There can be only one explanation for the patterns we have seen in the rocks and stones, peoples and cultures, plants and animals. One explanation that will allow us to make sense of the seams that run through the fabric of the world.
We, who are now One, were once Two
~Excerpt from “The WorldWarp” by Angelique Pyn.
“Some things end in fire, some things end in ice.
But some things start with fire, and all must pay a price.
~Children’s rhyme, author unknown
In the universe floated Mishway and Culthet. Where they had come from was unknown, but what they would become is our story.
~Culthet~
The mass hurtled through the sky, a tail of fire surrounding it as it streaked towards the stormy seas that made up most of the plane. Lightning bolts reached out from the pitch-black thunderheads as if to knock this offending source of light from the skies for its presumption.
But the mass continued unimpeded, striking the surface and releasing a huge plume of steam as it continued to descend. The water got blacker and blacker as what little light was present on the surface struggled to penetrate the waters. There was only a few seconds of warning as the water before the mass grew dark.
The mass slammed into the side of the seamount, punching through the inferior rock for nearly a hundred feet before coming to a halt. It was only then that it could be seen clearly, an egg-shaped thing of darkness, wreathed in bubbling Otherness that dissipated into the surrounding ocean, eventually revealing an old tomb from some forgotten empire from somewhere beyond imagining.
Within, the once-orderly passages that had been the last resting place of a nameless king were nothing but a memory, collapsed in the transit from beyond the reality of the universe. The king himself and all his treasure had been removed ages ago, stolen bit by bit by daring thieves.
Not that the clever creators had made the task of removing the gold and gems easy. Traps lined every wall, every door, every chest. Now-powdered skeletons had *also* lined the corridors, in some cases gumming up the works of the very traps that had taken their lives.
Only a single chamber, the one that had once held the King's body remained intact, and it had an occupant once more. A coherent shard of the Otherness, spun in the darkness, unable to escape. Upset, it let out a wail into the darkness.
And the darkness answered. Crawling from the walls, floating up from the pits and oozing from the nooks and crannies came souls, hundreds upon hundreds of souls from bodies stuck for centuries. The floor beneath the shard grew thick with slimy luminescence, the souls wrapping around and over one another before eventually turning their attention upwards. They wrapped around the Otherness, and then through it, absorbing small bits of the Otherness as they went. The shard grew smaller and smaller, yet the souls that had picked up part of its essence remained nearby. Finally, the last sliver vanished and the tainted souls coalesced into a vaguely humanoid form, souls coursing up and down, screaming silently as they traveled across its form. It spoke, and the remaining souls fled in terror.
“I am Itja-Rek”
~Mishway~
Grass whistled breathlessly, floating languidly against Mishway's warm air. The plane was silent and empty. Empty, and forgotten. For aside from the breeze and the sun, there was nothing. Oh sure, there were some grasses and trees, even the occasional shrub – but that was it. There were no insects in the air, small mammals among the plains, or fish within the lakes and ponds. Nothing ever happened, and it seemed nothing ever would. The very fiber of the world stank of a monotonous sameness. So when finally, after eons of sameness and lassitude, one small section of air began to twist and dilute weirdly, nothing was around to bear witness.
“Oho? What’s this now?”
The voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once. But again, Mishway did not seem to care. The wind continued to cruise along unperturbed, and the self-same sun continued its eternal radiation.
The tear began to deepen, and with a hissing pop a hole in reality was torn asunder, just long enough for something to fall through, landing softly on the grasses of Mishway. The form was female, and loosely garbed in a white dress. She clasped her arms around herself, shivering as if from cold.
“It’s so quiet. I wonder what happened here.”
The goddess (for that’s what she was) picked a direction and began to stroll. Everywhere was the same: balmy air, sparse patches of larger vegetation amidst fields of grass. She laughed.
“I dare say we’ve come upon something delightful” she said, to herself. She spun, laughing. “No, can't you feel it? Something happened here, long ago. This is all that’s left.”
The goddess smiled as she arrived at one of the strange, curled trunk trees. “No, this place is like an empty canvass. Whatever happened is long past. It is ripe for new inventions. Just think, dear Sonnet. We could be lords of creation!” The goddess leaned against the tree, still smiling to herself.
“Why? I can’t tell you why. This place has been cloistered, hidden from the likes of us. It was dumb luck that brought us here. But if we wandered into it, whatever has kept this place stagnant is failing.”
The goddess arced a graceful hand through the air. “I say let all which would be, be! Let all who would come, come! This place shall be cloistered no longer! I say, let them come!”
Almost in answer, a crack rang out through the intervening stillness. The source was a tree, perhaps a few feet away, perhaps miles, it was impossible to tell in this most austere of environs. The tall grass bowed to the sound as to a sovereign. And another crack. A great tree, perhaps tall, perhaps not, hung with great spheres of colour had delivered one such orb onto the breezy grass. Only it wasn't a sphere. A single fissure, a crack, was racing along the smooth surface of the sphere-that-wasn't-a-sphere, splitting and spider-webbing, dividing the bright orange shell. Then a piece came loose and a cry rang out, like the crack, but not. The shell fell apart and divulged its contents into the waiting world.
A twisted creature, still dewy from placental juices, came screaming into the silent world. A great curved beak stretched from the face of the creature, the tool to bring it to life. Its arms were spread with downy feathers and its hands and feet were gnarled, hooked appendages of cruelty. The thing flopped feebly onto the grass, writhing and screaming.
But almost the moment it fell, the thing began to change. The feathers were growing back into the arms, the scaly skin smoothing to smooth and supple flesh, and the beak shrunk to a nose. A woman was now lying amidst the evidence of her birth, blinking birthing juices from her eyes and staring at the world.
The woman stood. In a smooth movement, she wiped the fluid from her face. Then she proceeded to do the same to the rest of her body until a woman, perhaps plump, perhaps not perfectly shaped, but a woman, stood whole and clean in the grass. And she took a breath.
"Dearie me..."
She spoke slowly and clearly, and the now rushing winds carried her words to the distant figure of the woman.
"Is this life?"
She cast an appraising eye over her pale limbs.
"Rather dirty, isn't it?"
She cast her eye forward, to the woman, and stood there, appraising her slimmer, more supple form, and knew at once she was different, alien. When she next spoke, her tone was colder, and the wonder was gone.
"Who are you?"
Under a million tons of ink dark water, stone, the cold core of the world, lay. No fires seared the belly of the plane, all long since burned out, leeched away by the oppressive cold. Stillness did not reign, however, thousands upon thousands of white, threadlike worms slipped through the crevasses of rock, seeking only to cannibalize their own kind.
A century, by mortal ken, passed, and one worm grew larger, feeding upon the flesh of its brethren. Two, and the loathsome thing expanded from the length of a finger and the width of vein a monstrous creature two meters long and six inches thick. Had the other worms, growing scarcer now as it devoured them, possessed brains they would have called it God.
Five centuries now passed, half a thousand years, the thing, the great worm, had consumed the last of its kind, stretching twenty meters in length, cracking stone between its massive teeth. The old igneous rock of the core groaned beneath the prodigious weight of the beast's girth. It wandered a year, insensate to the passage of time though it was, seeking more food, finding none.
At the end of its year of wandering, the creature uttered a wail of agony, hunger pains writhing in its belly. The souls of a thousand thousand worms, insignificant as they were, cried out for life, wailing that primal demand. The universe heard.
For too long the waters of Culthet had rippled with echoes of past deeds, breezes carrying shouts and cries half remembered. The land, the very fabric of being called out for gods and mortals, deeds of glory and atrocity, new divinity to fuel the fires of existence.
The essence of the plane, forgotten wonders, vanished treasures and dissipated luxuries flowed into The Worm. A whispering legion of voices, all in a silent chorus of despair and lust for famous days, exploded into the mind of The Worm, blasting its crude brain into a new form. An instant passed, neurons fired and rewired, the voices howled their triumph, before, like ancient parchment, disintegrating.
Into the void of the remade brain, sentience awoke.
Davos. That is my name. The Worm.. The Aristocrat. My titles.
All along Davos's body, new protrusions emerged. Spindles of flesh and cartilaginous pseudopods, each tipped with a pore oozing clear, acidic fluid. With a burst of newfound power, Davos hurled himself through stone, carving vast tunnels that in centuries past would have consumed decades of his labor. The acid from his skin left weird patterns on the walls and floor, inscribing everything with a bizarre symbology of unconscious divinity.
After a time of this exertion, a new thought entered Davos's recently reformed mind.
Where am I from? Who am I? Where am I going?
Tentatively, Davos stretched his thoughts away from his corporeal form. At first, when ever he thought of something else, the worm began to dissolve, matter sloughing off. Horrified, Davos recalled his will and recovered for a time. The questions, however, continued to plague him. When he made a second attempt, he was far more successful. Leaving a fragment of his power to secure the material of his body, Davos expanded his consciousness out through the world, seeking some other source of power, some other divinity.
Syreene watched as once more the plane's cloister lapsed, and divinity was...messily... thrown forth.
She remained leaning against the tree, but called out in response:
"I am Syreene. I am the the spring growth that sustains the summer winds and gives birth to the Lord of Autumn. I am newly arrived here in this place. I would imagine that your... instantiation was unique. At least, that is not how I came to be here."
Despite the distance, her voice carried easily, amplified by the lack of, well, anything really, and her own divinity.
"I've given thy mine, now tell me thine -- with whom do I speak?"
And then like a physical blow, modesty hit her. She marshaled the winds to her aid, and they whipped and spun about her, sending leaves and the long grass dancing into the air. Like an expert tailor, the wind wove the foliage about her until she was wrapped in a garment of soft teal, impossibly intricate and endlessly enveloping.
And then the two women stood there, one at ease, one at attention; one in simple garb, one in extensive dress. And the woman spoke.
"Why, I appear to be patron of this place, keeper of this country, owner of this environs, after all, you are other," her gaze was soft and pleasant, but her tone had a deadly edge to it, "And I see no other takers."
She was ashamed, there was no other word for it. Almost as soon as she had seen this alien creature, she had detested it oddity, its strangeness. And for it to have seen her in this most compromising of positions? This most vulnerable of states? Well, it was unforgivable.
"You may refer to me as your highness, or your majesty," she said, finding the words fell nicely upon her lips, "Or perhaps, the Monarch."
"Ah, but Monarch, that's the beauty of it, isn't it? Your world here is empty -- I know not the why or the how, but it is. Speak unto my truthfully -- have you no wish to fill these vast expanses with creations of your own devising?"
The goddess patted the ground upon which she stood, the curlwood tree at her back.
"Can't you feel it? This land itself is lethargic. It has remained too long static and unchanging. It cries out for anything, for us, to set it free from its limitless tedium!" Syreene paused. "No, I don't think I'm getting worked up." Another pause. "Well, we'll just have to play that by ear then, won't we?" Syreene returned her gaze to the Monarch. "Where were we? Ah, yes. Life. Change. As it is, as you say, your demesne, I shall allow you first go at it!"
Within the tomb, the creature, Itja-Rek, was busy trying to figure out just what it had become. Part of it was the souls of all of these thieves, explorers and even a few servants killed and buried with their lord. The god idly wondered for a moment if the king's spirit was somewhere within his form as well. His souls were, as a rule, terrified. Most of them had settled into a long, deep slumber, bound to their mortal shells by magical tricks of the master trapmakers, and were unprepared for their sudden servitude. Those were a quiet wailing in the back of his mind. Always there, but... he could tune them out.
A few, the bravest of the souls, were less afraid. Some were curious, others wary, but Itja-Rek had a feeling that soon they would start to express themselves in some manner.
As for the other part of himself, the part that had allowed all this to happen, the Otherness... it was still there, dispersed among all of the souls, but he could feel it like a weight in each one, binding them to his consciousness and his form.
Itja-Rek turned to directly face one of the walls and stepped forward, form dissolving into a liquid-like state and sliding through the cracks and seams in the stones until he met the outside water, where he reformed. It was black, but a faint light glowed in the distance.
Itja-Rek floated towards the light, but stopped as a presence made itself known in his collective mind, tickling it with its attention.
"Who comes into my brain uninvited and unannounced? Show yourself, or state your intent."
A gate appeared made out of finest steel. The gate was closed and no life behind it was seen. Then the gate opened and a being most fair took his first trembling step out in this new world. His legs shook, sweat ran down his forehead and his hair, black as the night covered his pale face as if it had been a veil made out of finest silk. Black wings stuck out of the being's back, a sword shook in his hand and black robes stuck to his frail body.
He looked like an angel...
Djaf as his name was fell down on his knees, his sword fell from his hand and pierced the fair earth as he raised his hands against the blue sky and screamed. As he screamed his voice grew louder and louder, the earth he stood on began to crack as the terrefying noise of a lamenting God spread across the newborn world.
Minutes passed. The gate behind him was still there...but no one else came...he remained as he were. A lone being dressed in blackest robes surrounded by the clear and fair colours of a world filled with the possibility of life.
His mind was suddenly away by a subtle hand. Memories, emotions and dreams, everything taken away to make place for what was to come. A plan was placed in the future God´s head and a flame was lightend in his chest. A flame of pure divinity.
He stopped screaming. He arose and made a shovel out of thin air and began to dig.
Deep in the waters, something erupted. It was not a big eruption, or very powerful, or noticable. It wasn't even very diferent from the things that surrounded it. Still, it stood out, for whatever reason. It boiled, with more of the strangeness coming out. From where, it was not apparent. But more poured out, thickening the place with its strange energies. It didn't expand, so much as it condesnced, pouring into a shape, a figure.
Later, although how much was unknown, for time had seemed to bend and shift around the eruption, it suddenly stopped. For an even longer eterinty, nothing happened. Then a tentacle extended outward an probed the lanscape. As it passed through trees and rock and water, what it touched changed, sometimes dissolving, sometimes being warped. It quested for a while, learning about the world it was in.
It then burped, expending several bubbles of itself out into the world. These bubbles stablized, then floated off, slowing passing through the world, eating from the existence. They left behind a trail of the changed existence, and slowly grew bigger. But they were not too last, for they quickly fell apart, and dissolved inot nothingness.
Then, the sound of the burp came, it's timing and positioning mixed up by the essence of the being, harsh and abrupt, unlike the flowing form would make appropriate.
"Karak"
The sound pulsed outward, with varying speeds depending on the direction. It fell apart quickly, however, and the being began to look beyond where it had been born.
Soon a wide squared of bare earth was seen, grass, bushes, shrubs, everything that was alive had been taken away by the winged God. The pattern had to be put in place!
The dark God raised his hands and seeds rained down upon the bare earth. At the same moment the seeds touched the ground, grass began to grow, flowers fair and beautiful bloomed and trees popped out of the ground with loud popping noices. Trees that grew, trees that prospered, trees that flourished under the careful care of their winged Gardener.
In the middle of the garden Djaf made a small stone square. There he willed three gates with no doors in to existence. The first gate was made my finest gold. The second gate was made by rugged stone warm to the touch. The third gate took the form of a circle, it's sides covered with fine thorns.
A smile touched Djaf´s lips as he turned his back on the three gates. At the very end of the square the Dark God made a small dwelling for himself. A tiny house made out of stone, a well and a stone chair for sitting purposes.
Djaf summoned stones out of the nothingness and began to make a wall. Four feet tall and two feet broad. The wall soon encircled the whole garden. A Gate was put on place. A gate made out of finest bronze. A gate covered with pictures of things that would come. Living beings, dead beings, winged beings, beings that lurk in the deep seas...all of that which one day would pass through those gates. Enter the garden and leave this world for another.
So the Garden of final ends had been built. All souls of those departed knew where it was and furthermore they knew that they had to get there. That there was peace to find behind the golden gate.
A spell was placed on the garden, a spell that stopped the living from finding if they were not meant to do so.
Djaf smiled faintly and looked at his creation with those shining eyes with his. Those that shone as suns.
" This is...good..."
He muttered. His voice dark and loud. He nodded, spread his wings and flew against the skies to explore this new world.
Mold land 1 PP: The garden of final ends - A place where the dead rests. A pre-cursor to the true after-life.
Soon the winged God noticed something on the ground. Two beings...both with divine fire resting within them. Both Gods just as he.
God...that was an odd word. What did it mean? And yet as he pondered that question an answer appeared withinin him.
A god is one that prepares for the future. Prepares for those that the worlds truly belong to. Those favoured by your Father.
The winged God smiled at knowing this important truth. Not pondering where or why it had been spoken he rested his wings and flew down to the beings that looked so much alike him on the inside.
His voice was dark and loud as he spoke. His black robes hung delicately from his shoulders. His eyes shone...and he spoke.
" I bring you greetings, Siblings from a God of something that is yet to come to this fair world of our. My name is Djaf. Agent of the pattern, guarding of the gates and curious explorer! "
The winged God smiled, and stretched out his hands.
Syreene watched amiably as the newcomer arrived. She smiled, raising a hand in welcome. "See? I told you we were the start of something glorious!" The goddess paused, eyes momentarily focused on the bridge of her nose. "Why must you be so suspicious? Odd manners mean nothing!" Syreene cleared her voice and smiled.
"Greetings, Djaf. This is The Monarch. Why, I was just telling her that she should bring some life to this barren place. What about yourself though? Were you likewise spat forth from one of the trees of this place, or was that an aspect of birth peculiar to Her Majesty?"
A flickering image appeared before Itja-Rek. Apparently solid, for the water had rushed away from it when it manifested, the thing was a clot of blood vessels and flexing muscles. The contracting fibrous muscles strained against one another, as the whole thing seemed simply to be a sphere. A voice, low and heavy, emanated from it.
I am called Davos. The Worm. The Aristocrat. These names echo within the confines of my mind, strangely, so strangely. I seek... to be. To live the lust of life that all things do. To build high the pyre of my existence, to spread my seed across this old, tired world. Yet, I have no template, no cast to pore vital energy into. Do you know how to birth a moving thing?
In the core of the world, silent now, with Davos thinking other thoughts, communing with foreign gods, the rock turn asunder by his joy at ascension hardened. The acid leaked from his pores, at first scribing insane symbols on the stone, now dissipated. The volatile liquid, gaseous now, ate away at the bones of the earth, cutting at only dirt and rock, however, level metals and gems untouched. So it was that five caverns, and tunnels connecting them, came to be hollow. colossal, cyclopean things these vast caves. Rough stalactites of some mineral or metal dripped from the ceilings, while ridges of the metals sliced across the floors. Miles wide these places were, large enough to hold a mountain.
PP
2PP-Mold Land, Moderate: The Caverns of Davos
1PP-Nourish Land: metals, minerals and gems of all types are scattered, exposed, throughout the Caverns
The winged god said with something dreaming hidden within his voice.
" My purpose here is to build the Garden. Tend the garden. Guard the garden...."
He stood there for a couple of moments staring up against the blue sky. His mouth slightly open and his black hair flying in the wind.
" I came here to build my garden...but this world is most fair, oh, beautiful lady of the trees. I wish to assist you in your endavour and help you in bringing life to this world. So that one day all of Creation will be a living place..."
His gaze was unfocused, confused even as he looked around.
" So...where should we start? "
"We can start right...HERE!"
Exploding into a flash of motion, the goddess thrust her arm towards the sky. The ground around her boiled and erupted in response, breaking the monotonous expanse of grassland into rolling hills.
Eyes half-lidded in concentration, Syreene raised her other arm. Shrubs and trees began to spring forth, varied in form and diverse beyond anything Mishway had known for the longest of times. The forested hills peered far into the distance, presiding over everything, the highest elevation on the entire plane (which, given its relative flatness, was not saying much).
The curltrunk tree that Syreene had been leaning on seemed to shiver in the sudden rush of air and energy, as if it felt its solitary reign come to an abrupt end.
"Behold! Creation!"
PP Expenditure
-1 PP Mold Land -- Raises a portion of Mishway into a triskelion shaped hill.
-1 PP Nourish Land -- covers the newly-raised hills in all manner of trees and plant-life, mostly deciduous.
5/6
"Davos. I am Itja-Rek, new-born of the old-dead. I too feel this urge, my very body yearns to create life once more, after such a long time alone in the dark and the cold."
Itja-Rek paused, thinking about what he had just said. His souls, those that were not screaming, had slipped some of those words into his mind. One had even tried to take command of other souls in his conglomeration. Itja-Rek sent a stern shock to the offending soul, which writhed in place along the god's neck.
"It is dark and cold, is it not? I would certainly like to see more of what lies around us than what pitiful light we currently have."
Itja-Rek held out his hand and concentrated, willing what he had thought to come to life.
Above his hand a faint image appeared. A gelatinous cap, easily eight feet in diameter, trailing numerous tentacles. As he concentrated, the image grew more solid, the cap growing translucent, the tentacles starting to swell in number and size. Eventually, small lights appeared on the tips of the tentacles, providing a small amount of light to the cave. The god breathed on the jellyfish, and it floated away, dividing as it went.
"We have but to will it, and it is, Davos. What is it that you wish to will to be?"
1 PP: Spawn Beast (lesser): Light-lure jellyfish. Translucent jellyfish that lure in prey using lights on the tips of some of their tentacles. Stalks the deeps of Culthet. (probably a level 8 or so creature, I'll make a statblock shortly)
" Behold the beauty of life..."
He continued with a smile playing on his lips. Knowing fully well of what he doomed these small beings to.
1 PP Nourish Land: Creates an abundance of smaller animals including simple insects, small mammals and a flock of birds.
Joy seemed to be popping into being all throughout the Monarch's body, like some bright and cheery contagion. That one had seemed to accept her authority so easily, and now there were more subjects!
"As Queen of this land, I believe it is my duty to kick things o... oh..." she was interrupted by the sudden bringing-into-being of things, "Well, it's my duty to carry things along."
She clapped her hands together, and an jet of petals and bugs and all manner of bright and cheery things exploded from her hands to colour the sky with their gaudy, flittering shapes. Hundreds of these things settled upon the Monarch's form swelling her dress even further.
"I hereby decree the beginning of the Age of Gardens!"
And as she said this, she swept her arms outwards, and an explosion of colour seemed to ripple out about her. In actuality, the grass about her feet and for many metres beyond, bloomed suddenly into vibrantly hued blossoms.
1 PP Nourish Land - A garden of brightly coloured flowers surrounds the base of the egg tree.
Syreene nodded approval. "Ah, but what is a garden without tenders?" Before The Monarchs insects had the chance to properly disperse, Syreene extended a hand, deftly snaring one. She cupped the bug in her hands, and for a moment, golden light flared within it.
The goddess opened her hands again, tossing the results of her divine magic onto the ground. A cat-sized Mantid appeared to cough, perplexity evident on its mandibles. It's chitinous exoskeleton was a vibrant silver, the edges gilded. A beat passed, and suddenly there were twenty, then four hundred, and then they too scattered.
Syreene curtsied towards The Monarch, a half-smile on her face. "May I present to you, Queen, your garden's royal tenders."
-1 PP Spawn Beast (lesser) -- Mantid Tenders. Cat-sized mantids that pollinate, weed, and otherwise tend the various plantlife around the Triskelion.
Itja-Rek. A new name, a new thing. I wonder if there are others, other bits of fact and fiction, information, existing in this place. I wonder what hides from our sight in the dark.
Upon creation of the Light-Lure Jellyfish.
Ah, this will bring the bones of this world to mine eyes. The vast waters still too long. I once felt the pangs of hunger; the Jellyfish must eat.
Twisting, rippling in front the Worm, black dots of nothingness began to swim, like sunspots on a mortal eye. A moment more, or an hour in this timeless place, and the distortion exploded.
The inky blots vanished a foot from the origin, and a cloud of tiny organisms took their places. Three eyed, albino creatures with fan tails and soft, segmented bodies. Slim as thread, the creatures filled the water around the two gods for an instant, before darting off into the blackness. Some would fall prey to the Light-Lures, others would subsist and propagate off of the jets of mineral nutrients scattered across the ocean floor.
PP
1PP- Spawn Beast: Thrill Worms (It'll all make since in a couple of weeks.)
1PP- Nourish Land: Volcanic mineral and nutrient vents are scattered across the ocean floor.
"Yes, Eat. All things must eat eventually, be they new or old or big or small, large and bulbous or thinnest of all." Itja-Rek mused, watching the Worm as it created the tiny Thrill Worms.
Itja-Rek watched the last of the jellyfish go floating gently after the worms, and shrugged in annoyance. Now his tunnel was dark again. Raising his hands again, he gestured to the walls of the tunnel, and then, as if an afterthought, towards the exit, which he had never been beyond. Here and there the rocks began to glow with a faint, sickly luminescence, casting a pale, almost flickering light throughout the length of the tunnel.
Floating forwards, the soul-formed god looked out over the underwater landscape, dotted here and there with glowing rocks and Light-Lure jellyfish. Turning, he looked back towards the Worm.
"I gather you have seen more than what is in this cave. Do you know what else lies in these deeps?"
1 PP: Nourish Land: Luminescent stones appear in and around the Seamount where Itja-Rek crashed
5/6 PP remaining.
" There is so much to do in this world! So much space! So many possibilities! "
He said rather loudly and took a couple of steps away from the others. Surveying their creations.
" There are so many things that needs to be done. Oh...I...I´m sorry I don´t think I properly greeted you, Monarch. "
The God of Death kneeled in front of the fairy queen and proclaimed.
" Good tidings to ye, Your majesty. I am Djaf, God of what is to come and protecter of those that will one day need it. "
He arose once more and asked the two Godesses.
" I am new in to existence in both mind and flesh, May I ask you two a simple question? Why are you two here? Where is your part in the pattern? "
Mishway
Many leagues away from the foot of the now flourishing Triskelion, separated by time and space from the events unfolding there yet intimately related to what transgressed within that Garden, something stirred. When the twin deities of death and the mother of the seasons set about their task of creation so many miles away, the world of Mishway changed.
As the hills sprouted and flowers flourished, while the mantid’s set about their task of tending to their lord’s creation, the air of the plane, which had sat stagnant for millennia shifted. At first it was merely a small outrushing of air, not at all dissimilar to an escaped breath from the lungs. However, it travelled and shifted, flowing over the endless barren green fields, past the occasional lone stagnant tree, until a current had been formed.
This current travelled for leagues, along the way loosing much of its strength and versatility, fading slowly until it was just a simple breeze. But even this breeze was foreign to this place, to the stillness of Mishway, and amazingly as it died out and settled it rustled the branches of a single lone tree that stood sentinel over the green fields. The branches of the tree shifted and rustled in that wind and a score of green leaves were dislodged and began to spiral towards the ground below.
And spiral they did, those green leaves danced the most delicate and intricate of waltzes. They spiraled and curtseyed, orbited and intertwined, occasionally sneaking a kiss before two of the objects were separated again by this small quantum of choreographed chaos. As the final leaf touched down, settling into the grass in the shade below the lonesome tree, it seemed to dissolve into the open air.
The matter literally crumbled, but in its place some ethereal energy floated and expanded. That energy started out small, but quickly it doubled, then tripled, then quadrupled in size until a glowing cloud of the strange substance which was neither solid, gas, nor liquid had enveloped the tree. The cloud was luminescent, giving off a strange eerie glow as patterns and designs reminiscent of nothing that this world had ever beheld before swam within its substance. The air surrounding this apparition was suddenly filled with a subtle melody, akin to the whistling of the wind that spawned this entity, glorious and exhilarating in its simplicity.
Then, in the midst of light and melody, that cloud of energy became aware of itself as separate from the world around itself. It observed the tree shaking in its presence, dislodging hundreds of its leaves to repeat the dance that had taken place mere moments before, but this time with scores of partakers as compared to the handful before. Viewing this, the apparition had one thought “Beautiful”.
He reached out and touched them. As he did, the energies that made up his body suddenly enveloped the creature, and spat it out again. But it did not spit it out the same. This new creature radiated a unforgiving blackness that stiffled all light nearby. The creature, now hidden by a sphere of blackness moved onward.
As he did this, he became aware of the two others like him. He moved toward them, going toward the feelings. He plunged through a wall, leaving it warped, dissolved and twisted where he touched it. In a moment he plunged through into an opening, ruining a rather nice wall in the process.
And he was there with the two others.
-1 PP: Spawn Beast: Lesser: Shadow-Eater Jellies: Surrounded by eternal darkness, they stalk the depths to devour light, which they can feed on.
6/7 PP
"Be on your guard, Davos. Something approaches."
Moments later, the wall of his tunnel warped and spat out a... thing, which floated in the middle of the tunnel. Sparing a sad glance at his formerly unblemished wall, he addressed the floating mass.
"And what gives you the right to ruin my wall like that? Your name. Now."
The soul of Hulnajekthulazirettyulopjuwarsez stirred as this new being began to create. Once, he had been a mortal psion who had entered the king's tomb to find some secret to defeat an encroaching dark force. He found what he sought, but the traps in the tomb claimed his life and spirit. Now he was a part of this Itja-Rek. Hulnajekthulazirettyulopjuwarez (Hulna for short) fought the urge to sleep. He would siphon this being's power little by little, to avoid its notice, and become a god himself. But for the moment, he'd have to be content with altering the creations of his host. And so he manipulated the glowing stones and turned them into living, growing beings of stone that grew into strange shapes and began to fight each other for essential resources, like better living conditions, food (each other), and pockets of air. Hulna smiled at his new creation and returned to siphoning his hosts divine power.
PP
-1 PP Spawn Beast: rock things (about level 6 constructs)
6/6 PP
Syreene turned towards Djaf.
"Why, I exist simply as an agent of change. Time passes, things change, myself and the universe with them. I am the heartbeat of whatever lands I find, guiding the circadian rhythms of the world itself, waxing and waning as needed." She frowned.
"My counterpart thinks less of our purpose, but I can safely ignore him currently."
The entity spared a glance at the tunnel it had carved into the stone.
"Looks fine to me. Not bad at all. Not perfect by any means, but still nice. Better than it was before, anyway."
He moved toward the one who had addresed it.
"I don't know if I have a name. Or if I need one. But Karak will do. I was born into it, so it might as well be what I am called."
"But now there are two tunnels which somewhat diminishes the-"
Itja-Rek shook his head. Did it really matter?
"I guess it is of no real consequence. I am Itja-Rek, and that is Davos, who calls himself the Worm, although I do not see how that is an accurate title. I take it you come from Outside. What lies beyond this tunnel? I have yet to leave it."
As Itja-Rek spoke, he felt a strange itching coming from within himself. Moments later, several of the stones which had been glowing began to mutate in shape, turning into dull brutes made of stone that began smashing their stony fists into one another. Annoyed at yet another intruder in his cave, Itja-Rek picked each one up and threw them from the tunnel, knowing that the water would prevent them from coming to too much harm.
"Come out!" he cried to the walls of his tunnel. "I want to know who did this! Enough meddling with what is mine!"
But no one emerged. Itja-Rek returned to the other gods.
"Did either of you see who did that?"
The leaves had settled on the ground, resting ponderously between leaves of grass, no longer captivating the newborn God’s attention. The luminescent spectral cloud of a deity rose several dozen feet into the air and surveyed the land around itself. For miles in all direction stretched only tedious monotonous grassy plains and the occasional lone tree, standing in solitude. Once again a single word echoed within its thoughts Boring.
Reaching with divine power into the ground below, gripping the roots of the earth, and pulling up with all of its strength, it tore vast stretches of the land from the bosom of the plains and hefted them high into the air. Suspended in the open air, the deity invested a portion of its power into these mountains, setting them upon a spiraling, sweeping, orbiting course modeled on that of the leaves that had fallen from the lone tree. Unlike those leaves however, these floating mountains would never descend to the earth again.
Floating up to the heights at which it had hung the waltzing mountains, the apparition marveled at its work and took a moment to appreciate the beauty of their dance. From this vantage though, the deity noticed a shift in the topography and color of the endless plains far to the north east. It began to slowly drift towards this anomaly, this oasis of color in the desert of green, intent upon observing its beauty far closer.
2PP Mold Land Moderate: Absalom tears vast chuncks out of the earth and creates the Waltzing Mountains, a spiralling series of peaks in the sky that orbit around the crater created in their wake.
Syreene's gaze caught on the distant horizon. Huge earthmotes were being thrown from the ground with massive force, floating upwards in a strange spiral shape.
Some time later, she noticed an ephemeral tinge to the air coming from the same direction. "Look yonder" she finally spoke up. "Another of our kin stalks this realm."
She stood up, arms spread wide, palms up, enjoying the feeling of wind over her skin. "Greetings, wanderer. I am called Syreene. What brings you to this grove?"
He reached out, and carefully grabbed one of them, making sure to touch it as little as possible. He carefully hollowed out an area inside the stone with a tentacle, then deposited the creature there.
"For later, when we do that. And outside is ocean, dark and dank. I can't imagine anything else that could be so...nice. Needs some freshening up, of course, but still....Who knows?"
The ill-defined God drifted towards the strange anomaly it saw in the distance, closing the distance in not so great a time. As it drifted closer however, a strange tingle carried on the air, an unknown energy that reverberated through this stagnate plane that seemed to emanate not from the strange hills but instead from something in its vicinity.
Dropping down till it was at ground level again, the God drifted into the grove and began to examine the activity within. Flowers blooming in the sun, adorned with a kaleidoscope of vibrant colors, trees swaying in a barely perceptible breeze as strange six legged chittinous creatures and larger furry quadrapeds crawled along their length. The God was fascinated, and the colors within its form began to dance with ever more vibrancy whilst the melody that accompanied it became ever livelier.
Coming to a clearing within this beautiful place, the newborn Deity stumbled upon three peculiar figures. Two were tall and lithe, the third shorter and more plump, all had four limbs and one had two strange black wings sprouting from its back. Manes of strangely colored and textured matter flowed from the top of their heads, ranging in color from darkest obsidian black to golden strands to starkly white. The small plump one was adorned in some rather ostentatious teal fabrics of incredible complexity that caught the ethereal God's attention, though it seemed rather too loud, for the setting.
One of them motioned towards the being and noise began to pour from an opening located on the lower end of a sphere atop the rest of its form. Strangely, the newborn God discovered that it these sounds seemed to carry meaning, and that he could understand what this other was saying. However, the words seemed hollow and distant, almost bland in their character. The cloud could not shake the feeling that the words spoken were merely a poor imitation of a something more tangible, powerful, and more real. One word however, Syrene, seemed to carry more weight than the others.
This universe, this plane, had a pre-existing language that flowed in its bones. The God could not explain how it knew this, but it did, and as it came to the realization that it knew this fact it also became aware of the whole of that strange and ancient language. The language structured and molded the newborn God's malleable mind and imbued it with understanding and meaning. Simultaneously, the music that surrounded the God became heavier, bombastic, and layered, conveying deeper meaning whilst the patterns in the God’s form shifted into ever more complex sequences.
The ethereal God wished to respond to this Syrene, however it found that it could not form the words of power properly in its current state. So reaching deep into its form, seizing a portion of its divine power, the God bound some of its energy into a solid form shaped in crude imitation of these others faces. Round white alabaster, it was a crude imitation with only eyes and a mouth; however it would serve the intended purpose.
This mask floated from deep in the God’s form until it rested at the front of the mass or roiling energy, facing these other beings. A single word, laden with power and meaning like nothing spoken in the world for thousands of years, was then spoken from that crude mouth, “Beauty”.
4PP Create Greater Artifact- The Masquerade is an alabaster mask in the same vein of the masks of Comedy and Tragedy which provides 1pp to Creation Actions.
This one...was of this world in a way he wasn´t. He was yet a stranger to this world, the energies, the thoughts and actions he had and took was foreign and alien to the world he now was a part of. This one on the other hand...
An odd smille touched the winged god's lips as he looked upon his ill-defined "cousin". Raised his voiced and spoke to it.
" Beauty you say. You speak in a most interesting way, friend. "
He took a step forward and watched It with fascination in his eyes.
" Who are you, friend? You feel...different..."
Ha bent forth, looking closely at the being and smiling once more. A friendly smile it was, a curious one too.
As Itja-Rek has already informed you, I am called Davos. I think my true form lays deep in the world's core, amongst five immense caves. I call them the Caverns of Davos. The name lacks creative flair, but given the fantastical complexity of our creations so far, I believe soon I'll have something worthy of a grander name.
As a question, what if Itja-Rek, I, and you, Karak, combined our power and sought to create something more, something better than glowing jellyfish and Thrill Worms.
"An excellent idea to save it for later for more... detailed... examination." The god said, marking the exact place. One of his more coherent souls had been something of a master at vivisection before being drawn to the secrets of the Tomb and dying, like the novice thief he was, not ten steps from the entrance.
"Ocean and only ocean? How dull. Davos, I would certainly like to create something better to fill it. Do you have anything in particular in mind?"
The pulse shook the tree, and the orange sphere unspectacularly fell to the hard ground, and burst open. The brown nourishing liquid within splattered across the earth and stained the grass, while a single four-digit hand lay with its palm facing the sky.
Immediately the hand began to twitch, realizing it was not in its protective sphere. It began frantically moving, attempting to get itself off from its 'back.' When it realized it was safe from any immediate harm, it re-located itself to a cleaner area, and rolled across the ground happily, (at least the hand appeared happy; it is difficult to judge without a face) removing the solidifying dark liquid as it rubbed off on the earth.
With the cleaning out of the way, the hand excitedly ran about on its digits, and began trying to think of something to do. The hand then questioned if it could even think without a brain, or if it just thought it was thinking. After a few seconds of debating itself, it gave itself a name: Caltabactos.
Sadly, it lacked a mouth which could pronounce this new name.
"Oh dearie dearie dearie me!" cried the Monarch with a yelp of surprise, flopping down in a rather dramatic fashion beside the newly hatched god, "The tree must be broken! Look! It only made part of a person!"
She shot an angry glare up at the tree with now hung over them, branches swaying innocently.
"I'll deal with you later!" snapped the Monarch at the tree, "But for now the Queen has got to protect her subjects!"
She spared barely a glance for the other newcomers. There did seem to be a lot of them now. She barely had time to register that it must have been her outstanding brilliance and undeniable beauty that had drawn them to this particular place.
"Don't worry my child!" exclaimed the Monarch dramatically, raising her hand above her head, "I shall save you!"
She brought down her hand in a grand gesture and sparks exploded impressively outwards from the point of impact. Nothing else happened.
"Oh no! I must be too late!" despaired the Queen, "My dear, can you hear me?"
The Queen gave a little gasp.
"Everyone! Everyone please quiet down!" she said, quite unnecessarily for no one was speaking, "Dearie me, I think he's trying to tell us something."
She gazed intently at the hand and offered it a consoling smile.
"Please dear, don't be afraid, what's wrong?" she asked, "Are you in terrible terrible pain? I don't think I could imagine a worse fate, please dear, show us!"
The skin forming the wrist-stump started expanding, growing into a forearm that the hand was attached to. The sinew, bone, and flesh continued to grow outward, until a fleshy torso was formed. The torso grew new appendages, until it had a fully formed humanoid body, complete with a featureless face, two arms, legs, and four fingered hands.
The skin of the face began to ripple, as would the surface of a lake after a single drop falls on its calm surface. In the ripples' wake, a small nose was formed, smiling lips, two brilliant violet eyes, and a clump of messy, purple hair. He was completely naked, and his skin was smooth and pale.
Smiling mischieveously, he addressed the kind Monarch.
"Goodbye!"
He blinked twice, frowning as he realized he said the wrong thing.
"Ah, wait, let me try that again!"
A flash of light and a puff of smoke occured, and the body vanished, replaced once again by the hand. Flesh started forming from the wrist stump, and the whole proccess began anew. When the entire body had been formed, he looked at the Monarch again, beaming.
"Hello!"
"Ah! He's alive!" the Monarch turned to the others, "He's alive!"
Then she rounded on the god-who-was-a-hand-who-was-a-god-and-then-a-hand-again and gave him her most piercing glare.
"You! You scared me half to death!" the she fixed the egg tree with her death glare, "And you! Don't think I've forgotten about you mister!"
She raised her hands, and with a sudden rushing sound, fired something invisible at the tree, which seem unaffected. Her work apparently done, she turned back to the young god.
"You, my dear, should get some clothes on yourself, you'll catch your death in this cold!" she turned on a tiny Mantid who was pruning a nearby rose but now quailed beneath her gaze, "You! What do you think you're doing standing there? This boy is freezing! Get him some clothes now!"
And she turned back to smile at the god and smiled as the Mantid scurried off in abject terror.
"Shouldn't be long now, I think."
4 PP Create Artifact: The Egg-Tree provides PP for Divine actions.
Syreene shook her head slowly. Was The Monarch actually this daft?
She looked past the frumpy goddess to the new godspawn.
"Hello, little one. You may call me Syreene." She patted the ground next to the tree where she had once again taken to sitting. "Pay no heed to that one. Why don't you come over here and tell me more about yourself?"
Caltabactos, then noticed Syreene beckoning to him, and he laid on the ground, and pulled himself toward the location with his hands (he had not yet grasped the concept that feet and legs were more efficient for transportation).
"Hiya! My name is Caltabactos. You can call me Drax for short. Other than that I don't know too much about myself, except that I really will like music as soon as someone invents the concept. How 'bout you? What's your name... oh wait! Let me guess!"
The young god but his hand to his chin, and began thinking of a name that would be fitting of the goddess before him.
"Is it... Caltabactos?"
"Aww! He can talk!" exclaimed the Queen, "Look at that, did you see that? You talked! How adorable!"
She knelt down before the young god and spoke very slowly and very clearly,
"He-llo," she said in a manner befitting one who was talking to the daft or the hearing impaired, I am the Mo-nar-ch of this place."
She straightened up for a moment.
"Oh, do you think that's too hard of a word for him to pronounce?" she asked worriedly, "Ah well, just call me Mo, darling."
She smiled sweetly down at him, then turned to the others.
"So, how are you liking my humble kingdom?" she asked, placing her hands on her hips, or at least as close as she could get to her hips under all the dress.
Syreene laughed (pointedly ignoring The Monarch), the crystalline sound of her voice bounding out across the space, clear and pristine.
"No, little one. You may call me Syreene." She leaned a hand down, stroking the godling's face. "You're a funny little creature, you know that?"
Abruptly she broke the tender gesture, sitting bolt upright, color rising in her cheeks. "I was thinking no such things! The nerve of you to even--" Syreene closed her eyes, hands on her temples, breathing several times in quick succession. "Right. Ignore him." She returned her gaze to Caltabactox.
She gently pulled his head into her lap, and began stroking his messy hair into something less chaotic. "Tell me more of this 'music' ".
If we each force as much power as we can into a inanimate flesh, which I shall create, then perhaps we shall forge a being as powerful as we are, yet firmly under our control. We know little of this world, and great as our power is, if God can rise from worms, then other things could lurk under the stars, or beyond them.
"Well, music is liking the kindgom very much. Oh, who am I talking to? This is getting confusing."
The young god absentmindedly waved his hand, and a series of sharp spires pushed up from the ground. The spikes continued shooting up from the ground until a ring of these spires were formed. They reached up high, but had little width, appearing like rocky needles.
"This place was getting boring... do you mind? Each one looks like a tooth. I could call it Caltabactooth! Or Caltabacteeth!"
PP Spent:
2 PP - Mold Land - Formed a ring of sharp mountains. There are no spaces in between them, but the inside of the ring is just as flat as the outside. No vegetation is currently on them.
5/6
"By all means." Syreene continued to fiddle with Caltabactos' hair. "Though I can't help but question the logic of such a shape. There is no way to get to the hollow on the inside. What kind of place has no doors to get to it?"
Itja-Rek held out his hand, summoning the power to it, ready to put it into whatever the Worm had in mind.
1 PP towards the Superior Spawn.
4/7 remaining.
"I agree, soul-self. I shall do as you say."
The hide-less ball of pulsating flesh, the symbol of Davos, exploded into gory ruin. Before the scraps of flesh touched the floor of the tunnel, however, each seemed to waver, like pickled animals behind thick, warped, glass, and dissipate. A voice, chocolaty and rich with languid energy, boomed from beneath the feet of Karak and Itja-Rek.
Emerge from your warren, your lair, and see what I have wrought.
----------------
In the dark, still, waters beyond the entrance to the catacombs where Itja-Rek had come to rest, a shape began to take form. At first it was ghostly, insubstantial, merely a haze flickering in the dull luminescence of Light-Lure Jellyfish. An immense armor plate, harder than Adamite yet secreted as gray bone curled across this thing's back. A crease, a crevasse, ran across the length of this natural protection, dividing it in two. Vast it was, rivaling the hundred meter length of Davos himself. Four legs, or arms, or tentacles, depending on the observer's mood, protruded from the body within the armor. A massive body it was too, the flesh a steel blue, warmed with a boiling copper blood.
Smaller, more flexible plates of organic bone bulged from the skin of the beast, protecting its sides and allowing the limbs free movement until the two colossal interlocking under-plates of armor began. The flesh within the exoskeleton, however, lived utterly without bones. This allowed the creature to fold into itself. The crease along the top of the shell bent, curling the plates towards the bottom plate. So elongated and streamlined, the creature's four pseudopods would trail behind while the titanic muscles of its interior sucked in and blew out hundreds of tons of water in jet propulsion.
Movement and defense accounted for, Davos moved on to weaponry. A mental flick and the jagged peak of Itja-Rek's mountain erupted upwards, then fell back through the water. Slow though it fell, in his exhaustion The Worm almost missed the two serrated halves of the peak. Seizing them, he slammed the small mountains into the two forward pseudopods of his creation. Copper blood bubbled in the water for a few moments, before a spark of divinity from the God of Tombs pulled the flesh over the cyclopean chunks of stone, incorporating them into the beast.
Finally, with the last of his strength, Davos pulled a crude head from the creature's muscle bound torso, making it craggy with the same Adamite-hard bone and placing to malevolent bio-luminescent eyes deep into the skull. A beak of softer white bone with tiny, relatively that is, serrations along it.
From head to tail the creature reached over a mile in length. Plates of bony armor hundreds of feet thick shielded it from harm, while the crest of a mountain, split in twain, bulged out of its arms. Muscle, barely contained by the leathery hide, rippled all over the creature, allowing it to move its massive bulk with ease.
It lacked something still, it lacked the spark of life.
PP
2PP- Spawn, Superior That makes a total of three. We can carry this over the reset right?
Mishway
The ethereal cloud of energy had plumbed the depths of its being and its newfound understanding in an attempt to answer the question posed by the winged one, seeking not to create a response but instead to discover one. For as surely as the deity existed, it possessed a purpose and name, an identity all its own that could be surmised in a single utterance that bore within the many shades of meaning and nuances of understanding that reflected the divine beings own existence. The expression on the alabaster mask changed to one crudely imitating a pensive mood for the moments that the deity was lost in self-examination.
Suddenly the face lit up and shifted into an over expressive almost comical semblance of excitement, signifying that an answer had been found. However, before the God could explain its discovery a louc crack from nearby startled it. The face immediately transformed into an overly zealous interpretation of fear and the cloud of energy bolted behind a nearby tree faster than lightning could strike. The cloud coalesced then and shrunk to a far smaller size, smaller even then the form of the plump little women, though the Masquerade remained the same size affixed to its front.
After a moment of quivering behind the tree, the God peaked out a corner of its mask, with a curious yet frightened visage, only to quickly withdraw it back behind the safety of the tree. For what it had seen was a peculiar sight, a single hand scrambling along the ground lacking any other semblance of a body as the plump one knelt over it. A moment later the God summoned up the courage to peek out again, only this time to see a fully formed naked body with a mess of purple hair lying on its belly, pulling itself with its hands toward the thinner women.
Perplexed, the Deity peaked out a little bit farther from behind the tree and watched. As it did so, the earth not 20 meters from where the masked God floated suddenly violently shot into the air. The God literally jumped from behind the tree and darted across the small clearing that its cousins occupied, only to find another jagged spike of earth rising opposite it. Darting back and forth between the rising walls of the prison, the masked Deity was momentarily terrified and quickly sought escape. The melody that accompanied it, which had remained almost imperceptibly silent in the moments following that startling snap, now rose in volume and turned into a rapid sequence of notes that conveyed the God's sense of fear and flight.
Finally as the rising cliffs reached their apex, the deity rose above them and quickly bolted back towards its Waltzing Mountains, momentarily terrified by all the activity that took place in this strange place.
A ant was crushed under his foot as he walked away. It's insides broke out from it´s body, it's legs bended and broke. The Ant writhed in a moment of pain and...then it died. A small, black carcass lying in the green, green grass of Mishway. As it died a part of it...left and flew away on invisible wings. A tiny, tiny being white as snow carrying a tiny spark of life within it.
That tiny soul, that tiny fragment of memories, pain and the simple joys of life only an Ant can feel and enjoy. Such as the joy in obeying, the joy in dark tunnels hidden underground, the joy of working for something more, something so much bigger that you barely can understand it at all. Memories of a dark queen, memories of a mother that never gave you as much as a gaze...memories so small and unnecessar but yet they were there.
That tiny soul drifted away in the wind...just to be catched by an outstretched hand.
Glowing eyes looked on the tiny, nearly not-existent spiritual remains of the insect. A smile touched a pair of lips and a dark voice whispered.
" Well...hello there, little one...."
Dark hands were cupped around the soul and a whisper was heard in the darkness that followed.
" Don't worry little one. Your life in this world is far from over... "
The winged God arose to the sound of his wings whipping up air and dust. He arose against the skies and travelled across the " Green Lands " to his garden. There he entered his house, sat down at his chair and began to work. He placed the soul in a bottle he summoned forth from by heating up some sand and sculpting it in his mind.
His eyes shone with a nearly childish excitement as he bent and twisted the very rules of existence to make something. To make a creature of his own, one that looked like him...but had those lovely traits that had made him quite fond of that little ant. There were many adimrable traits in that little being. Traits that he had not given it, traits that stem from something more then celestial fire and divine creativity. Something that stemmed...from the pattern. The plan. The idead this very world was based around!
But it wasn´t that the lone God tried to find. He accepted the way things were...but the ant and the promise of it´s tiny mind intrigued him to no end. Such posibilites...
There was much to do though. Hours of work if not days...
The God of Death smiled...there was joy in this and maybe something most fortunate would come out of this. Yet another part of the plan. Yet another being he was MEANT to create. A being that would be known as the Myrmadon.
A skeleton sat on the table in front of him. A skeleton much like his own but that lacked wings, was shorter, stouter and had powerful jaw made to crunch and rip.
He smiled once more, as something new had began to burn within those eyes of his.
Pride.
The creature shifted. It groaned, and shook, shaking the ground and causing shockwaves across the ocean. As it went through it's birthing pains, it caused immense tremors, shaking the ocean floor. faults tremored and shook up the mountains. As it did so, acidic misty tendrils extended from it's body, poisoning the water near it.
After an eternity, it settled down. It layed still-ish, with only a few minor shiftings in the tips of it's tentacles, which while minor in comparison to the size of the creature, were still very huge. It slumbered for the moment, waiting for a time when it would awaken, awaken and destroy many things.
-1 PP: Spawn Monster(Superior)(Final PP): The Leviathan. A huge creature, it normally sleeps deep in the ocean, as a large underwater moutain range. When it wakes, it causes untold destruction until it is put too sleep again, a very hard task. It exudes acid from it's skin for a couple hundred feet, making approaching it deadly. Living beings learn to avoid this area. ((Hope that fluff is ok with both of you))
-2 PP: Mold Land(Moderate): Underwater mountains created by The Leviathan's birthing pains.
3/7 PP
Syreene sighed contentedly, pushing Caltabactos off of her lap. She stood up, breathing deeply of the air. Strangely, her features seemed altered -- her face was less round than it had been, breasts were smaller, and her long hair seemed to be receding back into her scalp. She seemed to be physically larger and taller too.
She left the small gathering of gods to wander the foothills of the Triskelion. The vibrancy of the new leaves and buds were quickly fading. Spring, or that which passed for spring in this surreal world, and herself with it.
"I will not be gone forever" confided Syreene amicably, patting the trees along the path she walked. "In time, I shall return, in the meantime I will leave you with something to remember me."
Syreene approached one of the largest trees, tracing the outline of a humanoid figure upon its bark. The goddess patted the tree once, and three wooden silhouettes appeared on the ground. They wiggled for a moment before popping into three-dimensional existence.
They were fiendishly handsome Eladrin, a set of triplets, really, each standing just over 2 meters tall. Upon noticing Syreene, they fell to their knees.
"You three shall be my Lords of Spring. You shall act in my name while I am gone. Enjoy yourselves, I shall call if I need your power."
The three nodded in near unison, whispers of "Yes, milady" and "at once, my liege" echoing back to the goddess. Syreene nodded in satisfaction, stepping deeper into the woods as Summer more fully took her away from her body.
~Elsewhere in Mishway~
A single Mantid delicately approached the place where The Monarch and Caltabactos still presided. In its arms were hundreds of petals. It stealthily approached Caltabactos, never taking its compound eyes off of The Monarch. It dropped the petals in a clump, next to the nascent god, and then fled, skittering back into the forest for more. After all, it would take many such trips back and forth from the Garden before it could gather enough petals to robe a god.
-4 PP Ascend Exarch, The Lords of Spring. A set of powerful Archfey Triplets, the Lords of Spring (known individually as the Lord of Spring Thorns, the Lord of Spring Rains, and the Lord of Spring Stars) only have the power to function as an exarch when all three are within close proximity to one another. Genesis Exarch.
"We... made that?" Itja-Rek managed to get out, looking over at Karak. It looked far too large to contain, much less control. "What is the point of something that large if we can't control it?"
OOC:
So, this is our first 'reset', although with all gods less than a week in age, nobody gets more PP. Regardless, this officially begins Turn 1.
Djaf worked in solitude as untold years passed by. With silvery tools and divine fire he began to create himself a servant. One that contrary to the other Gods would be his and his alone. At times though Djaf left his garden to travel the land, often in the shape of a bird as he truth to be told had no desire to converse with the others.
A little now and then a thought appeared in his mind. A thought that was not his own. A thought that was more like an order when that happend Djaf quickly did as he was told.
One day that meant to do something quite...drastic truth to be told. One day the whole planet shook as earth crumbled and ripped under the will of Djaf. Water poured out from ground as the ground at the same time lowered itself. More and more water appeared, endless cascades of shimmering water fell down from the skies in the form of rain. Geyser's discharged an abundance of steaming water. For days it rained and in the end an ocean covered vast swathes of the world.
Djaf stood still at the gates of his garden and looked out at the world. With a wide grin on his lips and a feeling of acomplishment in his heart.
The ocean was blue...blue..blue...glittering beautifully in the light of the sun. Under it layed untold numbers of trees, straws of grass and bushes all drowned by the uncaring god of Death.
A smile touched his lips as he turned his back upon the world and returned to his sanctuary. Not caring the slightest of the consequences of his deed.
Mold Land ( Greater ) 4PP: Creates a vast, unnamed ocean that covers about fifty percent of the world. Landmasses yet exist as Djaf forced the ground where the ocean is to sink.
1/6
Culthet
The ocean was not the only place things were happening on the world of Cuthlet... things were occurring above the waves as well. Or, more accurate, on top of them. Idly floating among the relatively stagnant waters of the murky ocean, a single egg traversed the ocean slowly and surely... but not some chicken egg. A pulsing orb, writhing with veins that beated with each beat of it's inhabitants heart.
Eventually, the beating grew louder, and quicker. And quicker. And quicker. Finally, a long insectoid leg tore open the sack of flesh, before a monstrosity widened the hole and simply erupted out of the incubator and into the salty water. The insect from hell, the thing was titan sized, nearly all of which was taken up with it's bloated belly that seemed to want to errupt from it's sickly green carapace. The rest was taken up with spindly legs, and a head that seemed more mouth than anything else.
Naturally, the goddess' first course of action was to devour what remained of the sack of flesh it came from as it bobbed in the rippling waters.
But after the brief meal, the goddess shuddered with chill. This water was not for it... the coolness of it did not agree with the bile that flooded through it's veins, and the salt stung it. What an inhospitable world, hardly fit for a Mother to birth Her brood... She couldn't in good conscience bring life into a world so harsh! At least, not without a few modifications to make it more habitable...
Rearing as high as it could in the water, it's bloated belly acting as a raft to lift Her head high, the Mother let out a... er... well, vomit of earth. Heaving it's sides as it puked out dirt and rock into the ocean, the stuff congealing until a large island had formed in the midst of the cruel, cruel sea.
Shuddering again with the cold, the Mother heaved Her sides onto the land mass, curling up to rest and dry Herself before She would do more... a Mother needed a nest for Her young. And She couldn't make a good nest while wet!
2PP - Mold Land - The Mother makes a large island to rest on, and to provide a stepping point to birth her young.
5/6
"Pray that we never have to find out. Ideally, we just forget about this and never have to awaken it. On the occasion of it's awakening, we would probably just point it at the least damaging path, and hope for the best."
"I want to see what lies up there, Karak. Come and join me if you wish."
With that, the God of Tombs willed himself to rise up through the ever lightening waters until his head broke the surface. All around him, the constant storms that raged across Culthet unleashed lightning bolt after lightning bolt, the only real source of illumination on the planet. In and amongst the flashes of light, Itja-Rek saw a large island, and began moving towards it.
"What a gloomy place. Needs something to cheer it up."
He followed the god to toward the land, slipping through the water with glee, as he played in and amoung the waves.
The Mother attempted to doze, but it was hard... the soft, gentle beating of Her egg had long since ceased with Her hatching, and the storm of this plane was not gentle on Her ears. Perhaps it was for the best that She not sleep... She had no real need to do so after all. She was as constant as the earth She stood upon whether She ate or slept or not. Though She was not quite ready to give up eating! It was an enjoyable process, even if She didn't technically need to do it. Besides, best to lead by example, and She was sure her children wouldn't be as luck as She Herself.
Huh, was that something in the water coming towards Her? How strange that such salty and inhospitable stuff should hold anything living!
"Who is there?" the Mother called out to the waves through the storm, getting to Her feet and scuttling to the waters edge. Her voice was, despite Her visage, actually quite feminine and pretty. Which perhaps made Her physical appearance all the more jarring.
After all the flowers had been infused with the golden energy, the hand turned back into the young Caltabactos, and he gathered them up in his arms. He laughed and threw them high in the air, making them spread all across Mishway in their descent.
"See you later, guys," he said to the flowers as they fell.
When the flowers touched the ground, there was a brief flash of golden light. When the light subsided, the flower was gone, and a golden rabbit-like creature replaced it. The rabbit (called a dobbit), ran along happily, as others began to form.
The flowers that touched the water, however, formed a different creature. It had a shell, with six flippers and a head popping outside which resembled a turtle. Its shell was a golden color with the shell segments forming the image of a flower. It lazily swam across the vast ocean, finding a place in the new waters.
Nourish Land x2 - 2PP - Created dobbits, rabbit like creatures with flower-like tails, on land, and sichons, golden turtle-like creatures, in the waters of Mishway
3/6
I am Davos. The Worm. The Aristocrat. I am the last of this worlds creators, risen from their creations to divinity. Who are you, insect?
Moments after the Worm made its appearance, Itja-Rek and Karak reached the shoreline.
"Davos, you appear to always be a step ahead of me", the God of Tombs said, smiling at the worm while keeping his eyes fixed on the new creature before him.
"I am Itja-Rek, and that thing coming out of the water behind me is known as Karak. What is your name?"
The winged God returned to his job as the wound in his hand healed. Turtles...
He shook his head and smiled. Interesting animals..
Nourish land 1PP - Creates an abundance of fish along the shores where the Sichons live.
0/6
Cuthlet
The wave the worm brought forth from its rising was enough to wash over the Mother... much to Her displeasure. The water was cold, and the salt stung Her sensitive carapace! But this new development was interesting enough that She merely shook off the water before looking over these new... things. Hm, perhaps they were like Her? Except of a different Hive... Mothers to their children. She hoped that their hives could do without war... She hadn't even given birth to Her children yet, let alone established a true Hive for them.
"Name?" the Mother asked, confused by the concept. What was a name? Were not Mothers Mothers, and their children children? All a part of the Hive, working together as cogs in a machine... what use were names in such a wondrous arrangement? Perhaps Her title would be enough to sate these odd Hive Masters?
"I am The Mother. It is a pleasure to meet you, The Davos and The Itja-Rek," She replied, reclining Her head in respect. If they were Mothers, they deserved the respect given to those that give life into this harsh world. "And it is amazing to think that this water could give rise to givers of life when it seems to be nothing but fury and pain. I hope you are not offended by my altering of your Hive," She went on, looking down at the island beneath them. "But I did not think my Children could live in such a liquid."
Pause.
"Oh, don't look at me like that, you know you love me."
Pause again.
"You're so sweet."
Pause.
"Yes, I like them too. And so loyal."
Pause, longer this time.
"Well, I don't know what I'm going to do now. It isn't as though I can just stand still and sway in the breeze all day."
Pause once more.
"Yes, I'm sorry, that was mean. I take it back."
Pause.
"I love you too tree."
Itja-Rek tilted his head to the side and looked at the insectoid-thing before him. Was its name "The Mother" or "Mother" or... was that just a title? He was certaintly 'The' Itja-Rek, but to call himself such seemed pointless at best.
"The ocean is fury and pain at the surface, but the storm does not reach deep below. There it is still and calm and dark."
And Unnatural. One of his braver souls whispered in his head. Itja-Rek ignored it as best he could and soon it went back to its incoherent babblings.
"But I understand that that place may not be ideal for everyone. Tell me, will your Children be able to survive in this storm?"
Cuthlet
Calm, and dark... that sounded rather nice to Her actually. But Her children require air, not this salty water... perhaps She should reconsider this liquid as the harsh place she had first thought however. Maybe Her next brood could be of its depths?
The Mother twitched her antenna, sensing the air and the fury of the storm about them. "No," The Mother replied simply. "But in the same way I made this small island in your... ocean, did you call it? So I can find some way to shelter my Children from this storm, and give them the food and air and water they need to live. Your Children no doubt need the same thing... though the dears probably don't need any water if they live under ocean."
"No, they need no water. There are some down below that require air, however. If you are willing, perhaps we could work together to shelter both your children and these creations."
And furthermore, the god thought to himself, diversifying both above and below the waters would likely be an intelligent move... for various reasons, he didn't trust Davos and Karak.
And it means more treasures, a voice, which he ignored, said.
Cuthlet
The Mother preened Her antenna with one of Her monstrous legs in thought. Hm, could She trust the Mother of another Hive to have a solution that benefited Her own Children? The Itja-Rek may have a different idea of how things should work than She Herself did...
But what was the harm? She could make another island for Her Children to call their Hive if the Itja-Rek modified this one to make it inhabitable... and besides, they were all Mothers. They should trust each other, and try to work together to make the world a better place for all their Children.
"I accept, the Itka-Rek," the Mother replied. "Our Children deserve a world above and a world beneath to grow and play in. Have you an idea on how to protect our Children from this storm then?"
A voice echoed in The Mother's mind, tentative and fading at first, but growing stronger by the moment. Before the voice, however, came two images. Davos himself and a roiling knot of worms.
Deep beneath the cruel oceans of this world, there is a core of stone. Through magic, I ripped into this core and created five caves, the Caverns of Davos. If you will allow me to share in the creation of your children, your brood, these caverns, massive, warm, dry, full of air and dripping with the mineral wealth of the earth shall be your childrens'.
Cuthlet
My, the Davos' children looked somewhat unsightly didn't they? With no legs, or eyes, or anything else for that matter... though perhaps they were her larvae and not her fully grown children?
The Mother was confused at why the Davos saw fit to speak to Her in Her mind rather than simply speak the words, but decided that perhaps it was a quirk amongst the Davos' Hive. Culture was important, after all, so She decided to 'speak' back in kind.
That does indeed sound like a fitting place for my Children that do not require the caress of the sun or the feel of the wind, though a hell for those that do. But not all Children can live in the same place after all... I know not what this 'wealth' you speak of means, does it mean food? But if you were to offer this place for my Children, I would not oppose you laying your eggs in this place as well. Not that I could persuade you otherwise even if I did, it is your Hive, laying your eggs in that place is your right as a Mother.
The Masked deity fled from the gathering of these other beings, traversing the breath of the sky faster than a clap of thunder. It had been startled, taken by surprise and frightened. Coming upon the strangely shaped beings, it's curiosity had been piqued and it had taken to examining their forms and features, admiring their symmetry and eccentricities. But then there was the lone hand that was soon replaced by another of the strange creatures. Was this where they came from, did they sprout from those strange sacks as disembodied digits, rapidly growing to reach the mature state?
The ethereal cloud had no idea and did not think long on such things, for a more ominous thought soon broached its mind. Not long after the young purple haired one had appeared, the ground around the gathering of creatures had shot up like jagged interlocking spears, thrusting violently into the sky. This is what had sent the newborn deity fleeing, for in the violence of the act it saw a reflection of what it had done in tearing the earth from its bosom to hang the Waltzing Mountains in the sky. This disturbed the deity, for it suggested that something, perhaps even those anthropoid beings, had power that rivaled and mirrored its own.
When it had come upon the group, the masked one had merely assumed they were natural residents and caretakers of that garden, left to tend to the place after its original creator had passed. But could it be that they had created those hills covered with the spring blossoms, and that they had torn the earth skyward? Could they be more than just tenants of this place, but its creators? Could they predate even the masked one's existence? And one had been birthed from that tree as he had been present, could more yet be coming?
These thoughts greatly disturbed the newborn deity as it streamed through the air back to the Waltzing Mountains, who prior to this had assumed it was the only such being in this world. Suddenly though its thoughts were cut short, as suddenly a massive rumbling simultaneously split both the sky and the earth below. Before the God's eyes the grounds of mishway began to sink below it, and a blue liquid violently burst forth from the sinking land. A mere moment later, the skies through which the masked God travelled filled with dark grey clouds that seemed to have spontaneously sprouted into existence. Flying through one such cloud, the God found that it exited the other side moist, and realized that these clouds were laden with the same liquid. Slowly at first, but rapidly increasing in rate, droplets of the liquid, which the deity then knew was called water, began to fall from the clouds towards the earth below.
A frightening loud *CRACK* shot through the skies and before the eyes of the God a white hot discharge of pure energy shot through the clouds, arcing towards the earth below. Lightning, realized the Deity, but before the full implications of that thought could be inferred another similar burst arced through the air not 10 feet from the ethereal deity. A wave of heat and electricity flowed over and through the God's form, and it felt pain. It did not like pain.
The bolts of energy started to come more and more rapidly, until the darkness within and below the clouds was constantly lit by their discharge. The God darted between the strikes, attempting to avoid being struck directly or approaching to closely as it was drenched in the torrential downpour that had obscured even the earth below. Several close calls left a singed, burned feeling in the depths of the newborn Deities being, and as it approached the outmost sentinel of the mountains, still divinely carrying through the steps of its dance as the world around it raged in fury, a shot of lightning finally struck the God directly.
Pain, unlike any felt before. A mix of both heat and energy forcing itself through its form, the words searing, scorching, burning, and excruciating flashing through the ethereal cloud’s mind to describe the sensations that coursed through its body. The God's mind literally went blank for a moment and its form began to fall to the earth below. However, its momentum carried it forward and it by some stroke of divine luck the Masked God crashed into the dry embrace and safety of a shallow cave near the floating crags bottom. Sitting there, as the lightning's light illuminated the cave in brief flashes, the God thought one word Storm and then darkness enveloped its consciousness.
Black robes covered frail limbs. A cowl hid shining eyes. Cloth protected against rain.
Djaf was wandering his realm as his rain continued to hammer down upon the earth. His eyes shone like two suns and a faint smile rested upon his lips. He streched out his arms and stood there, enjoying the feeling of water against his hands.
In the distance thunder was heard. A storm was coming...and something with it. Divine eyes saw how something flew in distance trying to avoid vicious thunderbolts his storm spew out. Time after time the being was hit...and as a falling star the distant God fell.
The smile vanished on Djaf's lips and with worry in his heart he began to fly. Fly faster then ever before to the place where the divine creature had fallen. When he arrived he kneeled and placed his hands on the oddly shaped cloud of energy and shook it carefully.
His hair was a mess, his cowly had flown off and his eyes' light was dim and weak.
Mishway
In the dimness of the cave, where the winged Djaf stood over his unconscious kin, the soft glow of the ethereal masked God was contrasted sharply with the brief but violently bright flashes of illumination that came from the lightning just beyond the threshold. The avian lord of death, kneeling down upon his knees, appearance disheveled, reached forward in an attempt to awaken the catatonic deity.
However, as his hands came to edge of the ethereal God's form, something strange happened. Without any visibly discernable difference in the two locations upon which his hands came to rest, two vastly different results occurred. His right hand seemed to find solid purchase, and rested against what felt like cold marble, though the spot appeared to have no substance to the God's eye. The other seemed to pass into the form of the God as if nothing was there, in the same manner one might wave the smoke of a fire away from their face, though his hand felt substance flowing around it, akin to submerging it in a flowing river.
The action appeared to have no effect though, the Masquerade upon the God's face remained blank and expressionless, and Djaf could not sense the return of divine consciousness to this form. The ethereal God remained unconscious.
Yet in its unconscious state, its mind subsumed in darkness, it dreamed, and a pale reflection of those dreams could be seen flowing deep within the form of the God. Strange shapes swam inside the creature, and while Djaf found that if he could not focus or stare at the forms directly, by allowing his eyes to slide out of focus he could comprehend what he saw.
And what he saw was truly strange and otherworldly. Cosmos birthed in an ecstatic second, as energy danced and swayed and crashed in utter emptiness. The formation of galaxies and stars, whose beauty could move even the most stoic to tears, only for the suns to grow cold and the light of the universe dim as worlds and solar systems rotted and decayed into stagnant nothingness. Others seemed to burst into flame, and in stark contrast to the slow withering of their brethren these worlds burned in an eerie apocalypse of cosmic bloodletting that left the strangest notion of the sacred within Djaf's mind. Accompanying these visions of entire universes birthing and dying, strange eldritch notes and music both alluring yet hauntingly repulsive and otherworldly danced through the air of the cave.
But this was not all that Djaf saw, for within the roiling ill defined form of this other God he witnessed wonders of other ages. Shadowy forms, some bearing a resemblance to his own whilst others were completely alien marched within that ethereal cloud. They lived, struggled, and died in such brief instants, but conveyed in those flickering reflections of life was found such meaning, both terrible and beautiful.
And rivers flowed within the God, mountains rose only to be dissolve over time. Beautiful cities of alabaster with spiraling minarets adorning golden domes sprawled beside oceans that shown like a jewel. Fortresses of somber granite rose upon snowy peaks. Vast temples to unknown beings sprang from the shifting sands of a desert. All of these were consumed by flame, and in their immolation Djaf saw a hint of absolution.
These visions and more passed before the Winged Lord of Death's eyes, and they were beautiful. But still, the Masked God lay unconscious.
The Dobbit raised its head. It sensed... something.
The piercing cry of a hunting horn flooded the foothills of the Triskelion. The dobbit panicked, darting off through the brush. Over some roots, past the stream, skirt the edge of the lake, over the naked godling, HIDE!
The Lord of Spring Rains erupted into the clearing, seeing no dobbits, only Caltabactos. He bowed in greeting. "Good Summer's day to you, milord. Did you happen perchance to see a dobbit pass through here? Me and mine brothers are out a-hunting."
As if his words had been summons, Lord Thorn and Lord Star erupted into the clearing as well. Like Lord Rain, they bowed to the nude deity.
The Lord of Spring Stars brought one long, elegant finger to his lips. He looked contemplatively at Caltabactos. "Be vewy, vewy quiet. We're hunting dobbits."
Then everything changed. The visions blurred out...and something else appeared.
A white city. Wide streets filled with people. Men, women and children dressed in all of the colurs of the rainbow. Banners flew in the wind and voices were heard. White towers arose against the sky and winged beings flew high above. There was joy in the air and a man, a woman and a child passed Djaf by.
The man had black hair and blue, joyful eyes. The woman lacked a face. Golden har flew in the wind and the child laughed. In front of the crowd soldiers marched and alabaster towers shone on the sun.
Soon the scene changed as dark beings towere in the skies. Beings with burning eyes and burning souls that made stone come alive and swallow people whole. He saw a man fly to the skies with a sword made out of purest steel. He saw how a people, how a world..burnt and died in front of his very eyes. He saw how the man with those joyful eyes of his..vanished and was taken away.
Djaf stood still. The visions passed. For a moment he stared down at the shimmering being. He shook his head. Shook the visions away. It was the now that was important. Nothing else, with divine fire he grabbed the divinity and took him to his home. It was warm behind his walls. A fire burnt in the fireplace and countless experiments covered it´s walls. Bones, muscles and souls placed in containers.
Outside shimmering rows of those deseased wandered his garded, all heading for the three gates and the final rest they brought.
A cup of wine appeared in the God's hand. He sipped from it and looked down at the God of Beauty.
What...was he supposed to do now?
Quite, I do intend to seed the Caverns with my own children too. A faded echo of this world, old beyond measure, formed my mind. It imparted a series of images. In this images, frames of Hives, as you call them, long dead, the Children loved sparkling things of the earth, and hard materials buried deep within it. When I built the Caverns, I scattered these liberally, toys, tools perhaps, for the use of my and our creations.
"Hard things? Toys? For who? Or what? I can help with those sorts of things!"
Cuthlet
((Krika, Davos and the Mother are communicating mentally, you probably can't hear them))
Children loving simply glimmering rocks? How strange... then again, maybe their Hive also had strange customs as the Davos' seemed to?
I don't know about these... toys you speak of, but if you wish to share your Hive, then I am honored. *sigh* It is a shame that these Hives and all their Children you claim to have seen have passed on however... but it is the natural course of things that new Hives be made from the remains of the old.
As Caltabactos said this, he picked up the dobbit he had just killed, and began skinning it with a purple knife he procured from nowhere. He snapped his fingers, and a flame appeared on the ground. The skinned dobbit floated over the flame, and Caltabactos turned to the new arrivals.
"So who are you guys? Professional dobbit hunters? Because I didn't know there were any yet... Oh! What's your biggest catch so far?"
Lord Thorn looked about the clearing. "There's nothing here, brother. It must have gone somewhere else." He eyed the skinned dobbit roasting on Catalbactos' flame. "Unless this one just killed our quarry."
Lord Rain ignored him. "Milord, we are the Lords of Spring, appointed by our lady Syreene to enforce her will among the waning months. Pleased to make your acquaintance."
Lord Star had already lost interest, and was staring at the morning sky. "It smells like rain." He looked at Lord Rain. "You smell like weather, brother" he amended.
Caltabactos seemed to consider something as he put his hand to his chin and stroked it.
"Actually, I believe I just made all of that up. I don't think there are any giant dobbits. That would be completely ridiculous, they're herbivores! ...Hmm, wait a second."
The young god darted into the bushes nearby, and pulled out a squirming dobbit, trying in vain to escape the grasp of the capricious young god. Caltabactos laughed at its antics, and touched its head with his free hand. A golden light emitted from the small creature, and it started to spasm in pain. After about 20 seconds of this, the creature started to grow at an alarming rate, until it was about 8 feet tall and 13ft long. A sharp brown horn grew from its forehead, and when the creature squealed again, the sound was much deeper and intimidating.
The giant dobbit looked at the Lords of Spring with a somewhat annoyed look.
"Now we have giant dobbits! Wonderful! Just try not to get stabbed."
2 PP - Spawn Creature - Gigadobbit. While technically a type of dobbit, only a few can now become gigadobbits, which are far more powerful and agressive than their innocuous relatives. Only a few male dobbits will ever grow to this size, and there are very few transition stages.
The Gigadobbit charged, its horn neatly impaling Lord Rain. Though he screamed, it was more in surprise than pain as the creature hurtled elsewhere through the woods, dragging the screaming Lord of Spring along as it continued it's rampage.
Lord Thorn let out a great laugh at this. "Ah, at last! Something worthy to hunt!" And then he darted off, chasing his brother, intent on bringing the gigadobbit down.
Lord Star looked around the now vacant clearing, and then sat in front of Caltabactos. "I saw that comming, I did. Dobbits do as a dobbit does." Lord Rain thought about that for a moment. Coming to no further profundities, he smiled, looking back at the godling. "I'm Lord Star. I would say pleased to meet you, but I haven't yet. Met you, that is."
"My name's Caltabactos, but you can call me Caltabactos for short. I met that Lady Syreene lady a while ago. Not very talkative but a lot less rude than that Monarch lady. But now I'm meeting you, so I hope she doesn't get jealous..."
Mishway
The God of Beauty rested for some time, traversing the dreams of and memories of worlds now long gone and those yet to come, dreams of which the visions Djaf became so enamored in were the merest reflection. However, like all sojourns into the grand collective unconsciousness of all that ever was, ever had been, and ever would be, his dreams had to come to an end.
So it was, after a not too great deal of time since the storm had passed and the oceans had been filled to the brim in Mishway. For several moments the visions within the incorporeal form blurred and faded until forms of indecipherable symmetries took their place, and the edges of the Masquerades eyes began to twitch as life seemed to seep back into its alabaster frame.
When the God came to full consciousness though, it found itself in peculiar surroundings and thought for a moment that it yet still dreamed. For neither the calming blue of the open sky nor the resolve of earth and bolder rested above. Instead, the God seemed to find itself in some artificial construct, some abode of both wood and stone. A fire leaped not far from where the God rested, and the flickering light it gave off illuminated the stripped and bleached bones of what seemed like all possible variations, glass containers held within still beating hearts, livers, kidneys, lungs that still drew breath, and in one appeared to be a small creature the likes of which the Deity had yet to see that had been stripped of its flesh while it yet lived, so that one could dissect every bone, muscle, and sinew in motion as it shivered.
A fearful frown appeared on the God's face then, and the billowing cloud of energy contracted to a smaller size. In the corner of the room the God could just make out a shadowed figure, and it feared this figure. For where was this place, and why had it been brought here?
Something was going on between the Worm and the Mother, but Itja-Rek could not quite tell. They were reacting back and forth with subtle body motions as if conversing, but no sounds were made. Growing tired of waiting, Itja-Rek interjected himself back into the conversation
"Mother, what I propose is a structure, reaching up into the heavens that will house your children as well as other children who also need shelter from this storm. It will be your own Hive, and with it, your children will thrive and flourish. As you have already given your agreement to work together, I will begin."
Itja-Rek knelt down and placed his hand in the ocean, reaching with his mind down towards the crust of the planet far below. From there he drew up vast quantities of iron, holding it just below the surface as he placed his other hand on the island, creating more land that also waited just beneath the surface. He then pulled both substances upwards.
The rocks and earth moved upwards, forming into an angular structure that reached up into the heavens, over a hundred feet in height. Along the major joints of the Hive ran iron conduits which collected the dangerous lightning and discharged it into the ocean, where it dissipated harmlessly. Here and there the iron penetrated into the center of the structure, providing locations for future experimentation with the powerful force. stone balconies collected the rain as it washed over the surfaces of the stone and collected it in massive pools within the Hive.
However, the structure seemed highly unstable, wobbling back and forth in the strong winds.
"Mother, I am holding this thing up by sheer will alone! I will need your help to secure the structure. Please, hurry." Itja-Rek said, eyes fixed on the structure as he tried to maintain its form.
1 PP (of an eventual 2): Mold Land: The Hive. A huge structure that protects those within from storms and the weather while providing ample room for growth and experimentation. I will let Anubis describe the interior and anything else he can come up with.
3/6 PP
Indeed, I sorrowed when the remnants of these lost ages vanished, yet the destruction of their lore, their writing, their magic, distresses me more. If only we could find some way to bring it back. Still, it seems Itja-Rek has given you a lavish gift, perhaps you should view both it and the Caverns that bear my name, then decide which gains your pleasure? This ugly iron fortress looks rather unstable; I'd not want another Hive to join the thousands upon thousands drowned in these seas.
" No...don´t worry, Friend. "
A friendly voice said. A man dressed in black robes sat at a table and appeared to work with something. Silvery tools rested in his hands as a little man-thing missing both skin and arms wandered around on the table.
" Hmm...physically this one is more then fit for survival...but yet something is amiss..."
Djaf mumbled, sighed and turned around to face his visitor. He got up from the chair and summoned forth a goblet of wine out of thin air and offered it to his guest as he spoke. In his other hand one of those tools of his rested. A long object covered with blue fire.
" This is my home and my workshop. The things you see here on the walls are projects of mine, nothing to worry about, I promise. "
The winged god chuckled and continued.
" I found you after you had gotten roughed up by my storm. It isn´t very advisable to fly through a lightning storm, not even for a God. "
The Davos was making Her have to choose whether to use this Hive or the one he promised? This made the Mother a little.. irritated.
The Davos, I appreciate your offer, but what is lost cannot be recovered. To do so is to go against the flow of nature... all things must be born, live, and die, then provide food and materials for those that are still alive. Your dead Hives are useful to the living, but so are new things that are birthed, living or of 'ugly iron'. I will accept your offer... one day. But for now, I will help the Itja-Rek make a home on the island I birthed forth from my own two feelers. This whole world is a Hive that ALL of us can share, together as Mothers, but that will only be true if we all help each other birth the new, as well as make use of the old.
Turning back to the less larvae like of the Mothers, the Mother nodded Her head in agreement. "Right you are the Itka-Rek!" She concurred, before puking out more earth out of Her mouth. But this time, it clung to the iron structure, using what was made there to create a mighty mountain of a hive. Iron at it's core, but earthen on the outside... except for some protruding spikes on the outside that caught the lightening. And doubled to make the whole thing look rather intimidating.
Hm, but this wouldn't do, the earth was being worn away by the wind! If this kept up, the whole Hive would end up being nothing but iron again, and then collapse! Crawling into the hive, the Mother pushed the tunnels within it, molding them until the wind was drawn through the hives design to filter through several tunnels at a maelstroms speed, but to leave the others and the larger opening alone and untouched. So this meant that the Hive now consisted of water tunnels, where water went down to the pools that would sate the thirst of whatever lived there, wind tunnels where the wind blew, regular tunnels that traversed the entire structure, and many large spaces that could serve many a purpose... some as small as a room, others as large as a mighty cavern.
"This is glorious!" the Mother proclaimed happily, crawling out of one of the exit tunnels. "I must thank you the Itja-Rek! My Children can thrive in this place, and I am sure you must be happy to lay your eggs here too!"
1PP Mold (On top of Toph's) - The Hive ceases to be a simple iron fortress, but rather uses the iron as a skeleton (and as a grounding system) for a series of earthen tunnels not unlike an ant hive. The Mother also adds wind tunnels to prevent the earth from eroding, though these tunnels provide a hazard if stumbled upon unaware.
Lord Star nodded back contentedly. "I'm glad that I decided to meet you. I feel glad that we have met. But I don't think you have met Lady Syreene. Not many people have. Its hard to fully meet her, you see, because she is not fully there whenever you meet her, you see?
Lord Star stroked his chin. "I wonder though -- if one can never fully meet someone else, does that mean that the most-met part of that person is the one that is met? Who have you met if you have not yet met a full person? A partial person?"
The ArchFey blinked then turned towards Caltabactos. "I'm sorry, where were we talking about?" In the distance, another hunting horn blared out, quickly followed by the far-off scream of Lord Rain.
With that, The Worm sank slowly down beneath the waves, descended deeper and deeper, until the cool silence of the depths wrapped around him. A wriggle of his mighty body, and a hundred meters of sinuous, mucus wrapped flesh shot down a trench, towards the very center of the plane. There, faced with a wall of rock, Davos thought for a moment, then phased through, bringing his massive body to rest once again in the tunnels of the Caverns.
Outside the immense hive that now rose from the foaming waters, a ball of dimly twisting muscle, skinless, and dripping an dark, acidic slime, twenty feet across, broke the surface. A sickly popping noise, like a deer's leg ripped out of its socket, and the ball began to stretch itself into a more sluglike shape. It quickly pushed its bulk into one of the earthen tunnels, sliding into the structure.
"Tunnels? Fun times!"
He reached out and touched the network of tunnels, and through his will, began to extend them downwards. He pushed them down, creating tunnels deep under the original hive. However, instead of iron, these were made of a strange iron-like substance, organic in nature, hard and tough, but able to grow and change. They would continue to grow, but not in size. Instead, they began to slowly change their pattern, on a slow, relentless, and continual changing of their layout.
"Now isn't that nice?"
-2 PP: Mold Land(Moderate): The Twisted Hive. A dark(er) mirror of the Hive, it lies in the ground directly beneath the Hive. It's layout changes with varying speeds, so you can never be sure of the correct route. Almost impossible not too get lost in.
1/6 PP
"This place is pretty boring! I mean, it's okay talking to the dobbits every now and then, but they're tastier than they are talkative. Maybe we should make something smarter, something that can react to us besides running away and having a heart attack leaving the rest of the dobbit family without a dad making them slowly starve to death." The young god forgot what he was talking about again, "You'd think they wouldn't starve with so much vegetation around them..."
"We could use some servants!" Lord Thorn's rough voice bellowed through the forest as he strode into clearing, carrying a slain Gigadobbit, Lord Rain still impaled upon its horn. "Little feyfolk to tend to our biding and service our needs." He wiped his brow. "Like carting this thing back up into the Triskelion." Thorn paused to consider the gigadobbit. "Or getting my foolish brother unstuck from this dratted beast."
Lord Star had already stood up and begun uprooting saplings. The Arch Fey's methods kept the trees perfectly alive, though their roots surely looked odd all exposed and swaying in the breeze.
Lord Rain grimaced as he finally managed to push himself off the beast. "Oh, that's going to hurt next season for sure!' Lord Thorn clapped his brother forcefully on the back. "Walk it off, brother."
Lord Star was beaming at the two of them, standing in front of a small forest of uprooted saplings. Lord Rain gingerly poked the gaping hole in his torso, watching it slowly knit shut. He sighed. "Very well. We'll make some servants for Thorn and... he trailed off."
"Caltabactos, or Caltabactos for short" offered Lord Star.
"Right. Together, brothers!"
The three turned towards the pile of tinders. linking hands. They began chanting together, and slowly an emerald haze grew bright around them.
"Chantus, chantus, unsensical, rubbusha!"
1 PP to Veok for the ritual
0/6
The Pink energy flowed from The Lords of Spring into the saplings. At first, the pile just glowed. But then, slowly, the topmost sapling began to levitate into the air. The roots twirled together into a long single strand, then folded back inwards, pointing towards the trunk. The branches simply disappeared. From the trunk itself two nobby arms grew, and a facsimile of a face emerged from the wood above the arms.
WIthout warning, Chains of metal erupted forth from the earth, binding the trees roots and limbs into place. There was a poof of pink smoke, and a small female adolescent stood before the three exarchs. She wore only a long, sleeveless dress, and her exposed flesh had the color and consistency of wood.
Lord Star nodded approvingly. "Wood Waifs" he said, approvingly. The exarchs focused their energies towards the next tree in the pile...
Before long, some twoscore or so of the creatures stood in the clearing with Caltabactos. They stared at him with little wooden eyes.
-1 PP (from Caltabactos) Spawn Lesser -- Create Wood Waifs, small fey servants made from trees. They are indentured servants -- the chains on their dresses bind them to their physical form. By removing the chains and "freeing" the waif, they are able to transform back into trees and plant themselves, no worse for the wear.
The masked deity had drawn far into itself, assuming an instinctually cowering position in the corner of the building as the stranger spoke. Darkly cowed, with a form which the Deity was rapidly realizing to be the archetypical one for this world, the being did not give off an air of malevolence. But still, this place was strange both in its temporal reality and its metaphysical implications.
"Workshop...." mumbled the God in the true language of power, the language that carried power and the intrinsic meaning that all other speech sought to emulate. Ignoring the proffered cup, for the God would know not what to do with the drink, the Masquerade shifted to look around the room with a more measured gaze. Perhaps this stranger possessed no ill inclination, but to shape and mold and torment life in such a way..... To prod it, catalogue it, twist it, imprison and dissect.... it all suggested a cold detachment; an aloof air that viewed cordoned itself off from what was being studied.
These notions were all new to the God of course, for it realized them in the same way it realized all other things, with the language of truth guiding its understanding. But still, it felt that life, for that is what the Masked Deity saw about itself, the vestiges of life catalogued and dissected, should not be isolated, examined, and probed but should be experienced. This way just.... lacked beauty.
However, there was yet more that the contents of this place suggested. This being before it likely possessed powers akin to the Masked God's own. It was of the divine, and thus the God of beauty felt it should tread carefully.
"Projects," asked the God in words laden with meaning, "or experiments?"
He said once more. and pointed to the skinless human on the table.
" What I try to do here...is to create something...that is more then yet has to be created. Something that is alike us. The Gods. "
He raised the burning stick in his hand and pointed it against the wandering figure on his desk. Suddenly white skin appeared upon it´s meaty exterior. Blue eyes, long golden hair and a white dress that flew in a wind that shouldn´t be there. It was a woman. Wings stuck out of her back. Wide, strong wings that stretched many feet in both direction. The winged woman smiled and soon she flew in the air of the workshop on winds that shouldn´t be there.
Djaf frowned slightly and continued.
" A sentient being. One that can choose. One that can create. One that has the same gifts as us and the same potential. The problem with this is...that this world is not capable of sustaining sentient life. There...is something with it´s very aura that makes it hard for creatures that lacks a divine aura to think. "
He pointed to a jar. In it a minature man sat. Screaming, his eyes wide-open and his hands banging against the glass walls. Though he screamed no sound came out of his mouth.
" That has been the results of my work so far. Madness. "
The God of death shook his head in sorrow. Not for the screaming man, no, for his failed work.
Itja-Rek moved into the dark tunnels of the Hive and smiled, seeing how the three gods' work had created such a monumental structure, reaching both above and below ground. Distantly he could hear the sounds of the wind rushing through the carefully constructed tunnels, the hum of electricity flowing harmlessly into the oceans and the constant sound of water dripping slowly into the great pools.
Coming to the edge of one of the pools of water, Itja-Rek looked down and caught sight of his own reflection in the pure water. His face, an amalgam of slipperly, white screaming souls unnerved him still. He was sure he would eventually get used to the sight of his own face, but until that point...
Itja-Rek reached down and touched the water, and immediately lichens and algae bloomed in the water, spreading quickly to the nearby walls and climbing up through the drainage tunnels to the other pools, turning the formerly pure water into a slimy, yet drinkable concoction.
Then, Itja-Rek walked down to the surface level, to where the Hive and Under-Hive met in a seam of rock. He placed one hand on each side of the wall and felt his power flow through him into the pair of walls.
A few moments of silence passed as the god pulled his hands back and waited, watching the wall intently. Soon, a faint sound, like thousands of scurrying legs could be heard coming from the Under-Hive side of the wall, and a faint rumbling could be heard from the Hive side. Suddenly, both walls crumbled at the same moment, and out poured hundreds upon hundreds of creatures. On the Hive side came new forms of the fungi that he had created earlier, now mobile and hungry. On the Under-Hive side came things dredged up from one of his soul's memories: Tomb Spiders, each the size of a man's hand, came out from the wall, equally hungry. Within moments, the two groups set into one another while some members of each species departed under the god's watchful eye to set up colonies.
1 PP: Nourish Land: The Hive, especially around and in the pools of water, is filled with lichens and algae.
1 PP: Spawn Beast (lesser): Myconoid Colony Swarms begin moving throughout the Hive.
1 PP: Spawn Beast (lesser): Tomb Spider BroodSwarms begin colonizing the Under-Hive, coming into conflict with the Myconoid Colonies.
0/6 PP.
The Masked God of Beauty sat in silence as it listened as this other spoke. His words confirmed that he possessed a similar divine spark to the ethereal cloud's own; however it was obviously different in nature. It had insisted that these were projects, and perhaps in truth they were, but it had missed the inflection and intent of the God's statement.
The idea though, of creating life akin to them was something of interest. Even if the God of Beauty did not approve of this other beings methodology, its intention bore much beauty. However, the God of Beauty did not immediately grasp the problem of the situation.
"We exist.... We are... Sentient.... So you wish to create.... more of..... us? But this place..... will not allow it?"
Looking to the jar within which sat the tiny anthropoid, observing its... madness... the God of Beauty asked "Perhaps.... we.... are mad?"
" We? Mad? "
The winged God chuckled and sat down on the floor.
" I wish to create more of us. Yes. More thinkers. More doers. More creators. "
Smiling as always he continued.
" There...is simply more then it should be in this world. More....of the divine spark perhaps. It confuses weak minds...turns them in to things that merely live for the moment. They can´t think, they can't plan. All that they can do is feeling. Madness...all is madness. "
A deep sigh made it's way out of his throat. He closed his eyes and asked quietly.
" How are you feeling, friend? "
He raised the cup of wine to his lips and drank.
As Caltabactos said this, a few of the Wood Waifs looked at eachother nervously. One was even frightened enough to start backing up.
"Your first assingment is to... um..." Caltabactos stared upwards wondering what to do with the little creatures. He suddenly snapped his four-fingered hand and pointed excitededly at the little Wood Waifs. "Make a gift that I can give to Lady Syreene!"
The Lords of Spring nodded encouragingly at Caltabactos.
"Oh, good idea, sirrah!" said Lord Rain.
"Lady Syreene will soon see she was right to meet us to meet you!" ambled Lord Star.
"You're not going to finish in time." grumbled the pessimistic Lord Thorn.
For their part, the Wood Waifs looked at one another, at the exarchs, and then back at Caltabactos.
"Please, sir" uttered one Wood Waif that bravely tottered closer to the godling. "You're going to have to be more specific than that. What would kind of being is Lady Syreene? What sort of gift would be considered acceptable?" Her voice was rustly, but well articulated.
Cuthlet
More tunnels? A second Hive beneath this first? Hm, this Karak was also worthy of thanks! She did not think Her Children could survive in those forever shifting tunnels unless She gave them special powers to let them do so... and Her current brood that even now begged to be birthed had no such gifts. She would have to warn them not to play in the dark Hive below.
"I thank you, for also helping us, the... I am sorry, I do not think we have been formerly introduced, I am the Mother."
The Mother nearly squealed with glee when the Itja-Rek made the Hive fill with insects and algae... it was becoming a real home, and not just an empty shell waiting for some Children to inhabit it! But it needed something... more. Her Children would not be able to live off of algae and those off insects of the Itla-Rek alone. They needed something... more.
"One moment please, whatever Hive you are from," the Mother apologized, before scuttling back into the Hive. Hm, there were all these wide, open rooms with nothing in them... surely Her Children wouldn't need them ALL for nurseries and Mother chambers. No, She was sure they would love it if some of these rooms would be filled with food for them.
Grunting a little, the Mother spat up great deal of liquid, that flowed into the cavern before Her. Soon, from out of the liquid sprouted odd looking trees, that soaked it all up to grow large and tall. These trees would not require light to grow, merely the water they could tap into through their roots, and the odd amount of fertilizer given to them through flesh and leavings. But to help them get all the flesh they could get, the trees gave off a small, fine mist that would cause the flesh from dead things to rot and become nutrients far faster than they would naturally... and cause the livings wounds to be that much more grevious. But best of all was the beating... the trees needed help getting water up to their main bodies, and so they best to circulate the water and nutrients as well as they could. The beating of a heart, that would beat fast and loud if there was the promise of nutrients in the area (ie. a wounded or dead creature). It reminded the Mother of Her egg... She found it soothing.
But that wasn't all... She needed to do more for Her poor Children to survive. And the best way to do that, was with other Children. Settling onto Her haunches, the Mother squeezed out three large eggs, not unlike the ones She Herself had come from. From out of one, hatched thousands of flying insects, flies and locusts and damselflies and every other insect imaginable that swarmed about the Hive before coming to rest in the forests that could sustain them. From out of another, hatched burrowing insects, the centipedes and millipedes and slaters and every other creepy crawly you could imagine. These insects spread out, some burrowing in the forest, others the tunnels, but most in the Dark Hive below, for the darkness and dankness of it was ever so inviting to them. Finally, the last egg hatched, giving rise to spiders, ants, crickets, cicadas, beetles, and all the other insects of the land. These spread out equally around the Hive, taking root wherever they could go. But they avoided the Dark Hive, for it smelt of death and confusion. Barring the spiders, who loved the Dark Hive and all the prey it promised.
Sighing in contentment, the Mother decided to rest in the new forest for a time... the beating of the trees and the buzzing and scurrying of Her Children making her content for, just a time, to enjoy what She had made.
1PP - Nourish Land - The Mother makes Hear Tree forests in some of the larger chambers of the Hive.
1PP - Nourish Land - The Mother floods the Hive with small insects of every type imaginable, and some that aren't.
"Oh dear, look at that, I nearly put the soup spoons on the outside, rather than on the inside," tittered the Queen, "Oh, silly me."
She rushed to correct her mistake and ensure that no other arrangements had been compromised. She cast a furtive glance at her guests. None seemed to have noticed her mistake. Sighing, she returned to her task. She adjusted one of the little bright blue cups on its saucer and checked to see it the mushroom upon which it was all laid out was coping. she whispered a few words of encouragement to the oversized fungus and straightened up. She lifted a large, round tea pot from the surface of the mushroom and poured a stream of steaming water into each of the little blue cups. The water she had gotten from what she liked to call the crying sky, or rain as all the kids were saying, and she had heated it up using an old housewife trick.
"Now just leave the grass in you cups for a few moments, and then it should have steeped enough for you to drink," she announced happily to her assembled guests, "It's my own mixture of teal grass and egg tree leaves."
She stopped to ponder that for a moment. For a world covered in vegetation, it seemed to have very few varieties of plant species. She checked the rather large egg perched precariously atop her head as a headdress of sorts. It seemed secure enough for now. Besides, it matched so nicely with the dress she had constructed from shattered egg shells from the egg tree. It didn't occur to her at the moment that it might be odd that not one egg yet produced since that poor crippled hand seemed to have birthed an actual god. Instead, it occured to her that Ms. Dobbit was not drinking her tea.
"Well drink up dear, it should be fine by now," she said, somewhat disconcerted as Ms. Dobbit was staring up at her dolefully, "Why don't you go chat with Mr. Dobbit over there, he seems to share your distaste for my tea."
Somewhat huffily, she looked aorund and noticed that none of her guests had touched their cups. One of them, Ms. Wood Waif, a fragile little thing, was staring at her cup in aprehension, as if afraid it might burst out into a dance number.
"Oh, go on dear, drink it, it won't bite or attack you... I think..." said the Queen somewhat uncertainly.
Ms. Wood Waif flinched as if the Queen had shouted at her, and with shaking hands, reluctantly took the tea. The Queen stared at her menacingly for a few moments before giving the party up as a bad job and storming off. She plopped herself down in front of the egg tree and began to plan her next party, determined that it would be better next time.
1 PP Nourish Land - Numerous varieties of giant mushrooms can be found in a variety of locales in the lovely, scenic Mishway.
Turning back to the other Deity then, "Who?"
"Slaves! I mean friends! I have a command for you to please the Lady Syreene," he started, as if that hadn't been established yet, "her forests have become dangerously messy since she made them, and I cannot let her be adversely affected by it. So it is your duty, to clean all of her trees, removing any moss, droppings, or anysuch nonsense, and trim each of the trees so that they contain a prime number of leaves. Also, no dobbit may be facing the East at any given time. Understood?"
Silence filled the clearing. Caltabactos stared at the Wood Waifs. The Wood Waifs stared back. Lord Thorn looked at Lord Rain. Lord Rain stared back at Lord Thorn, turned to gaze at Catlabactos, and then turned back to his brother, a mix of surprise and unease apparent in his expression.
Lord Star was nodding enthusastically. "Well, what are you waiting on? Get! Scoot! Skedaddle!" he snapped. The Wood Waifs slowly began to disperse, only hastened in their activities when Lord Star dived into the largest bunch of them, driving them away from the clearing with his ill-wrought hunting horn.
Lord Thorn and Lord Rain simply continued to stare at each other. "Ready to leave?" "Quite." They heaved the gigadobbit's carcass onto their shoulders, and started the long trek back to the Triskelion when...
"STOPPPPP!" Cried Lord Star. "You have to carry it the other way!" The Lords of Spring exchanged another set of knowing glances. "Tell them, Lord Caltabactos! They're carrying the head east! Surely, they should be carrying it upside or backwards! Otherwise, the dobbit faces east!"
"I am not turning this thing around to assuage your addled whims, brother." Grumbled Lord Thorn.
An exasperated Lord Rain turned to Caltabactos and raised an eyebrow. "Is he right?"
Caltabactos frantically ran past the Lords of Spring, and chased after the Wood Waifs that he had given his orders to. He had completely forgot how dangerous the gigadobbits could be to them. If he were responsible for their poor little lives when they tried to turn a gigadobbit, he wouldn't be able to bear it!
When he finally reached the Wood Waifs, they had yet to get to work. Relieved, Caltabactos addressed them all... again.
"Wood Waif friend-slaves! I seem to have lacked a cruicial piece of information. I realized that it may not be fair to force you to make the gigadobbits not face East. Therefore, I am no longer forcing you to do that, as it could be very dangerous!"
A large number of the wood waifs gave out sighs of relief, one even uttered a small thank you.
"Instead... they must not face West!"
The wood waifs looked at the Lord of Change with incredulous faces, and then looked at eachother to make sure they heard that right. Pleased that he had done such a magnanimous deed, Caltabactos beemed at the dumbfounded little wood servants, and merrily skipped back to the Lords of Springs.
"Gigadobbits don't face West now. So you can continue carrying him in the way you are now." Caltabactos smiled and winked, "Don't worry, it's an easy mistake to make."
"That's east!" shouted Mr. WW.
"No, it's over there," screamed Ms. WW right back.
"Then why don't we point it over there, that's neither your east, or my east," suggested Mr. WW heatedly.
"Because... because... that's... east!" stammered Ms. WW.
"But you just said..." retorted Mr. WW.
"I... lied..." shot Ms. WW.
"Oh, well then why not just..." began Mr. WW, but Ms. WW never got to find out what he was about to suggest, because at that moment, the Queen seemed to sense that now was a good time to impose herself.
She jumped out at the pair, which was rather difficult due to her voluminous skirts, and she practically filled the small clearing, again due to her voluminous skirts.
"I believe I see the problem here," said the Queen magisterially, spotting the dobbit they appeared to be wrestling over, " You are attempting to determine the direction you must take to find my tea party."
The WW's exchanged scared and somewhat exasperated looks.
"Well, never fear, the Queen is here," she continued, ignoring their looks, "But, alas, the party has been cancelled due to an overabundance of mushrooms in our tea room."
"But.. but ma'am," stuttered Mr. WW, "We're trying to follow the four-fingered man's orders."
And the two WW's proceeded to explain Caltabactos' orders. When he was done, they peered anxiously up at the Queen.
"Well, don't you worry my dears, I shall impart some of my wisdom upon you," said the Queen, then leaned close and dropped her voice, "Just don't tell your little friends about this, I wouldn't want it spread around that I was picking favourites among my subjects."
She gave a simpering smile before continuing.
"You see, you happen to be doing it all wrong," said the Queen knowingly, "In this part of the forest, due to the alignment of the sun, east is actually over there," and she pointed to the canopy of leaves above, "So all you have to do is lie the dobbit on their fronts and you're golden."
She patted each WW patronizingly on the top of the head.
"See? The Monarch always knows best."
Lord Star bowed gratuitously at Catalabactos' correction. "Of course, my lord. How silly of me." Lords Thorn and Rain simply shook their heads and marched off.
Lord Star saluted Catalbactos. "Is there any message you'd like me to carry to Lady Syreene, concerning this most wonderous of gifts to her person?"
Past the Arch Fey, the faint wooden screams of impaled Wood Waifs could be heard...
Lord Star saluted once more and marched east, back towards the Triskelion.
The clearing was bare for a moment, and then around seven Mantid's entered, carefully and shyly. They made sure no one else was there, left seven small piles of flower petals, bowed to Caltabactos, and left.
~Elsewhere in Mishway~
The Wood Waifs were rapidly wishing they were trees once more. Extremely. They had yet to meet a force in this world that did not want to kill them or was cursed with insanity. Also, they were easy to defeat, but their vegetative nature made them fairly tough and resolute. It was not uncommon to see gigadobbits with one or two wood waifs impaled upon their horns.
In time, individual gigadobbits would be known not by how large or how aggressive they were, but rather by the number of waifs they could amass on their horn.
Karak grinned, and swooped down into the hive, swinging through the tunnels at high speed, laughing, laughing at his foolishness for not coming up with this kind of entertainment before.
"Very impressive, Mother. Do they get all their nutrients from the water?"
"You still haven't-" the Mother began... before Karak began swinging out of Her vocal range. 'Given me your title... oh well.'
The Itja-Rek soon came upon Her while She was resting... She admitted, She enjoyed the company. With Her Children yet to be laid let alone born, She found Herself quite lonesome without the company of another Mother.
"I thank you, the Itja-Rek. I love the creatures you made to fill our Hive," the Mother complimented him. "But these trees do not survive on water alone... the mist that surrounds them corrodes the flesh of the dead, so that they can feed off of the remains of any creature that dies within them. Watch, even now some of my short lived creatures are dieing, having completed their life work of growing and birthing. See how their insides corrode faster than mere air would allow?"
Then, it took notice of the Mother and Itja-Rek.
Itja-Rek, The Mother, it seems that you have wrought an interesting creation. Life thrives within; I find the varied tastes quite... delicious. Do you plan to create more?
"You are right. I do see this decay ocurring faster than expected. I am even more impressed."
Turning towards Davos, the god of Tombs replied,
"Yes, I do intend to create more, although not quite yet. We must be slow and patient, allowing each wave of life time to thrive before challenging it with something larger. Will you join us in creating, Davos?"
The Mother preened Her antennas in pride... She knew She had done well, but it was always nice when others said the same.
The Davos seemed... well, the Mother was not sure if She trusted him fully. But as She Herself had said, this was a world they could all work together to make. "I too intend to make more. Though this is a fine Hive, without true Children within it, it feels... empty. And I too would like to invite you to help us the Davos, the more the merrier."
" I feel......" said the Masked God of Beauty, truly not sure how to respond. Struggling for a moment to find an answer, the God finally looked over towards the little man trapped in the jar wailing away at the glass and discovered the truth. "I feel empathy..... it is trapped. Perhaps life is mad..... can one extinguish madness but save a little life? Maybe, you should give them less life...... it might make them...... less mad?"
Turning back to the other Deity then, "Who?"
Mishway
" No..no...you don't understand! Life and death has two meanings! Life should be enjoyed! Life should be lived! Lived like a bird! Lived like an ant! Lived like a god! Not...like this..."
Djaf shuddered and hid the screaming man and his Jar underneat the table.
" I can change him though. I can make him in to something else...but not...what I want him to be. "
Djaf sighed and continued.
" Nontheless, I think you are faring quite well now, friend. The storm has passed and there is a fair world out there for you to enjoy. "
"Am I the only one who thinks gifting the Wood Waifs to the one known as Caltabactos was a mistake?"
Lord Thorn said nothing, simply grunting a non-answer while sharpening his blade.
Lord Star simply stared up at the sky, watching clouds.
Lord Rain sighed. "Well can we least agree that the dobbit problem is getting out of hand? Nothing save us hunts them, and we do not hunt enough to stymie their numbers. Already their numbers have become overwhelming. Thorn, do you realize that there's one watching you right now? He's at the edge of your boot."
Lord Thorn looked up long enough to backhand the dobbit. It gave a little scream and fled. "You may have a point, brother. What were you thinking? And why should I help?"
Lord Star simply stared up at the sky, watching the sunset.
Lord Rain allowed a smug smile to enter his face. "Because, dear brother. What I have in mind would also be a quarry that surpasses those thrice-damned gigadobbits."
Lord Thorn nodded at that, his expression slowly turning up into a smile as well.
"I don't think Catalbactos is insane." interjected Lord Star. "He just has issues with reality."
Two sighs could be heard for miles around.
The God of Beauty merely looked back at its strange host and repeated its earlier question, this time attempting to clarify and adding a further addendum: "Who... are you? What....is.... this place?"
The winged god looked at the God of Beauty with something odd in his eyes. As if something deep within those eyes of his was broken. As if a part of him had been cut off by an unknown hand.
" This is my home. This is my place. This is my refuge. This was where I lived...with my.."
The winged God stood still for a moment. A smile appeared on his lips and he turned his back on his guest.
" I...don´t think it's a good idea if you stay. There is so much out there, Friend! So much see, so much to create...please, don't let me stop you. "
His shoulders shook, his hand was placed upon his forehead as he bit himself in the lip with white, sharp teeth.
Blood, red as autumn leaves, ran down his chin, dripping down on the earthern floor, gathering in a small pool.
He had seen them. He had seen them in the visions this one had shown him. Seen those that had been forgotten and to speak with this one was to remember. Remember what was not to be remembered.
Mishway
The God of Beauty watched and listened to this Djaf speak for a time, quizzically marveling at the strangeness of its words. The participles it used seemed to be confused, seemed to suggest some sort of temporal displacement within the other God's mind.... Besides, there was an odd look in his eyes, a suggestion of thoughts drifting within his mind that intrigued the ethereal God.
Djaf then turned his back to the God of Beauty, and seemed to attempt to dismiss its guest. The Masked God caught the notion, however it was not yet aware of such a thing as bad taste, and it found the winged God's actions more interesting at the moment.
The other God's body language seemed to betray some deep distress, the posture seeming to draw the room further into itself and the hand resting upon his head acting as a pillar upon which to rest some weary burden. Something fell to the floor below the God, a single drop intermingling with the slight melodies created by the God of Beauty's presence. It was a liquid, a bright red droplet that stood in stark lonely contrast to the barren earthen floors of the workshop. Blood, thought the Masked God.
The ethereal God floated towards the droplet, inadvertently coming to rest with the Masquerade mere inches from the little vibrant burst of color upon an otherwise drab floor, and directly below the seated Djaf. Strikingly, another scarlet drop fell next to the first, spattering onto the floor in a lopsided manner that seemed to accentuate the location of the first drop. They were beautiful together, but then another came, and another. Falling in ever more erratic patterns in wider and wider arcs, soon there were nearly a dozen such emeralds scattered on the floor before the God.
Turning upwards to determine what was causing the blood to fall so rapidly and with such vigor, the God of Beauty was greeted with the sight of Djaf's form from the below, and he seemed to be shaking. Drifting forward so that it passed fully underneath the winged God and then coming up so the Masquerade was level with the other's face, a quizzical expression appeared on that alabaster visage and it tilted oddly to the side.
Djaf was biting deep into his lips, deep crimson blood flowing freely down his sickly pale chin, creating yet another beautiful contrast. However, the Djaf was also shaking seemingly uncontrollably, his eyes screwed shut and tiny little droplets of water forming at the edges of their sealed lids. The image stirred something deep inside the ethereal cloud, volatile emotions within began to swell in mirror to the other God's state.
The God of Beauty searched its understanding in an attempt to grasp what it was seeing and feeling, finally settling on a series of words to describe what it saw, "Pain..... Sorrow....... Sadness..... Hysterical......"
The Masquerade then screwed into a deep frown in rough approximation of a real face's pain, and the music of the room changed tenor and melody into something best described as an angelic choir singing a heart rending requiem.
"Why?" asked the God of Beauty.
Caltabactos was strolling along the plains of Mishway, when he heard a terrified scream in the distance. Rushing to the source, he saw a fierce looking gigadobbit with a Wood Waif impaled upon his horn. The Wood Waif had a frightened and pained look upon her face, and Caltabactos was shocked at the brutality. The insane god ran over to the gigadobbit, and shooed it away, but not before prying off the poor Woof Waif, who now sported a relatively large hole in her body.
"What in the name of names were you doing near that gigadobbit?! Don't you know they have horns?" he asked with genuine surprise.
The wood waif began to stammer, "But... but... I had to make sure it didn't face West!"
"But that is absolutely ridiculous! What purpose could that possibly serve?"
The Wood Waif blinked twice, having absolutely no idea how to respond. If she did not have wood in place of skin, there would be a large sweatdrop rolling down her face.
"Absolute rubbish!" Caltabactos re-inforced, "Next you'll be telling me that each tree needs to have a number of leaves divisible by three." The god chortled at the absurd notion of that idea, while the wood waif continued to look confused (and rightfully so)
"Actually they need to be pr-"
"Stop this nonsense! And make sure none of your friends are doing the same. Silly wood people!" With this, Caltabactos merrily skipped off, leaving behind him one very confused and relieved wood waif who hurried to spread the news to her companions.
Syreene had been napping. Summer always made her drowsy, and the peacefulness of the new clime certainly wasn't helping. So she slept. The goddess did not dream, other than the ever-present dialogue she maintained within herself.
"Look at ourself. Just lying here, slacking off. How can we become those grand "lords of creation" if all you're doing is sleeping?"
"Sush. I'm tired. You'll get your time soon enough."
"And what if I want to go back?"
"You can't go back. I'm still not sure how we got here to begin with."
"I'll find a way."
"No you won't."
"We'll see."
"Yes, I suppose you're right."
When Syreene finally awoke, she was barely herself. Her hair and musculature had altered even more. A flick of the goddess' hand changed her dress to a tunic, and she immediately felt better. It was then that she noticed the fey servants clustered about her.
"Wood Waifs?" she asked the gathering. "What are you doing attending me?"
But they scattered at the sound of her voice -- perhaps worried that they would be given another inane and dangerous task (or worse, be conscripted into a teaparty!).
Syreene stretched, sighed, and went in search of her Lords. Instead, she found a god skipping along the edge of the Triskelion.
"Greetings, Caltabactos." Her voice sounded much deeper to the goddess. She was reminded again that Summer was fast ending. She did hope the young god still recognized her.
"Ah." Syreene thought about the question. "In a manner of speaking, yes." Syreene tapped her chin. "You wouldn't have happened to run into any wood waifs, have you? About yea high, look like trees on legs? They ran in fear from me when I approached, and I'm not sure why."
Syreene watched a gigadobbit pass by. "And what in Spring's name is that?"
Caltabactos turned to the side and looked at the animals. He frowned, realizing that there were far more than when they were first created. They bred like dobbits!
Syreene titled her head, gripping her chin in thought. "And these things hunt wood waifs?" She looked around. "There sure are a lot of them." "Excellent job at stating the obvious there." Syreene blinked, as if she was surprised by what she had just said. "Look alive woman, I'm not riding shotgun forever, you know."
Syreene shook her head forcibly and turned to Caltabactos as if nothing were amiss. "Do you see what these dobbits are doing to all the plants though?" the goddess gestured towards one flowering grove, where a pack of mantids had banded together to drive back the dobbits -- but it was no use. Whenever they charged one pack, there was another group waiting to sneak in behind them. It was very funny to watch, but the poor mantids did not seem to be having a good time of it.
He characteristicly put his hand to his chin, and then looked at Syreene excitedly, "Oh! I have an idea! Have you tried giga-mantids?"
Cuthlet
((OOC note, I've decided to drop the upper case usage of upper case in Her, Hive etc... didn't really add much or was particularly in character))
The Mother tired... all this creation was taking its toll on her, technically speaking, newly hatched body. Yet the Hive still required so much more... and all this help, it was wonderful! Who knew it would have taken her to make such a glorious hive without the help of the other Mothers?
Hm... there was a thought. She had said herself, the more the merrier, especially if they could live together in harmony and craft this world as one large hive like this one... many Mothers, ruling together, with but a single hive between them that they were content to share. So perhaps another Mother might be useful? It was strange to create yet another Mother before she had even laid the eggs of her children, but her children deserved as grand a home as possible.
The Mother concentrated... this would not be an easy task. But eventually, her entire body constricted up, before managing to squeeze out a massive egg... at least for an insect. The entire process was quite tiring... she much preferred the smaller eggs of her children and creations rather than the large eggs of the Mothers.
Ignoring the two other Mothers in the room for the moment, the Mother turned around to look onto her egg, nuzzling it gently and affectionately with her head. "Mother and Child, welcome to the world," she greeted the egg lovingly.
[PP Expenditure]
0PP - Ascend God (Ordek) - Chapien asked to ascend him, and I'm only too happy to comply.
Syreene nodded distractedly. "You know, I could just..." A snap of the goddess' fingers and the goddess simply disappeared.
Within seconds, the area around Caltabactos erupted with canine howls; silver-furred wolf-like animals began to corporate out of thin air, simply popping into existence, falling 4 or 5 feet to the ground, and then bounding off, barking maniacally.
As the animals scattered, Syreene appeared again, three very sheepish Lords of Spring following behind her.
Syreene admired the chaos as the new animals tore into the woods, devouring what dobbits they could find. "My Exarchs were in the process of spawning Wolves when I startled them. Needless to say, they botched the spell."
The goddess watched one of the creatures blink, reappearing on the other side of the dobbit it was chasing. "My interruption may have left caused the spell of creation to... leave them with strange abilities.
PP Expenditure
-1 PP (from Lords of Spring) Spawn Beast: Orionid, aka Warp Wolves
He looked around the open field, and spotted a gigadobbit trying to protect some of the younger dobbits who were frantically trying to escape their new predators. "Ah, what a regal dobbit! If you'll excuse me for a second..."
The gigadobbit looked weary at Caltabactos approaching him, but did not back off. The god smiled and procured a crown from nowhere, placing it on the gigadobbit's head. Caltabactos impressively exclaimed, "I now give you, King Dobbit I, the divine right to rule your people!"
King Dobbit I looked confused, and stared up at the God of Change in confusion. He responded with, "And how dare you rule your people so poorly! You were just crowned king, and already Orionids are eating your subjects! Hurry up and do something!"
0PP - Spawn King Dobbit - King Dobbit. A gigadobbit with a crown on its head. Has absolutely no special abilities.
It was rather a nice day, with sunny skies and a gentle breeze. Of course, every day in Mishway was like that, so could it really be considered nice? Nice implied it was better than the norm, and since nice was the norm, then was nice just normal, or was the norm always nice? She was snapped violently from her reverie as she stumbled stright into something large and furry. She tripped and fell, and her momentum carried her head over heels, or perhaps heels over head since she fell backwards, back up the path. Her signature vast layers of skirts cushioned her fall as she came to rest beneath a large tree. She got to her feet very slowly, for it was difficult to manoeuvre in her dress, and looked to appraise whatever had knocked her over.
A large Gigadobbit stood before her. Then the old question of since it was a gigadobbit, and gigadobbits were naturally large, was it really a large gigadobbit, or just a regular sized gigadobbit, popped back into her mind. Then she remember that she had no idea what a gigadobbit was, and returned to gaping at it.
The regular-sized gigadobbit standing before her seemed to be wearing a crown, just like her! Well, actually, she didn't wear a crown. But she should. After all, she was a Queen, and Queens wore crowns, didn't they? Well, she decided on the spot that they did. She conjured a tall and pointy crown on the spot and placed it atop her head, finding it concealed her un-upped up-do rather nicely.
"Oh, my dear, you're wearing a crown!" said the Queen, rather obviously stating the obvious. Then she blushed, something she never did. Something Queens never did, she reminded herself. This fact caused her to blush even more.
The gigadobbit blinked dolefully at her.
"Oh, you sly dog you, can't you see I'm wearing a crown like yours? See? We have so much in common already," crooned the Queen, acting quite unlike herself.
The gigadobbit continued to stare. The Wood Waif impaled on his horn seemed to wilt slightly. The Queen seemed to spot the slight movement.
"Oh dear, is that for me? Oh, you are too kind!" she blushed once more, and rushed to pry her prize from the horn.
It was difficult work, as the Waif was impaled pretty deep, and the gigadobbit certainly was not helping. She attempted to use a nearby rock for leverage. Finally, after much huffing, puffing, grunting and wheezing, the Waif came free, and the Queen once more fell heels over head, backwards down the forest path. She rose to her feet once more, breathing heavily. She was not used to this much physical exertion.
"You... my friend..." she said between gasps for air, "Are such... a treat..."
She marched forward and clapped a hand on its high shoulder and lead him from the clearing, the Wood Waif now dragging pathetically behind the pair, pulled by one outstretched arm. As the Queen chattered on about all the monarchial activities the two could undertake together, the wood Waif's wide, staring eyes seemed to narrow ever so slightly with exasperation.
Syreene left Caltabactos as quickly as she had found him. When she had interrupted her exarchs, she had... heard something. It was a strange sound, nearly ultrasonic in frequency -- one of those things that were more felt than heard. Could Mishway have been less deserted than she had initially found it?
"Did you hear the call too, Sonnet?"
"Yes, Syreene. I did."
The goddess drifted south, allowing her form to flicker with corporeality. Below the grassy fields, and beneath the dark oceans, beneath even the tan, loamy soil, Syreene's divinity crept ever downward. The sound was louder here, and more constant. Like a pulse. It's source was so small, Syreene missed it at first, doubling back in confusion when the sound suddenly began to diminish in its intensity. After tedious minutes of searching, Syreene finally erupted back onto the surface with her prize.
The goddess could barely make out the Triskelion and the Waltzing Mountains in the distance, so far had she come in her search. She looked down at what she held in her hand -- a slim fragment of glittering otherness. A divine spark, left over from before whatever had cloistered this place.
"What do we do with it, Sonnet?"
"There is little we can do with it, Syreene. Whatever divinity once made use of that is long gone. At best, we could craft what remains into a confluence of experiences. It could not tell us what transpired here, long ago, but it would be more worldly than any of the other divinities we've yet encounter, other than perhaps Djaf."
"Then we are in agreement."
Syreene clutched the shattered spark tight, hands infused with the white glow of divine power. Slowly, the spark began to swirl and spin. She cast the spark some distance away, and let the air of the plane breath life into the burgeoning effigy.
PP Expenditure
0 PP -- Ascend God Poliphas (Kal_Marshall)
~~Mishway~~
The divine spark grew in size, taking on a more humanoid shape. As the shape was growing, it was steadily rising up into the sky. Then, as the glow faded from the newly awakened god, the light started weaving around him, forming what appeared to be glowing chainmail. Finally, with a flash of lightning, Poliphas arrived on Mishway. The rumble of thunder echoing in the distance heralding the arrival of a new god. Poliphas looks around at the plains he landed in. A look of confusion crossed his face.
"But this is my... I'm not still dreaming, am I? No, I recall being awoken. But..."
Poliphas closed his eyes. A sense of another being like him was not too far away. Perhaps this was the one who woke him. And maybe they would have the answers he was looking for. Poliphas walked toward the source of divine energy and encountered Syreene. He turned to the other god and asked:
"Who are you? And how did you awaken me? And where is..."
Poliphas' voice trailed off after the last question. Another look of confusion appeared on the new god's face. It seemed he could not recall what he was looking for.
"I am Syreene, Lady of Spring. Mistress of the Seasons, and the Feymother." The goddess gestured to her very masculine form. "Though I must admit that this is not how I usually appear. The Seasons are changing, you see."
She rubbed her chin, considering the new being. "I'm not sure how to answer your questions though. All I can say for certain is that whatever remnants of memory you have are from a place far gone, and of things long vanished. "
A faint voice resonated from the egg, so faint it could only barely be heard, Where am I?
Poliphas pondered the answers Syreene had given him. The memory fragment theory would explain why he could remember his name, but not how he had come to be here in the first place. He made plans to search for more answers at a later date, but brought his attention to the Lady before him.
"Yes, that does seem to answer why there are gaps in my memory. I am an echo of what was before. And do not apologize about your appearance. It only seems fair that the Mistress of Seasons would change with the seasons. And judging from what I can recall, it would be mid to late summer here. How far do your changes take you?"
"Not much longer I'm afraid. Within hours I'll have faded entirely." Syreene looked at Poliphas quizzically.
"What I can say is that there is very little left in this world. I have only recently arrived, and though my appearance seems to have woken the plane from its lethargy, there remains but little to fill these vast expanses." She paused. "The oceans are new, though."
"You're right. There is an aura on that ocean from the one that made it. That aura seems to remind me something, but whether I recognize it or it's an echo, I can't distinguish quite yet."
Poliphas turned to face towards the direction of the Triskelion. His gaze pierced towards the horizon.
"I can sense your aura on something over there. I also sense the presence of two other strong auras in that area. Would do me the honor of accompanying me to see what you have made? Perhaps I can also meet the ones whose auras I sense there."
"Ah, but I can make no such guarantees. If you would seek those others out, you must do it on your own. As I said, I am not long for this world."
Syreene waved her hand, and the world warped, bringing the two gods to the foot of the Triskelion.
"I shall see you in due time, I'm sure."
Without another word, the goddess turned away, walking up towards the peak of the forested hill, leaving Poliphas alone but for the dobbits.
~Mishway~
Poliphas watched as his first aquaintance departed. Left on his own, Poliphas started to inspect the hill's side. A dobbit hopped by, watching the god from a distance. Poliphas ended his inspection of the hillside and proceeded to turn around and walk away from the Triskelion. He began to think to himself. Why did those items have auras, when the rest of the world seemed so flat? Perhaps they were not part of this world before?
There was but one way to find out. He would have to make something of his own. Poliphas ended his walk in the middle of one Mishway's many open meadows. He then sat down on the ground and closed his eyes while crossing his legs beneath him. A moment passed, then the earth started to rumble. A column of stone rose out of the ground, lifting the ground Poliphas was sitting on. The column continued to grow, raising him higher and higher into Mishway's sky. After a minute, Poliphas opened his eyes. The column of stone stopped rising, and the new god looked over the land. He could see the ocean in the distance, stretching off until he couldn't see any further. The hillside, from this vantage, could clearly be seen as having three arms eminating from a center point. Oddly enough, he could still see the dobbits, though much fewer in number.
With his new perspective, Poliphas looked over the land, and mentally eliminated all objects with an aura. He gasped. What she had said before was true. There was nothing to distinguish one area from another. This used to be an infinite plane of plains. But why? And for how long had he been buried there?
" Why? I don't know why any longer. I don't know why I live! I don't know why I am here! I don't know anything but the pain that comes each time I think about it. "
Djaf fell down on his knees. His head low, tears sliding down his cheeks and blood...blood red as the falling sun dripping down on the floor. He kneeled in his own blood. Black hair covered his face as he spoke anew.
" I can see them. I see faces. I see memories...I see dancing figures and cities white as snow...I see how it all burns and how they...fade and turns in to ash in front of my eyes. I see the one I loved. I see our offspring...but I can't understand. I can't reason....I CAN NOT THINK ABOUT IT! "
Those last words the winged screamed. Screamed with a voice dark and brooding, a voice filled with divine power, a voice that made jars break and glass shatter.
There he kneeled. The god of Death, trapped in his own mind, kneeling in his own blood with his all-seeing eyes focused on the ground.
" You...friend...you...are like me...can you help me? Heal me? Fix me? "
Cuthlet
The egg, it moved about and spoke already! Such was the wonders of Mothers she supposed... able to fast track nature however they saw fit. She wasn't sure she approved of such... but then again, who knew how long it would have taken to furbish the hive without such fast tracking?
"Welcome Child and Mother," the Mother spoke onto the egg, gently breathing over it to keep it warm. "This is the Hive, a wonderful place many Mothers worked on together to provide a home for our children... and you are a Mother yourself, one which was born in the way of Children, making you very special indeed."
The entity was confused. All he could see, after all, was darkness, so he could not see who was speaking, nor could he see what she this Hive she spoke of. He once again made an attempt to break loose from the egg, causing the egg to shake again, but once again failed.
The voice from the egg came again, I only see darkness... I think I may be stuck.
Cuthlet
The Mother was tempted to simply pierce open the Mothers egg to let it out... but that was not the way things worked in this world. Though it may seem like pity or mercy, doing so was cruelty, as the creature inside the egg would not be strong enough for the world if it was not strong enough to leave its egg. Besides, the Mother had exited her egg when the time came, so would this Mother.
"If you are stuck, then you are not ready to leave your egg," the Mother lectured gently. "Either burst through with all your might, or wait until you are stronger to break free. I love you Mother and Child, but I cannot let you free of your egg until you are ready, for your own good."
The entity once again tried to escape, using all of its might, yet it was not yet strong enough to break free. The voice resonated, Well, then I suppose I am stuck here for a while... tell me, is anyone else out there?
The only gods who do not get rollover PP due to their age are:
Order (Chapien)
Poliphas (Kal_Marshall)
The Mother was patient, as any mother should be... she could not expect her Child to grow up and hatch in a mere instant!
"Yes, there are others like us out here as well," the Mother replied. "Other Mothers, like the Davos and the Itja-Rek... hm, perhaps we should find another title for you as well apart from the Mother? Some might be confused if there were two Mothers with the same title."
Call me... Ordek.
The Mother preened her antenna as she thought. The Ordek... a fine name as far as names went, whatever the reasoning behind them was. She supposed it was just to differentiate one from another... how lucky she was to be the only The Mother then!
"Very well the Ordek," the Mother replied, before nuzzling the egg affectionately. "That shall be your 'name', though whatever you call yourself you are still a Mother, and my Child."
Outside, the egg shook more then ever before, and a crack even appeared on the surface. Within, Ordek pushed against the walls of the egg with all of his might until finally...
With a final crack, the egg literally exploded into pieces, revealing a shapeable, gaseous mass of pale light. A voice resonated from the light, Finally, out of that dark place!
Cuthlet
My, her Child-Mother was certainly... not like her. Then again, she didn't know why she expected anything different considering... although she had to wonder why such an incorporeal looking Mother had such trouble getting out of an egg, surely it could have simply oozed out through the walls or some such?
"Welcome to the world, dear Child of mine," The Mother greeted the Ordek warmly. "The Hive of it anyway... the world is much bigger than just this place, though all the places outside of it seem to be harsh and painful."
Itja-Rek would have been paying more attention to the birthing of a god behind him, but he was distracted. He kept hearing a strange sucking sound, as if the air in the room was being sucked into a vacuum. He floated out of The Hive, traveling southwest and following the sound as it grew slightly louder. Eventually he dove beneath the surface, and wasn't entirely surprised to see that he was just above his Tomb's resting place, the mountain he had taken to calling Wenet, meaning 'boat of existence' in some dialect his souls remembered.
Down and down he went, entering the tunnel where the sound was an order of magnitude louder. Stopping before the ruin of his tomb, Itja-Rek spent a few moments reorganizing the place, opening up a passageway for himself into the central room where he had begun his existence. He floated into his place of beginning and the noise grew deafening. He also started to feel a... well, for lack of a better word, a 'pull' at his very core self. He looked down at his chest and saw a thin line of blackness, of otherness streaming off of his body towards the center of the room. he drew closer and could see a tiny hole of blackness floating in the center of the room, which sucked at his essence with greater vigor as he approached as if it was hungry to reclaim him.
Annoyed and a little scared, Itja-Rek grabbed hold of the cord of Otherness that was flowing into the void and pulled it, noting with some satisfaction that the hole offered very little resistance, his Otherness returning to him quickly.
Then there was a snag. The noise stopped, but so did the process of reclaiming his essence. Itja-Rek grabbed hold of the line of otherness and gave it a strong tug. With a popping sound, a tuft of teal-green grass appeared and the noise resumed. Itja-Rek spent a fraction of a second eying the grass and wondering where it had come from before resuming his efforts. The cord of otherness became a string, which became a thread, and just as he felt he was about to claim the last bit of his self back from the void, something else blocked the opening. Itja-Rek tugged on his thread of self, but it would not budge. Steeling himself, he grabbed hold of the thread with both hands and with all his might yanked. With another popping sound, something else, something far larger than a tuft of grass came flying through the opening, landing somewhere behind the god.
With all of his essence reclaimed, Itja-Rek examined the hole, and with his thumb and forefinger, crushed the portal to the beyond, sealing it shut, at least for the time being. Satisfied, the god turned around to see what he had brought through from the other side.
1 PP: Mold Land (lesser): Naming my Tomb's seamount Wenet, so that it survives the warp intact.
0 PP: Ascend God: Ascending Shadow's god.
3/6 PP remaining.
He realized he was asking many questions, but at the same time he knew the only way to find anything out was to ask questions.
There was a new presence in Mishway. It revealed itself by introducing a new concept to the plane's inhabitants. A dozing Orionid perked its ears up with curiosity; a wood waif, morosely sitting by a tree looked up in surprise, but not nearly the surprise of the gigadobbit that had been about to impale her. It hopped off, its prey completely forgotten. But it was the trees that most felt the new presence. Throughout the Triskelion, wave upon wave of enrapturing music slunk out, caressing the conciousness of those animals it touched. But it was the trees that felt the full effect of the music. Wherever the lilting notes could be heard, the trees shuddered and swayed as if in the wind, their leaves rapidly changing from greens and blues to crimsons and oranges.
Finally, the musician stepped out from the heart of the Triskelion to observe the plane proper. He took in the wide plains, the far-off oceans, and the Egg Tree. At this, he frowned, subtly altering the timbre of his music. In response the Egg Tree shuddered, before eventually aquiescing, dropping eggs, fruit, and leaves all to stand tall and proudly bare. The Musician plucked at his lute more thoughtfully, taking in the Waltzing Mountains, and one single pillar that reached for the skies.
One of the Triskelion's many Orionids approached him, sniffing warily. The god (for that is what he was) patted it on the head fondly. He sat at the edge of the Triskelion, in full view of both pillar, egg tree, and waltzing mountains, and continued, more softly now, to pluck at his lute.
"Lo, and I am arrived." He said, to the Orionid. "Sonnet, Lord of Autumn, has come once more."
Mishway
The insubstantial form of the Masked God of Beauty trembled in trepidation at the actions of this Djaf. An odd feeling was aroused deep within that nebulous cloud of energy, for the God simultaneously felt empathetic, repulsed, and fascinated by the anthropoid’s sorrow. Could it be, that even in the midst of this pain there could be found a kind of beauty all its own?
Thinking back, The Masked God recalled its flight through as the titanic storm raged around its form, each strike of energy driving a primordial fear deeper into the God's consciousness. However, even amidst that fear and terror, the God had become aware of the world as never before, its senses heightened and its body pushing itself to the edge of whatever ill-defined limits it might have. It was almost as if the being was living a completely different life, a shift in perspective with which to view the world.
The God of Beauty mused on these thoughts for but a moment when Djaf’s beseeching words reached its ears (well, whatever in that floating incandescent mass could constitute ears). The eyes of the Masquerade grew larger and quickly the God's face darted back and forth as it reexamined the room, noting the shattered glass and discarded specimens that littered the floor. The Masked God's gaze then crossed the still full glass of the deep velvety concoction that Djaf had offered him earlier.
Something within the insubstantial mass or roiling energy and patterns shifted within the body of the God, then abruptly a fully solid tan humanoid foot and leg shot out of the God and wrapped around Djaf towards the cup. While the skin tone and the foot conformed to what were apparently normal standards if one were to examine them, the leg however possessed nearly half a dozen joints between where it left the energized cloud and the ankle. The abnormally jointed foot neared the cup and then hesitated for a moment, circling the object seeking a new angle and perspective before rapidly withdrawing back into the strange glow of the God of Beauty.
As the leg withdrew, another substantial appendage shot forth from the Masked God, this time being a hand and still possessing far too many joints in far too short a distance. The hand grasped the hilt of the cup as the God had observed Djaf do earlier, and then circled back around to the front of Djaf so that nearly 12 feet of tan, jointed arm wrapped behind and surrounded the winged God.
The arm then abruptly jerked in the direction of the bleeding mourning deity. The velvet liquid within splashed all over the other God's face and clothing before dripping to the floor to intermingle with the deeper red blood of Djaf. The God's face was now covered in wine; however the action of the God of Beauty had somehow stopped the bleeding.
The Masquerade shifted then to a beaming smile as the God of Beauty took pride in what it thought was its apparent achievement of "fixing" and "healing" Djaf.
~Mishway~
From high atop the stone pillar, Poliphas heard a scream. A scream of pain and fear. He turned his attention towards the direction the scream came from. In the distance, he saw a couple of auras right next to each other. Guessing the scream had come from there, Poliphas used the same trick shown him by the Spring Goddess for rapid travel.
Poliphas arrived in a flash of lightning, just outside of the space marked as The Workshop. Fearing for the one who screamed, Poliphas entered the space cautiously in case the thing that inflicted the pain was still nearby. He stepped around a shard of glass, not because he could be harmed by it but to remain undetected for a moment longer.
As Poliphas entered the main chamber, he was shocked to find two others like him. Divine ones. One, glowing in the dim light with a great smiling mask upon it; the other, raven-haired and covered in wine, small . Poliphas concluded that a wounded god was the likeliest cause of the scream. He had found the source, alright. But why was this god bleeding, and what caused his injuries?
Well, he would just have to look at the past, to the moment of the blood pool's creation. Poliphas quickly closed his eyes, travelling mentally back to the beginning of the pool of blood on the floor. Poliphas watched the raven-haired god screaming about his memories and biting his lip. The blood trickled down the god's face and fell to the floor.
Poliphas shook his eyes open in a start. His wounds were self-inflicted? A small portion of Poliphas' mind was relieved that there wasn't anything in the room that was going to harm him, but the rest focused on the hurt god in front of him. The wounds were healing up, but a concern still remained.
"Why did you hurt yourself?"
Then it came to him. The skies were devoid of life. The ground had dobbits and orionids, the sea had fish and sichons, but there was nothing to fill the lifelessness above.
Quickly getting up from off his back, Caltabactos clapped his hands like a child, and his body vanished, save the hand. The hand's index finger traced a circle in the air and then went through the imaginary circle.
Reality seemed to st-
-bzrt-
-op for a moment, as the hand tore a hole into it. Caltabactos came out of the nothing grasping two shrieking large birds. Caltabactos loosened his grip, and the birds frantically escaped. They were emerald-plumed, with sharp yellow beaks and orange eyes. Their disproportionately long wings had a chain of feathers flowing down from the wings, perpendicular to the ground.
The hand waved goodbye to them, and walked off (using its two largest fingers as legs), looking for more mischief to cause. A glowing pink wisp of light appeared where Caltabactos traced the circle, appearing almost like a rift.
1PP - Spawn Creature - Eroes (pronounced "Arrows"), birds of (dobbit) prey that are rather brightly colored.
Itja-Rek turned around to see the oddest looking creature lying on the ground in a heap. As it slowly pulled itself up, the humanoid mumbled and sputtered at the water all around. Eyes bulging, it shook it's hand angrily at the water all around, and surprisingly enough, the water receded around him, leaving him in a small dry bubble. Snatching his off-white hat from the damp ground and straightening it's, his pitch black haqnds worked at a fevered pitch, shaking his shirt and pants in the nearly created air bubble in an attempt to dry them The whole while, it constantly muttered something inaudible under it's breath.
Finally looking up to see where he was and spotting his nearby spectator, the left side of his face curled into a slight frown. "And just who are you to bring me here?"
Itja-Rek studied the being before him for a long moment, paying close attention to its ability to repel water. He would have to share that trick with the Mother to see if the other god would deign to enter the watery depths if surrounded by a bubble of precious air.
"Who am I? No, the question here is who are you?" Itja-Rek replied with a small amount of heat in his voice. "Were you the one trying to steal back my essence into the greater Otherness? If so, Sir, know that I have no intention of returning to that place."
"Of course you don't know me. There is no knowing of anything out there, is there? But somehow you were the one holding on to the end of my core being that was being drawn back into the Beyond, and for that reason alone, I will need an explanation. Who are you, and what do you want with me?"
Itja-Rek's eyes narrowed. He had brought nothing here, and he was getting a bit frustrated at this thing's obstinance.
"Itja-Rek. If you have nothing you wish to discuss with me, then get out of my house."
Itja-Rek narrowed his eyes, glaring at the newcomer.
Or stay a while, a voice thought in his head. Itja-Rek felt his mouth moving in response, his voice coming out slightly different.
"Or stay a while, friend. Welcome to Culthet, land of shadows and wetness. It is my hope that -"
Through sheer force of will, the god shoved the voice back down inside his brain. What had happened?
"No. Get out." He muttered, pointing towards the door.
It wasn't long before Caltabactos' two-fingered wandering brought it within sight of the lute-playing god. Sonnet looked up, once, as Caltabactos approached, and then paid him no more heed. But before the god had gotten within spitting distance of the musician, he felt a small tug on his right thumb.
"Psst!" Whispered Lord Star, in an over-exaggerated tone of secrecy. "You don't want to go talk to that one. He's a scary sort, you see." Lord Star paused for a moment, and then looked up at the sky. "Did you know that the rainbows are flying these days? And dropping feathers everywhere as well."
After shaking Lord Star off, Caltabactos walked over to Lord Sonnet. His steps were awkward as this form was much bulkier than his usual humanoid form. But people were getting used to the violet-haired form, and Caltabactos couldn't let that happen. When he approached the Lord of Autumn, Caltabactos said,
"Goodbye... err, Hello! I have not seen you before."
"No, get out. This is my home and like it or not, you're intruding."
"Well, its not really MY home, its the home of the thing I stole it from."
"No. Its my home, and I'd prefer it if the both of you would just shut up and leave me alone."
"No can do, Soul-man! I'm you and you're me. We live in perfect harmony!"
"No. You are NOT me. Identify yourself."
"Nope! Feel free to stay as long as you'd like, Aquaphobe-man! I give you permission."
"No. You are one of MY souls. You cannot give permission that I deny."
"And why not? I was here before you. Its been my home since... well, since a long time ago. I don't remember the details."
"You mean it was the home of your dead, rotting corpse."
"Hey, thats mean."
"What, that all thats left of you is pulverized dust? Shall I call you Dust-Man?"
"Stop that."
"Stop what, telling the truth? You are dust, you are nothing. Without me you'd still be bound to that fleck of 'you' that remains in this tomb."
"I strongly dislike you."
"I find that obvious, as you're trying to contradict me."
"I'm trying to help you."
"You can help me by leaving me alone..."
This continued for some time while the new god watched from a short distance away...
"But... but... he's scary!" Lord Star mumbled weakly at Caltabactos' retreating form. He dashed off the other way. He sought his brothers. They must learn that Lord Sonnet walked again.
--
Sonnet was silent for a time, though he continued to strum his lute. Finally, he spoke. "You are known to me. You are Caltabactos. I watched you transform, just now, after talking to that Lord of Spring. I'm betting he warned you away from me? Different place, same old superstitions. You'd think Syreene would have learned to give the cretins a better sense of perspective, some better way at looking towards the full picture. Perhaps I expect too much of them. They are, after all, only barely more than mortal."
The Orionid next to him barked once, happily at that. It tried to lick at Caltabactos' hand.
Watching the conversation go on for several long moments, he smiled. "Never could slice my own head open to find out what's going on inside. Given that my new friend is distracted, now is the perfect opportunity."
Walking up beside the distracted god and hefting a large rock he passed, he continued to watch and listened for a particularly long sentence, then suddenly slammed the rock down on the back of the gods head, splitting it wide open.
Thinking had suddenly grown very, very difficult for some reason.
"What. Is... Fibbitywidgits? Fibiitywidgets fibbitywidgits fibbitywidgets? Fibbitywidgets."
Something was not right.
"Pentibiditywidgibitynibittyidgitizativintizzy!" he shouted.
Seeing the hole was still not big enough, he smashed his rock down one more time, nodding at the excellent cracking noise it made. "Quite satisfactory, if a bit mundane and uninventive. I'll need to make better tools for this in the future."
Tossing the rock aside, he peered into the newly form gaping hole in Itja-Rek's head, quite intrigued by the whirling masse of spirits that formed this creatures mind. "A most unusual find. Even his insides are formed of spirits. I must file this away for future usage."
Reaching an arm inside (after carefully pulling up the sleeve of his coat), he giggled slightly at the odd feeling as the spirits slipped and moved around his arm and hand as he dug around. Feeling a sudden shock of pain, he ripped his arm back out and looked back inside.
"Odd, what is that black one? That doesn't seem to belong. Hm, I wonder if it's the second voice. Yeah, it's definitely the source of the second voice."
Confident in his reasoning, despite having no evidence, he thrust his hand back into the gods head, getting a firm grasp on the odd black spirit, and pulling it out. Narrowly avoiding a nasty bite, he hurled it against a nearby wall then looked back at his patient. "Hm, you conscious down there still? Or have I irreparably damaged you?"
"You know, you could have asked nicely... that was somewhat unpleasant." he said wryly, glancing significantly towards the rock.
"However, I feel I must thank you for dealing with that... issue. You may stay here if you wish, and I will answer any questions you may have. I feel it will take me a few moments to determine if I am damaged."
So, thats you that I just threw out... having an inactive god in my own psyche that may or may not return at any given moment was a bit much. PM me if you want to discuss the possibility that shadow got the wrong spirit.
Sonnet's eyes flashed dangerously. "The one you know as Syreene is a part of me, yes, but I assure you. We are two very different beings." Sonnet had stopped playing the lute. "Had you something in particular you wanted from me, or were you just willfully wasting my time?"
The tone in Sonnet's voice was enough to make the Orionid blink away in fear.
Wine covered his face. The god of Beauty had taken human form. A complete stranger had entered his home asking odd questions about odd things. His wounds were healed and everything...everything...was just so...so...odd?
Djaf began to laugn. No..he began to roar out of laughter. It was laughter filled with a type of joy that he hadn't felt for quite some time. His eyes shone with golden light as he slapped his knees as he continue to laugh, laugh and laugh.
A laugh that never seemed to end.
He arose with a dazzling smile on his lips, grabbed the God of Beauty, kissed him on the forehead and hugged him. Still laughing. His hair was black, his eyes shone and he continued to smile. The wine vanished from his robes and he began to shine. A golden aura appeared around him.
All those thoughts, all that pain, all those memories...everything had just faded away in the same moment his guest had tried to drown him in his own wine.
" Thank you.." He said after several minutes filled with nothing but laughter and an unontrollable joy, the like few had seen.
For a long time, Sonnet simply stared at Caltabactos. Eroes flew by overhead, fluting their mournful cries. A tumbleweed of autumn leaves blew past. And still there was silence and stillness between the two gods.
Finally, Sonnet blinked and burst into laughter. Meekly, the Orionid slunk back beside the Autumn Lord. Sonnet continued to laugh, echoing despite the vast openness of the plains. Sonnet brushed away tears from his eyes, still lapsing into a brief chorus of chuckles now and again. He eventually managed to calm down enough to look Caltabactos in the eye -- only to fall to pieces yet again in fresh rolls of laughter.
"You--- you---" wheezed the god, still not quite in control of himself. "You are --- the first person -- to stand up to me -- for as long as I can remember. Hooo!" Sonnet took a deep breath, and continued. "Wooo. Yes. I like you. You've got all the right kinds of spunk." Sonnet ran a hand through his blonde hair, before standing up and bowing. "I'm sorry, I think I put us off on the wrong foot." He bowed deeply. "I am Sonnet, Lord of Autumn, Songweaver, and Scion of the Stars. I know you as Caltabactos, but not what of."
"Now, don't laugh my dear, this is the first time I've tried anything like this," called the Queen from behind what appeared to be a screen woven from millions of teal-green blades of grass.
She stepped out from behind the screen, revealing herself to the Kind Dobbit, who lounged lazily by the foot of a nearby tree. She appeared to be wearing what appeared to be hundreds of dobbit pelts all sewn together. The soft brown expanse was dotted by the occasional vibrant dobbit-flower-tail. The Wood Waif was draped artistically around her neck. She marched up to the King Dobbit and began to parade herself, somewhat insensitively, in front of him. She was, after all, wearing the skins of his subjects.
"What do you think?" she asked, "Does it make me look fat?"
The truth was, it did. Then again, everything the Queen wore inevitably made her look fat. It was just the way she was. The King Dobbit, however, merely sniffed hopefully at the Wood Waif.
"Oh, you, you're too kind," said the Queen, blushing, having obviously garnered some alternate meaning from the sniff.
She began to twirl about the clearing, humming softly to herself. She stopped when she spotted yet another dead dobbit.
"My, my, these dobbits do appear to be dropping like, well, dobbits," she said, and stooped to claim the pelt. She stuffed it in her generous cleavage and straightened up.
"Oh dear, those would look so nice in a hat, wouldn't you agree?" she said, spotting some brightly coloured birds sitting in a distant and leaveless tree.
Then she realized what tree it was, and her heart skipped a beat. In an instant, she was sprinting, moving much more quickly than should be possible with all that fur. She was beside the Egg Tree before long, staring up into its branches.
"Mister, I am very disappointed in you..." she began sternly.
She placed her hands on her hips, and stuck out her lower lip, pouting.
"Why didn't you tell me you got a haircut? We could have gone together!"
Cuthlet
Hm... the Ordek did indeed seem to be a Child and Mother. However, she seemed to have some measure of difficulty breaking free from her egg... perhaps she was not as strong as she should be? Perhaps a small test to see if she had hatched too soon after all... and to teach her the joys of being a Mother.
"The Ordek, beloved Mother and Child, can you create?" the Mother asked, a little concerned. "See, watch what I do, and so something similar."
Spying a group of ants and centipedes, the Mother bent down and breathed onto them with a fine, green mist... which promptly caused the insects to grow to giant proportions. The ants were happy to make their home in the upper levels of the keep, using some of the chambers for their queen chambers and larvae, while gathering food from the Heart Trees in other rooms. The centipedes, on the other hand, mostly extended to the Twisted Hive below (though some did continue to live above), dining on their smaller insectoid brothers, and the occasional giant ant that was foolish enough to walk past them.
"Now you try," the Mother urged the Ordek gently.
1PP - Spawn Heroic Beast - Giant Ants - The Mother spawns Giant Ants, which make their homes in the Hive
1PP - Spawn Heroic Beast - Centipedes - The Mother spawns Centipedes, which make their homes primarily in the Twisted Hive
4/6 PP
Poliphas looked at the laughing god in amazement. From screaming loud enough to nearly shatter the world, to laughing uncontrollably? The wound on the god's face may have faded, but Poliphas suspected there was a deeper wound inside the god. Unfortunately, he could not see a way inside the laughing god. Poliphas then smiled and spoke:
"Forgive my intrusion, but I heard a scream and had to see what had caused it. What ever it was, seems to have been washed away by that liquid in the cup. I should introduce myself, seeing as this area is your making. My name is Poliphas. I have been reborn by Syreene, the Spring Goddess, from the remains of buried god."
Poliphas paused for a moment, while he looked around the workshop and nodded in satisfaction.
"I see you are a maker of things as well. I would enjoy working with you on a project someday. If I may have your names?"
Hulnajekthulazirettyulopjuwarsez felt the rather unpleasant sensation of having a hard, blunt object pounded against his skull, twice, and then was thrown into the dark ocean and, coincedentally, flew head first into a rock. He swam, angrily, back to the tomb to confront the two gods who had caused this trauma. "Would one of you two care to explain why you beat me over the head!?"
And then, Hulna realized exactly what had happened. He felt a divine spark inside of him- his OWN divine spark. He was no longer bound to that weak-minded fool of a god! He was FREE! "Woo-hoo! I'm free! FREE!"
He was so filled with life, Hulna felt the urge to create something. Or rather, someone. A companion. Someone with an intellect rivalling his own. And so he shaped the ocean water with the power of hin mind, shaping it into a form similar to his own, but more feminine. "Welcome to this world, my child. What name would you choose for yourself?" Hulna projected into his creation's newly-formed mind. She pondered for a moment, and responded in kind, "Call me Urethahl, Father."
So Hulna turned to the others and said, "Forgive me for my previous outburst. My name is Hulna, and this in my daughter, Ur."
6/6 PP
-4 Ascend Arbitration Exarch Urethahl
2/6 PP
Caltabactos watched the orionid scamper off at the sudden laughter, and he suppressed the urge to follow the beast and transform it into a gigaorionid. Turning his attention back to the Lord Sonnet in front of him, Caltabactos smiled and said, "I'm... huh, I guess I don't really have any titles. Maybe Caltabactos the Insane. That has a nice ring to it... anyway, I like what you've done with the place," the god vaguely gestured toward the bare trees and the swirling leaves, "everything is so different, but nothing really changed."
Sonnet nodded in agreement. "Yes. It's a gentler hand than my sweet Syreene's. Alwaysso eager to explore and create, that one." He scowled briefly. "Her bumbling underlings are worse. Shameful hedonists." Sonnet stroked his thin beard and considered Caltabactos.
"You are a god too, yes? I recognize these forests as the work of my counterpart, and these find wolves as that of her henchmen." he paused at that. "Which is odd, because usually their work is less than adequate. Must be the change of scenery. Ah, but where was I? Right. What out of these lands bears your mark? What beings look to you, sing songs, and praise your name?"
"Tree? Why are you doing that tree?" demanded the Queen in an anxious voice.
The rain was driving at her, sliding her curls down from their arrangement atop her head, soaking her dobbit-fur dress. The soaked garment weighed at her, and though she felt its downward pull, she had eyes only for the tree. A matter of steps away, in the dry Mishwayan air, all was bright and sunny, but beneath the dark rain, the light seemed shut out. The Queen felt as she never had before: cold, alone, pathetic, miserable, and worst of all, frightened out of her wits.
Thunder rent the air, and the Queen yelped and clapped her hands over her ears, not comprehending the sound. This was wrong, something was terribly, terribly wrong.
And now there was something else falling with the rain. Small insects were falling with steady plopping noises upon the wet grass, pattering against the bark of the tree and skittering off. The Queen gazed, mesmerized, horrified, at a large, wet, tentacled thing plopped onto the front of her dress and rolled off onto the ground.
"I'm warning you tree," growled the Queen, and now there was real menace in her voice, "Stop this right now, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, STOP!!!"
The last was a scream, and it went on and on. It mingled with the thunder and the lashing rain, became a part of them, until it was just meaningless sound, all lashing, attacking, buffeting and terrorizing the poor Queen. The sound continued even after she closed her mouth. And then, it stopped. It all stopped. It was still.
The Queen brushed a lock of damp hair from her face and strode away with as much dignity as she could muster in her vast, soaken dress. The Egg Tree did not rain again. But as the Queen strode away, had she chanced a look upwards, she would have seen, hanging amidst the naked boughs of the tree, a new, shiny, and wholly other egg.
"Come dearie," said the Queen to the King Dobbit, "Let us go, I don't think the tree wants to play right now."
0 PP Ascend God - Silis
First, he took some of the giant ants and made them even larger then previous, large enough to be dangerous, and then took the centipedes and did the same thing.
Finally, using his powers, he did something fairly... interesting. He got the two seperate species to attack one another, convincing each that they and they alone deserved to live in the Hive, the larger of each species doing the majority of the fighting.
The violence made Ordek feel good. Very good. A voice resonated, How's that?
PP
1 -Spawn Heroic Beast- Warrior Ant
1- Spawn Heroic Beast- Warrior Centipede
"Very good, Child and Mother," the Mother complimented Ordek, a little akin to how a mother might congradulate her child on a macaroni picture. "However, there is something I must tell you before you get any ideas... do you see how these two creatures fight?"
As if to illustrate her point, a group of ants and centipedes began to rend into eachother, each side trying to demolish the other. "I do not approve of their fighting, but I can admire the result... watch how each side is supporting eachother, unified in purpose by the conflict to become an even tighter community. Unity among their own race solidified by warring against another. However..."
The Mother turned to the Ordek, frowning down at him as she went on with her lecture. "If you were instead to create that conflict in one creature, to make them fight among themselves, the result would not be anywhere near as admirable. In fact, it would be an abomination. Each individual would kill indescriminately, causing nothing but chaos and death until nothing was left... even if one were to love such conflict, the resulting oblivion would mean no more of it, and the loss of community would reduce the conflict into nothing more than a brawl, rather than a long term conflict with sides and anything approaching victory... do you understand, Child and Mother?"
I understand, Mother, the voice resonated.
"Good, I am happy you understand the importance of community and unity," the Mother replied happily. Nothing was more important than family and community... good or evil, right or wrong, in good times or bad, without a group to lean on and depend upon, a child was lost in this cruel and unforgiving world.
The Mother felt something within her stir... it seemed it was time for her first TRUE birthing. "Mother and Child, I must leave you for a time... I have business to which I must attend to. Just remember my lesson, and that your Mother loves you, and you will do just fine in this world." The Mother 'smiled' at the Ordek once more. "I suggest you go forth and meet some of the other Mothers that abound here... they will doubtless have things to teach you and show you as well. But if you need me, simply call, and I will be there to assist you my Child."
With that, the Mother got up off of her haunches, and scuttled off into the darkness of the Hive... she'd need a large and sutiable chamber if she were to lay her eggs.
There was only ocean. Nothing but endless black waters... this would not do. How could there be violence without land to fight over? He could not imagine any possible reason a species would fight over an ocean... there needed to be at least a little land, territory to fight over.
Thus, using most of his remaining energy, he created islands. Thousands of them... all of them swampy, some large, some small. These islands stretched across the world, making it impossible to stand anywhere without seeing at least two other islands on the horizon. Content, Ordek went forth to inspect his work
4 PP Mold Land (greater) Create a massive archipelago that covers the entire world. Though mostly water, Culthet now has a sizeable land area.
[1 PP Remaining]
Itja-Rek had felt this god work before when those rock-men things had been created. The thought that he had had an entire other GOD in his head for such a long time was... well, scary. Hopefully the thing hadn't left some parting gifts.
"I have felt you before, Hulna. Tell me, where did you come from, and how did you get inside my head?"
Ah, this would do perfectly... a nice, open chamber, with a tunnel that was completely submerged leading from it. She could feel the nature of the Children within her, and as odd as it seemed for an insect, they would love the water. Did that mean the entire building of the Hive was a waste of time? No. It was full of other interesting things, and doubtless other Children could be laid and hatched here in good time. What was more, she had not known that the ocean was calm underneath the storm until after she had begun building it, and these Children would need land as well as sea to thrive.
Crawling over to the center of the cave, the Mother breathed deep, before beginning to lay her eggs. One after another, small eggs (for her at least) until they almost filled the room. And soon after that... the eggs began to hatch. The gooey outside being pierced from within by little insectoid hands and legs. And out from the eggs, came... things. They looked a little like triolbites in point of fact, except that they stood up on two legs. Well, several legs, their bodies going in an awkward seeming J shape so that their legs continued uninterrupted from bottom of the J (legs) to near the top of it (arms), the 'arm' legs being longer and capable of manipulating objects. Of course they possessed the trilobite shell, but it seemed to be hollow, or mostly hollow anyway... a home for the creature rather than a container for it's entire body. The place where the head would emerge from the shell normally was nothing but a black abyss, with a pair of antenna poking out and a pair of compound eyes being barely visible.
"Ah, my Children," the Mother crooned, watching affectionately as the creatures stumbles about on their stubby legs. "Welcome to the world."
3PP - Shape Paragon Populace (Trilobites) - The Mother lays and hatches the Trilobites, which take after their namesake. They are amphibious, living on both land and sea, though they do require air and usually sleep, nest, and breed on land, using the water primarily for hunting for food and escaping predation, as well as for recreation.
Itja-Rek chuckled.
"Offended me? You whisper thoughts in my ears and confuse me and you wonder why I am happy you are out of my brain? Come now, let us dispense with such needless wordplay. I should warn you that you are no longer on the world of your birth. This is Culthet, realm of wet shadows. Perhaps your horror proved successful in destroying your planet, which brought the Tomb through the Otherness and to here."
The God of Tombs paused for a moment, entertaining the thought of telling the god before him to attempt to return through the Otherness, which would only lead to his untimely death, but decided against it.
"You cannot return there through the Otherness. It will destroy you as it has destroyed all others who have tried."
That, he guessed, was a bit of a lie... he was unaware of others who had tried to pass through to the Beyond, but it was assuredly a one-way and very unsavory option.
Glancing at the thing he had removed, and glancing for a moment at his bitten hand, a smile lit his face. "Do you mind if I open that one and experiment as well?"
The odd looking other-egg sat perched atop the egg tree pulsating. After a few minutes it fell, smashing into a few branches before landing with a sickening THWAMP! The leathery shell burst open and it's inhabitant flew through the air before finally coming to rest before a group of Wood Waifs.
They stared in a mixture of shock and horror at the large slug thing, it's brown hide glistening with mucous. One of them poked at it's body with a wooden finger and it shuddered, emitting a cloud of pleasant smelling spores from the violet sacs that dotted it's body. Almost instantly the Waifs expressions changed from fear and disgust to one of joy and love. With large grins and peals of contented laughter they lifted the beast and carried it into a cave in a nearby grove. The beast sat in the cool dark cave and released another puff of spores. The waifs all nodded and pranced about gaily, gathering their brethren.
Before long there were almost twenty waifs amassed in the grove, all smiles and contentedness. Some were weaving grasses and flowers together making pretty gifts for their beloved Lord Siliis, while others were traveling about bringing whomever they could find. Waifs, mantids, dobbits and orionids were gathered in the grove. One waif even went and picked up the tentacled thingy that had fallen near the tree, placing it in the pond in the grove where it swam and flitted glowing hypnotically. The orionids even ceased eating the dobbits here in this peaceful place, such was the atmosphere secreted by the slug being.
--
It was not long before a diverse cadre of followers happened upon Caltabactos and Sonnet, the bravest of them attempting to get Sonnet's attention.
Another group found The Monarch, who was still escorting King Dobbit around and gave them both floral wreaths, signaling them to follow their group.
A third group traveled even farther, towards a place where the earth danced through the sky. Even the people who lived here should meet beloved Lord Siliis.
"You must have missed it the first time around. My name is Itja-Rek. What is yours?"
Itja-Rek smiled at the new god's request, but shook his head.
"Now now, we've had enough bashing in of heads for one day in this particular tomb, which is, as I believe I told you earlier, my home. Lets not trash it any further than is strictly necessary. Perhaps in a moment we could all retire to the surface and meet some of the other Lords of this realm." The God of Tombs glanced sidelong at the new god. "I think you'd find Davos to be particularly interesting."
Shrugging slightly he nods. "Possibly. I was far more interested in the workings going on in your head. I'd hope they were similar to my own. But apparently not. I don't think I have souls in there. And I'm relatively positive I don't have another one of us hiding in there. But then, there could be. Maybe you should smash my head open and find out? Nah, I suppose you wouldn't do that. You did just say no head bashing. Is anyone else bother by all this water? It's getting my hat and coat wet, which is quite annoying. Davos? Hm, wonder why you think I'd find it to be interesting? What makes you think that? This little incomplete ball of water has lords? But then, retiring to the surface does sound like an excellent idea. I think I'll see just what I can do on this little shard of a world. Stretch my powers, so to speak."
Stamping on the wet mud beneath him, he shouted. "You heard the god. He said we should retire to the surface. SO rise. Yes, you heard me, rise. Get us out of all this blasted water."
With an echoing crack, the entire mountain shuddered, then, creaking and groaning as it went, rose from the depths of the sea, sending water flowing off in great waterfalls as it rose above the surface of the ocean, then continued to rise, rising above even the perpetual overcast of the sky.
Murmuring to himself, he frowned. "Hm, guess I put a bit too much effort into it."
6/7 remaining
"What. Did. You. Do." Itja-Rek said, clenching his hands and glaring at the new god as the water began draining from the room. He shoved the other god into a wall as he strode past to the entry tunnel and eventually outdoors, shielding his face from the huge red sun that dominated much of the sky. He shrunk back into the darkness and made his way back to the chamber.
"Who do you think you are to move MY Tomb like that? GET OUT. I will not repeat myself again. You are rude and impulsive and are no longer welcome here, not that you were ever all that welcome in the first place. I expect you to be gone by the time I return. And if I see a SINGLE thing changed..."
Itja-Rek trailed off and stalked out of the chamber, leaping from the tunnel and down through the clouds to the waters below, eventually surfacing near The Hive.
"Mother, Davos, Karak. Are any of you around? We must talk. We have an interloper in our midst." he called out into the tunnels, settling himself on an entrance to the Hive to wait for a response
Letting himself fall right through the wall as he was pushed, the god heard none of the conversation directed at him as he allowed himself to free fall, highly amused by the whole situation. Once he exited the bottom of the island, he pulled up short and looked out at the sun. "Hm, pretty light, all red and everything."
Spotting Itja-rek headed down nearby, he followed, chatting merrily. "Well, you did want us to surface. I certainly didn't expect that sort of robust reaction from the stones in this place though. Quite fun, really. Something I'll have to try again in the future. Though, I suppose you aren't happy about your place being up here now, which would explain the push through the wall and everything. If you'd like, I could certainly push it off of my island, though, I suppose the impact with the ocean would probably break it into dozens of little pieces, so you might not like that, but I'm more than willing to try if you'd like. So, where are we headed, anyways? And who are these Mother, Davos, and Karak you keep talking about anyways? And who is the interloper? Is it that black thin I pulled out of your head that you wouldn't let me smash open and experiment with?"
"What-but-I... wha?" Itja-Rek nearly jumped out of his skin (something he figured might be literally possible given his condition) when the new god, who still had not revealed his name, appeared beside him as he dove. How had it caught up with him when...
Oh.
Itja-Rek had apparently just shouted angry curses and threats into an empty room, it would appear. Great. That would do well for his repuation as an insane god. Putting on as good a face as he could muster, he turned to his... companion.
"Oh, Hello. No, I'll deal with all of that later, but think about asking permission before messing with other people's things next time. For now, I am off to meet with the other gods about... yes. About the thing that was mucking about inside my head. We should arrive shortly."
And so they did, and Itja-Rek summoned forth the other Gods of Culthet.
"Ask permission? Ask for permission about what. It's not like I was trying to move your mountain up into the clouds or anything. You said we needed to surface, so I told the stones to take us up. I could hardly be expected to anticipate that the droll water logged stones on this wretched little half world could have enough energy in them to take us up into the clouds. Not to mention taking your mountain and tomb like structure up there with us. Of course, I do with that the other guy had stayed behind. ANyways, who are these other gods. And what are they like. TDO you think they might need me to tinker around with them and see if anything is wrong as well? Because it would be fun to get a look inside of another gods head. For comparison purposes, you know. To see just how similar we all are on the inside. I've gt a theory that once you get past the irritating domain reflective outer shell, we are all made of the same sort of stuff and look relatively the same. But I've never been able to get anyone else to help me confirm or disprove that theory. So it just sort of sits there in my mind irritating me. In fact, I think you are the first god I've ever had the opportunity to look inside of. Quite an unusual experience, and one I definitely want to thank you for."
For a second he stopped, straightening his hat and scratching his chin. "Weren't we just talking about permission for something?"
Cuthlet
The Mother rose her sleepy head at the summons... the Itja-Rek certainly chose a poor time to need her, birth wasn't easy you know even when it was laying eggs. Still, she owed her so much for this Hive, and some of the creatures within it... she couldn't ignore her summons. Besides, she could rest later... as a Mother, her energy was practically boundless after all.
Though she loathed to leave her children so soon, the Mother hauled herself up onto her legs, beginning to scuttle off towards the Itja-Rek so she could do... whatever she wanted the Mother for. But as she left, a few of her children sort of cried out, not wanting to be apart... hm, well the Itja-Rek would most likely find her children interesting, and there was no harm in showing them the other Mothers...
Scooping up some of her children in her mouth, the Mother carried them as she scuttled towards the Itja-Rek.
Once she arrived, the Mother plopped down her children gently, before looking at the Itja-Rek and the... hm, who was this mother? She looked very strange indeed! And she kept adjusting her head for some reason... maybe it was sore?
"I am here, the Itja-Rek," the Mother greeted. "What did you need my help for?" She decided to ignore the other mother for now, introductions could come later.
Watching the approach of the new arrival, he dashed in front of Itja-Rek, eager to begin asking questions o this most unusual being. "Oh, wow, you are one big bug, aren't you? I can't say I've ever seen an insect quite like you anywhere I've ever been. Exceptional, yes, quite exceptional. I wonder it you splat when I swat you."
Swatting his hand harmlessly against The Mother, he frowned. "Guess not. Must be something to do with your size. Indeed, if I may ask, how did you get quite so big. I've never encountered such a large insect before. Most unusual, indeed, most unusual. Are these your children over here> What are they? How do they function? Do they splat if I swat them?" Reaching out, he freezes. "Hm, that doesn't seem like such a good idea right now."
Turning back to The Mother, he continued. "Do you know my friend here? He was the first person on this half-world I met, after he jerked me out of the non-being. Hm, the non-being is quite a unique experience, if a bit on the cold, hostile, and full of dangerous monstrosities from beyond existence kind of place. But yeah, after I met him, I bashed his head open, pulled out another something, and he said he was here to talk to you about that other something. Then I yelled at the stones to bring us to the surface so we could speak to you, I suppose, but instead the whole mountain rose up above the clouds."
Glancing back at Itja-Rek, he frowned. "What was your name again?"
This mother was unusual, and talked too much... the Mother wasn't sure she liked being called a big bug, or being swatted. And she DEFINITELY didn't like it when she was about to swat her children, a primal growl rising in her throat as she so much as raised a hand at them. Well, seemss he had SOME measure of sense anyway... if she'd swatted her children, she'd likely have torn her apart and consumed her vital organs.
"I do indeed know the Itja-Rek," the Mother replied. "He has helped me greatly, and been a good friend to me and my children. As for why I am so... large-" Seriously, who called a lady big? It was just plain rude! "I was born this way... it is natural for my kind, I suppose you could say. And these are indeed my children... and if you ever even ATTEMPT to swat them or the like again, I'll disembowel you and consume your insides, before throwing your empty husk on a fire before it's fully cooked and feeding it to all the insects in this Hive."
This mother was confusing and exasperating... but she couldn't judge them too harshly, so long as they avoided harming her children. Cultural differences often made someone seem awfully rude when they were being polite in accordance to their own hives rules, after all.
He had just pulled himself through a wall after a splat when he felt the call. He splatted through several walls, and a couple new creatures that he wasn't able to identify in the period of time he was near them (being less time than just about anything, incuding him could measure).
He popped out infront of Itja, who apparently had called him. The Mother was there as well, in addition to someone that he hadn't seen before.
"The Mother! So nice to see you, and what I presume are your children are doing fine, although the 3 or 10 I hit through aren't in as good condition."
He turned to Itja.
"Itja! So nice to see you again! How is yourself going?"
Reaching up and straightening his hat once more, he started drawing his finger across the air in front of him, each movement leaving a slight blue light behind as he scratched and scribbled away on some sort of odd math equation that made no sense to anyone looking at it. Every few moments he'd go back and erase a line or alter a symbol. After several moments, he straightened his jacket, stood back, and glared at the whole equation with a hateful glare in his eye. "UNACCEPTABLE! THIS WHOLE THING IS A WASTE OF MY TIME!!!"
With a furious cry, he swung his hand across the whole thing, letting the lights flicker out. TUrning back, he straightened his hat, which had fallen over his eyes, and looked around. "What is everybody looking at?"
"Corruption? Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe I'm just good at being not what I actually am, even though that is what I am."
He turned and moved next to Itja, almost hiding behind him.
"Itja, who is this, and why is he so not really fun? Why is this mold important, and why does he make pretty lights?"
"Well, this is... You know, I can't get him to stop talking long enough to tell me his name. He was nice enough to fix a certain issue I was having... did you know I had another god stuck in my head? Well, he fixed that... and ever since then he's been nothing but trouble. He took my Tomb and threw it up there!" he said, stabbing a finger towards the sky where Wepet now stood.
"The mr. spirit here said we needed to surface, so I commanded the rocks to rise, and they did. But they dragged the whole mountain and tomb with them, setting them up high above the clouds. Then the black thing called itself Hulna something or another, then we came here."
"Come to think of it, why won't anybody answer my questions?"
Karak stared in a slightly sullen manner at this person.
"Tomb-Mover, maybe my essence is to be something that it is not. And that is what I am. Maybe. You can't really tell, can you? You have to rely on the way things appear" and at this point his essence turned a bright yellow-pink "and that isn't at all helpful at most times." It changed back to normal. "So give me more pretty lights, and then I might start liking you."
He moved back, keeping away from the conversation, but still listening in.
Cocking his head to the side, he almost lost his hat, which he caught and straightened on his head. "What pretty lights? I don't make pretty lights. Maybe you can. Would you? "
Davos merged it for a moment, absorbing all its thoughts and memories, then sent it towards the Gods drifting amongst the storms above. As it exited the Hive, massive leathery wings burst from the creature's back and it flapped heavily off.
Soon it arrived before Itja-Rek, Karak, The Mother and the newcomer. A hulking thing, this manifestation of Davos was, bulging muscle, dripping slime and seawater.
I am of Davos, The Worm. Itja-Rek, who is this creature that spouts inanity? Compel him to speak.
Mother, your newest brood is quite fascinating, perhaps I ought to create some rather like them...
"Here. Knock yourself out." Itja-Rek said, throwing a ball of energy before Tomb-Mover. It hovered for a moment and then darted towards the Hive door, bobbing up and down enticingly. As it crossed the threshold, Itja-Rek noticed for the first time that there was another god among them, looking quite similar to the creatures he had just made. He moved on over to the younger deity.
"Hello. I'm Itja-Rek, and I don't think we've had a chance to meet. Who are you?"
It was at that moment that Davos appeared above the waves. Itja-Rek raised one hand in a greeting, and shouted across the distance.
"We're calling him Tomb-Mover for now... we can't get him to shut up long enough to tell us his actual name."
1 PP: Spawn Creature (heroic): Will'o'the'wisps live in the Hive.
"My, spirit man, those are some fancy pretty lights. That reminds me, what is your name, anyways. And do you know this giant insect? What about the huge worm or the ball of corruption. Or this ball of light over here. Do you know them? Do they know you? Because I'm starting to suspect that they do and so do you."
"Ah, so you are Her spawn. I was wondering what she was working on in her swamp. It is good to meet you, Ordek. What do you think of our most recent addition to our number?"
Cuthlet
The Mother couldn't help but beam a little in pride at Ordeks introduction. "Yes, the Ordek is a fast learner, and a strong creator for their young age," she said happily. After a while, the Mother had decided to simply completely ignore the talkative mother... it was far too difficult to keep up with, and didn't seem to have any bearing on... well, anything.
Hm, seems the poor children she'd brought with her were a little overwhelmed... especially at the Davos, they seemed very afraid of her for some reason. Well, they were knew born children, the whole world was scary and new. "I thank you the Davos for your compliment," the Mother replied happily, preening her antenna. "By all means birth similar children if you wish to. The world is a hive we can all share, and children need companions to live and play with if they wish to grow and evolve instead of merely remaining the same for all eternity."
Spinning back to Itja-Rek, "What was your name again, anyways? So you didn't know this guy. ANd he didn't know you? I though he did. Or you did. One of the two. What swamp? I don't see any swamp, just lots and lots of ocean and clouds. Though, I suppose one might make an argument for the bottom of the ocean being pretty swampy, but I don't think that really counts as a typical description of a swamp. And I don't think much of anything about any recent additions to our numbers. Unless you mean that hulna-whatchamacllit. He bit me. Quite painful really, and I was just trying to help and all. "
Cuthlet
The Mother liked to think of herself as a patient and merciful mother... but this new mother had worn her patience right down.
"Can I PLEASE eat the Doesn't Shut Up or something to make them stop talking?" the Mother asked imploringly, covering her hearing holes as well as she could with her lower leg segments.
the god of Tombs concentrated and felt his souls sloughing off his form, forming a sphere around him, Ordek and the Mother. After a few moments, the ramblings of Tomb-Mover was reduced and eventually eliminated, masked by the carefully modulated sounds of his souls as they travelled around and through one another, hiding what was within from that which was without.
Within the sphere, the Mother and Ordek saw the underlying 'skeleton' of Itja-Rek, thin black rods of Otherness that pulsated softly in time with the movement of his souls capped with an off-white clump of souls that cradled his brain and made up his face.
"Finally. I can hear myself think" he said, gesturing to the walls around them. "I'm nearing my wits end. That thing is following me like a shadow-eater jelly follows a light source. What shall we do?"
Glancing down, he saw for the first time one of The Mother's creatures.
"Is that yours? It is very impressive. Can it... understand me?"
The Trilobite cowered and tried to hide behind its creator.
Ordek thought for a moment... he had no ideas as to how to deal with the thing other than avoiding it but... he got an idea.
How about we just destroy it?
Frowning in irritation, he threw himself against the sphere, bouncing off harmlessly. "Well, this is no fun."
Straightening his bowler once more, he began writing in the air once more, his fingers tracing endless arcane and gibberish symbols into the air, leaving faint silver lights behind as he tried to puzzle out how to get into the sphere. After several long moments, he screamed as he batted the light aside.
Straightening his hat once more, he looked about, spotting The M\other's children. "Maybe I'll take a look at them. I'm bored . . . "
Cuthlet
Hm, the Itja-Rek seemed to have misplaced their exoskeleton... oh well, the Mother hoped they found it soon.
"I could eat him, like I suggested," the Mother proposed. "But from what I gather he'd likely continue to talk even while within my stomach... and that does not sound like a pleasant experience."
The Mother beamed... she liked it when others complimented her children. "But of course they can, they're true children, and not mere animals, or powerful enough to be mothers. Come on babies, this is the Itja-Rek, he won't hurt you."
Hesitantly, the Trilobites scuttled out from behind their mother, looking at the Itja-Rek curiously. "Hello," one finally managed to the courage to telepathically communicate. "It's nice to meet you, the Itja-Rek... any friend of our Mother is a friend of the Trilobites."
"Tempting... although it is still charged with the energy of Otherness from when I dragged it out, which would make that a rather... difficult challenge. If you all will help me, though... I feel that is certainly something to consider."
Ordek thought for a moment again, and came up with another suggestion.
We could all work together and imprison it. Chain it underwater, or something like that. Anything to shut it up!
Meanwhile, he turned to the Mother and asked, They are... interesting. I think I create something similar to exist on the islands I recently created.
Cuthlet
"The Won't Shut Up is indeed a nuisance... though perhaps I was too rash in suggesting I eat them," the Mother admitted reluctantly. "Maybe if we simply sat it down, and explained that it should talk less, it might be a little nicer to be around? Or we could punish it somehow, take away the part of it's head that it keeps fiddling with and not give it back to it until it plays nice or something."
Working away at a fevered pace, he didn't notice as his hat fell off and vanished into the ocean. He fell completely silent, so absorbed was he in his work, hammering and smelting away at things that simply appeared in the air around him, always in just the right place at just the right time. Working away, he forgot his confusion about being here, he remembered Itja-Rek's name, not that it mattered, and he even ceased to care about being left behind. He was no longer bored, and he was content.
After a while though, his work was cone and he sat there looking at his completed work, wondering what would happen when he activated it. "Well, no way to find out with doing it." Waving his hand with a hurried look, he nodded" Well, don't just stand their. Activate!"
Shuddering, the metallic creatures shuddered and shook, slowly coming to life. Vaguely insectile, with strange wings that rotated in an odd fashion, the skimmers roared to life. Within moments, they were buzzing in the air around him, hunting down and devouring any organic material they could lay their talons on., And their stingers, long poisoned affairs, were even able to peirce the hard shells of the trilobites.
4/6 remaining
"Now THAT I could agree with. Point me in the direction of the nearest chains!" the God of Tombs laughed. "I know for a fact that the thing hates the water."
Itja-Rek looked down at the Trilobite.
"Are you speaking in my head, little one? That is very talented. I think we're going to get to know one another quite well in the coming days."
the god reached down and patted the thing on its carapace, making sure as to be very careful to not harm it and risk the anger of the Mother.
Steal it. A voice said in his head, joined by another and another, all chanting in a singsong chorus to take the Trilobite and run. Itja-Rek shook his head and the voices stopped.
"
Cuthlet
The trilobites didn't take it all laying down. Though the skimmers were dangerous indeed, they had talents of their own. Many a skimmer would be smashed to pieces by the Trilobites throwing rocks, even if many a Trilobite would be taken unawares by the creatures and processed for the creation of more skimmers.
Thankfully, the Trilobites always had the ocean as a safe haven, and usually only had a chamber or two to protect... but woe be a Trilobite foolish enough to stumble around the Hive alone!
****
The Mother 'smiled' happily. It seemed her child and the Itja-Rek were getting on fabulously! She was glad... she'd been afraid the Trilobites might come to rely on her too much, and distrust the other Mothers.
"Why thank you, all our race possess such talent," the Trilobite replied, twitching it's arms contently. "It allows us to speak over distances, and while we feed underwater... and avoids the difficulty we have with spoken languages. Our mouths and shells, gifts from the Mother, might be well suited for feeding and protection, but are not very well suited for speech."
So we are all in agreement? We should chain the... thing... to some forgotten rock under the ocean until he agrees to behave?
Ordek then changed the subject and said.
Of course, before we do that, there is something I'd like to show you both, something I'm confident you'd be interested in...
After leading Itja-Rek and the Mother outside of the Hive, he revealed his creation. The entire exterior of Culthet had previously been covered in nothing but water- and now one could see the many, many islands created by Ordek. Proudly, he said, I made these islands. They stretch across the entire world. I figured an empty, landless world would be boring, so I added in the islands. You can't go anywhere now without seeing at least one.
Before Calabactos had a chance to answer Sonnet, The God's attention was caught by a passing wood waif. It walked about in a bit of a daze, a stupid sing-songy smile plastered to its face. Were those... flowers braided into its leafy hair? Sonnet snorted, and prepared to pay it no more mind, but its little twiggy digits grabbed the god by his pinky (for that was all it could reach) and tugged. It smiled glazedly at the god, chirped once, and tugged at his hand again. Then it pointed off into the distance, and pulled against his mass once more.
Sonnet sighed, and drove his lute over the poor creature's head, breaking the cold-iron chains that bound it. Instantly it became a tree again, and Lord Sonnet wasted no time in uprooting, mashing, and rending the tree into a large, pulpy mass which he rolled in his palms. He looked up at Caltabactos and shrugged about his actions. "What? It was handy."
He gazed off into the distance, where the waif had been pointing. He breathed in deeply. "Hm. The wind carries with it the scent of something... else..
Sonnet rotated in his seat to scour the surrounding area. The Egg Tree was both wet and devoid of life once more. "I wonder what godsforsaken hellspawn that... thing birthed this time. Maybe that is what I smell."
"And they're all swamps, too, thanks to all this rain. I fail to see why people feel that we must have dry land in order to have interesting things happen on this world. Underwater is an entire planet's worth of places to explore and fill, why add to it with this 'land' nonsense?"
Think of it this way. Violence is the most wonderful thing in the entire world, in my personal opinion. From what I have witnessed, violence is fun and enjoyable. With water, you can only have so much violence. With land, you can only have so much violence. Now imagine them both- imagine the chaos of a sea and land confrontation, one side fighting from the land, one from the sea. Besides, the world is still mostly water.
Caltabactos went through his logic once more to make sure it made sense. When he was satisfied, he turned back to Sonnet with a big grin on him face, "Hey! Let's meet whatever thing the tree made. I was made by the tree, so it must be a thing that's really great! Things! I love things!"
Without waiting for a reply, Caltabactos excitedly ran off toward the direction that the wood waif pointed.
This unusual underwater agility, combined with their flight above the surface, quickly led to many trilobite deaths
-----
As the soul dissolved, the found their little nuisance too busy watching skimmers kill, feed, and reproduce to really bother them. Surprisingly enough, he said nothing and remained completely quiet.
After a few seconds of fast walking the waif stopped abruptly. Before them was a massive hole, the sides coated with translucent slime. The waif twitched a minute while a pleasant wind washed over them and then looked up toward Caltabactos, speaking in a raspy masculine voice.
"Greet. I am the who of the egg from. My called is a Siliis but for the quick I can be Sil. And being the you of what to label?"
"Order your coming words wrong in are. I'm Caltabactos, but you can call me Caltabactosobragashnitch for short. Um... I think I'm from the same tree! What are you doing here?"
"Gathering from you brother information. The lands strange, the creatures, and others... Forgive me spores covered you. Cause me to tap your head. Read experience with those. Learning."
As the tormented winged God kneeled upon the floor of his workshop, wine dripping from his face where blood had, mere moments before, flowed, another being suddenly threw open the doorway. This being was anthropoid as well; however the sunlight from behind the door silhouetted the being hiding its more detailed features.
The God of Beauty shifted towards the doorway at the entrance of the newcomer and attempted to find an answer to its quarry, however rather unexpectedly Djaf burst into a robust, mirth filled laughter that shook the walls of the workshop. Turning back to the original occupant of this place, the Masked God merely tilted the Masquerade to the side in an expression of puzzlement before its smiled once again reappeared.
Then Djaf launched forward and grabbed the insubstantial Deity rather unexpectedly and held him to himself. The God of Beauty squirmed uncomfortably for a moment, attempting to free itself from the other Gods grasp, however the hold remained and Djaf continued to shake and roar with laughter. The Masked God detected no malevolence in the laugh and the grasp, and when it stopped resisting and thought for a moment it realized that this was called a hug.
Djaf then planted his lips firmly on the forehead of the Masquerade in what appeared to be a term of endearment. Perplexed at this, and all the winged Gods actions, the God of Beauty finally decided to just join in. Booming, reverberating multilayered laughter composed of dozens of voices chuckling in sequence.
Turning back and forth between the two Deities, the God of Beauties rather ominous laugh soon came to drown out Djaf's. But when the newcomer began to speak the booming from the Masquerade abruptly cut off.
"I am...." began the God of Beauty, trying to recall what it had discovered not so long ago in garden of the triskellion. "I am called Absalom....." finally stated the God. It was his name, but to be honest it felt strange on its tongue (metaphorically speaking). The name did not seem to fit the ethereal cloud with the alabaster face, neither in temperament nor physique. However Absalom was certain that this was to be his name, perhaps it was describing more of what he would become than what he already was?
"You are?" inquired Absalom after a moment of contemplation.
"Only so much violence? Remind me to show you the Leviathan at some point and you may change your tune. But very well, I acknowledge your point. Perhaps we could create some True Children that can live in both worlds?"
I'm glad you see my point. And indeed, the world is in much need of more life... we might as well create something that can survive and even thrive on both land and sea.
The god absent-mindedly glanced around the surroundings, as he brushed the spores off. It was a bit dull, but then again, few people would expect an insect god to be concerned with interior design.
"You might want to, ah... decorate the place. It seems a bit unwelcoming. You don't want to discourage people from seeing you, right?" Caltabactos gave his signature grin, and started attempting to get rid of a somewhat large deposit of slime. All it did was get his hands messy.
"Many apologies from all places. I did not to want an offend. Spores degrade of time goes, no harm from results."
The waif pauses for a second and gestures around the cave. "Say you home is unwelcome feel. Self not the way of want. Do not others like to see self. Result is proxy. Creature for interact me but perhaps better. Improve by symbiosis. Be look."
The waif froze in place, her feet becoming like roots planting deep into the earth. They grew and grew further into the soil before the wooden child gasped loudly. She shivered and shook and began breathing erratically. Then she started growing. Before long she was standing face to face with Caltabactos, now a full-bodied woodperson. Her bark had become smoother and had taken a violet sheen and her leafy hair had become long vines covered with slightly luminescent flowers. Three waifs came into the cave bringing a robe, bangles, and a small crown woven out of grass and flowers and clothed her. Her gaze never left the god's eyes through all this. Finally she spoke in a voice completely different from the first, this one much lighter and pleasant.
"How is this, my lord? Does this new form please you? I think it is much more satisfactory than it originally was. I couldn't even think properly with such a limited mind. So what do you think?" The thing that used to be a wood waif twirled in place, showing off her new body. "Will the others like it?"
2/6 remaining
He followed them, and beheld the range of islands in the sea, which stretch to the limits of his vision.
He swooped down to the others.
"It looks great! I love this land!"
Cuthlet
As always, the Mother applauded the Ordeks actions... while being a little discerned by her motives. Still, she couldn't fault the Ordek for making this land, even if it would take a very strong child indeed to be able to live on the storm wracked surface of Cuthlet without some measure of protection like the Hive.
"That does indeed sound like a good idea," the Mother agreed. "My Trilobite Children do as such, and they seem quite happy and well suited to this watery world of ours... a race that is even more adept at bridging the divide between land and water would be even more capable of surviving in this harsh world. Though it would also have to be a strong race indeed to bare the brunt of this storm."
***
In regards to the Trilobites vs Skimmers debate, the ocean would still be somewhat of a sanctuary for the trilobites... as much as the skimmers could swim with ease, the trilobites were even faster and more agile in the water, making many a skimmer easily destroyed in underwater combat. Though even so... they suffered too many losses. Especially considering their low gestation rate.
He then turned to the newcomer and said, Thank you for the compliment... I made it all myself. However, I don't believe I know you...
He swooped around, exploring Ordek's body.
"What is this that I hear about creating a race?"
Two massive wings thudded in the air beside Ordek, generating a downdraft strong enough to disrupt the white-capped waves below.
I could not help but overhear your conversation. We ought to all contribute to the project, and create a new race. I know Karak's talents well, we've collaborated before, but not yours, Ordek.
--------------------
In the core of Culthet, the seventh Cavern of Davos, The Worm's true form, its girth colossal, slithered across the floor. The cave truly reached enormous proportions, the roof, dripping precious metals, vanished into the darkness above, even as Davos himself emitted a pale luminescence. Jealously, The Worm considered the outside world, the world beyond this core of rock that bound his form and mind. Some small fragment of it might leave, such as that which conversed with Ordek ten thousand miles above him, but the majority stifled beneath the mantle of stone.
Decades, centuries even, had been consumed by thoughts like these, occurring in truth ever since the appearance of Itja-Rek. Davos simply did not know what occurred on the world above, he must some understanding, some knowledge of events. Calming slightly now, the god pondered the problem, and at last hit upon a solution.
The solution would take time, and would not be completed for centuries, but after all, Davos possessed more time than anything else. To begin, however, he needed to know what he sought to record, so that the vagaries of the mind, even the mind of a god, would not affect the record. He might not stand tall amongst the gods above, yet their every word, gesture, action and that of their offspring would trickle down through the earth, and manifest itself before Davos.
Summoning power, the raw stuff of divinity, essence of the cosmos, The Worm blasted it upwards, racing through untold miles of earth, water and air. He attached threads of it to every falling raindrop and to every living thing on Culthet. All the knew, thought, or experienced would channel down through those threads to gather in this Cavern.
Stretching into the body of Culthet itself, Davos found veins of silver, never touched by mortal hands in this age or any other, and dragged them forth. Pouring down one wall in a molten wave, the silver suddenly flash-froze, solidifying into a single flawless, burnished sheet of perfectly reflective metal. There, the Sybilline Dream as it came to be called, Davos embedded the ending of every thread.
A million lines of pure darkness spread across the surface of the Dream, separating it into squares of burnished silver. In each square, the events of the person or place the thread was attached to were recorded minutely. Some squares quickly covered with verdigris and fell from the Dream, the content of their thread coming to an end. A dead Trilobite infant there, a crushed centipede here. In each empty square, a blob of molten silver quickly squeezed in to fill the space.
Thus it came to be that Davos, The Worm and The Aristocrat, came to know of the storm battered lands above.
PP
4PP-Create Artifact: Sybilline Dream (Arbitration)
He sank into deep thought for a moment, and then perked up.
"Snakies!"
He pulled power out of himself and formed it into a long snaky form. The tail ended with a very sharp point, and the other end had a rudimentery mouth, filled with sharp teeth, and eyes that glistened. About a third of the way down from the head was a small pair of arms, prehensile, but fairly small for its size.
"Done!"
-1 PP: 1/3 Shape Populace: First PP for these naga like creatures.
He then turned to the new snake creatures and, contributing his power, made them bigger, and their arms grew much more to scale with the body.
PP
-1 PP Shape Populace: Another contribution to making the naga.
[0/6 PP]
Sonnet had already put Caltabactos out of his mind by the time the nascent godling had run off. He focused instead on the tree in his hands, now balled up and densely packed. Setting his instrument off to one side, he kneaded the tree like clay until it was long and supple within his hands. Finally, he separated the tree into thirds, sculpting the individual lumps into meaningful shapes. A set of ears here, a pair of eyes here, two shapely mounds over yonder -- the god did his best to keep them as identical as possible, but in this Sonnet failed, his sculptures gradually becoming more and more distinct, until they began to take on a life of their own.
Sonnet nodded once, gruffly, at the three still creatures, picked up his lute, and once more began to play. The storm-bringer's music washed over the beings, and finally, they opened their eyes and sat up. They stretched, straightened the elegant robes clothing them, and peered at their Lord with eager eyes.
"Lyn of Autumn -- thou art bound to me and mine. You are to act as my eyes, arms, and will in the long early times, when Syreene reigns and my influence is nulled. Go now, I dub thee Wind, Moon, and Leaf. Get ye hence!"
The three sisters vanished in swirls of auburn hair, and were gone . Sonnet picked himself up and sighed. On to other things then.
------------
Sonnet approached a cave, hearing the voice of Caltabactos and... another inside. The god entered. He looked around. "That's an interesting...specimen of an insect you've found, here, Caltabactos."
-4PP Ascend Exarch -- Lyn of Autumn (Genesis)
0/6
Itja-Rek looked down at the snake-things as they writhed back and forth on the ground, hissing at one another as the stronger ones reached out with their burly arms and strangled some of the weaker ones before feasting on their flesh. Not a glimmer of intelligence appeared in their eyes, only the savagery imparted to them by Ordek. They had to be given thought and purpose beyond just killing.
Floating into the center of the snakes, Itja-Rek reached his arms out towards them. Starting at his feet, he began collecting some souls, dragging them up in a wave up his torso and down both of his arms. At the last moment, the souls realized what was going to happen to them and a wail of anguish and fear arose from them, loud enough for the other gods to hear as the souls slipped off of his fingers and dripped into the Naga, one soul to each being. After a few long moments, it was done, and the Nagas reared up on their tails and began to sway back and forth before their creators, chanting sibilant prayers of awe.
"I think that works well enough." Itja-Rek chuckled, looking at the assembled gods before turning his gaze back on their creations, feeling the warmth of their prayers washing over him. It was an odd but very pleasant feeling.
1 PP: Shape Populace: Nagas are born and live on and under one of the islands of the archipelago. ((Note: We should Name it)
Cuthlet
The Mother 'frowned' (ie. sent out a slightly disapproving smelling pheromone) somewhat at these new... things. "Don't you think they are a little too... what's the word... uncarapaced?" The Mother didn't really approve of creatures that weren't like her own children... she didn't HATE them per say, but she'd much prefer it if everyone just made segmented, antennaed creatures with numerous legs. Then again, it wasn't really her place to say anything against them, and they seemed nice enough despite their obvious physical flaws. "Oh well, I'm sure they'll do just fine," she amended.
Although... "Hm, did we not make these creatures to be both good on land and sea? Yet there is little incentive for them to be on land, with nothing but empty swamp for them to play in. They need some kind of incentive, like something tasty or... hmmm, actually, I think that might just do the trick."
Walking over to a particularly muddy section of swamp, the Mother then pierced part of her carapace with a leg segment, before pulling it to form a cut from which poured out a plethora of small crabs. Some of these swelled in size as they hit the mud, ranging from 'regular' sized craps, to ones the size of halflings, to others that would put a horse to shame.
"There," she said simply and happily, the cut in her side closing quickly and finishing healing just as fast. "These 'mud crabs' are a tasty delicacy, if a little hard to eat when they get big... your children will love them I'm sure!"
1PP - Spawn Heroic Tier Creature (Mud Crabs) - The Mother spawns Mud Crabs, which are tasty crabs that dwell primarily in the mud of the swamp islands. Most are simple crabs, but at various stages of their development they can become giant crabs, or even more impressive, beat of burden sized siege crabs. Ironically, the bigger the crab, the sweeter the meat, though it's certainly hard to pin a siege crab down!
[No PPs left! 
]
Allowing the two gods to converse with eachother, Caltabactos turned around and looked at the cave some more. Little insects were scurrying across the ground with their little insect legs. He kneeled down, and put his oddly-shaped hand on the ground. A spider walked up on it, and Caltabactos talked to it, "Don't worry, little guy, this won't hurt a bit..."
Red tendrils of energy rose up from his palm, and were absorbed into the spider. Caltabactos got up, and stepped back as the spider started to float with an aura of energy. The spider began twitching its legs in agony (despite being told it would not hurt), and eventually slowly floated back to the stone ground. When the spider hit the ground, it was much larger, and had a red coloring. Its many eyes glowed an eerie violet color.
"Better than ever!"
1PP - Spawn Creature - Paraspider - A large spider (relatively, it measure around 4 feet across, 2 feet tall) that can inject its prey with a mental poison. Within a day of being poisoned, the victim is incapable of any thought, and goes into a comatose state. The paraspider uses this method to pick out its prey in advance. Any creatures poisoned by this spider glow red, marking them as unsafe to eat by anything other than a paraspider.
Turning to Itja-Rek, he said, How about we name it after us three that made the species... how about Ordarak-Rek?
"Works for me."
Karak grinned at Ordek.
"This creation thing is fun!"
Absalom sat for some time in the workshop after asking the stranger its name. The being had seemed on the verge of answering but Djaf's hysterical laughing had redoubled in itself and risen in volume, making conversation difficult. Both Gods realized this and cast sideways glances at the owner of this hut as he continued to laugh and laugh and laugh, finally falling onto his back where the winged deity continued to roll on the floor in mirth.
Perhaps there was more to that theory that life was mad after all, thought the God of Beauty.
After what seemed like a great deal of time (though given the lack of a natural cycle and the monotone cast of the sky, it was hard to really judge the passage of time) when it became apparent that the other God would not be stopping his almost insane laughter, the Masked Deity decided it needed to leave.
Floating towards the doorway and parting its form around the stranger, the God of Beauty came back out into the warmth of the bright sky and the wind flow through itself. Strangely, an almost salty tint was carried on this breeze, one which Absalom did not know what to make of. Turning back to the other Deities, the God of Beauty merely said "Work to do," before bursting skyward.
It only took a few moments of flight and barely any real ascension before the masked incorporeal God spotted its waltzing mountains far in the distance. He started to rush in their direction, keeping relatively close to the gently curving hills of the plane, just in case another storm arose on the God's way home. Before it even made it half way to the mountains though, Absalom came upon something completely unexpected.
The green hilly plains that had for so long constituted Mishway suddenly came to an end and before the God extended an expanse of deep blue water that stretched for leagues, all the way towards the Waltzing Mountains. The breeze blew stronger here and it seemed to be laden with moisture and a stills stronger hint of salt.
Absalom decided to investigate this blue expanse, and plunged towards the great body of water. Splashing into the ocean, the God cut through the tepid waters like a knife. The liquid was salty and lukewarm, stretching down to great depths where light barely reached and the pressure upon Absalom’s body was monumental. However, most surprising of all was that life seemed to thrive within the depths of this sea. Strange scaly creatures swam through the depths and seemed to breathe the water, whilst quadruped creatures with leathery skin and hard shells hunted and devoured them.
Making a mental note to further explore the depths of the sea, Absalom departed from the waters with the intent of working there in the future, but at the moment other projects called. Zipping through the clouds toward his mountains, the God passed over the now familiar hills of the Triskellion and the jagged peaks whose creation had so terrified the God earlier. Strangely, at the base of the three-tiered hill now rose a single thing column high into the sky, almost level with Masked God as he flew towards the Waltzing Mountains.
Finally coming back into the midst of those great bodies of stone and earth that he had torn from the ground and thrust into the firmament seemingly so long ago, Absalom observed a change had taken place. It seemed that the great storm which had rent the sky and battered the God of Beauty, which had likely created the vast blue expanse of the ocean, had also filled in the crater left by the creation of these dancing peaks, forming a vast lake many dozens of leagues across. Interestingly, the choreographed paths the flying bodies took had not been altered by the storm, and one such mountain was floating along on the surface of the lake now as another neared. Soon they would twirl about each other in the water; likely creating a world pool realized the deity.
The Masquerade scrunched the proxy face together in contemplation, for the God considered what he should do with this new development. Perhaps he should remove the water and set things as they once were? Or maybe reset the paths the mountains took through the sky so that they would not touch the lake? Or perhaps one of the several hundred other options passing through the Deity’s head should be taken.
After some time passed in consideration for what should be done, Absalom came to a decision. Summoning forth a portion of the power he had invested into the Masquerade at its creation, the God took hold of the strands of water in the lake below and began to set about working. Taking time to plot out courses for them, the God created a shifting series of small rivers and streams that floated through the very sky, spiraling, looping, diverging, leveling off into floating lakes, and at seemingly random intervals sections of the water would lose whatever quality allowed them to defy gravity and plummet dozens or even hundreds of feet back to the earth in a shower before re-coalescing and drifting through the sky again. Thus an intricate tapestry of waterways that constantly organically recreated itself was created in the sky to accompany the floating mountains. Now the mountains came into contact with water on regular intervals separated by spans of several dozen hours rather than once in a very great while. This caused many crevices and caves to become deep pools that spread water throughout the mountains length width and breadth.
Next, the God of Beauty decided to solve the deficiency of color that plagued this place. In his short travels through the world, Absalom had seen the strikingly vibrant crimson’s of a Gods falling blood, the dancing pinks, whites, and purples of the flowers that flowed around the Triskellion, and the somber deep blue of the ocean, all of which he felt could improve upon the monotone brown composition of the Waltzing mountains.
So drawing forth still more divine power, Absalom began to drape his mountains in attire more befitting the creations of the God of Beauty. Vibrantly colored and strangely shaped plants began to spontaneously spring up all over the floating pinks. Trees of impossibly thin character whose bark was a deep blue-green, whose branches and trunk never measure more than three inches in diameter yet soared dozens of feet into the sky without braking, and whose leaves were several feet across and glowed a phosphorescent violet. Strange strikingly red plants of thin spiraling funnel like shape that could grow to be over 8 feet tall with a diameter at their peak of 3 feet whilst their base was only 3 inches sprang up under the glowing violet canopies.
Strange earthy yellow and green vines nearly a foot thick sprouted out of the earth in patches and rose and rose past the highest of the violet leafed trees until at their ends were dozens of translucent round bulbous growths that were nearly 10 feet in diameter and seemed to float in the skies, only tethered to the mountains by the long vines. Within the bulbs was clear water, and floating in the water were dozens if not hundreds of tiny little bulbs not a millimeter in diameter that individually gave off a slight yellow glow, but when gathered together inside the translucent orb caused it to shine with brilliant gold light. These orbs, the seeds of the plant would grow until they could no barely fit inside bulb and the light was almost as blinding as a little golden sun, at which point the mother bulb would burst like bubble and spill its golden children to float on the breeze and find homes of their own. The burst would be beautiful and striking, bearing a resemblance to lightning striking and exploding on the earth, and as this took place the vines that had tethered the mother bulb would fall to the ground of the mountain and decay, returning the nutrients back to the earth.
Below the phosphorescent canopy a short grass sprouted of deep green resembling that of the planes of Mishway far below sprang up and covered the floor. Short, fat, plump trees that would never be more than a 14 or 15 feet high but with fat bases and branches nearly 2 feet in diameter, with a long elliptical shaped blue leaf at the end of every branch popped out from the earth. A white edible Moss that glowed with an ethereal light grew upon the trunks of these trees, and oddly shaped fruits consisting of many fist sized pentagons, hexagons, and decahedrons meshed and mashed together with an entire spectrum of strange colors actively shifting and flowing under their surface. Jet black reeds several feet tall sprang up in patches and were topped with yellow flowers with orange spots that would bloom at the beginning of the day and then fall off and spiral through the wind at the end.
Dozens of other strange, fanciful, and beautiful plants sprouted forth on the mountains, creating a glorious rainforest of life and color that covered every inch of ever mountain. The glowing lights left soft traces in the air as the mountains travelled majestically reflected on the surface of the lake below. When they passed near or through the Sky Rivers and lakes, the water would refract and reflect and split as if in a prism creating a visual orchestra of color for any spectator.
A smile appeared on the face of Absalom’s Masquerade then, for he was pleased with the new garbs of his creation. They were colorful and beautiful, at times striking and at times soothing, a garden unrivalled in this world upon which other eyes would fall and weep. But they were not finished, for they needed inhabitants to dwell on them. So the God unleashed even more of his divine energy to create a plethora of creatures suited to living in this place.
There were eight legged arachnids with three thick segments nearly two feet long whose legs were as thin as needles but stronger than steel, their bodies covered in brown fur with white stripes, and they would create webs that glowed red (similar to some of the other plants fruits) that would draw prey. There was a gray millipede like creature that would tuck its legs into its body and curl into a ball to go rolling and throttling downhill before being lopped into the air, at which point it would unroll itself and un-tuck its legs to reveal a membrane orange membrane between their tips that allowed it to flap and sour through the sky. Chitinous brown worms over four feet long and less than an inch in diameter would be covered in dozens of little oval membrane wings. Slimy gray eels with canine faces floated through the air as if magically with complex scale sequences that would shift colors and glow to attract mates. Small bulbous squid like entities with long gardens of long tentacles with near microscopic hooks on the end scurried around on the earth and the trees before burrowing into the earth to form hives millions strong. Furry little puffs with a near invisible mouth and eyes of every color hopped along the ground and trees before sprouting overly large bat like wings and flapping into the sky. These and many other forms of life came to inhabit the verdant jungle of the Waltzing Mountains.
2PP (1 from the Masquerade): Mold Land Lesser to create the series of floating waterways described above, known as the Sky Rivers.
2PP Nourish Land: Absalom creates a verdant colorful glowing rainforest that covers every one of the Waltzing mountains.
2PP (1 carried over from last week) Nourish land: A bunch of odd prey creatures come to inhabit the Waltzing mountains. None of these creatures could pose a threat to a party.
The Lord of Spring Thorns twiddled a toothpick around the inside of his mouth, before belching powerfully, and patting his stomach.
"Well said, brother!" called Lord Rain from somewhere to his right. The Lords of Spring were lounging around the peak of the Southwestern-most hilltop of the Triskelion. Lord Rain crossed his arms, and closed his eyes, content to lean against his brothers and enjoy the pleasantly warm autumn night -- he abruptly fell backwards as Lord Star abruptly stood up.
"Who, in Spring's name, are they?" Lord Star's surprising coherence caused his brother's eyes to turn as well. Down below, dancing and laughing amongst the trees, were three beautiful she-fey. The Lyn of Autumn turned mischievous eyes towards the hilltop, and then scattered, off into the forest.
The Lords of Spring were all on their feet in an instant. "Brothers... I think I'm in love." mumbled at least one of the three.
------------
Sonnet regarded the bug and the purple wood waif for several minutes, but when they continued to only gaze at him in dewy eyed innocence, he snorted and turned his gaze to Caltabactos and his spider. "It's a big bug. I'll grant you that, but otherwise.... uninteresting. spiders too? Are you in the practice of making your own friends now?
Sonnet swivled his head between Caltabactos, the waif-like creature, and the giant bug. Eventually, he shrugged, turning to leave the cave.
"It is nice that they can live here, but it is a rather sparse place. Not much beyond them, although your muddy creatures helped out a bit, The Mother."
He grinned at the other gods.
"So I propose a competition. We each make a creature to make the lands below more interesting. Most interesting one wins!"
His essence swished around abit, forming a cube for a moment, before returning to it's normal sphere.
"So how about it?"
"I apologize for the intrusion Lord Sonnet. Allow me to properly introduce myself. I am called..." She frowns slightly and turns toward the pit. "Master, what am I called? You never gave me a name." After a few seconds pause her eyes widen and shudder wracks her body. With a laugh she responds, "I love it. Thank you my lord." She turns back to Sonnet with a smile. "You may call me Seffa if you like. I rather like the name so I hope it sticks."
She gestures toward the bottom of the pit wherein a sluglike being lay, eating dirt and burrowing deeper. "This is my master Siliis. He isn't very good at communication so he created me from one of the cute little children who are frolicking outside. We think he was hatched before he was ready. When the egg that he was born from fell from the tree it broke and ejected him in a rude manner. Premature creation would explain his inability to convey his thoughts in an appropriate manner. I love big words, don't you? Using them makes you feel so darn intellectual. But I ramble. What or who are you two? I know you, the Caltabacto guy, are kinda impulsive and... well you're bonkers. And you Lord Sonnet are stern and much more composed. Definitely my type. Are there any others out there like you two? Other "gods"?
"Wait, no, get back here you little vixen! Wait for me my minx--" Lord Rain's eloquence was sharply cut off as he crashed into a tree, reducing the rest of his readied prose into muffled spitting sounds as he found his face full of bark.
Lord Thorn stumbled into view, bleeding profusely from his head. Lord Rain spat out a mouthful of woodchips and shook his head. "You run into a tree too?" Lord Thorn gave his brother a dark look. "Hardly. It seems the lovely I was chasing is surprisingly handy with a mace."
Lord Rain blinked. "She beat you in combat?" Lord Thorn's features began to flush, slightly. "She had the element of surprise." Lord Rain nodded appreciably as he tried, unsuccessfully, to stifle his laughter. Lord Thorn growled, and his brother quickly became silent.
Lord Rain clapped his hands. "I know. I'll simply have to court her." Lord Thorn let out a laugh. "With what?" Lord Rain turned to face him, a manic gleam in his eye. Lord Thorn was taken aback at his brother's expression, then grimaced. "You want to make her an animal."
"Where's Lord Star, anyway? It'll be easier to do if he's here."
"You want to make her an animal.... Fine. But only because I enjoy watching you fail, brother."
"Oh, pish posh!"
Sonnet stiffened as Seffa grabbed his arm, and he remained tense while he gazed at her. "That tree." he finally began. "Does not have a very good track record then, I must say." He paused, stroking his beard. "There are other gods here, but it has been eons since I've seen them. I believe one of them is responsible for the great waters now surrounding us, however." He finally smiled, though it seemed filled more with fond remembrance than friendliness towards this new exarch.
"And I must caution you, I don't think my Lyn would very much prefer sharing me."
-----
~Elsewhere, and with much Irony~
The Lynne of Autumn Winds slowly approached the creature, making a wide circle around it.She brought a delicate hand down, casually stroking the creature's back. "What is it?" she eventually asked. Lord Rain beamed at her, happily. "I call it a Krin. I made them for you." Wind stepped closer to Rain, who began to sweat (only slightly!) "For me?" She fluttered here eyes at him. "How kind of you. It's beautiful." Rain swallowed hard, as he realized he had no idea what to do with his hands. He fumbled about, eventually deciding to cross them across his chest. He hoped it made him look cool and suave. The Krin beat its wings loudly, sending white-plumed feathers everywhere. Wind clapped happily and threw herself around Rain, squeezing him in a surprise tackle. "Thank you so much." Rain fell backwards, landing hard as he watched the Lynne dance off into the woods, laughing, the Krin in tow. "w-w-wait!" he cried out, stumbling after her.
--
Clang. Clang. Again and again the blades rang out, fine steel on fine steel, clang clang, snack-- Lord Thorn's blade went flying away, biting deeply into a tree with an audible "thwack".He paled as the Lynne of Autumn Leaves pressed one dainty foot upon his chest, bringing her blade under his neck. "Point, mine." She giggled, and hauled the dazed arch fey to his feet, before lightly shooing him towards the tree with his weapon. "Again!" she called, giggling with mock-shyness. Clang. Clang.
--
Lord Star had given up chasing the fleeting fey maidens after only five minutes. He had been reclining on the top of the Triskelion, ever since, watching the skies. He heard a rustle of movement and turned his head to see the Lynne of Autumn Moons deftly moving in to lay next to him. "The sky is nice tonight." he offered, by way of greeting. "...it's empty." She countered, looking at him oddly. He smiled, as if she had discovered some great secret. "Yes." He turned back to the skies, smiling knowingly. "Yes. Yes it is."
[sblock = PP Expenditure]
-1 PP (From Lords of Spring) -- Spawn Lesser -- Krin Chimeric mishmash of Mishway's current wildlife. It is a quadruped with the rear legs of a dobbit, the head of an orionid, a permeable, skin-flap of "wings" (Think flying squirrel) with similar patterns to Eroes, and three horns of gigadobbits (alas, no crown). Approximately the size of bears, they are currently the largest creature in the plane.
[/sblock]
The aforementioned Queen was lounging upon a large mushroom, spinning a leafy parasol between her stubby fingers. She gazed lazily across at a large Gigadobbit wearing a large crown who was lounging upon another large mushroom.
"You know, I've always thought that, since it's the Age of Gardens, we really should make this place more Gardeny," she waved a vague hand around at their surroundings, "I know teal grass and trees and mushrooms are pretty Gardeny, but they're so boring!"
The King Dobbit blinked at her.
"Oh, don't give me that," she paused, "And what do you suggest?"
He blinked again.
"I want something that moves... and if you blink again, for the love of me, I will smack you with this parasol," she paused to ponder while the King Dobbit blinked anyways, "I know, I know, the teal grass and the trees and the mushrooms all move, but I want something that moves, you know, without that pesky wind's help."
She stopped to think a bit while the King Dobbit contemplated a patch of grass, apparently having an internal debate weighing the deliciousness of teal grass and the effort he would have to exert to climb down from the mushroom to go get it. He decided the latter was more worth his time. Then the Queen opened her mouth and hurried off of the mushroom.
"I've got it!" she cried, and with a snap of her fingers, the patch of grass the King was just about to devour gave a little quiver and erupted into a stubby green creature. It resembled a miniature, live topiary bush, "Voila!" cried the Queen.
The King Dobbit sniffed the thing, apparently checking if it was edible or not.
"Oh I say," whimpered the thing in a dignified, snooty voice, "Go away, go away."
The thing waved a little twig-like hand at the King.
"Oh, this'll be fun!" exclaimed the Queen.
3 PP - Shape Populace - The Mish - This is a miniature folk shaped like living topiary bushes. They resemble high-class British socialites in their mannerisms and consider themselves the true heirs of Mishway.
Sitting there longer and longer, he let his mind wander back, recalling a particularly nasty critter he had encounter on one of his many many trips and the way it had fouled up and troubled so many of his experiments. "Yes, yes, those brown little fuzzy things are the perfect thing for me to bring here. They'll keep the skimmers in check and maybe something else will learn how to eat them, which will certainly make for an amusing sort of payback for all the trouble they caused me before."
Gathering a large ball of mud from the swamps below him, he set to sculpting and shaping it, hardening it once he got the shape he desired. After many long hours of delicate feature work, he finally stood back, watching all the lifeless statues he had created. SHaking his head, he sighed."I'm not very good at this part, but I suppose I shall make do as best I can."
Focusing his energy into them, he brought animation to their organic bodies and breathed life into them. As they were born into this world, he let the vinaeza scamper away, where they would surely slow the skimmer expansion.
Looking up from his thoughts, he finally realized he was alone. "Hm, I do wonder where everybody went. WHy would they leave without me, and especially without telling me. Particularly that spirit guy, since I think he owes me for pulling that black thing out of his skull. Still, I suppose I could wait for him to come back here, but then, he might never come back here, seeing as there isn't much here to be interested in,. Though, I do suppose he'll return to his tomb, no matter how weird that might sound, since he seems to like the place and didn't care for me moving it, so yeah, I'll head back up there and see if he shows up eventually."
Mumbling to himself the whole way, he slowly made his way back into the sky, returning to the tomb he had launched into the sky.
2/6 remaining
Trilobites - 100% Anubis
Naga - 33% each Chappy, me, Krika
Mish - 100% Aradeia
Edit: to answer Anubis: At the current time, we're only dealing with direct effects, but this may change quite soon... just need to figure out how to balance all of that.
In the darkness, Mishway and Culthet floated towards each other like mutual moths to mutual flames. Something was coming, and neither the gods of the dark ocean or the sunny hill had any clue as to what lay before them.
((Remind me, how does indirectly effecting a race effect worship again? It's obvious nourish/denourish X makes it so they worship you a bit more, but what about, say, the Mother making Mud Crabs so the Naga can eat them, or Shadow making the Skimmers to kill the Trilobites?))
Hmmm... the Has Still Not Formally Introduced Themself had a point. It was hardly fun around here for their Children with just her Mud Crabs to play with! And it would be nice to have these islands buzzing with life, as inhospitable as the storm made it to it. However, she could not help but see a minor flaw in her plan...
"That is all well and good, the Has Still Not Formally Introduced Themself, but I must ask how do we determine who's creation is the most interesting? Even if one seems better than the others, it is the nature of a Mother to always think their children are the most beautiful and wonderful imaginable!"
'What are you doing here? This is a perfectly private meeting in plain sight."
He turned back to The Mother.
"The Mother, then we won't be able to decide. But won't life be more fun down there, anyway?"
Ordek then turned, facing the naga again. Looking at them, he frowned. He'd need something to unite them, something for them to fear. Without fear, there could be no unity... thus, he decided to spawn mindless beasts for the naga to fear, and to work together to destroy.
First, he took some of the naga aside. Then, he caused his misty self to expand and he covered them, obscuring them completely. When he left, the naga he had taken aside no longer had arms, and had lost most of their naga traits- and they had grown to twice their size.
2 PP Spawn: Create Giant Serpents
[2 PP remaining]
Cuthlet
The Still Has Not Formally Introduced Themself could certainly be rude! "I am sorry for the Still Has Not Formally Introduced Themselves rudeness, the Hulna," the Mother apologized graciously. "I am the Mother, and this is my daughter the Ordek. I will leave it to the other Mothers present to introduce themselves, it would be the height of poor manners to presume I had the right to introduce them all."
Hm... perhaps the Hulna would want in on their little exercise as well? "The Hulna, would you perhaps join us in a little task? We've all decided that we should try and populate the swamps below with more creatures to make it more interesting for our Children to play in. The Ordek seems to have created some kind of... super long... faceless Naga. Which is interesting I must admit, if a little too uninsectoid for my tastes. So I think I will craft something a little... different."
The swamp seemed an interesting environment all in all... full of mud, and other creatures. Her Mud Crabs took advantage of the environment in their own way, but perhaps it was best if she created... the ultimate swamp dweller. Who could use the mud, dig through the earth to get the sweetest plants and animals, and could travel through the swamp with ease even while pounding with so much rain that it was impossible to see.
With this in mind, the Mother laid several large eggs, which soon enough were ripped open from within by odd organic hooks. And out from the eggs spilled numerous... things. With hooks for hands, a hard carapace, beaks, and feet with claws that rivaled the hands of most predators, the odd things shambled about for a few moment, clicking around to determine their new surroundings. Having determined that there was nothing tasty about, the things shambled off into the swamp, to find places where they could hunt, and lurk in the mud for food to come by before hooking it and dragging it down to drown in the thick swamp mud.
"There, these... Hook Horrors should do well in this swamp," the Mother proudly proclaimed.
2PP - Spawn Paragon Creature (Hook Horrors) - The Mother creates Hook Horrors to live in the swamp. Their favorite mode of hunting is to bury themselves in mud completely, before reaching out and dragging their prey underneath the surface to drown in the thick stuff when something comes in range of their blindsight.
[2/6]
Hulna, you do not seem... alive. I am alive, the Mother burns with the same bright fire, yet you and Itja-Rek are formed of something different. What is it? What fuels the fires of your existence? I suppose my questions may seem insolent, yet, I would know.
As its corpulent tones boomed forth, the fragment of Davos drove the air with a few mighty beats of its wings and circled Hulna and Ur. Pausing a moment, a long slender tentacle exuded from the neck of the worm and brushed Ur's face, almost a caress. A drop of clear liquid emerged from the end of the pseudopod. The searing acid drop of ink slid down Ur's cheek, leaving a hideously burned and bubbled track in the skin.
Seffa smiles mischieviously at Lord Sonnet. "Nothings more fun than a little competition..." She looks at him for second longer before snapping back to reality. "But that's another time. Right now I think my master would like to create something. He's sending some pretty gnarly images into my head right now. Something fast and winged. The mental pictures he's sending me look really cool."
She interlaces her fingers together, cracking her knuckles in a loud manner. "All right ,let's get down to the nitty-gritty." With a smooth motion she scoops up a large handful of the slimy soil and begins to mold it like clay. After a little pinch here, a twist there, and a lot more soil added in the mix she takes a step back from her sculpture. It is a insectlike figure standing a little more than four feet tall with a sharp carapace and four long arms. A massive serrated horn juts from it's armored head and another from it's back, and each of it's arms ends in three long fingers.
Seffa looks over the figure for a moment or two and smiles happily over her work. "A thing of beauty, ain't it? Now for the last ingredient." She takes a deep breath and the blossoms in her hair grow brightly. When she exhales it's not just air but a thick purple smoke that flows into the figurine. It stands for a second more before the dirt falls off revealing a figure that shakes the remaining dirt fom it's hide. It emits a series of clicks and antennae gestures before realizing they can't understand that. With a small amount of difficulty it says "H-hello-thank-you-good-bye" to the nearby gods before fluttering off into the trees.
She quickly made a few more which proceeded to click, gesticulate, struggle out a few words and then fly off after the first. Before long the treetops were teeming with the things.
[sblock=Action Box!]3PP Shape Populace - Troinat. A race of herbivorous communal insectoids. They live in treetops, devouring leaves and weaving grassrope and branches together to make roads that crisscross the tops of forests. Sometimes they hunt the Mish, finding them to be more delicious than just leaves.
Itja-Rek turned to face the Worm.
"I believe I can answer that at least in part, Davos. We seem different because we are not made of living flesh but of something called souls. I will demonstrate."
The god reached out and plucked a Naga up into the air, dangling it by its tail above the island.
"Do you see this naga? It is alive, not in the same powerful degree as you or the Mother, but alive nonetheless. Do you feel the gentle fire of life inside it?"
Suddenly, Itja-Rek spun the naga about, smashing its head into a rock and sending brain matter flying everywhere. He waited for a moment, holding his other hand over the creature's form. Within seconds a sickly-white soul-ball floated out into his hand. He dropped the naga and proffered the soul to Davos.
"And this is what is inside those alive creatures, a thing I call a soul. It is... the essence of the creature, its memories and hopes and personality, but it is not alive. I am made up of thousands of those souls... Hulna... well, Hulna was once one of my souls but was powerful enough to exist on his own, so he was... removed."
Itja-Rek shoved the soul into his form where it joined the rest of the souls in their unceasing wailings, then paused and smiled, looking at Karak as he said.
"I too will take part in your challenge. This talk of souls has inspired me."
Itja-Rek turned and faced the black ocean and gathered a huge ball of souls in his hand. He made a throwing motion and the souls sailed off his hand and over the water. The souls hit the water and the ball fragmented into hundreds of incoropreal spirits, some of who floated over the ocean while others dived beneath the waves, churning up whirlpools as they went.
"I call them... ghosts."
Itja-Rek spent a moment looking at his creations before turning back to The Mother.
"Mother, you spoke not long ago of allowing me to use part of the Hive we have made for my own children. I am wondering, does that offer still stand?"
2 PP: Spawn Beast: Ghosts, specifically Oceanic Haunts, but smatterings of the others.
Cuthlet
The Mother had to wince as the Itja-Rek smashed open one of her own children to demonstrate a point. "Please refrain from killing the Children without due cause," the Mother had to ask. "The death of a child due to the natural course of things is one thing, smashing them to explain something is quite another..."
Still, what the Itja-Rek explained WAS fascinating... all creatures contained these souls it seemed, including her own Children. It was nice to know that when her Children died, it would not be the complete end of them, and that they would live on in some form or another... hm, she really must think of something to do with this new knowledge sometime in the future. For now though, she was content to let her Children live, without meddling about in their deaths.
The Mother wasn't sure if she wanted things like these ghosts in the Hive, but it was the Itja-Reks as much as it was her own. Besides, she shouldn't discriminate against others Children just because they were unlike her own, that way lead war and the breaking of this communion of making Children and things for them to play with in peace and harmony.
"But of course, the Itja-Rek," the Mother replied. "You helped to make the Hive as well, you have every right to have your Children live within it. Indeed, any Mother should feel free to have their Children live within it, as long as they do not risk completely removing the other Children by misbehaving."
Hulna turned to Davos and said, "I would appreciate that if you didn't do that to my daughter again." "Shut up, Dad," Ur muttered before turning to Davos, smiling flirtatiously. Hulna sighed and turned to the Mother and muttered "Teenagers," before saying aloud, "That seems like a rather intriguing exercise, the Mother. And those Hooked Horrors are exquisite. Although I'm sure that my children will not come close to your insectoid beauty or that of your children, I will do what I can." Hulna was, of course, lying through his teeth about the superiority of insects, which he found somewhat repulsive. And even if bugs didn't gross him out, he refused to except himself as inferior to another However, he decided that the Mother could be a useful pawn or a formidable foe. Naturally he chose the former. "If you will give us a moment," Hulna said as he and Ur flew down to a small island, where a few trilobites and naga roamed around. He took some of the acidic goo from Ur's wound and shaped from it several tiny squidlike tadpoles. He inserted a tadpole into a trilobite's skull, and the insect went into seizure. After a few minutes, a bipedal, purple skinned organism with tentacles covering the mouth had replaced the pathetic bug. He did likewise with a few more trilobites and a handful of naga, although the resulting creatures showed little physical variation. The newly-created mindflayers feasted on the brains of what creatures were on the island. And Hulna gathered his children and gave to them his laws:
1. Thou shalt not cease in thy quest to reach thine full potential.
2. Thou shalt not give thine loyalty to others- they art but tools to be used and then disposed of.
And Ur gave her laws to her younger siblings:
3. Thou shalt not reveal all thou knowest, lest thine own knowledge be turned against thee.
4. Thou shalt not take unnecessary risks in thine pursuit of power.
Many of the mindflayers decided that this law would be ideal to achieving their ultimate goals, and so they formed a nation. And they named their nation, but did not reveal the name to outsiders. Instead it was know by others as Nihiliath for the actions forbidden by their law. They decided their leaders based on their accomplishment and power, in keeping with their philosiphy of the strong mastering the weak.
Now the food stores of Nihiliath were running low, for their prey were aquatic while they were landbound. And so Hulna tought to his children a ritual of his own devising. The incantation bound thoughts into physical form, creating submersable craft in the shape of a mindflayers head, with a hollow skull to allow the pilot to breath, tentacles of force to bind prey, psychic "ink" that clouds vision and thought, and a mouth leading to a storage container for transport back to the surface. In Nihiliath, the pilots of these thez'frul, as they were called, often rose to positions of prestige within their government.
And so, their work complete, Hulna and Ur returned to the other gods. "There. The mindflayers should mix things up a bit. The deaths of your creations is regrettable, but it is neccessary for their survival."
PP
6/6, +1 Arbitration from Ur
-3 Shape Populace: Mindflayers, a bunch of sadistic, cannibalistic, squid-faced, power hungry narcissists. Unlike the mindflayers from the MM (fluff wise) in that humanoid hosts are not essential for reproduction and mature mindflayers bud tadpoles off.
-2 (1 from Ur) Found Nation: Nihiliath, a loose alliance of mindflayers, run by a council of the most powerful/renown mindflayers. Any mindflayer in Nihiliath is willing to betray another for personal gain, but most prefer to merely manipulate and deceive for fear of treading on the wrong toes.
-2 Teach Populace: Mindflayers learn how to make thez'frul the better to catch prey with.
0 PP
Caltabactos stared at the new creations. They weren't like the others he had seen; these ones were smart. He considered these creatures, and decided their intelligence was a boon for him, rather than an obstacle. If they were smart, there was so much more he could do with them.
The God of Change turned to Seffa with a bright spark in his eyes, and evenly stated "They're good. But they can be better."
With a new smile growing on his face, Caltabactos walked over to a troinat, and grabbed one of its four arms, not allowing it to escape. Once the troinat was unable to escape, Caltabactos closed his eyes and transfered his power to the insectoid. Pink particles of energy rose up like an aura from the body of the god, and after being suspended in midair for a few seconds, suddenly surged into the Troinat, causing him to fidget from the slightly uncomfortable sensation. Caltabactos let go of the creature, but it still remained in the air with the swirling pink energy.
After around a minute of this strange event, a gold flash emitted from the confused troinat, and the pink glow around him had vanished. In the aftermath, the troinat was around 6 inches taller, far more robust, and had a shakey golden ∞ appearing on his top left arm like a brand.
After expending this energy, Caltabactos appeared a head shorter, and far more skinny. His hair turned a snow-white color, and did not extend far from his head. He smiled in contentment and simply exclaimed,
"There. Better."
[sblock=PP]
1 PP - Nourish Populace - A troinat is given the mark of Caltabactos, and around 1/1,000 future troinats will bear this mark at birth. A troinat who has this mark will have prodigious skill in one area of expertise. For example, a marked troinat could have improbable strength, able to lift more than should be possible for his size, or he could have super-troinat senses, seeing and hearing things from incredible distances. This trait is not hereditary, and for whatever reason, only manifests in males.
Despite the name, the troinats have no knowledge of Caltabactos, and instead, believe this to be the blessing of Siliis.[sblock]
The God of Beauty was pleased with his work of art. The Waltzing Mountains, once desolate mounds of rock and dirt floating through an empty sky, were now dancing within an intricate flowing network of rivers whilst life of every color and shape imaginable inhabited the floating mountain range. Truly they had become a paragon of beauty, a work of art unrivaled throughout the breadth of the world. However, they were not yet complete.
Like all artists, Absalom could tell when a work was still in need of attention long after even the most critical of connoisseur‘s eye would have declared completion. A feeling deep within his soul, an anxious itch or an upset aura, would not let him leave this place until some insatiable force was satisfied. Thus the Masked God set about attempting to devise whatever was necessary to complete the mountains.
After some time spent in thought with the Masquerade twisted in a concentrated grimace, Absalom decided that the mountains were to placid, lacking real danger (a strange thought given that one false step could send one hurtling hundreds or thousands of feet to the water below….), so he decided to create some predators to provide a touch of adrenaline and fear that would spice up life in the mountains.
To begin with, the God of Beauty summoned forth yet more divine energy and set about creating flesh from nothingness. A small deep crimson roundish ball of flesh, little larger than a fist formed in the air before the Masquerade, and after a moment of stillness it began to beat. The first few beats sent hundreds of tiny strings of blood out in curling, definite patterns, forming a complex system of arteries and capillaries in the thin air amidst the Waltzing Mountains. The heart began to beat faster then, and a series of other organs sprouted into existence within the circulatory system. Lungs, a stomach, kidneys, a brain, all these things Absalom molded into flesh, already knowing the purpose and function of each organ.
Next the muscles and bones of the creature were formed by the beat of that heart, the skeleton forming a quadruped structure wherein the beast would walk on all fours, while the muscles adorning the skeleton were thin and long but taunt with strength. It was at this point in the creation that several distinct characteristics began to take place. A long tail sprouted out and as the muscles intertwined with it a thin stretch of cartilage sprouted vertically to form a small fin at the base of the tail. Then, atop the creatures back another, larger construct of cartilage and muscle sprouted out horizontally in both directions for some ways, forming a strangely shaped hood over the beast. Atop the hood an odd joint also formed, however it was only visible for a moment before the ongoing process of creation obscured it.
After the muscles, bones, organs, and all the internal mechanisms of the organism were complete, the still beating heart pumped out yet more divine energy and wrapped the creature in leathery grey flesh, completing the beast. What stood before Absalom now was a large creature, about 7 or 8 feet from the tip of its tail to the tip of its head, with the central body resembling an emancipated yet well muscled furless feline. However, the tail was far too thick for that of any kind of cat, and at the end sat a strange tall vertical fin. Also, the neck was long and highly mobile, and the head possessed a series of four eyes, two upon each side of the face, with a mandibled mouth filled with razor sharp teeth. Atop the back sat a joint with a single long elliptical membranous wing resembling that of an insect.
As the creature stood before Absalom for a moment, a strange clicking sound could be heard and the large elliptical wing slowly rotated atop its body a full 360 degrees again, and again, and again. It kept twisting and twisting rather rapidly, at least several dozen times it rounded about the top the creature before the clicking stopped and the wing seemed to sit still for a moment. Then, with a rapid burrzzing sound the wing above span back around atop the creature so fast and so many times that it all blurred together creating a flowing circle above the beast.
As this took place, the God of Beauties new creation began to lift off the ground, ever higher and faster until it soured far above the mountain upon which it had been created. From below Absalom could see that the rotating was slowing and that soon the beast would have unwound the wing upon its back and loose all sense of lift. However, just then the hood of muscle and cartilage that had formed shot out to several feet on each side, forming leathery wings, and the beast began to glide away from its birthplace.
Smiling, Absalom set about creating more of the beasts.
1PP (Masquerade) Spawn Heroic Beast- Manta Beast: The body of a furless, emancipated but strong cat, with a shark like tail and a long thin head, four eyes, and mandibles. The beast has a single large elliptical wing atop its back (think a dragonfly) that rotates and twists, winding up the joint, and when it releases it spins atop the back so fast that the creature attains lift like a helicopter. Once unwound, the Manta Beast will unfurl a leathery hood/wing thing that looks like a Manta Ray from atop its back.
With a nod and a coy smile Seffa leaves the cave and walks over to the pool the tentacle thingy floated around in. She poked it's squishy bell-like form and then lifted it out of the water. "You, my friend, are about to enter a new world..." Holding the jellyfish in her hands she leaps to the top of a nearby tree. A few nearby troinat waved in her direction, curious as to what she was doing with the strange squishy thing. She walked from treetop to treetop across the roads braided through the forest by the troinat before reaching the top of a mighty tree. She stood there a moment looking out over the lands below and then with a shout flung the jellyfish high into the sky. It did not fall. Instead it just hung there in the air. She pointed a finger at it and shouted "Grow, squishy thingy!" and it did. It grew and grew becoming larger than a dobbit, an orionid, a wood waif, even the troinats themselves and it still grew. It finally stopped growing when it was nearly twenty feet in diameter, softly undulating in the breeze.
She looked to the troinat who had gathered and were watching in awe, then back to the jellyfish and then back to the troinat. "You," she pointed to one unsuspecting troi standing in the group, "Come over here and touch one of these dangly bits." The troinat walked quickly over to Seffa and reached out, grasping the tentacle. With a shriek of pain he let it go in less than a second, showing her the wound it left where it had stung him. "Hrm. Sorry about that. I forgot that it stung things." She grasped a tentacle in each hand and squeezed. Then she let go and looked back at the stung troinat. "Now grab it again." He clicked at her indignantly, an obvious no, but she just narrowed her eyes at him. He tried to say something else but then his head suddenly exploded.
"Whoops!" Seffa exclaimed in surprise, "I just meant to force him to do it, not blow him up. Well the next person I choose had better follow my command lest something like that happen again." The remaning troinats looked at each other in what must've been fear and nervousness. "You there, with the twigs in your carapace. You come and grab this thing. Unless you'd rather explode as well." The troi rushed forward and without hesitation gripped the tendril, seeming to wince in pain. But nothing happened. The other troinat came and gripped a tentacle each with similar results. No more painful sting, just a pleasant warm feeling. "Yay! Now it works just how I wanted. Ya see my little troinats, now you can use these jellies to fly. All you gotta do is..."
2PP (one from Seffa) Teach Populous - Teaching the troinats how to control the skyjellies so they can fly across the land for transportation, recreation, mish hunting, or scouting new areas for towns.
"Why of course my sweet Charles, anything for you," crooned Penelope, handing over the basket of crumpets.
Charles took a crumpet while Penelope stirred her tea and Alfred, who sat between them, sniffed his crumpet with a most disapproving look on his face.
"Penelope dear, how long have you kept these crumpets?" asked Alfred, doing his best to sound helpful but coming off as more snooty than anything.
"Why they are quite fresh, Suzanne made them just this morning," replied Penelope warmly.
"Suzanne, she's the wild one of the bunch," murmured Charles and Alfred together in unison.
"Speaking of Suzanne, where is she at the moment?" asked Penelope.
"Suzanne, she's the wild one of the bunch," murmured the two boys together.
"I'm over here!" called Suzanne, the wild one of the bunch.
Her voice seemed to be floating out from behind a woven screen propped some ways away from where her friends were sipping tea and eating crumpets. Suzanne, the wild one of the bunch, stepped out from behind the tree to general shock and amazement from her friends. Her topiary form had been trimmed to resemble a number of cubes connected by thin branches, when the current style was spheres. No one made so bold a statement among the Mish, it simply was not done. Then again...
"Suzanne, she's the wild one of the bunch," murmured the three Mish in disbelief.
"We come to make life interesting for these naga, and you make competitors for them? Not good form, Hulna....."
He idly reached down into the water, and pulled up a chunk, examining it for a moment. He then poured his energy into it, solidifying the water into a semi-solid mass. He then began forcing the corruption to mutate them, creating several diferent ones, not particularly diferent, but each with their own unique characteristics. He then gave them an insatiable hunger, and placed them down, some in the water, others in on land. He watched them move off for a moment, finding food, and then spoke.
"I'm Karak, as you seem to be taking it rather too seriously that I haven't told you."
-3 PP: Spawn Creature(Greater): Oozes, of all shapes and kinds
Itja-Rek nodded to the Mother.
"Thank you. I figured it was better to ask permission than to prompt needless conflict later on. I shall return shortly."
Itja-Rek sped off in the direction of the Hive, passing into the tunnels and down into the Twisted Hive. He scooped up some of the water, rampant with mosses and algae, and spent some time examining it before dropping the water and picking up one of the myconid scavengers that had forayed into the darkness.
This was far more promising. He watched for a time, examining how the various components of the fungal organism worked together to a common goal, similar to how his souls 'worked' together to form his body. After a few more moments, he looked around, judged the space too small for his plans and left the Hive, diving into the water and traveling a good two hundred feet down before releasing the fungus.
Itja-Rek watched it float before him for a moment, and then pointed his palm towards it and sent souls flying into the tiny organism, matching the souls with divine energy that burst from his hand as well. Slowly at first, but with ever-increasing speed, the fungus increased in size, rapidly forming a broad, flat expanse a good five-hundred feet across. Soon, round lumps, some small, others twenty or so feet high burst from the ground in orderly rows with what appeared to be streets running between them.
Itja-Rek pushed off the last soul into the massive organism before him and felt the spark of intellect light in the creature before him. A voice, one of immense power, spoke in his mind.
"I LIVE."
As Itja-Rek examined the being, he saw one of the mounds grow smaller as part of the mass of fungi appeared to bud off of the main city-fungus and arrange itself in a vaguely humanoid form, which began walking the streets of the city, every once in a while touching another wall to bring forth another one of its kind at the expense of the city as a whole. Satisfied, Itja-Rek resolved to allow his new creations some time to become acquainted with sentience before he returned. He slipped away back to the rest of the gods, noting as he went that he had noticeably fewer souls around his form than before he had created all of these beings.
3 PP: Shape Populace: Bryofites. The Bryofite race is a hive-mind that consists of three total forms. The largest is the city-form, which is fully alive and thinks for itself, but rarely speaks, preferring to contemplate deep matters. The middle form are the humanoid Bryofites, who make up the 'individuals' of the race. These are allowed some autonomous thought, although all are ultimately controlled by the City. Individual Briofites are not aware of what other individuals are feeling or thinking despite their common connection. The smallest form is a single-celled form used for survival in adverse conditions or, in some cases, mind-control. (See the wiki for details)
1/6 remaining
Sonnet watched Seffa away, saw Caltabactos still watching his newest creations with rabid expectancy, and finally turned to the pool that Sil's exarch had drawn a jellyfish out of. Sonnet shook his head in disbelief. There shouldn't be jellyfish, not here.
Perplexed, Sonnet stuck his head into the pond, then immediately pulled it out, ears ringing. It Something down there sounded like two massive metal plates were being scraped against each other. Girding himself against the noise, Sonnet braved the water again, finding a small diamond shape... well, tear, in the fabric of reality. As he watched, another jellyfish floated through it, darkening the area as it began to absorb nearby light.
Two species of jellyfish?
Carefully, the god reached out a hand, feeling the fabric of the hole. Carefully he drew both edges of the rift together, sending the tiniest bit of power to make the tear whole once more. Abruptly, Sonnet's head breached the water. The hole was plugged, so why could he still hear that keening sound?
A tinge of apprehension entered the god's mind as the bite of winter settled into the plane. Sonnet could feel his hair lengthening, his stature diminishing, and his tunic growing ever tighter around his chest. Spring was fast approaching. Sonnet began to stroke his chin thoughtfully, found his facial hair had already receded, and made do with storming off angrily instead.
The Worm Fragment continued to circle Hulna and Ur, unperturbed by blasts of wind and rain interspersed with thunderous explosions of lightening.
He returned down to the surface of the islands, and expanded his body once more, covering the naga and the surface of the land. When he returned, he only said one thing, Let's see how strong the mindflayers are now, Hulna.
1 PP Nourish Land: Metal appears under the surface of the islands.
0 PP Teach Populace: The Naga learn how to mine and work metal into weapons.
Cuthlet
The Mother was not amused by Hulna's comments... as vain as the Mother could be, she was also a firm believer that everyone should find their Children beautiful. As such, the Hulna was either a sycophant, or a horrible Mother. She honestly didn't mind the former too much, though even the slight possibility of the latter angered her somewhat. None the less, it was best to be polite and keep the harmony of the hive than to lash out in anger and risk tearing it apart. "I thank you, the Hulna, though you give me too much credit. Your creatures are also beautiful in their own way... though the fact they must feed on my own Children is regrettable. But it is the nature of things: all must feed, and all must be fed upon in one way or another. My Children are no more exempt from this than any other thing that crawls upon this world."
So it seemed the Karak had finally said her name... about time, she was becoming tired of calling her the Has Not Formally Introduced Themself! "It is not that I was taking the issue seriously," the Mother explained. "It was merely that I did not know what else to call you... you are a Mother, as myself, but if I called both you and myself the Mother others would no doubt be confused. I suppose I could have thought of another term to call you, but I did not wish to risk calling you something that might offend you, the Karak."
Honestly, the Mother had to agree with Davos... that WOULD make the Hulna's child a lot more beautiful to look at by her sensibilities. But Children were beautiful to their Mothers, and she certainly did not want to even imply that another Mothers child was not beautiful even subjectively. So for now, the Mother said nothing.
"Ordek, can you come here for a moment.
((After he arrives))
He reached out with a tentacle of his body, and touched Ordek with it, imparting his thoughts directly to him, in a way that could not be spied upon.
"It occurs to me that the nagas could use a bit of an edge against these mind flayers. And I had an idea. It occurs to me that they could be taught to take dead parts, and reanimate them, after attaching it to themselves. That way, they could take parts of their enemies, and use them to gain one or two of the abilites of their enemies. Would you like to help me do this?"
I agree. These creatures made by Hulna are unfairly slaughtering our children- our children do not stand any chance unless we give them some sort of advantage. I will help.
With, Ordek went over Karak's body, his mist covering him entirely. When he moved away, he said, There, you have my power to do what you will.
"I shall use it well. Let the Mind Flayers beware!"
It drifted over the tribes of Naga now, large snakes boasting arms, more generalized versions of his own pseudopods. While he used them only to write, these Naga's arms appeared to be capable of many things, from holding blades to what... what was that.
Drifting closer, shielded from view by a vicious squall, the worm-thing stared at a Naga. Numerous claws from a Hooked Horror wriggled on its skin. Intrigued, the fragment of Davos pulsed a haze of godly power at it, to mark its tile on the Sybline Dream, then split the snake end to end with a swipe of an acid soaked protuberance. Spattered in Naga's blood, the fragment beat its wings a few times, ascending once more to glide amongst the assembled divinities.
----------------
Down amongst the Caverns, Davos himself, The Worm, took up the square of darkened silver fallen from the Sybline Dream. A soft greyness of light hung around the tablet, and the god soon lost himself in the life of the dead Naga, seeking the moment when it became a hybrid, and attracted the interest of entities beyond the kin of mortals.
Eventually, the god made his way up to the others. The other gods immediately noticed that Itja-Rek's form was far less dense than it was before. At times one could see the dark outline of the Otherness that made up the skeleton of the god.
"So, who thought up that marvelous trick?"
"I did, of course! With Ordek's assistence, but the Idea was all mine!"
With that, he covered one of Itja-Rek's eyes playfully.
"I'm quite impressed, Karak. This grafting skill will allow these Naga to flourish with infinite possibilities. Are there any limitations to its use?"
"Those who attach the arms can't have things attached to them. The more complicated the part, the less chance it will attach."
He suddenly perked up, and peered down into one of Itja-Rek's eyes.
"But it makes them look so much better, don't you agree?"
"Yes, I think so too. Perhaps not quite as pure of form as before, but certainly improved."
The god gazed across the sea towards the island of mindflayers.
"I see that my one-time interloper has been busy as well. An interesting creation. So, Karak. It would appear we have all made our entries for your contest. Do you want to start another one? I found it quite entertaining."
"Oh, I definetly will think of another. After all, through competition things get improved. And improvements are good!"
Hulna was slightly confused by the statements of Karak and the other god. Killing naga and trilobites freely and unopposed? The mindflayers were hardly even making a dent in their populations! I WISH they were killing them freely and unopposed, he thought. But on the outside he merely laughed and said, "Well, they couldn't be upsetting you that much, since instead of accepting my offer to reduce the mindflayers' dependency on these creatures, you have prepared them for war. And as for you," he added, turning to Ordek, "I personally would love to wage war against you through mortal proxies, but as I mentioned earlier, I am quite exhausted and I fear that without my aid the mindflayers would be wiped out of existence. By the way, what was your name? I don't believe it's come up." Turning to Itja-Rek and the Mother, he said, "The Mother, I was merely complimenting you and your children, please don't read that far into it." My self-respect depends on it, he thought. "And Itja-Rek, I appreciate the compliment. My creations seem rather unpopular." And finally, turning to Davos Hulna said, "Perhaps Ur and I are a bit exposed physically. But I assure you, our mental talents make up for it." To demonstrate his point, Hulna altered the electron flow within Davos's mind, causing a headache and disorientation which, while noticeable, would not have serious or long lasting consequences.
-------------
In the core of the world, the Caverns of Davos had been silent too long. Silent, that is, except for the unending cracks of silver tiles falling to the stone floor and the beating of The Worm's many hearts. All that was about to change.
In the seventh and largest Cavern of Davos, where the Sybline Dream glittered in the darkness, Davos grew tired of the disorder of the silver tiles, the minutiae of the storm rocked world above.
What Itja-Rek had spoken of, souls, and that every living thing possessed one, lay heavy in Davos's thoughts. Perhaps he should create things, but they would not have souls, no, they would feed on the souls of others. After all, if the creatures of the world all had them, perhaps it was the souls that kept the other gods' creations frail.
He wanted his creations to organize the endless plaques falling from the Sybline Dream, so they must to be large, large enough to carry the hundreds of pounds of silve. Davos pulled some mud up from the bottom of the ocean, black, ancient stuff it was. Molding it together into a crudely humanoid form, only much larger, the god selected a few hundred creatures through the Dream, Trilobites and Mind Flayers mostly. A twist of divine strength and the souls of these creatures came free, dragged through the Dream and smashed into the crude mud forms.
The souls cried out, for they had not been brought to inhabit these monoliths, looming fifty feet high in the dark, they had been brought to fuel them.
Straightening, forms wavering, then becoming skin, muscle and bone, the Death Titans began to fight. Four hundred there had been at first, male and female, for three days and three nights, though who could tell beneath the earth, the Titans warred. At last, the floor of the Cavern slick with blood, twenty remained. Nineteen women and one male stood in the echoing cave, spattered with the blood of their fellows. The male, Devonoth as he would come to be called, raised a silver tile high, it still dripping the brains of the last Titan to challenge him.
"SUBMIT!" he thundered.
One by one, the Titanesses knelt before Devonoth, and called him their king.
PP
3PP- Spawn Populace, Death Titans
1PP(+1PP from Sybline Dream)- Form Nation
There was a new folk living along the Triskelion. They called themselves Eladrin -- "Children of the Heralds". They stood out among the forest's inhabitants, for they had no natural weapons, no natural protections. They were, on the whole, despairingly pink and fleshy, with nary a horn, claw, or mane of fur to serve them in battle.
It was only through their intellect and their natural geomancy (a form of hyper-empathy that allows the user to manifest the natural aspects of certain animals) that they were able to carve out an existence for themselves at all.
Though there were many subspecies, the weakest and most common type identified themselves as Virago, forming around a dozen small communities over the three spirals of the Triskelion.
The wood waifs, for their part, were simply happy to have real masters. And sane ones, at that.
-3PP Shape Populace (1 each from Lords of Spring and Lyn of Autumn) -- The Eladrin. The most common, mortal, Eladrin are known as Virago. As they grow in power, Virago can eventually ascend and become Archfey, like their forebearers. It is said that when an extremely powerful Eladrin dies, they linger, as a sort of Primal Spirit.
A cadre of troinats were organized to make their way over to the pinkfolk and extend a claw of friendship to them. The best wordspeaker accompanied them to facilitate communication. She walked at the head of the group bearing a ceremonial wooden scepter, ornately carved and inlaid with precious ores. It was to be a gift to the pinkfolk.
The group waltzed directly into the center of the settlement and the wordspeaker, Kuyall, spoke loudly. "Hello-we-are-the-troinat. We-live-in-the-forests-and-we-would-like-to-speak-to-the-administrators-of-your-community. We-would-talk-of-peace-between-our-people."
The God then received a stroke of inspiration. After recovering from said stroke, Caltabactos dug up some of the earth of the cave, and packed it into the loose shape of a rod. The God of Change channeled his raw power into his hands, making them glow a bright gold. To transfer the energy to the earthen mold, Caltabactos began to rub the rod vigorously, causing the glow to subside from his hands, and eminate from the packed earth instead.
Finished with the artifact, Caltabactos dubbed it "The Golden Scepter" and chucked it out the opening of the cave, letting it land in a random location. Should a troinat ever find it, he should be in for a wonderful surprise.
2PP - Create Artifact - The Golden Scepter. It grants great power to any troinat that wields it, but only if they have the Mark of Caltabactos. In addition, it has landed in some random part of the world, so it is currently not being used by any mortal.
3/6
"My, the younger generation is quite antagonistic, aren't they?" Itja-Rek smirked to the other two gods.
Then he stopped suddenly as a fragrant smell wafted by him, carried on an errant gust, smells that he had never before smelled on Culthet. He polled his souls and came up with a word for the smell. Flowers.
"Did anybody else smell that?"
Cuthlet
The Mother had been content to watch the proceedings for a little time... she was still somewhat tired after laying her Trilobites, and so was a little in and out for a bit. Though she had to admire the other Mothers creativity with the grafting of the Naga... if be a little surprised at how venomous they seemed towards each other regarding the mind flayers. It was a part of nature that some would eat others, so why were they getting so bent out of shape? The Mother admitted a little bitterness that her Trilobites seemed to be on the bottom of the food chain, but she loved them anyway and did not hate the predator for having prey.
Oh, and the Davos exploding was a little shocking too she guessed. She found herself growing a little jaded towards such random happening in the chaos of the Doesn't Shut Up, competition, and minor arms war between some of the younger Mothers.
"Indeed they are, the Itja-Rek. Hopefully their impulsiveness wears off as wisdom piles onto them, as the hive shall be ruled by its younger generations when the time comes for the elders to pass away in the winter." Huh, a smell? What kind of... then she smelt it to. It smelt... sweet. And wonderful. She didn't know why, but she had a sudden urge to find the source of the smell and suck all the gooey stuff out of it. "That is an... unusual scent," the Mother confessed, antennae twitching. "Is it of your doing the Itja-Rek?"
Itja-Rek shook his head.
"It certainly wasn't me. Perhaps we should try and find its source?"
But, just as he said it, the scent was gone. The gods waited for a long moment to smell it again, yet it was completely gone.
"A shame. It was a very curious scent. Back to our prior topic. While I am not opposed to great gnashing of teeth, is there any point where we should step in between our younger members?"
Cuthlet
That scent was intriguing... perhaps the Mother would smell it again some day. But back to the matter at hand...
"Oh, let the Children play the Itja-Rek," the Mother replied. "They're not harming anyone with their little building race. But if things get out of hand to such an extent that it comes to blows or one of the children races risk being wiped out... then it's our duty to step in and call for a time out to let the young ones cool their heads."
Karak pulled himself away from Itja-Rek.
"I am just as old as you and you can treat me like I know just as much as you, or....."
He stuttered to a halt for a moment, before returning.
"....or horribly creative things I will determine in the future!"
"Karak, while you may be full of energy, you are not young like Ordek and Hulna. It is they, the younger generation, that concerns me."
Itja-Rek's voice changed slightly when talking about the 'Younger Generation' and his eyes seemed to shine a slightly different color.
Karak struggled to a suprised halt.
"Umm. Ok then. I suppose that we are the eldest of our fellows. I guess it makes sense that we do the best we can to police them, try to keep them playing nice. And if they don't..."
He shrugged.
"We make them play nice."
He looked around at the other two.
"Sound like a plan?"
Still, he did his best to remain occupied. He started drying various areas of water. "Surely spirit guy doesn't want a wet tomb." He carefully scratched away at odd colorations on the walls. "Letting people draw on the walls. Not very bright, nor very clean." He even went about forming a few new minor tunnels that he could squeeze through to make moving about easier. "Just because I can walk through a wall doesn't mean I should have too."
But seen after all that, he flopped down on the floor, bored out of his mind. "Or maybe into my mind, since people often tell me I'm out of it anyways. Odd thought really. How does one get out of their mind. Then again, how would I get into it either. Was I born into it? Or was it something only a child could do and I did it without remembering. For that matter, how was I born? I can never seem to remember no matter how much I concentrate and concentrate."
Shaking his head irritably, he stood up. "Shame on spirit guy for leaving me sitting here so long alone. It's just outright rude to leave your guest behind and then not even greet him when he comes back to your home. That does it then. When he gets back he's going to have a whole mess of things that he can clean up, and maybe they'll even try to eat him or something. I don't know, then again, having stuff eat him would be awfully rude of me, and it could even be painful, though, so I guess that is a relatively bad idea. So I guess I won't be doing that either. Darn, it sounded like a lot of fun to do and watch though."
Eyes opening wide, his face spread into a wide grin. "I know, I'll make something to keep him company when I'm not here, something large and powerful to help him defend this place and at the same time something that enjoys living in caves and tunnels. Though, I suppose it'll need sharp claws and hard scales to defend my friend and it self, particularly form those skimmer things. Of course, just scales and claws aren't very effective, but what else could I give them to defend themselves."
Puzzling it out for a moment as he drew in the air, formulating how best to work on this new creature as he puzzled his way through it, he snapped the fingers on his left hand. "Of course, of course. Give them power over the mind. Mental attacks and mental defenses, and maybe cones full of strange gasses. Yes, byes, that is perfect."
Dashing into the nearby wall, he began wandering all over the land he had commanded from the earth, grabbing all manners of gemstones he had seen when he fell through it earlier. Gathering them all up in the central most chambers, he sorted them carefully by type, throwing out the ones that didn't live up to his expectations or ones that were the wrong color. One he had the piles sorted, he multiplied their numbers over and over until the room as full of gems.
Finally, he unleashed a horrid gout of heat and flame into the chamber, burning the rocks to a crisp and sucking the oxygen from the air. Coughing and hacking as he stumbled out of the smoke, he heard behind him the first sounds of life coming forth from his newest creation.
Itja-Rek shook his head. Where had that come from? Karak was a friend, not 'rabble'.
"Excuse me. I... I- I need to go." he stammered before turning and floating upwards towards his tomb. As he floated up the long, long distance, he tried to think about what had been happening lately. These thoughts about the 'younger generation'... they didn't seem like his own. He found Ordek and Hulna's squabbles amusing.
No. They are infuriating and bothering me, he thought. They squabble and are noisy and disturb the air around themselves with their needless prattering, just like younglings always do. Back in my day, we never would have -
with some difficultly, Itja-Rek, shoved the voice away. As he did so, his hand brushed up against a lump against his waist. He picked it up and looked at it and nearly dropped the dead Trilobite in surprise. When in the world had he picked that up?
It is a treasure, for our glorious vaults. He heard in his mind.
It would appear that his souls were getting bolder, although for what reason, he couldn't say. Perhaps it was because he had preferentially sloughed off the broken and screaming souls, perhaps out of pity, perhaps to get the constant din out of his head. Regardless, it ended up meaning that more of his remaining souls were the ones that had maintained some level of autonomy, and perhaps without the din of their fellow souls, they were able to plot more effectively against him.
As he drew closer to Wenet, he slowed, sensing there was another deity ahead of him. He entered the tunnel and saw Tomb-Mover racing out of his tomb, hacking and coughing.
"What do you think you are doing here?" he demanded of the other god. "I told you to get out of my tomb, you did get out, so what posessed you to return?" Noises began eminating from the central chamber and Itja-Rek's eyes sparkled fiercely. "And What. Have you. DONE. TO MY TOMB!?!?"
Itja-Rek seems confused, does he not? What could have happened to his mind? Once I counted him a strong and firm member of the Hive, yet, he seems to be becoming less reliable.
With a wave of his hand, a small swarm of young gem dragons erupted from within the tomb, As the sunlight glistened and reflected off of their brilliant hides, it almost appeared as if streams of light had erupted from the cave to take to the skies around the floating mountain in a beautiful display.
Come down to the core of the earth, through miles of water and a mantle of stone. I would see your creations, and I believe we could reach an understanding.
Itja-Rek paused, considering how much to reveal of his current situation, then decided that it wouldn't hurt to share. He floated towards the side as the gem dragons filed by and said:
"I do seem to be having some troubles lately. I fear it is a consequence of my very nature... being made of many souls, that is. I imagine that many of these souls that make up my form were once heroes, and while most of them act like this in my brain..."
Itja-Rek shoved forward one of his souls so that it rested on his palm, and then coursed a small amount of power thought it, revealing a humanoid figure screaming in terror. He closed his fist and the screaming stopped.
"Some are more... comfortable. While this provides me with some advantages: Lore from bygone ages, experiences, help in delicate situations, it also means that in periods of weakness, I can... get distracted. I think my current troubles are because of this."
He lifted an arm and showed Aaviz how he had far fewer souls than before.
"I think the screams of their soul-kin distract the coherent souls and prevent them from interfering too much. Now that I am depleted, they can act as they will. I am at a loss as to how to resolve this problem, though."
Walked past Itja-Rek, he paused and turned back. Eyes closed, he worked his hands in a loop, moving fast and fast as he shaped the air itself into the form he desired, he opened his eyes and tossed the item to the god. "This should alleviate your quandary, however, it's efficacy will only remain for the duration that you wear it. Should it be displaced, the crown's influence will dissipate, leaving you as you were previously."
Rubbing his forrheard as if he had a headache, he looked up. "What was your name again?"
2/6
~Mishway~
Poliphas started at the departure of the sparkling cloud. That was a god as well? Perhaps not all divine ones had taken forms like himself, Syrene and the laughing one. The last words spoken by the sparkling cloud drove a familiar urge up in Poliphas' soul. Truly, there was work to do. But, he would need some assistance. And with the departure of Absolom, and the workshop's owner showing no sign of breaking out of his hysterical laughter, Poliphas would have to make an assistant.
Poliphas began by siphoning off a portion of his strength and giving it form. He started creating a copy of himself, but realized that then he'd just have someone who would constantly agree with him. So he altered the mass, changing the face of his assistant to have a strong jaw, so as to not be afraid to speak up with his ideas. Poliphas then garbed the creation in a vest of red and leggings of black. Poliphas looked pleased at his creation. As the spark of divinity finished taking its final form, Poliphas spoke:
"Welcome, Ruudite. I have a couple of tasks for you."
"Certainly, Commisioner!"
Commisioner? Well, it did make some sense. Poliphas did commision his strength to create Ruudite. And he did want to have an assistant with a different point of view. An echo of an ancient saying floated to the surface of Poliphas' memory. "Be careful what you wish for." Well, he'd definitely be more careful in the future. Poliphas broke out of his reflective moment and pointed at the other occupant of the workshop, the laughing god.
"First off, I want you to watch this one. He has tried to harm himself earlier, then started this phase of laughter. Try to prevent him from harming himself in the future. Just remember, he is a god and can overpower you. Secondly, should he recover his senses and wish to resume his work here, you are to help him in any means he asks of you. Lastly, I may need of your services at a future time. If I call on you, you may leave here and come to my side. Is this understood?"
Ruudite made a gesture, touching the side of his straightened hand to just above his eye.
"Understood, Commisioner!"
"Very well. I shall leave you to watch him. I wish to see the rest of this world."
Poliphas left Ruudite in the workshop and returned to his pillar. Looking down at the world below, he noticed a number of new creations in the plains below. He gathered his strength to add to these creations, but found his strength diminished. This was odd, perhaps he had invested too much of his strength to creating Ruudite. Perhaps he would speak with the others to see if they would help him.
Cuthlet
The Karak was excitable enough the Mother found the idea of them policing anything... a little alarming. Never the less, he spoke sense... especially since he was more or less echoing the Mothers own suggestion. "I couldn't agree more, the Karak," the Mother replied.
The Itja-Rek... left rather suddenly, didn't he? The Mother couldn't help but be a little concerned with his behavior. But when Davos spoke into her mind, she knew how to reply. The Itja-Rek is the wisest of us all, the Davos. He may be feeling a little under the weather, but I have full faith that whatever the case, he will always be reliable and trustworthy. Incidentally, you wouldn't have accidentally blown up a trilobite when you did your explosive exit? I seem to be missing one.
Turning to the Karak, the Mother 'smiled' warmly. "So, the Karak, it seems we have been left to our own devices while the Itja-Rek rests and the younger Mothers play. What say you we try and make a little joint project of some kind? The last help I had with a matter was the building of the Hive, and even if it were not for it's great usefulness to my Children, the mere sense of community gained from Mother helping Mother would have made it a wonderful experience merely for that feeling."
He glanced down at the crown and placed it on his head. He felt more than a little silly wearing such a dainty little circlet on his head. It also didn't seem to be working quite so well... the voices were still there. Taking the crown off, he fiddled with it for a moment, adding a few extra pieces to the crown to make it a) more dignified and b) hopefully more effective. With everything done, he placed the crown firmly on his head, grunting as the hidden prongs engaged and burrowed into his skull. Immediately the voices quieted to a dull roar, and Itja-Rek breathed a sigh of relief.
"Well, Aaziz, it seems to have worked. You have my thanks. I feel I should return to the surface and apologize to Karak... I was less than pleasant before. Would you join me?"
He began moving towards the entrance to Wenet, hoping the other god would follow.
1 PP: Create Artifact. Finishing off Aaziz's artifact for me.
"Suzanne, she's the wild one of the bunch."
"-come back! Where are you going? Stop! Now! Gah!"
The quartet of Mish were running pell-mell through a dense thicket of trees. Branches whipped at their branches, and leaves slapped their... well.... leaves. Alfred, Penelope and Charles were chasing after Suzanne, the wild one of the bunch, who in turn was chasing after what appeared to be a giant dobbit wearing a crown. Suddenly, they burst into a clearing and they all stopped dead. The dobbit was nowhere to be found.
"Suzanne, fina-"
"Suzanne, she's-"
"Oh, will you stop that?!?"
"Sorry..."
"Suzanne, finally you st-"
"Su-"
"SUZANNE, FINALLY YOU STOPPED!"
The Suzanne in question looked abashed.
"Well gosh guys, I was just chasing after that dobbit, there's no need to get all worked up about it..."
Under the harsh stares of her comrades, Suzanne faltered, "Look, he had a crown, okay!" she exclaimed, as if this would make up for leading them far from their cozy tea nook. Then, even as the three Mish refused to let down their gaze of death, something dropped into their midst from a high tree.
"GRRR!" exclaimed the thing.
The Mish scattered in fright.
"Stop! Come back! I only want to eat you!" shouted the Troinat at their fleeing backs.
The King Dobbit, who had been watching all this from behind a nearby bush, scampered off in search of more Wood Waifs to impale.
Cuthlet
Hm, strange... perhaps one was eaten and I did not notice. Well it is of no matter... I love my Children, but they are a part of this world, and all things in this world are preyed upon and die eventually. Though sometimes I wish my Trilobites were above the level of plankton in this food chain... but maybe I shall make my next Children a little more viscous.
-----
Glancing at Itja-Rek, Aaviz shrugged. "I've got somewhere to be. I think I'll catch up to you later."
Following the strange mental signal he had detected but not allowed to touch his mind, he sought out it's source.
A voice spoke beneath Aaziz, and when he glanced downwards, a strange sight greeted him. A worm, grown to a horrible extent. Several hundred feet long, its sickly white body secreted a constant sweat of sticky dark ink, acidic from the fumes that rose from it. A million wriggling protrusions extended from the hulking body, each scribbling pointlessly into the air. Such was Davos, The Worm.
How good it is to see another God, for the first time since I grew into my divinity. Still, you seem of elsewhere, not this plane, this place. Tell me, for I am eager for word of the light-drenched world above. Have you forged any races, wrought any beasts to bring terror to a planet? Where are you from, I know only that you emerged from Wenet, the Tomb of Itja-Rek.
The Troinat could have done far better in choosing a clan of Virago to contact. The Brightblossom Clan revered the lowly Mantid, and the most prominent members of the tribe often manifested the compound eyes and segmented chitin head-plates of their patron spirit. For a Brightblossom to manifest more meant that a fight was nigh.
So when the chorus of dancing, singing Troinat appeared in the Brightblossom village, the concept of another sentient race never entered their mind -- they imagined a fellow clan of insect-worshiping Virago had arrived, fully manifested and ready for war.
Much to the surprise of the Troinat, the Brightblossoms fled at their grand entrance, splintering off into the neighboring woods to regroup. As the Troinat milled about, confused and without direction, the Brightblossoms initiated a counter-attack. Beneath a hail of slung stones and spears, the Troinat were driven away from the village.
That night, a feast was held in honor of the lone soldier who had managed to bring down one of their strange cousins.
3/6 + 0/2
Straightening his hat, he frowned. "Now then, for what motivation did you petition me to venture into this accursed lightlessness? Further more, by what means were you able to determine my location to broadcast your psionic missive?"
Tired of the darkness, Aaviz held up his hand, bringing into being a bright light which illuminated the area.
You should be more careful, Aaziz. My servants have walked across the lands above, and I see eternally where they have walked. Every tree has eyes, every buzzing gnat records memories, and all trickle down her, the the Sybline Dream.
A particularly long pseudopod gestured wildly towards the dripping plate of liquid silver before resuming its insane writing.
I called you here to because I think a time of violence approaches. Hulna and Ordek, other gods, play a dangerous game of brinkmanship, a chess much with the lives of gods in balance. I am not so naive as The Mother to expect this current placidity to endure much longer. No, it will come to blows soon. When it does, and the Leviathan awakes from the deep and the armies of the Gods are marshaled, I intend that it shall not by my blood that feeds the maggots. Thus I called you here, to consider an alliance between the two of us, the beginning of a coalition, as it were.
"To put it as simply as possibly, I am on my own side, working with whoever provides optimal circumstances for me to persevere and progress my ambitions."
Well, it is a beginning. Suffice to say, if I see an opportunity for gain, I shall mention it to you and I hope we will be able to sufficiently exploit it.
Without another word, he vanished, returning to Itja-Rek, but leaving behind his glowing light.
"I feel I owe the both of you an apology. I was not myself for a variety of reasons. Aaviz here has helped me deal with those issues."
Cuthlet
"Do not apologize, the Itja-Rek, it was not your fault and you did no harm," the Mother reassured her. "Offer the Aaviz, whoever they may be my thanks however, for if they helped you with whatever was ailing you they are a friend."
The Mother cleaned her antennae thoughtfully for a moment. "The Itja-Rek, perhaps you would like to join in on a little project? The Hive turned out so well, and these swamps team with life, working together seems to have a much greater effect than doing so alone. I have also asked the Karak, though it seems I have not given him ample time to respond!" The Mother thought for a moment more, before adding "The Ordek once made creatures that fought each other in the Hive... the war made them the individual races in it more unified, even if they tore the two at war apart. Perhaps this little issue with the Ithillid and the Naga could be rectified if we were to make a common enemy stronger than both, that hunted on each of them in kind?"
"Thank you for your kind words. I would normally gladly lend assistance, but I fear that I must conserve my energy for now. The crown I wear is not a cure, merely a treatment, and it is my belief that the more I exert my power, and especially the souls that make up my form, the further I will slip away from myself. Until I have found a suitable means by which to replenish my souls and regain my strength, I fear I will be as useful as a light-eater jelly in a dark cave. I shall provide oratory support to whatever causes you wish, friend Mother."
Sadly, I am a) out of PP for the week and b) reserving next week's PP for something
Having finished the creation of the Manta Beasts, Absalom set about forging yet another predator for the mountains. This one would be different, where the Manta Beast was large and solitary this one would be small and communal. While the Manta Beast flew through the air and drifted from mountain to mountain as the whims of instinct, these would cling to the surface and burrow beneath the earth. And while the Manta Beast was a majestic hunter, stalking prey until an opportune moment presented itself wherein it executed a majestic artistic kill, this new creation would be brutal, vicious, and direct.
So drifting down till he was beneath the glowing rainforest canopy of one of the mountains, Absalom came to rest upon the forest floor. Reaching forth with divine energy, the Masked Deity began to shape the very earth of the forest floor into a new creation. Arms and legs, sight and touch, cold and hunger, all were imparted into the small mound of earth that Absalom crafted.
Finally after several moments of labor, a small furry creature stood before the God. It had two legs, two arms, a tail, and a head. The creature was barely a foot tall standing up, it was covered in a fur that seemed to morph and shift with the surroundings behind it, creating an active camouflage within the rainforest. At the end of its tail was a single stinger about two inches in length. The beasts face was slightly feline, with overly large catlike eyes, a tiny button nose that extended forward with long whiskers hanging to the side, and a tiny little mouth filled with razor sharp fangs.
All told the creature was adorable, and with a thundering clap of divine energy sprang into existence before Absalom and on every other mountain in the range. They looked at the God for a moment in silence, before with a cacophony of high pitched squeaks they bolted off to dig a large underground complex of tunnels from which they would sally forth in the dozens to devour the flesh of their prey.
1pp Spawn Creature: Mooskin Swarms- Tiny little furry creatures resembling a cross between cats and spider monkeys. They are adorable, but they are also bloodthirsty monsters that hunt in swarms numbering in the dozens and devour prey bones in all (think piranhas) with camouflage fur coats.
1pp Nourish Creature: Absalom causes swams of Mooskin to spread throughout the Waltzing mountains.
Cuthlet
The Mother gave off some pheromones of disappointment, but none the less kept a brave front. "It is alright, the Itja-Rek. Your own safety and your Children comes before some trifling project of the community. Though at the moment it seems as though I am the only one interested in contributing to it! Well it is of no matter, whether of community or individual, the result should be the same, with a little more time and power."
Itja-Rek's eyes lost focus as he thought more about what, exactly, he would need to find to make his project come to fruition. There was much to be done.
Poliphas looked around at the view afforded from his pillar. Seemed such a shame that no one else would share it with him. Poliphas decided to do something about the lack of company. He began by creating a large round table, and created 12 chairs to go around the table an even distance from each other. At each chair, a large variety of edible native plants appeared in bowls. Cups filled with water also appeared. Poliphas smiled at the completion of his preparations.
Poliphas then summoned a servant, who appeared to be a Wood Waif, and asked the servant to convey his invitations to the other gods to join him on the large pillar. The Wood Waif bowed, and vanished. Poliphas now awaited for his fellow gods to join him.
Sonnet looked at the wood waif, digesting its recited message. It stared blankly at him. He wondered how much of what it just said it understood? Useful servants, but lousy conversationalists.
He didn't care much though. He wasn't going. Poliphas didn't even know him, did he? "Find gods and repeat message" wound up collecting a lot of unintended visitors, he'd imagine.
The waif continued to look dolefully up at the god. "I'm not coming." growled an irritated Sonnet. That blasted screeching had yet to abate, and it was leaving him in a foul mood. "But I will" Sonnet's body froze in surprise, both halves of the god's psyche surprised at the outburst.
"What is this? It's not yet Spring!"
"Don't take that tone with me, I simply spoke as I often do -- why did you vocalize it?"
"I didn't vocalize it! You... was this some trickery of yours? Your Lords at work?"
"Ha, my lords have been well and fully distracted by your Lyn, as you well know!"
Though it barely understood the words flying out of the single god's mouth, the wood waif realized that this might take some time, so it sat down to wait.
------
~Elsewhere in Mishway~
As the xenophobia of the Brightblossom tribe continued to escalate in the way of the Troinat "attack", the other Vilagro began to take notice. A small faction within the Sunfeather tribe decided that they had had enough, and departed the familiar surroundings of the Triskelion in a trek north, a path leading towards the Waltzing mountains.
With the help of their Eroes spirit companions and geomancies, they were able to settle on some of the larger mountains, and came to carve out a niche amongst the strange, but beautiful, region.
PP Expenditure
-1 Nourish -- A clan of Virago Eladrin settle in the Waltzing Mountains.
2/6 + 0/2
Cuthlet
The Mother's eyes narrowed a little bit at the Itja-Reks next comment... but the Itja-Rek had not done anything wrong so far, and had done a fair bit of right. She was sure that even if the proposal was unsavory, it was for the ultimate good of the hive.
The Mother turned with some surprise to the Doesn't Shut Up. "I am so sorry, the Doesn't Shut Up, I did not notice you were here! But as for the project... I was thinking along the lines of something... big. And mean. Something that preys on squid and snake alike, meaning they'll both have a little better of an understanding of each other... or be too busy to squabble! But truth be told, it is more the community of the project that appeals to me than this end result... if you have a better idea, I would be overjoyed to hear it."
"I wonder what I should wear," mumbled the insane god as he looked over his naked body, "Something bold... something new and innovative! Or I could just wear nothing. That works too."
He cheerfully walked over to the Pillar, golden sparks flying out his body landing on the ground where he had been previously standing. Soon there was a trail of golden sparks marking the pathway of Caltabactos. The sparks eventually vanished, turning the grass golden. Large, golden oak trees shot out of the ground, forming a small golden forest. Sparks fell from the trees like leaves, giving the forest a sparkling atmosphere.
1 PP - Mold Land - Create the Golden Forest. This forest leads north to the Pillar, longer than it is wide. Anyone inside the forest quickly recovers wounds, and the golden acorns found within have powerful restorative properties.
2/6
Aaviz narrowed his eyes, outright shaking with overt rage. "What did you just designate me? Furthermore, how disrespectful, inconsiderate, and generally insulting for you to omit me! Were I more barbaric, I postulate that I would most certainly contemplate assaulting you." Straightening his hat, he continued. "As is, there is negligible requirements for such a being. They are under the aggression of skimmers already. If you theorize that they require a greater menace, simply incite the skimmers to onslaught them."
Cuthlet
The Mother cocked her head curiously. "I am sorry, the Speaks Words That Hold No Meaning, but I did not understand most of that... if you were saying that you find the term I find insulting, then I apologize, but I do not have your name. So, I must call you something in the meantime besides a Mother, which is my own 'name' and so would lead to confusion."
At her mention of the skimmers, the Mother let off more confused pheromones. "I am not familiar with these 'skimmers', but if there is already a threat large enough to make them understand each other better, perhaps something else to do so is unnecessary. What then might you suggest needs making? Perhaps something to fill the seas, since it covers so much of this world yet the land seems to thrive far more than it itself? Or perhaps a new race of children to add to the group. I honestly wish only to revel in the community of the Mothers, and so will be satisfied with anything that isn't a gross violation of my cause."
Holding his head as if in pain, he waved at Itja-Rek. "Can you be of helping this imbecile comprehend me?"
Going silent, he bent his head down, rocking and moaning slightly.
"Come now, there is no need to resort to name calling, friend. You must admit that the only prior time that the Mother here met you you were speaking nonsense and a very large quantity of it and refusing to share your true name. Even now I have a difficult time not calling you Tomb-Mover. I am relieved that you appear to have calmed down somewhat. To answer the current pressing concern, this god's proper name is Aaviz, Mother, and I'm sure he apologizes for..."
the god cut off as Aaviz began to moan.
"Aaviz, are you feeling ill? You are acting strangely.... well, more strangely."
Burying his face in his hands, he slowly rocked back and forth.
Cuthlet
The Mother merely scratcher her head segment with one of her upper legs. "What is an ignoramus? Or an imbecile? Or a minuscule? Or... never mind. Perhaps I do not wish to know. In any case, I am sorry the Aaviz if I have caused you any offense."
"Do you think he honestly does not remember what he did before? Perhaps he is more like me than he appears... maybe he too has a multitude of souls buried in his brain."
Itja-Rek eyed a rock lying on the ground near them.
"Perhaps I should return the favor he gave me earlier... what do you think?"
Cuthlet
A favor? Ah, he must mean that crown the Aaviz apparently helped the Itja-Rek make. Well, one good turn deserves another, even to someone who seemed to speak nothing but gibberish.
"By all means, one good turn deserves another," the Mother replied obliviously. "Regardless of her character, if the Aaviz has given you a favor, it is only fitting you do one in kind for her."
"Does this count as an intervention time?"
He then reached out a tentacle, and pushed it into Tomb-Mover's head. He then began to fish creafully around inside, his form having the appearance of extreme concentration, at least as much as it could.
"Hmmm....Let's see......."
Straightening his hat, he grinned. "Oh yes, I remember now, it was when spirit guy here pulled me into this world from beyond. I didn't want to come through, so IO pulled back, but when he jerked me through that hole I tingled all over and felt giggly. A lot like I do now, really."
Holding out his hand towards the Mother and Karak, he smiled. "Aaviz, at your service. Nice to meet you. what are your names anyways. I feel like I should know them, but I can't recall. Pretty sure somebody told me once, but the memory just isn't there. Don;t you hate not being able to to remember something. It's a lot like trying to pinch a greased pumpkin seed in between your fingers. YOu pinch and grasp and squeeze and get angry, but no matter how hard you try it just keeps slipping away. I wonder why grease is slippery anyways."
Frowning, he looked down. "What were we talking about again?"
Karak looked over at Itja-Rek.
"Can I have a little help with the intervention?"
Cuthlet
The Mother merely frowned at the Aaviz... and glared at the Karak in a 'don't be rude' sort of way. It wasn't nice to just thrust tentacles into peoples heads without their permission!
"We were talking about a lot of things, the Aaviz," the Mother told him. "Most notably about... well now I forget, that deluge of words wiped the thoughts from my mind! But I think we were all discussing repaying some kind of favor to you."
Hulna smiled at the unnamed god. "Ah, so NOW you decide to listen. Better late than never I suppose. Anyway, I was thinking somewhere along the lines of a plant with nutritional value similar to that of a sentient brain. The mindflayers would still need nagas and trilobites for the purpose of reproduction, but they will not need to kill as many."
Thinking for a moment, his eyes widened. "Something was wiped from your mind? How does that work? Did you pull your brain out and wipe it with a rag? But I don't see a rag. And how did you get your mind out of your head. Do you have a zipper of some latches on there somewhere I can't see? Does wiping your mind hurt. Can I try it? I have a handkerchief right here," he said, pulling one out of his pocket. "I promise it's clean and won't get your brain dirty. I really want to try wiping your mind."
Brightening, he pulled his hat off and started pulling at his own hair. "Maybe, ow, I can try, ow, wiping my, ow own mind, ow! If I can, ow, figure out, ow, how to get it, ow, out."
Slumping, his smile turning into a frown, he put his hat back on. "I guess I don't have a zipper or any latches on my head, so I can't wipe my own mind. What kind of favor anyways?." He suddenly smiled again. "I didn't know I did anyone a favor. I wonder why I did the favor. Of course, I also wonder what the favor was. And how I did it. Oh, oh, and how am I going to get repaid? Money maybe, or just fame and glory. Or perhaps you'll repay me by chaining me to a rock somewhere. I've always wanted to know what it's like to be chained to a rock. It should be a most interesting experience."
The Queen paused a moment in her self-narration to marvel at how fun self-narration was. Just as she prepared to begin again, something caught her attention. A miniature Wood Waif was standing timidly nearby, apparently wondering whether it should approach the lady with the many skirts. The Queen pounced upon the cowering Waif.
"Aha!" she exclaimed, "A clue!"
She examined the little Waif intently from head to toe. There must be something about this little Waif that would tell her where the King was, she just knew it.
"Who are you working for!" screamed the Queen suddenly, more of an exclamation than an actual question, "Tell me!"
The little Waif trembled like a leaf in the wind.
"Please ma'am, it's Poliphas," began the Waif, terrified, "He's having a... a... a teaparty! Yes, a teaparty, on his rock!"
The Queen considered this news, stroking her chin.
"Hmm, so the plot thickens... You!" she pointed dramatically at the Waif at the last word, who screeched and cowered, "Carry my egg. You shall be my... sidekick! Your name shall be Margaret!"
She plucked an egg from the nearby egg-tree as she spoke and plopped it into the Waif's arms. It was roughly the same size she was.
"There, you shall be Margaret, and you shall carry my egg," declared the Queen, "You shall be Margaret, the egg-carrying side-kick. Now come Margaret. Oh, and that's a magic egg, so don't lose it."
And with a swish of her many skirts, the Queen was off, mumbling to herself.
"So it's a teaparty they want, eh? Well it's a teaparty they'll get, see? I'll get back my hubby, and if I have to go down, then I'm taking as many of those... people... as I can, you hear? YOU HEAR!?!"
Ascend Exarch - 4 PP (1 From Egg-Tree) - Margaret, the Egg-Carrying Side-Kick (Arbitration)
He picked up the large black rock.
"Shall I experiment? I doubt it will kill him."
Turn 4 begins now.
Worship Percents:
locworldwarp.wikia.com/wiki/Worship_Perc...
(I am aware of the problems with the nations. I will have that fixed by tomorrow)
Nation Power:
locworldwarp.wikia.com/wiki/Nation_Stren...
Special Rules:
- Spawns may travel back and forth between Mishway and Culthet.
- Plants, small clods of land, etc, may travel as well.
As the planes spun closer and closer towards one another, suddenly flashes of light began to be seen, dancing back and forth between the two floating presences. At the near edges of the planes, a red glow began to appear as the boundaries of the planes approached one another.
"Of course," said Hulna, "assuming that the defeated survive. But I digress. If you will excuse me, I have a race to feed." And so Hulna flew off to the island where the mindflayers were. He manifested pure psionic energy as a self replicating, photosynthetic entity and scattered the newly created brain moss throughout the island, which would become know as Kiquer. The mindflayers of Kiquer soon embraced the farming lifestyle, and with Ur's guidance quickly mastered the agricultural arts. The brainmoss had an additional side effect, however- the raw psionic power used in its creation altered the genetic structure of those who consumed it. These mutations enhanced the mindflayers' already potent psionic ability. His work completed for the moment, Hulna returned to the other gods and said, "There. That should keep the inter racial fighting to a minimum."
PP
4/6 PP + 1 from Ur
-1 PP Nourish Land: Brainmoss, a plant which is able to be eaten by mindflayers.
-1 PP (1 from Ur) Nourish Populace: Mindflayers become expert farmers.
-2 PP Teach Populace: Mindflayers gain empowered innate psionic abilities.
Approaching Poliphas' pillar, she saw Caltabactos, The Monarch, and Poliphas himself all nearing each other. Syreene said nothing, but nodded in greeting.
"No? Nobody thinks this is a good idea?" Itja-Rek shrugged and let the rock fall from his hands. "So be it. If you would be so kind as to excuse me, I have some other matters to attend to."
The god darted off across the waters far to the west, landing on an island just barely within sight of the Hive, which, like a massive lightning rod, was surrounded by a continual nimbus of electrical energy in the unceasing storm. Admiring the view, Itja-Rek sat on the marshy ground and watched for a time, thinking to himself about his plans to aquire more souls. It would have to be something tied to the sentient races of Culthet, of course, as those were the only sources of souls of sufficient quality for his purposes. Simple animal souls would not do. He needed either a servant or a machine to cull off some of the souls before they went wherever they went and deliver them to him... or to some storage facility... that would be even more ideal, honestly.
On and on Itja-Rek planned, slowly putting together the pieces of the puzzle that would ensure his continued survival. A great enclosed metal container, a being who swam and flew through the plane with the sharpest of scissors, a funnel.
His thinking was suddenly interrupted by a commotion taking place not far from his little island. As he watched, a band of Trilobites were set upon by a horde of skimmers, of numbers far greater than he had ever seen before. The sentients were dead before Itja-Rek could even lift a finger, corpses dragged beneath the surface by the skimmers.
Itja-Rek buried his head in his hands. What would be the point of designing all of this when this harsh world seemed determined to destroy those few sources of life that had the souls he needed? The skimmers were a threat to the trilobites and, he assumed, the Bryofita. The Naga and the Mindflayers were doing a fine job killing each other. Every sentient race he knew of was in danger of extinction, and he lacked the time and energy to do anything about it.
"Sure is damp here..." he muttered to himself as the rain continued to pour down...
Not so long after the creation of the Mooskin hordes, Absalom was drifting through the canopy of one of the waltzing mountains, contemplating what he had accomplished and what still needed to be done. The Masked God’s work was nearly complete, his vast project coming to a close. A beautiful tapestry of life had been created, a vast complex ecosystem that was as functioned as a perfect ever recreating expression of art in a complex machine. However, were one to come across this waking dream, this ecstatic orgy of sight, sound, smell, and life, they would know not from whence it came…. Absalom was still young, still wishing to make a mark and a name for himself in the great expanse of Mishway and amongst his peers.
Thus the God of Beauty was considering just what to create in order to leave a final identifiable imprint on these mountains, when he stumbled upon something unexpected. A series of thuds smacking sounds reverberated through the forest, rhythmically one following right after the other.
Thwack…….. Thwack……….. Thwack……….. Thwack…….
Curious as to what in his mountains could be causing such a noise, Absalom started drifting through the glowing leaves of the upper rainforest canopy, travelling towards the source of the sound. Louder and louder that strange sound grew as the God of Beauty approached closer and closer, but then suddenly it stopped. The beating had ended abruptly, and Absalom was confused now not only about what was behind that noise, but also why they had ceased.
Thwack…. The noise resumed shortly towards the northeast. Thwack….. The God of Beauty resumed his rushed voyage towards the source. Thwack….. Absalom muted the gentle music that emanated from his form in order to surprise whatever was ahead. Thwack….. Absalom was mere meters away now, and could see a slight clearing but still no sign of the source of the noise.
Thwack….. One final time the noise rang out, but this time it was accompanied by a tearing and rustling noise, and one large branch of the stout fat dwarf trees began to shift and tumble towards the ground. “TIMBER!!!!!” rang throughout the forest then.
As the tree branch came crashing to the ground, Absalom saw that behind it stood two strange creatures that it had not created. They were anthropoids, with the shape of the other Gods about them. However, Absalom sensed no energy permeating the air as he did in the presence of divines, and they had apparently felled the tree branch with two flat blades attached at the end of sticks. The strange beings were only slightly both appeared to be male and both only wore some slight tanned leggings, though from where he floated (still out of sight of these beings) Absalom could tell the pants had been made from the flesh of Manta Beasts.
Slightly angered by this fact, but yet more curious, the Masked God watched from a distance and slowly followed as the two interlopers tied ropes around the branch and began to drag it along the forest floor. As they passed through the shrubs and trees, Absalom noted that almost all the other creatures gave them a wide birth, and that they marched through the forest paths with no trace of fear in their step.
A little time later, Absalom noted a whole host of noises coming from ahead that were not natural to this forest. The two beings walked straight towards the strange cacophony without the slightest bit of hesitation. Suddenly, the interlopers stepped into an artificial clearing in which rested nearly a dozen of their kind. Camp fires were burning in the center, smaller versions of the interlopers ran about laughing with one of the multifaceted glowing fruits and a crude stick, several small huts had been crudely constructed from the trees of the clearing with smoke drifting from a hole at their top.
The God of Beauty was struck by what he saw. What were these things? Who put them here? What were they doing? What should he do? All rushed through his head in quick succession. Darting up higher, above the canopy of the rainforest and amidst the glowing bulbous sacks, Absalom began to scan the horizon for signs of more. Sure enough, his divine perception picked out several other gatherings of gently wafting smoke upon a few of the mountains.
Sitting there for a moment, Absalom began to consider what should be done. They walked about in the midst of jungles without fear, their clothing told of them hunting the Manta Beasts, they felled trees and built strange camps and multiplied! Perhaps he should destroy them? No, though Absalom after a moment of reflection. He came to realize that he was not completely averse to letting the creatures stay. They had a certain grace, a physical beauty to their form, and the God sensed that they did not mean the forests any harm, for no maliciousness pervaded their auras. However, they had no fear of the forest, they acted like they were to be the rulers of it, and in time if they reproduced unabashed they might come to populate and subdue the entirety of the Waltzing Mountains. What to do, oh what to do…..
In a flash Absalom spontaneously realized what needed to be done, a solution that would fix both of the current problems plaguing him. A physical arm green arm reached out from the depths of that murky form then, and grasped at the edge of the Masquerade. Straining itself, the arm managed to break off the smallest fraction of a piece of the mask, then simply dropping it towards the forest below.
As the fragment spiraled through the air, it divided into dozens of such fragments and began to grow. At first the fragments grew into flat alabaster faces even simpler than the Masquerade, with two slits for a nose, big painted eyes, and a single line stretching from end to end as a mouth. Then, as the masks completed, muscles, bone, and sinew began to expand from the masks, though these were soon covered by silver and orange fur, and strange bamboo like shafts.
Plummeting through the canopy, the creatures reached out with giant muscled arms and seized the thin branches. The branches strained when attempting to wrestle the enormous weight, but they did not falter. The creatures swung then from branch to branch before settling onto the forest floor. Absalom drifted down to look at his newest creations, his Gorand.
They were massive, the largest of which being nearly 10 feet when on all fours and 15 feet when standing on its hind (though the average sized seemed to be more in the 8 to 10 foot range). They had massive black paws, well muscled limbs, and were covered with silver fur that slowly shifted towards orange near their backs. Growing upon the top of their backs, slightly longer than the fur, was a small forest of hollow orange bamboo like quills. Strange whistling and hooting noises were emitted from these quills, and it was through these that some semblance of communication occurred. However, their most striking feature was that situated atop their heads, instead of faces, were flat white alabaster masks resembling Absalom’s own. They all possessed painted eyes, two slips, and a painted line going from one end of the mask to the other for a mouth, though the colors varied.
Smiling, Absalom knew that the Gorand would be perfect…
2pp (1 from the Masquerade) Spawn Beast: Absalom creates the Gorand, large silver apes with orange quills upon their backs and flat mask’s for faces. They never growl or hoot or communicate through the masks, instead whistling and piping through the quills where other animals would bark or growl. They are extremely large but relatively quiet, and they live in packs numbering about one or two dozen with a pack Patriarch.
And with that he was gone, following Itja-Rek. Remaining quiet (something unusual for him), he simply watched Itja-Rek, wondering what the god was thinking. Finally, when he was about to burst out with all sorts of questions, he heard Itja-Rek speak, so it took it upon himself to answer. "A solution to what, spirit guy? Is your head hurting? Or maybe you wanted to bash my head open? That could be an interesting experience, so I'm willing to let you do it once. Maybe you could even tell me with their is a black bitey thing inside of my head. Or even just what the inside of my head looks like, it you wouldn't mind. I have always wondered just what I keep in there. Afterall, if it's not important, maybe I could take it out and keep useful stuff their, like pencils and knives and spoons. Never know when you might need a spoon, after all. Also, maybe you should dry out. All that water can't be good for you. It might get in your head, and then you'll have white floaty spirits and water inside there."
"As the suspects filter in, one by one, the perceptive and totally cool and effevescent Queen scans them each in turn to pick any signs of foul-play..."
The Queen cast a glance back at her sidekick.
"Maggie, you getting this down?" she snapped.
"Getting wh-what down, your majesty?" whimpered the little Waif, shifting the enormous egg in her trembling hands.
"Well, everything I'm saying!" exclaimed the Monarch, "What's the use of having a sidekick if it doesn't take down every single thing you say. You are Maggie the Note-taker, aren't you?"
"N-no ma'am, I am Margaret the Egg-ca-" began Maggie.
"Are you questioning me?" interupted the Queen.
"N-no my Queen," whimpered Maggie.
"Good, now go get me a tangerine, they are simply to die for," snapped the Queen, then, catching sight of Syreene, she hurried forwards, "Oh, Syreene dearie, it's been so long! How have you been?"
As she spoke to the other goddess, the Queen put on a bright smile and happy demeanor, but truly she was on guard. There were a lot of people on her suspect list, and this Syreene was right at the top. But she'd better cosy up to her. After all, it was true what they said 'Keep your friends close, but also keep your enemies close as well in order to nurture that closeness so that you can exploit it for personal profit or gain at a later yet to be determined date.'
"Aaviz! I'm sorry friend, but I was in search of a quiet place to think and ponder a solution to my rapidly diminishing supply of souls. I greatly appreciate your concern and interest, but... I must organize my own thoughts before any discussion with other Lords of Creation will be fruitful. Please, just give me time to - *glurble*"
Itja-Rek coughed as a large wave swamped the island and him, filling his open mouth with water. His nerves already on edge from Aaviz' unexpected entrance, he glared at the water and said.
"What, I suppose YOU have a way to solve my problems?"
0 PP: Ascend Thought's God!
Syreene held out a hand to stop The Monarch before she could get too close. "Greetings to you, Egg-Queen" she called out, her voice strangely tenor. She smiled embaressedly, shrugging slightly. "Something is off about this plane and its seasons. I'm afraid I'm not quite myself." "I wish you were less of yourself sometimes." Syreene continued, apparently to herself. "Quiet, you" murmured Syreene, a false smile still affixed to her face.
As if to drive home her point, a chorus of wailing ghosts erupted into the clearing, looped several times around the goddess, sending her dress fluttering and spinning, and then vanished as quickly as they had appeared, still moaning and screaming to themselves.
He blushed and turned around to the two goddesses, and ran his strange hand through his white hair. "Aha... sorry. So how are you two doing?" The energetic god heard a swooshing sound behind him, and was delighted to see a dobbit running for his life away from an ero. The ero was faster however, and dived down to get his...
Scraaaaaaw!
A split-second before the Ero had its talons around the dobbit, the docile beast had simply... vanished? The ero got up quickly, disoriented, wondering why it hit the ground and its crop wasn't full of dobbit meat.
"What just...?"
His squishy outsidyparts became less squishy and his phermones became more potent, the sacs they emanated from growing larger and more vibrant. After devouring hundreds of the stones he finally became unable to move, his exterior as hard as stone, reduced to sending chemical messengers instructing his followers to expand their efforts and hand-feed him. And after ingesting even more he began to grow large and dense, unable to be fed the things normally. After a day or two his doting slaves discovered that after applying a portion of Sil's slime to the stones they could be fed directly through his thick carapace into him. And so these efforts continued day after day without complaint or thought of rest. Numerous workers dropped dead from exhaustion and malnourishment only to be fed to Sil and new ones were always available to take their place.
Now the sluglike god was a lot less sluglike. He was an enormous barbed thing, pleasant smelling and warm to the touch. His new form was likened to the original thing which had spawned him: some sort of egg or coccoon or chrysalis or whatever other words there are for an enclosed growth chamber.
~~~~~~~~
Elsewhere, the troinat learned to avoid virago tribesman who seemed to have insecty parts growing out of their pinkfolk parts. They didn't get along well and just loved to kill them for some reason. And while the troinat could hold their own physically, the virago's strange abilities to control the surroundings always gave them the upper hand. They were quite pleased with another band of virago who had randomly approached them though, ones who had the air of their creator about them. Their abilties, geomancy they called it, were just amazing. Manipulating the winds, weaving leaves and branches like simple string, and etcetera amazed the troinat.
And that was before they started to take on characteristics of the skyjellies. Their skin sometimes taking on a transparent watery-feeling texture. Also their hair becoming long and gangly tentacles was cool too. After a little training they became just as proficient as the troinat at controlling the skyjellies, if not moreso with their geomancy and manifesting. Time passed and even more virago joined their ranks, eventually becoming enough to form their own tribe. With the blessing of the troi they took some of their skyjellies and went off to find their true homeland.
In another corner of the forests a group of troinat explorers found something amazing. Off in the distance was a golden something. Naturally they drew closer to it and were amazed to find an entirely golden forest. Though they had been tasked with bringing back information about new lands to inhabit, these troi decided to ignore their orders and just settle here. So they did.
~~~~~~~~
Seffa was walking through the woods on her own, just wandering aimlessly as beings with supernatural abilitites incomprehensible to mortal ken often do, when she happened across a wood waif bearing a message. "Oh goody! A party where we can meet the other lords and makers! This is definitely an occaision Lord Sil must attend!" After exploding the wood waif (after her first accidental detonation she found she quite enjoyed making beings go boom) she hastened back to the grove. "Lord Sil! We're going for a picnic!"
Effortlessly she hefted his form and carried it out of the cave, heading toward the meeting place.
~Mishway~
Poliphas looked once more out over the landscape surrounding his pillar. He watched in amazement as a forest started approaching. He also sensed the first presence he had met in this world coming towards his too. And then, an unfamiliar presence next to the one called Syreene. Well, it seemed at least three gods were coming in response to his invitation.
Poliphas figured he wouldn't have time to serve the requests of three gods. He would have to get some help. He liked the idea of the Wood Waifs as a simple servant, but wanted one that would be able to make decisions on their own. Once he had decided on the basic framework, he started making the necessary modifications. To begin, he expanded their head space, to allow more room for the runes of intelligence carved into the surface of the head. The head taken care of, Poliphas began to work on the force that would allow independance from the chains that supported the Wood Waif's life.
Poliphas took the materials from one chain from an expired Wood Waif and rolled them around in his hands. The metal began to glow in the god's hands until the metal was a solid ball. Poliphas blew gently on the metal sphere until the sphere had cooled off. He then reached behind his back and pulled out a carving tool. Poliphas started carving runes into the cold sphere, encircling the circumference once, then a second time perpendicular to the original runes. After completing the second set, he carved a final set intersecting the two rune circles again perpendicular to both circles. Once all circles were completed, the runes started glowing. Poliphas smiled in satisfaction as he placed it into the chest of the modified Wood Waifs frame.
While the sphere looked securely placed, Poliphas feared someone else would take the spheres from his creations. The best idea then would be to cover over the sphere with protective plates of stone. Poliphas secured two plates around the torso, and waved his hand over where the seams met, leaving a solid stone shell around the torso. He then caused the wood inside the shell to expand, filling the voids left over.
After finishing with the torso, the rest of the creation seemed bare. Poliphas made more plates to cover the face, arms and legs of his creation, until the creature no longer resembled a wooden person but one made of stone. To distinguish this new race from the others, Poliphas gave them name Eidolons.
The gathering of Skyshadow Virago lulled comfortably about the warm glow of the cooking fires beneath the phosphorescent canopy of the Waltzing Mountains. Some walked under the trees, running the events of the day through their minds, others lay on their backs and stared up through the clearing they had made in the forest towards the night sky, while still other males and females teased and flirted endlessly, carrying on the age old mating game. All felt a sense of satisfaction though, for they had dealt with a problem that had plagued them for some time.
It had been a great deal of time since the Eladrin of the Skyshadow clan had come to these mountains and set up enclaves separate from the rest of their Virago kin. Since then they had prospered, clearing land and building homes for themselves, walking amongst the trees to pick fruit, hunting all the wonderful prey and even some of the predators of this place, and they had procreated. Several weeks before though, some strange new entities were spotted deep in the forests. Massive silver apes with flat white faces that never uttered a sound, and strange quills sprouting from their backs had been seen either in isolation or groups of two or three several times over the past two months or so. The apes always seemed to be watching the Virago, and always kept their distance.
At first the Skyshadow were fearful of these new beasts, for they were massive and could obviously pose a threat. They had even sent out several hunting parties in an attempt to stalk them and see from whence they came. But the apes always seemed to disappear into the depths of the forest whenever the Skyshadow sought them, leaving not a trace despite their great stature. Over time though, as the Virago got used to seeing the silent beasts in the woods at a distance, and since no aggressive acts had ever materialized from the beasts, the Skyshadow grew confident that they posed no real danger.
However, there were other nuisances in these forests. The tiny swarms of Mooskin were a plague upon the clan. Their hunting parties were assaulted by vast living tides of the vermin on an almost daily basis, and they would always melt back into the forest before they could be killed. On several occasions throughout the years, a lone Skyshadow or a pair might be walking the forest floor on their own, when suddenly dozens of the beast would pour out of the canopy and attack, horribly maiming the poor souls. Never, however, had an Virago actually been killed by the Mooskin, never that is, until the day prior.
One of the Skyshadow had been mere meters from the clearing in which the enclave dwelt. He had walked into the forest in order to find privacy whilst he dealt with certain bodily functions, and after a few minutes in the trees the others in the camp had heard an earth tearing shriek. Rushing towards the sound, the Virago came upon a clear path of tiny paw-prints, blood, and claw marks wherein the man had attempted to ding into something. They sprinted through the bloody path of broken foliage as fast as their legs would carry, following the occasional shriek and growing ever closer by the minute. At last they burst into a clearing in which the, not 30 feet away, they saw their still kicking and screaming comrade being dragged into one of the pockmarked mounds that the Mooskin dwelt within by a horde of the furry beasts.
They rushed forward in an attempt to save him, but they were seconds too late. He was dragged into a large opening that the creatures immediately resealed behind him, at which point the rest of the Moosking turned upon the Skyshadow party preventing any attempt at digging, even as his muffled cries seeped from the mound.
When it became clear that they could do nothing for their friend, the Eladrin retreated and regrouped back at the enclave. They gathered the whole of the tribe, calling in allies from several other enclaves across the mountains, the largest grouping of the Skyshadow to take place since coming to these mountains. It had taken over a day for them all to assemble, but when they did it was decided that the little beasts must pay. So departing with nearly four score adult Eladrin, the Skyshadow assaulted the mound of Mooskin that had devoured their comrade.
They killed the little beasts until the Mooskin retreated into their mound, then they created a large crescent shaped fire that blocked any escape from all but one direction. And on that side of the mound they began to dig. They dug and they dug, unearthing more and more of the subterranean complex and killing more and more of the beasts , until at last there were no more tunnels to dig out and the bones of their friend recovered.
So taking the remains back towards the enclave in order to give the dead the proper rites, the Skyshadow celebrated their victory whilst they mourned their departed. Unfortunately, they were all too preoccupied to notice a lone ape watching the whole proceedings from some distance away.
So that night, whilst all the victors drank and celebrated their vengeance upon the Mooskin for the killing of their friends, the forest took vengeance on them. In the darkest hours of the night, when many had gone to sleep and many others were drunk and tired, a strange series of whistling and blowing sounds started to drift in from the forests. The Skyshadow had not heard these noises before, and no shuffling of the forest told of anything approaching from beyond the clearing. But still, curious, they stopped what they were doing and listened. A few even defensively drew their weapons.
What came next was unimaginable for the Skyshadow. Simultaneously there was a sharp screeching sound that paralyzed all but the bravest of them with fear and three sides of the clearing erupted as dozens of massive apes came tearing into the camp. Chaos ensued, the Virago attempted to put up some sort of defense, but they were disorganized and drunk whilst the apes were in some kind of berserk frenzy and felled two or three clansmen with one blow. Men, women, even children were being slaughtered by the crazed beasts. All the while that infernal shrieking seemed to resound from the quills upon their back.
From above, in the canopy at the edge of the clearing, Absalom watched as his forest took vengeance upon the Skyshadow for daring to alter the natural balance. He had endowed the Gorand with a natural ability to gauge the balance of the rainforests in the Waltzing Mountains, and determine when it was necessary to act. So far, the Virago interlopers had only altered the ecosystem in minor ways, killing one or two Manta Beasts or felling a few trees. But the destruction of an entire Mooskin colony had been a categorical assault on the order of this place in which Absalom had allowed them to dwell. Thus, the internal mechanisms of the Gorand had driven them to seek retribution.
As he gazed at the mayhem, the God of Beauty saw dozens of the Fey being swatted like insects by its Gorand. The Virago were managing to put up some resistance, and he even saw one of the apes surrounded and repeatedly stabbed by a host of the anthropoids. However their victory was momentary as the massive patriarch came to the aid of its fellow, lifting one of the Skyshadow to his mask where an almost invisible line along the painted mouth parted to reveal a cavernous maw full of molars and fangs. Biting down, the Patriarch tore the Fay in half and sent blood spraying for meters.
The smart Skyshadow fled into the forest, taking the one route that was left open to them (for this was meant to be a lesson, not extermination). The others though attempted to stay and fight for some time, and as the bloodbath continued Absalom became more and more enamored with the struggle and violence. Every cut, every bite, every last muttering of the Virago captivated him, as did the bulging flanks and terrible fury of the Gorand.
So distracted was he by the violence below, that he did not notice as something deep within began to beat, slowly at first but then more rapidly. As the beating grew faster and stronger, something strange began to coalesce and form within the shrouded enigmatic energies of the God of Beauty. Only when the beating became so loud that the forest trees around him began to shake and reverberate with its pulse did Absalom notice something was wrong. He attempted to force whatever this alien artifact was out of his body, but he found that it clung to his form and seemed to eat up his energy.
The more Absalom struggled to free himself, the stronger it seemed to grow and the more substantial it became. In a state of near panic, the God of Beauty suddenly had an idea. In a rush, he filtered the entirety of his form through the Masquerade that sat at the front. By this point, the object had become too substantial to pass through the mask, and so thudded against it and then began to fall once separated from the life giving energy field.
Absalom got one good look at the object as it fell into the struggle below. It seemed to be an egg, like those he had seen seemingly so long ago amidst the company of the other Gods. But this one, rather than being gaily decorated and fancifully alluring instead was riddled with cracks and small burn marks as if touched by fire……
0PP Ascend Graxith
"AHA!" shouted the Queen as the Ero stumbled away, "Another clue!"
She rushed forward to examine the spot.
"Hmm... this dobbit just disappeared... and the King is a gigadobbit... and the thing that just disappeared before our eyes was a dobbit... and King Dobbit is a... Gigadobbit..." she paused for a moment to ponder these new developments, "Hmmm, I wonder."
She snapped her fingers as if an idea had just come to her.
"Syreene! And Syreene's crazy voices!" she exclaimed, "Is there any relation... between dobbits and gigadobbits? I never got that? Are they, like, just really big dobbits, grown up dobbits, what? Are they daddy dobbits perhaps? Because that would be mildly sexist..."
She was interupted in her ramblings by the arrival of Sil.
"Egads!" excalaimed the Monarch, "Maggie, quick, get a blanket or something to cover this horrible tumor! It is offending my royal sensibilities!"
Syreene blinked at The Monarch's quantum leap of deductive reasoning. "Oh great, the creepy bug-thing." the goddess coughed and tried again, her forced smile gone now, a frown much more visible. "Greetings, Seffa. You do not know me, but we have met before. And is that... your master I presume?"
A small crackle of lightning heralded the arrival of a swarm of myconids. They looked quite startled, and rapidly fled into the surrounding forests. They fit in quite well with The Monarch's mushroom gardens.
"Something is very, very wrong here." Syreene stamped her foot into the ground, but instead of accenting her point, her dainty foot entered the earth, sinking in up through the calf, causing her to flail about before falling into a cluttered heap.
"I'm... stuck?" Syreene pulled at her leg, but the appendage remanied stubbornly stuck, lodged in... the goddess was not sure quite what.
Caltabactos turned into a giant hand again, and crawled up to the Spring goddess on his digits, and wrapped around her slender legs. He heaved upward trying to free her from the... whatever that she was stuck in.
The Skyshadow Clan was sorely diminished by the unexpected Gorand assault. Some asked the Devilfur clan for help, but when the rival tribe learned what had preceded the assault, they turned their backs. To so callously slaughter the sacred Mooskin? He who had been taken had lost fairly to the rigors of the wilds. Such was life. To take offense at such natural occurrences was insanity.
While one band of Skyshadow vowed to rebuild and make Keneu, a bloodfeud, upon the wilds of their homeland itself, another, wiser faction splintered, seeking a new home, one untainted by the memories of the mooskin and skyshadow slaughters.
They called themselves the Earthwarders, and they held the seemingly mystical Gorand as the most sacred of the mountain's creatures.
Syreene came flying from the ground with an audible pop, and immediately small metallic creatures rushed forth. They made a beeline for The Monarch, lunging at the goddess' jewelry, clasps, and buttons -- anything metal.
For her part, Syreene and the giant hand went tumbling head over... hand until they landed in a sprawl, the lady goddess somewhat on top of the naked groaning god of change. Syreene winced, then patted Caltabactos' chest fondly. "Thanks. You make a great landing cushion too."
She stood up, yanked Caltabactos standing, and then returned to... a hole? Small and violet-black, it gaped, small and unbearably... angry. Syreene started to pinch the hole close. "This is not the first hole like this I've seen. I'm beginning to get a bad feeling about this plane."
Caltabactos slowly approached a small hole, and put a finger inside of it. He felt a strong jolt, and immediately yanked it out, his finger turning a charred black. His white hair stood up from the static shock he had received.
"Ah, hot, hot, hot! I remember seeing a hole like this before. When I made the eroes... hmm... except I never tried sticking my finger in it."
The egg began to shudder violently and from the cracks in the egg a red light pulsed. Then with a large pulse of energy the egg split completely in half, sending out a shock wave that toppled trees for a couple miles around.
From the egg a humanoid appeared, he started to grow until he was around five and a half feet tall and as wide as two men. His form was covered in muscle and thick hair. He dropped to the group with a force that caused the mountain he was on to crack away from the other mountains and send it plummeting into the waters of the crater below, blowing the excess water out over the sides of the crater and into the lands beyond. After all the water came to a standstill the new humanoid pulled his crest of orange hair back to place and stood. Despite the plummet most of the mountain was still intact, and all but a few hundred feet at the top was underwater.
"Much better." Exclaimed the Godling who then looked up at the Waltzing mountains again with a shiver "A shame I had to damage the range to get down to the ground though." With that he caused new plant live to grow on the mountain tip, and rivers to sprout out of the crater into the ocean to the north, keeping the new Island from flooding over the next time it rained.
Meanwhile in Culthet the small pieces that broke off of the Waltzing mountains rained down around the floating Aerie. These include plants, small animals, and the smallest of the pieces of rock that broke off (Nothing bigger then a watermelon but a decent amount of it).
-1 PP Mold Land: Drop the mountain into the Crater bellow.
-1 PP Nourish: Cause plants to grow to replace the ones lost by the fall and the resulting waves.
-1 PP Mold land: Cause a river to drain the crater and keep the water at a stable level below the rim. (roughly one hundred meters below the rim)
Itja-Rek coughed as a large wave swamped the island and him, filling his open mouth with water. His nerves already on edge from Aaviz' unexpected entrance, he glared at the water and said.
"What, I suppose YOU have a way to solve my problems?"
Itja-Rek looked for a long moment at the water, half-expecting a response. It would complete the insanity of this place to have the very waters talking back when questioned.
But of course, there was no reply. Shrugging, he turned back to Aaviz.
"Well, thats the optimal idea, yes, but trying to cull enough souls to replenish my collection myself would be a full-time job, and I do not have nearly enough time to both replenish my souls and do the other tasks which I would prefer to do. I refuse to be demoted to some glorified scavenger, hovering over the dying to snatch their souls when they try to escape."
Itja-Rek looked out over the waves towards the Hive, where the surviving Trilobites were making their way up and into one of the tunnels.
"Plus," he said darkly, "I sometimes wonder if there will be any souls to collect when all is said and done."
Rapidly beginning to write into the air, leaving pale glowing calculations and rough drawings in the air, he took on an even more excited tone than usual. "Yes, of course, the best solution to something that needs to be done but you can't do it yourself. Build a machine that will scour the world, gathering and harvesting the spirits you need, returning them to you so you can regain your energy. I built a machine that harvested plants once. It was very efficient, able to gather all sorts of plants very very rapidly, but then, it wasn't very discriminate. Sure, it brought me the food I wanted, but it was bringing me weeds and trees and stuff as well. I even found a cow inside of it once, which totally ruined all the plants it had harvested. But maybe something like might be able to solve your problems, or at least help you think your own way through them. Myself, I have a hard time thinking through my problems. I tend to get sidetracked by other things then I forget what I was talking about or even what problem I was trying to solve."
"Yes, I had already reached that conclusion. I was just trying to think of the right form for the thing I wish to create."
Starting a drawing of a physical form, he stopped, blinking for a minute. "Where was I? Oh yes, your soul harvester thingy. Anyways, I was thinking, my machine was too bulky. It'll attract all sorts of attention and it can't hide very well, so things it's coming to take the soul of might just run away or dodge it. It needs to be able to sneak up on it's victims, so it should probably be all black and shadowy, and able to walk through stone and stuff, alot like us. And it should definitely have a mind, rather than simply programming, that way it can be careful about what it takes the soul from and so it knows that it's supposed to sneak up on people, rather than simply charging out of the bushes straight towards it."
Continuing his drawing, picking up the pace, a huge grin spread on his face. "Yes, yes, this design will definitely work, it certainly has al the qualities needed in a soul harvester. But them, it has no real way to defend itself, and there are certainly lots of creatures out there that might not want to have their soul harvested to feed a spirit god, so it'll definitely need magic, and maybe even a nice large weapon to defend itself. Maybe a scythe, something that'll let it strike terror into it's prey, or something, I don't know. I'm not very good with weapons and such, and I don't really understand the idea of fear. What's there to be afraid of, I always say, you know? Only fear. after all, and if only fear is there to be afraid of, as long as I don't understand fear, I can't really be afraid."
STanding back to look at his finished design, he waved his hand and started rapidly erasing all the previous calculations by wiping his hand over them. "What do you think?"
She gazed at the hole simply to give herself something to look at in order to ease the steadying. As she did so, she thought she saw something slip through it, invisible to the others. A dark something. Something she had seen before.
"Oh dear, I think..." but she stopped herself, biting her lip. This was no silly tea party or trivial missing dobbit. Major implications were settling upon her like a fine mist. That was no ordinary shadow slinking through the gap. The Queen had, by happenstance, stumbled across a fundamental flaw. A flaw she would have to correct.
If the dead were flitting out of the world to... no, she could not consider the consequences. So she put on a brave face and smiled for the other. It seemed the Age of Death was upon them. How lovely, and before tea-time too.
Looking around, he finished erasing his work, then glanced around. "What do I do now?"
The Masquerade darted back and forth with a quizzical expression as Absalom attempted to reacquire the strange egg which had dropped out of his sight. It only took a moment, for a strange red glow that was not akin to the natural light of the Waltzing Mountains rainforest nor the fires of the Skyshadow, encampment drew his vision. For a single moment, he caught the impression of yet another humanoid form, though this one appeared to be far wider in nature than even the plump one so long ago at the Triskellion.
Before Absalom could see more, there was a resounding grumbling and shattering noise split the air accompanied by a gigantic rush of wind. The ground beneath the God simply vanished, there one moment and gone the next. Where mere seconds before a verdant jungle had nestled about the God and a vicious bloodbath had been unfolding below, now there was only empty air.
Momentarily stunned, Absalom quickly reacquired his wits just in time to hear the rush of water and perceive a gigantic wave crash through the surroundings around the lake. Looking down, the God of Beauty saw a massive desolate rock sitting amidst the waters below. The God began to rush towards the object, and as he approached he came to realize that the desolate rock was actually the mountain that he had floated above mere seconds before!!! Except, now it was largely underwater and the portion above the surface was barren.
As he approached closer, the dirt began to be covered as the forest, fuelled by some strange energy, began to rapidly grow back into place. Still, as he descended closer and the meters ticked away he could see the bodies of all the creatures that had lived on the mountain begin to float to the surface, and a strange sensation began to well up deep inside. Burning, akin to pain yet strangely different, consuming outrage permeated Absalom’s form. Fury realized the God….
Fury was welling up inside the Deity, fury that someone would dare to transgress his very body, fury that someone would dare disturb the intricate synchrony of the Watlzing Mountains, but most of all fury at the meaningless, thoughtless, UGLY waste of life!!!! Rage, white hot rage overwhelmed all semblance of natural thought in Absalom’s mind!!! He would have vengeance, terrible righteous vengeance!
And so, the second the stout being came into sight, a terrible screeching that assaulted the senses and disoriented the mind tore through the air accompanied by a massive strike of lightning that singed the air, arcing directly from the ethereal body of Absalom towards the offender!!! And the Masquerade, previously always creating crude faces that mimicked the emotional reactions of others, was now curled into a terrible visage that violated the very air around it. So anathema to the very nature of Mishway was that mask, that it began to tear at the very fabric of the plane.
Cuthlet (Of course, where else would the Mother be? Honestly, if you're still reading this little bracketed text, I admire your tenacity. Especially if you're a Mishway god, lord knows we all sometimes skim over posts that don't involve us. Still reading? Come on, get down to the main post already! I promise you're not missing anything... or are you? The meaning of life is- damn, out of time, oh well)
It seemed there was no-one else around anymore, at least that was paying attention to the Mother... it was truly a shame. She had wanted to make another thing as a part of the collective, but she supposed making something for the sake of making it, even as part of the community, was somewhat selfish. Creations should be made with the good of the Hive and the Children in mind, not merely to feel a part of something larger.
Hm, now there was a thought... perhaps the Mother should attempt to do something for the betterment of everyone, even without their aid? But what could she make? Perhaps... the swamps that the Ordrek had made drew everyone in, and made them get along. Karak's contest, creating the naga, it had all spanned from his action. Perhaps a similar action might foster more community, and create more interesting creatures? The Itja-Rek had said something about how land was not necessary, and that they should create more in the ocean... maybe she should take his advice.
Shuddering, the Mothers carapace shifted to that of a water beetle rather than her usual greenish, softer kind... hopefully this would prevent the water that usually stung her so from... well, stinging her so. Scuttling forward, the Mother waded into the water, then entered the ocean proper, swimming into the deeps with powerful kicks of her leg segments.
It was so empty... there were creatures to be sure, but apart from the islands there was... nothing to build off of. No places for plants to grow, no places for creatures to thrive, unless you counted the very very bottom so far off that it was dark and cold and threatened to crush her into one of the ants she had created! No, what they needed was... what was the term... shallower water. Water that could have plants, and animals, and children.
Mustering her fear of the infernal pressure beneath her, the Mother dived, dived, dived, until she got to the very bottom. Thrusting her legs into the earth, she heaved, and pulled, until finally the bottom of this section of sea simply cracked away, and allowed her to pull a pillar of earth up, and up, and up, until it finally stopped short of the surface of the ocean, creating a disc of earth shooting up from the deeps below. Geographically speaking, it was East of Ordarak-Rek, close enough to swim to with a little effort, or boat to for those who weren't aquatically challenged.
This patch of water covered earth... the Mother thought she might call it The Shallows following her own naming conventions... the Mother couldn't help but think it was a little too boring. Surely a slightly shallower patch of ocean would not inspire her fellow Mothers! Oozing out small... polyps, she thought she'd call them from her shell, the polyps took root in the bare sea floor, before promptly erupting into a veritable jungle of colorful plants... no animals... perhaps these things were both?
And so, The Shallows were created, and upon it a forest of coral was grown.
2PP - Mold Land - The Mother creates The Shallows, a large slab of land in the ocean that, as it's name suggests, it significantly more shallow than the land around it.
1PP - Nourish Land - The Mother creates a coral forest that more or less encompasses the entirety of the Shallows, give or take some bare patches and clearings.
[3/6]
Itja-Rek did not have to wait long. Soon his Reaper had returned, now sporting a large woven basket. Even from a distance, Ijta-Rek could hear the souls calling out from within it.
"Here, here. Give it to me." the god said eagerly, reaching out for the basket.
"And what of my reward?" Susan asked, coming to a stop just out of reach.
"Yes, yes." Itja-Rek muttered, mentally opening the spigot of Bliss. As the Reaper's eyes glazed over, he quickly grabbed the basket and opened it, taking souls by the handful and shoving them into his form, filling in some of the more crucial areas. But it was still not enough. He needed many more baskets to replenish him.
He reached out and tapped the Reaper on the back of the neck, shutting off the flow of his power to her brain.
"Bwuh?" She stammered after a few moments, trying to organize her thoughts once more.
"I need more souls."
"Buh... Buht... But you promised that..."
"If you did the job for me, I promised it. The job isn't finished. Consider that but a taste of what is to come... I can provide you with much more pleasure than that."
And so off went the Reaper once more, returning after a time with a new basket, enjoying some time in bliss and then going to get more.
Eventually, Itja-Rek was nearly complete once more. He imagined that one more basket should do the trick, so he was somewhat surprised when the Reaper returned without one. He took a moment to look over the Naga as she approached. Gone were the lustrous scales of a naga in its prime, replaced by a dull, oily sheen. Her previously clear eyes were now puffy, shot through with faintly glowing blue lines. Gone too was much of the naga's mass, her body looking more and more like a skeleton with skin and scales wrapped over it. He could see the bones of her vertabrae shoving up her skin like teeth, all up and down the length of her back. Somewhere deep within himself, some of his souls expressed sadness over what had happened, and Itja-Rek, on some level, had to agree. But what he had needed to do was done. For the past few rounds, the Naga formerly known as Susan hadn't even spoken, just waiting mutely while the god took the souls and released the restriction.
But this time, the Naga did open her mouth, toungue flicking over lips to try and give them some moisture. Still, they cracked and bled as she said
"You must come with me. I have found something most odd."
Curious, Itja-Rek followed her out of the Tomb and down the side of Wenet...
~Culthet~
The water felt around the ground, making its way towards the one who summoned it when a very odd sensation occurred. The air around it vibrated in a peculiar way, sending in turn barely tactable sensations rippling through the water. It felt as if there was a meaning behind the vibrations, but they were too weak to discern. Air to water wasn't a very effective means of transmission, the water decided, so it would need to improve the process.
A dream or a memory surfaced in its mind, a phantasm of what might work. Trusting its intuition, the water willed two large, triangular ears of water to rise from itself. Ah, that was better, it could hear now. A strange sensation, to be sure.
Immediately its new ears were pelted by a cacophony of words. It was as if a babbling brook had been given a very loud voice. The water shrank back, unsure for a moment. Well, it hadn't come for the one with the waterfall of words, so it turned to the other essence and approached… Alas! It left in a hurry, leaving the water with that unnecessarily verbose one.
It would have followed but it had taken the water quite some time to feel its way to it in the first place. And there was that other essence still here. The one who had summoned the water had called that other essence Aaviz... was that a name? Probably.
If vibrations in the air could carry words from the essences to the water, perhaps the same could be true in reverse? The water vibrated itself wildly, trying to send greeting vibrations into the air and to this Aaviz. No good. Transmission from water to air was just as ineffective as from air to water. But then how did these essences do it?
Maybe they had something like the water's ears to help amplify their vibrations? But what? No illusions of memory rose to guide the water. Well, perhaps direct investigation would solve the matter?
The water rolled forward and splashed into this Aaviz, covering it in water as it felt out the surface of the thing (having no eyes to see with, touch and hearing were the only options open to the water). Even as it was submerged, Aaviz kept sending vibrations. The water gurgles a bit as it tickled. Wait, there were bubbles come from the thing, and these bubbles had the vibrations. Ah, there it was, they were coming from an orifice in the thing.
Retreating from Aaviz, which was left dripping wet, the water thought for a moment. A mouth? Yes, that might work nicely. The water tried to form itself into the proper shape, but no luck, it was too complex for it to be held. But what if... yes.
There was another side to the water's nature that it hadn't paid much attention to. The water had to become more than just water to obey the summoner, it had to become powerful. Tapping into that, the water brought an idea from its imagination into reality, shaping flesh and bone and teeth and tongue.
"Ah," the water said through its new mouth, "this seems like it will work. Can you hear me now?"
Satisfied, the water sent an ounce of power into this mouth, to make it permanent. As it let the idea sustain itself, there was a series of popping sounds quickly followed by several splishing sounds. The water felt new creatures come into existence, like its own mouth, and they slithered away. Hmm, a side effect it would seem.
A few of these things slithered into holes in reality and were gone from Culthet.
***
~Mishway~
A dobbit tentatively munched and scrunched upon a deliciously tasty bit of vegetation.
Unseen by the dobbit, an Orionid stalked it, eager to munch and scrunch upon that deliciously tasty bit of dobbitness.
Unseen by the Orionid, a Mouther stalked it. It didn’t know how to munch, it didn’t know how to scrunch, it couldn’t taste if the Orionid was deliciously tasty, nor did it know what a bit of Orionidness was. But that didn’t stop it.
The Dobbit bolted, the Orionid started. The Mouther flopped, then it chomped, then it was gone.
The Mouther slithered away through the vegetation. It felt full and wanted to find a place to nest.
0PP - Shape God: Harkon forms ears, the better to hear you with.
1PP - Spawn Beast: Mouthers. Harkon creates mouthers, heroic tier monsters. An adult is roughly 7 to 9 feet long and about 2 to 3 feet wide. They are vaguely triangular, with pale green skin that is webbed with veins. Their only real feature is a large mouth at the "front. Stats and pictures will be posted to the wikia shortly.
0PP - Shape God: Harkon uses a Mouther for its own mouth, the better to eat you with... I mean, speak to you with.
6pp remaining
Grimnit recoiled from the the screeching allowing the first lightning bolt only a glancing blow. He shook his head vigorously and shut out the sound then turned to his attacker and threw himself through the air at it. His hand thrust in the opposing creature, and he was shocked to find it went through, connecting as if the creature were made of some sort of liquid. This threw off his balance and sent him tumbling through the air to the other side of the god.
He quickly spun around and lashed out with another punch, this time aiming for the mask he noticed when he attacked the first time.
"What did you go and do that for you? You really should warn somebody when you plan on giving somebody a big sloppy wet hug you know. Just common courtesy and all that. I wouldn't build you into machine without asking you. Though, I suppose I might bash your head in with a rock. I did that to Itja-Rek once, but then, he was talking to himself and all confused, and I pulled a black bitey thing out of this head that calls itself Hulna something or another, and he did thank me for it afterwards, so I suppose it was a good thing I smashed him over the head with a rock. BUt still, the point stands that it you are all wet and watery, you really shouldn't be hugging people without some kind of warning or something."
Straightening his hat, he reached out a hand. "My name is Aaviz, nice to meet you. What's yours?"
The sphere of power drove droplets of water off of Aaviz and into the air. Water called to water and the droplets rejoined with it.
"My name is Aaviz, nice to meet you. What's yours?" the talking one said.
A name? Water remembers, and so a great many names floated to its mind but none of them quite fit. There was one, though, that it liked more than the others. Perhaps it was what someone had once called the waters? Or perhaps it was just a half forgotten wish of a dream.
"Call me Harkon Armal, if you so wish. Or do not call me that, if you do not so wish," the water said in turn. "As for hugging you, how else was I supposed to figure out how you made all this noise? And until I figured that out, how could I have asked for permission?"
Harkon thought for a moment... "why should I ask for permission?
Taking a deep breath, he didn't even wait for an answer. "Oh yes, it was a fun time, a very fun time. I had just finished escaping from being chained to the moon for pissing off these four gods. Oh yes, they were very angry. They chased me for years and years and years, and then once they caught me they chained me to the moon. And you know, being part of the moon wasn't too bad at first. THere were these fun cat people with backwards hands, and they though I was a brilliant source of conversation and knowledge about the world below and I could watch and see everything that was going on, but after a while, it got boring so I slipped out and left."
"I travelled through the nothingness for the longest time before arriving on a new world. And what a world it was. All desert and sand and rock as far as the eye could see. And it never had a night time, which is understandable, seeing as how it had four or five suns all floating around it. But anyways, I went to this world and I explored for a bit and got really really thirsty. Eventually I cam to this great big palace building and I found a bottle of water inside. Now, I was thirsty, so I figured surely there wouldn't be any harm, so I drank the water. Come to find out, it was the god emperor of the people living there, and boy were they angry. Turns out their entire race was composed of water and that they went into bottles when it was time to sleep as a way of keeping themselves all in one place. They kept trying to cut me open to get him out and attacking me. Well, eventually I got him out of myself and I apologized profusely. Seeing as how I apologized for being so rude, he was decent enough to allow me to stay for a few years before I moved on with my journeys."
Looking up and glancing around, he shrugged. "Where was I? Something about not asking permission being rude, wasn't it. water guy?"
~Culthet~
"There is no moon, as you can plainly feel," Harkon explained to Aaviz, "Smoothly, then, you could not have been chained to it. I must conclude that you are either confused or lying. If you are confused, I cannot trust your assessment of hugging, as you put it. And if you are lying, I likewise cannot trust your assessment."
The water thought for a moment before adding, "Also, why is this 'rude' thing something to avoid?"
Glancing upwards, he shrugged. "I hadn't noticed there wasn't a moon here. Probably something to do with this only being the partial fragment of a world that died sometime in the past and somehow came back to life, which is definitely something I should look into investigating, seeing as how it might provide some really interesting facts on the nature of life the universe, the multiverse, and everything else, but then I have to find the time for such an extensive research project, not to mention the energy and resources, all of which are in short supply at the moment, so I suppose I'll have to pass on it and relegate it to another time and another place. But anyway, no, it wasn't here. Of course it wasn't here since this world has no moon. I was on another world, a long long journey from here. I'm not a native you see, no, I was just passing by when this spirit guy reached into the otherness and pulled me in. I haven't tried to leave yet, though I suppose I could if I wanted to, but I don't really have a reason to, so I'll try when I'm ready."
A group of mish were quietly sitting about having cups of leaf-tea.
"I say, would you pass the pot?"
"I do believe I can do that for you"
"Why thank you, kind sir."
"Not at all a problem, my dear lady."
"Oh, could you also- What are you...?"
The mish who had been about to ask for a bit of bread followed the gaze of her companions back towards her glass in time to see a large centipede finish squeezing out of it and scurrying away into the Golden Forest. The mish threw her glass up in the air and jumped to her feet, followed moments later by the other Mish as all of their cups began spewing insects: huge, otherworldly insects. They were so distracted by the insects pouring out of the cups before them that they forgot about the cup that had started it all, which had landed behind the little group. From it, a black, pudding-like substance was oozing out, corroding the fine teacup as it came. Eventually, it was all there, and it stretched itself upwards to its full height, measuring nearly eight feet in height and easily that much in width.
The Mish, curious to know where the sun had gone, turned around just in time to see the Writhing Blackness, called from Culthet and mutated by Otherness descend upon them, consuming each of the small topiary-men and then moving on, burbling happily, into the woods.
"Why do people avoid rude people? Also, you didn't feel like you were from another world. Let me try again," Harkon said, mere moments before one again covering Aaviz.
"No, you feel like this world."
No response.
Harkon realized he was still on Aaviz and so he slide off and moved a bit away before responding. Ah, but his mouth was still on Aaviz's shoulder. It flopped off and rolled along the ground before Harkon got it back.
"As I was saying, no, you feel like this world. Are you sure you didn't imagine being somewhere else?"
...
"Wait, was that rude of me? Is that the sort of thing I am now, rude? Rude and not ginger?"
Ginger? That was an odd thing to say. Water remembers... maybe it had just remembered something from long ago? Or a dream, perhaps.
Straightening his hat, he nodded. "Oh, yes, I am very sure. As I said, the spirit guy pulled me into this world from the beyond, where I was traveling. I've been too many many places and seen many many things. Such as moons, and foreign gods; water people and woolly mammoths; dragons and orcs; flowers and trees; and of course, my favorites,giant machines and intelligent robots. Seeing as how none of these things exist on this world, which isn't surprising, considering it's a fragmented ruin, I can say quite certainly that I have been to other places and am definitely not from this world."
"Hat? What's a hat? Let me feel," Harkon said. He washed over Aaviz again and came away with a pocket watch. "Odd thing. It feels like it is of this world too. Why does it tick? And how do you know you have been to other places? It feels like falsehood, to me."
The Queen rose to standing.
"I feel... different..." she remarked, "Something is... wrong..."
She placed a palm on her jawbone, right at the back, a slowly drew her hand across her face, tracing the jawline with her palm, letting the fingers brush against her cheekbone, her nose. She didn't look different, as far as she could tell. She mimiced the same motion with her other hand on the other side, but kept going, moving both hands down her throat and down along her body. She felt her chest, then her waist and finally her hips with those slow-moving pale hands, then stopped. She clenched fistfuls of skirt and stared down at her hands. She swished the skirts around a bit as if testing their movements. A lock of hair fell down across her face and she slicked it back with one quick movement. Nothing seemed different. It was just this undeniable sensation that she was missing something. She cleared her throat before speaking.
"It must just be the King, I miss him ever so much," said the Queen, "Yes, that must be it, it's the empty space beside me I'm feeling."
She closed her eyes for a moment and knew that wasn't it. She had a sudden, fleeting impression of flitting shadows snapped up by greedy teeth, wrapped up in scaly coils before she opened her eyes once more on the gentle hills of Mishway.
Harkon toyed with Aaviz's pocket watch for a moment before dropping it. "Wait, you aren't usually wet? Aren't you made of water?"
Harkon tried to feel out this idea, but a force field prevented him from approaching. If he had shoulders, he would have shrugged. But he didn't, so he sank into the earth, leaving his mouth behind. The ground beneath Aaviz gushed forth a spring out of which the god arose and once more enveloped him.
From the other side of the force shield Harkon's mouth spoke. "You sure seem wet to me. You must just be dense water, yes?"
***
~Mishway~
As the Queen opened her eyes to the gentle hills of Mishway a Mouther happened to fall from the sky, transported from an unknown place. Though it had a large mouth, that mouth wasn't large enough to get around the Queen's rather impressive hairdo. So it flopped around, unable to get off, but unable to eat the thing in its mouth either. The creature was perplexed, or at least as perplexed as it could be given its incredibly primitive node of nervous tissue.
The dumbstruck exarch watched the strange events unfold, the other gods freaking out over what seemed to be a hole in... well a hole in space? Reality? It was as if existence was a bolt of fabric and something had poked it, puncturing it's wholeness. Slung across her shoulder, Sil's massive coccoon poked her uncomfortably. She laid it down on the ground close to the remaining gods and looked around confusedly. "Hrm... I wonder where Sonnet went. I was hoping we could sit together. Oh hey! Caltabactyguy! What's going on? There's all this weirdness!" She ran over to him and grabbed his arm, giving him a sly look. "Have you been making crazyness again?"
A few seconds later a strong wave of thought flooded the meeting place from the coccoon. "Others... other gods. I say greetings to you. One of you I have met, Caltabactos. Others I have not. I am Siliis. Forgive my newer look. I needed a new egg. Now I can re-begin my development. Now I can become..." Rather than describe his final form, he sent an image to the gods of the grove. A glimmering insectoid form, beautiful and regal in demeanor with a carapace of deep violet and vibrant yellow traced with gold. A crown stood upon his head, his compound eyes glimmering like emeralds. "Once I am can leave this body, I shall be finished. In the meanwhile though I must remain. Please, what do you know is happening?"
Flying up and bit and surrounding himself with a sphere of force to keep this annoying water away, he continued. "Though, I suppose I am water. A sort of dense water, but water none the less. They do say bodies are made up of roughly seventy percent water, though I've never strained one out to find out for sure or not, just sort of assumed that it was correct. But even if I am seventy percent water, I don't particularly care for having other water added to me, since it makes me feel soggy and wet and uncomfortable."
Ordek left the god, going down to the surface of Ordarak-Rek. He remained inconspicuous by enlarging his body to appear merely as a fog that covered the island. Looking around, he saw that the naga were getting along well... a little too well. It was time to mix things up, not just for the naga, but for everything.
Looking up, he saw the continuous storm that covered the world of Culthet. It was a strong storm, with mighty winds, but the races here had adapted to live in the storm. Perhaps he should make it stronger...
But he would need help. So, he sent out a call, along with a link for a god to follow, To any god who may be interested, I have an idea that may... interest... many of you. Meet me at the island that the naga inhabit and I will give you the details.
"Where are.......Oh"
He moved down into the mist, and began to flick bits of it about with a tentacle.
"What is this, Ordek?"
"I must depart for now," said the Queen, never letting her gaze waver from the thing which thrashed and struggled in her iron grip, "Margaret, if you would be so kind as to remain here, I shall return to fetch you."
And with that she was off. A swirl of her skirts later, she was crouching on an abandoned hillock in the shade of a vast old tree. With her disheveled hair and ripped clothing she made quite the bedraggled figure. She sneered down at the thing in her hands.
"Let's see what you've got to show me," whispered the Queen, and in that instant, her face looked more twisted and avian than anything else and a yellowish gleam sparked in her eyes.
She raised her hand above her head, and in the fading light, her long painted fingernails looked like harsh, cruel talons. In a savage movement, she brought her hand slashing down, ripping into the creature's flesh. Flecks of blood and gore splattered her dress and dotted her porcelain flesh as she tore into the thing. It fought against the pain at first, but she dug her hand in deeper and grasped the small, frantically beating heart. As she ripped it out and tossed it carelessly over her shoulder, the thing gave one last shudder, and then was still. But the Queen knew better. she could sense one last bit of life squirming away inside. So she thrust her hand back in and seized the flitting shadow. The soul. She ripped it out and gazed dispassionately down at it. She discarded the body, it offered nothing to her now, and held up the struggling soul.
"Well, well, well, what have we here?" crooned the Queen, her voice high and scratchy, "Where did you come from my vicious little friend?"
Her face twisted into a wicked grimace when it did not answer.
"I know someone's been stealing my souls, and if you won't tell me, well, I'll just have to find out on my own, won't I?" and with those words she dug her cruel talons into the thing's soulstuff and tore at it, ripped the soul to shreds and let the pieces fall to the ground.
She gazed down at the maimed bit of soul that remained and her lip curled.
"Get your pathetic self back to whence you came," snarled the Queen, "And when that soul-stealer finds your mangled soul, he'll know what he's dealing with, now go!"
And with a swirl of her many skirts, she was off, marching under the canopy of trees. And the mangled soul slipped away, back to its world. And the Queen did not look back.
Harkon, still enveloping Aaviz (for he hadn't left this time), rather enjoyed the sensation of rising up from the ground. Earth was such a boring element. But water remembers. Steam, yes that was it, steam could fly above the earth too. The water god turned itself to steam as an experiment, filling the little force sphere that contained himself and Aaviz, filling it until one couldn't see one's own nose, assuming one could see and had a nose to be seen.
"How can wet be uncomfortable?" he asked, but didn't have time to wait for an answer. There was a strange something calling gods. Maybe the one who had summoned him was a god, and would go to wherever that was? The god of water pushed against the force shield, dragging Aaviz along with him as he went searching for this "island." Unfortunately Harkon had no eyes to see with and the air all felt the same to him, so he wandered lost.
The god's mouth trailed after them, pulled along by the god's unconcious might. "Say," it said, "do you know where this eye-land thing is?"
The god and exarch traveled for some time, walking through the tunnels that Karak had made beneath the Tomb. Well, Itja-Rek walked. The Reaper more... slumped through the tunnel, eyes darting towards each fork and finding the proper path. The god of Tombs had no real idea why he was being led through these particular tunnels. As far as he knew, there was barely any life down here, much less anything intelligent enough to be worth adding to his form. In the shadows beyond the light he was projecting, he saw some of the Rock Men cowering against the walls, too stupid to understand what was happening, yet still gripped with the primal terror of beholding a God.
Itja-Rek was about to ask his Reaper how much further it was going to be when the naga stopped and turned to face the wall, pointing silently with her finger. The god knelt down to look at what she had found... a small gap in reality, similar to what he had felt long ago just before the birth of Aaziz. This one, however, was not sucking him in. No, instead, as he watched he saw several souls both slip in and slip out of the tiny hole, their souls distending to fit through the narrow opening.
"How very curious." he said, rewarding the naga by turning on the pleasure receptors in her brain once more. As the Reaper twitched and moaned, he turned his attention back to the hole. He grabbed hold of one of the souls that had slipped through from beyond and sent a small bit of power into it, resolving it into the image of what it had once been... a strange cat-like beast with a single large wing. It felt... different, somehow. Foreign. Not... right.
While he was still staring at the soul of the Manta Beast, the dismembered soul of the Mouther came through the opening, spewing thoughts of pain and rending by some unknown and supremely powerful force.
Itja-Rek's hand involuntarially spasmed at the strength of the soul's fear, inadvertently crushing the Manta Beast's soul into jelly. He wiped it off his hand and watched as it was sucked back into the hole and back to wherever it had come from.
~Culthet~
"Earth," Harkon asked, "in the ocean?! Ooooo, that annoying earth! Always butting in where it isn't wanted!"
The spherical god, now rejoined with its mouth, paced back and forth as steam in the air. It was good that Aaviz had his shell, as if not he would have found himself moistened again and again, as the godling wasn't paying attention to where it was going. Enraged, the lord of waters sent a blast of divine energy down below, hoping to destroy the earth. By dumb luck it hit Aaviz's shield and scattered. Wherever the power hit dry land, nothing happened. But where it hit the ocean, plants began to grow upon the drifting waves. Spurred on by divine energy, the plants grew rapidly, forming great solid mats that floated on the waves. These mats were the size of small islands and provided dry ground. Upon them other plants began to sprout, the general weak things of Culthet. But in the future real plants, real animals, would call this seamats homes.
The blast had, unfortunately, set Aaviz's force bubble a-spinning. Harkon went to cover it and continue dragging it with him as he went about his search for the one who summoned him, but the moment he touched it he was caught up in the spin. Unsure what he was to do, Harkon hung on. Alas, the spin shook water from his body until only his mouth was left, and that went flying through the air, unable to hold on without the rest of the body.
1pp Nourish - The Oceans of Culthet, creating "seamats," very small floating islands of plantmatter upon which other plants and animals can live. Occasionally the winds and waves of the world will push these mats together, forming decent sized islands, during which time animals and people can move back and forth, though these mega-seamats only last a few hours at best before they are scattered again. The plants of the mats themselves draw nutrients from the ocean, and the other plants living on them draw nutrients and potable water from the mats.
5pp remaining
Harkon's ears twitched this way and that. There seemed to be a voice, but he couldn't tell from where? The globe of water rolled this way and that, trying to see if he could feel who it was, but again no luck... though he did come across some snake thingies. The Naga, perhaps? Interesting build, he liked it. They seemed to move across land like a winding river. But still no speaker.
"Hello?" he said, "Am I the one who is visiting you? Who are you and where is here?"
"Enough!" Syreene was wary enough not to stomp her foot into the ground this time. But despite her stillness, the earth shook violently, upturning all of Poliphas' table settings, and causing eroes to fall from tries.
"Obviously, there is something inherently instable about this place. I shall have none of it!"
Syreene furrowed her brows, stretched out her arms and concentrated. The darkness around the edge of the tear seemed to waver, and then began to disperse, small fragments of darkness orbiting the goddess' hands as she worked. Slowly the void closed, but the darkness, the otherness remained, cloying and persistant, in a weird sort of malefic corona about the goddess, feeding on her doubts and fears.
Syreene tried to smile again. "There. All better."
PP Expenditure
-0PP Ascend God: Nerdzul / Daxos
The air about the stout Godling crackled and sizzled with ambient energy, radiating with heat from the lightning strike. But the simultaneous attack on his senses and form had not succeeded, for after staggering from the blow for a moment the scarred being launched itself through the air attempting to grab at Absalom.
Fortunately, the God of Beauties form could was not so consistent or easily defined as his opponents, for the arms merely passed through and clenched at nothing, as if one tried to seize a flowing river. Emerging from the other side of Absalom’s cloudy body though, the God turned and struck a resounding blow upon the Masquerade, sending a thundering crack of power through the air that felled the nearest of the recently re-grown trees.
Absalom winced at the strength of the blow. Alabaster chipped and cracks appeared along the eyes of the mask’s eyes in response, and the artifact sank back far into the insubstantial energy of Absalom’s form, bringing the adversaries arm with it. Tendrils of solid matter stronger than granite suddenly materialized and wrapped about the stout scarred Godling’s extended arm, whilst others shot out and seized both his legs and torso in a vice like clamp.
Constraining his opponent so, Absalom launched the two intertwined Gods towards the southeast at speeds that surpassed the speed of sound. Smashing the other God into the hard earth of the southeast crater edge and dragging his flesh along the blistering earth, leaving a terrible scar in planes of Mishway. All the while, dozens of white hot knifes of plasma coalesced in Absalom’s form and stabbed into his opponent again and again and again.
1pp Mold Land: The Razor Canyon- A scarred and craggy canyon barren and devoid of life that stretches from the southeastern rim of the Crater Lake for some ways. This canyon is a scar in the earth from the two God's battle.
He said the last bit while pointing at Margaret, the egg-carrying side-kick. Margaret the currently-unimpaled sidekick. There was a look of panic on her face, and she took two steps back.
Caltabactos was about to advance toward her, when he saw the large (and nearly impossible not to notice) pillar. He looked at it in awe, completely forgetting about The Monarch's side-kick, and turned toward Syreene again, "Hey! Did you see that pillar? Who made that?"
"That was Poliphas, I think. I dimly remember him making something like that last summer." Syreene fidgeted, the darkness still enamored with her hands and face. Another Mishquake rocked the area, sending Eroes into the sky in fright. "Though if this chaos keeps up much longer, I feel we shall have more to worry about than missed tea-parties."
~Mishway, The Triskelion~
The reverberations of the plane sent Lynne Moon stumbling. The Archfey tumbled forwards, to land softly and soundly in Lord Star's arms. "This will just not do." He murmured to his lover. Lynne Moon allowed herself to be carried for a few steps, then slipped free, linking her arm in that of her Lord's. They walked in silence for a time. "We should do something about that." Lord Star nodded in agreement. "I shall summon my brothers. If you do the same with your sisters, I think between the six of us we might broker a solution." Lynne Moon nodded, they rounded a bend in the woods, and were gone.
"Don't worry, now," he swiftly walked up to the Spring goddess and held her hand in his. The darkness slowly began to creep up his own skin, blackening his entire right arm. The cold sensation from touching the darkness made him short of breath. This made Caltabactos smile. "Everything will be fine, Syreene, I'm sure of it."
With his unrestrained arm he started to crush the earth, tearing out everything except a glob of metal. He used the heat emanating off the other god to shape the metal, his hand burning and growing new skin almost simultaneously while he shifted it's grip and lengthened most of the metal.
His one free hand busy he did the only thing he thought reasonable and kicked out with all his might. His target was the mask but his stubby legs couldn't reach it. However this time as he kicked in the strike hit. The blow strike was unlike striking the ground of the mountain, more like hitting a river that slowly congealed around you.
Cuthlet
Now that this place had been made, and given character from the coral, perhaps it was time she... what was this? It felt as though her son who is a Mother was calling her... calling everyone, really. Perhaps she should answer his call... besides, it would be good to let the other Mothers know about this place.
Swimming back up to the surface, the Mother sprouted a pair of insectoid wings, before buzzing off toward the island where the Ordek and the other gods had gathered. Landing among them, the Mother retreated her wings back into her carapace, before shifting her aquatic beetle shell for her usual green tinted loveliness.
"Greeting the Karak, the Ordek," the Mother greeted the other Mothers. "And... the Strange Water Thing I Do Not Know. The Ordek, you called upon me?" the Mother asked. "I do admit I was preoccupied... perhaps my new project would interest you. I have created a new place, under the water but not of the deeps. But I am putting my own desires ahead of yours, what did you ask of me?"
Dimly, Itja-Rek heard Ordek's summons, and after a long look at the hole, turned to The Reaper.
"Watch this for me and let me know if anything interesting comes through."
He turned down the tap to his power to barely a trickle so the naga could concentrate enough to watch the hole and then sped out of the tunnels and down towards the meeting, arriving shortly after The Mother.
"Forgive my tardiness. I was preoccupied with the restoration of my form." He nodded to each of the gods in turn, pausing for a long moment at the last.
"I... do not believe that we have met, but... did you splash my feet earlier?"
~Mishway~
Darkness has always been there, lurking, hidden from the light, everywhere, pervasive yet aethereal, masking the truth from the eyes of mortals and some time even gods, it has witnessed acts of treachery and glory, watched over the greatest expressions of love, passion or hate, as a silent partner... No emotion was alien to the dark and yet it felt nothing, no tought, no pain, no desires, it simply was...
That day, however, for the first time the concept of self appeared, it begun to think, to feel the same sensation that it has only observed, but never experienced, the sleepless entity was awakened by something. It felt fear, doubt, its own as the ability to think was something unknown for the dark and the one of the gods of Mishway, afraid of the interference from the realms beyond...
"I was not always like this" it tought "I was different, before... Awake and yet unfeeling..." the dark wondered what caused that change in its own nature, its mind drifting among the consequences of such a thing, for now it could even move away from the notion that it has absorbed from the living... "From the day of my birth I was unable to feel, now I have such a power... Where does it come from?"
The still nameless dark, focused its tought, attempting to remember, another concept alien to it but turned natural after that fateful moment, it sought the origin of its sentience, finding it in the will of another, a creature of power and potential, unlike the creatures that lived among the threes or hidden under the earth. That being was unknown to the shadow and yet familiar, the one whose tought has given life to the dark, projecting its mind into the shades, a powerful mind, indeed, that rippled across all creation, for a moment at least…
The Shadow concentrated its will, alienating its mind for the myriad emotions of the ones it has watched over for so long, they was confusing now, discordant, but yet fascinating… It has sensed its creator, but yet it has to find himself, it was lost within its immense, yet limited form. It looked for the core of its being, the essence whose mind have been given to by the creator.
The living shadow moved, for the first time following its will alone, it wanted to feel more, fear, uncertainty, confusion and yet wonder, that’s what it felt, radiating from the creator being and the one who was holding her hand, trying to disperse the fear with its words “Will it work? Is the will enough to send such a strong feeling away…” Curious the dark flowed on the other god, still leaching on their toughts, feeding on the Spring Goddess senation with increased hunger, absorbing her fear and dubts and taking them as its own. Well fed the dark begun to grow, slowly forming a blanket around the two gods, hiding the world outside, with the uncertainty it brought, surrounding them with the safety that lies in the nothingness and yet turning the world outside, at least briefly into the unknown…
The dark simply stood there, watching, wondering if it should, somehow, attempt to commune with these two beings, “Shall I make myself known?” it tought “Will it dispel my own purpose? Or maybe knowing the dark is not enough to disperse it, as long as what it hides remains unseen…”
~Culthet~
"Ordek?" Harkon said, tasting the name in his mouth. It had a delicious sound to it, like the crashing waves of so long ago. "And Karak?" Another fine, watery name. It reminded him of cataracts... though he was saddened that all such things had left the world long ago. "Greetings to you I am..."
His words drifted away another essence approached and spoke. This one seemed to be much easier to sense... the essence of the other two felt dispersed, as if they weren't quite in one place but surrounding him. "Greetings to you as well. Let your not-knowing-of-the-water-thing discontinue, then, for I am..."
Cut off again, this time by a more familiar essence. Oh joys of greatest joys, the one who had summoned him approached. Forgetting the rest of them, Harkon approached it but restrained himself from washing over it, remembering what Aaviz had said about not everyone appreciating it (how else one was supposed to tell what a creature was like was beyond him).
"You could say that. I am rather familiar with your feet, and your tomb, and much else. Water remembers. Yes, water remembers... And water obeys. I believe you had asked something of me and or it? Yes, I remember you did. You said you had a problem for me to solve? Water hears and water obeys."
The sphere of water rippled a bit with excitement. This is why he had been called into being, after all.
"So, you come from the waters of Culthet itself? That is, to say the least, unexpected. Welcome to... the air, I guess. Ah..." Welcome to the air? Thats brilliant wordsmithing, Itja. Pull it together. This isn't anything stranger than what you've seen before.
Sensing the other god watching him curiously, the god of tombs continued. "Ah... do you have a name? As for what I asked you..." Can't quite tell him that I summoned him in anger... "Oh, Waters of Culthet, you are blown back and forth by the winds of this world-wide storm, you touch all things, see all things. Do you see the plight of the sentient races of this world, beset on all sides by dangers? The beasts of the land and sea stalk them, they war among one another, even the very sky and ocean sometimes turn against them... no offense to you of course. I summoned you because the preservation of these peoples is very important to my continued existence. Do you have any ideas as to how to keep them alive in this harsh world?"
~Culthet~
The water was pleased; with such an important task, he knew that this one was to be a trusted friend.
"Thank you, oh summoner. I am called," the water wobbled towards the other assembled essences so as to include them in his address, "Caltabactos."
... wait a minute, that wasn't right. Where did that name come from? A bubble rose from within the water god's form and burst to the surface with a sweet perfume of flowers in spring... or maybe fruit in the fall? It was hard to tell which, but clearly it wasn't from here.
"Urp. Excuse me. I meant to say that my name is Harkon Armal. Yes, that is my name."
"As for keeping things alive in this world, I would recom-"
Another bubble arose from nowhere. It was as if the fabric of reality had a pinprick in it; new water began to flow into the god's form. The pure waters of Culthet were a dull bluish grey, but a stream of vibrant bluish green water swirled around in the god's body, twisting and twining with his own. Water remembers, and these waters brought memories of a different place. As the mixed and mingled with the waters of this world, Harkon froze. A green haze began to float off his body and snake its way throughout the area. Out and out it came, deflating the god like a sack.
A voice emanated from this haze and it reverberated in the oceans:
Into one, betwine ye the two.
Part not they, or Chaos will rule.
The Way will strive
The Cult will rise
Fail for both! Pray, suffer the fool.
The haze slithered back into the god, reinflating the water. His form once again appeared to be nothing more than the pure waters of Culthet.
"-med paying a little more attention to the ecosystem. Life feeds on life, but there is so little life that even a single death to feed the life remaining is a catastrophic loss. A midget standing on the shoulders of a giant will reach higher than a giant standing on the shoulders of a midget. The life that exists now is a giant, the life that sustains them is a midget. These roles must be reversed." Harkon seemed to have not the slightest idea that anything odd had happened.
Itja-Rek tried to listen as the god began to reply, but was too distracted by the smells that the god had released. He had smelled that smell before... the errant wind that had blown across Ordarak-Rek not too long ago had smelled if not identical then very, very similar... flowers, his souls had told him the smell was of something called 'flowers'.
Of course, what happened next caught his attention. He watched in a mix of shock and confusion as the new god seemed to fill with something other than itself, which floated about saying some sort of poem. The poem made little sense, with its talk of Ways and Cults and Fools, but still, some of his souls whispered to him Prophesy, and the god seriously considered the possibility. Such things often came in highly convoluted riddles and poems, the better to declare the prophesy fulfilled regardless of what actually happened.
And then the haze was gone and Harkon continued as if nothing at all had happened. Itja-Rek looked at the other gods and then back to the god of waters.
"Ah.... yes, focusing on the ecosystem is a good idea. Harkon... what was that you just did? You changed colors and spoke in riddles... have you done such things before?"
Itja-Rek took a concerned step towards the god.
*Crunch*
He looked down and picked up the broken-off cap of a mushroom, one of dozens which were now growing in the vicinity. How... strange.
"Do you mean talking? Yes, I've talked before. But... what are colors? I'm not familiar with those, so I can't say if I've changed colors before. I didn't feel like I changed anything, at least." Harkon asked.
He rolled towards the summoner but found mushrooms all about. He was fairly sure that these weren't there before. "Are these colors?"
"Sea? That's a noun, not a verb. How could I sea how anything... what did you say? Looks? What is looks? Is that a weird dialect for lochs?"
"No, see, not sea. I see you with my -" Comprehension dawned.
"You don't have anything resembling eyes, do you? Is this by choice, necessity or omission? They're highly worthwhile, if I say so myself."
Feeling just a bit better, he snatched his hat off the ground and emptied it out, leaving rich brown dirt and flowers to fall over the ground. "Where did those come from?"
Looking about cross-eyed, he remained, thankfully, silent after that.
"Eyes?" Harkon asked. "What are these eyes? May I feel?"
Without waiting, Harkon washed over the Summoner. No organ seemed to be doing anything in particular that was unusual, not like the mouth on Aaviz at least... wait, there seemed to be a particular sensation passing through part of him, like the summoner's essence was projecting a bit of heightened attention. Maybe the things causing this were eyes?
Satisfied, Harkon drained away from the summoner and tried to form eyes of his own... no, those were too complex too. Stupid organs. Tapping again into the not-water side of his nature, he caused two eye-like organs to come into existence. Hesitantly he put them near his mouth. Huh, so this was sight? Not nearly so tactile as touch. But things did seem to "loch" differently, so he guessed that he must be seeing colors. Harkon sent a bit of power into the organs so they could sustain themselves.
Again with the popping. Several eyes appeared in the air around him, each with a stalk comprised of red tentacles. These eyes fell to the ground and slowly began to crawl away from the god. A few happened to stumble upon Nagas, and they latched themselves onto those bodies, drawing nutrients from their hosts.
"Well, it is nice to sea you Summoner. Hmmm... you're much darker than you feel."
Harkon looked over to the other essence and saw that its insectoidness was rather different than the summoner's dark slickness. The eyes in the sphere of water rotated in different directions, one looking down at its mouth and the other looks towards its back. Maybe that is why other people didn't like being wet? They seemed to not be made of the same stuff as himself.
"Where were we? As yes, color. Sorry, I'm not sure if I've changed color before. But now that I know what I look like, I'll keep an eye out for it." One of his eyes wiggled as Harkon said that. "Two, in fact, as often as I can spare them." The other eye wiggled.
***
~Mishway~
"I say, did you see Veronica's new accesory?" a mish asked.
"Oh my gawd, yes. It is so post-modern. I wonder where she got it," another mish answered.
"Well, let's ask her. Veronica?"
"uuuhhhh," Veronica answered.
"Where did you get that lovely accessory? It looks just like an eye."
"I don't feel too good," Veronica replied.
"Oh don't be like that, tell us so we can get one too."
"Well..." Veronica started. A Mouther flounced out of the bushes. It omnphed one mish and flomped to the other before it could react. The mouther nommed on it, then turned to Veronica. Though she was facing the Mouther, her eyes were too dim to see it.
The Mouther was quite full so it didn't bother with that sickly one. It slithered past Veronica. The eye on the back of her head grew wide. "Oh my gosh, Tiffany, Porche! There's a mouther, RUN!"
Veronica turned and promptly tripped over the creature. Annoyed, it ate her too.
0pp Shape God - Harkon makes eyes for himself
1pp Spawn Beast: Parasites - Harkon spawns a variety of parasites, but "Oculites" in particular. These are magical parasites that implant their tentacles in their host. They cause the host's natural eyes to become blind over time but the host gains the advantage of seeing via the oculite. If a different action or more PP is necessary, please let me know
~Culthet~
One of Harkon's eyes swiveled around, looking for Ordek. The god seemed a bit single minded, but then that can be a virtue at times. Alas, he couldn't find the speaker, so Harkon's other eye searched for him as well, but to no avail.
"I can hear your words, but I can neither see nor feel you. Where are you and why must you say that your proposition is interesting? Are you being coerced to say so by another?! Tell us, and we will free you, so that you may present your proposition in peace."
Cuthlet
My, this was certainly... getting interesting, was it not? The Mother swore that each new generation of Mother was more unique than the last, both in body and mind. But they all seemed nice enough, so she should not judge them... besides, it was rather fun just sitting down and listening to the Mothers chatting among themselves. Though she was quite mystified by the waters off musical interlude accompanied by the smell of... something. But she liked the smell of something enough to not ask too many questions.
Looking over at the Ordek, the Mother sent off some disapproving pheromones. "We are greeting a new Mother, Child Who Is A Mother, you can show a little patience. Speaking of which, greeting the Harkon," the Mother spoke. "I am sorry to have had to use such a simple and vague form of address earlier... but back to your proposal the Ordek," the Mother went on. "I suspect a lot more Mothers would be happy to be involved with it if we knew what it was! You seem to be waiting for someone to ask, but rather perhaps you should simply come out and tell? There is no need to be coy among the community, Child."
Through constant struggle, the stout God managed to free one of his legs from the vice like grip of the God of Beauty, and he drew back and shoved forward a terrible blow with his knee. He had apparently been aiming for the Masquerade again, but it was beyond his reach and instead it merely struck Absalom’s ethereal form.
But still, there was much power behind the blow and it shattered the bonds of physical bonds by which Absalom had held his opponent, and sent large portions of the cloudlike form scattering over the sky. Those portions of energy which were separated from the God of Beauty quickly dissolved into nothingness, no longer able to maintain themselves separate from the God’s energy. Reeling back from the hit, Absalom managed to toss the stout God skyward with one remaining material vine of power.
Thus both Gods tumbled in the skies, the battle between them separated for just a moment, before Absalom’s ethereal form rushed back towards the offender. Had he taken a moment to examine his surroundings, the God of Beauty would have seen that the battle had crossed some space and that they were now in the vicinity of the Triskellion and that strange Pillar (easily within sight of the other Gods). This time when he rushed forward the ethereal cloud of energy grew larger and darker, darker than the blackest of nights, with brief discharges of energy that sparked deep within.
The expanding stygian cloud engulfed the transgressing God whole, blinding his eyes whilst it swirled about. Hundreds of tiny cuts began to open up all over the body of the stout newborn God, as dozens of tiny twirling blades of energy swirled within and tore at his flesh. Simultaneously, the God was repeatedly struck by short arcs of lightning that left no physical damage but seemed to send pure doses of agony through his spine and to his head, nearly blinding him with the pain.
It was during these moments that one of those spinning blades dashed vertically and cut deep into the flesh of the God’s face, scarring his visage and bisecting his right eye, where it tore into the cornea.
2PP Create Artifact: In and around the canyon where the blood of Grimnit fell dozens of pools of boiling blood red liquid appear that occasionally spew forth Geysers. If mortals were to breathe in the fumes that accompany the geysers, they would be sent into a terrible bloodthirsty berserk rage which would be accompanied by prophetic visions. It takes a tremendous amount of will-power to pull oneself out of the Rage, and yet more to remember the visions once freed of the insane wrath, however those that do so find themselves changed forever……
Syreene pulled her hand away from Caltabactos, leaning away and looking down, her hair falling to cover most of her face. "It's... so cold..." she whispered. She hugged herself tightly within the sphere of darkness.
~Mishway, The Triskelion~
"We need something to anchor the mountain securely, such that these Mishquakes don't cause further damage to our demesnes" thundered Lord Rain. He pounded on the flat stone they were standing around. The blow made small pebbles quake. Lynne Wind caught his arm before he had the chance to do so again, slightly shaking her head no at him.
"What my Lord Rain means to say" began the Lynne, "is that things are only going to get worse with inaction."
Lord Thorn nodded gruffly. "We need to anchor this place somehow." "Keep it from sliding or drifting away like those other mountains" offered Lynne Leaf.
Lord Star waved his hands about in the air. "Like, another mountain weighing this one down, to keep it where it is." "Not a mountain. A structure. A building. With long, deep anchors within the Triskelion itself" corrected Lynne Moon."
"A Castle!" suggested Lord Rain. "No, a fort! A citadel! A bastion to man with the strongest of our children and drive out these unsightly menaces!" Lynne Leaf placed one dainty hand on Lord Thorn's shoulder, and the Archfey quieted his rant. His next words were spoken in more even tones. "Like this... monstrosity." Lord Thorn slammed a Mouther down upon the stone slab, watching it squirm in obvious pain, the stone table cracked from the impact.
"Hm." murmured the other exarchs.
Her hand escaped his grip, and Caltabactos watched as she glided back, holding herself for comfort. He took another step, and enterred the sphere of darkness. Black ichor enveloped his form, and the only feature on his shadow-clad humanoid silhouette were two gleaming violet orbs.
The shadows surrounding him filled him with a sense of ecstacy, the pure chaos invigorating him. Whatever was happening to Mishway... he loved it. Caltabactos slowly crept up to her, resting his head on her shoulder and breathed on her neck, "Warm enough for you?"
Floating up slightly, he continued, This storm previously tried the species of the planet harshly. However, the majority of them have adapted. I have deemed it necessary to try the inhabitants even harder, in order to make them stronger. My proposal is simple; we make a larger, more deadly storm that slowly migrates across Culthet. However, I will need help.
"No, Ordek. We need not try them any harder. Look at them!" he pointed down at the naga below, who were fighting an outbreak of skimmers on one side of the island, mindflayers on the other, and trying in vain to right their flame-hut after the winds had knocked it over once more. "The mortals are barely hanging on as it is, and you wish to test them further? Why don't you go down and poke the Leviathan in the eye while you're at it? These sentients are vitally important to me. We should be helping them, not trying to kill them at every turn."
Cuthlet
The Mother was simply... disgusted at the Ordeks suggestion.
"The Ordek, the Itja-Rek speaks truly... why do you want to do this? Our Children are already tested by constant war, and the struggle to survive the storm as it is right now. What is more, our Children are adapted to this level of storm all the time, not a stronger storm part of the time! Did you even think of the bigger picture? The Hive is fed water from constant rain, if it does not rain constantly, the things inside of it my die of thirst! The Naga have developed to swim in stormy seas, can they even swim to their full potential in still waters? And what of the mud crabs, if their mud dries from light, they will be sitting ducks, and their entire kind may be eaten! But that would effect the naga that dine on them, cutting their numbers drastically, which would in turn effect the Hook Horrors and Mindflayers which feed on them in turn, which would mean these skimmers would no longer have anything to eat but the Trilobites until such a time as the Trilobites were extinct, meaning the skimmers would eventually have nothing to destroy but each other until nothing is left!
The Mother shook her head sadly. "The Ordek, you crave conflict, I know of it... but this way spells not conflict, but merely death. With no life, there is no growth, no conflict. You will be stabbing yourself in the heart with an impulsive decision if you destroy the very nature of the plane we live upon."
~Culthet~
Harkon bobbed respectfully to the insectoidish one's greeting and listened to the discussion between it, the summoner, and the one called Ordek. When there seemed to be a pause, he interjected.
"Oh intangible Ordek, watery be thy name. Thy gasses come, thy words be said, to us as it is in thine mind. I beseech you, listen to these words, harken to their meaning. Earth may seem to be stronger than water, for stone is immoveable and water must go around. To survive the storm you propose, life would have to become like stone, hard and immovable. But that which is hard is worn away in time; that is not true strength. Fire dies, wind fails, earth rots, but water remembers, for water submits and endures until it conquers. Do not make life like stone, which will be impressive in the moment but fade with time. Make it like water, make it endure."
Grimnit threw back his head and yelled with rage. There were wounds all over his body that shouldn't be there and he couldn't feel, or see, from his left eye. This battle was not going well at all, he started thrashing wildly in a attempt the stop the blades from hitting him but no matter where he moved he couldn't escape the cutting blades.
While he was thrashing his hands focused on the forging of the blade, working the metal at the top of the shaft into an axe head and then smashing them together into a crude wedge. After that was done he let his blood fall upon the axe, feeding it with his own energies.
With that done he started swinging as hard as he could with both hands, changing direction with each swing and desperately trying to stop the other creatures onslaught.
Create Artifact (Greater): The Axe Of Grimnit. The Axe draws it's power from the blood of it's user.
Type: Combat
"Seriously? Fall's whirling colors, man! Could you be any more creepy? We're like your uncle! Not to mention the voyeurism that would need be involved." Though the voice came from Syreene's body, the voice was obviously that of Sonnet.
For her part, Syreene's mind was elsewhere. Lost in her own, dark thoughts, she stumbled forward abruptly, just as the battlecries of Grimnit and Absalom rent the air. "Spring's growth!" she swore. "What could possibly be happening with those two?
~Mishway, The Triskelion~
The Lords and Lyn worked quickly, their combined power making the task nigh effortless. Upon each of The Triskelion's small hilltops a domicile was erected.
The western third housed Fort Reckoning, the cruelly sharp, angular stonework evoking the brutal power of Lord Thorn, and the razor control of Lynne Leaf. The eastern hilltop erupted into a grand structure, large and rigid, with a great may arches and columns supporting (and anchoring!) the building's great weight. It was known as the Tempest Citadel, named after Lord Rain, and Lynne Wind, who dwelt within. The northern hill was slowest and smallest to grow, highly angular walls and weird, geometric architecture directing the structure in a half-spiral towards the sky. The lair of Lord Star and Lynne Moon was known simply as Skywatcher Keep.
PP Expenditure
-1 PP Modify Mold Land (The Triskelion is worked by the Lords of Spring such that three separate keeps ot the three minor peaks of the mountain. The central peak remains conspicuously bare.
6/6 + 1/2
Taking a deep breath, he took his first glance at the stuff he had dropped out of his hat. Running his hand through the dirt, very dry and dusty compared to anything he had seen here on Culthet, he frowned. "Odd. Very very very odd, This doesn't belong here. This world is far to wet for such a dry dirt to exist, except perhaps around spirit guys tomb, since I moved it above the clouds and it doesn't have rain issues. Perhaps it came from another fragment, but that would be a very bad thing as well. Collisions and explosions and death and mayhem and general chaos. Worse, the end comes beyond chaos. Yes, yes, yes, I must investigate this phenomena more, to discover exactly what is happening, and see if I can't use it in someway in some experiments i have in mind. But that has to wait for now. I have a much much better idea first."
"It's time that we remind creatures that the world need not be nothing but water, water, and more water, with the occasional ball of mud interspaced between it. I've seen many a place, and none of them had nearly as much water as this one. Probably because none of them were partial worlds, but thats not the point I want to make, no, no, no, my point is that we need some dry places, places where water doesn't go, to encourage diversity and see just how competent things are. Of course, any place beneath this accursed cloud cover is just guaranteed to be wet and soggy all the time, and of course, much like a good sandwich, wet and soggy just doesn't sound good. It's one thing to have a nice drink after eating a delicious sandwich, but eating a delicious sandwich soaked with liquid just isn't right, no it's not at all."
Stamping his feet on the ground beneath him, he yelled at it. "You hear me, you stupid dirt. Get out of the water. Up, up, and out, right this moment. YOu've been swimming enough for one eternity, to go."
Pointing a finger upwards, he continued to yell angrily. "You heard me! Get up right now and leave that water behind. It's time to get all dried off, right this moment!"
Deep below the assembled gods, there came a deep low rumbled, and almost inaudible crack that seemed to echo within them. As suddenly as Aaviz had stopped yelling, his eyes widened as the ground began to stir beneath them, shaking with effort as it tore itself free from the bedrock so far below. Rumbling and cracking, the earth rose forth from the ocean, sending a flood of water pouring from the sides as it emerged from the endless ocean, rising skyward, continuing it's rise even once it was free of the ocean, soaring into the air until it rose above the clouds as Aaviz had demanded, basking in the baleful light of the sun so far above. Standing there in the mud, Aaviz looked at the sun and nodded. "Odd, really, why that thing is red. Most of them are yellow, you know. Not nearly as hot either, but then the heat is a good thing, since it probably keeps the storm going and will help dry all this mud up."
As suddenly as it had rose, it whole thing began to weaken. Eyes widening, Aaviz turns to the other gods. "Can I get a hand? I seem to have miscalculated something!"
"Really. Tomb-Mover, I now call you Land-Mover. And I probably should let it fall and mess with those below, because really, how much fun would that be to watch, but I won't, because I'm a nicer person and I do nicer things. Really"
He reached out with his power, and spread a metal through the continent, keeping to together, holding it in one piece, as well as agumenting it with his power to polish off the power holding the continent aloft. It was a strange metal, one that had a warping aura. But it worked.
-1 PP: Mold Land (Greater): Finish off shadow's action.
-1 PP: Nourish Land: Warp Metal is spread throughout this continent in veins and other ways. It exudes a strange aura, gradually warping those who come near it for extended periods of time. Symptoms incude severe mutations, up too complete bodily changing, and total, complete change of mindset, into something alien and strange.
Cuthlet
The Mother watched the island rising up with interest, idly snapping up and swallowing a mud crab as it scuttled in front of her. To be completely honest, she was sore that this floating island would no doubt receive attention far sooner than her shallow reef would. But at the same time, she could not help but wonder what sort of Children would adapt to live in such a strange place, so high in the sky without any storms or... rain... or water. She suddenly realized that the Aaviz had probably not thought this through very well.
"It is impressive, if somewhat superfluous the Aaviz," the Mother complimented him... sort of. "However, methinks that it will take some clever preparations on behalf of the Mothers for creatures to actual live in a place that has no rain... one moment, if you would."
Sprouting her gossamer wings, the Mother buzzed up past the clouds to the continent above, before flying over the entirety of the more or less barren mass, small seeds budding off of her carapace as she did so at irregular intervals. Soon, these seeds sprouted into... things. They were plants, but unlike the other plants the Mothers had made so far. These were blue all over, with spikes and no leaves. Some looked a little like men, with arms sticking out, while others were simply straight up and down. All however were filled to the brim with water, and had roots that though thin were so extremely long they reached the clouds below, sucking moisture from the constant storm. If one were to cut into one of these plants, you could drain all the water out of it, and treat is as a well for several days or perhaps even a week before it needed to recover and gave off no more water.
"There," the Mother stated satisfactorily as she landed back down among the gods, tucking her wings away once more. "These cacti should ensure that the creatures living on your island have water, even if it does not rain. Though it is little enough water that your intent to have a land where the strong survive will still come to pass I am sure."
1PP - Nourish Land - The Mother creates Acti Cacti, blue cacti with an unusually large amount of water within them, and with roots that lead all the way down to the storm below.
[2/6]
Cuthlet
The Mother frowned. Did that mean her little sewing the seeds of life on the continent had been a waste of time? Wait a moment...
"The Aaviz, I appreciate your theory, but in truth the higher you are, the stronger the wind, and the colder it is... I doubt that any cloud could remain unfrozen and long enough in one place to let loose its rain in that altitude! However, perhaps I am overestimating the height of this new continent... in any case, it seems rainfall might well be less there than it would be in other places, so I suppose my plants might still be useful."
Cuthlet
"But of course!" the Mother replied. "I would not have sewn the land with my plants had I thought that it would get all the rain we got here below! I merely underestimated the amount of rain it WOULD get... as opposed to none, it is some. It makes my plants somewhat less necessary, but I suppose they might still be necessary depending on how much rain it does end up getting."
Slowly the Mouther scrabbled amongst the rich grasses. A quick lunge, a single bite -- the dobbit was swallowed whole, flower tail and all. The mouther began to waddle away, its small brain firing nerve receptors that a more intellect-favored being might interpret as smug self-satisfaction.
*tschk*
Thorny claws speared the creature, pinning it to the ground. A second briar-covered paw crashed down, putting it out of its misery. And then, the claws began to thrash. Where the Mouther had been was nothing more than a pale pink fluid seeping into torn furrows in the grass. It had been utterly annihilated.
Lynne Wind nodded thoughtfully as the plant creature slunk away, seeking more prey. She turned to her sisters and together, the three of them headed for Tempest Citadel. "Excellent work, sisters. These new Battlebriars were ingenious, and should curb theses extra-dimensional pests."
-2 Spawn Beast (Moderate) -- Battlebriars begin to populate the Triskelion. Though they are photosynthetic, they posess an uncontainable rage towards anything not of the forest. They will pick fights with any spawn or populace not listed on The Triskelion's wiki page (meaning they are outsiders or foreign creatures) Some foolhardy Virago think that these plant creatures can be tamed...
Stupid fargmented ball of water? Hrmph. Harkon had been beginning to like Aaviz. He was the first essence he actually had met, and Harkon had learned from him; his rejection hurt. And to blame water because earth had forgotten how to be itself? Injury on top of insult! And what did he mean, fragmented? Tears formed around Harkon's eyes, though since the eyes were submerged in his own water there was no way for others to tell. No, he wouldn't cry. He was water, he'd endure. He hardened himself and pushed the hurt aside. For now. Water endures, but water remembers.
Having put his hurt and anger from his mind, Harkon found himself excited about this new place. He rolled around, seeing what there was to see and feeling what this earth felt like. In his eagerness he began to stretch himself out, winding his way across the land like a river... or like one of those naga, he supposed. He looked about the new continent and then up at the sun. That was the color red? Odd, he'd have thought that color would be called Susan, but then again, he didn't actually have experience with color.
"Not too bad," he said, then coughed. "Sorry, my mouth isn't used to how dry the air is up here... actually, I doubt much water would stray this far up, especially not rain clouds. Those things are afraid of heights, you know. Though I suppose I could talk to them for you..."
He turned and continued, "Regardless, I suspect any life here will be more than happy to have those cacti nearby, oh non-watery Insectoidish One."
The new essence approached and introduced itself. "I'm Harkon Armal, nice to meet you Hulna. But I'm sorry," Harkon replied, "I didn't catch your daughter's name. You just stammered a bit. What was it again?"
Shadow, did you raise the island that all the gods were on or is this a different bit of land?
As the Hulna-whatchamacallit approached him, he grabbed his right hand as if in pain and jumped away, jumping up and down. "You're that black bitey thing from inside spirit guys head. Keep your distance, or I'll smack you good with a rock. I don't appreciate getting bitten."
Grabbing a nearby rock that was nearly as large as him, we waved it threateningly at Hulna.
Turning to Harkon, he said, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Harkon. And I did not stammer. Ur is the name of my daughter."
Turning back to the rest of the gods, he asked. "So what's going on over here?"
He conjured up a boulder, this one larger then himself.
With that, he began to hurl a barrage of stone at Hulna , conjuring from the air as necessary.
Shrugged, he began hurling stones once more and worse, began hurling insults as well. "For a brain so big, you are pretty stupid! You are a one eyed monster! Your tentacles are all spongy and worthless. You are ugly then the but of a wooly mammoth, and you stink like one too!"
And then he realized that was just what he wanted. He wanted Hulna to destroy him, to prove him right. He would not give the pest the satisfaction. Hulna let the rocks drop and said, "I don't have time for this," as he bured the power and rage deep within his subconscious for later use. Turning his back to the pest, he sent a message to the other gods via telepathy, Someone give me something else to focus on before I shred his mind and send his body into a permanent catatonic state.
Cuthlet
The Mother preened herself happily at the compliment... it was about time somebody complimented her on her work, she was starting to feel rather unappreciated!
"I thank you for the kind words, the Harkon," the Mother replied, not really insulted by his term of address... a name was just a way to describe someone after all. As long as they knew they were being addressed, the actual term used was rather unimportant.
The Mother glared disapprovingly at the Aaviz. "Leave the poor Hulna alone," she chided. "He's done nothing wrong as far as I can see, or at the very least nothing so bad to deserve being pelted with rocks like that!" However, if you need something to do, the Mother thought at the Hulna. You could help us populate that new floating continent of the Aaviz's... or if that is still too close to the Aaviz to take your mind off of his abuse, I have made a shallow reef full of coral to the East that could use some attention.
Mishway
Absalom continued to swarm about his opponent, stabbing again and again, drawing forth more and more blood. The God of Beauty drew a savage sadistic joy from all of this, from racking vengeance and forcing a totality of submission from the interloper. For every drop of blood that fell, Absalom’s senses seemed to heighten, his awareness expands, his strength increases, and his satisfaction fulfill. And the stout Gods resistance had been so ineffective, even now, blinded by the swirling darkness about him the God just swung some instrument madly about, and with every swing he seemed to slow and grow weaker.
As time wore on Absalom began to grow arrogant. The other Gods complete lack of effective resistance had stoked his pride, and as the apparent end drew ever nearer Absalom began to take more and more unnecessary risks. Driven by hubris and believing that his opponent could no longer mount an effective resistance, Absalom began to drift the center of his mass, his energy, as signified by the scarred Masquerade, closer and closer to the stout deity. He began to laugh maliciously as he swarmed past the other deity, coming closer and closer with each pass.
The axe must have grown heavy in his opponents hands, for it drooped lower and lower, and when Absalom saw him drop to a knee the God of Beauty let out a triumphant cry and rushed forward, drawing a vast amount of power into one final blow to fell the interloper. However his opponent, either finding a last reserve of strength or only pretending to grow meek, hoisted the axe high above his head and with a mighty roar brought the blade down like a crack of thunder.
It was too late to pull back by the time he saw his opponent’s last attack, and as he grew closer and closer Absalom desperately attempted to divert but to no avail. The blade of the axe struck the Masquerade with the force that only a God could summon, and sent powerful antagonistic divine energy burning through Absalom’s form. The alabaster of the Masquerade bended, warped, and splintered about the axe, and it was only its divine creation that prevented it from totally shattering.
It may not have shattered, but the blow was more than powerful enough to fell the God for now. The dark swirling mass that had encompassed the combatants faded in the blink of an eye. In its stead, the swirling cloud of energy that was Absalom’s form spiraled towards the earth below, crashing into the dinner table set atop the Pillar and shattering the wood before bouncing and finally coming to a rest directly on top of where moments before the strange hole which had seemed so alien to this reality.
Culthet
Then perhaps expending energy in a place that is not a continent? she had to think. Before dismissing the thought and focusing on the actual question. As for that, the Ordek wished to increase the power of the storm of this world, and make it so it only effected the residents part of the time... needless to say every god that appeared here vetoed the suggestions, it's ridiculous and devastating to every living thing on this world. Then the A... one moment please.
Reaching over to the Aaviz with one large leg segment, the Mother whacked them across the back of the head with it disapprovingly. "I said to behave, not make strange scribble things," she chided her. "What are those things anyway? Besides which, you owe the Hulna an apology for picking on them!"
Foolishly, he decided that perhaps he didn't need the help of the others to make his creation. Drifting up into the sky, he pulled various storm clouds and moisture out of the sky in an attempt to create a single, massive clout.
He was almost successful.
He managed to create a massive cloud, as he predicted. Smiling, he drifted away and looked at his creation.
Sadly, without the help or consent of the other gods, the creature could not survive. Instead of unleashing a storm, it simply exploded, throwing Ordek down into the dark, black ocean.
Meanwhile, the breakaway from the explosion still lived. Clouds of varying size moved down close to the surface, causing small thunderstorms of varying strength.
These clouds were sentient, living things, very much unlike the clouds that covered the world in a perpetual storm. So, based on their emotions was how strong exactly their storm would be. Unfortunately, for the most part, the clouds were... angry, not being pleased at all ue to the painful explosion they all recently witnessed.
2 PP Spawn Beast (moderate): Living Storms cover Culthet, drifting around and causing general problems.
[2 PP remaining]
Waving his hand, all the lights vanished as he spun back at the bitey one. Moments later, he began hurling not only chunks of stone, but also sharp shards of crystal and metal. Each was carefully angled and coordinated to avoid Hulna's psionic attempts to halt their flight. "Go away, bitey black thing that makes my hand hurt. Go away!"
Culthet
"Oh for the love of..."
Sighing, the Mother put a leg in the way of the barrage, the rocks bouncing off of her hard carapace. "The Aaviz, PLEASE try and behave," she urged him one more time. "I do not know why you seem so intent on hurting the Hulna, but you are being frightfully rude and down right exasperating! I do not know why you blame her for biting your hand, but frankly biting a hand does not seem an offense worthy of stoning! Now please control yourself, otherwise I shall be forced to eat you."
Vanishing in an instant, he reappeared on the far side of Hulna, and resumed his barrage of large bunt and slightly sharp objects. "You big bulbous slimy brain, you probably couldn't think yourself out of a wet paper bag, could you!"
Itja-Rek had been distracted for some time looking at the continent that had formed around Ordarak-Rek and been sent into the air. It was clear that Aaviz had something against the rain of this place. Finally, he noticed the commotion going on between The Mother, Aaviz and Hulna.
Stepping next to The Mother, the god said quietly "let me handle this..." And floated over towards Aaviz, spooling out a line of souls as he went and letting them drift into the water.
"Aaviz!" he called out, yanking on the line of souls and sending a wave of water crashing over the god. "Calm yourself!"
Again and again he sent the water over Aaviz until the other god was completely drenched.
"Listen. If I am okay with the god that shared my brain for a time, you should be too, okay?"
"I'm not sure why they're fighting either... maybe... ah... not good."
Caltabactos was closest to the dinner table, and when Absolam crashed into it at an incredible velocity, the force of the impact knocked Caltabactos off of his feet. It also knocked him back a few hundred meters.
Dazed and confused, the God of Change painfully got back up on his feet. A dark, red ichor flowed from his face and both of his hands. Was this... blood? The grin so customarily on his face was absent, and he tentatively put a finger in his mouth, tasting the strange liquid. It tasted like pain.
Caltabactos slowy stumbled over to the ocean, hoping to be able to wash off the blood. The mess was off his hands, as he meticulously washed his hands, but the water near the edge had become a sickly pink. Some little fish and sichons examined the water curiously, wondering why it had changed color. Caltabactos saw the creatures and smiled, causing the dried blood on his face to crack. "Go ahead, little guys, it's safe."
The animals in the water started spasming as the divine blood entered their systems. When the twitching finally stopped, the fish and sichons were bigger, redder, and and spikey. Other fish wouldn't want to be around them. Caltabactos was intrigued by the developments, but decided to go back to the Pillar. He forgot about the blood on his face, which had now dried and covered most of the right half.
[Note: This is an effective changed to his appearance. Every form he takes will have blood on the right side of the face (or thumb if he's a hand)]
2PP - Spawn Template - Bloodborn animals. Any animal drinking from the bloody water increases in their size and aggressiveness. They also gain spikes on their body.
1PP - Mold Land - The Red Zone. An area of the ocean is pinkish. Animals drinking from it will gain the above template. People drinking from it will be poisoned (details to be added later on the wiki)
3/6
The shock of Absalom's arrival drove Syreene from her stupor. The darkness, if had ever really been there at all, abruptly vanished. The goddess took a deep shuddering breath, focused her thoughts, and regained her composure.
As if Absalom's fall had been an omen, the skies of Mishway abruptly darkened. Raging storm clouds that seemed somehow alive (for in fact, they were) crashed through the heavens, totally alien to the gentle rainfall that the Mish, Troinat, and Virago were used to.
"This will not do!" Syreene's eyes began to blaze blue-white, in a strange synchonimity to the white-hot lightnings above. The goddess exerted her will, and with a casual disregard for gravity, stepped into the air, towards the eye of the storm.
Already the Feymother could see the cause of the disturbance -- yet another planar rift, this one wider and larger, gaping in the sky. Caltabactos' efforts to create the Eroes, long gone untended, and served to catalyze the wider destruction that now preoccupied the sky.
Any nearby would have noted the goddess pale as she realized the seriousness of the tear. Syreene threw her divine will at it, attempting to examine the root cause. It was readily apparent -- there was far too much planar energy in that one section of the sky, as if part of the plane had folded into itself, such that twice as much plane was trying to exist in the same spot.
Syreene sent a tether of her power into the breach, unraveling the rift, and drawing the excess energy into herself. Gradually the storms lessened, and while the planar breach yet remained, its density had been reduced to non-critical levels. Syreene rubbed her temples. It was only a temporary solution, that was for sure. What in Season's Name was going on with this place?
Syreene suddenly clutched at her stomach, painfully reminded of the planar energy she had absorbed. Pressure built for a moment more, the goddess' face twinged in pain and then-- release!
The assembled gods below saw the explosion first, a cascade of light that was followed several seconds by a deluge of sound. Syreene's body slammed into the ground, in a similar manner to that of Absalom. She slid over the ground for nearly a kilometer, ending near the shore, breast heaving up and down rapidly, and moaning.
PP Expenditure
-0 The planar energy of the colliding planes combines with fragments of Syreene's own power to result in a new divinity. Schi'vya (Xeadin)
He looked at the thing that had crashed down and attacked him then started to get up. Then, instead he sat and started laughing heartily. It felt good to be contested, even if the pain was new. He looked over the land and noticed the changes to the landscape. "That's interesting."
After the cascade of light faded, a small cloud of glitterdust slowly fell towards the Pillar; its flashes of colors all ranging from dark red to pale green and deep indigo. The dust slowly came to a halt, as a small gust of wind blew upon it. The wind seemed to be attracted to this dust, as it spun and woven itself into a dark cloud of black and deep violet. Tiny cracks of divine lightning surged through the cloud and started to assume an almost humanoid figurine.
The eyes of the new being slowly flickered to life, as she breathed new air. Her form floated just inches from the top off the Pillar. She looked all around to see the surrounding landscape. She noticed that there were several floating rocks in the distance just grazing the horizon, and there was a body of a blue liquid not too far too the north... at least, to her mind it was north...
She held out what looked like arms and studied them. She poked through her formless arms and made what looked like fingers. She flexed them and twisted them, until she could could flex them at her will.
The form looked at the other gods with her blank stare; she knew something was missing... but what.
At first she tried to speak what was flowing through her head, but nothing came out. She tried again... only this time a weak squeal escaped her form. A mouth!
She took one of her hands and made an opening underneath her eyes for a mouth.
"There we go!" She made a smile with her new mouth. "Hello."
Small lightnings continually danced over Syreene's body. She lay on the ground, subtly writhing in pleasure. To have channeled that much planar otherness, well, it was as they said -- the taste of power is intoxicating and addicting.
Some small part of Syreene's mind (perhaps even Sonnet) struggled vainly to rise above the sea of pleasure, to bring attention to the darkness that had, in the wake of her exertions, returned as mysteriously as it had disappeared.
Still moaning, Syreene managed to flow onto her stomach. Abruptly, the ground beneath her gave way, weakened as it was from her catastrophic fall. The goddess found herself sliding into the Red Zone. The innumerable cuts, nicks, and scratches the goddess had acquired in her fall began to taint the already pink water a darker color, a dangerous scarlet.
Syreene managed to drag herself out of the ocean, completely slathered with two sets of divine blood. She lay there, on the beach for several long moments, still sporadicly writhing in pleasure from the massive confluence of energy far above. She gritted her teeth and pushed.
Syreene's pore began to leak utter power, a cloud of pure magic formed around her, forcefully exhumed from her body. The goddess groaned as pleasure at last faded into pain, and dragged her body further from the water. The cloud of magic, however, Lingered.
-1 nourish Land -- strengthens the magical properties of the Red Zone by adding The Crimson Shore. Like the Red Zone, any spawn who strays within the area for too long gains the Bloodborn template.
-0 pp Ascend God -- Clastron (Aboleth11), Syreene's second god of illusion within a single hour. Who'd have guessed?
The first thing he saw was... well he was't quite sure what it was. But before he could figure out what was going on, the stuff blew away. He looked down at himself and saw he was wearing brightly colored robes. He looked around and saw many others. "Hello" He said sounding a little suprised that he could talk. "Who am I?"
Poliphas looks at the ruined table and the crashed form of Absolom. A graceful landing, no. But at least one of his guests had made it to the top of the pillar. With a quick wave of his hands, Poliphas reset the table to its originally set position. The minor distraction of the table taken care of, Poliphas turned his concern to the fallen God of Beauty.
"Absolom? Are you alright?"
As the storm raged about the Pillar, a bolt of lightning flashed out of the sky and struck Poliphas. The god stepped away from Absolom to prevent the energies surrounding Poliphas from harming the already injured God of Beauty. Normally, Poliphas would have no issues with ordinary lightning. However, this lightning was energized with extra-planar forces and was causing him to fight for his life. Racing through his thoughts, Poliphas reached out to Ruudite and borrowed his strength. Tapping into the Pillar's rocky core, Poliphas channeled his strength and Ruudite's into turning the lightning around.
Poliphas threw the lightning back at the storm, accelerating the already rapid closure of the rift. The howling storm vanished and Mishway's skies resumed their usual hue. However, the Pillar had changed its appearance from all the energy channeled through it. The Pillar appeared to have been changed into transparent crystals that gave off a silvery-blue aura of energy.
But as she was about to glide closer, a bolt of lightning slammed right onto the pillar. The intense flash of lightning forced her off of the pillar in a rush of energy. However, her form remained in the air, and she kept herself together. "Jeez! What in the blazes was that?"
She looked up and saw that there were storm clouds circling above. She looked back at the pillar and noticed that it had become a giant crystal. "How did that...? Did the lightning do it?" She thought for a moment.
It's probably not safe here for me right now, so I think I'll head down toward the trees.
She floated down towards the ground, where she saw a small figure right next to the blue liquid's edge. Part of the blue liquid had turned a bright red. she also noticed that there was a red liquid dried on the man's face. "Oh dear. Are you okay?"
A slight breeze blew against her cheek, and a flock of Eroes flew out from the open meadow to the left. Flight, she thought to herself. It's so... majestic... I wish I could make something like that...
Suddenly, she felt a tinge of energy rushing through her form. A divine presence appeared inside of her and faded away into her spirit. She felt the energy changing her and her spirit has changed into one of divine reality. "I can."
Schi'vya raises up her arm and a cluster of glitterdust floats out from her hand. The dust assumes a form similar to the Eroes, but on a larger scale. These new creatures resemble that of a hawk or some other bird-of-prey with bright white feathers along its spial section. The creatures let out a screech that echoed throughout the meadow, and a few chased after the Eroes.
She then walked out into the meadow, and decided that she needed to make a home for herself and the new Stormbirds she had created. She raised up her arms and more glitterdust spilled out into the ground below. The ground began to shake, and it was as if the earth itself had given way. The earth before her was ripped up and sent into the air, hovering some fifty feet from the actual ground that she stood upon. The massive boulder was shaped into a bowllike structure, and bore intricate tunnels, and other, smaller rocks floated next to the large boulder-- connected by tree roots from the meadows, allowing for creatures to cross to other rocks or to the main bowllike structure.
She flew up and into the bowl, where she felt like it needed an extra touch. She spread some of the glitterdust around her, and in no time, strange beings rose up in cloudy bunches. They all assumed similar forms as she did. The wind started to pick up, and the beings sprang to life. Air Elementals, she thought to herself. A perfect name for them.
Most of the Stormbirds came up and nested at the large bowl and on the rocks that surrounded the bowl. The elementals made their hown within the tunnels and on the rocks. This will be the Stormcloud Colosseum.
2PP- Spawn Moderate Beast (Stormbirds): Large birds of prey that resembles a hawk. They are fast, extremely territorial, and resourceful.
2PP- Mold Land (Stormbridge Colosseum): An immense structure shaped into a bowl-like structure, it has an intricate array of tunnels and small shelters located near the bottom of the colosseum. Rocks float alongside the colosseum, connected by the random fauna roots that was sitting on top of the earth.
3PP- Shape Populace (Air Elementals): Beings touched by the divine energies brought upon by Schi'vya. They are humanoid figures that look like walking clouds, and they have superior agility. They can use their environment to their advantage, and they can easily outmaneuver even the best hunters.
Current PP- 0/7
"Oh, really now..."
Itja-Rek spooled his souls into a large tube, then compressed the far end. A huge stream of water struck out, knocking Aaviz into the roiling waves.
"Come now, pay attention!"
"All right, you big ugly brain, this is the end of the road. All out war and such what not, on your smelly face and your pig-faced daughter too! We'll fight, fight, fight for our right to something or another, and march forward to glory while pelting you with whatever I have at hand. YOu know, someone once told me one could obtain honor in battle, so I wonder is this gives me honor. But then, I doubt they were talking about a pelting of large stones and sharp crystal backed by an annoying stream of water."
"You black bitey thing and your tub'o'lard daughter, you both need to go. I was here first, and I can't stand your stench, so you've got to go. Not to mention your ugly faces and weird thoughts." Lifting his hand to conjure some more stuff, his eyes widened. "Of course, of course, thats what I'm missing. Perhaps a bit of a charge might get your feet to a-walkin!" and with that, tiny harmless bolts of lighting joined the rain of crystals to fall upon Hulna."
Poliphas looked at left arm, where red marks shaped like ferns ran up from his wrist and twisted around his elbow. Lightning shouldn't hurt like that. Fortunately, the marks seemed to be fading and the feeling in his arm returning.
Concerned others were injured far worse than he, Poliphas peered over the side of the pillar. Near the base of the pillar, two unfamiliar gods were talking to each other. Although one appeared to be injured, the other god was tending to that one.
Poliphas raised his attention further out. A more familiar god-aura, but extremely weak. What had happened to Syreene? Poliphas built up his energy to perform the rapid-transit skill, but was wracked with pains in his injured arm. With that option disabled, Poliphas had no other choice. He took a few steps back from the edge and leapt.
Soaring through the sky, Poliphas noticed a few new birds different from the common Eroes. Poliphas noticed the ground approaching rapidly, and braced himself for the landing. He landed on the edge of the ocean, sending water one way and wet sand the other. Poliphas rushed to the fallen god's side.
"Syreene! Can you hear me?"
She opened her mouth, letting a long ragged gasp rock her frame. Gingerly she rolled onto her back. "Ow." was all she said. Another mishquake shook the plane then, sending the goddess bouncing a little in the loose sand. She collapsed into an untidy heap once more.
Was that Poliphas?
Syreene winced. "Worst... party... ever." her face cracked the barest instance of a smile.
Finally becoming stable, the god of change walked over to the goddess on the ground, and offered his hand to her. "Come on, get up, this is no time to be sleeping! It's considered rude, you know."
"Yeah, I should never have double booked the Mishquake and the Cosmic Storm as entertainment. Those two never get along."
Poliphas winced as another storm raged far out over the ocean. This beach wouldn't be safe for much longer. Scooping the fallen goddess into his arms, Poliphas turned towards the Triskelion.
"I can't get you back to my Pillar, so I'm taking you back to the place that has your aura all over it. It shouldn't take too long."
~Mishway~
Schi'vya veered over one side of the colosseum to see the other gods helping one of them up. Golly. That was awful rude of me to ignore them in the first place.
She flew up into the air and made a soft landing near the other three. "Hello, dear friends. I'm sorry I hadn't introduced myself to you yet. It was awfully rude on my part. My sincere condolences; I'm Schi'vya." She bowed to the others. "And who might you all be?"
Poliphas looked at the newcomer, and noted a passing resemblance to the goddess on his arm.
"A pleasure to meet you, Schi'vya. My name is Poliphas. Are you here to give us a hand?"
"Why, it's Caltabactos! I remember last spring when you were but a little hand, and look at you now! A full grown person!" She pivoted wildly, gripping Poliphas fiercely.
"And you!" She blinked several times, gathering her thoughts. "I made you from the otherness I found in the ground." She giggled, manically before lunging at Schi'vya. She didn't make it, helped as she was by Caltabactos and Poliphas.
"You! You're the result of that energy I channeled up in the sky just now, aren't you?" The Spring goddess boggled at Schi'vya, then turned abruptly back to Poliphas. "Poliphas! Isn't this great? You have a sister! That's how it works, right?"
Without warning, Syreene went completely limp, head lolling. "You'll have to forgive me. I don't quite seem myself, yet." The voice was smooth and deep, the lucid tone that of Sonnet, not Syreene.
Schi'vya held her hands behind her, as the God of Spring tried to lunge at her.
"Brother? The Nothingness? What are you saying?" Schi'vya was confused about what the god of spring had said.
She turned towards Poliphas. "Of course I'll give you three a hand. I owe you three a favor for me ignoring you, after all." She made a smile.
"I appreciate your assistance. If you could clear a path ahead for us, we're trying to take Syreene to her 'grove' for lack of a better word. Once we're there, I'll see if I can explain what she just said a little better, 'little sister'."
Poliphas looked at the trees around him. The earliest autumn colors were starting to show. A small mishquake rumbled beneath the four gods.
"I think you should never have woken me up. These problems started soon after..."
~Mishway~
"Sure thing." Schi'vya waved her arm high, and four Elemental servants appeared before her in a thin haze. The figures bowed to her.
"I need you to clear a path for us to this one's 'grove.'"
The four nodded, and one of them disappeared. The other three stood by for further orders. "Whenever you need help getting through the forest, you can always count on an air elemental to be of assistance." Schi'vya winked. "Okay. Go ahead."
And just like that, the three elementals cleared out a path a short distance throught the thick bramble.
Continuing his barrage with far more intensity, he unleashed everything his mind could conceive of to summon. Huge boulders flew threw the air like rag dolls, shards of razor sharp glass and huge bolts of lightning rained down from a few near by clouds. Clouds of manure and blasts of water smashed into Hulna and Ur.
Ripping off his hat, Aaviz reached inside and began pulling things out at random to throw at his foe. Clouds of paper, vases full of flowers, handfuls of sand, and even a few feathers scattered into the winds, flying at Hulna.
Reaching in one more time, he pulled and straining to pull something large out of his hat. For a long moment, it seemed as if he would simply fail to pull anything out, then suddenly something large and white flew out. Brandishing this new weapon single handedly, Aaviz, hurled it at Hulna, the kitchen sink flying haphazardly through the air.
1 PP
-1 Attack God: Aaviz gets a telekinetic punch to the spleen and experiences his worst fears made real.
Suddenly, Syrene staggered back to her feet, eyes wild. "You guys... you three... wait... there should be four of you. No wait, five..." Syreene went slack again. Mere moments after being limp, she stood bolt upright again. "You guys" she began for the third time. "Are the most precious beings next to my own dear Sonnet."
She used her insane strength to wrap Caltabactos and Poliphas in a fierce three-way hug. "I mean, so so much are you precious." Her eyes whirled madly. "You guys.... you don't deserve to be beat up llike poor Absalom. I will." she swayed. "I will... I will see too it that if it ever comes down to it, you have each other to turn to for aid."
White-hot power thundered between Syreene's hands, arcing wildly, scouring the earth and setting everyone's hair on end. When it was finished, a small runed tablet floated in the air before the goddess. She slumped, exhausted.
"Her selflessness is going to get us killed some day." Sonnet's irritable tenor broke through the hushed murmurs that had abounded in the wake of Syreene's exertion. "I may as well take over. It's nearly summer anyway." Carefully extricating herself (himself?) from those of his escorts, the god of seasons took a few unsteady steps forward. Each footfall was heavier, more masculine. The goddess grew taller, her breasts diminished, and her hair was half the length it had been mere moments ago. Still very-much female, but with the very-male Sonnet's voice, the goddess looked at his (her?) bewildered entourage. "What?" Zie asked, uncomfortably.
In the silence that followed, Syreene's|Sonnet's eyebrows rose, and zer face paled. "The trees are turning? But it's not even the summer solstice!" Zie sat down again, suddenly weak. "Something is very, very wrong with this place. Something bad is going to happen, and soon. No small thing alters the span of seasons!"
-4 PP Create Greater Artifact: World Artifact -- The Casus Belli. This is a small floating tablet covered with broken oaths, pacts, and compromises inscribed in runic script. While it possesses a physical form, one does not require physical proximity to call on the artifact's power.
Trigger: A god calls out to the Casus Belli, asking for its aid to right a wrong via battle. The triggering god (hereafter referred to as the Wronged) must indicate why they feel they've been wronged, and by whom (a single entity, hereafter referred to as the Wrong-doer). Simply demanding the artifact's aid is a sure way to *not* receive its assistance.
Effect: The Casus Belli polls nearby gods, starting with those closest to the Wronged and the Wrong-doer. Polled gods may either agree that the Casus Belli is valid (i.e., the causes for the battle are just), dissent that the Casus Belli is irrelevant (i.e., the Wronged is foolhardy, over-aggressive, or was not truly wronged), or abstain. If the Wronged god receives "agrees" from two separate gods (or two more "agrees" than "dissents" if more than two respond), the Casus Belli immediately starts Divine Combat on behalf of the Wronged against the Wrongdoer, generating two Divine Combat PP for this express purpose (one to start the battle, and one point for the Wronged's bidding-pool), after which combat proceeds normally. The Casus Belli does not care who wins or loses the conflict, simply that the conflict was justified.
After Hulna was done and Aaviz fell to the ground, he muttered lowly. "You know, that was an unpleasant experience." Reaching feebly for his hat, he missed the brim, plunging his hand inside. "What? Well, I remember you. Would have been useful if I had pulled that out sooner."
Giving one final tug, her jerked his hand out of his hat, pulling something along with it before he passed out.
Schi'vya gazed towards Syreene's direction, and noticed that she/he was transforming into more of a masculine figure-- a male figure. This caught her by complete surprise, as she gasped in fraught. "What in Wind's name is happening to you, dear Goddess of Spring?"
As the new god found his power, he smiled with jagged and broken fang protruding form his over large mouth on the other assembled gods. He began to laugh long and load, so load the floating continent began to shake and threatens to crumble. Finally the new god became silent, then his voice boomed forth.
I AM UMBART AND I LIVE ONCE MORE!
~Mishway~
Raindrops like the soft pitter-patter of little feet. The sky is falling on us all.
“It’s going to be a rough one tonight my friend.”
Parasol twirls in porcelain fingers as she settles in for the ride. Bright sheen of moisture at the hairline. It’s not from the rain. Lips twitch and purse, fretting, half-forming words but forgetting, always forgetting. Free hand nervously fixes and adjusts her skirts convulsively, subconsciously. It’s a tough thing to wait for, the end of the world.
“Shouldn’t be too long now, my darling.”
A purplish squid clings to her carefully cultivated up do, bright starfish and pearly shells stuck on like tiny jewels. Her bodice is similarly decorated and her gown was matching shades of midnight blue and purple. At least she’d dressed appropriately. Then again, what does one wear to the apocalypse?
“I’m so glad I found you, found you in time for this.”
A gentle, nuzzling nose, black and wet. Two brown, watery eyes. A crown, draped across the horns in a charmingly awkward fashion. He edged in closer to his mistress. They make an odd sort of pair, sitting upon the great speckled mushroom. Almost like a family.
“I do believe it’s about to begin.”
And as she speaks, the crying skies unleash their weighty burden. Gouts of rain and fury fall upon the maddened sea, which rises as a mighty beast towards the heaving sky. The winds whip and tear at the world as through determined to rip the very fabric of reality asunder. It seemed very likely they would succeed. Then spots of nothing begin to fleck the mighty sky, and for a moment, she truly believed she was going blind. Then the spots became holes, and then gaping craters in the whirling heavens, in the sundered world. He sidles in closer and she holds him tight.
“Don’t be afraid.”
The water and winds surges at the craters, determined to… what? She didn’t know. Fill them up? Seal them off? Or maybe, just maybe, the wind and rain itself was determined to escape, escape this twisted, blasted landscape.
“It’ll all be all right.”
The world is a maelstrom of chaos. Winds toss the mighty seas, trees torn from their primordial moorings dance the currents of air and all about a terrible keening scream fills the ears. But amidst the chaos, the gaping, yawning holes of nothing remain constant, unmoved by the elements unleashed. Like great black eyes they merely stare, stare at the Queen and at her King. And together the two stare back.
“It’s only the end of the world.”
The World Warp begins now
The Warp is upon us! You may move whatever you wish (including yourself) to the new (empty) plane at any point this week, but such a trip is a one-way affair. We'll have a few other things happening this week as well, so keep a look in the OOC thread for details.
As the planes neared one another, they began to twist towards one another, drag slowing the portions that were already interacting and the momentum of the rest of the plane pushing the planes such that soon they were paralell to one another, and yet still on a collision course. A dull red glow began to grow between the two planes as with each passing minute the strain on the planar boundaries increased.
Umbart looked down on the fallen form of Aaviz and cocked his head to the side.
I know you, why are here?
Gingerly Umbart picked the torpid god and set him on his feet. When Aaviz fail to stand Umbart righted him and breathed a small amount of his own life into the now hatless god.
Are you the one who returned me to life?
-1PP Aid to Aaviz helps him wake up before permanent harm comes to him. This counts as aid in combat to Aaviz against Hulna.
6/7
This. This felled you?
Slowly Umbart walked over to giant brain.
Hulna you said. You felled a mighty wizard I salute you. I am sorry if I disrupted you dual, please carry on or be happy with you victory.
Then Umbart gives a small bow to Hulna.
~Mishway~
"We should definitely get 'him' back to his grove." Schi'vya looked at the others with trembling fear.
She felt a raindrop flow right through her form and splatter on the ground. The clouds above darkened, and rain was soon trickling down in a calm pace. "A summer rain." But it's not even summer yet? What does that mean?
Looking over Umbart carefully, he frowned. "I know I know you. I'm absolutely positive about it. But I can't remember a thing. Not where you came from or where we met, or why I'd want to pull you out of my hat in the middle of a fight. Though, by your appearance, you are probably pretty good in a fight, which might have been the reason I reached for you, but then, I can't remember that either. Really irritating, actually. I wonder if I can't puzzle it out with a bit of time and effort."
Slowly at first, he reached out his finger and began drawing hastily on the air, leaving golden calculations, scribbles, and notes hanging in the air behind his as he slowly tried to work out whatever he was talking about. Hesitating for a moment, he glanced around. "Odd. Usually, I write in blue. Also, does anyone else smell something odd?" Focusing his eyes, he looked serious for the first time in a while. "Almost like grass and flowers. But those things don't exist here. Why would I be smelling them?"
Shaking his head and shrugging, he resumed his work.
Kiquer, Culthet
As the less organized mindflayers were receiving handouts from the gods, the mindflayers of Nihiliath were making advancements through their own hard work. Some of Nihiliath's most powerful psions gathered into a group dedicated to controlling other minds, which came to be known as the Academy of the Flayed Minds.
One day, Alkerzilak, a member of the Academy, was meditating on the coastline when a giant horned creature the likes of which he had never seen approached. Ahh crap. he thought. Having no prior knowledge of this creature, he was woefully unprepared to fight it. His only hope was to escape. Hang on. a voice said in his mind. There must be a way to control this thing. Try touching its mind. He heeded the voice and touched the creature's mind. He could see no real rational thought to influence, only some ingrained instincts. Look closer. the voice commanded. And so he did, and he noticed a vague pattern similar to logic. However, because the instinct was so ingrained in the creature's mind, he was unable to influence it, unless... Yes. said the voice you must fuse your mind with this creature's. Empty your mind and concentrate...
...and suddenly, Alkerzilak was no longer just himself. He was the creature as well. He could perceive what it perceived, think what it thought, all the while retaining control over both bodies. This is a trick I gotta show the others. he thought.
And Ur smiled mischeviously at the plan she had put into play. Her father had used her as little more than a teaching assistant. Now she would be in a position of ultimate power. All she had to do was wait...
Ordarak-Rek, Culthet
Hulna smiled at this new god. "I appreciate your recognition of my strength. Now if you'll excuse me, this fellow has annoyed me to no end and needs to be taught a lesson." He punctuated the last sentence by sending telepathic needles of pain into Aaviz's skull.
4 PP + 1 PP from Ur.
-2 PP Found Organization: Academy of the Flayed Minds, an order of psionc creatures dedicated to messing with people's minds. Nihiliath.
-2 (1 from Ur) PP Teach Populace: Nihiliath learns how to permanently merge their minds with those of animals, a process reffered to as animancy. The conjoined consciousness is ruled by the most powerful of the minds. The consciousness can have only two bodies at a time (for now), but can have as many minds as neccessary.
0 PP Ascend Hero: Alkerzilak, discoverer of animancy.
-1 PP Attack God: Aaviz gets the worst headache ever.
Culthet, the Hive
The trilobite scuttled down the dark hall, its many legs carrying it slowly but surely to its destination. It was a dangerous thing for a trilobite to wander the halls of the Hive alone, what with the skimmers on the prowl... not to mention more natural predators like the warrior ants and centipedes. But this was important... this was worth the risk.
Panting a little as it entered the much more friendly looking tribal chamber, the trilobite stopped in front of one of the elders, antennae twitching in urgency.
"Elder Missing-leg," it began to speak telepathically... so distraught was the trilobite it had not thought to send its thoughts sooner! "It is as you say, the odd sense we've been having through our psionic multi-neural network is not something among the trilobites, but the result of a third party! The storms have picked up, the insects are restless, the skimmers seem to be simply milling about confused as though something were interfering with their metallic senses... something is happening."
Missing-leg let out a chittering roughly equivalent to a sigh, antennae twitching in the air in a sign of worry. "I was afraid of this, Quick-legs," the elder thought sadly. "Something this potent must be bad for the trilobites, and the Hive at large. What is more, Streamlined-shell-for-swimming has reported that though the storm has increased everywhere, and the influence on our senses the same, it is far more strong in the Hive."
Quick-legs was so distraught it answered the Elder in chittering and slightly muffled speech. "Are you saying that whatever is causing all of this, the source is from the Hive?!"
"No..." the Elder thought carefully. "The energy is not coming from the Hive... or anywhere else on Culthet. Rather, it is coming TO everywhere on Culthet, and drawing it... somewhere else. By the power of the energy of the Hive, it seems as though whatever this energy is... it will effect the Hive first and foremost."
Quick-legs cocked his head segment in confusion... which basically meant his eyes twisted a little bit within his shell, having a hard shell was good against predation but made emotive gestures difficult. "Are you saying that-"
Quick-legs didn't even have time to finish his sentence. For at that very moment the entire Hive just seemed to... shake. And dislocate. From the outside, it would seem as though a field of white just encapsulated the whole structure, before the white basically just inverted in color, making the entire Hive look like it had been hit with the 'invert color' tool in a software application. It'd basically then collapse in on itself, leaving nothing but ocean behind. From the inside, however, it was pure pandemonium, shaking and tearing and a brief moment of being HERE and THERE at the same time, before...
Silence. There was no longer any shaking... nor was there any sounds of wind tunnels, or monsoon tunnels, or the storm outside.
Quick-legs was one of the first trilobites to recover from the ordeal, getting onto his leg segments and shaking his carapace to try and recover from the entire ordeal. He ignored his fellows for now, instead walking towards the tunnel that would take him outside, beyond the boundaries of the Hive. He needed to see, he could feel something different, he had to...
Woah. Stopping on the 'balcony' of stone, Quick-legs stared out at the familiar waters of Cuthlet... which quickly gave off into absolutely nothing. Just blackness... no color... no life... nothing. The Hive was intact, and there was hair. The Mother, there was even water! But the water just ignore physics, forming a little half bubble on the bottom of the Hive, before also giving off into pure, unbroken darkness.
"Elder... you need to see this," Quick-legs sent telepathically, not being able to root his eyes from the sight.
******
Culthet
"Stop it! All of you!" the Mother flat out yelled. "We're supposed to be Mothers, yet here you all are squabbling like mere larvae! Why are you even doing any of this! It's ruining the community we have all built, and... and..."
Something was... wrong. She felt like a huge part of herself had just... vanished. Disappeared into nothingness. "E...excuse me," the Mother implored, before sprouting her wings and buzzing off towards the Hive. This was... this was flat out impossible! Wasn't it?
0PP - Move the Hive to the new merged plane... of course, with nothing else in there at all, the effects are... disturbing.
Pain, or merely disconfort, that's what he felt after the divine being went crashing trough its form, shattering the immaterial body of the Living Dark. Many others was there, powerful and yet still ruled by emotions, like everyone else on Mishway...
Blood, fights, war and laws, so many alien concepts have appeared in the world, all in a few days, the Living Darkness wondered why everything was changing so fast...
Time... A lot of time... the Dark spent that time in gathering again the tiny fragments of its body, dispersed again... This time, however, it decided to forge a new form for itself, one that could talk and commune with the other gods assembled there, they were its family after all.
The dark wrapped around the light, twisting and forcing it to follow a pattern, a shell that the Living Darkness could use to hide as welll as to commune with the gods or mortals... At first it appeared as a formless cloud of light and darkness, swirling without any apparent purpose. Some of the god essence went lost, dispersing in the process, independent, but still looking for a fixed form.
Finally after some time spent learning how to force itself into a coherent shape, the Dark managed to forge for itself a new form. Taking inspiration from his fellow gods it choose an humanoid shape, a thin bald male, with sharp features and pointed ears, with a white and smooth skin, black, mildly pointed and well cured, beard and mustaches, dressed in plain, but fine black clothes, with tiny golden and white embroideries. The dark itself was hidden under the skin of its new shape, invisible, but in the shades among its clothes and within its iris-less eyes.
"Mother? Or Father I guess..." it told, smiling with its lips, but with its eyes apparently staring in the void, at the god(goddes) of seasons. "I beg your pardon for choosing too late to manifest me to you, I felt quite... confused. Things are changing so fast, don't you think? It is like when two different parts of the same tale come together, light and darkness, summer and winter... Amazing and yet frightening at the same time... What shall we do?"
~Mishway, somewhere else~
"... and so the Black Mish took the unruly child with him, never to be seen again, while the good young lady who listened to her mother and father wise advices was safe at home." Harold, finished telling the bedtime story to his sleepy daughter, praying the gods that she was finally ready to sleep.
"And what happened to the Black Man?" she replied.
"Who knows... He is still around, taking bad children that does not want to sleep away, maybe he is watching us too..." he told, lowering his voice like a whisper "You don't want him to come won't you?"
"Nou..."
"Well, so sleep well my little angel"
The eyes of her daugher was shout when Harold closed the door, finally she was falling asleep, Harold was a busy Mish, he could not waste all the night putting his daughter asleep, expecially one night when his wife, Dora, was visiting her sister. Finally he could safely spend some time with Helen, that beautiful woman he has met at Sir Jhon party a few weeks ago.
"Daddy!"
"What do you want my angel?" he replied sobbing, he was almost out of their house and was thinking about what he was going to do with Helen that night.
"The Black Mish is here"
"Be a nice girl and he will go away..."
"But daddy..."
"Be a nice girl" he shouted.
"Ookey..."
He waited for a few more seconds, putting his feathered hat on his head and his fine coat on his back.
"Daddy?"
"Yes..."
"He went away!"
"You see my dear... now sleep well..."
He replied, closing the door behind his shoulders and walking hastly trough the small and dark alleys that divided his home from the one of lady Helen. It was raining, a stormy night, he has heard weird stories about the storm, but he did not care, he has more important things to think about.
"You are such a vivid storyteller" a cold voice addressed him from the back of the alley.
"What?" he replied, with an hungry voice, toughtening the grip on his cane.
"Yes, I like your fine description, the ragged coat, the black skin and gloves, the white smile, the cold voice and feathered hat... you shoud have been a successful bard..."
"A bard... I'm..."
"Really... You should, so sad it is too late" he told, walking slowly, but producing no sound, in the light of the lantern so that Harold could see his black bald head... The newcomer was smiling, his teeth smooth, pointed and white as purcelain.
Harold wanted to run away but he could not, he was almost entranced by the visitor, it could not be...
"Have you been a good child Harold?" he told, with a voice as cold as a winter night, clear despite the rain and thunders.
"I have done nothing wrong!" he protested...
"Really..." the Mish replied, still smiling, closing in, putting his right hand to the shoulder of harod"
........
A few moments later the Black Mish was looking at the unconscious form of Harold, fear has made the man faint, it smiled... liking this shape, he only lacked something, he took the hat from the head of the unlucky mish, a feathered hat, not unlike the one in the badtime tale.
"This should work" the Black Mish muttered to himself, smiling as usual, putting the hat on his head.
........
2 PP Spawn Paragon creatures "Dread Shades", fractions of the Living Darkness these beings roam the world, formless until they find something that catches their attention, assuming the form that others find scary and usetting, usually "giving life" to horror or badtime tales, feeding on the tale and the fear it generates.
Horrified at this, what seemed the end of their God, the Death Titans of Durmidor fled back towards the stone towers of Argenium, the vast city that housed the fallen tiles from the Dream. Scribes dropped their quills and rushed into the hallways in their hundreds and thousands as the sound of panicked feet filled the city.
The center of Durmidor, surrounded by a vast curtain wall of thick granite that nowhere was less than eighty feet thick, appeared as a massive dome, covered with fungal torches to give light. Inside this fastness, Osald, the Voice of God, sat upon a throne of silver inlaid with pure gold. Platinum traceries adorned his ceremonial armor, good steel with elegant words picked out in black opals. The words were "Prophet", "Might", and "Glory", the credo of this Voice. Each Voice, father and son as the line progressed, chose their own words, their own prayer in the service of Davos.
Now though, the Dream had gone dark.
Osald opened his mouth, white teeth flashing against gray skin, to order the Watchers, those who protected the trains moving the great silver panels, into the city to restore order. Before the words could pass his lips, however, a titanic shock hit the city. The walls of the Caverns splintered and water rushed through, accompanied by a wriggling mass of Thrill Worms. A few unlucky Titans drowned, their lives leeched away by the cold, dark waters.
A second shock, even great than the first, ripped through Durmidor, throwing Osald from his throne. A great, rumbling crash told the Voice that the outer gate had fallen.
"Watchers, get into the streets, I want everyone in their homes in three hours. After that, kill anyone who's out. The Storehouse of the Dream shall not fall."
A Death Titan in steel armor covered with a blue lacquer saluted and walked rapidly out of the room, spear already in his mailed fist.
All around the city of Durmidor, the waters washed, the masonry held them, but just barely.
---------------
Decades later, a great famine struck the city. Salt deposits had dissolved into the water used to feed their fungus farms, and before anyone realized it, half the crop was gone. Soon, the poorest of the Titans were reduced to eating the centipedes that sometimes skittered around alleys. Eventually, even those ran out. Quelling their revulsion, some few began drying and eating Thrill Worms, the whip thin slime covered creatures in the ocean water.
Soon, those who ate the worms began to experience heightened alertness, sometimes they ate too many, lost control of the effect and went mad, but more often they became stronger and faster, if only for a short time. Within days, dried Thrill Worms began to show up on the plates of the more daring of the upper classes, and within a year, a new industry had been born.
PP
0PP- Warp the Caverns of Davos
0PP-Warp Davos
2PP-Teach Populous: Thrill Dust (It's a drug.)
2PP (one from the Dream)- Teach Populous: Death Titans become extremely good at building fortifications
1PP-Spawn Beast, Minor: All sorts of creepy crawlies start wriggling around it Durmidor
He came out in a place that was completely alien to him, There was nothing at all That he could say was familiar. As he looked upon the blank state he crossed his legs and started to meditate. It was going to take some thought before he did anything.
Umbart looked around the assemblage of gods and seamed distrubed. He then spread his feet and grew to great size, so much so that he stradled the entire floating continent. The continent twisted and tilted beneath his feet and some of the edges even broke and crumbled. These still enormous rocks flew wildly out into the sky and became a seprate floating islands the spread far and wide over Culthet. From his lofty perch Umbart raised his hand to his eyes and survayed the entire world. After a few moments of this Umbart returned to natural size.
Aaviz, why have you brought me to this crumbling and doomed world.
turning to the rest of the gods
What is happening to this place?
-2 PP several dozen large floating islands are created form the ruined edges of the floating continent.
4/7
~Mishway~
Schi'vya noticed smeone from behind shouting towards her direction. She took a peek to find another god(ling?) standing next to a withering tree. She noticed that the ground itself was starting to wither and... Warp?
The ground started to twist and turn unnaturally; it was as if the laws of nature had been broken. She saw the trees and the grass disappear into what was soon to become a black Nothingness.
She gasped and flew over the gaping hole. She grabbed the god by the arms and flew him towards her home-- where it was safe for now. She had no idea what was coming...
Schi'vya and Clastron were at the center of the Stormbridge Colosseum. "Are you all right, young one?" She glanced around. Several Air Elementals came to their aid.
"Master! Something terrible is happening to the world! We're seeing black holes in the sky-- getting bigger and bigger every moment!"
Schi'vya looked up and noticed that there were many black dots in the sky. What in the world is happening?
The Bryofites who had been visiting the hive in greater and greater numbers were even more distraught than the Trilobites, for not only were they in an unfamiliar place, but the constant presence of The City was gone. Reeling, their now-separated minds reached out towards one another, blending and fusing together to form a new lump of Bryofite matter deep within the caverns of the Hive.
~Culthet~
Itja-Rek watched as The Mother streaked off towards the hive and began to follow, but the two gods had barely gone more than a mile when suddenly there was a loud sucking noise.
Itja-Rek looked upwards to see the storm clouds churning about a point in space as if a massive drain had just become unplugged. In the center of the storm was blackness beyond blackness, and the two gods watched in shock as the storm clouds spilled across this hole and beyond. The motion grew faster and faster, lightning flashing in all directions, thunder booming across the heavens...
And then: Silence, and the dull red sun of Culthet beat down on the surface for the first time, casting the entire plane in lurid light.
"What..." Itja-Rek gasped, looking over at The Mother with horror.
What was going on?
1 PP: Nourish Populace: The Bryofites living in the Hive are severed from the main City and form their own smaller community with their own small 'City-like' overlord.
0 PP: The storms of Culthet vanish!
Culthet
What was this?? The storms had vanished! The Mother paled with dread as she remembered her dire premonition back among the other gods, about the entire food chain and course of nature being thrown out of whack by the absence of the storm. Hopefully she had been wrong...
"I do not know!" the Mother replied, panicking. "The very course and flow of nature is amok! I do not know how... my Children!" she remembered suddenly, coursing back towards the Hive in the now clear, dry air.
Of course, when she got there, there was nothing but... well, nothing. No Hive, no storm, no... sea? The sea just seemed to cut off at some point in a vaguely Hive like shape, as though held by an invisible barrier! And there seemed to be some kind of... residue. She could not describe it, nor explain it.
Turning back to the Itja-Rek, it was all the Mother could do not to faint. Her Children... her beautiful, wonderful Children, they were... they were... "The Itja-Rek, do you know what happened? Any idea at all? Please!" she implored, giving off positively miserable pheromones... the Itja-Rek was the wisest of them all. If any of them knew what had happened, it would be he...
******
Incomplete world: the Hive, exterior
So hungry... so hungry... it could smell it. A smell it had not smelled in far too long... the smell of prey. The smell of... reality. Its kind had drifted alone in the void for so long, sooooo long... they preyed on reality, but reality itself projected a force it could not penetrate. They were not of the world, or any any world, buy beyond it... the last time they had managed to pierce the film of reality, and devour what lay within, the cursed world had split in two half way through their feeding in order to protect itself. And so they had been stuck between the two halves, mindlessly hissing as they banged on the field of reality, trying to get through and eat. Eat. EAT!
It could smell reality... and this reality was outside of its field! There were still fields, but this... 'new' world was yet incomplete. There were holes. Risks. And opportunities...
Quick-legs looked out at the... well, nothing. The blackness. He was now a part of a search party, that had taken to crawling on the outside of the Hive to try and get to the top... to see out there and see if there was even a part of reality to be seen. So far, no such luck... wait, was that... a small patch of ocean out there? It looked like it! But it was so far away... and not connected to their Hive at all. It was like someone was patching together a quilt, but as doing so with numerous little patches that weren't connected, before linking together yet more patches to link them all into one quilt. It was strange... and rather-
His thoughts were interrupted as a massive... thing just dropped out of nowhere, picking up a trilobite in one claw and ripping its head segment off in its mouth with one swift motion! It was... big. Real big. And mean looking... and gray. It seemed to have a dozen eyes, two tongues that seemed as barbs, pincers like a scorpion, an exoskeleton that seemed to be skin at the same time, three reptilian tails, eight insectoid legs, and the wings of a bird. It was simply... impossible. Bizarre, monstrous, impossible... and hungry.
Not knowing what else to do, the trilobites began throwing their kherim at the monster, trying to bring it down. But the thing was too powerful, the weapons barely making a dent on it as it continued to eat trilobite after trilobite into its powerful, three mouthed muzzle (each mouth had two tongues). In a panic, one trilobite lashed out at it with psionic energy... which amazingly, seemed to stun the creature, and cause it great pain! It was vulnerable to psionics! The trilobites were so used to fighting creatures with resistance to their talents, or with greater talents than they of the mind making their own powers redundant, that they hadn't even thought to use them!
Blasting the monster with some more psionic attacks, the trilobites crawled back into the Hive, the creature chasing after them... before as though hitting an invisible wall going into the tunnel. It seemed though the exterior of the Hive was open to the Nothing, the interior was real enough to provide protection against the thing.
Hissing discontently, the beast spread its wings and flew off into the void. It had fellows... hopefully as a pack they could snag more than a quick meal...
3PP - Spawn Epic (Zero-Zone Beasts) - Zero-Zone beasts are creatures that live in the void between and beyond worlds, that feed on reality, or more accurately anything real. Stone, creatures, water, metal, they are all a tasty meal to them. Fortunately, reality tends to erect a 'reality field' through which horrors that are beyond it cannot penetrate without outside aid or random happenstance.
Aaviz watched, surprised as the clouds below him vanished, and worse, his carefully formed calculations began to dissolve into the air, spraying outward in a thin haze of golden energy. Frustrated, he cast the energy at Hulna, ceasing the psionic assault.
"I was in danger of being hurt by that annoying black bitey brain, and I wasn't away that I was a powerful wizard. Of course, I still don't know that, but you said it, so I assume it's true. ANyways, you are absolutely right, this world is in a lot of trouble, a lot of trouble indeed. I figured out it was a partial world when I first arrived, but I had no idea just how dangerous it might be. Everything is being consumed by something or another. We really only have two choices. Either we head for the core of the disruption and try top stabilize it somehow, or we head into the nothingness and hope the disruption doesn't rend us to pieces. Either way, there is one I must speak too, absolutely, absolutely and immediately."
With whispering demand, he called to his friend. "Itja-Rek, Mother, come to me! It is most urgent!"
Sonnet blinked, and suddenly, Caltabactos was gone. "I can handle her from here on." said the god, staggering to his feet. "Now is not the time for a happy reunion -- can't you see we have larger issues?"
Sonnet clasped effeminate hands over zer ears as another hole appeared almost directly above the small gathering. The rift made no sound of its own, but the whistling, whipping roar the wind made as it was sucked, violently, into the vortex was near deafening.
Sonnet's eyes were nearly squeezed shut with the force, so he felt more than saw as the newly minted Casus Belli was pulled upwards towards, and then through, the hole.
"Retreat!" cried Sonnet, unsure if anyone else could even hear him over the din. "Regroup elsewhere. I fear this place is lost." Sonnet teleported away in a burst of autumn leaves as the planar rift began to expand.
He landed at the Triskelion's peak, in the middle of a surprised circle of exarhcs. At once, the six dropped to their knees to varying cries of "Lord Sonnet // Lady Syreene".
The god staggered a few steps as he adjusted to the sudden change in noise, pressure, and chaos. He clutched at a nearby tree, eventually halting so as to catch his breath.
After a few moments, Lynne Wind spoke up: "What in Autumn's Many Colors happened to you? "
-0 PP The Casus Belli warps. It locates itself several meters above the tallest spires of the Hive.
~Mishway~
"Isn't there something we can do, master?"
"There's nothing else that we can do, but pray that this calamity ends..."
The howling winds of the black hloes sucking in anything near them was overwhelming. At first, it felt like the whole colosseum shifted to the side a little, and then it began to move.
The stormbirds flew off the rocks closest to the giant black hole that appeared in the space next to the colosseum.
"The colosseum! It's being dragged into it!"
"Everyone-- off of the colosseum and follow me!" Schi'vya looked down. "This world is lost... All my creations have amounted to nothing..."
She carried Clastron yet again into the air, and the Elementals followed her across the forest towards the Triskelion.
She looked back, as the colosseum was sucked in to the black hole, with some of the stormbirds and elementals that could not break free from the pull of the hole.
Below, the remaining stormbirds flew towards the Triskelion and landed at the furthest reaches of the landform. Schi'vya, Clastron, and her remaining Elementals landed beside Syreene | Sonnet and the Lords and Lyn. "Dammit! What's happening?" She looked out in the horizon where the colosseum used to be.
0pp: Warp Stormbridge Colosseum- The Stormbridge Colosseum gets sucked in to the Third Plane, as it hovers in the nothingness beside the Hive.
Culthet
The Mother did NOT take kindly to the Aaviz calling her, now of all times! Not heeding his call, she instead though back at her rather heatedly.
"The Aaviz, I do not care if you think the Hulna bit you, or if you don't like that they hit you, or anything else! So don't drag me into your problems, because I have my own to deal with! My Children are gone!"
Shaking his head, he hurriedly sent his thoughts back. "No, no, no, this has absolutely nothing to do with the black bitey thing and how annoying I find him. Something is horribly wrong with our world. It's hard to explain, very hard to explain, but I think it's collapsing into a ball of thingness, or dissolving or something. I need a little more time to extract the details, but something is wrong. Sort of reminds me of the time this one god I knew once stole the world away from her siblings while they were fighting against an invading god. I helped in the fight, you know. It was a very dangerous fight and we almost died, but we managed to drive him off, only to find the world was gone. We had to track her down and it took years . . . but never mind that, this is more important."
Culthet
The Mother frowned in thought. "The Aaviz, you have a reputation for being unreliable, so excuse me if I do not simply fly to you at your summons. But what you are saying sounds like it might have some bearing on my Children... please try and slow down and rephrase it in words that I can understand? Are you saying that this world is simply... evaporating, like water?"
Looking out at the world he so recently entered, Umbart give the whole of creation a hard look.
I SHALL NOT BE UNDONE SO EASILY!
Umbart bellowed in to the night, his voice over load with out the din of the storm.
I am mighty I can hold world together but shall need help. Aaviz you brought me back to life so I can test myself once more, I did not expect a test to fierce this quickly. Hulna you a mighty will you assite me keeping the world together?
Opening his eyes, he nodded. "Yes, yes I like this place and have made some creatures I find very amusing. I'm not ready to loose them all yet. Making those things was pretty hard work. Just a moment, I'm trying to get some others to help."
Closing his eyes, he tried to slow his thoughts down. "The . . . world . . . is . . . collapsing . . . into . . . nothing . . . come . . . help . . . I'll . . . try . . . to . . . locate . . . the . . . center. Your children and anything else missing, like the clouds. Odd really, I didn't care for the clouds, but the place seems so wrong without them, doesn't it? It also makes looking down from my continent a much scarier then it should be, really. So hurry, hurry, and come here."
Culthet
THAT was a little easier to understand. "Very well, I will be there shortly," the Mother replied, before... well buzzing off to where she was.
"Very well, I am here," she told the Aaviz. "Your theory had best have a way to get in contact with my children, or else I will be quite displeased you saw fit to waste my time." So she was a little cranky, could you blame her?
Aaviz shook his head and pointed to the clouds. "Look, they are gone. This land I created withers away, slowly crumbling. Your hive is vanished, with all it's creatures going with it. Even my writing on the air withers and and fades as fast as I can work."
Looking up, he watches the red sun's light waver and flicker slightly. "Even the sun above fails. Unless I'm going crazy. Which is a distinct possibility, you know. I've been called crazy before. In fact, I once heard some one say the very concept of someone like me was crazy, so I became who I am just to prove them wrong. Or did my existing prove them wrong? Honestly, I'm not entirely sure and am confusing myself. And it's not really the point either."
Waving his hand a the golden dust hanging in the air, he shrugged. "Anyways, before my calculations faded away, I'm pretty sure they showed a distinct instability in the world around us, which also explains why my writing was golden instead of the intended blue. It also explains why stuff is disappearing and the arrival of all the strange and unknown stuff that appeared out of my hat when I arrived earlier. You know, the dry dirt and the flowers? I have them right here in a pouch if you want to see them. No? Oh well."
Pointing back in the air, and trying to resume his writing, he sighed and frowned as it faded before he could read it. "Anyways, I'm pretty sure that is I arrayed an energy field just right, we could reach the core of this instability, which is probably where all the missing stuff has gone. The problem is, there is no guarantee that we could survive there. And you definitely couldn't come back, unless I came through and even then, there is no guarantee I could open a passage back. Of course, we could go through and try to stabilize it. I suppose such a sacrifice would be honorable and such, even if we never came back. We could be, like, legendary heroes, remembered forever until the end of existence by our peers, who honor our sacrifice, and all that good stuff. You know, I've been a great hero once before, but that was in another place a long long time ago. But it was a fun fun time. I travelled with this really tall and strong women, and this short fat sneaky guy, and even this elderly cleric and another warrior guy. And we fought off an ancient evil dragon by awakening a long lost god who was sleeping beneath a castle, and saved the world."
Greeting large insect, are you beast or are you a God?
Looking around himself and the world Umbart sighed
If it would help I can hold together a world but I would need place to stand outside of the world to do this. If we can not stop it form going through then maybe we can bring the world through whole instead of in pieces that will break.
I can not do this alone, it will take much of my energy just to hoist world on my shoulders.
Do you think this might work?
One moment Harkon had been talking with Hulna and the Insectoidish one. And then, he was gone. Perhaps with all the water about, they hadn't noticed that his little bit of water had vanished.
Where he was, he wasn't sure. He felt as if he had been cut off from himself, from the waters of Culthet. Disoriented, he floated as little more than a vapor through a vast nothingness. He dimly remembered the time before he had been summoned, as water was fading from the dying world. This wasn't like that, though. He wasn't forgetting himself, he was just... lost and directionless.
Drawing himself together, Harkon tried to look around... Nothing. It was too dark to see. He tried to hear... nothing. It was too quiet to hear. He even tried to feel around himself... nothing. There was nothing to feel.
Unable to function, Harkon willed light to manifest. He failed. It was hard to concentrate when there was nothing in existence, as far as he could tell. Instead of trying to create light, he focused on the image of a Light-Lure Jellyfish. One popped into existence, though he wasn't sure if he had called it from Culthet or crafted it anew. The illumination of the creature was not enough, however, to serve his desires. So the Lord of Waters fed his power to the creature and it grew larger and brighter, and larger and brighter still until it illuminated much of this void with a golden brilliance.
Far below him he saw a hive of insects and some water that he could feel was from his home world. He tied was about to tie off the power he had put into the jelly when it occurred to him that it might be a bit too bright; his eyes were hurting already. He pulled a Shadow Eater Jelly from out of nothing as well and fed it his power. As it grew in size, it ate more and more of the Light Lure's illumination.
Though it cast darkness, in time that jelly began to glow of its own accord, a silvery light that was precious. The Light Lure jelly fled its predator, which was too full to follow closely. The further behind it fell, the dimmer its own light became, and in turn the quicker. When the Shadow Eater had turned pitch black again, it began to catch up to the light lure jelly and in time it began to glow again. So the cycle repeated, the Shadow Eater glowing with a silver light whenever it came close to the Light Lure, but then it became overfed and fell behind, only to dim and eventually attempt to catch up again.
Harkon was intrigued by this and set the jellies to forever orbit the watery hive far far below. Before he left he decided to name them. A dream of a memory ticked his mind and he named the Shadow Eater Jelly "Mani," and he named the Light Lure "Sol," though in future ages mortals would simply call them the Moon and the Sun, respectively.
Satisfied, Harkon left the sky to investigate the hive. Even as he traveled he saw new things come into existence, and he even felt the essences of divine beings.
4pp - Greater Artifact: The Sun and the Moon, Genesis artifacts (I figure they are closer to artifacts than exarchs since they are still largely dumb beasts).
looks like I lost 2 pp in the reset, but have 2/6 still remaining
~Warped World~
((Moved to the Mortal Stories Thread))
((Xeadin, this seems a matter better suited for taking into the Mortal Stories thread. I'll post there promptly))
Culthet
"I am a Mother, The Mother Who Is Talking To Me While I Am in A Very Bad Mood Despite Immenient Peril Doing So Puts The Mother Who Is Talking To Me While I Am In A Very Bad Mood In," the Mother practically growled at the stranger. "As it is, holding together this world is completely pointless, since the Children that made it important have vanished!"
The Mother turned back to the Aaviz... she truly could speak drivel at time, but the Mother thought she got the jist of it. "The Aaviz, I will confess that I do not like you. It is nothing personal, it is merely that where you walk, discontent in the community of Mothers seems to follow. I would most likely find you quite fun if not for the cracks you cause amongst the Mothers. But that is neither here nor there. The point is, if you can get us to where my Children are, then do so. I do not care about the risks or consequences, only that I am reunited with my Children. Do this, and I will kiss your feet if that is your wish."
The young god struggled free of Schi'vya's grasp and flew towards the hole. "I wonder what this is." He said to no one in particular. He reached out his hand and touched the hole and then everything went black.
---
Warped World
The godling opened his eyes and looked around. There was grass all over and in the distance he saw a large... mound-thing. He lifted himself into the air and flew over to it. "Hello? Hello?" he called out. "Is there anyone else here? Or am I all alone?"
He suddenly felt an absence, something else going. He checked out, and saw to his horror a large whirlpool forming, pouring water down to fill a space where there was none now.
"Mother, I think we might have bigger problems. Wherever these things are disappearing to, the Leviathan just went there too. And I doubt that it will still be asleep when it arrives. "
He stared at the Mother, willing her to understand this import.
"It could be waking up right now. We need to find this place, and get it calmed down. Or you might not have any children left to nurture."
-0 PP: Moving the Leviathan to the Warped World. It may or may not be awake.
6/6 PP
Umbart looked confusidly at the Mother
You will address me Umbart, as for your children what is point if going to them if there is no world for them to live in. Since this world seams to be destined to go where everything else has gone, why not bring this world that you children already know to them.
Turning to Karak Umbart did not understand what he was seeing then comprehension dawned. He approached the mass of flesh did not like what he saw.
What is the Leviathan, and how can it live with out world to live in. Do you all not understand that even the likes of we need world to live in. Though we can step outside of it for time we still need the world. We must take this world through whole or all will be lost.
looking at the mother
Even you children.
Stomping around the small gathering of gods he looked he each right in (what he thought was) the eye.
I have not yet regain all of my strength so I will need all of you help to hold this world together. Unless you want start over again you will help me!
"Wait, I have an idea." Itja-Rek said suddenly, grabbing a cowering naga and ripping its soul from its body. "Forgive me." he said offhandly, either to the surrounding gods or to the Naga. Putting his fingers into the soul, he replaced all its memories, emotions and even sentience with a simple and uncompromising directive and message.
"Follow me." he said, making his way upwards towards Wenet, ducking into the tunnels and eventually reaching the Soul-Hole that he had seen before. He waved the Reaper off deeper into the tunnels before the others arrived, and shoved the soul through to the beyond.
~Mishway~
The soul of the Naga appeared and made its way to the nearest being of sufficient power.
The Monarch was suddenly bowled over by an unearthly scream from the beyond, a scream that said.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO OUR HOME?"
Lounging upon a mushroom, idly twirling her parasol, the Queen contemplated her options. She had just received a rather intriguing message and was pondering how best to respond. It was quite an odd sort of query too. At first it had been rather puzzling. Now she merely wondered how best to take advantage of the situation. If worlds were crumbling apart into this other space, well...
Yes, she knew about the worlds. In the plural. She didn't know how many, but it was quite obvious to her now that the cosmos could not merely contain her beloved Mishway. No, there were too many things here in this other place that did not hail from her home world. The universe must be like a house, she realized. A vast many-roomed house, with a separate world in each room. Well, if that were true, then someone had just opened up all the doors. No, someone had just taken the house and shaken it like a toy until all the little pieces came out. Came out into where though? Well, that was a question to ponder later she supposed. For now she had that message.
If she was to establish herself as supreme overlord of this chaotic conflux, she would have to act fast. There was no telling what could arrive at any moment.
Well, for one thing she needed a more impressive form. She could hardly expect to rule over the gods as some middle-aged hag. She needed something far more grand and commanding. Not to mention someplace grand to command from. But that was for later. For now she needed to deal with this mysterious message. She answered thusly:
"You speak to the goddess Concordia. Concordia is the Purveyor of All, the Master of Everything and the Harbinger of Eternity. It is Concordia who causes this Warping of Worlds, for all must inevitably fall beneath the immortal gaze of Concordia. But Concordia is nothing if not a merciful lord. Any and all who pledge Eternal Servitude to Concordia shall find their subjects free from the terrible wrath of Concordia.
What say you being from beyond?"
After sending the message, she waited. She had no idea how it would be taken. She could only hope for the best. For now, however, she contented herself with allowing her new form to take slow, gradual shape. There was, after all, no rushing perfection.
Karak felt the message's return echo out of the hole, and it made him very annoyed. He grabbed another soul, a mind-flayer's one this time, and sent it with a message back to this Concordia.
He then turned to the other gods, and posed a simple question.
"How much power would you say we need to stop this from happening?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Warped World~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The soul came out and quickly found the Queen. A message then roared out, the force of it completely shattering the soul it came on.
"Concordia. Nice name, rings a bell from somewhere, not sure where from. Now, I don't know where you come from or who you think you are. In fact, I do know who you are, and that is a fool. Only someone with that many titles could possibly think themselves to be as important as you are. Now, I am Karak. No titles, no fancy airs, nothing. Just Karak. Learn that name well, because I am not alone. I am one of the 3 Eldest, the oldest gods in Culthet. We will not submit, nor will we do what you ask. Why would you think we would? We're not mewling fish, running in terror from a big noise. We are gods, and we will not obey. Oh, you can try to make us bow, kow-towing in front of you. But we will not. Why Would You Think That We Would? We Don't Know Who You Are, Or If You Even Can Control This. I Doubt That You Can Send Anything Our Way, BUT WE CAN SEND THINGS YOUR WAY. NOW STOP THIS RIGHT NOW. STOP TAKING OUT WORLD AWAY FROM US. STOP DESTORYING WHAT WE MADE. STOP TREATING US LIKE MEWLING FLAYERS. BECUASE WE WILL NOT PLEDGE ANYTHING. WE WILL NOT ACCEPT YOUR MERCY. WE WILL BE THE SAME AS YOU, OR YOU WILL BE DEAD. CHOOSE."
The light of Sol beat down on the fragments of a world below. A handful of Zero-Zone beasts were about and when the light hit them, they shrieked in anger. The light existed, it was reality, and the force of existence pushed them away from their prizes.
Harkon slithered his way down from the sky, looking far and wide to see what was there. In the distance he spotted a strange being, unlike anything he had seen before, but their was a particular feel to them, that old familiar essence of a god. Tenitively, he approached. The creature seemed a little distracted, but the Lord of Waters announced himself.
"Greetings there, my good... thingy. I don't believe we have met. I am Harkon Armal. May I ask in turn your name and the nature of this place?"
Hearing the Monarch's words from afar Umbart glared at the sky and snarled. Then he turned back to assembled gods on the floating continent.
I will not submit to a voice form beyond. However I do not know if I can keep our world here.
I can however keep it for most part whole. I veiwed the world form on high in it is not well defined. There is rock below, water in the middle and air above. Things go on to void this way. What we need to is define the very shape of the world and once we do I will grow large enough to heave it onto my shoulders. I can define the world has huge plate, but that will task me to limits. Some one must take us out the world and give me place to stand so that I may hold it above my head. Also I think a way to keep the all the water from rolling over edge might help. I could do without all wet, but it seams important to this place.
Once the world's shape is set I will try and hold it here but more importanly I will hold together even as we all fly into the void.
Once my battlefie, I mean our world, is safe I will show this Concordia the meaning of war. I feel that I am with the oldest of my kin here shall we take our world to Concordia and then throw him form it?
Stoping for moment when he realized that one of The Three had left he bade the wind carry his words to Itja-Rek.
Vile ball of curroption that I do not know and Mother, shall we follow the eldest, or shall we continue or summit here? Aaviz figure a way for me step beyond this world with out harming it or leaving it entirely.
A jet of mud and water exploded into the Void, a plume many thousands of meters wide. Davos stretched out his senses, and found the Leviathan within. The creature, a Proto-God, bursting with divinity greater than any save the lords of creation themselves, began to throw off the chains of slumber.
No, this will not do. This will not do at all.
The Worm exuded a pseudopod, dripping ink, and seized a Zero-Zone beast that wandered too close. The digit shuddered into motion with blurring the matter around it.
Slumber. Quell thy Rage. Remake the Chains of Lassitude.
These and many more were scribed into the flesh, and indeed the very soul of the Zero-Zone beast before a flick of fleshy tentacle and the thing hurtled into the lowering plume of water. Moments later, Davos felt the Leviathan subside.
Then a call, words perhaps not meant for his ears, but that fell upon them anyway. He responded.
Harkon Armal... I am Davos, The Worm. I come from Culthet, a world that now seems, to be here, at least in part. Whence have you come?
Culthet
The Mother looked blankly at both the Karak and the Umbart. "You are both fools," she said simply. "Whatever this moving of worlds it, it is clear that it is already happening... if we were to stop it now, I would never be reunited with my Children. If we were to try and mold the world without knowing what we are doing, we could crush them with out efforts. This entire thing, though... apocalyptic, seems to be natural. And as I said to the Ordek, it is always best to merely let nature run its course as opposed to meddling with it."
Turning to the Aaviz, the Mother nodded. "Follow me, the Aaviz. You seem to be my only hope," she noted, before buzzing off towards the Hive... which they soon enough got to.
~Warped World~
The light of Sol beat down on the fragments of a world below. A handful of Zero-Zone beasts were about and when the light hit them, they shrieked in anger. The light existed, it was reality, and the force of existence pushed them away from their prizes.
Harkon slithered his way down from the sky, looking far and wide to see what was there. In the distance he spotted a strange being, unlike anything he had seen before, but their was a particular feel to them, that old familiar essence of a god. Tenitively, he approached. The creature seemed a little distracted, but the Lord of Waters announced himself.
"Greetings there, my good... thingy. I don't believe we have met. I am Harkon Armal. May I ask in turn your name and the nature of this place?"
"Hello Harkon Armal, I'm... I'm... Clastron. Yes, I like that name. And as for this place, I no nothing of it. I just arrived. You see, first I was in a magic cloud and no one would talk to me, then the building fell down and the lady picked me up and flew away, but I wanted to see the pretty black holes and I wiggled out and touched them and then I was here." The godling paused for a moment "Harkon Armal, would you answer a question for me? What am I?"
~Warped World~
"Davos?" Harkon though as he rolled the name around in his mind. The look of the god reminded him of a name from impossible ages past, the name Ongor. But nothing more came to mind, so the lord of waters shoved that aside... perhaps it was nothing more than a name from a dream.
"From Culthet, too, hail I. It would seem that we have both fallen through the world. Parts of that world are here, true true, but other things too." Harkon pointed with his watery tale towards the floating coliseum. "That place feels different, its waters are not my waters."
"Do you know what this place is, or how we've come to be here?"
Another essence approached Harkon and Davos and introduced itself.
"Clastron... Calstron..." Harkon said as he savored the flavor of the word. Bleh, it was earthy and metallic... though, he supposed, not everyone could have a fine, watery name, now could they? But there was something else to the name, and to the appearance of the god as well. The name was spiced with an indefinable otherness.
"It is tolerable to meet you," the Lord of Waters replied. He didn't mean to come across as rude, but that otherness spice disturbed him. The name felt like that coliseum: it felt foreign, other, wrong. "As for what you are... ... I'm not sure. May I?"
Without waiting, Harkon washed over Clastron, drawing upon all his senses to divine the answer. Yes, this one was different, its waters told him as much. When the god came away there were faint but vibrant swirls of water in his form. "You are a pink and fleshy." Harkon bobbed his front end to emphasize the wisdom of his statement.
"But will you answer a question for me now? You are not from Culthet, this I can taste. Where do you come from?"
"I don't know what it is called. There were trees and other... things like me. It was too crowded. I like this place better. Except for one thing. I liked the trees. I think I shall make some here." Clastron waved his hand and fully grown trees apeared everywhere. Clastron admired his handywork. "Hmm, it's still missing something... I know! It needs people! Like us just... weaker." The god bent down and picked up a handful of dirt. He molded it into the shape of a man, then threw it on ground. It just lay there for a minute, then it began to grow. It grew until it was the size of a man, then stood up and brushed itself off. The dirt fell away revealing a man! "Oo! I like that, though I should probably make more of them." So he did. He made more dirt statues and turned them into humans. When he had made ten of them, he stopped and turn to the other gods. "What do you think?"
3 PP shape: Clastron creates humans.
This was not how it was supposed to go!Why did she never get her way? It wasn't fair! She worked and worked and worked, and for what? So she could get spat at by some otherworldly goon? No, she didn't think so. This was by no means her swan song. The Queen definitely had some other tricks up her sleeve.
"Then come face Concordia head on, you coward! Why hide behind your extraplanar bulwarks when you can come force and face Concordia like a true god?
Oooh, yes, that was good. She liked that!
You are nothing but a rancid slug beneath the foot of the all-powerful Concordia! Your creations have all been sucked into a nightmare that is entirely at the behest of Concordia! And now, Concordia shall destroy all you have worked for!
Oh, yes, give 'em the emotional trip. Good, very good.
While you stand idly by when you could have saved them! And just like your mother before you, you shall be locked in eternal torment!"
Very good, go after his mother! How vile of you!
Now that's good, the Queen thought. Thinking back on it, she wasn't quite sure where the comment about his mother had come from, but she decided she liked it for the effect it gave. She wasn't quite sure exactly what kind of effect it gave, but she was sure it gave one. And that she liked it...
Moving on to more pressing matters, the Queen need to create a convincing Concordia. Now, obviously she could no longer be Concordia, but she had an idea to take advantage of the situation. But she needed the Egg-Tree for this.
Almost as soon as she thought of this, it appeared, hovering right nearby, clinging to a small mound of earth with a multitude of roots. Numerous eggs hung from its branches, but one in particular caught her eye: a large bronze one with golden spots. The Queen plucked this egg from its spot and rolled it onto her lap, which was rather difficult given the size of the thing. She began to stroke the egg and coo softly to it. After all, there was no raising a baby if one didn't have the proper motherly instinct.
4 PP Spawn Beast (Superior) Concordia, Harbinger of Eternity.
Itja-Rek shook his head as The Mother and Aaviz sped off towards whatever had once been the Hive and called out after them.
"Friends, I am from that other place, and the Otherness will destroy you! Whatever this process is, it surely cannot be natural, for it would appear that we have a presence, this Concordia, that is directing its actions from afar. If your Children still live, Mother, they are hostages of this being, and perhaps we can arrange a trade... something of ours in return for their safe return and the survival of this world."
Mere seconds later, the message from the beyond washed over them.
"My, Karak. What did you say?" he said, eying the other god while plucking a soul from his body. He filled it with a message and sent it through to the other side.
~The Warped World~
The Monarch soon was greeted by another soul, it split open, revealing its message before dissapating.
"Concordia. My name is Itja-Rek, and I come to offer you a trade, as well as an apology for any way we have wronged you in the past. We request both the verification of life and the return of the beings known as the Trilobites, as well as the cessations of the destruction of our world. In return, I am willing to listen to your demands."
~Culthet~
Itja-Rek waited for an answer, then turned to Karak.
"Have you seen Harkon Armal lately?"
Karak then turned and followed The Mother and Aaviz.
"And, shall we go and meet this Concordia?"
~Warped World~
"Well," Harkon said to Clastron, "They don't really look much like Davos here, or myself." The lord of waters wurbled his snake-like watery body a little, for emphasis.
"But," he said as he enveloped one in water for a moment before releasing it, unharmed if wet. "They seem to be mostly water, so they meet with my approval, at least. Though, shouldn't there be more of them? And how will they propagate, with only males? And where shall they live?" Harkon blurbled towards the vast expanse of nothingness. Only the hive, a bit of water, and the coliseum broke the empty space... well, and of course, the trees sticking out every which way.
"If I might?"
Harkon thought watery thoughts, thoughts of oceans and seas and fjords. Water obeyed him and the water around the hive grew until it was a mighty lake, nearly a sea to be sure. Then the lord of waters sent out a summons and the seamats left Culthet to drift along these new waters, providing a place for the humans to live. He took a few of the trees that were overcrowding the hive and just drifting about and fixed them to the seamats. Now they'd have shelter and food, as best they could find it in this place.
0pp - warp over seamats.
1pp - mold land lesser - expanding the water around the hive
1/6pp left
"Here goes nothing, Mother. I can't verify my calculations, but I'll do my best. It'll be a one way passage though."
Not waiting for his answer, he leapt to work, conjuring various metals, rocks, and gems as he needed them, placing them in nonsensical formations and arrangements, scratching symbols on some and leaving others clear.
Finally, he stepped back, looking at the simple array on the ground, pointing to the clear spot in the middle. "Stand there and will yourself to pass through and you will find yourself within the hive on the other side, assuming it hasn't been moved. Like I said, it's a one way trip until I cross over and see about coming back and there is no telling what you'll find once you go there."
Grasping a nearby rock, he scribbled a quick message to Itja-Rek and sent the rock off on a current of energy to seek the god out. "Itja-Rek, I have formulated a portal to the other side. Mother is passing through to find her creations."
"I feel that this is a mistake. The Otherness is greedy and will not let go of what it claims. Do not let the Mother pass through, for we shall not see her again, and we will need her strength here before the end."
Itja-Rek nodded and sped off towards the hive, stopping before the Mother and between her and the portal circle.
"Mother, Stop. This is not a good idea. Before we rush into things, we should contemplate the possibility that this is exactly what our foe wishes of us, to throw ourselves headlong into their clutches, or even worse, into the bleak Otherness from which there is no survival. Also, do you truly trust Aaviz's work? Think back to what you know of him and please, reconsider this and at least wait until we have a better idea of the situation."
Turning away from Itja-Rek, he crossed his arms, mumbling. "Reminds me of the time I got blamed for that forest being cursed. I gave that artifact to the elf with clear instructions not to use it and just keep it safe. Is it my fault that, while I was gone, he tried to use it and his trees started weeping blood while his people were murdered by their own nightmares?"
"Uggg... why doesn't anybody hear me???" Schi'vya furiously roared, as the world around her was shrinking. The holes in the sky and on the ground were getting bigger. Alas, a few of the holes reached the ends of the Triskelion, where some of the Stormbirds rested. She saw in the distance that one of the floating rocks of the Waltzing Mountains was getting sucked in by a massive hole.
All of a sudden, there was an almost alien sound, as the ground beneath her gave way, and sucked her right in through the hole. At one moment, it felt like her essence was squeezing her, closer and closer together through time and space, and then...
Nothing
~Warped World~
All was dark. All was empty. All was quiet. She was in the place the Eye does not see. She had fallen through one of the holes into this dark place. All of a sudden, as if someone had turned on a light, the colosseum came into view, and so did another odd structure. The moound towered over the colosseum in sheer height, but it just floated there in the blankness of this Nothingness.
The colsseum have but a scratch on it-- perfectly normal. Perfectly still. There were no breezes. There were no clouds, no ground, no sky... not even water. There was no light. There was not even a star.
She felt the presence of a few gods in this place. "Hmm... one of them feels familiar, but.. the other few are... not so familiar..." She looked around, as she floated closer to the colosseum. "Hello?"
Itja-Rek laid a hand on the other god's shoulder, and a soul flowed into the other god and delivered a message before flowing back out.
"Forgive me for bending the truth, friend. Your crown does indeed work wonders, but I am attempting to prevent The Mother from passing through and I will use whatever means necessary to do so."
Like a vast bird of prey, Concordia surveyed the Hive. Endlessly coiling and uncoiling, the serpentine form of Concordia hovered in the black sky. It opened its vast mouth, revealing row upon row of shining metallic teeth and uttered a single phrase:
"Concordia awaits..."
"I've traveled through the beyond. And this portal most definitely doesn't lead out of this world. Not exactly, anyways. I knew the moment you pulled me into here that this world was a fragment of some sort, not whole, if you understand. I assume it was caused by some particularly nasty apocalypse in the distant past. The world isn't being drawn into the otherness, not by my calculations, though by all rights, it probably should have been long long ago. My hasty calculations, though estimates, since I can't write them out to check them right now, indicate that what we are experiencing is far more akin to some sort of magnetic effect, with opposites attracting. Things are being pulled to the center of what used to be as two sides close with each other. In fact, it might likely end in one massive explosive crash. Could be interesting to see, really, considering I've never stuck around to see the death of a world before. Though, I suppose it would have a nasty effect on the living things that have been made, one really can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs."
"My point is, where ever that portal leads, it is not the otherness and should not be dangerous in and of itself. The danger is likely to be whatever is living there, or anything that else that may have been drawn in."
Umbart looked out over the floating continent and felt alone.
This world is doomed to enter the void. Will any of you help me carry this world thourgh whole? I know that we will need to face the Concordia, but we must work to keep this world together so that it does not become dust in the otherness.
A voice called out across the mostly empty space of the world. "Hello?" it said. Harkon's keen ears heard it and he turned to see who spoke but saw instead a beast of undescribable size and shape. A harsh, ill-formed voice eminated from it, "Concordia awaits."
"H double O," Harkon cursed. That thing could crush what little there was in this place without batting an... eye? Did it even have eyes? He wasn't sure.
It collided.
Culthet
The Mother looked at the... thing critically. This was supposed to reunite her with her Children? Despite its appearance, she was willing to trust the function of the construct... anything to get her to where her precious trilobites were.
The Mother normally listened to the Itja-Rek, trusting her wisdom... but this time... "The Itja-Rek, stop. This thing SEEMS natural, but perhaps you are right. Perhaps my Children are hostage. Perhaps they are being torn apart by the forces of another world... but this is intended to DISSUADE me? You clearly have never had your precious Children in such danger before! I care not if rushing in is reckless, dangerous, foolish, or even suicidal, but I MUST save my Children, and ensure they are alright! As for the Aavizs work, I do not like the Aaviz, but at least HE understands my need to get to my poor lost Children! Now either help me, or get out of my way."
Ignoring her friends advice, the Mother stepped up onto the portal... generator... thing. There was a flash of light, before...
The Warped World
...she emerged in darkness. Nothing but darkness, everywhere she looked. Her poor Children... this was where they had ended up?? They must be frightened to death! But where WERE they... wait... she could feel them again! They were scared, and lost, and panicked, but they were right... beneath her!
Buzzing downwards, the Mother soon saw her precious Hive... oh joy, oh joy, her Children were alright!
"Feel the Wrath of Concordia!"
The vast coils of the undulating beast wrapped themselves around the other creature, but recoiled almost instantly. Pain flared all along her length as acid and poison seared her scales. Great reddish burn marks now marred her previously perfect body, hissing angrily as she fought to pull back, unwinding herself painfully slowly and fighting to get away. Her massive eyes teared upon as she struggled blindly to get away. The end of her tail flicked out as she wove away through the black sky and caught the other beast in the flank, sending him spinning scross the sky.
"Fear Concordia!"
The great serpent-dragon retreated, then spun around full circle, coming into a great loose coil, her entire body tensed, ready to pounce, to sink her fangs into this thing. but she was weary now, her previous attack had not gone so well, and the great weals along her belly were proof of that. Still, she bared her fangs and played the defensive for now.
Schi'vya looked around, and saw a large tentacled thing emitting light. There was a god-like presence riding it, and it was heading for the two structures. All of a sudden, a low growling noize, follwed by a series of bloodthirsty roars resounded from behind. Two creatures of colossal size were fighting each other-- one of them was Concordia, although she had no idea which one bore that name.
She quickly glided over to the colosseum, and (thank the winds) her elementals made it safe and sound. The rest flew through into the emptines and were making their way to the colosseum. She could see that the squid-like thing was stalling in the air-- apparently watching the fight between these two colossal creatures.
She waved her arms furiously towards the squid thing. "Hey! Come down here! I don't think it's safe for you to be up there right now!" Now that I think about it, maybe calling towards it wasn't such a good idea. I might draw attention to those creatures... she thought to herself. Although, what are the chances? They're too occupied right now...
She turned around to address the other elementals, who were about to retreat back into the tunnels of the colosseum. "So, I'm glad that just about everyone is in attendance... except for..." She looked around. "Where's Draekan and Dorith?"
"They're in the other structure. They wanted to survey the new grounds."
"That thing over there?" Schi'vya pointed to the hive. "Oh... for the love of the wind... I told them not to go anywhere without me in their presence!"
"No! Mother!"
Itja-Rek attempted to grab the other god and prevent her from entering the portal, but felt his hand slip across the other's carapace. The god rounded upon Aaviz.
"I will flay the skin from your bones if you have sent her into harm's way, Aaviz. You may have your theories of polar opposites and other places of existence, but what I know is that the world is falling apart all around us and all you want to do is study it."
Turning on his heel, he left, flying with great speed back to the floating continent.
"You." he said, stabbing a finger towards Umbart. "You say you can hold this place together? Then I will help you hold it against the darkness."
~Deep Below, Culthet~
The City reeled from the sudden loss of some of its members, and the entirety of the Bryofite community careened upwards from the depths towards the surface, breaching into the air with a sloughing of water over the terraced City. The Hive was gone, the storm was gone, the rain... gone. An oppressive red sun beat overhead. All of the individualized Bryofita had fled back into the mass of the City proper when suddenly a massive Jolt shook them, and all went white.
~The Warped World~
And then with an ear-shattering boom, the City reemerged in the small amount of water surrounding the Hive, sending water far up the side of the superstructure and momentarily revitalizing the monsoon tunnels.
2 PP: Found Nation: The City. The Bryofites (save those in the Hive), are now all part of the nation of The City.
0 PP: Warp the City to the new plane near the hive
Nodding as it obeyed him, he followed Itja-Rek, scolding him in return. "May you, spirit guy, should listen every once in a while. You weren't there for the whole conversation and you don't know everything I've told her. Or him," he said, pointing at Umbart when they arrived.
"According to my studies, you won't be able to hold this place together. It is going to collide with it's opposite, no matter what you or he, or any of us do. Whatever is left will be through this, in the place where she just went. Along with all of her children, the clouds, and everything else that is missing. Everything is going to end up in that space as this one crashed into the other. Any chance you or he might have to save anything will have to occur there, not here. Here is useless. Here can only effect here. There can effect both itself and those around it. Nothing you do or will do will prevent what is to come."
Shrugging, he looked at his device. "Truly, if you want to help, you'll have to go through and work from there."
A flare of bright light appeared in front of Davos' milky blue eyes. It froze, immaterial light coalescing into a bronze rod an inch thick and six feet long. The tip of the bronze narrowed to an impossibly sharp point, where a single droplet of Nothing, the pure Otherness of the Outside, oozed forth. Indeed, through the core of the rod, a hollow channel filled with the substance existed.
A flaw ran through its creation; Davos built it in fear, not in the confidence of his power. The divinity that formed it moved sluggishly in knowledge of the impending apocalypse. Or what The Worm believed would be the apocalypse. The Scribe of Anomie, as the weapon came to be called, could destroy, could wreak unimaginable havoc on the very stuff of gods, yet it could not build. Whenever it appeared, mortals would flee, weather it aided their cause or not. Such an artifact always heralded terrible times of listless sorrow, the downfall of societies.
The Scribe hanging in the air beside him, Davos kept careful watch over the Halls of Davos, feeling mentally into the Void for any gods that bore no familiarity to him.
PP
4PP-Combat Artifact: Scribe of Anomie
Itja-Rek bristled at Aaviz' words.
"It isn't that I haven't heard you." he snapped at the other. "Its that I don't believe you and your ramblings and calculations. You know what I think? I think you are just as lost and confused as the rest of us. Go if you wish into the beyond, but I will stay and keep this place intact for as long as I can, and if I must die to keep my beloved Culthet here, then so be it."
Harkon barely heard Davos as he watched the two titanic beasts struggle against each other. The coloseum, the Hive, the water, even the caverns beneath were taking a beating in turn. There was life in those places, but delicate life, life that these monsters could snuff out without even noticing. Whatever happened to Culthet, he didn't know, but he suspected he was stuck here. And it would not do to have this place ruined.
"If you will pardon me, Davos, it seems that things have gotten out of mouth." With that the god was gone. His form slithered down towards the beasts.
The leviathan's acidic aura was so thick that it felt like swimming through earth, but the god pressed on. So large was the aura that the seatmats withered and the Hive and coloseum steamed from its touch, yet the sea monster could wait a moment. Like hail, Harkon fell upon Concordia. Though he was less than the size of an ant in comparison, his bite was ferocious. He ripped away a chunk of the things mockery of flesh. He crashed against it with force enough to rip islands from their roots. He slithered and bit and smashed and squeezed until the creature's attention was focused on him. Even as it turned on him, he was swimming away, towards the leviathan, the blood of Concordia dripping from his mouth.
By luck the sea creature hadn't deduced what was going on. Nor did it, untroubled in the sea of its birth, think anything of a bit of water flying at it. Harkon rammed the thing, the concussion from which shook dirt from the walls of Davos's halls below. Divine teeth tore at it, ripping a hole in its armor, but before he could cause any real damage the creature realized what was going on. A tentacle swiped at Harkon, but like the river he slid around it and flew a good distance off into the void, away from the specks of reality in this place.
"Pitiful," Harkon's voice boomed across the warped world. "Surely whatever beings made you two now weep in shame. Come, I shall end you both and take your waters."
The god knew he was bluffing, but he was trusting in water's ability to endure. If only he could draw these things away, then let come what may.
Before she even blinked, the squid-like creature darted off towards the two creatures, and it too joined the fight; however, it was pushed off into the dark depths of the Nothingness.
"I've got to see to Draekan and Dorith, before those creatures come over here and..."
SPLASH!
"What in wind's name was that??" Schi'vya looked out from the top of the colosseum bowl nearest to the hive, when she saw a huge metropolis floating on the water next to the hive. The wave created by its landing was massive, as it drenched the bottom of the hive, and barely grazed the bottom of the colosseum. "I didn't notice the water before... how did this...?"
Before she even thought, she jumped up high into the air and landed on top of one of the spires of the hive. From there, she saw the Casus Belli. Syreene's creation... she thought to herself. She looked up towards the battling creatures. Erm... no. I can't use that. I'll let them deal the battle themselves... as long as they don't destroy this place...
She saw a few elementals down below in the caves, being bombarded by waves of force, or something... "My children!" She darted down towards the hoarde of Trilobites. She held her arms out and prevented the waves from doing any more damage to the elementals... which none was apparent. "YOU SHALL NOT HARM MY CHILDREN!"
[Read Mortal Stories for more...]
"And I was saying to darling Charlene that she just had to get those children of her's under control!"
The two Mish conversing were perched upon their mushroom chairs, sipping tea and gossipping. The mushroom chairs in question, however, were clinging to a mound of earth spiralling through the black cosmos. The Mish, however, appeared to be taking in none of this.
"I know, they are simply out of control, I am telling you," remarked the second Mish, a female.
"They are going to be the death of her one day, mark my words," replied the first Mish, also a female.
"Oh Violet, you are bad!" exclaimed the second Mish.
"Say, what is that?" asked the first Mish, whose name was apparently Violet.
It appeared that Violet had just noticed what their little mound of earth was drifting past. An epic battle seemed to be taking place between two awesome creatures of monumentous size and power not far away. Also, a little drop of water was careening about, causing quite a bit of damage. The beasts appeared to be howling in pain where they were struck by the little guy.
"Oh dear..." was all the Mish could say.
Then, suddenly, something appeared in the distance. As the Mish strained their eyes they caught sight of yet another combatant hurtling across the sky. As the figure rocketed closer, they saw what appeared to be a mushroom ("Why, it's just like ours!") to which a rather plump woman in hopelessly over-extravagant skirts appeared to be clinging. Even from this immense distance, the two Mish could hear her shouting in alarm and indignation. A large gigadobbit was also sitting upon the mushroom, though he appeared to be having a much better time of it. They could see a glinting crown perched atop his horned head.
"Why if that's King Dobbit, then that must be..." began Violet.
"The Queen!" exclaimed her friend, jumping up and spilling quite a lot of tea over herself. As the two scrambled to clean it up, the Queen made quite a bit more progress across the sky and was now almost level with the battle royale.
"Oh look, she's joining the fray!" yelled the second Mish, jumping up again and spilling even more tea down herself, "Yay!"
"Oh, my money's on that little ball of water, he's feisty!" shouted Violet, apparently no longer concerned with the spilled tea, "Go ball of water!"
1 PP Aid God - Harkon Armal - The Queen aids Harkon in combat against the Spawns.
~Culthet~
Itja-Rek bristled at Aaviz' words.
"It isn't that I haven't heard you." he snapped at the other. "Its that I don't believe you and your ramblings and calculations. You know what I think? I think you are just as lost and confused as the rest of us. Go if you wish into the beyond, but I will stay and keep this place intact for as long as I can, and if I must die to keep my beloved Culthet here, then so be it."
"Oh, I have no desire to go through. I'm much more interested in viewing exactly what'll happen here as the two sides grow closer and closer to smashing. THis is very much a once in an eternity opportunity, to be on a fragmented world as it's parts collapse back onto one another. Reminds me of that time I was on a world when it's keystone was destroyed, calling back it's progenitor from his long sleep. Quite a nasty pieces of work he was, though a fine group of young heroes managed to prove to him that they deserved to exist, so he mended the keystone and let them be. Quite exciting though."
Straightening his hat, he pointed far below. "Have you looked around, Itja-Rek? Everything is vanishing. Not just clouds and the Hive. Davos's cavern is gone as well, passed over to the far side. It I ha to guess, that's where our new annoyingly liquid friend has gone as well."
Closing his eyes, he swayed for a moment. "Well, damn. There goes my dragons. Which means, I'd imagine your tomb passed over with them."
Umbart took Itja-Rek by the wrist and pulled himfar from Culthet. From this vantage it was clear that world was truely flawed. It was undefined and had no form. The parts that the divinity had touche stood out clearly from what was a mist of rock and ocean of indeterminent size.
Look on world, it needs structure and compleatness if we are going to preserve it we must define it. If we are going to hold it against crash of worlds we must support with divinity and hope that we are more powerful then what we run into.
I think we can mold the whole of Culthet into a gaint disk. Then I will go below the world and hold it on my shoulders to give it strength. The problem is keeping the ocean on the rock instead of flowing over the side. It would also help if I had place to stand.
Pointing at the floating continent.
That might do as my platform but it will probable be lost in the process. As for Wenent, I do not know how to save your home unless it is put back int sea.
Do we have the power between us?
OOC: I think we need a min of 8 PP, most likely 10 to pull this off. I have 4
So many things appearing at once... More floating rocks... a tombstone? Things were starting to fill the emptiness from out of nowhere. It seemed as though the space itself was silently expanding, but nothing could indicate that. It was just eternal darkness all around.
"Maybe we should go see to that city that just landed in the water..."
"No!" Schi'vya barked at Draekan.
"Hey, look! Floating mushrooms!" Dorith pointed out a couple of mushrooms darting past the top of the colosseum. They were small mushrooms fitted atop rocks. On top of those mushrooms were little plant people, smaller than the elementals themselves. "We should go see what they're up to!"
Dorith ran over to her stormbird, and took off towards the two mushrooms.
The stormbird made a loud, screeching sound just before it reached the two floating mushrooms. Dorith looked over towards the plant people on top, and waved her arm. "Ah-Hoy!"
"My... What?"
Itja-Rek spun about to see that sure enough, Wenet was gone. Spinning back towards the others, he blurted out. "Whatever you want. My home is gone!"
Little noticed by the arguing gods, also gone were the Naga, who dissapeared wholesale to reappear all across the tops of the Caverns of Davos.
Nagas move!
Muttering to himself, he continued, hardly perceptible. "Some people never listen. Like that one time on that world where the world's magic was bound to magical nodes and people started using rituals to chain them. Those chains are dangerous, I said. They are a risk to the world. They let a few people gather too much power, I said. Did anybody listen? No. And of course, as soon as that sorcerer king rose to power by harnessing all the chained nodes, they ran to me begging for help."
Aaviz, you probably right, however, I fear that only the parts touched by divinity have any hope for survival. We must make this our world or all will be lost. You say you want to see a big crash then help me take something big to this new place.
pointing emphatical at Culthet
If we are going to crash then we should make the biggest crash we can.
Umbart is very worked up now, gesticulating wildy and striding between the two gods. Turning to Itja-Rek
Your home has gone to where we know not. It might not even be whole any more. I can not stop you if you go tearing off after it, but we should bring OUR world to your home. You asked the Mother to wait, now I am asking you to do the same.
Directing his words at both of the gods present.
We might be able to bring our divinity to this entire fragment of world if we work together. Both of you Help me.
Umbart looked back at the remains of culthet and felt the was yet other divinity in it. Taking in breath, Umbart pulled at remaining divinity and started to bring it to him. Ordeck was pulled slowly for the oceans and Hulna began to rise form the floating continent.
OOC: If Karak is still here then is slowly being drawn towards Umbart
"Oh, I am going nowhere. I can rebuild my home elsewhere, but I still am unconvinced that the best route is just to give in to this process! Everything must be reversable, and we are GODS, are we not? We can hold this... this... Plane together if we want to. Why are all of you treating this as something that must be survived? If we focus, we can stop this destruction without having to succumb to its goal. We have already lost so much, so much gone and destroyed and we do not yet know anything about whether those things have survived or not."
Wrenching a soul from his body, he threw it at a nearby hole in the fabric of the universe, which were becoming more and more common as time went on. It slipped through...
~WarpedWorld~
Until it found the Monarch, and delivered its message.
"Have you heard my request? I await an answer."
Xeadin, are you referring to Harkon when you say "squid-like creature"? If so, then to note, Harkon isn't squid like. He's elongated, sort of like a snake, though he isn't actually in the shape of a snake. More like a play-doh snake.
If not, never mind.
Itja-Rek stared at the small orb of water, feeling the need of Harkon eminating from it.
"Harkon lives! And he needs our help! Quickly, this may be our opportunity to strike back against Concordia!"
Itja-Rek ripped out another soul and filled it with divine energy, sending it through the void and back to Harkon.
~WW~
Where it burst open, filling the god with newfound energy and a message.
"Harkon, its Itja-Rek. Concordia has some form of device that can send messages back to us here. Find it and let us know how things are progressing. Good luck, my friend."
1 PP: Aid God. Gogo magic Harkon!
0/4 + 1 (Arbitration) remaining
"Oh, NOW is the time you are going to declare your superior thinking? I never said I doubted that he was pulled through, I doubted that he survived. I was wrong about his survival, but it appears that he now desparatly needs our help. So are you going to sit there and act smug, or are you going to be a real God?"
"Help. Are you going to or not?"
~Warped World~
Itja-Rek? Huh, Harkon thought. It made sense that the summoner had a name, but he hadn't thought to ask it before. Maybe the others had names too? He wondered if Aaviz would say he was rude for not asking.
The summoner's power flooded through him, healing his wounds and refreshing his mind. He could feel the way the soul had come, and more over, he could feel the way his water had went. There was the device that Itja had mentioned. The Mouthers were still on the other side, which gave Harkon an idea.
~Culthet~
A mouther slithered out of the draining ocean and flurbled its way towards Itja-Rek. The creature raised itself up on its tail (and body, as they were the same thing) and Harkon's voice came out of it, "You have my thanks, Summoner. This Concordia is fighting against the Leviathan, and together they are threatening to destroy the remnants of Culthet that are in this place. Where are you? Hurry to us, before even these remnants fail."
~Warped World~
The message sent, Harkon focused again on the monsters. They bleed, but the damage did not seem to be serious. They were a decent distance away from reality now, but not yet far enough. Flowing in a spiral, Harkon once again dove towards the beasts, his teeth at the ready.
"And who decided to pick that fight? Very well."
Turning to the other nearby gods, he spoke.
"You've heard our ally. We must help the Leviathan and Harkon fight against the beast that threatens to destroy our world. Send your power to him, so that he might win."
Do you abondon this world so quickly. We can do only one thing or the other.
Pointing directly to Itja-Rek with forceful finger
You are eldest, you must know that world is more important then any one god. The mother is there she will aid in the fight. We are gods we do not die so easily. Are you going to help me hold this world toghther or going to run of like and leave this world to its own devices like Mother.
Turning Aaviz his voice full of concern
When I knew you last, you were the wisest of of all. What happened to you. I need my old friend back.
Clasping Aaviz on his upper arms he began to shout
Come back to me Aaviz! COME BACK!
He then place some divine power in his voice so that all the gods in Culthet could hear.
Why are you silent? Do you feel no passion? Hurry so that all might not be lost.
Our world here or our world there, I do not care as long as there is world. If our world is gone what is the point of fighting? If we take our whole world thier we will be able to fell Concordia, but if we go and fight, even win, what is the point if we lose what we are fighting for?
Karak grinned at Itja, Aavis, and this other one.
"Are we needed? Then what are we waiting for? Let's go!"
He grinned, and gestured at everybody else.
"See you all in The Void!"
He charged straight into the portal.
Mishway
The God of Beauty was left in his crumpled state upon the risen earth of the pillar, his ethereal form crackling and shimmering as random discharges of energy leapt from the body of the felled God. One of the other deities had attempted to wake Absalom, but only for a moment before more pressing concerns began to draw their attention.
The world around the Gods seemed to be crumbling apart, devoured by some strange emptiness that tore at the very fabric of existence. Moments before Absalom crashed to the ground, one such small temporal disturbance had formed at the foot of the assembled Gods, and a small sliver of its energy remained. The energy, strange and alien as it was, somehow still possessed some familiar qualities, and it was drawn into Absalom’s unconscious form.
As before when the violence of the elements had driven the Masked God into stygian darkness and stillness of consciousness, images began to form deep inside the swirling mass of the God. As before the, dream began to take vague yet fantastical shape, however the second the sliver of other energy mixed with Absalom’s form, something happened. Galaxies and universes had begun to coalesce within the vision, however suddenly all those worlds seemed to spiral past and the vision began to take more definitive shape, and that shape was a single oddly colored egg.
The egg hung in nothingness in a small bubble of reality, and then the egg rattled and cracked, splitting open and from within stepped a strange silhouette, a being reminiscent of the anthropoids the other Gods choose to emulate but somehow different. The shadowy being was alone in the darkness for just a moment, then several other similar yet distinctly different silhouettes began to appear, and they set about shaping a spherical world that was covered with mountains, oceans, rivers, deserts, plains, and before long mortal life seemed to sprout forth at the behest of these strange shadows.
For a time, the shadow-creators seemed to work in harmony, and the world they created flourished. However, as more and more of the shadowy-beings came into existence, and more and more mortals were created, a ripple of competition and adversarial relations began to appear. The vision shifted then to show hundreds of years of constant war of both the mortal and divine variety, until the universe the shadowy beings had created seemed forever scarred and broken.
It was then that the very fabric of the creation seemed to falter, and strange monstrosities from some other place began to prey upon the world of the Gods. The deities were too drained and divided from untold thousands of years of combat, and though some attempted to stop the perdition, those first that rose against the alien creatures were devoured as well. In the end, only a small handful of the shadow-creators remained, and the foundation of the existence they had created seemed to be crumbling into nothingness.
At this point, the original silhouette stepped forward, and seemed to motion the others of its kind into some grand plan. Gathering together, they performed a strange ritual that the vision seemed hesitant to show. As the other monstrosities tore at the reality of the last bastion of these Gods, suddenly a terrible storm erupted from within the keep, and obscured the vision in some terrible calamity.
When the roiling incandescence of Absalom’s form cleared again, it revealed two tiny bubbles of reality seeming to drift apart from one another. One was possessed of a giant ocean and a raging storm, the other of flat grassy planes and a constant sun. In neither was any true hint of the world that had proceeded them, however as they drifted farther and farther apart, their edges seemed to blur. Finally, after centuries of separation something seemed to shift and the worlds began to float closer together again.
Any deity that had remained to view the vision that unfolding within Absalom’s cloudy body would have caught the fleeting image of an egg, but before they could see anything more a terrible shriek heralded a hole in reality opening atop the pillar, sucking the God of Beauty in a heartbeat into some terrible beyond…….
It was then that she noticed that the beasts were still fighting each other. So, she took a chance, and flew out to where Absalom appeared from. 'I should keep him out of harm's way.'
She caught Absalom in her arms and stopped herself before getting any closer to the fighting creatures. "Are you alright?"
Around and around, in and out, the elongated form of Harkon flew. A dive, a dip, and a bite, a bruise, and to the other side the god came through. The Leviathan and Concordia turned in time, their ire fully formed. A tentacle, against the god it railed. A Titan's teeth upon him crashed, yet through his form they smash, leaving Harkon hail and unharmed. He swirled as he slithered and into one he sought to slide the two; limb in limb, form in form, a mighty knot to tie. And all the while the god's wile worked to wet the world about and water rose among the fight.
Consider this me upping the ante to keep the battle going until others can properly respond
"And how is it that you know so very, very much about what is happening here? I am beginning to think that perhaps your arrival here was not as much of an accident as it appeared. How better for a monster like Concordia to get a toehold than to send a servant, one who has done little but sow discord in the ranks of the gods."
Itja-Rek reached up and pulled the crown from his head.
"And this too, I imagine. Was it some feeble attempt to sway me to your way of thinking? Was it a ruse to make me trust you? You have done nothing but spread havoc and promote us throwing ourselves into the 'other world' without thought of the consequences."
Itja-Rek threw the crown through into the other universe.
"Let your master, Concordia, know that there is at least one god who refuses to bow before her, who refuses her entreaties, who refuses the 'friendship' of her servants and the 'gifts' they provide."
To the other gods, he said. "Throw yourselves at the feet of this charlatan if you will, go through to his other place, of which all we know is that our friend is in dire need of help and a being of immense power threatens to destroy us."
"Umbart, you at least seem to have something of the right idea. You at least are interested in preserving this place, even if I think your desire to bring it through to the other place is at fault. I shall help you stitch this Culthet together, and I shall stay in it for as long as I draw breath."
My crown goes through.
Scratching his head as he straightened his hat, he shrugged. "Really, if I wanted to control you, I'd have snuck something into that crown that you just threw away. YOu know, the one that helps keep you focused and not talking to yourself? Sometimes, I really wonder if you ever think things through or listen to other people. You are really be quite irrational. A lot like this wizard I met once. He despised magic, despised it with every fiber of his being. Didn't seem to see the contradiction of being the very thing he hated. Planned to destroy all magic, then kill himself. Can't say it worked out for him very well, no, no, no it didn't."
Pointing his finger threateningly at Itja-Rek, his eye-brows furrowed downwards and his tone grew angry. "But no, you lack any wisdom. You get all paranoid and irritated because things aren't going your way, so you throw away your allies and refuse to listen. So I'm going to do the worst thing I possibly can imagine! I'm going to leave you to suffer the consequences of your unthinking actions. SO THERE! You'll get no help from me for anything anymore."
The Third Plane
A great deal of time passed between when the God of Beauty was struck into unconsciousness, and when he finally awoke. When consciousness returned to the God, he first discovered a strange being floating over him. Much like Absalom himself, this being seemed to be composed of some cloudy immaterial substance, though unlike the God of Beauty this one seemed to have some definitive outline, one that resembled the other Gods of Mishway.
As energy and awareness drifted back into Absalom’s own cloudy form, he began to take in the two beings surroundings. He was at fist struck by the change in scenery. All around him, there seemed a great darkness, an oppressive shade that was quite alien to the Deity. After a moment though, the Masked God realized that there was actually light in this place, in fact the entirety of it was bathed in light, however it was just utterly and completely empty.
A vast expanse of emptiness seemed to stretch about the Gods, it was somehow crushing and oppressive to the God of Beauty, and he could not stand this nothingness. But wait, more existed in this place than just the two Gods, as Absalom began to take in the true nature of the surroundings a twinkle far in the distance caught his eye. He saw that in fact, the light of this realm was created by two strange massive floating orbs with hundreds of thin tentacles hanging below. One light was far brighter than the other, and they both seemed to orbit a strange assortment of structures.
Before Absalom could take in any more of his surroundings the stranger standing over him asked if he was alright. The question grabbed Absalom’s attention quite unlike anything else, because there was something strange in the words spoken. They were composed of familiar sounds and familiar meaning, however a strange unknown but indescribably familiar inflection seemed to permeate them. It was as if the very language of the Gods was somehow…… different…. in this place. It was similar to the grassy fields of Absalom’s birth, but distinctly other.
Going to respond, Absalom attempted to say “I am fine, but where are we?” Instead the sound that came out was more along the lines of “IAIAIAMEMMFFREREDFFDEWHEEERWWWOOUEEERER!!!!”
It was an indescribable assault on the ears, bearing little resemblance to the eloquent words of power that the deity was used to speaking. The God’s form darted left and right for a several seconds, as Absalom attempted to ascertain what was causing this bumbling articulation. Gradually though, the God of Beauty realized that something was terribly wrong with the Masquerade.
The artifact, previously sculpted of alabaster to resemble the faces of the other Deities (though crudely) was now a crumbled, warped, and torn mass at the face of the God. The last blow with the interloper had practically destroyed Absalom’s artificial face, and at that moment a terrible dread and shame began to well up within the heart of the God of Beauty. Had he been able to shed a tear, it is very likely he would have at that moment.
Deeply ashamed at the appearance of the Masquerade, and his own feelings, Absalom did not want to be seen like this. So the God of Beauty, without thinking, dashed into the terrible oppressive emptiness, away from this other being and the strange structures of the this strange place, a terrible indescribable cry accompanying the deity.
"I find it doubtful that you did not hear the message from Concordia, she broadcast it across the entirety of the plane, her message of war against us. I have heard from those quite far from Wenet that they heard the message. You would have to have been deaf to ignore it. Also, you admit once more that you had a life before and beyond this place. You provemy arguments, Aaviz. Your crown did not work as you had promised when you first gave it to me, and it was only after I had modified it that it functioned as intended by me. I can only assume that my tinkering disabled and foiled the plans you had."
"And You." he said, rounding on Umbart. "Speak. Is what he says true? Did you too come from wherever he had come from? If so, I trust you even less, for you have tricked me. I can only hope that those who have gone through will find victory and return."
The figure just floated there in the emptiness, as if there was no gravity pulling it down towards the water, which was starting to fill up the emptiness along the bottom (that is, if there was a bottom in a space of nothingness).
'What in the name of wind is wrong with him?' Her thoughts rang through her head as the indefinete scream penetrated further into her form. It felt as if it was going to pull her apart, but then the screaming stopped, and Schi'vya was no longer in a tight huddle.
All of a sudden, without warning, a large crown pegged Schi'vya on her cloudy head. "OWWWW!!" The sparkling crown ricocheted off into a random direction through the Nothingness. "Where did that come from?" She rubbed the back of her head.
The Warped World, the Hive
The Mother sat in the chamber contently, watching her trilobites mill about... her Children... the world outside might be cold and dark, with land masses appearing out of nowhere and strange creatures abounding, but as long as she had her Children, she was content.
"Again," the Mother prompted a small group of trilobites, who replied by letting loose a strange blast of blue light from their antennae. Apparently they had been having problems ever since they came to this plane... with strange creatures native to this eternal nothing, and odd instabilities in the nature of the plane. So the Mother had decided to imbue the trilobites with powers... powers that could shunt a plane walker back to their original plane, powers that dealt extreme damage to those of a foreign nature, powers that could be used to repair or open small tears in the fabric of reality... for now, it was merely for their survival. But one day, she was sure the trilobites would be responsible for keeping the barriers between the planes separate, so that once this... warping of worlds was complete, it would not simply happen again with some THIRD world. Or fourth, or fifth, who knew?
Something was... wrong. The Mother could sense something close. Something... dangerous. Destructive. And a little too close to her Hive for her liking. Leaving her Children for the moment, the Mother buzzed out of the Hive and towards... what looked to be one hell of a battle! Against... two things? Both of which were massive, and fighting off several other things... well, as much as she loathed fighting, having these two things so close to her Hive did not seem like a good idea! And so she rushed into the fray.
2PP - Teach Populace - The Trilobites learn Planar Psionics, a powerful branch of psionics that work off the concept of 'home' and can weave together the fabric of reality... the result is a form of mental discipline that is extremely powerful against otherworldly creatures, and can be used to banish them back to their original plane, not to mention repair rips in the fabric of reality.
1PP - Mother joins in the battle
[0/6]
The Mother, I am glad to see that you've made it to this place. Are you're Children secure? My creations were not unduly harmed by the transfer.
The Warped World
The Mother latched onto the leviathans back, biting into it viciously. She had to help there gods displace them from near her Children!
And then... Davos thought at her. "My Children are find, the Davos, and I am thankful yours are as well," she thought. "But I currently have a mouthful of a gigantic monster holding on for dear life, so if you would excuse me I am a little busy."
I never lied to you. I did not hide that I knew Aaviz. I will say that when I did he was not this. If we can keep the world here we will, I just want to prepare for both outcomes.
Rounding on Aaviz
WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU! I NEED YOUR HELP AND YOU GIVE ME THIS!
Umbart grabbed him and shook him for all he was worth.
I NEED MY FRIEND AND WIZARD!
Turning to Itja-Rek
Do not judge me by him. Put away your fear so that this world might be saved. If we work together then more will be intact when this over.
Umbart shook Aaviz again then slapped him on the head.
WAKE UP!
Itja-Rek laughed.
"Well, I do approve of your methods, Umbart. Go at it!"
The god of Tombs settled back to watch, momentarily distracted from the chaos around him.
~Warped World~
With a flutter of wings and a scrap of carapace The Mother came, for her children she fought. Mandibles to bite, a stinger to pierce, and wrath to use them. Flesh ripped, welts rose, and fires were set in the Leviathan's blood. The beast swatted at her, to drive the giver of pain away. Again she came, again she stung, again she tore, until terror filled the sea monster's eyes.
With a laugh and a bay the Monarch and her King sliced and slid along the sides of the other, frolicking in the floating spays of blood. They flounced and pounced on Concordia's form, raking and taking its life where ever it they found. The beast shuddered and shivered at their cries, its fear falling from its mouth in wails.
Harkon too, tired but true, upon the monsters struck. Deftly he swam, here to there and through and through, tangling the two till hardly they could move. Ichor flowed from his eyes and mouth, mixing with his waters to forming prismatic froth; the god was wounded, worn. Clever too, was he, and as he flew his waters turned and became covered in translucent scales, like stone. As blue diamonds they sparkled in Sol's searing light, armoring the watery one.
Waters rose around the fight, the Culthetian creature was unaware. Waters rose around the fight, the Monster with Mishway's taint cared not at all. Waters rose around the fight, and in them Harkon heralded their doom.
"Leave them, now," he told the other gods. Though they knew not why of his words, they followed through. Water consumed the beasts, tangled as they were, and with a command from the lord these waters slowed, they hardened, and they froze. Ice upon ice formed a prison, trapping the monsters deep inside. Jailed they were as the water rise, ice the tide.
Silence.
~Culthet~
The waters of the world grew still and in the approaching doom seemed to drain away, until all way dry.
Up in the sky the red orb of the sun flared and blinked out, its fires gone.
~Mishway~
The wind that wurbled through the tuggly woods faded and failed, the air grew stale.
As creatures wandered among the trees they found their feed sinking into the vanishing earth.
Whatever was causing the worlds to vanish seemed to have been accelerated.
~Warped World~
Twinkling in the light of the sun a glacier held the Leviathan and Concordia, frozen in their prison home, entwined with each other.
Harkon's strength, fading, yet was not through. Upon his back he took the two, their weight crushing down. He heaved and threw, and through the void they flew, resting finally far away from the hives home.
Though exhausted, a memory of words he had spoken came rising up from Harkon's waters, and understanding too.
Into one, betwine ye the two.
Part not they, or Chaos will rule.
The Way will strive
The Cult will rise
Fail for both! Pray, suffer the fool.
So came to pass the first fulfillment of these words. Others would follow.
The god, weak, returned to the other assembled ones, but found a strange object floating above the hive. It seemed to draw him to it, so he paused and examined it. The power flooding from it imprinted its name upon his mind; Casus Belli... conflict's cause.
Harkon knew what he must do. He rose up, his watery scales twinkling in Mani's light. "I offer amnesty to whoever created those beasts; you will be held blameless for their destruction."
It was odd to say those words, as life seemed to be recovering quickly now that the monsters were gone.
"My wrath will be upon any who punishes them, be they the creator of the Leviathan or of Concordia. To survive in this place we must not fight among each other, or chaos will come to bring low all that we care for. Such is my oath; let the Casus Belli watch over it."
0PP - Shape God: Harkon forms scales of, essentially, solid water, to help protect him.
1PP - Up the ante: Harkon exhausts himself to defeat the Leviathan and Concordia. I talked with Topheh and Ara; they said I needed to beat a combat ranking of 9. Harkon's base power is 4, he got +1 for initiating combat, +1 from the Monarch, +1 from Itja, he upped the ante earlier, received another +1 from the Mother, and upped the ante again to tip the scales. By my calculations, the total combat power is 10, also putting Harkon at -2 PP (since PP can be borrowed from the next week for fights). I'm not changing any Keywords, but I suppose Ara, Toph, or Anubis have the option of doing so (or adding some).
To note, the ice is just fluff; it isn't meant to actually be a lasting prison for Concordia and Leviathan.
Karak tumbled through the space between worlds, rocketing into this other place. He felt out, and felt for his essence, finding it in a huge beast. He rocketed toward it, seeing the Leviathan and some other one fighting. A small ball of water, steeped in godness, also fought. He beelined for that thing.
"So, you're Harkon. Glad to be of service."
He then turned toward the Leviathan, ignoring this other beast.
"You've been a bad beast, haven't you. Back to sleep, you thingy!"
He pulled with his power. In contained part of his essence, he could use that. He pulled at it's brain, shutting down it's brain command by command. It slowed down, groaned, and stopped, as the ice froze over it, covering it in an icy prison, possibly for eternity.
"And stay there!"
He turned to the other one, trapped in the conflict with The Leviathan, a battle forever closed in ice. He spoke, not to anyone in particular, but more to the world at large, asking a question of the unmoving creature.
"So, who are you, and what did you do to make this little one attack you?"
Changing it's keyword to Sleep. Toph and Ara gave me the OK to do this, so take it up with them if you don't like it.
Itja-Rek bent down and picked up the unconcious god, unceremoniously carrying him towards the edge of the continent, intending to throw him down into the portal.
"Good. Now we can finally be rid of-"
With a thud, Aaviz was dropped, completely forgotten as Itja-Rek took in the waters of Culthet, slowly draining as if from a giant bathtub. The God stood speechless, watching as the rocks of Culthet were revealed for the first time ever, watched as the denizens of the oceans were swept through to the beyond, watched as the great purple maw of a Warp was made visible at the lowest point of Culthet and as the last of the water flowed through.
Then, with a sudden flare, the sun burned brighter and then went out, leaving a black orb that let off dim light like an ember or hot coal would, barely lighting the world.
~Above the Caverns of Davos~
With a scream of pure terror, The Reaper appeared over The Caverns of Davos, horribly scarred from the transfer and from an attack of zero-zone beasts during it. Already sickly, now large red gashes ran along her skin from top to bottom, scales burned and melted away and skin oozing from the attacks.
It drove the other Naga into a terror, and they began to search for a place to hide as the Reaper screamed a cry of pain and longing above them. Unable to find anything, they grabbed shovels and began to dig.
~The Hive~
Finally recovered enough to think, The City let out a proclamation, heard by all sentients in the area as a booming voice in their minds.
"WHAT HAS HAPPENED?"
1 PP (from The Reaper): Guide Populace: The Naga begin to dig down towards the caverns of Davos (*tosses ball to Angel*)
0 PP: Warp both the Ghosts and the Lightlure jellies... I advise anyone else who has things living in the oceans of Culthet to do so as well
Culthet
It was agony. The Shallows, deprived of the water it so desperately needed, as now exposed to the naked air. The coral was suffocating, turning white and brittle in the pain of loosing its much needed water... until, mercifully, it was warped through to rejoin the waters.
Warped World
The Mother realized she still had a chunk of the Leviathans flesh in her mouth... well waste not want not.
Swallowing the chunk of flesh, the Mother turned to the Harkon as he spoke. "The Harkon, were you to ask that I take my own life after saving my Children by sealing away those creatures, I would gladly do so. What you ask is simple, and I will respect it... besides, a Mother cannot be blamed for her Childrens actions. All they can do is guide, and care for them..." She sighed. "Though I am afraid with Children such as those... I doubt any Mother could guide them to anything but destruction. Perhaps it is better they remain in time out for eternity, lest they hurt others.."
The Queen atop her mushroom came zooming alongside the other gods, just in time to catch the tail end of the Mother's speech. She seemed not at all put out that she was talking to a gigantic insect and a scale-covered blob of water.
"Oh yes, I quite agree. Besides, I find bloodshed so distasteful, don't you?" remarked the Queen, plucking a bit of gore from her shoulder. She held it out to the Mother, "Would you like it?"
She contemplated the two beasts for a moment, locked in their icy prison and her lip began to curl ever so slightly.
"But whomever had made these two, boy they must have been out of their minds, I mean, how could anyone think a whale and great ruddy snake like that could ever hope to get along?" she asked the group at larger, "That relationship was doomed right from the start, I am telling you."
Then she placed her hands on her hips and regarded the other gods, smiling broadly.
"Then again, you know what they say, opposites attract things that are opposite to themselves, I mean, just look at Dobbles and I," as she said this, she pulled the King closer to herself on the large mushroom, "Oh, I'm so rude, I haven't introduced myself, I'm the Queen and this is the King."
Where am I?
Caltabactos heard the screams and shouts of battle, he heard the buzz of insects, and the indescribable sound of two worlds merging. But he could see nothing. At first it was all black, and then there were flashes of pink. They were painful flashes; sometimes he even thought he heard the scrawking of an ero.
Despite not being able to witness the event, Caltabactos knew what was going on. The gods were fighting... adapting; was there a difference? The pocket of Other had found another: the gap between the two worlds was carelessly being pulled apart and tied together. Mishway was dying. Culthet was dying. But the deaths were not in vain: they had given birth to a new world; one that would be something new, something to look forward to. The best of both worlds.
The god opened his eyes.
~Warped World~
Caltabactos floated above the action, viewing The Monarch who had brought the King Dobbit along with her. She was always an odd one. Her form seemed indistinct due to a watery haze that was surrounding the atmosphere. A Hive - no, The Hive - was precariously situated in the strange world, and new creatures were constantly enterring the strange world. The diversity pleased the energetic god, and he smiled for the first time in a while. But there were all just... there. Floating around without any support or purpose.
A realization hit Caltabactos. This world was newborn, and thus it needed to be shaped. The world was clay, and the gods all sculptors. He reached his hand out, and made material to craft with. In his hand, he held raw earth. As he held it upward, it grew rapidly, eventually expanding to the size of a continent. It was not a smooth job, chunks of earth jutted out at strange angles, and the density was inconsistent, but that was how Caltabactos preferred it. He dropped the land down (how one drops a continent is fairly difficult to describe), and it floated in the center (the center of the action at least; as far as Caltabactos was aware, this world had no boundaries) of the world.
A good base was present, so it was time to start decorating. A seam in space opened behind Caltabactos, and a hazy pink portal was created. Eroes rushed out happily eager to explore this new world. Water streamed out, and gathered in the center of the landmass. Golden trees flew from the portal and implanted themselves in the hard ground, surrounding the water. Dobbits and Sichons fell from the sky, landing painlessly on the ground, looking around confused. With a final touch, Caltabactos lifted up his left hand, and pointed at the landmass with his other. Grass sprouted up, giving the hungry dobbits something to eat.
0PP - Warping in eroes, dobbits, gigadobbits, sichons, The Red Zone, ocean, and Golden Forest.
4PP - Mold Land - Create an uneven continent sized landmass. It can easily be seen floating around in this new world. It has gravity pulling anything up top downward.
2PP - Nourish Land x2 - Grass sparsely appears across the new landmass.
A brief exertion, and the gargantuan worm vanished. In its place, now rising towards the assembled gods, with a small quill pin stuck behind his ear, an elegantly dressed, if pale, man appeared. Preceding him ran an sickly sweet odor, decay, rotting flesh overlaid with sweetest scents of flowers. Wheresoever he stood, the light brightened, but in a heatless fashion. In fact, the mere presence of the Aristocrat, as he called himself, seemed to pull heat from the surrounding space.
The Mother, Harkon I presume, and you, a Queen and King I suppose, though I know not your names. You did well to seal away the Leviathan, it is a fearsome beast. Do you know who created this might machine of war?
-----------------
A sharp sound, metal on stone, echoed throughout the newly named Halls of Davos. At the far end of the sixth Hall, the Naga first slithered down from the surface, wriggling across walls as the red eye of the sun first illuminated the still waters. Black and seemingly fathomless, opaque to all light. A smell of sea salt, familiar to the Naga, wafted up from the ocean below. Rowing across the inland sea a galley, all spongy wood overlaid with plates of steel, plowed through the water. Standing at her prow, a Death Titan garbed blued steel traced with gold stood. These traceries picked out words in the elegant, looping script of that people. A shimmering, shuddering fragment of a dead tile from the Sybline Dream gleamed in the crest of the Titans expertly worked helm.
Looking upwards at the sound, he watched in amazement as the beam of light, the first sunlight ever seen, broke through.
((And Mortal stories from here I think.))
PP
1PP-Specialize Populous: Death Titans and armored ships
Umbart looked on what was left of the world out cried out into the void. Diving into what once was a great stretch of ocean, he gained speed as he fell. Down he plummeted with a great roar.
I WILL HOLD IT!
CRASH
Umbart collided with the bottom of what would have been an ocean. Rock was thrown far and wide; through the unyielding earth Umbart plunged. He entered a great void and lost control, for he did not expect to find a void so near the heart of the world. Umbart tumbled through the void where the Caverns of Davos used to exist. Sliding to a halt many miles under the rock, he slowly staggered to his feet.
It must be here, I will find it.
With an intensity born of desperation and rage, Umbart dug frantically at the center of the world.
After what seamed to be an eternity, he found what he what had been searching for. Umbart knelt at the very core of Culthet and picked up a tiny, glimmering fragment. He held in his hand the very heart of Culthet. With a snarl of triumph, Umbart held the small but potent heart aloft.
Then he did some something odd. With a fountain of divine blood, Umbart savagely ripped his own heart from his breast. Collapsing in agony and nearly failing in his quest he grunted
Not yet.
With weak and trembling hands Umbart placed the Heart of Culthet in the gaping wound in his chest.
I am Culthet
Blood trickling from his mouth and pouring from his chest, Umbart could no longer hold death away. A grin adorned Umbart's face, for he knew he would not be dead long because eoon he would be reborn. Then all was still at the very heart of the world.
3/7 PP
-1 PP spent towards the chains of Culthet. The rest will come before the end of the week.
A couple more gods came into the Nothingness, and right before her very eyes, something strange had happened. Land. Grass. Trees. The main ingredient that this world was missing was now replaced. By... 'Caltabactos?'
The small deity stood in the center of it all. The Eroes and Dobbits sprang and frolicked about in the new landscape. It looked like a miniature Mishway, but it lacked the sun. Suddenly, and without warning, a bright orb appeared in the sky. A star-- way up in the blackness-- shone itself brightly and illuminated the landscapes below. The lake reflected the star's rays up to the walls of the colosseum, the hive, and the city.
She saw a woman in a multitude of dresses, with a large dobbit sitting below her, wearing a crown. 'Was that the same crown that hit me? If so, then that fuzzy thing has a date with the stormy winds.'
She moved closer to the two figures sitting on top of the mushroom, gliding in the air. "Excuse me, Ma'am. I wish to talk with your... dobbit-thing... please..." An air of uncertainty hung around her, as she saw that the woman was wearing a crown herself. Before she even noticed, a crown came hurtling back towards Schi'vya, and it was then that she noticed it coming from behind. She caught it just before it hit her, but the initial speed of the crown pushed her so hard that she rammed right into the mushroom where the Monarch Queen sat upon. "OOFFF!!"
Cuthlet
The Mother was unsure whether to take being offered gore like that as an insult or a gift... but she decided to give the odd Mother the benefit of the doubt, licking off the gore gratefully.
Before she could do much in the way of respond however, it seemed there were so many more Mothers there! Mothers of every shape and size, and even some that changed it... why the Davos shifted forms like that she did not know. She liked her old one better.
"My, we certainly seem to have a lot of Mothers here!" she had to noted, not sure which to respond to first. "In any case, to those who do not know, I am the Mother... greetings The Queen, The King, and all those who I do not know the titles of... it is joyous to see more Mothers, though somewhat overwhelming in the midst of all this chaos!"
The End was beginning.
Great cracks ran up and down the bowl of Culthet, stretching out like overzealous boy scouts on a trailblazing merit-badge quest in every direction, searching out one another and growing larger by the minute. The few remaining life forms on Culthet cowered on the few patches of semi-solid land, the great Archipelago of Ordek and the floating haven of Ordarak-Rek that, at least for the moment, stood firm against the chaos. Here and there, a few of the now pillars of solid rock succumbed and tilted, crashing downwards and breaking apart on the once-ocean floor.
Watching all of this, as well as the apparent suicide of Umbart, Itja-Rek barely had time to react as with a great crunching noise the edge he had been standing on crumbled away. Cursing, the god jumped back. Aaviz, being unconscious, was far less lucky, and began to fall the long distance down towards the fragmenting land below.
0 PP: It has begun. The superstructure of Culthet is cracking at the seams. Time to abandon ship!
He pointed toward the Leviathan.
"That one I can account for. The other one, I think probably came over from wherever these other gods came from."
He turned and pointed in turn at the 2 strange, non-Culthet gods he saw.
"What do you know about this creature?"
Thump Thump
The the heart of Culthet began to beat and whole of Culthet pulse with it. The essence of Culthet began to flow in the corpse of Umbart. As Umbart's Divine blood soaked the stone his essence flowed into Culthet.
Faster and faster, the vitality of god and of a world flow back and forth and merged. Umbart's blood flowed through all of Culthet before returning to him. Then the life of culthet became the life of Umbart.
Screaming so load that all living things in Culthet heard, breath once more entered Umbart. Spasms wracked his form and he was thrown violently around the core of the world. Whenever he touched a hard surface strand of gore remained fast to wall and to Umbart.
The spasms were slowed as Umbart crashed into the walls at the core of the world as Umbart's Ichor slow weaved a web. The web of blood dried and held Umbart suspended in middle of a small chamber. Umbart whimpered softly grimaced softly as, finally, things ceased to move.
The work is not done, but I must rest before I continue.
Umbart's eye's lolled back into his head an with those words Umbart join Aaviz in unconsciousness, maybe the would share a dream.
2/7 PP
- 1 PP Spent on a world artifact yet incomplete, more coming soon.
~Warped World~
Bubbles formed deep within Harkon, within the prismatic mixture of water and ichor. They rose to the surface, trapped under the water-scales, and slide along until they came to his mouth. There they burst to the surface in laughter. "Davos, or whatever you wish to be called, water remembers. Yes, I know who created the leviathan. But ask no more, for I will tell no more."
Another voice clammered for information, so Harkon turned to an ill-defined cloud of taint. "You... were there with Ordek, weren't you? Karak, right? Yes, Concordia tastes of a different plane, like much here... though slightly off, almost like an echo of a taste... Regardless, it was not of Culthet born."
"But this is not a healthy line of enquiry. The creatures have been sealed," his body motioned towards a direction that might be called north, far across the newly formed continent, farther still, towards the glacial prison. "Let none ever free them. And too, let those who created them be free of the taint of ownership."
The insectoidish had spoken and introduced herself, "Ah, Mother! Thank you for your name, and my apologies that I had not asked it before. Thank you too, for your aid, and you, Queen and King. I had not thought to survive that fight, I owe you three much for your-."
A featureless essence caught a crown floating through the void and rammed into the Queen's chariot-like mushroom. It looked familiar. "May I see that?" Without waiting for the answer, Harkon washed over this being and his eyes swam about his form, examining the crown from many angles. His waters retreated, leaving behind a thin ichorish slime upon the being.
"I apologize for my eagerness, but I know that crown. It is Itja-Rek's." Raising himself high, like a snake standing on its tail, Harkon looked over the gods far and wide. "Where is he?"
Itja was somewhere, he wasn't sure where. The god found that path that messages and power had traveled through earlier, and now he sent another message through.
~Culthet~
Mouthers and parasites began to fall into nothingness, fading err their doom and going across a wrinkle in reality, to another plane. But one remained, loyal to its creator, and it went to Itja-Rek, though every fiber in its being was terrified. It opened its mouth and out came Harkon's voice. "Summoner, Itja, where are you? Are you well? Concordia has been sealed, the leviathan is asleep. Come now, let us talk before the assembly of mighty ones."
0 PP - Parasites and all but one mouther shift over to the Warped World
Mishway
Chaos was ensuing as the skies around the Waltzing Mountains seemed to tear and suck at the very fabric of reality itself. For weeks now the Gorand had been desperately attempting to fight off strange interlopers to the Mountains, beasts of segment and mouth that had seemed to come from nowhere and devour everything in their path. They were not of this place, so the mystical ape’s ingrained desire for balance had caused a great furor as they sought to banish the abominations.
However they were hard pressed, for there always seemed to be more of the creatures and they could never determine their source. Now though, they had much bigger problems. Gaping tears of utter stygian darkness opened in the air of Mishway about the Mountains, and the air all around shrieked as it was sucked into the abyss. Already great swarms of Manta Beasts had been caught unawares and helpless, dragged into that fateful and unnatural storm whilst they coasted through the air. The vast reservoirs of the Sky Rivers as well were being drawn through, the divine energy that orchestrated their ascents and descents not enough to secure them from this apocalypse.
Finally, as the world around them seemed to drain away, even the floating gems of the Waltzing Mountains themselves were drawn into this terrible beyond…..
Warped World
In the skies above the assembled Gods a new light bathed over the continent. As compared the harsh brightness of the Giant Jelly, this light was far more mellow and comforting. Composed of violets, greens, oranges, and reds, the light bathed the barren expanse of land and cast ominous yet alluring shadows upon the rock, as if half glimpses of other things.
The light was coming from a series of floating mountains high above. They seemed to be covered in some kind of incandescent foliage of unimaginable variety, possessing such shapes and sizes and colors so as to defy belief. The floating colossi seemed to be slowly drifting and rotating about each other, as if in some divine dance, and a vast series of waterways seemed to snake about them.
0PP Move the Waltzing Mountains, the Sky Rivers, and all the life forms living upon the Mountains from Mishway to the Warped World. For a description of the Mountains and its predators see post #275, #296, #360, and #394.
"You have done something that is worthy of our status, even when others would not. It is because of you that those beasts have been stopped. Let this speed your recovery, for it seems we all have a lot to do."
With that he turned to the his attention down towards the planet.
All was not right; all was backwards in this strange vision that appeared in her head. It seemed very unclear what this world was. For a moment's pass, it seemed like nothing made sense. Not one thing in this vision called a dream makes sense.
A lone humanoid figure stood in the middle of a forest surrounded by several unusually shaped metal objects, larger than the humanoid itself. They made a strange, droning sound, and it seemed like they were flying-- no, hovering in midair. Whatever they were, they had no divine presence-- only the smell of some vile gaseous substance, and the strong gusts of wind created by these things. It was not how it was supposed to be...
~Warped World~
Schi'vya woke up underneath the squishy mushroom where the Monarch sat on. She shook her head, and pulled herself out from underneath, carrying the crown with her. A god-like presence appeared before her-- a strange presence both vaguely familiar, but very much unfamiliar. He offered to see the crown, and she obliged. The being said something about it.
"Itja-Rek?" She tilted her head to one side.
After seeing Syreene, or Sonnet as the voice said, safely to the Triskelion, Poliphas reached out to say farewell. His gesture halted as portions of the images the God of Seasons was contemplating leapt unbidden through the brief contact. As not to interrupt any further, Poliphas travelled rapidly to the Pillar of creation.
While the images he had received from Syreene|Sonnet were disjointed, the images showed the destruction of Mishway. And the evidence of this destruction was all around. Halting the leakage into the universe was nigh impossible, so Poliphas started to plan for a careful evacuation. He first contacted Ruudite and delivered the news.
"Ruudite, this world is falling apart. Has there been any change from the one I asked you to guard?"
"Yes, Commisioner. He's stopped laughing. But he's not doing anything, not even breathing. I think he laughed himself to death."
"Let me take a look."
Poliphas concentrated on focusing his perception through Ruudite's eyes. He discerned that the laughing god still had a divine spark within him, although it was much dimmer than before.
"He's not dead, Ruudite, merely inactive. Ready yourself. This world is falling apart. I'll lend you enough strength to get you and him safely through this time of troubles."
Poliphas severed his connection with Ruudite. Ruudite would be able to get himself and the inactive god through alright. But Poliphas had other things to worry about now. First, he would have to get his Pillar through safely and then bring over the Eidolons he had created. Poliphas looked overhead and saw a large whirling mass consuming the sky above the Pillar. Poliphas extended his power into the Pillar and pulled it towards the the center of the whirlpool. The Pillar trembled as it entered the warp...
~World Warp~
...and exited into the Grey Unknown. Poliphas looked around. He could sense a couple of familiar auras. He turned to one, and saw a rocky circle inhabited by faint cloud-like people. Facing another direction, Poliphas recognized the forest that had been approaching the Pillar just before the world started to collapse. He peered at the Golden Forest, seeing a massive amount of effort had been put into gathering up enough land to support the Forest. Poliphas then looked at the base of the Pillar of Creation and started pulling in land to attach to the Pillar.
More and more earth started attaching itself to the Pillar, growing in a circular manner. Poliphas then molded this earth in a couple of patterns. First, he caused a channel to flow towards the Pillar, then split into two and rejoin after passing the Pillar. These channels would fill up with water should they ever connect to a river or something. Poliphas then lowered one side of the mote of earth surrounding the Pillar. He attempted to fill it with water from one of the oceans, but the water kept running off.
Poliphas sighed. He had enough room to bring the Eidolons over, but the land was still barren. But the Eidolons were strong, they could survive a little while until his strength returned. Poliphas closed his eyes once more and brought the Eidolons through to the new land surrounding the Pillar. A handful of Eidolons appeared on some of the other landforms. Poliphas tried to guide them over to the Pillar's land, but lacked the strength to do so.
With the Eidolons in place, Poliphas was exhausted. Fortunately, most of the table settings were still in place. He sat at one of the chairs and started eating. After a few bites, his strength had recovered enough to broadcast a message of greetings to any gods nearby. He hoped some would come now that the world wasn't falling apart here.
- 4PP Mold Land: Poliphas creates another large section of land around the Pillar. While similar in size to Caltabactos' continent, the two aren't yet connected.
- 0PP Warp: Poliphas brings over the Eidolons onto the barren expanse surrounding the Pillar.
The world continued to crumble. Although the strands of Ichor from Umbart were holding together what they touched, in between those strands, the cracks were joining, large chunks of rock breaking off and falling into the nothingness. Light finally returned to Culthet as a dull red glow suffused the air
"It's good to know you won't cancel dinner plans over something as trivial as the end of the world."
"Well, I had hoped to discuss what we could do about the world ending when I first sent out the invitation, but the apocolypse came faster than expected. Fortunately, I tend to be an optimist. This isn't the end. It's a new beginning. And now we can talk about planning a whole new world!"
Poliphas looked around at the grey expanse. He eyed the Golden Forest landmass.
"I have to admit. I'm a little jealous. I haven't gotten any greenery on my landmass."
Umbart slept a dreamless sleep and as he did so his resolve flowed out of him into the ichor the surrounded and supported him. As his resolve left his body, the strands of blood hardened until they were metal. The chains tightened the grasp up Umbart and flowed back into him enter his heart, the heart of Culthet. As Chains of Culthet became one with Umbart the ceased to support him.
Umbart fell and landed with thud in small remnant of Culthet. Umbart Awoke with a start and looked at his new form.
I have done it.
Umbart stood and the chains came to life to life at his whim. He forced the chains out into the rock of Culthet binding together all that the entered. Unfortunately most of Culthet was gone and chains lashed the void in vain.
I am to late, the world is already gone.
Umbart sobbed briefly for he was still in agony. Quickly Umbart regained his composure and sent the chains out once more. He would save what he could. In there search they found some sparks of divinity still remaining in Culthet. First the found the unconscious form of Aaviz and shepherded him to the core of the world.
Aaviz, I am sorry my old friend. Wake up the end is nearly here.
While Umbart held Aaviz the questing chains found other gods. In much the same way as Aaviz was brought to the center so were Hulna (wizdude) and Ordeck (Chappy). Umbart would not let their sparks go to waste.
Umbart then tried to direct the chains to take hold of the few remaining fragments of land remaining in Culthet, but he was to weak. This had almost no effect on the the floating continent but it knocked the smaller floating island through the void.
The Warped World
Large rocks entered the world at tremendous speed an threatened to collide with the disjointed chaotic creations of the gods already here. The biggest, nearly 3 miles around, was headed directly at the hive.
0/7 PP remaining
-2 PP Complete world artifact
The Chains of Culthet
A large ball of rock held together with many might chains. The chains expend and enter and land or water the comes in contact with them
Effect: Grants 1PP to and Mold 2 or 4 action that creates, effects or brings into contact lands or waters in contact with the chains. The chains must run through these non constructs.
Loophole. Clever gods can find ways prevent the chains from entering creations even though they are in contact with lands that contain the chains. Molds that separate from anything touching the chains are also not effected.
Awakening quite angry and with a very sore, the first thing Aaviz noticed was the suddenly rapidly approaching energies of the other side. Not even noticing who was holding him, he cried out, "Unhand me you fiend. Unhand me at once and have respect a wizard or you'll rue this day!" Within seconds of the grip not releasing, lightning flared forth from his waving arms, ripping chunks of dirt and stone from the nearby ground as he lashed out in an attempt to free himself. A mere moment before his captor passed through to the other world, he managed to slip free, remaining in Culthet.
Shaking his head and cursing, he spotted his hat nearby and stepped over to pick it up. Dusting the worn bowler off, he placed it securely on his head and looked around. He was alone now. No one else to talk to, no one else to share his findings with. Nothing left but a few scattered creations just waiting for the end of this fragment of an ancient and near dead world. As it sank in, he frowned slightly, then started making his way to the last remaining solid piece of land, gathering the scattered remnants of the vineaza and skimmers as he went.
Hulna felt the cold embrace of the iron chains, trying to pull him into the unknown. He resisted for a breif moment, wrapped the mindflayers in a field of telekinetic force, and flew into who knows where with his creations in tow and Ur following close behind.
Warped World
After a trip that felt like it lasted familiar, Hulna was relieved to see a familiar landmark. He felt himself being pulled towards the Hive, so he dropped off the mindflayers there and freed himself from the chains. Then, turning to the nearby gods, he said, "Greetings to all of you. Some of you I know; Harkon, Davos, Karak, Itja-Rek, the Mother, wonderful to see you all again. And you," he said turning to the Monarch, Schi'vya and the Dobbit King, "I am Hulna, and this is my daughter Ur."
PP
-0 PP Warp the mindflayers into the Hive. Hulna and Ur also cross over.
She felt the presence of yet another unfamiliar being. It came in the form of a large, black brain-like being, with a divine sentience hovering around it like an invisible aura. It introduced itself as Hulna, and it also introduced its daughter as Ur.
Schi'vya glided over towards the being with a welcoming smile. "Hello, Hunla. I am Schi'vya, lord of the Four Winds. I see you brought company along with you." She saw the mindflayers close behing Hulna. "It is a pleasure to meet you two." She held out her hand to them.
Throws-Rocks-Far was resting in a small cavern of the Hive, when the last dregs of Mishway chose that moment to cross over. The trilobite flew into a defensive posture as small animals apparated in the very air above him, landed none to softly, and bounced away. They were...cousins? Maybe?
For their part, the varying Mantids in the cavern gravitated to the lone Trilobite. Gracefully, they set down the various loads of flower petals they had been carrying, and backed away, searching this new place for more. Despite the dearth of familiar vegetation, the Mantids rapidly insinuated themselves into the Hive's ecology.
~Mishway~
Sonnet opened his eyes, standing abruptly up from his meditations and internal dialog. He stamped his foot on the ground once, a reverberating thunderclap that caused the Lyn, in each of their castles, to stop their magicks and clutch their heads. "Undo now your spells of binding and delay. This place is done. We are moving on" boomed Sonnet's voice, loud in their minds.
Alone on the highest peak of the Triskelion, Sonnet turned to face the encroaching dimensional barrier. He began to laugh, a harsh, triumphant sound that only faded as the untenable violet energies of planar decay washed over him, finally scouring Mishway clean of, well... anything.
~Warped World, The Abyss~
The Triskelion emerged nearly unscathed from the transfer -- everything on it was yet extant, but the vegetation was showing troubling tendencies; while some trees were red-orange with the colors of Autumn, there were some who had lost all their leaves, as if they were yet in Winter's grip, and yet another set had neither leaves nor bare branches, but budding growth.
Sonnet's form contorted, momentarily melding into that of Syreene's, then that of their hybrid, and then back to Sonnet again. "No!" he growled, apparently to himself. "It. Is. Autumn." Some Eroes and Stormbirds took flight at the force of his proclamation, but the rebelling trees were unmoved.
Soon, his Lyn had approached. Sonnet greeted them fondly. "My Lyn, I'm glad to see you yet live." Sonnet swept his arms about, indicating the borders of the mountain, which rapidly dropped off into, well... an absence of anything really. "It seems we are the first to transition fully to the otherside." Lynne Wind cleared her throat. "Um. Lord Sonnet." she began.
The god laughed, clapped one dextrous hand on her shoulder and grinned broadly. "I know, beloved Lynne. I know. Your children need space to expand to."
"No, milord, it's--"
"Fear not!" Sonnet closed his eyes and Worked. The Triskelion bulged outwards at its edges, and then expanded, keeping the shape of the mountain, but vastly expanding the land area around it. And still Sonnet Worked, until the land had expanded again, and yet again. The Lyn braced against each other as they felt Sonnet draw on their power. And still the land grew.
After a long while, Sonnet finally paused, sweat obviously perspiring from his face, a look of near exultation obviously imminent. "There. Now there is space for the others, when they arrive."
The Lyn nervously tittered to each other, causing Sonnet to glare at them. "What." he snapped.
The Lynne of Autumn Leaves cleared her throat, and said nothing, merely pointing up, with a single finger. Sonnet followed her direction to see the Waltzing Mountains floating far above them, and yet higher still, a massive sheaf of land, the Stormbridge Colosseum, and a needle-thin (at this distance, at elast) superstructure that descended straight down, bristling with iron and stone struts. Shading his eyes (where was this blasted light coming from!) Sonnet thought he could make out the Cassus Belli at the bottom-most tip of the structure.
"Wait a minute..." he began.
-4 PP Mold Land: Sonnet expands the land around the Triskelion, creating a large, contintent-sized mass. This floats far above the other land masses, and is oriented in the opposite direction. Between the two shall be known as the Abyss, where the Waltzing Mountains are currently floating.
-2 PP (from Lords and Lyn) Mold Land: The "underside" of the Triskelion and the edges of the continent it is now located on are suffused with oceans, streams and rivers. This massive orb of water remains stuck to the bottom edge of the Triskelion, and provides a self-sufficient water-cycle to the mountain-continent. It would be theoretically possible to hike from the Triskelion to the edge of the continent, board a boat, sail for a few days, and wind up on the opposite end of the continent.
Warped World
My, more and more gods were joining the proceedings it seemed! Including even...
"The Itja-Rek!" the Mother proclaimed happily, scuttling over to where he fell... even with all these land masses, it seemed as though this world was still... incomplete. Aside from the clouds of Culthet, the sky was still black, and there were still gaps between some places. She hoped that once whatever this warping of worlds was was finished that all of this would go away... it was not a very homely place to raise her Children.
"The Itja-Rek, it is good to see you," the Mother continued. There parting had been... tense. They not wishing to let anyone go into this world, she intent on protecting her Children even if it meant she might be torn apart. She still thought she had been in the right, but she could have been more gracious about it... "I was afraid I would not get to see you again, with how much you seemed to hate the idea of anyone passing over!"
"Mother?" Itja-Rek said, turning towards the scuttling figure who, although his eyes still didn't seem to be working properly, certainly seemed like his friend.
"I am glad you are well. Culthet is gone, and there was nothing left to stay for. I think there might be a few remaining holdouts, but..." Itja-Rek shook his head to try and clear it.
"Forgive me, friend... my head is not yet working properly... I think I hit it pretty hard when I landed. Tell me... where are we?"
Umbart new that there was very little to stay for. Umbart had tried hard to save this world and he had failed. Directing his words as Aaviz.
Glad to see you awake. Very little is left of this world, yet these chains may do some good yet. I am going to take them over to over side very soon. Will you watch after this fellow?
Umbart gestured towards the sleeping Ordeck. The chains made one more attempt to find more of Culthet to hold but found very little.
The warped world
The floating islands flew onward. Some were going to head forever away from rest of these structures but a few flew inward. Both continents had at least one medium size chunk of Culthet head their way. The biggest threat was from the rock nearly 3 miles around hurtling towards the hive. As is got closer it began to glow and become visible to those that live there. It would not be long now.
Recieving no responce from Aaviz Umbart grew angry and left him behind. Umbart willed himself and Chains of Culthet to new world.
I, Umbart, have arrived and bring with me the heart of Culthet. What these chains hold they will not let go. They will be strong foundation for a new world.
OCC please feel free to use artifact
Warped World
Absalom fled further and further into the suffocating emptiness of this strange new place, inhuman distorted cries reverberating all around as he left the company of the other Gods and their creations far far behind. For what seemed like an eternity Absalom fled from what or why he did not know, but some deep force, some compelling urge deep inside drove him irresistibly onwards, until the lands of existence were but a speck even to the divine eye.
The God of Beauty wanted to disappear, he wanted to bury himself in the earth far from the eyes of any other deities and wither into nothingness, he did not want to be seen by anyone or anything , immortal or otherwise, so great was his shame. And so the Absalom screeched through the nothingness, however with every inch that passed that same empty expanse which shrouded the God from others seemed to press tighter and tighter against his form. It was as if he was suffocating, as if he had truly been buried alive and was now struggling to move every fold of his body. There was something anathema to Absalom’s very nature about all this emptiness, this formless lack of, well, anything, and it sought to drive him back from whence it came.
These two forces, one internal and another external, vied with each other for prominence in the God’ psyche, each trying to overpower the other. Finally, in a stretch of space no different from any other, these two drives seemed to reach some kind of balance. Slowly at first but then more rapidly, Absalom began to decelerate and even come to a complete stop. He hesitated, and looked out at that vast unfathomable void and could not budge another inch.
Backing up, the floating cloud turned and began to drift back from whence it came, but then the deep well of shame that had driven him to this point seemed to ominously rear up and arrest all progress towards the world before it had even began. For several moments, Absalom darted back and forth as so, attempting to escape from these two terrible drives.
When it became apparent that he could not, the edges of Absalom’s form began to blur, expand, and contract rapidly, giving off the impression of panicking lungs sucking in air. What was he to do? He could not go back, not like this, but he could not proceed forward either. For some time, like a caged animal, the God of Beauty darted back and forth listlessly without cause, just attempting to escape from the horrible shame and the crushing emptiness, but his every turn was frustrated as the forces just reared up higher.
Finally, with no where left to go, Absalom came to rest, and tried to calm himself. He could not seem to bring himself to go further in any direction; his nature would not allow it. He was paralyzed with dread, in this spot he would remain until something shifted, something changed. But there was nothing for a billion miles, nothing to change, nothing to shift the balance in that terrible equation. The only thing that existed so far out in this expanse, the only thing that mattered, was Absalom himself.
But, could a God change? Absalom was the primordial representation of an ideal, or at least, that was part of what he was. He was a divinity, a force of nature unstoppable and unchallenged. But wait, no, that was not right either. Grrrrrr, what was he!? Why was he here!? Why was he driven to flee from problems so often!? What purpose was there to the world!? All these questions and rushed about his head, seeking clarity and definition.
But how could he answer any of them!? The very nature of these words felt different in this place, altered. They were akin to what he had spoken in the world before the battle with the intruder, but they were also fundamentally changed.
“That’s enough!!!” thought Absalom. He could not escape these questions in his head any more than he could escape his shame or the crushing emptiness. And further, as the questions welled up in his mind Absalom found that he forgot about the other drives, if only momentarily. So it was decided that he would seek answers, and that he would stay in this place until such a time as he could find a satisfactory resolution to these existential troubles!
So reaching forth with divine power, Absalom summoned forth a large, bound tomb with a deep brown leather cover inscribed with twirling micro-thin gold lines, that upon close inspection would reveal themselves to actually be some holy script. And so Absalom began thinking and he began writing, both processes which would take a great deal of time….
4pp Create Arbitration Artifact: The Codex- The Codex is a large bound tomb that is part dictionary, part philosophical discourse, part great meta-narrative, part religious text, and part cook book (it has a delicious recipe for tiramisu!) all rolled into one. The Codex is never a finished work, and both mortal and God are likely to find new chapters every time they open the text.
Rubbing the back of his head, shivering at the sudden pain, he struggled to open a carefully controlled rift, placing Ordrek in a safe place where he would find him shortly. Moving on, he resumed his journey.
Arriving at his destination, he took off his hat, holding it close as he looked at the growing void below. "Quite the sight, quite the sight indeed. Everyone is gone now. Only myself and a dying world. Should be quite the experience. Though, I do suppose now is a good time to get that other project out of the way, since no one will know about it." Focusing power into his hat, he imbued it with powerful energies, insuring that he would remain undetectable to those and their objects who might wish to spy on him.
With that final task done, he turned on the continent he had created, and at all the life and creatures that he had rescued from the remains of Culthet. So much left that no one had cared to take. Random things, fish in ponds and rivers and plants, skimmers and vineaza, little things that most people wouldn't even notice. "Some people just don't pay attention to the little things anymore, a real shame that is, a real shame. Reminds me of a time when an angry over god decided to punish his children by destroying their creation. It was quite the fun adventure, with gods fighting their father and each other, struggling for survival and domination all at the same time. Foolishly expending their strength to fight each other when they should be fighting for survival. It always amused me that the battle was won, not by those squabbling gods, but by a little mortal that neither god nor over-deity had p[aid any attention to. It's always the small things that matter in the end. Can't let these guys stay here though, much much too dangerous.
With one final expenditure of power, he bent his will to the task and send his continent through the rifts, carrying with it the final vestiges of life on Culthet that he had been able to locate. His tasks done, he turned to watch the end of a world.
Edit: Also sent the last of my stuff through, and anything living things that people might have forgotten.
With the departure of Umbart, the remainder of the plane collapsed in upon itself. Screaming in terror, the few living beings left on the islands of the archipelago, looked over by Aaviz as he swept them all up, attempted to grab ahold of anything solid as the mighty pillars of rock cracked and fell towards the bedrock of the dying plane. One by one, they winked out, reappearing scattered throughout the new universe. Still, a few reached the 'ground', shattering the weakened stone, dumping yet more creatures who were struggling to survive on the waterless floor into the warp as well as sending shards of sharp rocks flying into the air, including one large boulder that caught Aaviz unawares as he struggled to raise one more sea serpent safely through a stable portal. The god flew through a nearby portal as Ordek drifted aimlessly towards another, passing through with little fuss. The sky turned a dark crimson color and a humming noise began. The hum grew in strength as the sky grew brighter and brighter, red light seeping through from beyond, painting the remaining disjointed stones in lurid light. The noise grew, sounding more and more like an onrushing freight train. Below, the last Rock Man left alive in Culthet screamed as the pressure grew to an unbearable level and everything went black.
~WW~
With an ear-shattering boom, the remains of Mishway and Culthet burst through the planar boundaries, smashing into one another and leaving nothing but dust behind. As the noise echoed throughout the heavens, the gods, thrown into a common universe, turned to watch as the dust spread, glinting in the light of the Sun and Moon.
The Warp has Completed. You have two weeks to move your creations throughout creation as you wish (once per creation). After that, there will be a one-week period to move anything not yet moved (or decreed to stay in place). This is to allow the creations of our inactive gods to find a home somewhere. After that, no free movement will be allowed.
Turn 6 begins now. Create Plane is now a valid command. BASE PP GOES UP TO 6. Harkon, you only get 4, due to last week's fight. PP cap is now 9.
Nation Strength and Worship %s to follow.
Moving to the floating isle, so far away from anything else in this new world that had formed, he slipped into the Tomb of Itja-Rek, slipped past the confused and disoriented dragons he found there. Deep in the core of the place, where he had once spawned his draconic people in a massive explosion, he found the sleeping for of Ordrek.
Tapping him slightly, he called out. "Wake up, my young friend. Your world has changed and you need to awaken."
She saw more debris fly through, and at once, the Triskelion appeared in front of her. "Sonnet."
She sent a message out to all of the gods present in this place. "We thank ourselves and those around us for keeping us and our creations intact. Whatever caused this monstrosity of the worlds to collide, it sure would've been more disastrous if we were caught right in the middle of the final moments before we had our chance to get out of harm's way. I send my deepest regards to those who didn't make it out.
Now, we must recollect ourselves and prepare ourselves to shape our own worlds, and this time, no world mashing shall ever happen again. This is our chance to rise as independent deities-- our time to shine like a star. Make our stories worth reading in future generations. There is no reliving the past-- there is only exploring the future, and we must embrace it with what we have left and start from there we shall.
We can either go our own separate ways, or we can each help each other by mending the puzzle back into place-- this is our destiny. This is our new home."
The explosion! He had made a massive storm cloud which he was going to use to make everything better and stronger. For some reason the others didn't like it, so he tried to make it on his own. He remembered something going on, and then... an explosion. Now, he wasn't sure where he was... in fact, this entire place felt completely different from Culthet. It was indescribable, but Ordek could feel that this place was not part of Culthet at all. Shaking the thoughts from his head, he focused on the task at hand- the god that had awakened him. He seemed familiar, in fact, he had met this god before! He was the one who would not stop talking... though he didn't believe that he ever caught his name...
You! Where am I? This isn't Culthet! What have you done? Where have sent us? What's going on? And... what is your name?
The Warped World
"Poor the Itja-Rek.." the Mother replied... she hated to think of her being in pain, especially after a blow to the head like that! "As for where we are... I know not the title of this place, if it has one. But it seems to be a place where Culthet and another world have bended and twisted together to form a new one. A worthy cause, if it did not take place quite so violently and the void did not possess some form of dangers for my Children... in any case, we-"
She was cut off by a shuddering as the remainder of Culthet and Mishway collided together... good, she was afraid that in her haste she would be forever separated from her less sentient Children like her Hook Horrors! And then... someone... spoke out to them all. Regardless of her knowledge of this someone, she found herself agreeing with them whole heartedly.
"The Voice That Speaks Reason is correct," the Mother spoke to the Mothers present. "We have been given a rare opportunity to merge our two communities into one larger one of peace and harmony! If we work together to determine the best place for our creations and our Children, this world will flourish I am sure of it!"
"And let it be known that I am the Queen!" boomed the Queen, doing her best to sound mighty and important and totally a part of the ongoing conversation.
At first she was quite sure the others bought it. She glanced around nervously at first. But she was quite sure that, by copying the exact tone and pitch of the Mother, she would be able to instill the same amount of formality and thusly trick everyone into going along with this whole Queen thing. The King, however, squeaked unhelpfully beside her. The Queen grinned and shuffled back onto her mushroom. Then she cleared her throat.
"But, where should we start?" she asked, somewhat more sheepishly this time, "I mean, we had actual worlds before, now it's just... rocks floating in space. Should we... make a world?"
The Queen hadn't meant to be practical, it had just sort of slipped out. Still, though she'd never admit it out loud, having a firm ground under her feet had been a comfort and now, glancing out into the endless abyss... well, it make her rather uneasy. She craved whimsy as much as the next girl, but when it came right down to it, she needed a little steady foundation upon which to lay the crazy.
His tone finally slowed as he straightened his hat. "As for what happen, now, that is a very long and extensive story right there. Basically, my hypothesis is as follows. Culthet as we know it was only really a fragment of a much older long dead world, one that broke into pieces after some sort of world ending apocalypse. Some how, divinity reawakened on Culthet, and my experiments and calculations say that it causes the pieces to jiggle slightly, which allowed the natural forces that hold a world together to begin pulling them together, much like the way that opposite sides of a magnet pull each other together or the way that flies are drawn to manure."
"Over the course of recent time, the strange occurrences we've been seeing, like flowers and dry silty dirt coming out of my hat, as well as other things not native to Culthet seemingly just appearing from no where were and indication of the fragments beginning to come into contact with one another. In fact, within the last hour, I was able to witness the complete and total planar collapse of Culthet. Able to experience and document the very death of a world, as things simply vanished through gateways, drawn to this place, a place where all the elements of the fragments are balanced and in harmony. Everything that is, well, was on Culthet, should be somewhere within this place. In fact, I sent you here just moments before the collapse, and I was the last thing to leave, barely escaping being drawn into the nothing between places. The nothing is quite cold you know, a very very nasty place, where dire things that could consume you with little effort live. Traveling through them it quite dangerous."
"Sort of reminds of this place I visited once, now that I think about it. THe world had some of the nasty things from the nothing sealed away within it, and they broke out. Didn't end well, no, no, not at all. The people rose up and fought there best, but eventually they are their gods were consumed by the beasts and the entire world was consumed by the nothing. Myself, I fled right quick. I'm not fool. Creatures from the nothingness are not something you should really try to fight. Fleeing is always the best option there."
Adjusting his hat once more, he grinned. "You know, I'm sure there are other gods nearby. They must have arrived safely."
Itja-Rek shielded his eyes against the light and blinked a few more times as his finally corralled the remainder of his souls back into his brain. No more hitting your head he thought to himself.
L istening to the unknown god talk, Itja-Rek muttered quietly to The Mother:
"I... hope you are correct, but they will need to prove their trustworthiness to me, Mother. Perhaps some of these were secret conspirators with Concordia, something which I fear Aaviz was in Culthet. His knowledge of what was happening was simply too great."
He paused to listen to the "Queen".
"My, that one seems pleasant" he said to The Mother. "Have you met any more of our new neighbors? What do they look like?"
Warped World
The Mother would probably have found what the Aaviz quite interesting, but she usually simply toned him out when he said more than two or so sentences at a time.
"Concordia?" the Mother asked. "I believe that was the name of a creature we just banished! Both Culthet Mothers and the Mothers of Mishway.. which I believe is the name of the other world if I am to remember correctly.. were drawn into a large conflict. The Leviathan and this Concordia of yours were fighting, quite near to the Hive and my Children in fact! We were all scared stiff that they'd end up crushing everything in their struggle, so we subdued them then locked them both within a large ice prison."
Turning to the one in question, the Mother smiled slightly. "Yes, I have met one or two... the Queen being one of those, or the one. She seems to be quite nice, and worthy of respect if the title Queen is anything like it is amongst the ants that crawl the earth. She must give birth to very strange larvae though with a mate like that, and with that unusual appearance! And far stranger she should not be accompanied by workers to feed her so she has the strength to continue birthing, and warrior ants to protect her... let alone those who work in the nursery who would take away the larvae before she could eat them. As for their appearance, it would appear the Queens odd squishy appearance seems to be the norm... the Aaviz would fit in surprisingly well, as would the Davos' new appearance."
Itja-Rek chuckled at the description of the Queen. Some of his souls were informing him that the Mother's idea of a 'queen' was different from the form they were used to. The image in his mind was one of stately elegance and formality, rather than the more... sensual version the other god was describing. "Perhaps we are to be those workers, Mother. Have you considered that? As for her brood... I cringe to consider the consequences of such a union."
The next bit of information disturbed him.
"Davos has taken the form of these others? How very disappointing. I had hope that he would be a bulwark against any change that might be forced upon us. I am also not in the slightest surprised that Aaviz' form matches that of these others... it only furthers my suspicions."
The god turned to look at the trapped beasts.
"So that is the great Concordia? Was anyone ever able to verify whether or not she caused this whole mess by smashing our two universes together? Or was she just an opportunist?"
Culthet
The Mother cocked her head curiously at the Itja-Rek. "But the Itja-Rek, we are Mothers... Queens also, as it were. How can we both workers and Queens? Though admittedly I have not seen you nor many others lay eggs," she confessed. "Unless those 'souls' that you you speak of are larvae ready to be dropped?"
The Mother sighed. "Indeed, the Davos was far more handsome in his old form, instead of this squishy new one he chose to adapt... as for the Aaviz, I do not know why his form so closely matches these other Mothers, but I would guess it is because it is about as far from the form we adopted on Culthet as possible! The Aaviz is quite contrary at times."
"As for this Concordia... well, it FELT like a natural occurrence," the Mother replied. "And I am sure anything this the Concordia could do would feel anything but natural... indeed, when fighting her I was not even entirely sure I could sense a sentient mind. The Aaviz believes that this merging was because out two worlds were destined to be one, and... well, perhaps he is correct. There are startling similarities as well as differences between the two kinds of Mothers, and especially amongst their creations."
"Well, I'm glad to see that you're taking this so well. But before this world can fluorish, it needs a name, don't you think? And perhaps we should connect the lands; it would be wonderful if our creations could interact."
He looked at his own isolated landmass, and saw the eroes flying happily from continent to continent.
"After all, nothing's changed if we're in our own little worlds."
"This place is the Abyss. At least, that's what I'm calling it." Sonnet flicked his gaze around, first Caltabactos, and then the others. "And do you realize that you're upside down?"
The Queen beheld Sonnet for a moment, puzzled by her suddenly masculine appearance, before speaking.
"No my dear, you're upside down, we all happen to be upside up," she remarked, but then faltered, "No, that's not right, you're upside up and we're downside down, wait, um..."
She appealed to the other assembled gods for a little assistance. She was apparently not very weathered in the area of upsides and downside. What even was an upside, she wondered before plowing on.
"Someone please tell her that she's the one who's oriented incorrectly," said the Queen, finally beginning to get upset, this whole business was giving her a headache. Then she addressed Sonnet herself, "And do you realize that you're the wrong gender?"
Smirking as if she had suddenly just won the whole debate, the Queen folded her arms in front of her chest and plopped smugly down onto her mushroom. Let's see her counter that one.
"As for that Concordia... I don't know where that thing came from. I had not the resources or the power to create such a beast, since I'm practically a youngling still. It did threaten to destroy the Mother's hive. It came close and it said something like 'Concordia awaits' or something terrible. I thought it was going to destroy my colosseum, too..." She focused herself and let herself calm down. 'At least those beasts are imprisoned, but it won't be long before they're freed from their icy prison... I really don't like them being so close to our creations...'
'In any case, I think it's time for my children to learn how to use their resources wisely, and maybe make something else just as useful.' She quietly floated a few feet from the rest of the deities, and held her hands out towards the colosseum. Fresh, new flora started to grow on the colosseum, and the trees that were placed on it started to grow bigger, and their roots expanded onto the roots that were already connected to colosseum. Flowers bloomed with rushing color, as the star's light shined upon the steep slopes of the floating rocks that hovered like the Waltzing Mountains.
Next, she flug a few specks of her essence out in front of her, and several more birds-- bigger than the stormbirds in physical size, darted off in all directions first, making loud squaks, and trailing sparks of lightning from behind them. Then they darted straight to the colosseum, and perched themselves on the outer rocks. The stormbirds that were perched on those few rocks moved themselves away from their spunky newcomers, making noises to ward the oversize intruders away from their territories. The Thunderhawks did not budge; instead, they shot tiny bolts of lightning at their smaller kin to ward them off. This angered the stormbirds, but they knew that they'd have no chance to ward off something with a deadly power.
Finally, Schi'vya imbued the elementals with a vision of using the Stormbirds and the Thunderhawks as steeds. 'You now have the knowledge to tame these creatures and to use them as your humble steed. I am giving you this opportunity now, because there may not be another opportunity in the future. If those creatures ever wake up again and they threaten to destroy what I've made, use this knowledge to find refuge elsewhere.'
She turned around and sighed with pleasure. "Well, that's taken care of... Now, where were we?"
1 PP- Nourish Land: The Stormbridge Colosseumhas been given a more natural look. Bushes, Flowers, and Trees have grown bigger, and the roots supporting the floating rocks surrounding the colosseum have become stronger, making foot traffic a lot safer and easier to manage.
3 PP- Spawn Greater Beast (Thunderhawks): Massive birds of prey, they are larger than the Stormbirds by physical size. They have a similar resemblance to their smaller kin, but they can shoot a deadly stream of lightning from their mouth.
2 PP- Teach Populace: The Air Elementals learn a new Tech, enabling them to fly the Stormbirds or the Thunderhawks. Elementals can fly, but not fast enough to culminate distance colonies. Plus, without wind to carry them, they'll have to rely upon other means of transportation.
Current PP- 0/9
Sonnet considered the Monarch for a while, saying nothing. He looked once at the assembled gods, up at the ground "above" him, and then back at the Triskelion far, far below.
He cocked his head at the goddess, shrugged, and bowed. "Forgive me, but I don't think we've met. You may know Syreene, and indeed are known to me because of that, but you are mistaken. I am Sonnet." He paused once more. "Do you always dress so..." he trailed off, gesturing in a way to indicate a dearth of applicable adjectives.
The Queen considered this Sonnet person for a moment, doing her best to seem haughty and unruffled.
"Well, do you always dress so?" asked the Queen sharply, not bothering to trail off or indicate any sort of adjective to follow. In fact, it was more of a statement than anything else. She was apparently more ruffled than previously indicated.
With a muffled sort of harumph, the Queen glared at Sonnet.
"Well? have you just come here to insult and belittle me and make wild aspersions about which way is up or down, or do you have something useful to say?" and this time the question was not a statement but more of a scathing retort, "As you can see we're in quite the predicament and I would very much like it if you picked a gender, stuck with it and moved on so that the rest of us can deal with this whole business of world warping in peace, thank you very much."
He tapped his foot dismissively against the air, clicking it audibly. He put his hands on his hips. "And what makes you so confident that you're the one currently rightside up? Do you have verifiable proof that that is so, or is it more of a gut instinct that leads to your opinion?" He pointed down, towards the green hills of the Triskelion, far below. "There is ground below me, so obviously that is 'down', and you folks are walking around here on the ceiling."
The Queen sighed.
"Are you done?" she asked, raising her eyebrows, "Because if so, I would very much like to return to the subject of world-making."
She glanced around at the other gods as she said this.
"I was thinking some sort of Egg shape with a cream or mauve base tone and aquamarine accents," she began, rather bossily, "Obviously, I would be the Queen, as I am, well, the Queen. The rest of you can be workers or something, various nobles and such in my own grand court."
She smiled broadly here, though it seemed more as though she was merely showing everyone how bright and shiny her teeth were than actual smiling.
"What do you all think? Brilliant, right?"
After hearing what the Queen had said, she slowly turned around and scolded the queen. "Milady, has it ever occured to you that we are all gods? Our own Kings and Queens? Or are you just trying to work your way into our stubborn, little heads? Wake up! What did you think I just did? Create some birds for your bitter amusement? Or grow some flowers out of a bowl? No! We are our own Kings and Queens, and no single deity is going to make us look like peasants!" After her little outburst, Schi'vya keeps herself still. She slowly turned herself around. "Now If you'll excuse me, I'll be going to have some tea with my friend over there on that pillar." She gently flew over towards the pillar, where Poliphas was sitting and enjoying a cup of tea.
Getting to his feet, he finally turned to address the rest of the gods, specifically staring directly at The Monarch and meeting her eyes boldly. He spoke into the silence that accompanied Schi'vya's abrupt exit. He called upon several of his souls that had once served in royal palaces, and crafted a speech.
"Lords and Ladies of Creation, regardless of upsides and downsides, leftsides and rightsides, wrongsides and rightsides, it is clear that we have all arrived here, from Culthet and... forgive me, I do not know what you called the place of your birth... We have all arrived here in disarray, beset by beasts and destruction on all sides, yet we have fought and found ourselves a small amount of peace. Let us not allow ourselves to break into squabbling factions, divide ourselves between those of Culthet and those of... your place. If you have a Queen, then we need a King."
He paused for a moment, then glanced over to Harkon and The Mother.
"I don't suppose anyone has found my crown yet, have they? It was... lost."
He turned back.
"If you are led by a Queen, then I shall be a King, and, My Queen, for the good of the Cosmos and the survival of the gods, I hereby ask your hand in marriage."
Itja-Rek knelt down and plunged his hand into the soil, willed his essence into the ground, and then pulled out a massive diamond.
"Please accept this token as a symbol of upcoming bond, and as a symbol of peace between our peoples."
If this works... the god thought to himself, I've just made the best power-grab ever.
1 PP: Nourish Land: The land beneath the Golden Forest is filled with gems of all kinds (specifically diamonds)
A Thunderbird flew up to the top of Poliphas' Pillar with an elemental on top of it, overlooking the distant creations. "Oh. Lookie here. Draekan has come to visit as well."
The Queen blinked at Itja-Rek. This was rather...
"Oh, Itja, I thought you'd never ask!" squealed the Queen in delight, hurling herself at the other god, "It's always been my dream to marry!"
The Queen threw her arms around Itja-Rek as best she could and held on tight, her eyes closed, her face split into a wide grin. She seemed to radiate a kind of triumphant joy.
The King, meanwhile, absently picked at a piece of the mushroom as if contemplating how edible it might be.
My, this certainly was getting interesting... it seemed as though these gods of whimsy and squishiness fought far more than they had even on Culthet! And over less important things even... fighting because your Children were eating one another was one thing, fighting over what was up and what was down when the world was so topsy turvy one or the other didn't matter was another thing entirely! Still, the Mother was content to simply listen bemusedly... until the Itja-Rek did his little plan.
The Mother was... simply stunned. She knew the basics of marriage... it was as mating, where two mated for the rest of their lives. Or until it no longer worked out and the female received half of the males property. But to think the Itja-Rek would actually propose to such a... such a... squishy! Surely he deserved someone more... carapaced. And insectoid. At least she would never accept such a- oh come on!
Words were insufficient, so the Mother contended herself with glaring at the new couple, releasing a fair amount of displeased pheromones.
Itja-Rek and The Monarch flew backwards, landing on the ground and skidding a fair distance. This was highly unexpected. Itja-Rek had really, at best, expected a curt nod and a dispassionate agreement from this being he had never spoken to before... but apparently he had gotten lucky.
Extricating himself from the Monarch's roving arms (a tricky task, to be sure), Itja-Rek pulled himself to his feet and offered a hand to his new Queen, pulling her up to stand next to him.
"Then it is decided. Let this be the moment when Culthet and... where are you from again? I really must learn this at some point... When the two of our peoples join together in peace."
He whispered quietly to The Queen.
"We should find a way to make this alliance more... permanent sometime soon, but for now, know that I am very happy you have accepted my offer."
He also saw, and smelled The Mother's displeasure. As the 'happy couple' returned to the main group, he placed a hand on his friend's carapace, and a soul slithered through an opening to relay a message.
"This is for convenience only, Mother. I have no desire to spend any length of time with these squishies, but for now this seemed the quickest way to prevent any conflict. If she grows tiresome... I will simply get rid of her."
The Mother didn't seem to be any less displeased at the Itja-Reks comment... either he was marrying her because he somehow liked her, or he was spitting on the very spirit of mating for life... either way, she was NOT happy with him. Mating should be for love, or at least sexual compatibility, not for simply attempting to grab power! But if he WAS mating her for that, then... ooooooooo she could just bite him in half and devour his entrails!
"Well, I am glad you are marrying her for the right reasons then," the Mother thought coldly at him. Before mentally sighing. "I hope she manages to make you happy in any case, I would hate to see you in a relationship that made you unhappy..."
"I believe the name you are looking for is 'Mishway', though that is simply what 'your' 'Queen' has taken to calling it. It was long before she, and while we don't know what it was once called, at any rate, no one seemed to care enough to contradict her."
Sonnet allowed his eyes to rove over the other Culthetian gods. "Tell me. Is it custom for your ilk to 'wed' the first thing they meet, or is that one just exceedingly desperate?"
"Exceedingly desperate, considering the bride," the Mother replied instantly, a little more acid tongued than normal with the whole affair... it was dripping out and burning into the stone even, she really should swallow her saliva more.
"I am sorry, that was cruel of me," the Mother apologized, more for Itja-Reks benefit than anything else... she still wanted to be in his good graces after all. And he was still her friend... "But it is good to know the name of where our fellow Mothers came from, even if it is merely a whimsical name imparted by a whimsical Queen... I would hope that whatever we call this new world, it will be a little more somber, and worthy of such a wonderful place."
"And this place... well, like I said. It's pretty much just the Abyss between my floor and your ceiling." Sonnet paused. "Though maybe 'Abyss' Isn't such a good name. Maybe some derivative would work."
He paused, considering. "You're still standing upside down though."
The Warped World
"Mish...way...?" asked the Queen, looking puzzled. Apparently she had never heard that word spoken aloud before, "Is that, like, supposed to be a joke or something?"
The Queen appraised the other god, her brow furrowed.
"I mean, if you're going to randomly make up names just to make me look bad, at the very least have the courtesy of being original," remarked the Queen, sounding unimpressed, "I mean, come on, Mishway, like my Mish?"
She began to shake her head.
"I mean, really Syreene, Sonnet, whatever your name is, this is rather childish of you," the Monarch pointed out, "I mean, I suppose you're just jealous of how happy Itja and I are, is that it? Because lashing out won't help."
The Astral Harper turned to the rest of the gods from... well, whatever it was called. "I suppose we could call it something else if you'd prefer. How about Susan?"
Having been knocked senseless by the transition to this new world Umbart missed most of what had happened in the new plane. Looking around he saw nothing but his small. Umbart made proclamations and speeches to the assembled gods. However, no heard a thing because his words would not carry beyond his small chamber.
After receiving no response to his words, Umbart grew angry and thrash against the chains and whole rock shook. Eventually Umbart realized that he was not being ignored, instead he was not heard. Umbart set out to find a way to communicate with his fellow gods. He began to vibrate the Chains of Culthet and found that he could create resonances as he chose.
In voice that rattled and grated musical, Umbart spoke directly into the minds of all the divinities through out the plane (except Aaviz).
I am Umbart and I have brought the heart of Culthet with me. Let us rebuild our world here on this rock in witch I a trapped. These Chains that I have forged with my blood and hold me fast by my heart will hold together our new world. Even know they know their own.
The Chains of Culthet reached out latched on to Caverns of Davos. They began to pull on the giant Caverns, being as the caverns dwarfed the small Core of Culthet, the core was dragged to the Caverns instead. When the as the Chains of Culthet pulled upon the Caverns of Davos, the integrated themselves fully into the structure of the caves. As Umbart was pulled fully into the great caves the newly strengthened Caverns of Davos express their desire to be buried. Earth and stone grew over caves and buried them deep inside a home of rock. The Chains of Culthet wed themselves with this new rock and held together with force that even a god would find difficult to break.
In the end a mid size moon floated in this new world. Umbart's voice rattled forth once more into the minds of all the gods.
Our world begins anew! Let us bring or individual creations together and make something truly great!
Umbart still not explore this new world, but at least he could find some companionship with the Caverns of Davos. Umbart set out to find what he would.
3/9 PP
-4 PP (1 from the chains) Mold: Create a mid-size moon with the Caverns of Davos at its heart.
The lord of waters sat patiently as the others discussed Concordia and the nature of this place. That they were so quick to seek forbidden knowledge did not sit well with him, but he only could hope that such foolishness wouldn't eventually lead to the release of the creatures. They were the avatars of the two world shards, metaphysical metaphores, as it were. Separating them could have curious affects on this new melded place.
And then the Summoner asking this "Kwing" person, an able fighter though she be, to marry him? A strange concept, and to the ends of which he was unsure of. His own prophecy echoed in his mind. "A fine marriage, I hope. May you, oh Itja-Keen, and you, oh Kwing, be... um... marriage-ful."
And then! And THEN someone went and created another moon, only this time rather earthy. Overly boring that element was, hardly as nice as water. Though there was that Sonnet fellow who created the other-land. It was earth and so boring, but it at least didn't follow the same boring direction that land tended to. In acknowledgement of it, he twisted the threads of power that connected him to the true Sun and Moon, to Sol and Mani, and caused them to circle that continent as well, so that in total they formed a figure eight, circling one then the other.
To note, even though I was at -2pp from the battle, Graxith was nice enough to give me two PP as well.
The tiny white crumpled ball of alabaster was dwarfed by the immense emptiness that surrounded the swirling speck of white. Absalom stared at it, at the remnants of the Masquerade (though an observer would be unable to tell, without the mask the God was just an energetic cloud, without defined orientation). The still unfinished codex drifted several feet away as well, open to the complete lack of elements, pages sitting there, half finished in the void.
What should be done with this? The thought drifted through Absalom’s mind again and again and again in the stifling stillness. A great deal of time had passed since the God of Beauty began his great endeavor, well his second great endeavor. Though, really the first one ended on such a sour note that even after coming to terms with the incident, Absalom still did not like to think about the Waltzing Mountains and the interloper.
Of course, the Masquerade was a constant reminder of that inglorious act. He could re-forge; recreate it as it once was. Wearing the mask would still sting and irritate the splinter of that memory. He could simply destroy the artifact. But the mere thought of this stirred up a deep sense of regret and dread.
Absalom could not simply destroy the Masquerade. But he had trouble understanding why. It was only a little piece matter. Only a hastily constructed mask covered with crude features. It was like the work of a child when compared to the intricate creations he knew himself capable of creating now. But he just could not bring himself to destroy the mask. It had power, it was useful. More than that though, he was attached to the artifact.
He had created it so he could communicate, created it so he could relate and express and emote. For so long it was his predominant way to interact with the world, it was his face; it was a part of him. When he looked upon the twisted remains of the Masquerade, he not only remembered the shame of his defeat, but also the elation he had felt when he tore the Waltzing Mountains from the earth and set them dancing in the sky. It reminded him of the curiosity and wonder he felt when he first came upon the Triskellion, at all the dancing beautiful flowers and his first encounter with other deities. It reminded him of the adrenaline coursing through arcane veins of power, circulating within his form, as lightning discharged and a terrible torrent covered all of Mishway.
It reminded him of a part of him, of all that he had been through, how he had gotten to this place, his failures, his triumphs, and he would not destroy it. Even in this broken and battered form, he could not bring himself to immolate a part of himself. It had meaning, Absalom had imparted a meaning that possessed existential weight. It did not matter if no one else knew this meaning, if it meant nothing to them or something far different. In fact, it was better that way, more beautiful. Meaning could be private, could be interpreted and multifaceted, one object could posses a host of intricate shades of meaning to all individuals. In fact, the more individuals, the more meaning, the more beauty…..
This realization momentarily stunned the God of Beauty, possibilities that he could barely fathom rushed into his mind!!! And of all the possibilities, of all the potential, one word had more of it than any other: Mortals. Plans, so many plans, so much to do!!! A tendril of energy stretched out and seized the Codex and the crumpled form of the Masquerade, drawing them towards the Gods form.
He set off immediately, rushing back towards the other Gods, the other entities, the other meanings!!! They were beautiful and he desired to be a part of the community of meaning, but as he rushed a thought entered his head. He was different now, not the same God that he was when he had fled into the cold embrace of this great emptiness. All that time in contemplation, all that time in internal struggle seeking to define and understand had changed the God.
Knowing this, Absalom did not feel right returning looking the same as when he had left. He needed a new face to present to the world, not one to replace the function of the Masquerade, but to acquire its own meaning. So reaching into himself, Absalom began to draw forth and shape divine energy, melding it to his needs and to his new self….
4PP Create Divine Artifact: The Persona- there will be a description in my next post. Don’t want to ruin the effect and make this post longer than it needs to be.
Woman, this marriage is an abomination. We are separate, fundamentally different. We of Culthet command the power of wave and wind, we claim ownership over all that crawls and writhes and walks in the mud. I, Davos called The Worm, came into being from hunger, simple insatiable hunger. When the immutable laws of nature willed that I die, I ate my kin. When all the flesh of my race dwelt in my belly, I raged at the universe, and it gave in. I became a god, and the Cosmos bent its knee. Then, Karak and I wrought the Leviathan when you pitiful gods spent your time making shrubbery walk.
You creatures of Mishway, as you call it, may claim to be equal to Culthet, but I know better. Culthet is the true world, destroyed by your plotting and scheming. I'll not drink this bitter cup of surrender that Itja-Rek peddles. I am Davos, I do not give in at the first show of power. Even now, Culthet rebuilds itself. My Caves at its core, with the other blessed remains of that place ready to follow. Come now, the Mother, First to create true life. Let us turn our backs to this aberrant union.
Karak, Harkon, Aaviz and you, Hulna, skulking off there. I offer you the sweet wine of dominion, which once we all drunk deep from. Turn away from Itja-Rek's traitorous words, he's shown his colors. He calls Aaviz a false god, a betrayer of Culthet, then invokes the covenant of marriage with the first foreign harlot he can find. Let us form an alliance, a Pantheon of the First Born.
We will rebuild Culthet from the ruins, and we shall not let these schemers go unpunished. Yet we are not without understanding. Just as Itja-Rek, first among us, has fallen into error and sin, so may the gods of Mishway return to the true path, and ally with the Pantheon of the First Born. Sonnet, you seem to bear no love for this Queen, stand with me, bring your creations amongst mine, and we shall have freedom.
In a Pantheon there are no kings, leaders are only the first among equals. Accept not the submission, the servitude this Queen demands. Instead, let the First Born stand together, those here and those who labor, like Umbart, to hold together Culthet, let us all ally to preserve freedom, and the truth that is Culthet.
I admit, at first I felt fear of this gods, before I saw them for the mewling weaklings they are. I adopted their form to treat with them. I, Davos the Worm, reject that now. Queen, see me as I truly am.
Davos's humanoid form split like a rotten fruit, blood and mucus exploding out. A massive worm, thousands of meters long and a hundred meters long erupted forth. Hanging beside it in the Void, the Scribe of Anomie floated, poised to unleash violence.
Whispering into the Mother's mind, more words came.
Mother, Progenitor of the First Mortals, let us gather our allies and leave this place. The Leviathan and Concordia were only the beginning of conflict I fear. As long as those among us, like Itja-Rek, do not stand firm, I fear we must beware of treachery. Let us ready our children for the coming war, and ready ourselves for the bloody day when these foreign gods turn on us. Come now, bring your Hive to my Caverns, and we shall establish a redoubt, a seat of power.
"I find I agree with you, Davos, though I find fault in your suggestion that myself and my creations caused this warping of the worlds. On the contrary, I've been granted the truth--" he stopped, considering his next words. "Well, some possible truths regarding the origin of this calamity -- an outsider, streaking in from the outside, rupturing your world, Culthet, with its fiery entrance." Sonnet straightened his silk tunic. "But I digress."
He turned towards The Mother. "As for you, I applaud both your honesty and candor. You strike me as a one who knows full well both what she wants, and how to go about it. I appreciate that kind of directness." Sonnet bowed to the goddess (an interesting spectacle, as he remained obstinately inverted) "I greet you, on behalf of my fellows. I would share what I had wrought with you, but I am afraid my Lyn are not easily able to climb through the skies as I."
I'm glad to see you agree with us. Now, more immediately, perhaps a bridge is in order between your lands and ours. An archipelago of stone, floating and shifting, might work.
"Why make anew when one can simply repurpose?" The god pointed his fingers, and the Waltzing Mountains came hurtling out of the void. Deftly, the god arranged the mountains such that they formed a ring, more ore less evenly distributed between the two half-planets.
Sonnet grunted. "Hm. It might take some effort on their part, but mortals should be able to find a way to get across that... if they care highly enough. I am, perhaps, more concerned about the edges of this place. It would be simply horrible if the mortals were to fall off the edge. Certainly, we should do something about that."
The Mother was not sure what to make of all this discussion... the Davos spoke a lot of truth. Objectively speaking, the creations of Culthet were far more powerful and suited for survival than those of Mishway, and they had done so much working together in harmony while the Mishway Mothers seemed to be far more devoted to squabbling amongst themselves than working together... however...
"The Davos, I appreciate your words, and I can see much truth in them," the Mother replied. "However, the Itja-Rek is no traitor, or weakling, and I will not have you speak of him as such! If he thinks he has the right to... marry... this... 'Queen'... then that is his right, and I shall respect it. Accusing him of being a traitor for attempting to forge peace, even in the stupidest way imaginable, is rude and childish!
"As for the rest of your comments, Culthet may well have been stronger than Mishway when they were both in their prime, and without much intervention the creatures of Mishway may flourish and conquer all... but why? We have been given a rare opportunity! To create a larger community, and work together to make a world that combines harshness and beauty, strength and grace together to form something so much greater than they could be apart! Why would we want to create another Culthet, or another Mishway, when we can create something that takes the best of both worlds, and creates something even greater? I am proud to of been the first to make Children, and I am proud to have been a Mother of Culthet, but every other Child after the first has as much a right to thrive as my trilobites. Even those of Mishway."
"And I must decline your offer if that is your motive," she thought to the Davos, not wanting to dishonor him in front of the others. "Though I appreciate it, my Children will NOT participate in any war... not like this, at least. I have no interest in killing these Mishway Mothers, or their Children... no matter what the Itja-Rek does... and how hurt I am by it."
The Sonnet seemed to be a rather nice Mother despite her appearance... and the Mother was always a sucker for praise. "You do me too much honor, the Sonnet," the Mother replied, graciously repeating his gesture as well as she could on six legs... which was not very well at all. "As for the edge of these worlds, I believe that Culthet was rounded... or at least, infinite and looping. No matter where they were on the world, our creations were in no danger of falling off... perhaps a similar thing could be done with our new world? Though we will also need some sort of sky, or screen of clouds... I would hate to think looking into that blackness all the time would do to our poor Childrens minds!"
Seeing the dubious faces of his culthetian brethren, he turned to all of them.
"I did not come to this decision easily or lightly, nor, honestly, did I think it would work, but if you might have noticed, we are currently outnumbered. Ordek is nowhere to be found, Aaviz was never on our side to begin with, and Hulna... well, Hulna will be himself. This seemed the most rational course of action: to form an alliance. My souls guided me to this particular form of alliance-making, and I took their advice for the benefit of us all... even if some." he looked sadly at The Mother, "do not understand my motives or agree with them."
The carapaced god spoke, and Itja-Rek smiled with relief at the god's words. At least someone understood.
"If we can rebuild Culthet, leave this place behind and start anew, then I shall be the first to devote my power to do so. Until that point, we must be cautious, all of us. If Culthet and Mishway were both destroyed... what then might happen to this new place we find ourselves in?"
"Now... has everyone been introduced? I am, as I mentioned Itja-Rek... and yes, I am made of souls, to get that out of the way."
The Warped World
"I'm sorry, did I offend one of you somehow?," asked the Queen slowly, pulling herself back onto the mushroom, "Did I hurt your feelings?"
She began to pull herself onto her feet, her lower lip trembling, her anger seeming to rise up inside her like an angry snake. Her arms without conscious thought wrapped themselves around her body, as if shielding her from the words that were being hurled at her.
"What is it about me that you find so terribly unappealing?" she asked, her voice rising, and she snatched the crown from atop her head, "Is it this? Is it this crown that makes you hate me?"
She hurled the crown aside and grasped the diamond Itja-Rek had given her, "Maybe this? Hmm? Is this why you hate me?"
Hurling that aside, she pulled at her skirts, heaving them up so that the stitches popped, "Maybe this? Is it my clothing, or my hair?"
As she yelled, she tore great pieces of fabric out and yanked at her carefully done up hair so that it spilled aroung her shoulders. She grabbed her embroidered bodice and heaved, and with a great tearing sound her dress came away. She tossed this aside and stood before them all, dressed in naught but her underclothes, "Does this make you happy? Does this make you satisfied?"
"What about these? Do these make you uncomfortable, make you scared or worried?" she cried, gesturing at her chest, "Or maybe it's this ass."
She tore at her underclothes so that rolls of pale flesh were visible around her belly, "Maybe it's all this soft flesh here."
She took a step forward, and her form began to shift and melt before their eyes, reforming as a tall, chittering Trilobite, "How about like this, am I better for you now?"
Then a Bryofite stood before them, "How about like this?"
A young human girl, "Like this?"
A Wood Waif, "This?"
An elderly Mish, "Or maybe this?"
Then a vast sluglike thing suddenly exploded onto the mushroom, viscous slime rolling down its pale sides. The Queen's voice moaned out from the thing, "Look Davos, I can do that too!"
And then the Queen was there again.
"You disgust me. You all stand here with your talk of forms and shapes and home worlds. You have your creations, your babies, your land masses. But what you all fail to grasp, what each of you fails to comprehend is that I could be you, or you, or possibly you." She gestured to each god in turn as she said this, "We are all the same because we can all be anything, absolutely anything we choose. In fact, absolutely anything can be whatever we choose because we are gods. and if you can't see that, well, then I am truly sorry for you."
And with that the Queen... the Monarch... the Woman... the Goddess.... was gone, vanished upon the gently stirring air....
The Mother was proud of the Itja-Reks attitude... except perhaps that he still wanted another Culther as opposed to one world to share. And of course his marrying the Queen... speaking of which, it seemed she just had a hissy fit!
The Mother would have been amused at the Queens little tantrum... if it didn't set her upon a rather disturbing train of thought. They COULD look like anything they wanted, couldn't they? They all could... the Mother had only changed her appearance for functional reasons, but she could change them for other purposes as well if she wanted to. This was the form she was born with, and she had thought it was the best and most beautiful it could be, but... the Itja-Rek chose the Queen for his mate. Even if it was for purely diplomatic reasons, surely he could have chosen a more... insectoid member from amongst them? Perhaps he found a form like the Queens more... pleasing. And come to think of it, barring the Davos, there were little like herself, and far more like the Queen amongst the Mothers... did that mean that her body was as hideous to them as they were distasteful to her? So did that mean most of the Mothers found her form... repugnant? The Mother couldn't help but look over her straining and bloated carapace self-consciously.
"What?" the Mother asked, only half paying attention, still busy looking over her insectoid form. "Oh, well I did not know this Queen, and though I am certain there are more suitable mates available to you, I did not know of this ones flaws... but as for introductions, I am the Mother, birther of the first true Children, protector of the hive that is the world and care taker of every larva that crawls the earth."
"If only it were as simple as finding one who was pleasing to my eye, Mother." the god said quietly, so that only The Mother, and perhaps anyone else listening very closely, could hear. "I am afraid that anything as simple as physical attraction is quite beyond me in my current state. My souls war amongst themselves constantly, and while I can maintain control over them for the time being, their thoughts and, in particular, their interests still influence me. As I am made of members of all the races of Culthet: Naga, Trilobite, Bryofite, Mindflayer, even Death Titans contribute, not to mention the sizable remainder of souls from before Culthet... nothing is quite that simple. The Trilobite souls revere your form, as do the Naga... the souls of before fear it, and trust a form like my Queen's more... although few of them find it attractive either. The only thing they tend to agree upon is that they do NOT like their current form... which I cannot blame them for, I imagine. The Queen is suitable... for the purposes of this alliance only... it is a shame, but there likely can never be anything more than that between us."
Itja-Rek frowned. He hadn't meant to sound quite that depressing.
The Mother felt great pity for the Itja-Rek then... she was a being of cardinal desire. Eating, mating, birthing, caring for ones young... these were the things that comprised her essence. The idea of not being able to find a mate enjoyable in a physical sense was... tragic. As much as she hurt from him choosing the Queen as a mate, and mocking the institution of matehood as a whole... she couldn't blame him for doing so when he knew no other reason to make someone his mate.
"That is... I am so sorry, the Itja-Rek," the Mother replied simply, no longer acid tongued... having swallowed her saliva some time before. "If you cannot find matehood enjoyable... I hope at least you find happiness in spending time with your mate outside of the physical."
This did not dampen her thoughts on her own form however... the Itja-Rek may not find any form more attractive than another (though the Mother longed to know whether his opinion on attractiveness operated on a 'majority rules' system of the souls that comprise him... and if so, what the majority was), the other Mothers seemed to, for the most part, find this... 'humanoid' form to be most natural, and therefore most beautiful... she would never have her Children think as much, but she longed to be seen as beautiful by all... and as much as she loathed to admit it, her current form was... monstrous in the eyes of those who were more small and squishy.
Sonnet finally flipped over himself, mimicing the others orientation. He sensed an inner turmoil within the Mother, the many threads of her destiny suddenly whilring, unraveling, and reweaving. He put what he hoped to be a comfortable hand on her... well, he thought it was her shoulder.
"Don't worry." he said, simply.
Was her inner workings so obvious that the other Mothers could see them? She hoped not! Considering her appearance was one thing, though it was too trivial an inner matter to consider aloud she would not mind others knowing her thought processes... after all, she WAS unlike most of the other Mothers in appearance. But knowing her thoughts on the Itja-Rek was another matter entirely!
He was to be mated, so any feeling he had towards him were not to be... though perhaps it was simply that she was sad that her friend would soon be having to spend most of his time on his mate more than the loss of him himself that had her so upset. Though she confessed that of all the Mothers, he was the only one she would have considered ever mating with one day... she was happy simply being the Mother to her Children, but she had always thought that one day, if they both wanted to settle down...
Oh Mothers, she was thinking too deeply about this all again... this was not the time nor the place, especially with all these places floating around in the void with no place to settle down! Especially the Hive... her poor Children...
"Thank you, the Sonnet," the Mother replied, giving off some grateful pheromones, and trying to push down any ones of conflict or thought. "But there is much to worry about... while we bicker and propose here, our Children are floating about with no home! We should focus on rebuilding the world, then we can discuss matters amongst ourselves... I would place the Hive somewhere, but I am afraid that it requires very specific functions to work that are not yet implemented in this world. At least a place that rains most of the time, is fairly windy, and is on a coast, if not identical to its previous locale! Though I confess it would be nice if it were to be connected to a larger land mass to make travel to and from more simple..."
As Umbart walked the might halls he heard what the other gods were saying. Then he came upon small community of Death Giants we attacked him with out hesitation. Umbart tried to show them mercy but the would have none of it. Umbart was saddened to have to slay such a small and unworthy foe. He then hid himself from mortals so this would not happen again. In his wanderings he found little of interest until he enter the chamber that housed the Sybilline dream. He looked on all of thie images before him and his mind boggled. Concentrating hard the multitudinous images before him Umbart finally saw the shape of the world. Umbart rattled the chains that still held him prisoner once more and his jangly musical voice rang forth to all gods once more (except Aaviz).
WAR, how can you think of that now! War should only be fought when there is some thing to fight over. We have nothing! There are floating chucks of rock and water in a void of nothing. This planet that constrains me is small yet is in shape that can grow more easily be made support our children.
When the time comes for division I will cut gods into to parts. Those who helped build the world and those that did not. We can bicker over how the world should be and weather should be one or two worlds here, but for now ALL else must be put aside.
Davos: This rock that contains your home needs to be bigger, make it so.
Harken: This world need water, you are waters master
Mother: As the one who first had children, you must know the will perish if they stay in void away for all else. Please bring you hive.
Sonnet: I feel that you have the power to make this world move and spin bring forth natural cycle this would help us all.
I see other places floating here in the void that are not tied to a world. Bring you continents here and let us build something stable and lasting so that tragedy of Mishway and of Culthet will not be repeated here.
I can not for your origin or your shape. I can on if you have Honor. To have honor one must be true to their duty above all else. Our duty as gods is to create and mold a place for children and to ensure that we guide them. As of now seams that some you have no interest in your duty.
His speech done Umbart looked into the dream and wait for the others to respond.
"Wise words, Mother, as always," Harkon said.
"Perhaps a truce for now? So that we might rebuild this world in peace for a time, without this fighting?" one eye turned towards Davos as he spoke. "For good or ill, we are stuck together. There is not yet a world worth ruling, so why talk of domination? In this feud what little there is might well yet fail. Put ill feelings aside, for now. A new world has been born, let us nurture it to life. Let us drive back the chaos of the apocalypse."
The scaled, serpentine form of Harkon rose up upon itself and the frothy ichor within his body began to boil. The prismatic substance retreated from his body, leaving it pure once again, until there was but a single drop of ichor that fell from his mouth and floated before the other gods.
"With my blood I fought to secure the safety of this world. With my blood I will bind myself to that purpose. I give my blood oath that all my days I will strive to uphold law and order. I give my blood oath that all my days I will be a foe to those who seek to undo the world and bring chaos. Come, if you are not a fiend, an affront against existence itself to be struck down now, give your oath as well."
A voice from an unknown god echoed in Harkon's mind. He traced the path that the words have traveled with his mind and the waters that dripped in the Caverns of Davos vibrated and a faint echo could be heard in the place, "Who are you and how do you know my name?"
2PP Global Artifact: Blood Oath - Needs at least one other god to give a blood oath themselves in order to be complete; if that doesn't happen, Harkon will take back his offered power.
The Blood Oath is an intangible artifact that lives in the blood/ichor/whatever of those who have sworn themselves to it and offered a portion of their essence. One bonded to the oath may tap into the power and receive a PP towards Nourish or Spawn (sans Superior) actions (though as this crosses categories, if an admin disapproves, it will only be for Arbitration sans Mortal Attack instead). There is a caveat, however, in that as this power resides in the blood, one must injure themselves to use it, and in turn they receive a -1 combat rating for that week, after which it heals. The wound from anyone who uses the oath but violates it does not heal, however, giving them a -1 combat rating each week that they violate the oath. The loophole is that one doesn't have to give their oath in the first place, and they don't have to injure themselves unless they actually want to use the power of the artifact.
Essentially, the oath is that a god will not be of the Chaotic alignment. I think this action essentially puts Harkon in the Lawful alignment himself.
4PP +1 Remaining
Shrugging, he sank into his mind, searching for any signs of divinity in this strange new place. Fining many more than he would have ever suspected, he snapped his eyes open, glancing again at his only companion. Straightening his hat, he offered a slight smile. "THis ought to be interesting."
Waving his hand at a nearby wall, he opened a shimmering portal, grabbed Ordrek, and walked through, reappearing moments later in the midst of the assembled gods. "Hullo everyone! Oh, good, I was hoping I'd find you, Mother. You know this narcoleptic god, right? Ordrek, I think his name is? I woke him up but he went right back to sleep."
Seeing Harkon nearby, he coated himself in a protective bubble of force to keep any watery intrusions away. "Hullo Harkon. I see you are starting to take on more solid attributes. Still soaking things to learn about them?"
Umbart heard the voice in his chamber and was glad. He took the chains once more and his voice swept over the gods once more.
Forgive, in my frustration I forgot to intoduce myself. I am Umbart the Mighty. I know you all because I can see everywhere with this wonderful wall that Davos has built. I see your oath and I will swear it with you. My only condition is that you bring join in the Caverns of Davos, for i can not leave, and that you bring water my rock so the next step to it being a world can be taken. I invite all who would build a world for our children to prosper in to join me here.
Lacking a desire for amusement at the moment, Harkon ignored Aaviz's nonsensical comments and instead informed him of the blood oath he was attempting to convince the other gods to agree to.
The dripping waters in the Cavern of Davos vibrated the rocks again, sending Harkon's words to those there. "Do you mean, Mr. The Mighty, that that mockery of my moon is yours? You've tried my patience once by forming it, twice by spying upon us. Do not ask a third time. If you know us, then you are an essence of power. Leave that place, and join us in the light of Sol."
To himself the lord of waters thought that he'd need to do something about that wall thingy. Spying was most certainly against the good order of the world.
She couldn't tell what it was-- all it showed was adifferent image of what she saw before... something... not so divine...
A large metal object shaped like a triangle wth jets of superheated air was spewing out from underneath four small shafts pointing straight up and down. The object was floating in midair, and the air that was forced out of the shafts was loud-- deafening loud. the object had a white color to it with black highlights, and it had a glass window on the front.
Another look at this object revealed that the middle of this object was bulky at the center. A large space on the inside siggests that the object must be some kind of... machine... but the idea of machines was far beyond the capacity of any being now. Jutting out from the side of the bulky section were thin pieces of metal that finished the triangle. These parts held the turbines, and they turbines rotated vertically up and down as it moved downwards toward the ground.
The massive amounts of wind the shafts generate was blowing the trees below like ragdolls, and the deafening roar of the shafts made it hard to focus even what the machine was doing...
Warped World
Schi'vya woke back up from her split-second nap on one of the chairs on the Pillar. She saw Poliphas in one chair, Hulna on another, and Draekan next to her (Schi'vya). She smiled. "Hello, Poliphas. It is nice to see you again."
"Well, did I mention that I recently hit my head? Thinking straight has been a little challenging lately."
When Umbert's voice rang across the heavens, Itja was somewhat relieved to know that the other god had escaped. His relief was short-lived, however. Aaviz approached and the god of Tombs floated upwards to place himself between the god and the others. He pitched his voice so that all could hear.
"You. Leave and slink back to whatever hole you originally came from, traitorous ally of Concordia. You are not welcome here, not after what you did. Sonnet has had a vision of what caused the devastation, and it was you, coming from beyond, trying to steal me back and trap me between worlds, sowing dischord and preventing us from finding a solution. Begone."
Turning on the assembled crowed, Aaviz, swept his hat off of his head, offering a bow. "Aaviz, master wizard and inventor, at your services, figuratively speaking."
Adjusting his hat carefully as he replaced it, he moved towards Harkon. "I forgive you for the rudeness of the soaking during our first meeting, but then I was not truly myself at the time either. How has this cataclysm treated you, so far?"
As the Queen moved slowly, wistfully away from the centre of the universe, a thousand and on questions whirled about her mind like angry hornets.
Should she have stayed and defended her case? Should she have tried to make them listen, to see what was paining her so? Every one of that cruel Davos' words had cut her, and cut deep, like a dagger with wicked barbs. And each second that the other gods had watched on, watched on and ignored his blatant cruelty was like another sharp twist of the hilt, driving the barbs in deeper.
She supposed she should have expected it. She was from Mishway, they were from Culthet, another world entirely. Naturally their brains would function differently, naturally their reaction to a proposal would be anger instead of joy. She only thought that perhaps Sonnet would have supported her. Ah well, chalk this one up to sensibility.
Her thoughtful wanderings had carried the Queen far from the other gods. Now Sonnet's inverted land floated above her. Hmm, thought the Queen, perhaps she was downside up after all. She spun around so that her feet now pointed at the ground and gently drifted, well, downwards.
She liked it here. Somehow, it felt more like Mishway. That was comforting to say the least. In Mishway, she didn't have to be chitinous, or big, or small or chubby or fleshy to be accepted. She didn't even have to accept proposals or not accept proposals. She could just have her tea parties and be done with it. In a fit of whimsy, she knew what she was going to do.
"First, I must have a legacy, a place to nurture and to grow and to call my own!" she cried, and as she spoke, she waved her arms in a broad arc. A fleet of mushrooms came soaring down from above and settled into a vast forest right before her eyes, a vibrant frenzy of dots, spots, and speckles. The Queen marched headlong into their midst. They rose high above her head, forming a dense canopy of caps. There were even smalled varieties springing up around the bases of the stalks.
"I will have new children," announced the Queen, "Kin to the Mish, they shall be the Mush, for their forms will forever be mutable, everchanging to suit their many and varied whims."
She spotted a few Mish poking their heads around some nearby mushrooms, trying to spot what all the noise was about.
"Aha!" cried the Queen, spotting the Mish there, "You shall be my first born!"
The Mish ambled forward, not quite sure what she was going on about. The Queen plucked a violently orange mushroom from the floor and held it up to the advancing Mish, letting it's intoxicating perfume wash over them. The Mish themselves felt a most peculiar sensation when they caught a whiff of the mushroom. They felt as though they could dance, jump, leap around, do absolutely anything they wanted, be whatever they wished. And they began to do just that. Jumping and frolicking around the clearing, lost in the ecstasy of the plant, they began to explode into various forms. They experimented with hair colour, skin colour, length and width of body parts. They looked like minature living kaleidoscopes as they cycled all through the known spectrum and then some. Finally, they collapsed, exhausted, their frenzied dance over. But these were no longer Mish. These were the Mush, blessed by their goddess to be whatever, or whomever they chose.
The Queen looked upon her new children and smiled, clapping her hands together in glee. And somewhere inside she knew, the Age of Changing had begun.
3 PP - Shape Populace - The Mush - Mechanically the same as Doppelgangers save for their ability to assume Small forms, the Mush inhabit the newly formed Mushroom Forest.
1 PP - Nourish Land - Numerous new species of Mushrooms appear in the Mushroom Forest including the Mush Mushroom, a vibrantly orange mushroom that briefly allows the user to gain the abilities of a Mush. The Mush Mushroom also invokes extreme feelings of ecstasy. It is, however, a drug and can be very addictive. Side-effects include paranoia and sentiments of rebellion.
2 PP - Guide Nation - Mushway - This new nation is formed of Mush and of Mish and inhabits the Mushroom Forest.
Quite experienced and knowledgable? That seems like an unreasonable supposition, to Harkon. Aaviz had never been able to actually offer any evidence that he was from another world like he claimed to be. Given his general insanity, it seemed likely that he had merely dreamed it all. However, he said none of this.
"Concordia," Harkon began, "was a beast of some description that decided to wake the Leviathan. Together they threatened what little reality there was in this place. They've been sealed."
The Lord of Waters said those last three words like a tumblers in a lock falling. "The cataclysm, as you call it, has been nice enough, as cataclysms go." Which is, of course, to say that there was no means of comparison to judge if he had been treated well or poorly.
"Perhaps a bit more unstable than I would like," again an eye bobbed in Davos' direction.
"Itja," he said as he turned his attention to the summoner. "Would you trust Aaviz here if he were to give a blood oath that regardless of what was in the past, he will be true to the propogation of life and order in this world?"
"Do you even hear yourself speak? You admit that you are 'quite experienced and knowledgable' in the very things that I accuse you of! As for Concordia... she was no mere beast. Concordia: a beast that spoke and demanded our world's surrender, and after our refusal, destroyed it. Karak can support my words, as could Umbart. Yes, I could imagine anyone being in thrall of such a being. However, If you swear to Harkon's blood oath, I will be satisfied."
He quieted down, turning somber. "I was on a world once that was destroyed by creatures from the great otherness. I watched them tear free from the bonds placed upon them . I watched the lands people and gods rise up and fight them. I was there when myself and my kin fought them. I was there when these beasts annihilated all opposition with unnatural vengeance. And I fled, barely escaping, as they consumed the world for their own pleasure. This was not an act of some great beast. This was a natural collapse. Had something brought and end to Culthet as you described, none of us would still be alive."
Falling silent, he let his hat slip over his eyes.
As he glared at those nearby, his gaze hardening and taking on a hateful edge as he stopped on Itja-Rek, "I'm done with you. You've brought back recollections of things best not remembered, and if you persist in maintaining your delusion of reality, then enjoy it. I have no responsibility to prove anything to any of you.I am who I am, and I can be nothing more, regardless of what fabrication you desire to accept."
Turning, he began to walk away.
"My 'delusion' is this: I find myself one day having my essence stolen away from me into an extraplanar space. I recover my essence, only to find that at the end of it is you. You claim to have nothing to do with it, so I ignore the strange coincidence at the time. Soon after, you begin sowing discord among the gods and weakening our unity, not to mention your proclivity to rip chunks of Culthet itself from the ground and send it high into the heavens, no doubt weakening the underlying structure of the plane itself. Then, strange events begin to occur, including a similar looking hole to that which I pulled you out of. Through this hole, there is a being that claims to be responsible for the strangeness, and claims the ability to destroy worlds and claims that she has done so in the past. As our problems escalate, you continually insist, although I have not seen any reason to belive you, that you know what is happening, and that all we can do is wait and speed it along, for it is a natural occurance. Then, I discover that Harkon, the Mother and our Leviathan, and probably some of these mishway folks as well are all fighting Concordia while you fiddle as Culthet crumbles, calling it an 'opportunity' and 'a chance to study'. Even if you are NOT an agent of Concordia, I abhor your attitude towards the whole matter. If you swear an oath that you had nothing to do with this... then I will believe that. Perhaps, though, you are lying and the tears you cry are those of remorse. I do not know why you cry, but I know that my world is gone, and I know my feelings on the matter.
So leave, flee from us if you cannot swear your oath. The circumstances of the situation damn you."
"You. Leave and slink back to whatever hole you originally came from, traitorous ally of Concordia. You are not welcome here, not after what you did. Sonnet has had a vision of what caused the devastation, and it was you, coming from beyond, trying to steal me back and trap me between worlds, sowing dischord and preventing us from finding a solution. Begone."
Sonnet perked up at that. "Oh? This was the one who arced across the skies of Culthet, piercing the plane and starting all this?" He looked at Aaviz, appraisingly. "Did it hurt when you fell through the heavens?"
"Well, I'd have to say-- these new thunderbirds, or whatever you'd want to call them, are pretty nifty. I mean, I almost got zapped out of my wits hadn't I noticed the lightning arc coming straight at me." Draekan laughed at his own inquiry and sipped some tea.
Again? Again?! This was just...
The pheromones the Mother let out could have melted metal. "EXCUSE ME, young Children, but unless you noticed, this is neither the time nor the place for baseless accusations and pointless fighting! Who CARES how any of this happened?! Concordia and the Leviathan are both sealed away, and I doubt one or the other caused any of this... from what I understand of the Leviathan, it could not have caused this disaster, and since it seemed an equal match with Concordia, I should say it couldn't have cause it either! Besides which, who says this isn't a GOOD thing? Culthet is gone, Mishway is gone, but by both of them merging together, each world has gained something it lacked but the other had! Mishway now has strength, and Culthet heart! Mishway now has solemness, and Culthet whimsy! If we could actually WORK TOGETHER like Mothers and not bicker like LITTLE LARVAE, this could be that chance to create some kind utopia! As is, all we're doing is fighting and fighting while the poor Children suffer! Well I will have none of it! If we can't all get along, I suggest everyone who wants to pick a fight GO BACK TO THE VOID THEIR WORLD HAS BECOME!!"
Panting with the sheer weight and heat of her outburst, the Mother twitched her antennae irritably, trying to calm down. "In any case, we have business to attend to... and none of it involved what has happened, but what must. Besides which, we all agreed before the Itja-Rek and the Aaviz came here to not point fingers at who created the Leviathan, or Choncordia, and to simply leave it at that. As for this oath," the Mother turned to the Harkon. "I will gladly bind myself to the peace and harmony of our community of Mothers and the safety of every one of our Children for all eternity... it is nothing less than I would have done anyway. The others may be reluctant in the face of all this conflict, but I for one am not."
1PP? - Mother contributes to the Blood Oath... if no-one else takes Harkon up on his offer, she will contribute the second PP too, she is simply giving the others one last chance to contribute to the peace and harmony of the new plane.
[5/7]
"But... I-" he said, trying to get out a few words to make his case, but finding that under the withering glare of his insectoid friend, that was... difficult, to say the least. Swallowing his pride, he turned to Aaviz and with obvious tension in his voice, he managed to mutter: "I don't like you, and I don't trust you, but The Mother has a point. We must at least attempt to work together, even if we don't like the idea very much. I..." He nearly gagged while trying to say the next few words. "...apologize for my rudeness."
Turning to Harkon, he said: "I too will join in this bond. Let us have unity. I only hope that some of our brethren from Mishway will join us in this pact."
1 PP: Create Artifact: Finishing off the Blood Oath.
4/9 PP left + 1 arbitration.
So Ordek woke up and his foggy mass jumped upwards, as if in surprise... needless to say, Ordek was wide awake.
In his view was Itja-Rek, the Mother, Davos, and a few gods he had never met before. His voice resonated, What the hell just happened, what was with the yelling, and who are those of you I do not know?
As Itja and the Mother added their ichor to his own he could feel fires set ablaze in his body. His serpentine form writhed with power, his waters turned the ethereal gray of souls, then the brown of an insects carapace, then back to his crystal purity. The parasites he used for eyes burned brighter than Sol. Flailing and flobbling, Harkon struggled to keep his body intact. When he could stand it now more, he looked skyward and an orb of undeniable power burst from his mouth and went flying through the world, landing finally in the waters around the hive.
Awash on the shore the orb faded. A creature that shared the shape of Itja rek lay there, though its body was harded to the environment, like the Mothers, and from the things eyes burned the light of order that the blood oath symbolized.
0PP - Ascend Rampart
Umbart, I felt someone wandering through my Caverns, using my artifacts. Why are you here? This is my domain, and the Sybline Dream is my tool. I might let you gaze into its liquid silver, but only for the asking.
Then, Davos turned away from the god and turned his eyes, for once more he wore the fleshy form of a man, towards the vast tableau of shifting silver. One tile, one life, in particular stood out to him.
Concordia.
A thought, and his body lifted towards it, ascending until a mercurial glow bathed Davos' pallid skin. In quick succession, images spilled out from the tile. A woman, clearly the Queen by her piles of petticoats, standing on a collapsing world. Power, divine essence, boomed from her hands, forming coils in the air.
A vast, snake creature, all glistening golden scales takes shape.
"Concordia!" it screems. A name for itself.
A gash opens, the fabric of reality torn asunder, and Concordia falls through, dim bestial intelligence unfazed. Rippling muscle, mile upon mile of it, claws, long and vicious, hangs suspended in the Void.
"Eternity Awaits!"
A jolt, and Davos jerked away from the tile, a malicious light flaring in his blue eyes before the body falls to the floor, lifeless.
-------------
The slug form spasms, writhes, then awakes. A shimmer in the air, and a tile, detached from the Dream, appears beside it. Images of Concordia's creation replay endlessly.
Itja-Rek, I decided to inspect this Concordia, to determine the truth about her. What I found was beyond the wildest of my thoughts. The woman you have pledged yourself in marriage to, the Queen, formed Concordia moments before Mishway collapsed utterly. I bear the proof with me here. It seems that you are caught between two oaths. Your oath of marriage, and your oath to uphold the order of this place.
It seems only reasonable to conclude that the Queen at the very least attempted to decieve us as to the nature of the merging of planes. At worst, she caused it. I demand a trial of the Queen, to determine her guilt before the eyes of gods and men.
“Well that is certainly interesting” a strong commanding voice announced from behind one of freshly sprouted mushrooms.
As the Queen turned towards whoever was speaking, a single long, elongated thin limb covered in tiny hairs, akin to that of a spider extended out. The limb was a lustrous gold, shining regally in the light cast from the Waltzing Mountains, the leg was soon followed by another, and then another. Four golden spidery legs extended out from behind the giant mushroom, bearing forth a strange figure.
Clad in deep crimson robes covered in intricate flowing grey script, the four legs seemed to sprout from the back of an anthropomorphic figure of solid imperial gold. Four elongated elegant limbs hung from the body, a close inspection revealing a series of swirling ocean blue lines imbued in the Gods golden flesh. The head possessed high cheekbones, a pointed chin, flowing hair composed of flames, and deep obsidian dark eyes that possessed no iris. A crumbled white ball and a large leather bound tomb both hung from his waste. The four spider like legs carried the other God towards the mother, but as he approached they lowered him down till he was walking on the humanoid legs and the spidery ones withdrew into the folds of the robe.
The God was observing the Mush with a keen eye, seeming to grasp some meaning from the ever-changing forms of the young race. “You have created an entire race of ethereal form, forever mutable, forever flowing; that is quite the interesting idea. A boom this ability shall be, they can forever escape persecution, forever mold themselves to take advantage of the prejudices of others, forever capitalize on all that an appearance can bring.”
“But of course you have also cursed them….” said the golden god. “They are not Gods, they are not like us, they have no intrinsic identity that exists almost independently of their environment. Instead, they will be forever faced with the existential crisis of having no form of their own, they must instead steal the identity of others. In attempting to escape from the visual prejudices of others, you have robbed them to a degree, of a sense of self.”
“They will have to live within societies that are not their own, in forms that they know are not their own, with customs not their own. And so inured in these alien lands will they be, that they might lose all sense of themselves as a people.”
“Truly, you have created both a blessed and cursed race” mentioned the stranger as he turned to look at the Queen. “I am curious, what drove you to create such a race? Perhaps an identity crisis of your own?
He floated some distance away, and began to work, warping the land, as if it were putty in his hands. He fused the Triskelion's continent with that of Aavis' floating continent, rounding the edges, and flattening the seams. The Fey Lord's mountain soon sat in a great bowl of earth and stone, reaching up towards the Hive, above it.
Sonnet reached out, gripping the Hive, the Colosseum, and davos' caverns far below, bending and kneading the rocks until they broke under the relentless force of his will. He curved the sides in a mimicry of the top (or was it bottom now? Either way...) bringing the two domes close, but not close enough to touch.
He swept his hands through the space, and the swirling watery core below the Triskelion cascaded outwards, limning the edges of the place and forming a veil of water; Inside was the new warped world -- beyond the veil lay nothing, only the abyss.
Lastly, some small portion of his energy was devoted to Absalom's Waltzing mountains. No longer did they have an "up" or "down" beyond their own frame of reference -- removed from the gravitational pulll of all other objects, they became like tiny tiny planetspheres of rock. And they glowed so prettily.
PP Expenditure
-4 PP Mold Land: Sonnet bends the existing landforms into a single coherent entity.
-4 PP Mold Land (2 from Exarchs): Alters the way gravity affects those within the domes -- this means, among other things, that the water forming the veil need not flow "down", and indeed varies with the currents as Sol and Manni heat the water (or burst through the veil during the "day" time) and the Waltzing Mountains exhibit their own localized gravity field in exclusion of everything else.
PICTURE TO COME! (Hopefully tomorrow after I get off work.)
The Queen blinked. She was not expecting visitors. Least of all to be interrogated thusly. Still, she found she did not mind.
"I suppose that is true," murmured the Queen, her words carrying in the hushed forest, "I am... pondering what is considered acceptable in this topsy turvy new world."
She paused in her speech to watch a miniature spore twirl gracefully through the air just before her eyes. She raised a hand to touch it and it clung there, pale and green. She glanced up and saw that the air was filled with these tiny things, each flitting about on wind currents, seeking purchase, some place to settle down and grow. They were beautiful, she decided.
"Funny how the simplest things are the most beautiful," remarked the Queen suddenly, "I had forgotten that."
She turned to look the other being full in the face. The Queen's countenance was rather startling, so defiant and bold. The set of her jaw to the placement of her feet all suggested determination. Yet why were her eyes so sad?
"At least my Children will be free from the hateful, staring gazes of their peers," she declared, "At least they will be free, of body and of mind."
She relented, and turned away, kneeling to study the little mushrooms that littered the mossy ground. They too were beautiful, in their own way, with their startling patterns and remarkable hues. But they too were simple, no pomp, no extravagance.
"Is this what I need to be?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper, "Simple?"
"If the creation of Concordia occured as close to the destruction of the planes as you say, then there is no way for Concordia to be behind this. If you are correct, I owe Aaviz a sincere apology, and... my... Queen... has some answers she needs to -Whoa!"
All of a sudden, the earth shook, and the heavens seemed to roll about them! Itja-Rek had noticed Sonnett leaving earlier, and wondered if he had anything to do with this. The earth bent and buckled and moved, items spinning across the heavens towards their unknown, yet intended, destination. He reached out and grabbed at Wenet with his mind as it flew by, diverting it and sending it landing to the southwest of the Pillar of Creation.
0 PP: Move Landmass: Wenet (Itja's Tomb) lands to the southwest of the Pillar of Creation and fuses with the larger continental mass.
"Well, this is an unspeakable mess," he sputtered, "I should speak to the man in charge.... after I catch my breath."
He could remember a variety of things, mostly built: roads, aqueducts, churches, courthouses and, strangely, hives and mounds of all types and descriptions. Exactly who he was and where he'd come to this chaotic void from, however, eluded him. He seemed to recall a tomb...
Then, as the world began to shift and merge, the various pieces that remained of the twin planes shuddering towards a coherent whole due to Sonnet's power, a grin spread across his face.
"That's might be an improvement, if awfully conventional. It'd do... still need to find out who's in charge of this project, though. Looks like he hasn't quite got the chops to finish the job."
Rampart rose from the beach, shedding the exoskeleton and settling into a more conventionally humanoid shape. Scanning the area of the Hive, he grunted approvingly before reaching out with his divine senses in quest of others. Finally, he settled on the simplest solution: bellowing.
"I DEMAND TO SPEAK TO THE PERSON IN CHARGE!"
The golden figure bent down next to Queen, picking up one of the multi-colored beautiful flowers that blossomed all along the Triskellion. Examining the majesty of the flower, with yellow petals and black spots, Absalom liked to note more than that. The beauty of the flower was not just in the blossom, but in the stem and the thorns, the leaves and the roots. Most only appreciated the blossom, ignoring everything both internal and external to the creation of those petals, all of which contributed to its beauty.
“But is it better to be free of the persecution of their kin, or the persecution and existential dilemma of themselves?” asked the Golden God.
“In my experience, internal torments can be far more terrible than anything the outside world can inflict. But then again, I could be wrong” said the newcomer as he drifted into silence for a moment, deep in thought.
“Simplicity has a beauty of its own, however so can grandeur and pomp. The difference is, that grandeur and pomp signifies much effort and power invested in something as cordial as a dress…” the God of Beauty replied as he examined the Queen. “You could be so much more, but at the moment your grandeur and your complicated ceremony represent only your whims, perhaps if more effort and weight was involved it would carry more meaning.”
“Then again” smiled the Golden God “What honestly matters is your understanding of yourself as a divinity, separate from all others. If you are not comfortable with how you appear, than that is something well within your power to alter.”
“But do not give in so easily to the drives of the crowd…” mumbled Absalom as he stroked the stem of the flower he had picked….
The Mother frowned after the Aaviz, before sighing and turning back to the Itja-Rek. "Do not worry yourself over him... if he does not accept such an apology in the interest of unity and peace, he is beneath both concern and contempt."
The Mother was about to explain things to the Ordek, when the Harkon seemed to... spit something? She had no idea what was up with that, but it certainly was distracting enough she couldn't think to give an answer before the Davos came back! Doing... as was now his habit, everything he could to shatter this union of Mothers.
"The Davos!" the Mother admonished. "We swore to not look into or reveal the origin of Concordia and the Leviathan in the interest of mutual peace! You doing so and spouting their origins so openly is a contemptible act, and not worthy of one of your talent and strength! Me thinks that the warping of worlds have made your sense of right and wrong askew... though I must say its not surprising the Queen would create such a monstrosity," she couldn't help but add a little acidly... alright, so she was still jealous, could you blame her?
"Enough!" the Mother spoke. "We still talk when we should do! The Davos, I believe you offered to connect the Hive to the Caverns of Davos, did you not?" No harm in making the fact well known if she had no intention of following through on his darker designs. "That is a good start, but I am afraid that the Hive needs to be down on the earth, and connected to all else, instead of separated through it in a moon like your caverns... unless there was some way we could connect the moon and the earth? I confess to being conflicted over where to settle the Hive... it is self-sufficient enough that anywhere will do, but at the same time for the long term health of the things within it certain factors like being accessible to other races should be in place..."
"Nobody's in charge?! What is this, amateur hour? You're messing with the elemental forces of creation without so much as a notion of what you're doing?
Fine. I like a challenge. The name's Rampart. I don't know quite what happened, but there appears to have been some sort of gesture towards order and cooperation, since I'm here, and one thing I'm sure of is that it's a little early for that. Strictly speaking, your primal chaos is sort of hostile towards me."
The entity cracked its knuckles and rolled its neck, then picked up a handy stick of driftwood and began sketching a design in the sand.
"You say you're an inventor? Great. We'll probably get along. So, Aaviz, what happened here to make such an infernal mess? If there's nobody in charge, then who am I supposed to get directions for fixing it from? Fine, nevermind that. Get a load of this. Shame to waste all those chains dangling from the rock over there... we can knit all these floating bits of stuff together and..."
Though he's clearly still listening, a blueprint for a world that looks rather more like a chandelier is rapidly coming together in the dirt.
"Of course, my peers insist on believing that some stupid little beast caused all the destruction and that I was somehow working with it, even though I don't have a clue where it came from or who it serves."
Heh, Auralynx, when I said that Rampart had a body hardened to the environment like the Mother, I meant he had a weathered form, not an exoskeleton. Anywho, sorry for the confusion
I figured. A temporary inconvenience, anyway. At least I didn't get stuck trying to hatch out of an egg. :D
The Queen let her gaze break away from the flower in the other one's hand and wander up and down his own form. She drank in every detail, from the curve of the long legs to the tiny hairs that speckled them. Here too was beauty, in a way.
"But you see, I do try," remarked the Queen softly, continuing to gaze upon the other with an odd expression on her face, "I try very hard."
There was nothing sexual in the way she studied the other, no hidden desire. She examined him as a connoisseur would inspect a work of art: simply for it's intrinsic beauty. And what she saw sent a cascade of realizations about her own form and her own beauty spiralling through her brain. She did try too hard. The beauty of this other seemed to be effortless, complete and elegant, as if it had happened by accident. And that was the true beauty, she supposed, the accident.
"Do you think I'm beautiful?" asked the Queen, the words rushing from her mouth before she could stop them. She had to know, she had to find out. Surely someone so perfect, so elegant could be more open, more honest with her than those hateful others?
But she sighed, and gazed back at the flower. Who was she kidding? She was not beautiful. Her form was inevitably flawed, no matter how much she tried to cover it up with fancy clothes and pretty makeup. And her form was flawed because she was flawed. There was just something wrong with her, and that inevitably came to the surface whenever a form was assumed. And yet... she still had to know. So she did not retract her statement. She merely waited. And watched.
Grimnit grew tired of the meaningless accusations and drifted off to the Waltzing mountains. Specifically to a mountain near the one he was Hatched on. He landed and felt the earth beneath him for what seemed like the first time in a while. Flying was not an experience that he wanted to repeat any more then necessary. The land around him felt comforting. He looked at the hole in the range with a sigh, more life that he had thrown away in an attempt to get out of that blasted shell that had formed around him.
As he remembered what it looked like the mountain began to grow again out of nothing, fixing the damage the had been done. There was a slight difference, a scar, along the top of the mountain there was a socket, most like an eye socket. He walked to the top of the mountain and sat.
2/6 pp mold land: Waltzing mountains get a replacement in the hole that was formed.
4PP Remaining.
"Beauty is subjective, it is in the eyes of the beholder. If you struggle so hard to mold yourself to what you believe others perceptions of beauty are, then you will forever feel incomplete, your form as shifting and momentary as that of your new children. Instead, you should be asking yourself if you are beautiful."
Standing up, the God began to walk several steps towards the other end of the mushroom forest, at first on his humanoid legs but then on the long spidery ones as they desceded from his back. Turning back towards the Queen he looked her in the eyes and smiled.
"However, if you must know. Yes, I find you beautiful" said the God, though something about the way in which he spoke left the Queen with the impression that he was not talking about something so flippant and trivial as her physical form.
A dobbit flobbled quietly through the void, having been shaken loose from its earthy-perch. A tuft of grass, perhaps left over from the end of the world, drifted lazily by it. The dobbit's legs pushed and clawed towards it, but it could come no nearer.
An orionid furbled not too far from it, likewise set free from gravity's tyrannical grip by the sudden rearrangement of land. It's legs flailed as it tried to reach the dobbit, it's tail wagged as if to propel it, but it could come no closer.
Like the cue ball, a mouther came hurling across the void, wurbbling as it came. It hit the orionid, the orionid hit the dobbit, and the dobbit was propelled with great speed towards the Pillar of Creation.
Meanwhile the mouther, its mouth a-gap in terror as it flurbed in the void, smacked into Sonnet as s/he worked, it's mouth encompassing the god's head.
~~~~
Harkon deflated a little when he noticed that all the Mishwayian gods had left. "Heh, well, um... yes."
His eyes and mouth swam through his body to address Itja and the Mother more directly. "Let us fulfill the oath. The time for talk is over, let us create!" He intentionally left Davos out of his gaze.
With that, the lord of water's curled on its form and swam to the rest of the world, looking for something to make.
"Guess its just a Culthet-based oath for now. That works for me. To create we go!"
The god followed Harkon as he thought of what to make next in this new world.
Adjusting his hat, Aaviz hurried off.
The Mother looked at the Davos a little sadly (well, she sent off some sad pheromones.. ) before she buzzed off after her fellow oath makers... it was a shame. Though she disagreed with many of his motives even before the move to this new plane, she had liked the Davos, and respected his strength and intellect. It was a shame to see him reduce himself for mere strife and bitterness sake.
What were they going to do with this now... differently shaped world? When did that happen?? Well whatever the case, they still needed to organize their Children, and nourish the land... life must exist everywhere, it was the natural course of things.
And who should they pass wrestling with some kind of creature than the Sonnet! Oh wait... it seemed to be dead now. Well that was good, she guessed. But he seemed to be doing something... important. Important enough that she decided to buzz off from the main group and land by his side, looking over him thoughtfully.
"The Sonnet, if I may ask, what are you doing? You seem to be actually moving around the earth... which is a lot more than we have been doing while busy bickering! ...are you going to eat that?" she added after a moment, eyeing the bisected mouther.
"Ah yes." Sonnet smiled slightly. "I thought that my grandchildren would suffer, so far away from everything else. I altered this place so that they would be much closer to those of others. It wouldn't do to have our children and grandchildren spread so far out over innumerable floating masses now, would it?"
Sonnet pointed. "And look, with the veil of water, no one must look out into the emptiness of the abyss." The god drifted downwards a little to make room for Sol and Mani to float past.
"What is there to bicker over, anyway?" Sonnet admired the Mother's shiny carapace. It reminded him vaguely of the one known as Silis. But she was shinier.
In her mouth, usually, which is why the Mother didn't object to snatching the mouther out of the air in her mandibles, cocking her head up as she crammed it into her maw whole and swallowed. Blech, this mouther actually had a rather foul taste... at least it would sustain her for a while, she had not eaten enough lately, barring the chunk of the Leviathan she ripped from its hide.
The Mother found herself admiring the Sonnet more and more... she knew not why the Davos and the Itja-Rek seemed to mistrust the Mishway Mothers so. The Sonnet seemed to share her outlook more than any of the Culthet Mothers. "My! How wonderful!" the Mother praised his work. "This is far more wonderful than even I had envisioned! I had thought to merely form the land into a sphere, and shroud it in sky, but this is far better!"
As for the question of what there was to bicker over, the Mother merely sighed, her antennae drooping sadly. "The past... what else is there to bicker about in this new world?" she noted. "The Davos seems intent on war, and the Itja-Rek seems intent on an almost as equally destructive peace.." Hey, a marriage to a Mother like the Queen was the very definition of destructive she was sure! "None seem content to merely make a new world and make all of our Children a part of it... I admire you for staying above such petty matters and making the world a better place, the Sonnet," the Mother told him.
I appear to have been ninja'd... lets just say i appear after you guys have said that stuff.
Her tone hardened. "And yes, I know all about you and your lecherous ways. Honestly, the Monarch?"
Syreene turned towards the Mother. "I know that fine upstanding women like ourselves would never agree to such an extemporaneous suggestion."
This was... interesting. It seems the Sonnet changed like the Queen had before! No, this was different... this Mother was different to the Sonnet, even if they shared the same form. It was rather like how Itja-Rek complained about his souls sometimes taking over or persuading him...
The Mother instantly like this the Syreene though. For one thing, she seemed to find the Itja-Reks coupling with the Queen as loathsome as she did! For another... well, she was sucker for flattery.
"Oh indeed," the Mother replied. "The whole business is rather obscene, wouldn't you agree? Mating with the Queen, I understand Itja-Reks motives, but it is still rather an unsightly matter... no offense intended the Itja-Rek," she added for his benefit... well, not MUCH offense meant anyway.
"I... ah... Well, to be honest, I wasn't expecting her to say yes. And Lecherous? Please. I may be made of souls, but many of these souls died in their prime! They were, after all, 'heroes'. So, don't go throwing around the word 'lecherous' like that... Its insulting... although I don't exactly think of this... arrangement... in anything resembling that way..." He said, trailing off into mumblings by the end.
"Didn't expect her to say yes?" That pharse had caused her voice to go up at least half an octave, and several decibels.
"Then you're worse -- a coward. If the only time you feel comfortable expressing your feelings is when you think they won't be reciprocated, you've got bigger problems!"
Syreene pointed at The Mother. "If I expressed interest to mate with The Mother right now, it would be out of love or justice or some other positive emotion -- not a cowardly power-lust!"
The Mother glared at the Itja-Rek. "That is NOT exactly a point in your favor, the Itja-Rek... mating should be an act of love, or lust, or a desire to give birth to hundreds upon hundreds of larvae, not because you want peace or power. I understand the dilemma of your souls, but why in all of this merged world of ours did you ask such a question you didn't expect a response from??"
The Mother was a little surprised at the Syreenes next comment. "I accept your point, except perhaps mating for justice... love or lust yes, but something like justice should have other ways to be achieved," the Mother replied. "But if we were to mate, I'd expect there'd be some.. mechanical difficulties with my current form. Plus currently being the same gender is somewhat discerning."
She continued to watch Itja-Rek, a hint of disdain coloring her features.
"Looks like someone took charge of the project, and... well, that looks familiar. Maybe someone with something more than theories is available after all."
With another knuckle-crack, he conjured a boat and took to the watery aether in pursuit.
Davos I am sorry to have used you creation without permission, but it is my only way to see outside of this place for the chains hold me here. I can not give up its use, but I swear not to use to deplete is power for myself.
Umbart looking into the Dream and concentrated on the oath takers and listened to what they had to say. He gathered the chains around himself and stepped into the dream. Umbart's mind split yet his body remained in the Caverns.
To sonnet and the gather Oath taker Umbart as specter of himself with chain connected to his heart. The chain trailed back towards his moon for while before fading out.
I am Umbart, forgive me for not joining you in person but I can not leave my little rock. I wish to take this oath as well but I need one of you to come and join me in person.
I did not spy on you for I did not try and hide my presence, I am limited in my mobility right now. Mother is right we must build a strong world for all of our children.
Back in the Caverns Umbart took note or rampart and sent and stepped into the dream once more.
Appearing to Rampart as he did the oath takers Umbart emerged from the dream.
I am Umbart and I need your help. While this new shape of the world is a good one it is not anchored properly. With you help we can move my moon to the center of things and extend its chains to the top and bottom to ensure that this world can not be broken like the last one.
Damn that fool. He thought. A day will come when he shall rue those words, and when war comes, I'll laugh when the gods of Mishway turn their back upon him. A traitor has no friends, may expect no succor.
Anger abating somewhat, into a cold, enduring hate that is, The Worm sought out Aaviz and Rampart, the new-born god. When he saw their designs, plans for a new world, he approached, back in the form of the sickly courtier.
Aaviz who is this? A sense neither the scents of Mishway nor the salt of Culthet upon him. Can it be that a god has been born anew in the Void? As to these drawings in the dirt, my children have developed an interesting creation that rather exceeds that I think.
Reaching into a pocket, Davos draws out a sheet of parchment, inkwell and quill pen.
Take these as a gift, little enough it is. You seem to be forming the blueprints of a new world?
------------------------
In the Caverns of Culthet, the Death Titans made a momentous discovery. When certain magics were applied, Nothing, the pure essence of the Place Between Places, the void that had almost consumed Aaviz, could be drawn into the world. In large quantities, the inky black stuff simply consumed everything around it. In smaller amounts, however, say the size of a finger, Nothing could be sorcerously fixed in weapons, armor and ink to imbue them with certain powers.
In weapons, arrows and daggers usually bore the Nothing, because it worked best in contact with another being. A glass tip, on a dagger or arrowhead, shattering on contact and releasing a deadly jet of Nothing into the victim. Nothing poisoned daggers soon became the favored method of assassination by the rich, while the Voice ordered a vast stockpiling of Nothing-fixed arrowheads in secure warehouses.
In ink, the deadly qualities of Nothing attenuated, instead causing words to gain force. A particularly skilled scribe could bind together pieces of parchment into a flexible, light and reasonably sturdy boat, waterproof no less, by writing precise directions. Such activities might take months, even years, so major constructs of Scrivening, as it became called, were highly limited.
On a smaller scale, however, Scriveners could produce everything from clothing to messages that delivered themselves in a matter of a few hours. Such widespread availability of lesser creations soon led to the underclasses dressing almost exclusively in Scrivened clothing, while influential politicians and rich businessmen made use of Air-Male.
At the behest of the Voice, ten paper longships, each capable of carrying roughly 50 people with provisions for many months, were created. The text that flowed like liquid over the whole of each vessel also included the word "flight" and all of its synonyms. Srivened at a breakneck pace, the final vessel was complete five years after the commission first went out.
Relations with the Naga had alerted the Death Titans to the world above, and now they intended to find it. So, the ten longships, fully provisioned with crewed with the newest Nothing military technology, took flight, passed through the gashes the Naga had created in the ceiling of the Caves, and lofted towards the Hive and the Triskellion. The later appearing only as a beautiful green land far above.
PP
1PP (+1 Sybline Dream)- Guide Death Titans to explore around the Caverns, including the Hive and the Triskellion.
2PP- Teach Populace- Nothing Technology
2PP- Teach Populace- Scrivening
1PP-Nourish Populace- Durmidor (that's a city) becomes vastly more wealthy with introduction of Nothing
"Born anew indeed, and not, it seems, from either of you. The shape's not bad, but I'm afraid I need to speak to someone in a position of authority - even if Aaviz claims there's none such - before taking action. The chains have potential, and I'll take you lot into consideration, though."
Rampart accepted the writing tools from Davos with a smile.
"And these are welcome indeed."
He stowed them carefully beneath the helmsman's seat in the boat.
"It's not quite the standard I'm accustomed to, but... well, this is impressive. And yes, I'm working on blueprints, but it looks as if someone skipped that step and started improvising. We should reach them shortly. I've got a sudden notion that someone's come up with a much better ship than this little bark, here, but it'll get me where I'm going, so it'll do for now."
He steered the ship towards Harkon, Itja'Rek and the Mother's conversation with Syreene, taking in the sights of this new world.
Aaviz is right there is no authority yet, I will act as fit for now. Mabey athurity and derive from Harken's oath. I plan to swear it shortly.
With that Umbart faded out and placed his full attention on the summit of oath takers.
My chains can help hold together these to halves but I will need help to extend them from my moon to the ground. Will you, the world builders help me with this task? I can move the moon but someone will have to extend the chains.
I am prepared to offer my blood to this oath but I can not give it here.
Harkon sensed an essence following him. He hesitated for a moment, his eyes swimming through his form to look back at where he had come from. The oath-child had come up to where Itja, the Mother, and... a woman? Harkon was pretty sure he had passed a man. Regardless, the oath-child came up to them.
Still Harkon hesitated. He had just come from a gathering, there was work to be done. In his hesitation he looked around the changing world and saw fading paths of power tracing back to that woman man person thingy. There, at least, was one willing to work on making the world livable.
The lord of waters looked towards his destination, then back to this new gathering, then back to his destination, then back to the gathering. Finally he turned and retraced his slithers.
Even as he reached the others, the dream of Umbart appeared and made his message known. Harkon was pacified and would send a reply shortly.
Coming upon the two Culthetians and the Mishwayian, Harkon bobbed to each then turned to the new god. "Greetings Oath-Child. I see you are well, a splendid thing it is. Tell me, are you already used to existence?"
~~~~
A mouther wiggled and wormed its way into the moonish Caverns of Davos, accompanied by a single oculite attached to its head. It had no vision to loose, so the parasite was largely welcomed.
Through the caves is slithered until it came to Umbarts form. The Mouther opened its maw and Harkon spoke, "Forgive me of my curtness before; I do not take kindly to things that smack of deception and subterfuge. Unfortunately it is difficult to find the time to come here in person. If you wish to take the oath, please do so. The power is there waiting for you to take hold; it is everywhere, it is ready to be within you. Speak, give your essence, bind yourself to it and it will bind itself to you."
The oculite seemed to raise itself on the mouther's head as it examined Umbart. "Out of curiosity... why can't you leave this place?"
"Used to it, indeed. I seem to remember having done it once already, just not quite as... significantly. I take it I have you to thank for this opportunity. Which one of you four is pulling things into shape? I have some ideas you ought to see..."
He quickly unroleld the parchment and began sketching Umbart's suggestion, along with some minor embellishments of his own, while waiting for a response from the gathered deities.
"Well, it certainly isn't me. You want Sonne- I mean, you want Syreene here. But... I don't think we've met. I'm Itja-Rek. Who are you?"
Harkon abruptly looked around the world. "No good, this man-woman, or is that woman-man? Anyways, it has started changing theworld in a way that is largely incompatible with this. But what if you did this and this." The lord of water washed over the blueprints, erasing some drawings and adding others. For one, a great pillar with these chains was at the center. Even as they looked at the parchment, drawings of mani and sol appeared, floated across the page, and vanished again. In general the plans were a little more adapted to the state of affairs.
Itja spoke and Harkon replied. "Oh surely you remember the oath-child. You joined me in blood, I writhed, and... well, vomited him out. Sorry about that," he said, turning to the godling, "by the way."
My, it seemed that rather than part from their gathering, they had merely moved it to somewhere else! Well, it was an improvement at least... no longer was there conflict, merely conversation. Some new Mothers seemed to be joining in. And everyone was actually suggesting what to do with the world! If it weren't for this growing gathering, the Mother might of made a comment about how Itja-Rek would DEFINITELY regret it seeing the nature of the Queen... but she did not wish to shame him in front of the others, or reduce herself to such petty bickering.
"All fine ideas!" the Mother complimented everyone in general. "I do not... truly comprehend your idea, the One Who Sketches And Has Not Provided Their Name, but I am... simple minded at times. I am the Mother, by the way, and what title may I call you by? As for your chains, the Umbart," the Mother spoke a little louder, as though necessary to pierce down into the heart of the world... which it probably was, she had no idea how it worked! "That might well be a good idea, and I would gladly help solidify the world, if the others agree upon it! There may be problems with it I do not see however!"
"I go by Rampart; it just seems right, somehow. Sorry to interrupt, but this place is a mess and I won't stand for it. You look familiar..."
He glanced at Harkon, here, having heard the story of his genesis.
"That would do it, and don't worry. I have a feeling I've had worse in the past. You'd be surprised the treatment architects get. At any rate, does that make you lot my parents? That's fine, I suppose. Here to serve, and all that."
He turned to regard the Mother. "It's always complicated, thus the blueprints; less so if we plan first. I'm open to suggestions, but the Chains are there and ready to use; seems easiest to work with what we've got. Anything else around I should know about?"
"A pillar of Chains, orthogonal to the permeable disc of waltzing mountains, binding the two halves tighter than by water alone?" She nodded. "I could be persuaded to see the value in that."
Still, deep within, his nature just wouldn't allow him to give in so easily to despair, to abandon himself for sadness. Finally putting the fell thoughts that recent arguements had brought up, a small smirk grew on his face. Approaching the odd veil of water that blotted out the inky blackness beyond, he walked towards it, amusing himself with the oddity nof someone walking from the sky into an ocean.
"They think they can take my creations and use them for their purposes. But they are still mine, and still linked to my power, even though this new realms is rapidly eroding those bonds. There is little time now, I suppose. I must get this done soon, before the opportunity is lost. To the hells with them if they notice, these are my creations and I'll not have others tampering without even a kind word or the pretense of asking!"
Reaching out as a small wave lapped up towards him, the water in a wide area frize as if turned to ice. Emptying his mind of all thoughts, he called forth the image of the island he had pulled from the sea bed. A simple but beatiful island, inhabited by crystalline dragons forged from gemstones. Locking the image in his mind, he called to it, demanding that it bend to his will and come forth from where others had placed it.
The island obeyed his will, appearing deep beneath the waters of the frozen ocean, on the far side, beyond this place. It lie invisible though, hiodden by the veil of water. Maintaining the contact with the water, he unleashed a ball of air, it's concussive force driving back the oceans, leaving a wide and clear hole into the inky darkness beyond. The way clear, he continued out into the void, hardly noticing the fine mist created by the endlessly falling water from the oceans above.
Into the beyond he went, moving past even his island, much further out into the void.Turning back, he gazed upon the fine falling mist from the hole he had punctured, admiring the ways in which the light refracted off of it, sending colors shimmering through the air.
Satisfied that he was far enough, he cleared his mind once more, picturing the blackness behind him, picturing it covered with dirt and stone, concealed from those who might see it. Holding to his thoughts, he reached out, demanding that the continent come, calling it forth with an irresistable summons, absolutely confident that it would obey.
And obey it did, sending ripples anmd quakes seething throughy those lands which had been connected to it, violently tearing itself free as it drifted towards him, orienting just as he needed it to.
Reorienting himself, he landed lightly atop the highest mountain on the continent, looking around. High above him, the floating island stood out as a blotch of darkness on the sky, leaving a shadow here on this mountain where the sun would never touch. To the east, the west, the north, and the south, the falling mist from the oceans above combined with the light of the passing moon and sun to conceal the darkness beyond. Satisfied, he pulled forth a small chair from the stone and sat down to rest before moving on with his work.
Still, there was much still to be done. Perhaps too much to do alone. Silently, he sat there, pondering his options, considering who he could trust.
At the edges of the water veil's hole, some water from the oceans above pours down in an endless waterfall. This being pure fluff, the ocean is in no danger of emptying, or anything. If you want an explanation, a wizard did it :P
Please excuse me, I must start our work.
Umbart bow to the assembled gods and his specter vanished. Back in the Caverns of Davos, Umbart took hold of the Chains of Culthet and pulled. Newton be damned as Umbart pulled the moon began to move. Great chains extended from Umbart and pushed against the void. As they did so Umbart headed towards the fledgling world. Determined not cause destruction, Umbart use the the silver wall of Davo's dream to steer his small world carefully. Umbart approached the Veil or Water and plunged though with a great splash. The land on either side was drenched with massive tidal waves but things quickly returned to normal.
Umbart tugged yanked on the chains of his world and it responded to him much like ship in the hands of master sailor. Past the Waltzing mountains and to a point great balance Umbart tacked. Taking his time to make sure the the position was perfect, Umbart placed world in exact center of of the inverted bowls. Having placed his world, Umbart relaxed the chains and let them fall slack so they could be stretched and pulled by others with ease. His task complete and his energy spent, Umbart sat and contemplated the oath and him self.
I, Umbart, swear upon my blood and the blood of those have sworn before. I swear the I will always be honorable and place the Duty of Divinity first and my own desires second. With this oath I will nurture and create, shepherd and guide. Though violence may have place in making creations strong, I will forsake it for its own sake.
Those who had sworn this oath before could hear Umbart's words in their own blood. They could feel the power of his words. Then Umbart fell back and his blood flowed into the chains and brought life to the surface of Umbart. For now it was small and fragile but it was beginning. Slow rock would become soil as tiny insect and primitive fungi began to do their work.
For a time Umbart lay still, but he quickly recovered and staggered back to his feet. Stepping inot the dream once more Umbart rejoined the summit.
0/9 PP
4 (1 form chains) mold: Move Umbart to the center of the bowls.
1 (1 form Oath) Nourish: Insects and Fungi begin to live on the surface of Umbart.
-1 combat power until sunday
Rubbing his hands excitedly, he began working with the clay, shaping it to his desire.
-----
Bursting from a nearby cloud, a small clay bird wisked up to The Mother, flapping rapidly at the air before her. FOr a long moment, it stared at here, as if confirming who she was before exploding into a cloud of concealing dust.
Rampart glanced up from his sketch and began channeling divine energy, preparing to bring a certain amount of order to the world. The Chains of Culthet rapidly extended towards their intended anchor-ppints, and the Waltzing Mountains begin a more-orderly procession about the moon of Umbart.
"If we do it this way, everything is in a nice, stable place and we get daylight hours suitable to a civilized life. Brilliant, if I do say so myself."
As the Chains began to anchor the two halves of the world formed by Syreene into place, with the now-liberated Floating Continent left out of the connection but still reachable by water, Rampart grinned in self-satisfaction.
"So the mountains do their Waltzing at a tempo that will force the Sun to avoid them every few months. We'll have more daylight while it's trying to make its way around... it'll be just like summer. The rest of the time it'll be able to barrel on through, and we'll get less daylight. Thus, winter. It should work out nicely. With a certain amount of shifting and give in the chains, we can even have the available light differ by timing. It should more or less work out according to expectations."
A rough depiction of the path of Sol during Summer is here. Winter looks more like this. Basically, the more time the sun spends on the interior of the two hemispheres, the more daylight there is. Umbart's moon will be causing daily eclipses which should provide something along the line of siesta time to the people on the interior of Syreene's hemispheres.
I'm pretty sure this costs PP at some point in the process. It's been ruled to be 4, with the Chains contributing one. Rampart is at 4 PP.
"Fiona," she whispered, for the word was so precious she hardly dared to let it pass her lips, "That's my name, Fiona. I picked it out. There were a lot to choose from, but..."
She trailed off, gazing it those eyes. Why did they captivate her so?
"But I liked Fiona," she finished breathlessly.
The silence that followed her words seemed to stretch an eternity. She longed to fill them with a scream, a shout, anything. But she waited. After a moment though, she spoke, softly, quietly.
"I didn't think I was strong enough to show that side of me, so I hid it under mounds and mounds of fabric and pretty sequins," said the Queen, "But now, I don't know, I guess I need to let people know who I am."
She smiled, suddenly, fiercely.
"The Queen is dead, but Fiona is here to stay," she blushed at the intensity of her own voice.
A new spring in her step, she pranced over to the nearest mushroom stalk. She bent over to pluck a flower from the patch of shrubbery surrounding the base. She lifted it to her nose and took a hearty sniff. Then she stopped and turned around, as if suddenly realizing something.
"You know, I've never been a kid," she remarked, her face lighting up, "I think I'll try that next.
She sighed to herself, "Fiona the Kid, I think I like it."
The Mother was about to immerse herself in the conversation, when a strange bird fluttered in from nowhere... and exploded! And then reformed... in the process delivering a message from the Aaviz. Honestly, he really was one for far too flashy affairs... not to mention the fact that he was asking for her help after just walking away from the Itja-Reks apology like that! She had half a mind to just ignore his call!
But... she herself espoused the value of unity. And if she could get the Aaviz to see that Itja-Rek was sincere, and get him to work with the others, even swear his oath... "I am sorry, but it seems I am needed elsewhere," the Mother told the assorted Mothers. "I wish to help with this forging of the world, and the nourishing of all that lives here, so... here," she finished, before hacking and coughing before spitting up an egg out of her mouth. "This egg contains a shard of my power... use it as you see fit, to help make this world a better place for our Children."
With that, she sprouted her wings and flew off after the bird... hopefully this did not prove to be a waste of her time!
((The Mother is giving 2 PP to... no-one in particular, but anyone present can use it before the next reset. I guess she trusts everyone will play nice and use it well.))
[3/9]
Thinking back to his trip to here, he remembered all those people he had seen, scattered and confused, with nothing to guide or assist them. They were alone in a world changing around them, still to young to comprehend or adapt. Shaking his head, he cast out a web of power to gather them to safety until the world was ready for their coming. Finishing at the mother approached, he minimized and shrank all that he had gathered and placed in stasis, dropping them into his hat for safe keeping.
"Hello, Mother. I'm pleased that you were capable or arriving within this place with such alacrity. I'm hoping that you would lend your expertise and experience to these creations of mine," he said, waving towards all the statuettes floating around them. "They share many traits with yourself, so I sought to include you in their creation."
8/9
Harkon tried to thank the Mother for her kindness, but she hurried away so quickly. Turning to the egg she left behind he thought for a moment. Picking it up gently with his mouth he whipped his head around and through it at the moon. It seemed to glow as it sped through the air and instead of smashing against the side of it, the egg seemed to pass through the stone surface like a rock falling into water.
Everything was still for a moment, then cracks appeared in the second moon and it burst open like it was an egg itself. A tangle of living earth was reveal, roots writing in the void. Sensing their purpose, half twisted together and dove towards the Mishwayian continent with those spiral mountains. The roots dug in, passing throughout the continent, and grasping the culthetian archipelagos, pulling them together. The roots flailed where the floating continent had been. Though this Syrenne fellow-woman had already placed them, they had seemed to be hazily formed and people weren't sure what was actually there.
The other half of the earth-roots dove towards the other half of the world, falling upon the hive that was in the center, but not damaging it. The roots worked around it, like a tree might work around a rock. Deep into the hive-lake they delved, and then turned and dug into the Shallows, drawing it close around the hive. The roots also grasped Caltabactos' lands and pulled them together with the rest. Again, these had already been placed, but had seemed ill-defined.
Still surging with power, the earth-roots began to grow thick. It was as if two living mountains had arising from each half of the world and in the center.
From that center, however, the chains of Culthet lashed out, plunging into the lands of the world like a starburst. The divine power that kept the waltzing mountains afloat also caused them to not crash into these chains.
All along these chains, and the living mountain, matter was always pulled down. This allowed mortal creatures from one half of the world to climb the spire or chains and walk towards the other half of the world.
With a mental tug, Harkon set Mani and Sol to effortlessly navigate the chains and mountains, circling the world spire, then continuing along their path.
Absent mindedly, the lord of water's looked down at Rampart's plans for the seasons and was puzzled. "Why would the sun and the moon cause these seasons that you speak of? Why not just command it, so it will be?"
Mathius, since you are just moving the 2nd moon, I think that is actually a free action. Even if it isn't, I think Toph said that it was only 1PP to move land. Also, I am not sure if one use a global artifacts power the same turn it was created; I think it has to charge first.
Itja-Rek looked at the Godspire and smiled. "An excellent addition, Harkon, and one which ensures that Umbart and Davos' caverns will not be forgotten. This spire will promote contact between the two sides, but... it will be slow, will it not? And it will be by necessity done by those who can survive the dry environment of the Spire. Let us make a way for those of the waters to travel between Top and Bottom, as well as for those brave enough among the land-lovers.
Speeding off to the Godspire, he first came to the hive. Here, he grabbed hold of water and the very gravity of this half of the world, and pulled, drilling a spiral path up and around the spire not too far below the surface. As he went, the water he drew with him fell behind, washing away the debris of his efforts. Itja-Rek spent a moment making sure that the tunnel he was boring through the Spire was large enough to allow both water and air to flow through, not as a turbulent mixture, but as air above and a swiftly flowing stream of water below. Soon, he reached the halfway mark, and felt around him the gravity of the world switch. Undaunted, he grabbed more firmly onto the gravity from the other half of the world and kept pulling it until he reached the other side. Here, he twisted the gravity he had taken, turning it such that the change from the gravity of the Bottom to the gravity of the Top was gradual. He then burst out of the spire, only to realize that something was not right. There was no lake here!
Muttering to himself about the dangers of leaping before looking, he flew about, sculpting a shallow bowl around the back half of the Godspire and filling it with water. The water began to flow into the hole made for it by the god, and Itja-Rek could sense it twisting in the foreign gravity to begin its daredevil ride down towards Bottom. Satisfied, the god moved from the east side of the pillar to the west, and began forming another tunnel on the far end of the lake, grabbing hold of water and gravity as he did. He repeated the process, spiraling through the Godspire until he reached the Hive once more, forming another opening there and twisting the flow of gravity such that water flowed into the opening in The hive and down towards the Top. He then swam through his creation until he reached the core, and dug two small passageways around the Caverns of Davos to connect the two arms of the double helix. VERY brave adventurers could use these to explore the caverns themselves... if they could muster up the nerve, and the timing, to move into the side passages when the time was right.
Satisfied, Itja-Rek returned to the other gods.
"There. Much better. I do love a good challenge."
2 PP: Mold Land: The Spire Slides. Two pools of water connected by a double helix of tunnels through the Godspire. One helix flows from Top to Bottom, the other from Bottom to Top in a quickly flowing river. Brave adventurers (or even just brave ships) might be able to travel this to quickly travel from one side of the planet to the other.
2/9 + 1 (arbitration) PP.
The Mother looked at the Aaviz levelly... there was no apology here, no remorse for walking off without a word. No acceptance of the Itja-Reks remorse for falsely accusing him. And no indication he wanted anything to do with anything the other Mothers wished.
However... the Mother was a sucker for community projects. The joy of helping breather life into something someone else had conceived, the pleasure of others doing the same for her... how could she refuse?
"These things seem to have slightly more in common with the Davos than myself I must admit," the Mother noted, looking at the worm figurines he had made. "But none the less, I am happy to lend my assistance to any who ask for it... however," she went on. "Though I offer my help with no strings attached, I must ask you something on another matter... the Itja-Rek is truly sorry for all the insults he slung at you in his anger, and all the things he did to you. Yet you walked away from the apology... can you find it in yourself to forgive him despite it all? Or at least ensure that your bitterness towards him will not effect your judgement when working with the other Mothers and even he himself in trying to make the world a better place for our Children?"
"Perhaps when he can do so without so obviously not wanting too, I'll consider it. Until then, I request that you do not mention him."
Casting out his hand, he began filling the statuettes with power. "If you would?"
"Your basic seasons come about because of differences in daylight exposure as the various parts of a world move around each other. We give them more sun, it's summer. Less sun, it's winter. There's an anticipated regularity of climate and seasons. It won't have much effect on any of us, I suspect, but all those entities down there on the ground might appreciate it. They're going to have to understand and explain their world to live in it, or they just winding up hiding in caves pounding on each other with rocks."
"Either way, this looks like it'll all hold together for the moment, at least. That's good. I'm told you lot arrived here from worlds at the end of their lifetimes; the lifetime of a world is determined - in part anyway - by how well it runs to begin with. Wouldn't want to see you evicted yet again."
"You think the seasons exist at the whims of light? You may call your periods of heightened daylight whatever you wish, but I name you fool if you would seek to cow the seasons into agreeing with you. The seasons have their own champions."
Syreene jabbed a thumb at her breast. "And believe you me, I know seasons." She bowed, briefly. "Lady Syreene, at your service. Maiden of Spring, and known to some as the Feymother."
The Mother looked closer at the creatures... hmmm, they DID indeed have an exoskeleton. It was strange to imagine such armor on a creature that only had legs when it was threatened, but perhaps strange was the new course of things now that so much had happened...
"Very well," the Mother replied, not at all happy with his attitude towards the Itja-Rek. "But do not let his attitude, or what you perceive it to be, sour you to the rest of us, old and new. As for your creations, I'd be happy to provide my power for such a cause."
The Mother began hacking, and coughing... before stopping in thought. Hm... would the Aaviz have an ulterior motive creating these things? Surely not, he was beginning to get paranoid! The Mothers could get along, but only if they actually trusted eachother! Continuing to hack and gag, the Mother eventually committed up a somewhat green transparent liquid that emptied out in a torrent, before seeming to be drawn to the figures, as though sucked into some invisible, gravity defying drainpipe.
"There, I have imbued them all with some of my power," she told him. "Bring your creations to life... I confess your explanation has left me curious to see them."
1PP Given to Aaviz
Umbart looked out on this new world and smile wistful for he longed to look at it with his own eyes. Having been trapped underground and away from thing he was surprised to hear the sudden sound of running water. Finding a shallow pool Umbart disrobed and entered the water. Slow and with great care Umbart cleansed himself of dirt and grime.
When he was finished he emerged from the water and dried himself with care. Then he stepped back into the dream once more. His spectral Image appeared before Harken once more.
Though it pains me to show weakness, it is greater weakness to not ask for help. I removed my heart and replaced it with the Heart of Culthet before that plane died. As the Chains begin and end at the heart, my heart, I am forced to remain in the center of things. I ask that you help me escape a prison of my own making so that I may look on this world with my own eyes.
On another note, I think we should form a formal alliance among those of us who worked hard too build this world. As we built we should be the ones who govern and protect it. Let us form the Council of Unifica. Unifica is what we should call our world.
With the ending of his speech, Umbart looked on at the assembled gods and waited expectantly.
Closing his eyes, he nodded. "It is done. The creatures have been given life, and scattered among the stones and earth of the world above. Thank you for your help, Mother. I am only soured against the one who declared me a traitor on supposition and paranoia rather than looking at facts." Offering a small smile for the first time since coming here, he looked at her softly. "Had I an issue with all of you, after all, would I have asked you for help?"
Looking confused, he frowned. "Well, I forgot to decide a name for them. Any ideas? I'm partial to asyati, myself. It's a word in a language from my home, meaning devour."
6/9
"What in the name of wind...?"
Draekan looked up towards Schi'vya. "What is it, mas...ter...?" He dropped his teacup and it shattered all over the ground below his seat. He was utterly shocked by the sudden shift in the surrounding area as well.
Itja-Rek made a face.
"Seems... I don't know... just..."
"Syreene." Itja-Rek said, quite obviously changing the subject. "If you wish to remain Syreene always... why strive for these 'Seasons' at all? Think about it." The god said as he sped off, following The Mother. He was curious as to where the other god had gone, but had decided to give her a bit of a head start so it didn't look like he was too interested in where she was going. Soon, he came to a strange hole in the veil and passed through it.
Reaching in one final time, he frowned deeper. "What the hell is this? Feels sort of hard, but definitly not metal." Levitating his hat, he reached in with both hands, tugging and jerking and straining away, slowly drawing forth what looked like a teeth filled vicious snout. With one final mighty tug, he jerked, freeing whatever had been stuck within.
Shaking himself off, he replaced his hat, adjusting it carefully. "What were you doing in there? ANd why do you seem familiar?"
"Unifa? Sounds like a type of fish. Anyway Syreene, I love what you've done with the place, quite unique. Could use some more green, though..."
His hands glowed with violet energy, and he lifted them up in the air. There was a golden flash, and the uppermost hemisphere glowed for a slight second. Vegetation spread outward from the Triskelion, forming thick undergrowth. Exotic trees rapidly sprouted out from the ground, with thick leaves extending from the narrow trunks in a spiral pattern. Short, spikey plants are spread across the ground, with bright orange fruits offering nourishment to the various creatures within.
A curious dobbit poked her head of out a burrow in the ground. She sniffed her tiny little nose at the alien plants, curious to see if they were edible. They were! While she was happily munching on he new treat, she failed to notice a vine creeping up on her. It quickly wrapped around its prey, and the poor little dobbit squeled in fright. These screams of terror were quickly stiffled when the dobbit was launched into a green and toothy mouth.
The planty maw smiled. That was a good meal.
2 PP - nourish land - the area around the Triskelion has plenty of vegetation as described above.
2 PP - spawn creature - Poisonous Creepers. Think of a venus fly trap with vines for a body and limbs. It produces a potent poison in its mouth, which kills its prey instantly while it feasts.
Absalom strolled through the forest of Mushrooms, gazing leisurely at the fresh bloomed stalks and the ever shifting forms of the newly created Mush as they interacted with the Mish. A smile came to his face for a moment; the Mush would know much suffering in the future because of their transience of identity, but for now let them know happiness.
In general, the golden figure seemed to meander towards the north east, to where the borders of the mushroom kingdom would intersect with that of the Triskellion’s foothills and the newly created open planes. The God would pause occasionally, normally to look to the sky at the rapid changes that were taking place, as form was given to this world or as one of the Waltzing Mountains would pass particularly close by. “Our kin seem to be rather busy….”muttered the God.
Obviously addressing the Queen, though he did not turn back when he spoke to her, but instead continued to walk, as two companions strolling through the world. “Fiona? A beautiful name, regal in its simplicity.”
“As for being a kid, you do not have to be one at some future date, for you already are one. We all are. These mortals age so fast, and in such a small time learn so many lessons, create so much meaning, but we Gods live for so long. If a mortal’s life and growth is the rapid flow of water in a river, the Deities shift like tectonic plates, slow and often violently. “
Coming to the edge of the Mushroom forest, where the foothills of the Triskellion stretched to the north east and the forest bordering to the south west, Absalom lifted his golden arms and drew forth divine energy. The small white crumpled ball at his side wiggled on its rope and one of the massive chains that now seemed to radiate through the earth like a spiders web surfaced from the strata.
Then, without saying a word, the God of Beauty pulled forth the roots of the earth and created a vast series of staggeringly tall mountains of cyclopean proportions. Grey and foreboding near their peaks, with glaciers and snow the full year round, the mountain chain arced gradually around in a crescent shape, with the tallest mountains being the farthest away from the Triskellion and the Mushroom kingdom.
Using yet more of his power, Absalom caused the space between the Triskellion, Mushroom Forest, and grey foreboding Mountains to sink down into a depression, forming a great valley. Then, a lake was created near the northeastern rim of the mountain country. It would be fed year long by the melting of the glaciers and the rains that would come to this land, and to accompany the lake Absalom carved a vast bed through which a mighty river would flow, creating a natural border for the valley on its southern end with the Triskellion and Mushroom Forest as it had the Mountains towards the North.
“This shall be my new canvas,” spoke Absalom.
2pp Mold Land (1 from Masquerade 1 from Chains)- Create a Massive Mountain chain similar in stature to the Himalayas in a crescent shape
1pp Mold Land- Cause a depression in the land, a massive valley between the mountains to the north and west and the Mushroom kingdom and Triskellion to the South and East.
1pp Mold Land- A large lake is formed at the base of the Northeastern edge of the mountain chain (where they are tallest) that is fed year rounds by the rains and melting snow.
1pp Mold Land- Absalom causes a river to flow from the Northeastern lake along the southern borders of the valley next to the Triskellion and the Mushroom forest.
I will name all of these things eventually.
Seeing the other being with Aaviz, he realised he hasn't introduced himself yet. "I apologise, I am Astriluxus, guardian dragon and protector of that which lives. And I do believe I met this old codger a long time ago before I went to sleep. Always wondered where you went off too." Noticing another being approching, " I do believe we have company."
Itja-Rek approached the meeting ahead with a little bit of trepidation. Had he know that Aaviz was who was trying to get ahold of The Mother, he may not have followed. He owed the other god something of an apology, but... the god of souls was proud, made up of thousands of adventurers and thieves, what else could he be? Steeling himself, he made his final approach.
"Ah... Aaviz. Um... listen. We need to..." Itja-Rek began, cutting off when it was clear the other god had gone into one of his little self-absorbed spells and was rooting around in his hat. The god of Tombs barely batted an eye when a large dragon came out. That hat seemed to be very... special.
Happy for a distraction, Itja-Rek instead turned to the newcomer once he got close enough.
"Hello... you smell of godhood. I am Itja-Rek. Who are you?"
Draekan obeyed, and he got on to the Thunderhawk. The hawk gave a mighty screech, and Schi'vya took off with a friendly "Tootaloo!" She broke through the water, leaving a slight trail of air for Draekan to fly through safely without getting wet. She burst out of the bubble, and headed out towards the temporal disturbance, which was the location of where this new soul emerged. Dreakan followed close behind.
"Got a few years? Its a very, very, very long story... and we don't even know what to call this place yet."
Okay. Time to get this over with.
"Aaviz? Can we... talk?"
"I... Well... Certain things have come to my attention and... well... I'm afraid I was completely wrong about many of the things I accused you of, particularly regarding Concordia, who, as I learned, was created after you were drawn into Culthet. I... do not know if things can ever be... cordial between us, but... I apologize for those things I said."
Shrugging, he continued. "As chaos swirled around their nation, the fates eventually threw them together again, as a foe too strong for either of them threatened to destroy everything they held dear. Do you know what happened to those two? They both came to a realization as the fought side by side. Both sides were simply blaming the other, neither realizing that there was no good side or bad side, just two sides holding different views."
His eyes glinted slightly. "The only man who never makes mistakes is the man who never does anything. I accept your apology."
Lowering his eyes, he frowned. "Once, long ago, I closed my eyes and time passed me by. Have I ever told you what happened to my home, friend?"
"No. What happened?"
"Until the day of awakening. We didn't know it then, and I only uncovered the truth millenia later. Our world was not a true world, but rather, it had been constructed by other lords to contain and imprison many of the most dangerous beasts from within the beyond. But they made a mistake in building their prison, and we were brought to life within it without the ever knowing. Our efforts to create, to mold, to expand, it fed energy to the beasts within, letting them grow in strength until they could escape their prison. They arose, and began consuming all within their path, feeding their neverending hunger."
"Our children were dying, fighting and dying against something wer couldn't understand. My kin, family, friends, and even enemies, banded together and marched to battle along side them. They asked me to help, begged me to help, but I could not. I was afraid, and I cowered in that fear."
"In the end, my kin, I think, knew they were doomed. But where others would surrender to despair, they fought back with even greater strength. They made the beasts fight for every inch of space. In my long life I have never seen anything like it. They would weep. They would pray. They would say goodbye to their loved ones, and then throw themselves without fear or hesitation at the very face of death itself, never surrendering. No one who saw them fight against the inevitable could help but be moved to tears by their courage... their stubborn nobility. When they ran out of magic, they wielded blades. When they ran out of blades, they used stones and sticks and bare hands. They were magnificent. I only hope that when it is my time, I die with half as much dignity as I saw in their eyes in the end. They did this for two years. But in the end, they didn’t run out of courage, they ran out of time."
"The beasts very presences shattered the fabric of the world, and in the course of the final battle, it collapsed inwards on itself, vanishing. Seperate from the fight, too fearful to help, I stood and watched as my life was destroyed."
"That day, I learned many things. Victory needs no explanation. Defeat allows none. I must not fear. Fear is the little death that can bring only obliteration. There is no greater hell than to be the prisoner of fear. But above all these things, I learned that a world is a sacred thing, to be preserved and kept alive at all costs, even if the cost is surrendering it to your enemies."
His eyes narrowed. "And that is why, I would never aid or particiapte in the destruction of a world."
As they appeared before the small assembly of gods, Schi'vya provided a little buffer zone of wind to halt the Thunderhawks potential speed and threw it into a halt. "Actually, why don't I get on this thing with you, Draekan?"
"Yes, Master!" Draekan scooted back, and Schi'vya sat herself on top of the beast. She felt the beast,s breaths, as it inhaled and exhaled with no trouble. She felt life-- flowing through it. She directed the beast moreso towards the small group. "HOO-AHH!"
Draekan held out a closed fist and shouted. "Ahoy there, fellows!"
The thunderhawk gave a loud testament of sound as it came to a halt in the middle of the emptiness. Schi'vya looked about, and noticed the dragon-like being hovering about behind Aaviz. She gazed in slight horror, but didn't show it. "I see you all look pretty confident with yourselves. I've had to ditch a friend's tea party because he was enjoying his tea more than he did talking. Well, I don't believe we've all met. My name is Schi'vya-- Lord of the Four Winds, and the patron of Balance."
"And I am Draekan, humble assistant and bodyguard to my master." Draekan held out and open hand to offer his regards.
Looks to the newcomer, "I see there are many more around, and that we have more company." Completely ignoring the bodyguard and addressing the wind lord, " I am Astriluxus. Guardian dragon."
The Mother was happy the Itja-Rek and the Aaviz seemed to be getting along again... not that they ever got along well in the first place! But she was glad they were getting along a lot better than they had been in any case! Though she had to wonder if everywhere she went, there was bound to be a meeting of Mothers? It seemed she attracted new Mothers and old like flies were attracted to a mouth watering pile of manure... mmm, she was getting hungry again.
Idly snagging up one of the new... what had Aaviz called them? They were a fine name, but she thought she might merely call them Dune Worms for simplicities sake... the Mother ate it quietly as she watched the others conversing... oh the poor Aaviz, she had never imagined he had such a tragic past. She couldn't imagine all her Children dieing so... though it begged the question what he was doing here if he came from elsewhere. Then again, had they not all came from elsewhere? The Mishway from Mishway, the Culthet from Culthet, the Aaviz from Elsewhere, the Itja-Rek from Beyond, and she... well where HAD she come from? Had she simply willed herself to hatch? Or had someone lain her? It was... a disturbing thought for a Mother to have, question the nature of their existence.
"Greetings new ones, and old," the Mother spoke finally... that Dune Worm had taken a while to swallow, and it was rude to talk with ones mouth full! "For those who do not know, I am the Mother... the Aaviz, I thank you for letting me create these a... Dune Worms, and Itja-Rek, I am thankful you see the error of your hasty judgement," she said conversationally. Thinking for a moment, she continued. "The Aaviz, would you consider me intrusive if I stayed upon this continent for a time and made things upon it? It seems... empty, compared to the Hive and other places. Besides which, I admit that I have a personal goal to make Children anywhere and everywhere, and here is as good a place to start as any!"
Harkon thought for a moment, pondered the words, then asked Syreene as question. "If there is no spring yet, then who calls you the Maiden of it?"
To the new godman who approached, Harkon nodded and introduced himself before commenting, "Nice plants there, if I do say so myself, and I do. They remind me of something I made once... well, accidentally. Long story short, I approve of mouths, and thus, those plant mouth thingies of yours."
Umbart then spoke his dilemma. "Why don't you just leave your heart behind, then, oath-brother? You can get by without it, you know. Look!" With that Harkon disgorged his eyes and mouth. They fell towards the land below (or was it above? Up here it was hard to tell), the mouth calling back at them, "I can still see you all, and you can still hear me, even though my organs aren't in my body. So leave your heart, join us!"
And with that the eyes and mouth fell out of sight.
~~~~
A Poisonous Creeper tugged on a Mouther, attempting to bring its fleshy goodness fully into its mouth so that it could have a chomp. The mouther, in turn, tugged on a bit of the poisonous creeper, attempting to bring its planty goodness fully into its own mouth so that it could have a lovely nomph.
Itja-Rek sneered at Draekan, making it fairly obvious that he found the mortal to be both presumptive and far beneath his regard, and instead spoke to the god, secretly glad that there was a reason to change the subject.
"I remember you. We met very briefly before, right after I emerged from Culthet. Which four winds are you the lord of? Why not all of them?"
~Near the Golden Forest~
The Reaper crouched behind some bushes, watching as the Illithids moved about in their small village. She would wait until nightfall, then creep in and slit several throats, bash in several heads, etc. Not only was it an incredibly effective way of collecting souls, she was finding it a useful tactic for getting things to move where you wanted them to. Her basket was nearly full, soon she could return to her master... wherever he was at the moment, to get another hit of the bliss that she knew was waiting for release. If she could guide these mindflayers into the territory of another race... there should be more souls for the taking...
The night came and she went to work, sneaking into individual huts and killing a few mindflayers. She had been doing so at various villages for quite some time now, and was slowly driving the mindflayers from their villages and towards the forest, where she made sure NOT to kill anyone, making that area seem safe.
The next morning, it was clear that this village, too, had had enough. The people began disassembling their huts, and soon the village was on the move, heading towards the safety of the Golden Forest.
1 PP (from the Reaper): Guide Populace: Groups of Mindflayers move into the Golden Forest.
"It is good to meet you, Astriluxus," she bowed towards the dragon god. She turned back towards Itja-Rek. "Are you, by chance, the Itja-Rek? I do remember someone saying your name. I had this crown hit me twice, and I think it may have had some sort of infernal hatred toward wind gods... particularly 'young' wind gods, like me..." She rubbed the back of her head, which showed no apparent bruise, but the divine pain could still be felt. "I think someone said that it belonged to you."
He glanced over at Aaviz, knowing the other god would know what he was talking about even if the others did not. "Thank you again." he said to the wizard.
Schi'vya glanced over towards the wizard, who had random junk floating around him. "And what is your name, O'mighty wizard? And why do you have so much stuff floating around you?" She noticed the kitchen sink floating right beside a bottle of some soapy substance in a clear glass-like bottle.
Blinking for a moment, he shrugged "I'm sorry, were you saying something? I was preoccupied deciding how to deal with that one. He didn't belong here."
Frowning, he looked at the one who had brought these annoyances. "And what makes you think I'm a wizard."
Remembering something else, he gave the mother a simple answer to here question. "Yes, feel free."
"And 'why', you ask? Well, because you make my bodyguard and his bird disappear, which wizards excel in Illusions, you have all of this random junk around you, which I have absolutely no idea about, which is another plus about wizards, and finally your sense of power over these sort of things. I've seen some people do some pretty insane things during my time of... wait... during my time of living in...?" She trailed off. She had suddenly forgotten about her life as a Mortal being. Were these visions that she was have pieces of her past life?
~The Dream (or Vision)~
A lone child stood in the middle of the forest, where these machines were floating down towards. The wind blew and whipped her hair around, and her balloon that she was carrying was given the same torment. She had a dress that stretched down to her knees, and she was carrying a teddy bear on one hand: a balloon in the other.
When the machines had landed, strange figures exited them and started to run over towards the child. In the distance, were loud sounds, sort of like a series of booms and rattling. The voices around her seemed blurred. The child stood motionless. Schi'vya sought to tell the child to do something, but the child never moved. The people around her shook the girl to wake her up, but she only had that lonesome stare. A small tug was felt on Schi'vya, as she watched this child stare in a gaze of eternity. Then suddenly and without warning, she came to the realization: 'I am the child.'
In a flash, she entered the child's mind. The almost black and white world seemed to come into color, and the girl shifted her eyes. The girl opened her mouth and a few words came out. "I want my mommy." The girls started crying, and the men around her carried her to one of the transprorts. She was placed on a seat next to a few other refugees escaping the warzone. One of the officials came to her and kneeled down to her. "It's alright. We're gonna get you home." He rubbed the side of her cheek and walked on to tend to the others. She still held on to the dirty teddy bear, and looked out the window. The landscape was bare and clouds of smoke rose from the ground as various bombshells flew from the sky. It was a war nobody dreamed of... a war that shook the world around them, A thrid World War.
~Floating Continent~
Divine tears started trickling down from her eyes, as she suddenly realised her own mortal life. Her smile quickly turned to a frown of sadness and remorse.
Adjusting his hat, he frowned. "What do you want?"
She flew to one of the far ends of the Triskelion, hiding herself behind one of the mushrooms. She sobbed hard and divine tears trickled down her form onto the ground. She held herself close. A mush poked its head out from behind the mushroom and examined the sobbing god. The mush smirked and ran back towards the Queen and Absalom.
"I grow tired of this constant bickering. You have shown me your home. Now that my tomb is above the waves, perhaps I could return the favor. Come find me when you finish here."
After moving to the side of the brewing argument between the two gods, Itja-Rek floated upwards, through the gap in the Veil and made his way downwards towards the Pillar and his home.
Entering the tunnel in the side of Wenet, he floated into the center of his tomb. How dismally, well... uninviting. All that was left was this central chamber, with the rest of the tomb crushed beyond recognition, flattened.
It would not do, especially not for having guests! Itja-Rek let a flow of power escape from him and sweep into the walls of the tomb. Immediately, the walls rumbled and began to move, shoving dirt out of the way as they reassembled themselves into the king's royal tomb... with a few additions. Bright paint sprung up on dusty walls and pictures of sapient creatures of all kinds appeared on the walls of the main entryway, all walking towards the entry chamber. Itja-Rek gestured, and the tomb was expanded, now two, now four, now eight levels in depth, with the chamber of the King situated at the center, easily fifty feet in height, although only accessible from the bottom level. All throughout the Tomb, traps were resetting, restored from the memories of those who had died in each one. The bright paint moved in from the opening rooms, covering the rest of the sandstone walls with pictures of the dead, becoming more and more indistinct in form as they progressed. Finally, Itja-Rek gestured to the walls of this central chamber, and columns of black obsidian, carved in inticrate patterns, pushed themselves from the walls, forming a colonnade leading from the only door to the center of the chamber. Here, he placed a large raised dais, and behind it a false wall. He'd deal with what went behind that wall later. Pointing again to the dais, an obsidian throne emerged from the floor.
The paint flowed through the door, filling the room with its reds and blues. By now the painted supplicants looked nearly entirely like the indistinct essences that were souls, and the paint showed them flowing up the walls towards a particular point in the ceiling just above the throne. Itja-Rek pointed once more and a great chandelier emerged, descending to hover fifteen feet or so above his throne. All along its metal length were painted globes that approximated souls, descending in a clockwise spiral around the chandelier's main post. From the obsidian base of the chandelier, twenty four globes painted as souls dangled, each glowing with a flickering light.
"Thats better." Itja-Rek said, looking around and making a few tweaks to the strength of the walls of the inner chamber. He also reached out beyond his tomb, and recalling the feeling he had felt as he had come to this place from Culthet, twisted the fabric of reality to seal off the entire tomb from anyone and anything unless they came through the entry tunnel. Just beyond the entry chamber, he placed a massive door of the strongest stuff he could think up, weaving powerful wards into the door to keep both mortals and gods out if it was closed and locked. Seeing that he was expecting a guest, he left it open for the moment.
Finally, he passed behind the false wall, installing a secret door near to his throne. Behind it, he created great scaffoldings and display cases that lined the walls of this back half of his central Tomb. They were empty now... but soon he would begin to fill them.
Finally satisfied, he returned to his throne and sat.
2 PP: Create Plane: The Tomb of Itja-Rek. Its in Wenet, which is the mountain that is now to the southwest of the Pillar of Creation.
Poliphas snapped out of his daydream of a nice simple planet covered half in land and half in water. He vaguely remembered hearing a visitor from the place of origin. Apparently she had brought a guest with her, but her guest was as responsive as he had been. Poliphas sighed. Apparently he had much to learn in the art of hosting a party.
Poliphas then looked at the sky. The other gods had been working while he had been dreaming and the results were nothing like he had imagined. Chains and roots radiating from a central node binding several locations together including the large familiar hill. Poliphas concentrated and the landmass the Pillar was attached to started floating towards the edge of the Triskelion. Poliphas turned to the sleeping god at the table.
"Things are going to get a little bumpy. You might want to hold on to something".
With a massive shudder, the two land masses merged seamlessly. Chains from the Waltzing Mountains wove themselves to the other side of the continent. Poliphas sighed with relief. The process wasn't as bad as he had imagined. Everything appeared to be perfect, until he realized he had moved his continent into the path of the objects that provided light to this world. Poliphas raised his arms and the edge of the continent blocking the sun folded up forming a large mountain range. Now it would easily pass through.
Poliphas looked at the lush vegetation covering the Triskelion and compared it to the bare land around his pillar. He caused the forests to creep over the line to start covering the land. Once a third of the land had been covered, Poliphas changed the vegetation into grasslands. The grasslands continued until the foothills of the mountains. Poliphas then channeled his energy into creating a river that collected the water that came from the mountains down to a lake that surrounded the pillar. He then drained this lake with two seperate rivers that fell off the edges of the continent.
Poliphas looked around at the scattered dishes caused by the movement of the Pillar. He sighed, knowing that it wouldn't be worth the effort to reset the place settings. Poliphas waved his hand briefly and the table and all the dishes vanished back into the aether. Poliphas was about to leave his Pillar when Ruudite appeared and saluted Poliphas.
"Mission accomplished, Commisioner. My charge has made it through the rift safely."
"Where is he? I didn't see him floating in the mess that came through."
"Oh, well I took it upon myself to create a safe place. I'll take you there."
Ruudite took Poliphas' arm and the two seemed to twist in space. After a moment, the two ended up in a workshop similar to the one he had left Ruudite in. Poliphas looked around in appreciation. Then a look of confusion crossed the god's face.
"Looks nice, but where is the god?"
"Over here."
Ruudite led Poliphas over to a walled off section approximately twenty feet by twenty feet with a closed door in one wall. Ruudite opened the door and the two stepped into a cavernous expanse containing the Garden of Final Respite, Djaf resting face up in the middle of the Garden.
"Bigger on the inside than the outside. Nice touch."
Poliphas and Ruudite exited and closed the door. Poliphas thanked Ruudite for showing him around then flipped himself back to his Pillar. Poliphas then peered around the world. Seeing a large concentration of divine auras, Poliphas flew himself to the meeting and nodded to Syreene.
"Hello once again, Syreene. And to those I haven't met yet, my name is Poliphas. Do you mind if I listen in for a while? I don't want to interrupt much longer."
- 2PP Mold Land: Poliphas raises a large mountain range to allow the sun to pass from one side of the veil to the other.
- 2PP Nourish Land: Poliphas covers his continent with vegetation and rivers.
- 2PP Create Plane: (1PP from Ruudite) Ruudite makes Poliphas a Workshop to allow the God of Creation a place to work in peace. Djaf's creations are saved in a guest room.
Looks up to see the floating islands above him, "Well if I'm going to be here, I might as well look around and see whats here. Might make myself at home as well." Unfolds his wings, and dips his head at the mother "It was a pleasure to meet you, but if you would excuse me. I'll catch up to you later Aaviz." And with that he lifts off towards the largest part of the floating island above Aaviz's continent.
Upon landing on the edge of the island he takes his time to look around. "Fairly bleak up here I might say. Looks like you tried making something grand, but got a little tossed around. I wonder what happened?" Sees the mountains and some vegitation and finally spots a few gem dragons flying about. "I see you have been busy you old codger!"
He lifts off once more, and flies above the island. He then starts to breathe his fire all along the land, where it hits forests and vegitation starts to grow. After he covers a good portion of the island with new life, he lands in the middle. "Much better!"
He then flies to the largest peak on the island. I will need keepers for this place for when I am away. He takes some scales off of his body and holds them in his claw. He breathes into it and scatters them onto the ground. Swiftly they begin to change. Bodies begin to form, heads emerge, and they start to take shape into a smaller likeness of him. "My brood has begun. Protect this land little ones, for it is your to protect. There are others creatures here, give them the respect they deserve and watch over them. You are the first, but not the last." With that he takes off and leaves the fledgling metallic dragons to start their new life, and takes off to view the land from above.
Much better. I wonder what the others are upto now? And I wonder if they had gone and joined that Itja-Rek fellow? He seemed a little short-tempered though
1 PP - Nourish land: create vegitation on shadows floating island
3 PP - Shape Populace: Create Metallic Dragon Race.
3PP remaning
Edit: to expand from silver to all of the metallic dragon races. Permission given by Toph.
Harken, well a heart my not be needed for you, it is for me. I was once a mortal who clawed way up to godhood. As such I still need my body, at least for psychological reasons. I am not sure what happened to my own heart when I ripped from my chest.
On another note, the world is shaping up nicely, soon I think I will make a home for us. Just as soon as free myself.
The chain connecting to Umbart's image suddenly jerked, just a little jerk. The ugly god's face grew dismayed, then he turned and jerked the chains. After much effort Umbart pulled a Dune worm before him as it dangled from a chain that it was munching on.
Looks like we have little problem here, these little buggers are nibbling on my chains.
Poking the dune worm, incidentally killing it.
Ahh well, who made you?
When the worm did not answer, Umbart tossed it back in to the ether.
"I feel as though it's important to get the whole experience," remarked Fiona, and suddenly it was a young girl, complete with bouncing blonder curls and a simple little dress, skipping alongside him.
But then she fell silent as the other one worked. She simply watched in awe as a great sweeping mountain range rose up like the raging sea and froze, hanging above them like the spine of some monstrous beast. Sure she had done dramatic acts herself in the past, but to see it from this perspective, to feel the very earth beneath her feet shake and tremble to compensate for the work being done. It was incredible to say the least.
"If this is your canvas," she began, somewhat breathlessly, "Then what shall be your paint?"
Absalom smiled at Fiona, now a little girl, seeming so much lighter. Not in corporal form that was, for while it might be true that she was now literally lighter, it was in the way that she carried herself that mattered. A great weight seemed to have been removed from her shoulders, a massive crushing burden not unlike the one he faced in far away in the vast emptiness of space....
"Well, it is your prerogative to appear as you so choose" spoke the God of Beauty with a golden smile. "As for your question, perhaps 'my' canvas was not the right thing to say. Rather, it will be the canvas for a new race, new mortals, a canvas for my people."
Reaching down with one of his arms, Absalom grasped the massive bound tomb that was the Codex and lifted it in front of him. Opening it to a page about a third of the way in, one covered in strange archaic symbols and non-euclidian mathematical equations, Absalom began to mumble something as the pages characters took on an eerie light. Before the gathered deities, the valley between the lake, river, and mountains began to spring to life. Green grass spread throughout the entire depression, and scattered forests of tall sturdy oak trees stretched towards the sky. "I am merely laying the groundwork for them."
Just then a bushy mish, no wait, it was a Mush assuming the form of its cousin race, came streaking out of the Mushroom Forest behind the Gods. The mortal fell at his feet and recounted a long series of honorifics by which he addressed the Deities before conveying that it had come upon a strange, seemingly divine being weeping in the forest.
Frowning for a moment and casting his gaze deep into the Mushrooms, Absalom could just make out the shape of the visitor this Mush described. Turning to the Queen, nay, to Fiona, Absalom said "Though if you insist on acting like a child I must insist on treating you as one, to a degree."
As he said this the God of Beauty reached out with his two golden arms and snatched up the other God. Lifting her high into the air and swinging her about with a laugh, Absalom placed her upon his shoulders behind his head. "Now let us see what we find," said the God as his four elongated arachnid legs began to carry the deities through the forest to their weeping kin.
2pp (one from codex) Nourish Land- Absalom nourishes the valley between the mountains and the river, causing grass to bloom all along it and several midsized forests of oak trees to spring to life.
Fiona gave a clear, joyful laugh before leaning down to whisper in the other one's ear, "You know, I was trying to set up a dramatic moment where you loudly proclaim that 'Life shall be your paint' or something."
She straightened up and giggled again before becoming pensive, almost stern. She raised an eyebrow and contemplated the back of the other one's head.
"And if you insist on acting like an adult I must insist on treating you as one," she pointed out sagely, before succumbing to another bout of joyous giggles.
It felt so freeing to be like this! The random urges to laugh at the world were suddenly acceptable, the want to treat the world as one big joke not only all right but expected. She loved that she could sit upon the shoulders of another being and yet still maintain both her own dignity and the dignity of the other. She loved to finally truly feel the wind on the backs of her arms, on her exposed neck and through her dancing hair. It was as if all the expectations of the world were stripped away and she could just be happy.
"You know," said Fiona, "I don't think you've ever told me your name."
The very thought of being so rude as to not ask for someone's name would have filled the grown up Queen with shame. Or at least shame would have been the expected reaction. Now she could just laugh and shrug it off. She felt so free. So free, and so safe. Despite his senior many times over, Fiona felt protected by this other one. She felt as if finally, after all these years, she had found someone he could trust, someone she could be happy with. It was a nice change.
~Memories~
At one point she remembered being inside the transport vehicle; now she appeared in some sort of daycare-like building, but the strange thing was that is was not a daycare. People of all ages, from toddler to elderly, sat in the large auditorium which was an abandoned city hall. The sounds of war from outside were barely even heard, and at some points, the sounds seemed to have stopped altogether.
Several children about her age ran by and went into one of the smaller rooms, which used to be a Board of Directors conference room. The girl followed the children into the room. They laughed and giggled and pushed each other around. She stood by and watched them play, while recapping what had happened before Schi'vya entered the form. The children saw her standing next to the doorway, and one of the boys stood up and walked towards her. "Hey. Do you want to come and play with us? We're gonna play a fun game everyone's been talking about."
The girl thought about it for a moment or so, and smiled warmly. "Sure, I'll play."
The boy smiled back, and they went towards the center of the room where a huge table used to be. Now, it was just a dark mark upon the carpet floor. Everyone, including the girl, got into a circle and the boy stood at the center. "Okay. We're going to imagine that we're all gods, and each one of us will pick something that we'll make our world from. I'll start off by being the god of the ground."
Another boy blurted out. "I'll be the god of the winds."
A girl shouted out. "I be god of birdies."
Anther child. "I'm going for god of Water."
"I'll be god of sun."
The boy stared at the girl. "What will you be the god of?"
The girl blushed a little and thought hard. There was one thing that was missing that no one had said. "Well... I would like to be the god of Stars. It would be nice for the night time." She smiled a little, her face turning a little more red.
"Alright. So we all chose to be something. I'll start off by making a planet- Earth."
The other children luaghed and giggled a little.
"And I, as the god of Sun, shall shine my light upon planet Earth."
"Then water comes down as rain from the sky." The girl held out her hands and motioned her fingers to indicate rain falling down on Earth.
"Plants come out of the ground, bringing new life to Earth."
"Then birdies fly in the sky."
"Wind blows the birdies and the plants around in small breezes."
It was the girl's turn. "Day turns to night, as the stars blanket the nighttime sky like little white dots of varying size-- some big, others small."
The children laughed, as their story of their own Earth unfolded before them. And then the memory faded into black nothingness.
~The Top~
The end of the Triskelion reappeared in front of her. Divine tears were still running down her cheeks, not only from frustration, but from happiness as well. The memory of her playing with the other children made her happy-- made her feel young once again. It boosted her confidence a little, but she was still heartbroken by what the wizard had said to her.
A mish sat on top of the mushroom where Schi'vya was crouching behind. She felt the presence of the two deities coming near.
Then the worldspire was brought into being, brushing it aside, sending it free floating towards the surface. Down and down and down some more it fell, that lone forgotten tear that no one had truly noticed or heeded.
It fell silently, shimmering in the passing light of Sol, seen by the creatures living on the ground below as it cast a rainbow of color over the southern hemisphere. Falling from the sky, it landed, splashing lightly upon a single vineaza who had been standing their, awed at the sight. From that moment forward, the creatures life was inexorably altered, it's mind opened to new possibilities and concepts it had never known before.
3/6
Ur smiled mischeviously as she watched her pawn carrying out her orders so obediently. All according to plan, she thought.
PP
6/9 + 1 from Ur
0 PP Move Nihiliath and brainmoss to central Triskelion
-2 PP (1 from Ur) Teach Populace: Nihilians learn sapitheurgy, which similar to animancy, but it affects sentient beings and the two partial minds engage in a metaphysical battle to take control. A consciousness can only control two bodies at a time, but when one body dies, it can take over another.
-2 PP Teach Populace: Nihilian sapitheurges pry the secrets of geomancy from the minds of Eladrin Virago in the Triskelion.
All gods save for Rampart and Astriluxis get 6 PP. Rampart and Astriluxis get 4.
This is week 2 of the Warp. Please start placing your non-landmasses (check the OOC for the link to all remaining un-placed objects). A warning: If you do not either tell me in a PM, mark it on the wiki, or label it (IN a PP EXPENDITURE format) here, your objects will be considered 'abandoned' and come next week when we place all abandoned items, ANYONE may place them... so, if you want your stuff somewhere in particular, you should get on that. .
Nation Strengths/Worship Percents are updated.
Smiling though, Absalom responded to Fiona's comment "I know what you were trying to do, but I did not feel the need to make any grandoise dramatic statements."
When she asked for his name though Absalom became uncomfortable, for some reason he had reservations about revealing himself for who he was. He did not know why, the Queen had never truly known him in Mishway, and given how honest and open she was being to him did she not deserve some reciprication? However he found he did not want to say, still.
Giving in to the drive, but mentally noting the need to explore this reservation later, Absalom merely said "Perhaps you should call me little brother? And you can be big sister. It will be our little joke on the world, a little spot of fun?"
Just then the two Gods entered the clearing where the humanoid cloudy form sat weeping. Absalom hoped it would not recognize him, he had changed so much since last they had encountered each other and his energy had seemed to undergoe a fundamental evolution in the darkness. So with any luck, his identity could stay secret for a moment longer....
"Hail stranger!!! Why do you weep so?"
She sniffed and sobbed. "Oh... what's the use of creating a mortal race if all we do is just sit around and play Puppets with them?" She wiped her cloudy cheeks off. "Why don't they deserve a better, more worthwhile life? I'm just sitting here, being toyed around by others here, because I caregive to my mortals so much that they think it's some sort of funny act... they think of me as being a mortal god..." More tears ran down her face. It was tough for her to remain calm while frustration overtook her. "I feel hated and pitied upon... I just want to stop it all. I think this joining of worlds has gotten us all rather confused..." She looked up towards the watery sky. The Triskelion could be faintly seen from the reflection of the water. "Oh... look it at how beautiful the water is. You can see the reflection of the world. I only wish our world was just as beautiful..."
A single thought ran through her head one last time-- one that bite her within her confidence. 'I can.'
A drop of her divine tears splattered against the ground, and a small blue portal opened up before her. On the other side was a different world-- a world ful of blue skies, oceanic clouds, and bright stars dotting the skies above and below. She nearly gawked at the sheer beauty of it. A wave of air blew past her from this alternate world. She gestured to the figures. "Come look. This world... it's so beautiful... It's almost as if it were a dream..."
The Stormbridge Colosseum appeared in the middle of the vision. The vision, as she was about to find out, was actually a doorway to this alternate world, and where the colosseum once existed is yet another doorway to the same place. Peaks of mountains started to appear in this image, and then a vast, green forest came into view. This world flourished with green shrubery and delicate forests. The colosseum floated right above a crystal blue lake. The stormbirds, thunderhawks and elementals were releived to finally find ground. It has been the first time in a long time that they've had contact with solid ground.
4 PP- Create Greater Plane (Astral Sea): A sea of stars and flowing clouds gives this plane its name, and the plane seems to stretch out forever, like the warped world... only this time, instead of endless blackness, it is a sea of clouds and the same stars that dot the skies. (Free molding of the plane is allowed for one week, until the next Reset)
2PP- Create Lesser Plane (Astral Winds): In one corner of the Astral Plane lies the Astral Winds, a place of many mountains, plateaus, valleys, canyons, lakes, rivers, plains, and forests. It is constantly breezy in this part of the plane, hence its name. (Free molding is allowed indefinetely)
0PP- The Stormbridge Colosseum is moved into the Astral Winds, along with most of the Stormbirds, Thunderhawks, and Air Elementals.
Current PP- 0/6
The Bottom, The Shallows
The Shallows, again, were one of the last things to be moved over in the new world... first one of the last through, now one of the last to find its place. But it could no remain around the Hive like that... the trilobites needed open ocean, not the crowded nature of the Coral Forests, and the Coral Forests could not bear the constant trauma the shifting of the Twisted Hive did to them.
With a flash, the Shallows disappeared, and reappeared to the north, beyond the landmass directly above the Hive.
The Floating Continent
The Mother confessed she was highly tempted to merely lay her eggs and go to visit the Itja-Reks tomb... his invitation was not one to be ignored. And she admitted she was curious to see whether the rather impressive man had an equally impressive hive...
But she had a task... she had spoken much of Children, and how she wanted to have them everywhere, but she had yet to actually follow through on her desires! Only one race of Children was just too few... she loved her trilobites, but she needed to birth, to raise her brood, to be loved by many! But she should not merely make a second batch of trilobites... no, this time she should create something... different. Hm, the trilobites lived in tight knit communities... what if she created something that preferred to be alone? But that was obscene! She loved community, how could she forge them if her Children didn't get along? Unless... hm, she had said something about an ant queen not long before, had she not? When she was mistaken as to the nature of the Queen... perhaps...
Yes, that was perfect! But before she could do that, she had to create the Queens... no, not all would be female, so Queens or Kings would not be appropriate. Perhaps... Lords? Yes, she shall call them the Brood Lords! Lords of their Brood, and the land around them!
Crawling out from Aavizs little hole, the Mother entered the desert that consume most of his continent... her acti cacti would seem to have some use in this place after all. Hm... she would need to make more than one type of her Brood Lords, as one who mastered the sands of the desert could not also master the earth beneath their feet, or the sky above their reach. And the same held true for the earth beneath and the sky above... Land, Underground, Air, that seemed a reasonable way to divide them. Perhaps she should make aquatic ones as well... no, aside from the waterfall that constantly streamed between the continent and the earth, large bodies of water was lacking on this continent, and they would feel weak and helpless compared to their more free to move kin. Sand Lords, Sky Lords, and Earth Lords would do just fine.
Moving over to a nondescript section of the desert, the Mother lay down, panting as she felt her eggs shifting within her. These were... powerful creatures, far more so than her trilobites. This would not be a simple birthing... Continuing to pant, the Mother eventually laid three, massive eggs, half the size she herself was each! That had... been painful. But as they began to tear from the inside as her new Children arose, she found that it was worth it.
The first eggs was the Sky Lord, winged sovereign that would possess all it could see from above, while always retaining ownership of the sky above and the freedom that came with it. It seemed to be based rather on a dragonfly... with the emphasis on 'dragon'. It certainly had the body of one, albeit more streamlined and covered in a bright green carapace. And its head was also draconian in shape, though with a narrower, elongated jaw and three sets of compound eyes. But its tail was that of a dragonfly, as were its wings and legs. The whole thing seemed designed for aerial battle, and seemed to be shaped with speed and force in mind. This Lord would surely rule the skies.
The second to hatch was that of the Sand Lord, poisonous sovereign that would rule the sands of the desert with an iron claw... or a chitinous one anyway. This Lord seemed to be based upon a scorpion, though seemed to have a heavy dose of... titan? Dragon? It was indefinable, yet made the lord seem so much more... cunning. Covered in a jade colored carapace, with massive claws, scorpion legs and a huge scorpion tail that could poison the heart of a land itself, the creature was MEAN looking. But it had a head rather than a scorpions habit of having none, albeit a strange one with almost beak like jaws and large compound eyes. And it stood somewhat erect, so its claws looked more like hands rather than a continuation of its legs. It could burrow, it could kill, it could plan, and this Lord would surely rule the sands.
The last to hatch was the Earth Lord, long Lord that would burrow the deep for eternity, and treasure every cavern and object it found there as its own. This Lord took after a monstrous centipede, but oh so much longer... its coils were as a monstrous serpent, and its large 8 sets of compound eyes glimmered with intelligence and greed. Its stingers dripped acidic venom, and its blackened carapace with a reddened underbelly seemed to possess the darkness and depth of the dark underground it came from. It was powerful, it was ambitious, and this Lord would surely rule the deep.
The three Lords did not like being near one another... after all, they were Lords! And there could only be one Lord in a given land! But the Mother halted them before they could fight, or part ways.
"Wait, my Children," she beseeched. "You can part ways soon enough... but first, there is one more thing I must give unto you... after all, a Lord cannot rule without Servants to follow them."
0PP - Move the Shallows further North of the Hive, past the landmasses to the North of it. As a side note, the Hook Horrors and Mud Crabs should still be on the swamp islands, so I think that's about it for my moving stuff...
3PP - Form Populace (Epic) Brood Lords - Brood Lords are gigantic insects loosely comparable in strength and character to dragons... like dragons, they have age categories, and grow bigger and stronger as they grow older. However, they find ruling over territory far more gratifying than lording over petty gems, and tend to actively plot against each other rather than merely fight when they meet. There are Sky Lords, dragonfly like Lords who rule the skies, Sand Lords, scorpion like Lords who rule the sands, and Earth Lords, centipede like Lords that rule the underground.
[5/9]
Itja-Rek waited for his friend to arrive, but The Mother was taking her sweet time in showing up, clearly busy with... well, whatever large insectoid gods did in their spare time. Make more insectoid things, he imagined. Lounging back in his throne, the god stared at the ceiling, slowly felt his consciousness go slack, and eventually the god slept.
Some time later, the god awoke to a horribly familiar sound. A sucking noise roared in his ears as a force pulled at his essence. Itja-Rek looked around, and eventually spotted the rift in the far wall. Once more the Otherness was trying to reclaim him, but this time he was ready.
Itja-Rek shoved the fear welling up inside him down and took the first fateful step towards the rift. It was larger this time, clearly visible and distorting the stone around it, ringed with a dark red glow. Itja-Rek stood before it for a moment, focusing on what he had to do next as the red maw tried to rip his essence from his body.
Itja-Rek suspected that the reason this room was constantly fending off incursions from the Otherness was because of the time it had spent hurtling through the void before it had crashed into Culthet, which had, in essence, weakened the strength of the universe here... made it easy to break apart. In fact, as the universe had aged, the sense of unease he had felt in this room had waned, and the tension had lessened as the matter grew stronger. This was probably the final remaining weak point in the room, which meant he had to bolster it as much as possible, and he certainly couldn't let any more of the matter here flow through, otherwise the weakness would merely spread again.
Steeling himself, Itja-Rek reached into the void with his fingers, temporarialy pulling the hole larger as he attempted to grab the matter that had flowed through, wrapping it up in his hands and pulling it out. He felt some resistance, which was to be expected, and so he pulled harder.
With a tearing sound, his hands left the rift and the sucking noise stopped as Itja-Rek stumbled backwards, landing on his back. He lifted his head, and saw that the rift remained... yet... different somehow.
Cruias is Ascended!!!!
The god of change was rapidly altering his appearance while thinking of something to do. His hair flashed through all colors of the rainbow, and then some, and his body changed from large, to small, to thick, to blobby, as he stroked his chin.
A faintest flicker of being came to the darkness. A speck of self within the nothingess, where nothing could be. This speck was of the nothing, and yet was not itself nothing. Around the mote of existence, the darkness was squeezing tightly upon it, trying to crush it in the cold embrace of the void. The spark, however, was the vital godstuff of a newborn deity. The void could not contain it, could not consume it; instead, it merely poured into the flicker as if a stopper had been removed, the darkness flooding into the infinite form and power of a god.
The darkness pulled into itself, collapsing into a pinpoint speck as Itja-Rek pulled it away, consuming itself with the light that could not be, yet was. Born of perhaps a fragment of the elder god's own soul, the newborn life was what it was- a god.
As the backlash dropped Itja-Rek to the floor, the newborn god hovered within the room, the void coursing through a gash in reality. A self-contained void, the new god continued it's amalgation of movement, staring curiously at the being on the floor in front of it. While not aware of their possible connection, the youngling knew of nothing at all. As the rip focused on the fallen god, it filled itself with knowledge of language, the most basic of the tools of life.
From the void whispered a soft, piercing voice, misting the air with the frost that lined it's body. "So very cold...who are you?... Who am I?... Why?"
Harkon thought for a moment, pondered the words, then asked Syreene as question. "If there is no spring yet, then who calls you the Maiden of it?"
Syreene considered the question for a long time. "Let me try explaining it thusly. Imagine that you went on a great journey through the abyss, far beyond the reach of Sol, Mani, or anything else familiar. Eons passed by, and eventually you came to a great glacier. There are small rock-like creatures living on the glacier, and they see your form, and they ask what you are. You say that you are lord of water. They scoff at you, because there is no water where they live. just ice. You know who you are, but these others question your very being, so to show them, you melt the ice, and show unto them the water that is so very dear to you."
The goddess waved a hand. Above and below, in response to the movement, new buds loomed on barren trees. "And so it is."
She nodded, briefly, at Caltabactos, in greeting.
Itja-Rek stared at the floating rift for a very long time, guarding himself against any tricks. It was certainly possible that whatever he had done had backfired and this was the result... a moving spot of destruction. But it seemed real... enough. It cast a shadow, it certainly spoke, it seemed solid enough, if the rimefrost forming on its surface was any indication.
"I am... Itja-Rek." he said, probing with his mind and sensing that whatever it was before him, it was certainly a god. "You... are... I have no idea. We will have to come up with a name for you. As for why... I also have no idea. You... just appeared when I attempted to close a rift to the Otherness. Clearly I did not do a very good job."
Stahk'vaas felt his tentacles quivering with an unfamiliar emotion. The cut and bloodied bodies of another Inquisition lay splayed out before him and his peers, rotting under the silver-golden light of the world's satellites.
By the look of the bodies, they had been taken unaware -- none had drawn a weapon, nor were their brains charged with the residual psionic latency of used psionic talents. Their surprise had been utter, their doom, complete.
{{Orders?}} Stahk'vaas turned to its underling. It stood up, and folded its arms. {{This inquisition was ambushed. There is nothing more for us here.}} broadcast the illithid leader. {{Another dead end. We should return to the--}}
It happened so quickly, Stahk'vaas barely had time to process that it was happening. The clearing had erupted into a blur of violent motion. Food-beasts burst from the ground, out from bushes, down from the leafy boughs of trees. Faster than thought they fell upon the second Inquisition. Stahk'vaas found one of the Virago suddenly in front of him. Regaining its wits, it lashed out with its mind, expecting to drive the food-beast back. But nothing happened.
Instead, the Eladrin brought one arm (currently enveloped in an amber fascimilie of vines, burrs, and briars knotted into a verdant claw) slashing across the mindflayer's face. Three of Stahk'vaas' tentacles hit the ground, followed by the mindflayer itself. Sweet brainmoss, it hurt! The food-beast grabbed Stahk'vass roughly, its wooden claws probing painfully into the mindflayer's fragile scalp. Stahk'vass found itself being turned, surveying the corpses in the clearing, the first inquisition's, and now those of its underlings. And a dozen or more feral, raging, food-beasts.
The Eladrin brought Stahk'vass' head full circle, growling and sputtering directly into the creature's face. It's language was coarse, nigh unpronounceable, yet Stahk'vass found the words thrusting directly into its brain, making themselves painfully clear, imprinting themselves on the mind flayer's psyche:
{{"We are the Arborwrath. This is the only warning your kind shall get. Leave now, or face extinction."}}
The eladrin with the battlebriar's arm hurled Stahk'vass away then, and it was all the mindflayer could do not to curl into a limp ball. As the maimed flayer fled for its life, its single remaining tentacle writhed wordlessly. Stahk'vass had finally recognized that unusual emotion: fear.
-Event: A new tribe of Virago grow in power in the wake of the mindflayer incursion: the Arborwrath Tribe.
-2 Teach Populace: (Eladrin, Psionics) in response to the mindflayer incursion, more and more Virago are born with psionic ability stolen from their aggressors, as a natural extension of their geomantic abilities. Most Virago choose to perfect their geomancy, developing their psionic talents only so far such as to block all stray thoughts, preventing mindflayers from detecting them telepathically, and forcing the abberations to rely on their much weaker physical senses to detect them.
The Floating Continent
They were getting impatient... she could feel her new Children's frustration. They were not meant to work together, at least with different forms of their kind... and even not together effectively unless under the iron carapace of an extremely powerful one of their ilk. And they were also wanting to go off and lay their eggs... she did not want them to simply be three of a kind! They would have their own Children, though in their nature they would leave them to raise themselves and grow strong from harshness... but that was neither here nor there.
What was here was that she had promised them servants, and she intended to deliver unto her promise. Turning around, the Mother again laid eggs... only this time, rather than three massive ones, their were many, many smaller ones, each somewhat larger than a halfling, or whatever small race there is in the current world to make the comparison. These eggs pile up, spreading before the three Brood Lords, before the Mother sighed, settling down on her haunches to rest, tired from the laying... two types of Children in such little time, it was draining to say the least! And she still had so much to do... but not with these Children. With these Children, all she had left to do was explain.
"Breath upon them," the Mother explained to the puzzled Brood Lords. "These eggs cannot hatch without the breath of a Brood Lord... and so the things within it shall always be bound to you as their Mother, their Saviour, and their Lord."
Curious now, though still somewhat hesitant, the Brood Lords each blew their breath upon their fair portion of their eggs. And with that breath... life stirred within. The eggs shook, before they hatched, into... a race that were surely all of the same ilk, but yet not. They were all small, and all stood on two legs, with a mere two arms. Each were somewhat squat, and covered in a hard carapace. Each were roughly the same shape, had large heads, and had many of the small similarities that marked them as kin. However, those blown upon by the Sand Lord were jade in hue, sharing a head somewhat like his own, and with claws for hands and small (compared to his own) scorpion like tails. Those blown upon by the Sky Lord were bright green in color, with a head rather like their Lords, a dragonfly like tail, and a set of gossamer wings, though far smaller and less regal than that of their Lord. Finally, those breathed upon by the Earth Lord had large heads with eight eyes, like their Lord, and large mouth stingers like they themselves did. They also had two more sets of arms, albeit insectoid with no hands rather than their slightly more humanoid if still carapaced ones, and were dark in coloration. Perhaps most surprising however, to the Mother included, that those few eggs where breaths overlapped shared common traits with both the breaths of their Lords! Those breather upon by Sand Lord and Sky Lord had wings and claws, with colors in between the two, those breathed upon by Sky Lord and Earth Lord had mouth stingers and wings, etc. And most bizarrely, those breathed upon all three shared the best traits of all their kin! 8 eyes, wings, claws, mouth stingers, name stingers, extra arms, you name it, you name it, they had it! Each however, regardless of its lineage, knew who their Lord was, and so each Lord received a fair portion of their... hm, she must think of a name for these Children of hers... Broodlings.
"Here are your Broodlings, Brood Lords," the Mother told them. "They will be devoted to you, and need your help to hatch their young... treat them well however, for they are followers, not slaves. As for these... Hybrid Broodlings, they shall be the property of whomever breaths upon them last. It shall normally take seven days for these eggs to hatch upon receiving breath, so there should be plenty of time to breath upon them and give them multiple gifts if that is what you wish to do. They are stronger than their kin, and I am sure you will co-operate well enough to give each of you your fair share of their power."
She was wrong. Though the Mother imagined that this would breed unity, despite their individualistic tendencies, it would breed only strife. Entire wars would be fought for the chance to raid each others hives, so that they could steal the eggs within and have powerful hybrid soldiers of their own. This would be even more complicated when more Brood Lords arose, for the world was not composed of Sand and Sky and Earth alone. However, all that is a story for another time, and barring the Grass Lords, none would be birthed any time soon.
For now though, the Mother was blissfully ignorant of just how much strife her creations would bring... let alone that it would ultimately lead to her untimely death at the hands of one of her own Children. Which was all for the best, in the end, for what would her life be if she had known? For now, she was content to rest awhile, before she had the strength to visit the tomb of the Itja-Rek.
Wow, took a LOT of balls to foreshadow something so massive in an RP, but guess I can always retcon it if it doesn't turn out that way...
The new godlet's thoughts turned inward, inspecting itself. Was it then the rift itself, produced by some mad happenstance from the efforts of this god before it? Staring inward, he saw nothing. Endless nothing, cold and hungry. It's boundaries clearly defined by the frost that covered it's outer edges, the god felt nothing, was nothing, and might consume everything. With a morbid curiousity, the godlet's form contorted, slapping out against the wall with one trailing edge. Immediately a line of stone dissapeared utterly, leaving a smooth, unblemished scar in the otherwise perfect construction.
His form recoiled from the wall, frost trailing behind it and clutching the consumed wall's edges. His mere touch had made it... not be. Was this the nature of the 'rift' the god spoke of?
"Am I... bad, unwanted?", he asked, fear and sadness in his voice. His own creator had called him a unwanted failure, after all.
The Nihilian High Council was disturbed by the news Stahk'vaas had brought back. These Eladrin food-beasts had developed a degree of psionic capabilities, he claimed. He said that the Eladrin threatened to exterminate them. Quickly regaining their composure, the High Council developed a plan to deal with these arrogant food-beasts. They gathered ten animancers and sent one body of each on a diplomatic mission, one to each of the tribes they were aware of. The message they bore carried the effect of, "We have just made a migration due to lack of prey in our homeland and have nearly exhausted our food supply. Our unique anatomy requires sentient prey. However, we are working on methods to eliminate our dependency on sentients in all situations but the most severe famines. Left alone, we could develope the technology needed to not rely on eating you and yours, and could work out a deal which would be mutually beneficial. In the meantime, instead of raiding your villages, you could use this as an opportunity to eliminate threats to society; criminals, radicals, et cetera. However, if you will not leave us be, it would be far better to fight you're tangible army than the intangible hand of starvation. You may drive us to extinction, but we swear by the Secret Keeper that the victory will be very, very costly for you." The animancers stayed, waiting for a response from the food-beasts.
"Well then, as it seems you favor life over death, the timely order of seasons over chaos, perhaps you might join Itja-Rek, the Mother, and myself in a oath of power, a promise to the lords of creation that we will see this world flourish and become a peaceful home for us and ours?"
The Lord of Waters nodded towards Caltabactos as well. "And you too, if you are so inclined.
The girl woke up in the hands of an elderly woman-- she seemed to be in her late 40's or early 50's. The woman spoke. "Wake up, little girl. That's it. Wow-- you've been asleep for quite a while. I was beginning to worry that you'd never wake up."
The girl shook her head. "Wha-- what? I've been asleep for... how long? And where are we going?"
The woman was running down one of the hallways towards the entrance with a few uniformed men. Gunshots and booming sounds could be heard. They were closer than before. "You've been asleep for at least twelve hours."
'Twelve hours...?' The girl was stunned by this discovery. Schi'vya was petrified as well. Something came into her realization. 'Was this actually happening right now? Was she actually still alive? If she is, then why did her spirit get summoned into the immortal world early on?' This was something that she did not even expect. It seemed as though her memories were happening in real time... wherever she was in mortal form...
As they got outside of the door, the transport was already warmed up. A missile twirled by and exploded nearby. The force of the explosion was so great that it pushed the woman and the girl down to the ground. The uniformed men helped them back up and got them into the back of the transport. The transport lifted off of the ground and quickly sped its way from the building. Part of the building was blown away from that missile. The girl could see many vehicles advancing towards each other, flashes and streaks of little lights flew right at each other. A few missiles twirled in the air and made large fireballs on the ground as they hit the vehicles and whatever they touched...
~The Top; Triskelion~
Schi'vya woke up from her split second sleep. She gasped at the sudden fraught that her dreams were not in fact dreams, but what were happening in the mortal world as she spent time in this place. Was this place a dream, or was it actually real? This was going to be something she'll have to figure out on her own.
Itja-Rek shook his head, a peculiar feeling gripping what served as his heart at the plaintive questions of the being before him.
"No, you are not bad, at least I do not think so. You are just unexpected. But you and I are not so dissimilar."
Itja-Rek willed the souls on his arm to flow back towards his torso, soon revealing the thing skeleton of Otherness that had formed the core of the god.
"I too am from the beyond, from the Otherness, which, I imagine, makes us kin in some fashion. I do not know how I drew you out from the blackness, but I am always glad to have kin. Welcome to the seat of my power, my tomb. Beyond you shall find a whole world, a whole universe... but before that, we should give you a name. You will find that everything here in this world has names. We can name you... Cruias. It means cold darkness in... well, I don't remember the language's name, but one of my souls informs me that Cruias would be the right word."
"No, not in the slightest. Come. I cannot stray far from this place as I am expecting a friend, but I can at least show you what lies beyond the entry tunnel. Please, follow me. And..." The god looked uncomfortable. "Try not to touch the walls... I just had them painted."
Grimacing at the not-yet-realized damage to his tomb, the god led Cruias up and out through the maze of tunnels and chambers until they passed through the entry chamber and into the tunnel. Slowly the light from outside grew brighter and brighter until finally they stood at the entry way.
Things had, to put it mildly, changed. Deep within his tomb, separated as he was from the world by the planar barriers, he had not felt it when Poliphas had moved the entirety of his continent. Now instead of a gently rolling plain, his tomb looked out on a broad mountain range, reaching up into the heavens towards Bottom far below.
And then there was the light! Itja-Rek shielded his eyes and took a step out into the world. The light was blinding, hitting the mountains and turning them brilliantly white aside from the long shadow cast by Wenet, which appeared to be located on a small peninsula sticking into the Veil beyond the range. Itja-Rek turned to try and locate the source of the light and staggered backwards as he realized that the Sun itself was passing directly overhead as it moved through the Veil.
"Augh..." he muttered, shaking his head to eliminate the spots. "Well, this is the outside. Its quite bright at the moment, but as you can see, it is certainly not cold nor dark. In an hour or so we can take another look when the sun leaves the Veil."
Within him he felt a growing sense of hunger, the Otherness inside of him yearning to break free and encompass the light around him. Rippling in tension, the void was kept in check as the godlet fought it back.
"It feels so warm.. the Otherness yearns for it.."
Suddenly curious, he carefully expanded his form, stretching a thin cord of void essence towards the grass below him. Holding it next to the grass, he saw the coldness lining his form spreading into the ground and grass, before being warmed by the sun's persistent rays. Willing the empty void within him not to consume the grass, he lightly brushed a clump with his tendril. For several seconds nothing happened... but then it slowly withered away and was absorbed into him. Dissapointed, a cold wind circled around Cruias as he sighed.
Looking around, he realized he had stared off into space. "I must be getting as senile as he is!" Looking down to the continent below, he noticed new movement and things he had never seen before. Flying down but not too close, he saw the new brood lords, the mother and his old friend Aaviz. These look like they could be trouble one day. I may want to come back and check on my own children soon. Calling out to his old friend and the mother, his voice booming loud enough for them to hear him, "There is still much to see and do old friend! I'm going to go see what is beyond your falls and see what is out there! Don't forget your invitation!" And with that Astriluxus flies through the veil to the waiting world beyond.
~WWorld~
Flying out he sees things in a way he's never seen before! "Now this is amazing!" Forests, oceans, mountains, and plains. on two different continents facing each other, with the god tower in the middle and the waltzing mountains floating in between. "This is definitely a work of art. There must be others to have done all of this! I bet I can find some there!" And with a burst of his mighty wings, he flies to the godspire, looking for some of the others gods in this world.
Down here! a voice rang in his mind.
She filled up a part of her soul and released it upon the New World, sending the message to all gods within the world and beyond in the blackness.
'Hail all deities. A new world exists that coincides with this dark place. A world full of color and stars that line the skies above and below; a new world of Creation.'
The Floating Continent
The Mother scowled a little at the Aaviz... 'interesting'? That didn't exactly suggest he liked her new Children... well, if he didn't like her Children, he could such her carrapace! Sorry, sorry, she was always a little moody after birthing her Children...
"They are oh so much more than interesting, the Aaviz," the Mother told him, getting up onto her legs and turning around to look at him. "They are powerful, proud, and natural born rulers... and the Broodlings are linked to them even more so than an ant to its queen. They may not be as of one nation as the trilobites, but the connection between Broodling and Brood Lord is so strong, so wonderful, that each small 'tribe' is more of a community than even a trilobite clan. Though they are perhaps not so strongly bound together as the Bryofites, but frankly that level of conformity is... boring. Tell me, the... the... oh me, I missed that," the Mother sighed, spotting the grass on the Floating Continent... the Sand Lords could not rule over land such as this, they were designed to burrow in sand! Seems she had another Brood Lord to birth...
Moving over to the grass, the Mother plopped down another large egg, which hatched into the Grass Lord, which would forever consider the grass lands and everything in it theirs to possess. They looked as giant grass hoppers, though blue in hue, for they needed not to share the color of the grass for camouflage like their smaller kin... they were strong enough to fight off any predator. With powerful legs that could let them jump with supernatural grace and distance, they also possessed two sets of compound eyes, and large antennae for sensing the air so it could judge its jumps all the more accurately. It also possessed two strange legs as well as the four it used to walk and jump, these ones seeming sharp and spear like, to impale its foes. They were dexterous, tireless, and they would surely rule the grass lands.
Following through with another batch of Broodlings, these Broodlings hatched to be blue in color, with heads like their Lord, and enlarged legs perfect for jumping. Their hands also had similar spikes as on their Lords strange legs, though on the back of their hands and they had not separate limbs for them.
"Sorry about that," the Mother apologized to the Aaviz as she sent the Lord and its Broodlings on its way. "I intend to have creatures such of these for every environment imaginable, and... oh dear," she finished, collapsing onto her haunches. "That... was more exhausting than I had imagined... now the Aaviz, do you have business? Or are you here simply to give cryptic compliments or possibly insults about my Children?"
1 Nourish PP from Oath (Meaning -1 combat) - The Mother nourishes the Brood Lords to have another genus, the Grass Lords. By extension, this creates another form of Broodlings due to their unique prototyping based birthing.
Itja-Rek waited patiently for the dragon lord to approach.
Moving his gaze over to Itja-Rek,"I see this is where your home is. I do not want to cause conflict in your home, so I will refrain. Who is this other and what is his relations to you? I apologise for coming off so forcefully, but I sense something cold and empty coming from this one. Something....not natural or normal." Astriluxus seems on edge upon meeting this new god.
"This is my... kin would be the right word, Astriluxus. His name is Cruias, and as far as I can tell, he is in control of the Otherness within him. He is certainly not normal, but then again, neither am I." The god let out a dry chuckle as his souls moaned softly. "Do you come from Aaviz' islands? Do you know if The Mother is on her way towards here? She was meant to meet me."
Looking over between Itja-rek and Cruias, "A being of souls, I can feel, understand. He is not a being of anything though. Cold, dark. Something I do not wish to ponder at this moment. He may be in control now, but there may be a time when he will not be. When that time comes, those that value life will have to come to terms with him. As he is your kin, he is going to be your responsibility."
Letting a few moments pass as he recovers his composure."I'll make sure, that Aaviz, and the mother make it here, but I have much to be seeing to right now, so if you'll be so kind to excuse me I'll take my leave now." You see Astriluxus curl one of his wings in close. When he opens it a small little dragon like creature is floating there. "go to the ones I was with before and bring them here." he sends to the little messenger. With a little zip up, he is off beyond the veil to the other two. He then lifts off and resumes heading to the godspire, only thise time with a severe look of concern on his face.
"I am sorry for that, Cruias. I would not have anticipated the Astriluxis would be so... judging. He must not have the same level of experience as some of us older gods, especially those of us from Culthet. We know that that which is divine can come in many unexpected forms, and do not hold prejudices like those weak, fluff-headed gods of Mishway and this new world.
I promise that your meeting with The Mother and Aaviz will be far more pleasant for you... they are from Culthet, and they understand."
"...Cuthlet?..
"Yes, Culthet. It was where many of us came from... a place very different from this, full of crashing waves and constant storms and quite unfriendly to most life. We lived there for some time in peace before a great cataclysm came and destroyed the place, throwing us here with some gods from another place called Mishway... a place that seems far too pleasant for my tastes, but now gone as well."
Itja-Rek tapped his foot. "I hope they arrive shortly. I have other things I wish to do with my time."
The Mother sighed. As always, the Aaviz was irritating... she owed him a great debt, but that did not mean she had to enjoy his company.
"Well I appreciate your curiosity, but if all you have to say is a few cryptic comments, then I must take my leave," the Mother replied, getting unsteadily to her feet before spreading her wings. "The Itja-Rek is expecting me, and I have made him wait too long making my new Children... he should have taken priority first, and it was rude of me to do otherwise."
Buzzing her wings somewhat tiredly, the Mother flew off towards the tomb... the Itja-Rek had left some measure of instructions to her, and she could... smell... him. Perhaps smell was the wrong word. She just seemed to be able to feel his essence, as though he were giving off pheromones in a strong wind. Come to think of it, all the Mothers seemed to give off these pheromones... though each had a different scent. The Itja-Reks smelt of dusty places, of decaying corpses, of smoldering ashes of a once great fire... and yet she still somehow found it incredibly alluring. The Aavizs behind her on the other hand smelt of artificial soups, crisp laundry, and that new book smell you get when taking one out of the packet, and she found it most distasteful.
Eventually, the Mother buzzed her way unsteadily up to the tomb, practically collapsing at the entrance as she just let her wings gave way... perhaps she should have rested more.
"The Itja-Rek, I am so sorry for the delay," she told him... before looking at the other company he was keeping. "Is this a new Mother?" she asked. "What an unusual form... its somewhat intriguing though. I am the Mother, the Cold Tear In Nothing, what may I call you?"
"Mother, you look absolutely exausted. Forgive me for asking you to come visit me so soon after your birthings. Had I known, I would have gladly come to visit you instead! Yes, this is another Mother, one very much like me, yet in many ways different. Cruias, meet The Mother. Mother, this is Cruias. I was just showing him the world beyond my Tomb, as that was his own birthing-place."
Absalom found something about this God disquieting. Something in her actions, in her words, in the way she carried herself was not right. There was just barely the hint of madness and desperation in her, and Absalom was not comfortable with that desperation.
Remembering the beating he received the last time he entered into divine combat, the God of beauty summoned forth a portion of power from the Persona, the living entity of fluid gold that bound his essence within its form, and combining it with some of his own power, Absalom set about taking a precaution. Within his hand a blade appeared, as long as his arm with a little to spare, with a milky white blade and a golden hilt. The hilt was fashioned so as to have two faces, on the one face stood a serene angel, head bowed in contemplation and wings folded across her chest. On the opposite face, a tri-horned daemon stood with arms folded across his chest and head tilted back. Both bodies were humanoid, and both stood on a small obsidian black orb.
Absalom settled onto the balls of his feet and balanced the blade in his hand, however the precaution proved unnecessary. The other God drew to her feet and summoned forth a great deal of energy, enough that Absalom felt threatened, but in the next moment that energy was gone. In its place, a rift in this world seemed to have been opened.
Catching a glimpse beyond the rift, Absalom saw an extended space of stars, mountains, fields, and more. The other God stepped through and the next moment Absalom heard a voice ring from beyond ‘Hail all deities. A new world exists that coincides with this dark place. A world full of color and stars that line the skies above and below; a new world of Creation.'
Shrugging to himself, Absalom turned away from the rift and began to walk back towards his newly created canvas. “You see big sister,” mentioned Absalom to Fiona, still on his shoulders, “there are different ways of coping with this world when it does not meet our expectations. You sought understanding and a change in perspective, that one instead created a new world to conform to her wishes. Frankly, I believe your paradigm to be the more mature one.”
As they walked through the forest though, something struck Absalom. “Fiona, if you do not mind me asking, what prompted your identity crisis in the first place?”
4pp (1 from The Persona) Create Greater Artifact: Thucydides- A combat artifact that takes the shape of a longsword with a milky white blade, and a golden daemon and angel standing back to back on a dark orb as the hilt.
My, the Itja-Rek was certain caring and supportive, was he not? Catching her like that, claiming he'd of visited her if he knew she had been tired, offering to guide this new Mother... the Mother couldn't help but let out a few pleased pheromones.
"It is quite alright, the Itja-Rek," the Mother replied. "The point of my visit was to see the place that gave birth to you, and so I am glad to come here even tired... I am honored you would invite me into your first Hive. You have seen mine, after all, and helped to build it... I would show you the egg from which I hatched also, but I devoured it upon hatching to give me strength to survive in the storm of Culthet! I could regurgitate I suppose though, but it is likely mostly digested by this point..."
Turning her attention back to the new Mother, the Mother inclined her head. "Welcome to the world, the Cruias. I am glad to see our numbers continue to grow, and our community strengthen!" This Mother smelt of frozen water, of crackling static, and the same odd dead fire smell as the Itja-Rek... she rather enjoyed it, though the crackling smell put her a little on edge.
Umbart slumbered deeply underground, exhausted by the slight but constant tugs and pulls of the chains the reached to his heart. In his sleep, Umbart dreamed of freedom and sunshine, of taming great beasts and riding with the wind in his face. In his dreams, Umbart was master of all. Then the chains yanked fiercely upon him and he awoke with a start.
Pulled form his dreams of conquest and freedom, Umbart was dazed and confused. With building rage, he stomped through the Caverns of Davos and the entire God spire shook. The fearful death giants then heart a voice thunder forth from the irate god.
I WILL BE FREE!
Umbart smashed the Sybillian Dream and silver tiles fell. Across the world, beings were felled by ones and tens as Umbart's rage reached out and touched them. Seeing the devastation that he wrought, Umbart knew shame. His anger quench by his guilt, Umbart set out to make things right with world again. He knew that he must be free in order to bring honor to the world.
I must be free of this heart, but how? I lost my last on.
Umbart molded a heart of fire from nearby stream of lave but it would not do.
Umbart tried with all the elements to make a new heart that would serve him well but failed.
I must forge mysel....
With the word forge, Umbart trailed off as an idea struck him. With a determined air Umbart searched the Caverns for just the right place to build his forge. When he found a small cave that was directly above a giant pool of magma, Umbart set to work. Umbart dove directly through the earth into the pool of Magma and reshaped the huge chamber into perfect sphere. Magma filled the bottom third of the chamber and air above until you reach the perfectly smooth roof.
At the equator of the room Umbart pulled ledge out so that once could walk comfortable above the pooled magma below. The ledge was so wide the small communities could develop upon it. Umbart had no idea how important this would be. The first step complete Umbart stop to rest for he knew that next step would be even harder.
5/6 PP
-1 PP towards the forge of the gods
So... Anubis. Have you been hitting on Itja all this time and I'm just now noticing it? I'm as bad with girls as my mom said I was... even fantastical... odd... insectoid... ones. Wait, no. I guess I'm still okay :D
Eventually, the Animancers found their bodies shuffling back to their fell cities.
The body that had visited the Amblecloud tribe came back first, spewing nonsense, and with a dreamy, pleasure-saturated expression on its face. Clearly, the Ambleclouds were no threat, though Sil's spores still permeated the area heavily enough to be excrutiatingly bothersome.
By one's and two's the other bodies returned to the conclave. Despite the disparity between the groups, the messages were basically all the same: "The Gigadobbit does not begrudge the Orionids who hunt it." intoned one of the ambassadors. "...but the Orionids are fools if they expect their prey to roll over and die." finished another.
Of course, the ambassador sent to investigate the Arborwrath tribe failed to return at all.
~Among the Waltzing Mountains~
Syreene smiled softly, and shook her head.
"I think your cause noble, but I dare say it is not something..." the goddesses' features contorted visibly for a few moments, but Syreene remained present. "I dare say it is not something we can satisfactorily conclude, one way or the other, currently" she amended. "But thank you for the offer. I shall inform you when, if, we decide, one way or the other."
She nodded her head briefly to both Harkon, and Caltabactos in turn, then paused to stroke her chin. "Now where would The Mother have gone, do you think?" she wondered aloud. "I'd very much like to revisit our earlier conversation."
Fiona barely batted an eyelash as yet another being came and went. She merely went along, tapping along at the top of little brother's head. She had a nice rhythm going, too. Tappety-tap, tappety-tap.
"Well, it's rather complicated you see," she began, "But I suppose it begins and end with Itja."
Tappety-tap, tappety-tap.
"Oh Itja... he proposed to me, you know?" she said, and then she laughed, "Oh, of course, that's the story I was telling."
She paused and smiled to herself. Tappety-tap, tappety-tap. Then with a laugh she resumed.
"Well, you see, there was a huge group of gods, right?" she continued, apparently enjoying having an audience, "Anyways, he just randomly got down on one knees, pulled a diamond from the ground and proposed. It was rather exciting at first..."
Tappety-tap, tappety-tap.
"At first..."
Tappety-tap.
"Then it got bad. Really bad."
Tappety-tap.
And then the little girl snapped out of it, as though from a trance. She focused her eyes upon the back of littler brother's head, the foliage all around them sliding through her peripheral vision like so much green water.
"Anyways," she said, then I came here, and found you and it was all all right again. The bad stuffs all gone now and I get to be here, with you little brother, for ever and ever."
She smiled broadly and hugged the other one's head, momentarily blinding him. Realizing her mistake she quickly adjusted her grip but held on tightly. Held on and didn't let go.
Oh, I noticed the irritation, I just chalked it up to the whole mating for love thing, not Jealousy! So... Anubis. Ara... can I get you two to fight over me? *bats eyelashes*
Not entirely sure what to say, or how to say it, Cruias kept silent for many long minutes, listening to the two talk. It seemed to him there was something between these two- respect, at the least, perhaps something deeper. Not noticing the god who had silently followed behind him, Cruias finally spoke up.
"It is good... to meet you, Mother. I have.. a question, though. Why is it you... glow, shine, smell... of life, unlike Itja-Rek?"
. Seriously though, they already have sort of... it was probably just a little too subtle for you to notice. Or Ara maybe.. okay, so maybe it was just sulking.~Among the Waltzing Mountains~
Harkon thought for a moment. It was curious that he had remained behind when the Mother and Itja-Rek had left, since he had stopped entirely because of them, but that was as it was. The Mother had traveled off, towards that hole in the veil. Though it was too far away to see with eyes, Harkon could feel the water there as well as he could feel his own. He could feel that hole, and from the whispers of the water he knew that the Mother had gone that way... yes, she hadn't stayed. There was an essence that the gods seemed to leave behind as they went from place to place. No, essence was the wrong word. When they passed, they didn't leave any thing behind, and yet, there it was, a something that the lord of waters found he could sense, now that he was aware of it.
He had sensed this before, when Itja-Rek had sent souls to him. He had been able to follow the path of the souls back... perhaps that is what he was sensing, the path, the road that life traveled.
"I think," Harkon said to Syreene, "that the Mother is in... that direction."
The lord of waters tried to point, but lacking pointing appendage that seemed difficult. He wurbbled his body but to no avail; the other deity didn't seem to get his intention. Other gods had those arms for holding and pointing, with their hands and the fingers and all. Even the Mother, though she lacked hands, seemed to need appendages. Perhaps he too should become more like these other gods in that respect?
Harkon rose up, his body forming an S, and a large beefy arm formed from his back. With it he pointed towards where Itja-Rek's tomb had come to rest. "I believe she is somewhere over there."
"Please do think upon my offer, as it will always remain open. As a token of my good faith, if you so choose to use the sun and the moon as signs of the changing seasons, as that young one had suggested, please do feel free to do so. However, if you will now excuse me..." Harkon bobbed a fair well to Syreene and Caltabactos. He let his eyes and mouth fall from his body once again and he turned to rain and fell towards the oceans below.
~The Oceans Around the Hive~
Rain fell upon the waves, rain watered the seamats that lazed upon the largely untroubled surface. A wind was beginning to pick up, which was new as there had previously been no air for wind to travel through. It seemed that as Sol and Mani made their course around the inside of the world they released breathable air.
A thin memory of air had stuck to the land, left over from the old planes. It had been enough to allow creatures to live, but not to thrive. Here, here was air to breath and air to fly upon, wind to rustle the the leaves and move the waves. The waters of the world were grateful to the sun and the moon, and though the oceans were unaware except in the form of their lord, they nonetheless tried to follow after the two jellies, creating the tide.
The rain that fell upon the waves was itself soaked with power, the essence of the divine. Unlike normal water, this did not mingle and become diluted. Rather, it imparted its power without diminishing itself. Droplet to droplet, and puddles formed. Puddles to puddles, and wavering masses of water in water held together. Divine will hardened that water, turning liquid to flesh. But it was a hard world still, so flesh was not left unprotected. A shell like rock encased the stout flesh, with only two legs, two arms, and a head left unprotected. Yet even these limbs weren't left without protection, for the skin upon them was tough, wrinkled, and loose. A mind to think and create was placed inside of their heads, and they were given a beak-like mouth to feed themselves with. Their eyes were dark and set back in their head, large for seeing in the murky depths of the oceans. From their chin grew a tangle of hair, though it was thick enough so as to look like seaweed. They were given thick fingers, though skilled with crafting, and powerful legs to swim and run. These would be at home both in the water and on land, though ever and anon they'd prefer the latter.
Some of these new creatures swam around the base of the hive, others took to the seamats that floated nearby. They discovered one another and the world. Though the world was harsh, they managed to find food and shelter enough to live, for now.
If mortals had eyes to see, they might have discerned a god in the oceans, watching them. It was long like a snake, with two disembodied eyes and a mouth. Harkon had decided against the one beefy arm and instead had many pairs of limbs, each ending in a webbed hand or foot, and each finger or toe ending in a talon-like point.
0PP Shape God - Harkon gives himself limbs. I'm still deciding on the exact number, but it will at the least be more than 4
0PP Move Plants - Harkon moves the seamats so that they are only on the bottom. None are on the top or on the outside.
1PP from Sol and Mani - Nourish: The Interior world. Air is provided to the interior of the world only (not the floating continent or the outside of the world). Since people didn't seem to concerned about this, I figured 1PP was more than enough to make enough air for everyone.
4PP - Shape Populace: Mazunti. Harkon creates the Mazunti; an aquatic people that look like a cross between a turtle dragon and a dwarf. Stats are already in the LoC group, but I'll be posting them to the Wikia soon as well.
4pp remaining
The Reaper looked up at the faint sound of her master's call and left the thatched-roof cottages that she had been watching for some time. A sickness was racing through the village, and it would not be long before many of the people here would be dead and their souls placed in her nearly-full basket. A brief flash of anger and frustration flowed through her, and the Exarch's hands twitched as the emotions, a pale substitute for the God's favor, activated a few of her brain's tortured receptors. Why would Itja-Rek summon her at this point, when she was so close? She was not ready to deliver her next basket yet, and the god had made the terms of their agreement very clear. Then again, she thought to herself, Itja-Rek had never summoned her without providing some measure of his Bliss to her, so perhaps her punctuality and this truly nearly-full basket would be enough. Gathering herself, she moved swiftly towards the GodSpire, eventually coming to the opening in the Hive that led to the river that ran through the Spire. She swam inside and felt the world seem to twist, the water flowing along what her mind percieved as 'the wall' and then 'the ceiling' before her. But then she was through the interface, and sliding downwards, making the trip from side to side far more rapidly than if she had walked. One final turn and she was ejected into the small pool of water on the Top. She shook the water from her scales and turned to see the SunShade mountains far rimward and began moving towards them with purposeful slithers.
~The Tomb of Itja-Rek~
As they waited for the naga to arrive, Itja-Rek left the central chamber and found another room not far from it. Here he began to work, fashioning a large funnel out of magic-enhanced metal and capping it at top and bottom with more metal. He summoned forth out of the wall ornate metal and glass rods and straps to fix the funnel in place. Then, he touched the sides of the funnel, etching out three openings. One small and circular near the base, one medium sized and oval in the center and one large and gaping near the top. To the bottom hole he attached a spigot made of fine brass inlaid with precious stones. To the middle hole, he took the metal plate he had removed to make the hole and made it into a door, attaching it to the funnel with fine-crafted hinges and giving it a handle of burnished bronze. Finally, to the top hole he attached a large flap of metal to assist The Reaper in her task.
Itja-Rek had realized that the current arrangement he had with the Reaper was untenable... his supply of souls was still sufficient, yet his exarch was addicted to the power he had given her, and kept bringing more souls. The God was loathe to throw them away, and so this solution.
It was a soul-container to store the extra souls that Itja-Rek did not need. He estimated it could carry many thousands of souls, however the best part of it was what happened to the souls near the base of the container. The pressure of all these souls in this small area would lead to the blending and combining of the souls at the bottom, liquefying them into the pure essence of creation itself. Itja-Rek smiled proudly to himself, and half-turned to join the others before stopping and returning his attention to his new device. Quickly, he reached into his head and plucked out one of his souls and placed it in a metal cage before opening up the wall and placing it within. He then connected the soul-cage to the device. Now, when new souls were added, the soul trapped in the cage would sense the number added and, obeying the instructions he had left it, give the Reaper a hit of proportional size. He quickly replaced the wall before the soul-cage and left to rejoin the others.
As he stepped out of the chamber, he nearly ran into Aaviz.
"Aaviz! You startled me. Please, come in. The Mother is already here." he said, gesturing to the doorway to the central chamber and herding the wizard through.
4 PP: Create Artifact: The Soul Distillery. Stores souls and produces Genesis PP through a process you really don't want to think about too much.
Absalom had dutifully been walking through the Mushroom Kingdom listening to Fiona’s rather sparse account of the tale, but what she said stopped him in his tracks. “Proposal, Gods, Bad Stuff!!! Big Sister do you mean to tell me that you are engaged?”
The God of Beauty was immediately drawn to the drama and potential poignant nature of this episode, and he felt compelled to uncover more. Turning his head upwards as far as he could in an attempt to look at Fiona on his shoulders, Absalom said “Big Sister if you are betrothed then do you not think we should go visit this ‘Itja’. He might be worried about you, surely if he was compelled to seek your hand in matrimony he had honorable intentions, perhaps spurned by the magnanimous glory of your soul?”
“We must find him immediately and seek to settle any disquieting thoughts he might be having. To lay his heart to rest by letting him know you are safe, and better than ever!!!”
“Besides,” Absalom said as almost an afterthought, “Wouldn’t a wedding be fun?”
With that Absalom’s arachnid legs bent at the knees and, drawing forth their strength, launched the two Gods high into the air. They soared through the sky, the Triskellion and Mushroom forest and even Absalom’s new lands shrinking far below. Simultaneously, the glowing canopy of one of the Waltzing Mountains drew closer and closer.
Drawing his arachnid legs into himself, and grabbing onto the legs of Fiona with his arms, the Golden God tucked and rolled, turning full over at least three times before extending a leg to catch the two deities upon one of the thin branches of the glowing violet trees.
Absalom stood back up and let go of Fiona, and then glanced skywards towards the lands that they had just left, lands that now rested overhead. “So…. Um…. Where might we find this Itja?”
"Let's do that again!" exclaimed Fiona when she'd caught her breath, "Oh, Itja, let's find Itja, he's... somewhere..."
She swung her head around wildly as if attempting to spot the Spirited One. But, despite straining her eyes and craning her neck as much as eyes and necks are want to be strained and craned, she could not spot his distinctive silhouette. It seemed suddenly odd to her that, despite his intention to marry her, Itja had never revealed where he liked to spend his free time. Come to think of it, in the short time they'd known each other, he hadn't had a chance to share anything with her. Ah well. Who needs common interests when one has a marriage keeping you together?
"Oh, I don't know, he should be around here somewhere," muttered Fiona impatiently, for she longed to be in the sky again, "We could check the Bottom or something..."
She sighed. So this wasn't going to be as easy as she'd originally hoped.
"Hmmm," mumbled Absalom to himself as he looked about and attempted to think of something...
Jumping again and again from mountain to mountain, the God of Beauty kept an eye out for anything that might betray the presence of this elusive God. "Where was the last place you saw him, perhaps we should try looking there?"
Before Itja-Rek could say anything, he whipped his hat off and jumping into it. As Itja-Rek stared at it, he reached out, gripped the edge, and with a single pull, pulled the hat into itself. Arriving outside in the light, he stood there in the open, a cold wind passing over him as he stared into the bright light, letting it blind his eyes, the pain overwhelming the head ache he was suffering.
"Rotten, ill-timed, horrid luck. Still, I suppose now is a good a time as any."
Leaning down to grab his hat, he instead reached inside on a whim, pulling out a bundle of papers. Nodding, he flipped through them, muttering to himself. "Hm, Omega Mark X, no, no, much too dangerous. Phyrexian Hulk, no, too undead. Kraid . . . . . something like that, but this one is too unique and too sunlight focused. Steam Powered Harvester, no, no, no one really uses steam right now."
SHoving the bundle of papers back into his hat, he pulled out another, glaring at them critically. "Stone Golem, to small and not intelligent enough. Skimmers, been there, done that. Hm, a couple of clockwork creature prototypes, but I think those are best saved for another day. Oh! CLockwork dreadnoughts. I had forgotten I had the designs for those, but still, not appropriate for what I have in mind."
Setting the papers aside, he scratched his chin for a moment, considering the problems. Blinking, he came to a solution. Reaching back into his hat, he pulled some blank paper as well as the designs for Kraid. Copying several parts of Kraid's design, he borrowed a few magical incantations from the creation of the hulk, shell designs from the clockwork creatures, then finally the mental programming protocols for skimmers. Frowning at them a moment, he recalled previous issues with them. Standing up, he started drawing on the air, furiously scratching away as he left behind glowing blue runes in his wake as he worked out the solution to the problem.
Satisfied with the mental design, he snatched up the loose papers and began molding and blending the various concepts together. Goblin clockwork shells needed to be toughened and enlarged, the hulk's magical incantations needed to be reworked to remove any trace of necromancy, and of course, the Kraid model needed to have it's sunlight dependency reworked.
Finished with the model, he looked about for materials. Clapping his hands in excitement, he scattered into dozens of pieces, each one rapidly growing into a full copy as they scattered through the mountains and surrounding area for the metal, stone, and organic material he would need. For several long moments, the glowing designs floated in the air alone, the wind picking slightly at the forgotten hat and bundles of paper.
FInally, he return from every direction, gathering all the materials into one place. Many of the copies leapt to work, placing, shaping, and hardening the materials as needed. Others stood over by the designs in the air, each furiously arguing that one part or another was wrong, that this calculation had been messed up, or this number should have carried there.
Finally, it was all done, and the original stood before the assembled creatures, banishing the copies with a snap of his fingers and a puff of smoke. "And so, they are almost complete. Just need to get the spark of life in there, and that shouldn't be too difficult."
SHaking his head, he carefully linked his fingers together and bent outwards, sending a small series of echoing cracks. Leaning back, he cracked his back, then pushed his sleeve up and gave the constructs a baleful glare. Finally he threw both his arms out, fingers splayed wide, letting a dazzling stream of lightning bolts flare outwards, raining down upon his new creation. For several seconds he crackled with glee, then suddenly he stopped and his eyes widened in the light. Even as he pulled his hand back and started to turn, the pent up energy exploded outwards, rocking the mountainside with it's force, sending the earth and the tomb quaking for miles around.
Laying against a nearby wall, the stunned god managed a few words. "Guess the clone was right. That number was wrong"
"Hey, look at that, fireworks," she remarked, and then her head snapped forward, leaving her to suddenly ponder what had caused her to liken it to fireworks, and even moreso to ponder what exactly fireworks were in the first place.
When she was quite satisfied that she had not uttered anything amiss, she opened her mouth again, "Maybe Itja's over there? Wouldn't hurt to check."
A blue light shined out towards the left side of the Triskelion. Draekan decided to investigate. He walked out towards the light and saw a large, blue dorrway leading to some odd place. Then he saw a vision of the colosseum. He took his mount and they both jumped through the doorway.
"WAAHOOOOO!!!"
Poliphas stepped forward from the shadows where he was listening. He nodded in agreement at Syreene.
"This oath sounds... promising, no jest intended. I am a Creator, not a Destroyer. A Protector, not an Aggresor. What does this Oath entail, for I have not heard it spoken? I am a god of my word, so I do not give it lightly."
Poliphas frowned at the sudden explosion in the Sunshade Mountains. He frowned in confusion.
"I don't remember putting any volcanoes there."
It is an old tree. Ancient even. Its seeds were planted an age ago, before the end of a world entire, before the birth of a new one. It is an oddity, to be sure, even amongst the strange that lurk here. It's great leafy boughs are hung with foliage as leafy boughs are oft to be. But they are hung with something else as well. Something altogether more magical. Eggs, you see, the most precious cargo to be carried by anything. By definition, they are the seeds of life. An odd sort of legacy for the Queen of Death.
A rather aburpt ripping noise broke the stillness of the air, followed by a sudden crash. An egg had falled from the sky. No, not the sky, from the tree itself. The little thing rolled in a meandering manner down the great roots of the great tree. A hollow formed by two crossing roots stopped the egg's journey, nestling the delicate sphere within its embrace. Even after release, the tree protects its own.
A crack. Like a gunshot it rang out in the stillness of the forests. But the mushroom stalks swayed on unaware, or perhaps just uncaring, of the life now blossoming betwixt them. They cast their long shadows in a pattern over the egg that twisted and danced as the stalks swayed and the little egg trembled. Something was coming.
The birthing itself was rather uneventful, rather unlike normal birthings it that regard. Still, in this alien world it seemed rather difficult to discern exactly what normal was. It certainly wasn't that ragged old thing that tumbled from the wreckage of it's egg, swearing and sputtering as it went. It was like a bat or something, all flapping and waving.
"Taroooo!" warbled the thing as it flopped and flapped about, "Tarooo!"
Soon it became rather apparent that this thing was not a bat. It seemed to be wrapped in some sort of envelloping shroud. Heavy and deep maroon, the cloak thing smelled strongly of rancid milk and eggs. Not surprising given the fact that it was likely still soaked in birthing juices. The being itself, however, if it could be called a being, was small and gnarled, like an ancient tree or a venerable crone. It certainly had thebody shape and haggard disposition of an old person, but its body seemed to be covered in thick, leathery bark. Or perhaps the thing was actually made of wood. The creature gave its pitiful cry again and then flopped, apparently lifelessly, onto the forest floor. Being born certainly took a lot out of you.
4 PP (1 from Egg Tree) - Ascend Exarch - Tarot, a venerable old crone with bark for skin. She provides Genesis PP.
With a cry of desparation, The Reaper threw herself beyond the doorway, slamming it shut as the shockwaves from the explosion smashed into the decorated metal not seconds after it was shut. From where she was, she could feel the explosion through the door that she was holding shut, but further into the tomb, there was no indication of any sort of event. As the devastation beyond ceased, the Reaper breathed a sigh of relief and slithered off to a side chamber to rest after her long journey.
Behind her, the door opened a tiny crack, no longer held in place by the exarch.
Umbart stood from his rest and dove into the lake of magma at the bottom of the great chamber. He began to swim in circles around the lake and as he did so the magma began to swirl. Slowly at first, but the chains running through Umbart and the magma beat at the lake. Faster he swam and faster the magma swirled.
The pulling and tugging on the chains as Umbart swam, pulled and tugged on mamga though out the world. This new energy churned the magma and the pressure grew. The magma struggled and strained from its bonds. The Magma first burst forth at the points furthest points in the world. New formed volcanoes spewed forth lava into the veil of water along both the top and bottom rims of the world.
As the fiery lava met the water of the veil, great plumes steam billowed forth. Great clouds drifted over the land and brought rain to areas that had not seen it before. The eruptions were brief and the rains did not last much longer. The stunned and amazed residents of the world barely had time to marvel at the rain before it stopped again.
As Umbart swam he began to pull the very fabric and flow of the world with him. The eddy that consumed the whole lake of magma now had a life of its own only to be slowed when a god called the power that surged within the lake. With a finally lap Umbart descend to the bottom of lake.
Upon reaching the bottom Umbart dove straight up at the roof of the chamber. The magma followed behind the god and as the world stretched to accommodate it, a piller of unending light and fire was born. The magma splashed back down on the ledge the Umbart had built before drenching it in liquid stone that carved channels back to the pool below.
Tired from his swim Umbart once again fell to torpor with waves of magma washing over him. As Umbart's concentration drifted in and out he dreamed. A new heart for himself filled his dreams for he longed to be free. At the edges of dreams the beginnings of children yet unborn entered his mind. Umbart had never desired a race in his own image, but some how he knew he needed one. Some how he knew it was right.
1/6PP
-4 (1 from chains) Mold: Volcanoes erupt all around the both the upper and lower rims. (about 500 total)
-1 create world artifact: The forge of the gods, two more to go.
As Absalom soared through the sky with Fiona on his back, a crippling shockwave slammed into him and sent the two Gods spiraling off course. The floating mountain that the God had been soaring towards twisted out of his vision and the two deities swirled freely through the sky, unabated by any direction or drive. Scanning quickly for something to latch onto, the Golden God saw one of the massive roots that anchored the two bowls of the world into a sphere.
Spreading his arms and legs wide in order to level out his body, Absalom then tucked all of his limbs in and began to dive towards the world root. As the Gods drew nearer, the roots local field of gravity began to take over and instead of flying the Gods began to fall. Pulling another midair summersault the two deities came to rest on the granite root.
Looking up, Absalom saw a large mushroom cloud sprouting from one of the mountain ranges and heard Fiona’s suggestion. “Well big sister, it seems as good a place as any to continue this search. Though I think we have had enough jumping for now.”
Standing on his humanoid legs then drawing forth a sliver of power, the two Gods vanished with a popping sound…… and appeared a fraction of a second later in the midst of a blasted crater within a series of tall mountains, with a blazing sung hanging closely overhead. Looking about, Absalom’s eyes were immediately drawn to a large grayish tan building that seemed to have the weight of eons hanging about its columns.
Stepping forward, Absalom saw that the door was slightly ajar. Reaching out with his left hand whilst he hoisted Thucydides in his right, the Golden God slowly pushed open the door to reveal a dark hallway with strange iconography inscribed along the walls. Taking barely three steps in, the God of Beauty felt a slight shift in the tile he stood on and his divine hearing caught a strange rapid searing of clicking come from beyond a nearby wall.
Suddenly several dozen serrated arrows launched from slits in the wall towards the two deities from both sides of the hallway. Faster than a bolt of lightning Absalom responded, swinging the milky white vorpal blade to deflect some of the arrows whilst dancing between the others. In the span of less than a second 8 of the projectiles had been shattered against the Gods blade whilst another dozen lay embedded in the walls where the deities had stood just a second before.
“Big Sister I am not sure we are welcome here…..”
Caltabactos snuck away from the conversation. While he did like the idea of peace among creators, he would not bind himself to any agreement. It ruined a potential for change.
Instead, he found the conflict among the eladrin and mindflayers to be the most interesting. It seemed to be almost at a standstill. The potential was noticable: helping either side could have drastic effects. It didn't require much contemplation for Caltabactos to decide which side he wanted to have the advantage. Syreene and Sonnet had always been pleasant to him, and he respected their people. Grinning wildy, he descended down as a hand, spreading his fingers out and flexing them excitedly.
---
Vanisha slowly stalked the thick vegetation of the Triskelion with her eyes and ears open for any signs of life. She was a scout for the Virago, who needed to know the happenings of the forests. Mindflayers were becoming an issue, and proper defenses were necesary if they wanted any hope of overcoming the threat.
On the outside she appeared focused, but on the inside there was a storm of turmoil. Every day she did this, she risked her own life. What would her mother think if she went missing? What about the clan? Would they even care?
Her thoughts were interrupted by the rustling of leaves to her left. She immediately turned around, bow drawn and arrow notched, to the source of the sound. There was nothing. He entire body was shaking and a bead of sweat slowly rolled down her smooth face.
Was it... was it just a dobbit, then?
Before her nerves returned, another rustle sounded behind Vanisha, who turned around immediately and caught a glimpse of movement, but no solid shape. She was frightened beyond words at this point. She wanted to scream, but nothing came out. While the Virago was planning some way for her to escape, something moved in her peripheral vision. She tried to turn to the threat as fast as possible, but whatever it was knocked her onto the ground.
It was a hand.
Vanisha looked at the hand that was now on her chest with equal terror and confusion. What could that hand possibly be? A trick of the mindflayers? Before she could completely get a hold of the current situation, the hand crawled up to her shoulders, moved its second finger, and touched her mind. Literally.
The hand quickly scampered off, leaving the frightened eladrin on the ground with a bleeding hole in her skull. Blood poured out between her two eyes, but she could see it. She could not even see the forest. Her sight was being clouded by visions: scattered images rather than the gestalt. They came to her in flashes, each one bringing a jolt of pain.
A mother carries her daughter, crying. The child is dead, missing a section of its skull, black ichor flowing out. A burning red blade lies next to the trunk of a large tree, glimmering eerily. A dobbit sniffs the weapon curiously and scampers off. A mindflayer lies on the cold ground, choking on its own blood. Two more of its kin fall to the ground; their corpses being the last thing he would ever see.
Vanisha woke up with a fright. She looked around, dazed for a moment. She slowly touched her forehead which had an interesting bruise (not that she would know. It is difficult for one to see what their forehead looks like.) in the shape of an infinity sign. The Virago got up without a word, and headed off in a direction that her mind told her to follow. She remembered the path, despite never walking it, and set off. She smiled as she saw the blade of her visions, and picked it up.
It felt... mad.
2 PP - Forge Artifact - The Mindblade. More info later. What is important is that it causes the wielder to go somewhat insane, causing all mind affecting abilities to return to the caster/manifester.
The Tomb
"Do you... think we were expected?" asked Fiona, sounding apprehensive.
Her arms wrapped tightly around the other one, Fiona gazed down at the splintered arrows, her eyes as wide as saucers. Her gaze flicked to the walls where she could barely make out slots from where the arrows had been fired. She looked back at the arrows and was struck by a sudden thought. In an instant she had scampered down from her lofty perch. Straight across the floor she went, right up to the fallen arrow. She glanced up at the other god for a moment before looking back to the arrow. She didn't touch it, just examined. Finally, she leaned down, gave a hearty sniff...
And began to sneeze and splutter. Dust swept up by the flurry of movement filled her nose and throat, causing her to sneeze repeatedly. "Well that didn't work," she remarked.
She returned to look at the arrow, and considered her options. Finally, she plucked up the arrow gingerly from the dusty ground. She held it up to her nose and gave a gentle sniff this time.
"No, it smells old, of dust and of age and of less tangible things," said Fiona, and she looked up as she spoke, "Whomever that trap was laid for or by, they're certainly long gone."
Then a sudden shifting not far away from the pair caused her to glance up, tense, ready to attack. She dropped the arrow and scrambled back up little brother's back. If a fight was to be had, she'd want to be behind him.
Hearing a massive explosion behind him, he suddenly turned around. Hovering in mid-air, he tries to see if any damage has been done. Seeing that nothing had been destroyed, yet unable to see if anyone might be hurt, he mentally sent a telepathic probe to Aaviz to see if he is all right. Noticing that he is unconscious, yet otherwise all right, he tries to sense the other gods. Picking up on all sorts of mixed feelings from all over the place, he stops as he loses some altitude. "He will be all right I believe."
Finally arriving at the godspire, he calls out "are there others here? I felt presences here, and I wish to meet."
"Sheesh! I didn't know it took all that time just creating a new home." She flew up towards the sky and noticed some spiraling structure up ahead. It looked similar to the Pillar of Creation, but it had a different feel. The spire had a current of water that surrounded the tall structure. She decided to go explore the new creation. She flew towards the Godspire, and noticed the dragon god up ahead.
The Reaper, once known as Susan, had been awoken by voices coming from the hallway. The emaciated naga with the blue-shot eyes and drooping scales that were, in fact, losing their stiffness and becoming soft like leather rather than hard like, well... scales.
She slithered... well, slithered was putting it graciously. Perhaps more... slumped. She slumped her way to the door frame and beyond, spotting the encroaching pair... an odd golden humanoid-spider-thing and a small girl clinging to his back.
"You... Do Not... Belong... Here." She said, words spilling out along with a sizable amount of spittle which flecked the stone between her and the others with red splotches of blood. "My... Master... Wants Privacy."
Sorry, Kal, I didn't realize your god was there; Harkon already left, so he couldn't hear your interest in the offer.
Just hovering there for a mere moment, he decides to land on the godspire while waiting to see if there would be a response. Not having to wait long, he notices a newcomer to the spire. "Hello to you! I am Astriluxus. I am new to these lands. Who might you be?"
Standing regally erect and proud, with his chin tilted at a haughty angle, Absalom’s golden form cut an imposing figure when compared to this… beast… that stood before the two deities. The creature was an odd one, with a single long reptilian tail, but two arms and some other anthropomorphic features. Something about it seemed sickly though, the scales that covered its body seemed to be calcifying and flaking, its eyes had the cast of an enslaved fanatic with a mind partially trapped in another world, and the body moved in jagged jumps and starts, all of which made the God of Beauty uneasy.
Stepping between Fiona and the beast, Absalom called out “Who are you, and who is your master that he would seek to deny two God’s entrance to this place?”
"Gods. What use... are Gods?" The Naga spit vehemently (or at least it seemed that she wished it to be vehement... it sorta came out... droolfully) on the ground. "They... are as... nothing to my master... who... controls the very... fabric of happiness... the very music... of... creation... the very... essence of... beauty... the very..."
The naga trailed off, head drooping, clearly exhausted from the recitation. After a few moments, the beast's eyes re-opened and stared ferally into Absalom's eyes.
"Itja-Rek is mine, and no one will take him from me!"
The naga swelled up to her full height... for a moment... then drooped once more.
Absalom smiled devilishly at the words of this…thing. “It seems we have found our quarry big sister.”
Stepping forward towards the being before them, Absalom assumed a less threatening posture and instead seemed to settle into some pretense of civility. “I would ask that you inform your master that his betrothed, the Queen, and her royal attendant are here seeking an audience.”
The exarch thought for quite some time, the thoughts trickling through her damaged brain like a rat trapped in a very confusing maze that was also half-filled with molasses and also mousetraps. At long last, the thinking finished.
"very... Well. Come... With me." The Reaper wheezed, leading the gods down through the Tomb, around the various traps and finally to the central chamber.
Itja-Rek looked up from where he was conversing with The Mother and Cruias, and spotted the Reaper as the two others.
"I'll get to you in a moment", he said to the Naga before turning to Absalom and Fiona.
"Hello. You two have the feel of gods about you, but I am not certain we have met. I am Itja-Rek, and these are The Mother and Cruias. What brings you to my Tomb?"
If a Mouther had a nose, it would use it to sniff out food. Alas, Mouthers lack noses, yet they do not lack in prey.
If a Mouther had eyes, it would use it to see food. Alas, Mouthers lack eyes, but they do not lack in prey.
So how, one might wonder, does a Mouther eat? They have teeth for it, certainly, and a mouth, if little else, but they seem to lack any means for telling edible things apart from that which is not. Let me tell you then, friend, the secret of mouther success. They do not lack in prey because they do not lack in things to put in their mouth. Occasionally they'll get lucky and what they try to eat will be food, but more often than not, it is not food at all. But if you put everything you come across into your mouth, eventually you'll find something to scrunch.
As Aaviz lay at the threshold to Itja-Rek's tomb, indeed even as Absalom and Fiona had to step over his barely-living form, a Mouther murblied and wurblied through the area, chomping on what it could find. It came to the wizard's hat and though it didn't taste tasty, the Mouther found it soft and so swallowed. It came to the wizard's head and though it didn't taste tasty, the Mouther found it scrunchable.
Its mortal teeth couldn't harm the god's noggin, but it drooled and upon the god's clothes it was slobberin'. it slurped and it shucked with such frothy glee that indeed through the door, through the tomb, the sound lurked, causing the gods inside to ponder, to wonder what it i could be.
Sitting astride Absalom's shoulders, Fiona seemed all at once loftily regal and hopelessly infantile. These two perceptions crashed over one another as she squirmed there, apparently pondering how to voice the thoughts creeping up inside her. She glanced up for a moment, but a sudden blush breaking out across her face forced her head back down. She tried again, only squinting this time. Hopeing, perhaps, that less visibility would cut off the blushing effect. No such luck. Finally, she resorted to speaking to her fiance while staring at the back of Absalom's head.
"Well, um, I'm the Queen, okay?" she muttered, apparently her vocal cords constrained by the same force that had averted her gaze. God, why was she so nervous? She supposed it must come along with her current disposition. That or the imminent thought of marriage was shutting down her mental faculties.
And yet, she still managed to force her head up to deliver the rest of her speech. She could feel the eyes of all the others boring into her, could feel them in her peripheral vision. But for now she had only eyes for Itja.
"So, I came... well, we came all this way to... to your Tomb and... um..." apparently still flustered, she tripped over her words, "I'd like to get married now please."
Now Mouthers are creatures, you see, of this one must be quite clear. They prey on others, but are in turn preyed upon. So it is of no surprise that when one has found a meal-like object that it might want to eat in safety, particularly if that meal-like object is as un-food-like as Aaviz. So slurping him along, the Mouther began to move towards the safest-seeming place it could feel; the inside of the tomb. A few darts whistled over head, a giant boulder may have rolled on by, but at last the Mouther thought it was safe.
It was then that it happened to back into the legs of a strange, beautiful god, Absalom (or so the mouther might have called it if it had a brain to know and a brain to say). Surprised by its good luck, it tried to gnaw on his leg as well as Aaviz's head, at the same time, together, at once.
Reaching down and grabbing the mouth-thing with one hand and the deity with his other hand, the God of Beauty held them both out before him and asked their hosts "Do either of these things belong to you?"
"Here? Now? Are you... This is a Tomb... and you're... different than... and I'm not... Dressed! Right, not Dressed... And... Oh! Yes, thats Aaviz and that... well, that looks like Harkon's mouth and... HARKON, CAN YOU HEAR ME?"
All of these words came flying out of his mouth at high speed. Perfectly intelligable (as Itja-Rek was a god, after all), but very, very, very fast nonetheless.
In his head, his mind was buzzing back and forth, split between several warring portions... which in his mind meant that there were actually souls fighting one another for dominance. What was he going to do? This was... well, he had not really expected this... a sizable fraction of his brain was screaming at him that even though this being before him was a goddess and could change appearance at will, marrying a seeming child was icky and wrong. Another portion of his brain was attempting to note that The Monarch WAS a Goddess, and therefore, what was the big deal? And then there was another faction just shouting that the whole idea was nonsense anyways and he was an idiot for thinking it up in the first place.
So instead of doing anything productive, he yelled at the Mouther.
"WHY IS AAVIZ FOLLOWING ME, HARKON? WHY ARE YOU EATING HIM?" He shouted.
My, the Itja-Rek was certainly paying a lot of attention to her wasn't he! Going off to speak with his... she had no idea who that odd looking naga was, but she looked... sad. And tinkering about with those souls of his... oh well, she'd made him wait a lot longer as she made her Children than he was taking doing his own work. Though the Mother confessed work not in the form of making Children was somewhat mystifying to her. Well, she HAD done work before, but all in the name of Children... even the Shallows had been intended to be a home for her Children, or some of them anyway. She really had to get around to doing that someday...
But she wasn't lacking in things of interest, here came two new Mothers! Well... one new Mother. She was sure she knew the scent of the smaller Mother... she was cute as a larvae, and the Mother just wanted to spoil her and play with her and just enjoy the cute little humanoid! But she smelt... flowery, and like dresses, and the metallic smell of jewelry. For some reason it put her on edge, and... ah... so THAT was why. This little girl was the Queen given another form! And she was STILL intent on marrying the Itja-Rek!
The Mother wanted to mean, to be bitter, but... well, she respected the process of mating, and she couldn't be so cruel even to a Child who was not a Child. It was not in her nature to hurt the young, even with words.
"That is..." the Mother attempted to say ANYTHING positive about the union. "Very brave of you to come to such a place for the sake of your mating, especially after we were so cruel to you... I apologize for that, by the way," the Mother said sincerely... the Queen might not be worthy of being the Itja-Reks mate, but he HAD proposed to her, not the other way around... the Mother could hardly fault her for accepting his offer. She did want to impale HIM on a leg right then though.
The Mother had to say something about the newly formed age gap though. "I have to wonder though, the Queen, is it possible for one with a body without a fully developed reproductive system to offer herself up as a mate?" the Mother asked. "I can understand why it would not be overly a problem in the mental and spiritual, but in the physical... although I suppose the Itja-Rek also has difficulties in that regard," she admitted with a slightly sad look over at him.
((Edit: Ninjad, so added))
The Mother let out a fair few displeased pheromones at the Itja-Reks response to it all though... honestly, if he didn't want to do this, he should say so. If he did and he was just nervous, he should say that too. But he should NOT just ignore his possible future mate like that! "The Itja-Rek," she thought at him with a glare. "I appreciate you concern for the Aaviz, but do you not have more pressing concerned to deal with? I do NOT think your future mate would appreciate you ignoring her like that!" She knew SHE wouldn't.
"MATING!?!"screamed the little girl, horror-struck, "That's... EWWWW... EEWWWWW!"
She opened her mouth and stuck her tongue out, moving it around as if trying to rid it of a disgusting taste. Words could not express the sheer revulsion that had risen up inside her like a tidal wave of frothy sewage. Her insides seemed to twist and squirm.
"With.... with a boy!?!" she managed to shout, as if the very idea was horribly foreign and alien to her very essence, "With that boy?!?"
It was like waves of grossness were just crashing over her now. When she had considered marriage, it had been in the form of every little girl's dream: that of gigantic poofy dresses, extravagant floral arrangements and a giant house with lots of kids and pets and a master bedroom with his and hers twin beds. She hadn't even begun to consider the implications of how they would get kids. The thought of kissing Itja hadn't even crossed her mind. And yet the Mother had jumped straight over that and arrived at mating?!? Like two dobbits!?! It was overwhelming to say the least.
"That's just gross!" she shouted, feeling as though this was the absolute understatement of the century, "I'd get... I'd get... cooties!"
Itja-Rek attempted to pull himself together.
"But... you are right, Mother. Half my brain screams that this is wrong in every way, and so I act like a bufoon. And I'll have you know that if I so desire, I could very much so... mate."
"Monarch... you do understand that the Mother has a point. Marrying someone a lot younger than you, or a lot older than you, also gives you cooties. Did you know that? Perhaps if you could become older... again... then we could be married without any cooties at all."
Mouther's have no ears to hear, nor a brain to understand what it might be hearing, so the poor mouther flurbled and flustered in Absalom's grasp, curious as curious could be as to where its nom had gone.
It writhed, it wriggled, it flounced with each and every ounce, yet from the god's hand freedom wasn't to be found. Curious, it bent itself up and tried to eat what was holding it, as that seemed a prudent thing to do, insofar as possible food would go. Alas, god flesh isn't for noming and though its teeth did not hurt him, they did sink into the mouther's own form.
Shocked with pain it flung itself about, accidentally slapping all gods near it a few times before calming down.
Terrified and confused it let out a long, low, moutherish wail, "mrrruuuuaaaaaggghhh."
"But I don't wanna!" she cried, and whatever sense of authority she previously was blown away by that one infantile statement, "Why don't you change?"
She raised her eyebrows and appraised Itja dispassionately. This was certainly not how she had seen this going.
Absalom smirked and did everything in his power to keep from bursting into laughter at the scene. Six Gods gathered together squabbling about such trivial matters as appearance. “Itja-Rek might the souls of your being also object to being enslaved to your consciousness or being forged in such a semblance? Surely if they retain such aesthetic prejudices as regards a child they also strongly desire to possess a more familiar and appeasing form of their own?”
“We are Gods!!!” Absalom open his arms widely and gestured to all the assembled beings. “Physical appearance is negligible to us, it is practically a non-factor. Our forms are merely a reflection of our inner beings, a persona we choose to represent to the world. Big Sister’s new form is merely a more accurate depiction of her being at this time! It is likely a far more honest one than any of ours, for we stand here believing ourselves magnanimous and wise when in affect we are all still children!!! “
Unfortunately, Absalom had forgotten that he was holding things we he thrust his arms out and turned to encompass the room. When he did so, the Mouth and the Aaviz both spun a little and smacked against two of the cyclopean pillars of this place, smashing the mouth into a pulp and the other being shattered the pillar he impacted, sending dust and fragments spiraling through the room.
“Uh… My apologies….”
Opening his eyes slightly, Aaviz reached up, holding his head. "Ow," he muttered, "that hurts a lot more than I expected. Really need to be more careful in my mathematical calculations when using lightning and raw energy in my experiments. The reaction was quite a bit sizable then I had thought it might be, not to mention more energetic and destructive. I do hope the prototypes were not damaged in the blast. Now what is all this gods blasted shouting about?"
Finally opening his eyes more fully, he glanced around. "Oh. A meeting. I see. Reminds me of that time all the gods gathered in discussion in this other world I was in. Something about one of their former members having corrupted another of their kind. The meeting deviled into lots and lots of yelling and arguing before everyone finally agreed to take an oath not to interfere with the poor guy and let him figure out his own path."
Scratching his forehead, he questioned himself. "How did that end up anyways? Oh," he exclaimed, "thats right. He ended up becoming deciding to not be on anyones side except for his own, working with anyone as circumstances decided. He was such a nice young man too, always wiling to help an old man out with his experiments."
"So, anyways, what is going on? Anything a wizard can help out with? If not, anyone care to lend a hand bringing a bunch of prototype life to . . . well, life? And why am I floating in the air? I don't recall casting a flight spell. The last thing I remember is an explosion."
Reaching up to his head, his eyes widened. "And where is my hat?"
While Umbart slept his subconscious sensed what it needed, divine energy. The movements of his heart began to rattle the chains linked to it. Reaching the roof of the chamber, the chains carved a hole through to surface of the Godspire.
The earth crumbled and collapsed beneath a river and and two gods also present in their. A great waterfall entered the chamber and competed with the pillar of fire. Water fell, fire rose, as the elements fought and competed, small place where the all four elements were in balance. This small core would great enhance the efforts of a god's crafting, if only it could be harnessed. The forge that Umbart had in his mind was nearly complete. The power was there, the resources were present, the tools to craft were absent.
Astriluxus and Schi'vya were caught in the collapsing river and fell into the hole as water began to pour into the chamber far below. The pair of wet gods landed in a heap next to Umbart and woke him. As sunlight filtered into the chamber a tear of joy ran down the ugly god's face. This joy was short lived due to the steam the filled the room as consequence of the meeting of molten earth and misty water. Desperation twisted the features of Umbarts's face and he leapt up the hole the chains and just carved only to brutally yanked back to center of the world by the chains that still held his heart fast. As Umbart was slammed into the ground he grunted in pain.
This cursed heart, I must be free of it.
Umbart cried out to world in anguish, a keening wail of true pain that cried out to all those with divine blood. He tore at his own chest with ferocity born of desperation, but the chains threw him harshly around the chamber and denied him a grasp on his heart. Vainly, Umbart tried to rip the heart of Culthet from his breast, but the desire to live thwarted him. Defeated and battered, Umbart wept as his brief glimps of freedom was taken from him. Slowly the intensity of the god's wail, faded into a weak sobbing as he slumped against the wall.
0/9 pp
-1pp crate artifact: the forge of the gods (one more needed)
Realizing that the unconscious God was now, well, conscious and asking for his hat, Absalom looked around and quickly located it. Within the gooey fleshy pulp of the creature that had splattered against the other pillar, sliding incrementally down the pillar was a pointed rag of a hat. Grabbing the thing with his (now) free hand Absalom quickly placed it on the other Deities head (though for some reason he was still holding him). “There is your hat, sorry about the goo.”
“Now if I may say, perhaps it would be in the interests of both Big Sister and Itja-Rek if, rather than proceeding directly to a wedding, you had some sort of engagement period in which you could get to know each other better? Perhaps you should build a Mushroom Castle Tomb thingy with adjoining suites?”
"Well... worth a try, I guess." He said, beckoning to the Reaper to come forward with her basket. He reached in and took out the soul of a young mindflayer. Ugh. Well, it would have to do. He directed the exarch to pour out the rest of the souls into the Distillery and then return.
The Reaper went, deposited the souls, and returned with the empty basket. Itja-Rek stared intently at the soul before him and then plunged it into his chest. A wave of rippling souls spread from the point of entry, sloughing off of the god and into the basket as Itja-Rek... shrank. He could feel the Otherness within him growing more compact as the number of souls grew less and less. Two baskets, three baskets, four... five baskets later, it was done, and Itja-Rek's body now resembled the young mindflayer, complete with individual souls extended to form the tentacles.
"Now then. Who wants a kiss?" he said mischievously, advancing on Fiona with measured paces.
"Oh, you know, what, to the Bottom with cooties," she said, hardly believeing herself, "I'll kiss you!"
She took a step forward, her heart beating a million miles a minute in her chest. But she was beaming at Itja, her joy practically flowing off of her like liquid gold.
"After the marriage, if you give me time to prepare..." she paused as though allowing the anticipation to build, "I might consider letting you kiss me on the cheek!"
She said this last as though it was the biggest prize anyone had ever handed out. She also looked like it too, all self-satisfied and happy. She even seemed willing to ignore the tentacles if it meant marriage. She spun around and fixed Absalom with her gaze now.
"Little brother... would you walk me down the aisle?"
1) Try and make them squeal and
2) Devour their brains.
Amusingly, these often coincided with one another.
And so it was that the mindflayer-Rek continued to step forward after Fiona had come down to his level, and puckering his lips, he sought out the girl's face, tentacle souls reaching out for the goddesses' brain as well.
While Alkerzilak was developing a method to free Nihiliath from dependency on other sentients, the other Nihilians were developing a method to fight them. Although the eladrin had learned how to defend their minds from psionic assaults, there were other uses for psionics, as the Nihilians were quick to discover. Through meditation, powerful Nihilian psions developed more powerful links between mind and body through a process known as egoism. As a result, their physical and mental attributes were strengthened by each other, turning the once weak, slow, squishy mindflayers into strong, fast, tough killing machines.
After the egoists and Alkerzilak spread their respective inventions to the resst of Nihiliath and Alkerzilak joined the ranks of the egoists, the Nihilians retreated to their settlement to defend themselves from Arborwrath raiders. The Nihilians built walls to ensure that the Arborwrath tribe stayed out.
PP
9/9 + 1 from Ur
-1 PP Nourish Populace Nihiliath: Nihilians specialize in agriculture
-2 PP (1 from Ur) Teach Populace Nihiliath: Nihilians learn how to create growing vats, which allow mindflayer larva to develope bodies on their own. One batch of the chemicals can support 3-5 larva to adulthood.
-2 PP Teach Populace Nihiliath: Nihilians learn egoism, a process to further link mind and body, giving the egoist enhanced physical and mental capabilities. The drawback: although they can suffer normally serious wounds without so much as a scratch, when they do get hurt, their enhanced sense makes them hurt like hell.
-1 PP Nourish Populace Nihiliath: Because the bodies grown in vats are made of new tissue rather than altered old tissue, vat-grown mindflayers tend to be stronger and healthier than normal mindflaers.
-1 PP Nourish Populace Nihiliath: Nihilians specialize in building fortifications that can be easily defended by a small number of soldiers.
It wasn't anything to worry about at first, but the moment he saw the little girl turn her back, he recalled exactly how such creatures fed. Seeing the tentacles already reaching out, he stepped over and touched the mind-flayer on the shoulder, delivering a nasty little static shock. "I suggest you let go. You are a friend, so I'd hate to have to use more force, you know."
"But I was just gonna... You're mean, Aaviz!"
And with that, he kicked the god in the shin and when he was dropped ran off into his Tomb to find somewhere quiet to hide.
Absalom bowed his head solemnly in response to Fiona’s request. “It would be my honor to walk you down the aisle….. Though what aisle are you talking about exactly? And why do you need to be walked down it?”
Come to think of it, the knowledge imparted by truly understanding words meant Absalom understood marriage as a state of being. Wherein this state, two distinct creations became as one in body, mind, and soul, their very lives intermingling and sharing in the entire beauty of existence together. However, understanding the state of being did not necessarily mean Absalom understood anything about the ceremony…..
When this Aaviz place and arm on the little tentacle Itja-Rek, Absalom felt the discharge of energy that must have coursed between them scatter through the air. Before the God of Beauty could inquire as to what was happening though, the two seemed to spark an argument about… eating brains? Itja further into the tomb like the child he had now become, and Absalom was left wondering what had just happened.
“Excuse me Aaviz was it, but what was that about eating brains?”
She smirked. "However, you are forgetting one important thing, my dear friend."
Offering a small frown, he adjusted his hat once more. "Of course, such insanity is usually temporary, since the removal of the brain typically inflicts death mere moments later, and evenif the body survives, the mind isn't there to be insane anyways. But yes, I imagine the soul he used to take that form has taken a bit more control than he intended, probably due to the lack of the controlling crown I crafted for him, as he began to sink his tentacles into her head, a sure sign that he was intending to feed. Though I don't know this young goddess, I certainly didn't want such a thing to occur unless I had a chance to document it for scientific purposes."
Offering a hand to Fiona, he bowed slightly. "I trust your mind and mental faculties are intact and still functioning?"
Well, this was certainly... interesting. Perhaps the Itja-Rek was like the praying mantis, and ate its mates head after the rites had been completed? Although the rites certainly were not complete by any stretch, let alone the actual mating! Huh, when did she start considering the rites of marriage as imperative as the actual process of mating? Doing so to be 'allowed' to mate was still ludicrous to her, but the idea of simply mating for life, and a small ceremony to make it official seemed... nice.
The Itja-Rek seemed to change as much as his mate to- hold on, did this mean that his little speech about how he couldn't enjoy the physical was a lie? If he could take form like that, he certainly could! So he did it for the Queen, but neglected to even mention it for her?! That was... that was.... oooooo!
The Mother shuddered with frustration, letting out a lot of angry pheromones. "Yes well, if the Child Who Is Also Queen still has her brain, I think it best if I attempt to find the Itja-Rek," the Mother noted. "I think its time the new Child got a little look into what happens when you misbehave..."
Shrugging, he frowned. "We should find him though, him and that crown."
"What?" the Mother asked. Oh, right, he probably assumed that was what he was referring to... well maybe best to keep it that way. "Well never the less, if he intends to make the Queen his mate, he should show more respect to her... and he shouldn't kick other Mothers in the shins either!"
Sniffing the air, the Mother scuttled off, following the Itja-Reks scent... he may have changed form, but the odor of his 'pheromones' remained the same.
Seeming to get ahold of himself, he dashed off into the tomb, leaving everyone alone as he chased after the Mother.
"Mr. Aaviz was mean to me." he whimpered to himself. "He's the meanest meanie of them all."
The Mother had been EXTREMELY angry at the Itja-Rek... but... how could anyone be mad at THAT? She instantly felt all her anger melt away in the wake of motherly compassion.
"Shhh, its alright," the Mother told him gently, stroking the top of his head soothingly with the end of one leg segment. "The Aaviz was just trying to stop you from doing something naughty... you don't eat your mate, no matter how tasty they might seem." The Mother 'smiled' gently. "Now, I know you're hungry, and we can find some nice juicy brains for you later... but right now you owe Mr Aaviz and Ms Queen an apology for kicking their shin and trying to eat their brain."
And with that he was gone, making all speed for the tomb entrance.
"I don't wanna go and apologize to him. He's a meanie."
Pout.
"Well playing or not, it was still mean of you to do so to her," the Mother noted. "So you should really... wait, he did WHAT?!"
She really hadn't noticed the Itja-Rek getting hurt in the proceedings... and now every bit of anger she had before was back and directed at the Aaviz. He'd hurt the Itja-Rek? Well, that was very bad, and she was angry about that, but worst of all, the Itja-Rek was currently in the form and mind of a child... so basically, he'd burned a small, innocent Child on the arm. She was going to eat him for REAL this time she swore it!!
"If that is the case," she replied levelly, trying to remain friendly to the Itja-Rek despite how angry she was at the Aaviz. "Then you need not apologize to the Aaviz... merely doing so to the Queen will be more than enough."
Itja-Rek began gesturing wildly, pounding on the ground while complaining about how unfair it was that he had to apologize. The Mother, if she was being perceptive, would notice that each time the god flailed, one finger would flick outwards and etch a small furrow into the sandstone. Slowly but surely as the little god flailed, whined, moaned and tantrumed, a word was spelled: H-E-L-P.
Oh dear... the Itja-Rek WAS a troublesome child. She might have to discipline him after all... but this was rather strange all in all, wasn't it? Even if the Itja-Rek could change forms like the Queen could, and several others of them did, for the most part their personalities remained the same despite their appearance. Certainly the Queen as a Child seemed to be far more... well, childish than she had been as an adult, but even as an adult she was almost as childish as she was now! But this was entirely unlike the Itja-Rek... he was so wise, and so calm, and always seemed to be in total control of himself. It was kind of... cool. This mind flayer, however, seemed to be a slave to its every last little emotion!
What was this? Some sort of... message? Oh the Itja-Rek, what were you trying to say! Help was the message, but how she could or what she could do was beyond her... right, well the first step to getting this under control was to get the mind flayer Child to stop whining! Then maybe the Itja-Rek could maintain some form of control!
"Good Children don't tantrum, and don't avoid apologizing either," the Mother scolded... before wrapping one leg segment around the Child and lifting them up into the air. She REALLY hoped Itja-Rek didn't take this personally... holding the Child up, she tilted him down a bit, before whacking his rear end with another leg segment a few painful times.
"Mother... Help... Cast off... too many souls. This one... anomalously strong. Need Crown. Aaviz!----- Let go! Ow! Ow! Take this!"
The Child-flayer chomped down hard on the constricting leg segment (apparently this flayer had teeth!) and raced off into the darkness.
Hearing Aaviz explain what Itja-Rek was going to do to Fiona, Absalom simply nodded, the black lifeless orbs of his eyes seeming to shift and mould within his form. “I see….”
Reaching back and gently grabbing the Queen, Absalom brought her forward and lowered her down to the ground. Kneeling down on one knee, the Golden God came eye to eye with Fiona and said “Big Sis I am going to go talk to Itja for just one second. You stay here and get to know these nice people,” Absalom flashed a big beaming grin at this point. “After all, they are your betrothed friends, so soon they will be your friends.”
With that Absalom stood up and walked towards the doorway that Itja, the Mother, and Aaviz had passed through. When he came to the threshold, he turned back and said “I will only be a moment and you will safe,” glaring at the other Gods to emphasize the point he was about to say to them, rather than to Fiona, “I promise.”
Stepping through, Absalom followed the sound of voices echoing through the dusty tombs….
*****
Several moments later, when the mindflayer boy that seemed to be possessing Itja-Rek came running around the corner of one of the corridors away from the Mother, he ran smack into Absalom’s humanoid legs.
Leaning down so that he would be closer to eye level, though making sure that he was still looking down at the tentacle face, the God of Beauty said “Hello little one.”
Glancing back towards the chamber that the Mother occupied, Absalom simply stated “I heard the whole thing.” Moving faster than lightning Absalom snatched up the little beast and held him up by the neck at arm’s length facing the Golden deity.
“Itja-Rek, if you are in there and you can hear me, allow me to help. This soul that seems to have overwhelmed you may be unusually strong, but he is only mortal.” As he said these words the Golden face of the Persona seemed to twist and warp. The eye sockets seemed to stretch wider and those black orbs grew larger. Simultaneously, when he had finished speaking, Absalom’s mouth opened wide, and wider, and wider, till it seemed his jaw had dislocated itself and an impossibly black maw was opened which would swallow the small deity.
However, rather than moving the God in, something came out of the Persona’s features. Energy, the cloudlike ethereal insubstantial energy that was Absalom’s true form came out. However, rather than the white glow or dancing colors that normally accompanied the ill-defined substance, this time it came out dark an oppressive, like rolling thunder clouds. The dark energy spread and grew, larger and larger, until it enveloped both deities in its dark miasma.
At first, the illithid soul that currently possessed Itja-Rek was bombarded with shrieking unholy monstrous noises interspersed with utterly alien yet predatory and unnerving clicks. These sounds were accompanied with blinding flashes in the darkness akin to lightning, and each flash revealed some horrible twisted form that would strike a primordial chord of fear deep in the mortal’s soul. This continued for only a second in the passage of the world around them, but for the soul possessing Itja it would have seemed to stretch on for an eternity, that one second dragging on for many times its mortal lifespan.
However the lightning and noise, the show as it were, was only temporary. After little more than a second in the real flow of time it ceased, and instead the mortal was left in the soul crushing oppressive blackness and emptiness that had nearly shattered Absalom’s psyche. This torment would stretch on even longer, as long as it would take to break this little mortal’s will and allow the bodies true owner to regain himself. It might take some time, but the mindflayer would break, after all, it was only mortal……
"Thank you for the assistance Schi'vya." he furls his wings back in after landing softly. "As for your question, I decided to look around this new world, since old-man Aaviz is too busy blowing stuff up and sleeping to show me around. I believed this was a good place to start."
Not wanting to talk about the void incident he notices the weeping god, and his predicament. "pray tell man, what in the name of all the realms caused this?" pointing to the chains in his heart.
He cranes his neck around the area getting a full view. "I see you have also been very busy here."
The Aaviz could help? Then perhaps the Mother could- ouch! Oh that little- easy, easy, he is just a Child, you cannot hold him responsible for his petulance... you could smack it out of him though. No no, best to simply get the crown and... hold on, it was the Golden One With The Two Attractive Legs. What was he doing?
Her curiosity getting the better of her, the Mother allowed the Golden One With The Two Attractive Legs to do what he would... until he started to hurt the Itja-Rek like that! She looked on rather helplessly as he went on though... she could stop him, but what if stopping this... this... whatever he was doing was worse than letting it go on??
~The Wide World of Whatever This Place is Called~
Harkon had left the underwater world of the Mazunti. The seed of order had been planted; they'd eventually grow into a civilization to tame the lingering chaos of the world, but their time had not yet come. Of course, eventually their civilization would fall too, so as to make room for more nations. Such was the order of the world, but he didn't dwell on the far future.
The Lord of Waters swam through the oceans of the world, lazily pushing himself along with his newly created eight limbs, touching the memories of that element, learning of the this and that the waters had seen and heard and felt and knew. The waters of Sairok seemed so much more interesting than those of Korias, but perhaps that would change in time. Then he came to an ocean left over from Mishway and he took joy in those waves. It was as if he was being reunited with a lost half of himself. So many memories, so many dreams and echoes of ages gone. And of forgotten, faded gods. Remnants of these divines stirred as Harkon passed, but that was all. Their origins were gone, only echoes of echoes remained.
Then pain. Fire was set to burn in the god's essence, to burn in his blood and waters. Then more pain, another fire was set. Two who had bound themselves to the Blood Oath were in great distresses. By blood Harkon knew this, but the oath we would see aid done.
Erupting from the ocean, Harkon Armal tried to follow the pain to the oath takers, but they were not in the same place. Need tore Harkon in two directions. One of his eyes floated towards the veil, towards a continent that he hadn't been to before and knew little about. The other went towards the godspire. Need drove him, and so with a crack the god split himself in two. Half his form -- one eye, a mouth, and four limbs -- swam through the air to the godspire. The other half -- an eye and four limbs -- went towards the unknown continent.
~The Caverns of Davos~
Sliding through the cracks in the earth the waters of Harkon came. When he entered the caverns, the vibrant waters rose up and its limbs helped push it along all the quicker until it found its way to Umbart.
Yes, the blood oath sang with pain. Two other gods were there... one looked familiar, but the other was not. Placing himself between those gods and Umbart, Harkon hissed, so as to ward them off. "What are you doing to him?" he demanded.
~The Tomb of Itja-Rek~
The other waters of Harkon darted towards the unknown continent, flickering pass Aaviz with a shimmer in the evening light, and flooded into a structure that he hadn't seen before. Other gods were there, but he didn't have the luxury of paying attention to them. The Blood Oath sang to him of a brother's need.
However, in his hurry he was not unaware of his surroundings. He saw goo that had been a mouther. He paused for the briefest of moments, the span of time it takes a rain drop to realize it isn't a cloud anymore and to start falling towards the earth. His own mouth was with his other half, and as he knew not what danger his blood brother was in, the ability to speak might be useful.
The god's dull waters washed over the goo and it was given new life. It didn't reform into a mouther per say, but the mouth of a god. Satisfied, he hurried on, his limbs tossing obstacles out of the way.
Then he saw it. The body was too small to be Itja-Rek, but the color and changing pattern of its form was the same. And the power of the oath emanated from it. Itja it must be. And there was another god there, it seemed to be causing Itja pain.
Like a wave Harkon crashed upon this unknown god, the talons of his four limbs digging into the curious substance that seemed to be producing the stormy cloud of energy.
"Release him, before my fangs find you," the water god growled, his teeth eager to taste god-flesh. His one eye was so focused on the attacker that he didn't notice the Mother not far away.
2pp towards create Avatar, since gods can't normally be in two places at once. I got admin permission to complete the avatar after the reset
1pp remaining
"At ease wet one. He appears to be in pain, and the only thing I can think of are those chains that are doing it. I do not know what else is going on or what caused his situation, but rest assured that we did not cause it."
~Caverns of Davos~
Harkon raised his waters up, attempting to look as threatening as possible to draw attention away from the gash where his tail should have been. Water oozed from there; his entire form was weak from tearing himself in two. It wound threatened to end him, but he couldn't let this weakness show through.
"Perhaps," he said with false bravado, "but I know he is in pain and you are here. I do not know you, and so I have no reason to trust you or your words."
Umbart moaned. The god's eye swiveled to him momentarily then back. "If you want to earn my trust, then heal him. But don't even think about causing harm, or I'll drink your waters before the day is done."
The god of beauty had overlooked one very key and very unfortunate fact about the nature of Itja-Rek. Yes, this torture was wreaking havoc on the mindflayer's soul that had appropriated his body, as it was mortal. However, every other soul of the god's body was also mortal, and they too screamed in agony at their predicament. Just before the arrival of Harkon, the first soul gave up and fell from the god's body, shriveling up and dissapearing before hitting the ground. Soon, another one fell, then another in an increasing pace. Itja-Rek's mouth opened and shut several times as if trying to speak, yet no words emerged. As more and more souls shriveled and fell off, Itja-Rek, the divine core of this being of souls, wondered what would happen once those souls were gone. He imagined he didn't have long to wait now.
And so the divine Itja-Rek waited, surrounded on all sides by screaming and dying souls.
"No, you dont. It seems the problem with your friend there stems from the chains coming from his chest there. I could try to rip them out, but at the same time it could also kill him. There is nothing that I could do right now to help him without killing him. Just remember wet one, I dont not know you either. For all I know you could have caused this." Moves a foot forward and flares out his wings.
"Could have," Harkon said, "but didn't. He and I are part of a Blood Oath. The power of this runs through his veins, and mine, and the bodies of others too. I know not what you are, god or demon, but surely you can feel the power of this oath, the ties of life and order that connect he and I. This oath lives in our blood, so I could feel when he was in danger. I came to find the danger and found you two. Curious, isn't it?"
~Itja-Rek's Tomb~
"Release him!" Harkon roard. His claws began to scratch frantically against the other god's shell, causing terrible noise but failing to do any damage.
Lackluster water oozed from the god's frame and pooled on the floor.
"Know this that if you can feel the power of life then know that I am The Aspect of Life. I am the Guardian Dragon. The protector of life. I am Astriluxus, God of Dragons. This danger you seek comes not from us, but from your friends very own chest. Look there and know the truth."
"Will you two stop mumbling nonsense?!! This isn't going to get us anywhere!" A flurry of air surrounded the goddess of Wind like a shield. "Why would you think that we would do such a thing, when he himself led us down here? The earth crumbled before us and the next moment we were in here-- not knowing where we were. Next thing we know is this god sobbing because those chains are somehow affecting him. I don't know how or why those chains are stuck within him, but seems to be the real culprit!"
She creossed her arms and the wind disappeared. "By the way, I am Schi'vya, Lord of the Four Winds and the parton of Balance. I believe in no violence to our kin unless we were threatened ourselves."
~Caverns of Davos~
Alas, a god with one ear does not hear too well. "The Gardening Dragon?" Harkon asked, "The projector of rife? What nonsense is this? Are you trying to distract me?"
He dismissively turned away from this "Astral Uxors" person and focused on the other one. "You... you were the one that had Itja-Rek's crown. Having property that doesn't belong to you hardly encourages trust. However, at least you're better with your words that this other one. Very well, let us say that Umbart did bring you two in here. But as for those chains being the cause of his pain, that seems... unlikely," he put it diplomatically.
"It was he," Harkon continued, "who made them in the first place, after all."
The gods one eye darted between the two. There seemed to be a strange structure in the background, as if Umbart had been working on something when he was interrupted, but he couldn't tell what it was.
Absalom could feel it working, he could feel the pressure of the sensory assault slowly crushing and splintering the mind of the illithid brat that controlled Itja-Rek, he just needed a little more time...
Unfortunetly, someone was intent on not allowing him that time. Seemingly out of nowhere a strange liquid substance swam through the air and crashed against the Golden shell of the Persona. The water seemed to have a mouth, and it screamed at the God of Beauty to release Itja whilst dozens of pointed blades of liquid attempted to stab at Absalom's form. The strikes were not causing any real damage to the Golden God, but they were distracting and worse yet every time one of those wet spears struck Absalom's form a white hot lance of pain would course through the darkness that surrounded Itja-Rek and stab into the imprisoned Gods form.
Dozens of weaker souls seemed to be falling away with every strike, but this was too brutal and risked going too far. “Fool you are making things worse,” spat the Golden God as his free hand struck back at the liquid menace, sending cascades of water flying through the room. “I am helping him,” shouted Absalom.
Total oppressive darkness then returned to the little being, a complete lack of sight, sound, taste, and touch, of anything. Sensory deprivation, utter solitude in a world that seemed so empty but yet so hostile. As the souls that composed Itja-Rek shed away from his form, Absalom could feel the only one that mattered splintering, it was mere moments from breaking……..
Itja-Rek's divine mind surged to the fore and spoke directly to Absalom in a thin whispering thought.
"It is I once more, friend. Please. Stop your assault. I fear it will kill me if you go on for too much longer."
Finally Absalom felt that last little nugget of sanity that was holding together the surprisingly strong will of the illithid mortal shatter, and less than a second afterwards he felt the resurgence of Itja-Rek. The dark energy cloud that was part of Absalom's true form had already began to revert to more pleasing colors and withdraw back into the protective envelop of the Persona when Itja-Rek's mental message confirming his release reached the Golden God.
Gently setting the body down on the ground and watching as it began to contort and twist away from the illithid shape, Absalom stepped back and waited to see what would happen next.
The god attempted to push himself upwards with his hands, but his arms buckled, unable to support his weight with the few souls remaining to him. Weakly he rolled onto his back and stared up at Absalom. An arm raised and shakily pointed to a nearby chamber.
"I need to go there. Into the machine." he whispered.
The fact that Umbart was not alone at had gone unnotice by him, but the protectiveness and strength finally reached inside the shell of grief. Umbart was shamed to have shown such weakness in front of others. Yet, he knew he could not let his oath brother fight on his behalf. Slowly Umbart stood.
Hold Umbart they have done my no wrong, but I do not know why they are here.
Umbart shook the chains that anchored his heat. Speaking almost to himself Umbart spoke the those present.
These chains hold me fast and my efforts to be free of them has failed. I shall forever be held away from the wind and sun. I will not know the joy of hunt again. I must stay here for I can not destroy the chains, that would destroy the world. I must stand my vigil here.
Turning and looking and the almost complete forge, Umbart's voice took on a wistful quality.
Where did I go wrong? I thought I could finish it. Now my new heart shall go uncrafted.
With those words and face full of rage and frustration Umbart lifted his hands to destroy his work.
Oh dear Mothers in right there, why had she not tried to stop it?? Surely it would have been worth taking some extra time to get the crown rather than to have the Golden Sadistic Torturer have his way with the Itja-Rek! Especially if this was the result! Surely, he had his mind back, but with such a toll on his body....
Walking over to the Itja-Rek, the Mother shot the Golden Sadistic Torturer with a glare, before picking the Itja-Rek up in her mouth. He was a lot lighter without all those souls... wordlessly, she carried him into the room he had gestured to, waiting for further instruction... was that the machine he had spoken of? It certainly smelled like the Itja-Rek, though for some reason it made her somewhat uneasy...
"I need to go inside that. Open the door or dump me in from the top... I can revitalize myself with the machine."
The Mother nodded in response... before realizing that doing so had no doubt given the Itja-Rek a bit of a painful shake. Hm, talking with ones mouthful was a difficult task...
The Mother attempted to open up the door with a segmented leg, but it was too small, and her leg not designed for such a function... she cursed this body sometimes! As it was, she instead decided to simply drop the Itja-Rek as gently as he could into the top of it... hopefully she didn't drop him too harshly.
Still the souls flowed into the form until the pile was gone, and Itja-Rek lay on the ground. However, the body of Itja-Rek was different. Whereas before his body had been that of an indistinct humanoid, now, his body seemed to share features of many of the different species of the world: a thin ridge of minature tentacles lined his mouth, his ears were slightly pointed, his hands and forearms were covered in what appeared to be fine leaves and his torso with what looked to be fine scales. Blinking furiously, his eyes transformed into compound eyes, and finally came to rest on The Mother. No longer was Itja-Rek a god of past worlds and souls so long-dead that their bodies were hazy memories. Now he was a god of the people of this world.
"Mother. My oldest and best friend. Thank you." Itja-Rek said, getting slowly to his feet and shaking his appendages. "You have always looked out for me when I am... not at my best, and I don't know how to repay you, aside from giving you a promise that if you ever have need of me for any task in the future, no matter how onerous it might be, I will be there."
"There is no need for repayment, the Itja-Rek," the Mother replied, overwhelmed by his gratitude... he really though she was his best friend? The Mother was overjoyed to hear it! "You have done much for me, and I am sure you will do so in the future debt or no... you have a strong character and heart, my friend, and I am sure I can count on you to help me when I need it.. as you should count on me."
Giving the Itja-Rek a small 'smile', the Mother hesitated a moment before nudging him effectively with he head segment. It was about the closes thing to a hug she could give him with her form... though with his even if she had a more humanoid it would no doubt be difficult.
"Thank you again for your kind words. So, what else has happened while I was... otherly occupied? I seem to recall seeing Aaviz racing out of here."
Groaning slightly as he turned over, he looked over towards what had tripped him, determined to blast it to dust. Instead, he let out an echoing whoop and snatched it up. "I finally found it. Took long enough." Snapping his fingers, thousands of copies of him around the world simply vanished since he was done with them.
"Now to get back."
Seeing the half finished construct, an idea came to mind. "I see. You need not a new heart, but a new way to anchor your chains. We will need to finish your.... forge there, I believe you are trying to create. And we'll need materials to build with. I have just the thing as well. Hardest material in all the realms that I know of! Give me a few minutes while I work." And with that he folds his wings in tight, moves over to a section of ground that seems to go deep. He raises his talon up and plunges it deep into the ground creating a massively deep well. In it he drops a few of his scales. Smoke now billowing out from his mouth he incants words to make his fire breath even hotter. Taking a very deep breath, he breathes fire into the well. Fire hotter than anything anyone has known. After the fire subsides, the well slowly starts to fill with a silvery metallic substance. Dipping one of his talons into the new well, he carefully carries the molten hot liquid over to the forge and allows the metal to drip onto it. Incanting a quick spell, he levitates some water over to the forge to cool it down. Finally seeing that he was close to finishing one part, he puts together into his mind what he'll need to finish the rest. Breathing one last breath onto the forge, everyone notices that it gleams with a silver hue, never to break.
Taking a step back he addresses, Umbart "Your forge is complete, as well as a new metal to work with. Unworked, untreated it will stay as a liquid. Put to fire and work it and you'll create something that will last. A holy metal, I'm afraid that after it gets worked, its also a bane to my kind. From this metal we shall create a new ring and a new anchor point. The ring I can create myself, as I'll make it so it binds all of the chains together, but you will have to make a hammer with which to smash the part of the chain closest to you. It should destroy the chain beyond the ring without destroying the ring and the rest of the chain."
With that in mind he slowly walks back over to the well tired and starts thinking about the incantations that he'll need to make the ring.
1 pp= Nourish land: create dragon metal, a holy liquid metal that once forged becomes, holy dragonbane. Similar to adamantium it is silvery in appearance, the well will never run out, but you'll never find this metal anywhere else but near the forge. Unlike adamantium it is as heavy as normal steel, does not ignore hardness. Devastating to dragons and maybe to avatars, it is but a nuisance to most gods, unless you happen to be a dragon. Can only be forged using The Forge.
2PP= Create artifact: helped Umbart finish the forge.
0 PP
The Mother practically purred at the Itja-Reks affection pat... before she had to actually consider his question. What HAD happened? She'd spent all her time running after him!
"Well, you attempted to devour the Queen, which was very touching I have to say." Well it was true, devouring ones mate was awfully touching in some circles... albeit after their marriage has been consummated. "Then the Aaviz left screaming something about evil monsters from beyond destroying us all, personally I think he has had a few more screws come loose than he even had before... I do not know what else, I was busy sp-" She could NOT tell him she spanked him if he did not remember it! "Spending time trying to deal with your Inner Child."
"My Inner Child. Thats a good one, Mother. Well, let us go out and meet my bethrothed... I'm afraid I'm going to have to call this whole thing off."
The puffed up form of Harkon gladly collapsed into a mound of oozing yet sparkling water. His eye and mouth turned to the new gods, "My appologies, then, to both of you, for assuming the worst, though I hope you can understand my reasons. The circumstances did not put you in a favorable light."
He watched as that new god, Astriluxus, coated the forge with his metal. When he finished and stepped back, Harkon oozed closer to examine it. One talon tapped against it, but the ring that was produced sounded dull and muted. "Close, but something's not right. The anvil of a forge should ring clear and loud and true."
With his fingers, Harkon etched spirals and angles into the metal; decorating it with symbols of fire, earth, wind, and, most importantly to him, water. As he did so a glow began to appear above the forge; he was drawing out a portion of divine power that had been put into the object.
When he was done he tapped the anvil again and it rang out crisp and clean; it reverberated through the godspire and along the Chains of Culthet.
Turning to the excess power, the lord of waters split it into three pieces. He took two and dipped them into the well of strange metal, where they bound to it and molded themselves to necessity. From the well he withdrew a hammer, dark and grey. This he called Keening, and he laid it next to the forge. From the well again he withdrew a set of tongs, silvery with blue hazy lines swirling across the surface. This he called Sunder, and he laid it next to the forge as well.
The third portion of power he tossed back to the dragon god. "You used too much."
With that done, Harkon moved and examined Umbart's chest. Satisfied with what he saw, he returned to the forge and took earth to mimic the shape of a heart. In this he placed water, to serve as the life and blood of it, and he added fire to give it warmth. Finally he added wind, and it began to beat, but it immediately began to crumble as well. Willing the dragon metal to himself, he bound the heart in tiny threads, elastic enough to move with the beating of it but strong enough to keep the elements together.
As it seemed stable, the Lord of Waters took it and quickly switched it out for Umbart's old one, which was still bound to the chains. He waited, to see if it would work.
Mathius said he was only missing 1 pp to complete the artifact, so I think you get 1 PP back, Joran. Since he said the forge was only missing tools, I went ahead and "made those" but since they're all part of the same artifact I am assuming that no extra PP is necessary.
And finally, if the heart is just to keep Umbart alive but free, then it doesn't seem like it needs to have any PP invested.
Let me know if I am wrong in any of this, as I will be happy to change my post accordingly
"Fiona, I have tried as you suggested to make myself smaller, but for a variety of reasons, such an action is untenable in the long run. Therefore, if you are unwilling to change your own appearance, I am afraid that our engagement must be called off."
"Cruias," Harkon repeated, tasting the flavor of the name. "A curious moniker. What are you?"
The lord of water's certainly felt better when Itja came into the room; he was doing much better. The Mother appeared to be an expert healer, he would have to commend her on that at some point. He wanted to inquire as to how he faired and what had happened, but the tomb god was clearly dealing with this Fiona person. Hmm... odd name, it sounded like it belonged to an ogre.
~Itja's Tomb~
Armal looked around for a moment before responding, "The Mother's not here. I'm Harkon Armal; you can tell us apart based on... well... her being an insect and me being water. See? Water!"
Harkon submerged his mouth in himself and blew bubbles for a moment. "Itja made me too," the lord of water's said, puffing up a bit with pride. "He needed help getting life to be stable in Culthet." The god still didn't know the truth of his own creation.
"It was grand place, full of water and storms, but alas you can't see it now, it was destroyed."
The god's form wobbled and collapsed into a puddle for a moment before he could pull himself back together. "Sorry about that. Say, if you were made from the consuming darkness, can you tell me why the consuming darkness consumed Culthet and its sister plane, Mishway? They were nice, ancient, places, after all."
She floated above the water below her. "I think that this steam may pose a problem since it's just going nowhere. I think that this Forge needs some sort of heat source to keep the materials hot. Fire and steam seems to be good sources of heat." Schi'vya swirled around and a plume of steam was directed towards the bottom of the forge. Next, once she was underneath the Forge, she pushed in a small hle in the ground and magma started to flow out of it, creating a hot bath. Schi'vya quickly flew out and watched as the magma slowly rose and gently heated up the Forge from the bottom. "And that's how it's done."
She couldn't believe it. She just could not believe it. After that spectacle, he should be begging her to take him back. Just goes to show how little she knew about him. Still, it took a lot of gall to come along and say that after he'd basically just almost sucked her brains out. He had the guts to come back here and cancel the engagement after that? He had the nerve to come along and imply that it was her unwillingness to change form that had ended things? It wasn't as though the only child soul in that great big body of his was a mindflayer.
"Me? Change my form?" she spat, disgust dripping from every word, "I'm sorry, but such an action is untenable in the long run."
She glared at him for a moment, quite disconcerting in how disgusted her angelic little face could become. Then she spun around, her curls bouncing, and marched off. But something seemed to stop her as she reahed the exit. She turned slowly towards Itja, a smile spreading ominously across her face.
"Oh, I almost forgot, I hope you and that bloated insect over there are very happy together," she remarked, a dark malice in her eyes, "I hope you have fat juicy babies together."
She paused for a moment, as if thinking.
"Just think," she said, with cruel delight playing about her lips, "If the thought of marrying a little girl was repugnant, imagine how you'll feel about her."
She smiled and all at once she became disarmingly cute and innocent. Almost like an actual little girl. She wiggled her fingers at Itja and the rest as if waving and gave a little wink before departing.
"Toodle-ooo!"
Umbart gasped and collapased as his heart was plucked from his chest once again. For awhile he lay still barely breathing. Life slow crept back into Umbart's eyes as slowly opened them. In voice that stammered and broke,
Thank you friends, I am free.
With those words he stood up and fell back down.
This heart will sustain me but it is weak. I must build a stronger one once I am able.
Could I ask favor? I want to go outside, I have yet to see this world with my own eyes.
Umbart pulled himself over the heart of Culthet and took it in his hands.
This must be protected, for it still holds this world together and will let us forever remember Culthet.
OOC
The Forge of the gods:
This mystical chamber was forged to force together all four base elements provide a suitable material for a gods work.
Effect: A god gains 1PP for Craft Artifact or Exarch actions take while in forge as long as they are only one object. Great place to ascend someone as well.
Loophole: A god may only use the forge if a nation or population has 20 percent or more worship with occupies the forge. A guide action my be used direct population into or out the forge or mortal combat may be used to displace someone.
Additional Effect: For each point beyond the first the forge provides in week a denourish action effects the nation or population that occupies the forge.
~Itja's Tomb~
"They were Culthet and Mishway," Harkon told Cruias, not realizing that more might have been meant by the question. "As for how I change my form, I just do. Body conforms to will... usually. Sometimes things are a little more difficult, so I create what I need instead. Like my mouth and eyes. And finally, as for who everyone is... that young girl thingy was apparently Fiona, I don't think I know her, though she seemed familiar. And that's Itja-Rek."
Harkon's eye bobbed merrily as he said that, agreeing with himself. "Speaking of which..."
He oozed over to the tomb god, leaving a trail of stagnat water behind as he did so. "Summoner, my condolances on loosing yet another bride to be, and my commendations on the fine new form. But, are you well now? That strange, cloudy god didn't permanently harm you?"
With a wurble Harkon collapsed into a puddle again. His mouth floppped on the stone floor for a few moments before he reformed. "Excuse me. When I felt you being attacked, I might have been a little... hasty in my attempts to come help."
~Caverns of Davos~
"Of course, of course," Harkon said to Umbart, pointing towards the opening that seemed to have brought the other two gods in. His limb sagged and drooped before falling off. "It is a fine world, I think, with a little bit for everyone."
"As for this place," he glarred at the Death Titans, "We can see about making it safe soon, once we've all had a chance to rest and recover."
She should NOT be this happy about Itja-Rek deciding to break it off with his future mate... she was supposed to be an embracer of love, and mating, and fertility. And normally she was. Just... not with the Itja-Rek. He deserved someone less... erratic. Less childish. And now he was actually going to do something to correct the proposal even he admitted had been a mistake... which begged the question why ask in the first place if he thought it was a mistake, but the past could not be changed.
"If that is what your heart desires, then I will stand by you my friend," the Mother told him, following behind and using every ounce of her will not to let our any pheromones that would reveal her true feelings.
Though the Mother confessed, she did NOT like the fact that the Itja-Rek gave her a chance to change forms for him... so she enjoyed the Queens old form far more than her new one, was that any reason to break off the engagement? She supposed so, lust was as important as love in matters of the heart... but that just confirmed that the Queens old body was the sort that the Itja-Rek lusted over! While hers was...
And then the Queen said her piece. First about them being together... and her being bloated... did she really think that was the reason the Itja-Rek was breaking it off with her? She admitted she liked the Itja-Rek, but with his nature she doubted... and then she went on, and on. Bloated, repungent, that he would be disgusted at the mere thought of mating... if the Mother had not already had doubts about her self-image the words probably would of bounced right off, but as it was they struck right down into her core, piercing her heart painfully. If her eyes had tear ducts, she would have probably been forcing back tears.
As it was, she trembled a little bit with the effort of keeping back her pheromones, but tried to make it seem as though she were merely cold. "Well... that is the end of that I suppose," she said finally... unable to help looking down at her carapaced form. The form the Itja-Rek thought was ugly compared to the squishy form of the Queen... the form EVERYONE thought was ugly, barring those of her own kind who were outnumbered heavily among both Mothers and Children.
Unfortunately, nothing was coming to mind.. Looking towards the far corridors, to the entrance of the caves, Cruias made up his mind to leave for the time being and find things out by himself. Following the route Itja-Rek had shown him, he barely cared about the axes and arrows flying out of nooks in the wall- they merely dissapeared when they touched him, after all. Soon enough he reached the entrance to the dungeon, heading back out into the bright sun.
Returning to his original form, he waited there, thinking.
The Golden figure of Absalom walked into the antechamber of the tomb mere moments after Fiona had thrown her tantrum. It was obvious that the Golden God was not pleased with the Queen’s reaction, his arm was lifted to his head and his index finger and thumb were pressing on the sides of his temples. “I apologize, that was childish of her.”
Walking towards the door, Absalom spoke as he moved on his arachnid legs. “The point I have been attempting to make this entire time was that physical appearance is a triviality, something that should barely be an afterthought to Gods. Sadly that seems to have fallen on death ears….”
As he reached the tunnel leading out through which the Queen had departed, Absalom turned to the other assembled Gods before leaving “I will see if I can convince her to apologize.”
Itja-Rek watched the goddess leave, half aware that he might have just made a formidable foe where he had been hoping to find an ally. Perhaps at some point in the future he could... work out some sort of deal with his scorned... quarry, but for now, he really just wanted some peace and quiet. His body was new and different, and very tired. But first, a few pressing issues.
He turned to The Mother.
"Ignore her, Mother. She is merely a spurned child. You were right all along that our... union... would have been ill advised. Her spiteful words were designed to cause hurt, and while I cannot know what goes on inside your head..." he placed an arm on the carapace of the insectoid goddess... "I feel you should know that I, for one, find your form far better suited for so many things than the squishy form that the Monarch prefers. Your carapace is shiny, your limbs nimble, and, I feel I should tell you that some of my souls... well, I guess now some of my former souls, and many of the trilobite souls now residing within me, find you altogether mysterious... they say thats a good thing."
A stray thought crossed his mind... something he had said had been slightly offensive.
"Not that being squishy is necessarially a bad thing, Harkon." he said, turning to the deity. "Just to be squishy and yet still of one shape... that is inferior to you, certainly. Are you okay?"
~The City~
The Reaper had wisely left the Tomb when all of the hubbub had begun, full of happiness after depositing her souls at the repository. As she traveled, she soon found a huge fungal city populated by fungal humanoids. Cautiously, she began picking off the weak members of the tribe, but each time she did, no soul was produced. Instead, the entire place seemed to burst into new life.
1 PP: From The Reapoer: Nourish Populace: the City benefits from some judicious pruning.
Laughter. High, cold, and sort of shrieky.
"My dear tree you are too funny!"
There was a pause. The rushing wind filled the void for a moment.
"Yes! Exactly! I was thinking the exact same thing! Like... how would it work?"
Another pause. Wind-tossed leaves skipped across the ground.
"Okay, seriously, that is just gross."
A pause yet again. More gentle rushing of wind.
"I guess he'll have to turn into an great bloody insect like her."
There was a pause this time, but it was cut short by more shrieky laughter.
"Do bugs even have... you know?"
Pause.
"Seriously, I am about to throw up all over you right now."
She admitted that Itja-Reks touch, and him telling her her carapace was shiny and her limbs nimble... but... she didn't WANT to be mysterious, even if she said it was a good thing. She wanted to be beautiful... and when the best thing someone has to say about your appearance is that its 'mysterious', it doesn't exactly help any self-esteem issues you might have.
"Thank you, the Itja-Rek," the Mother replied, letting out some grateful pheromones. "This entire incident has been... a bit trying on us all I think. I cannot help but feel a little sorry for the Queen even with her behavior though... you should learn not to toy with a girls heart so much, the Itja-Rek."
Preening her antennae in though, the Mother just... had to get out of there. Do something to take her mind off of the whole proceedings. "If you would excuse me, I had best check on my Children," the Mother began to excuse herself. "I have strayed from them overly long I think, especially with this new world and its new dangers."
As The Mother left, Itja-Rek ambled over to his throne and sat in it, watching as Harkon and Cruias spoke, and hoping they'd take their leave of him soon... he needed some time to process all that had happened.
Oh so now the only reason he decided to break it off with her was that he couldn't be a child and she refused to age? So their wildly differing personalities, her mean streak, and the general incompatibility of the two had absolutely nothing to do with it? She should... she calmed herself. She was still a little hurt and unreasonable from the Queens comments, and Itja-Reks comments he mistakingly thought would make her feel better.
"I hope to see you soon too, the Itja-Rek," the Mother replied, bowing her head slightly as he sat in his throne. "I enjoyed our time here together, before things conspired against our quiet tour." With that, she turned around and scuttled out of the tomb, before buzzing her wings and flying off. She had intended for her Childrens safety to be a mere excuse, but unless something else came along, it was as good a place to go as any.
"Still, what could it hurt to pass through. I might see some interesting things, and it right in the way of where I'm going."
With that settled, Aaviz walked through the mushroom forest, peering about eagerly as he went, until he stumbled upon a clearing. Not noticed yet by the girl within, he silently listened to her chat to the oddest tree, one which seemed to be growing eggs like fruit.
Adjusting his hat slightly as he realized that such eavesdropping was pretty rude, he made it a point to step on several crunchy objects as he walked into the clearing.
The cracking twig echoed like a gunshot through the quiet air. The little girl's head snapped up alarmingly fast. Her eyes fixed themselves upon Aaviz, appraising everything about him, from his shoes to the bowler hat perched atop his little head. For a moment, she had tensed, as a cat ready to pounce, or a cobra about to strike. But upon seeing who it was, she relaxed back onto her bed of crackling leaves. In the setting sun she was quite the sight to behold, swathed in a corona of fading light, the great thick roots of the egg tree big around as a man's thigh seeming to wrap and curl about her. She went back to examining something she held in her hands. It was a doll, woven from teal-green grass.
"Oh, I thought you might have been Itja. He's been very mean to me lately." she barely spared a glance his way as she spoke to Aaziv, "Come, sit, make yourself at home."
The hand not holding the doll waved through the air. A root the size of a boa constrictor rose from the mossy carpet of the forest floor and wove towards Aaviz. Wrapping itself gently around his torso, it lifted him up off the ground and, careful not to hit his head against the mushroom caps above, pulled him through the air. Aaviz noted how very cold the root was as it deposited him in a little hollow formed by twisting roots not far from the little girl.
"Don't mind the tree, he doesn't mean any harm," she continued to stroke the doll's grassy hair, "Would you like something to drink? Water? Milk?"
She looked up now, and her mouth split into a wide, toothy grin. She did appear to have quite a lot of teeth for such a small child.
"Tea?"
Settling in, he cocked his head sideways. "What was that? A drink? Yes, yes I'd take some tea. I wasn't away this place had tea. I just sort of assumed that it was something that hadn't come around here. Of course, I thought the same thing about milk as well. I suppose I really should stop making assumptions. As I was always told, making assumptions makes an ass out of you and umption."
"Oh yes, we have tea," said the girl, still smiling, "The little Mish make it from herbs found in the forest and water from the streams."
It occurred to Aaviz that the girl didn't appear so much to be smiling as showing her teeth. Her very long, oh-so very pointy teeth. It seemed impossible that they could exist on such a small body.
"And milk, we have milk," she continued, "Lots and lots of milk. But I won't tell you where we get it."
Suddenly the little girl was out of her hollow and running down the tree roots towards Aaviz, her bare feet slapping against the cold wood. Then, before he could react, she was beside him, her breath hot on his neck, her sharp teeth inches from his ear. She spoke slowly, quietly, but full of dark glee.
"It's a secret," she whispered, "I'll never tell... unless you make me..."
And just as fast as she had come, she was gone, throwing herself backwards through the air. She soared unnaturally through the air and landed with cat-like agility near the base of the great egg tree. Suddenly she was angelic no longer. Now a bestial ferocity twisted her porcelaine features. When she spoke, her voice was like a bark, harsh and loud.
"Why have you come here? Tell me!"
Glancing up when she whispered in his ear, he watched her jump away. "I was just wandering through the forest. I was on a mission of some kind, though what slips my mind at the moment. I happened upon your grove and figured I'd say hello." Glancing around, he frowned. "Didn't you ask if I could have some tea? Just wondering, I'm a bit thirsty. And what is a Mush? Or do you want me to make you tell me that as well. I could try, I suppose, but I've never really been a fan of using force when I could just ask nicely, though, in hindsight, most people don't tell me things when I ask nicely either. Quite rude of them to not answer my questions, I suppose, but I'm surprisingly lenient about rude behavior, such as not serving drinks to a guest, uninvited or otherwise, or dousing people in water, or anything like that."
Scratching his head, he adjusted his hat. "Why is this tree so cold anyways? Wouldn't have a bunch of souls from evil wizards and beasts trapped inside it, would it? I encountered a tree like that once. Did not end well, no,no, did not end well at all?"
"Mish, kindly get the gentleman some tea," she mumbled.
The Mish, apparently, happily obliged. Numerous of the little men sprang up and set to work. Apparently they had been waiting on hand all along A cup appeared out of nowhere, made from the hollowed out cap of a harder variety of mushroom, and suddenly there was steaming water pouring into it, though Aaviz knew not where from. The rest of the Mish were busy gathering up some assorted bits of grass and twigs and even the egg tree's own leaves. They crushed these up and placed them in the steaming cup. Shyly, reverently, they passed the mushroom cap to Aaviz.
"Leave us," muttered the girl absently, and fast as breathing they were gone.
"So, I was thinking while sitting here drinking my tea, that you didn't really answer any of my questions. Now, that is slightly rude, and I could simply get up and do some research and find out on my own, but that would be rude, but then I realized something else. Here we are, having tea, asking questions, and whispering in one another's ears, and yet, we don't know each other, or anything about each other. Or, for me at least, even what this strange egg bearing tree is."
Jumping to his feet, he offered a bow. "I am Aaviz, scientist, inventor, and supposed archmage extraordinaire."
The girl looked up. For a moment, surprise seemed to flicker across those great big eyes of her. But the next instant it had hardened into something else. Something undefinable. But then she smirked.
"Oh, my name is Delilah," said the little girl softly, and then she waved a hand at the tree behind her, "And this is my tree, Samson. Say hello Samson."
The great big tree seemed to give a little shift that may have been a greeting. The wind that blew through its branches certainly sounded inviting.
"That's a good tree," said the girl, apparently named Delilah.
The leaves on the tree seemed to rustle and dance in a way that recalled preening. If this tree certainly could feel emotion, Aaviz suspected this one might be pleasure. But it was hard to tell. It was a tree after all.
"I'm sorry," said Delilah, "I suppose I haven't been paying much attention, what were your questions again?"
Scratching his chin for a long moment, his eyes widened. "And then I asked why this tree was so cold and if it had evil wizard souls trapped in it. And then I asked you about the strange egg bearing tree there again and I mentioned we weren't introduced, though we seem to have gotten that out of the way quite quickly, haven't we dear Delilah."
Snapping his fingers, he groaned. "That is what I forgot. My parents always told me that it was important to greet a proper lady like this, but I always seem to forget until it's too late." Snapping his fingers, he teleported to her, lifting her fingers to his lips as he bowed, offering a slight peck. "A pleasure to meet you, my dear."
Just like that, he teleported back to his seat and picked up his cup once, more finishing the drink. "This tea is quite good. I must get the recipe."
"You talk very quickly," she remarked, "But I'll do my best answer."
She didn't speak at first, just squinted at Aaviz. Then she took a deep breath and just let out with it.
"Itja-Rek. I can't tell you. No. No. Yes. Yes. You mean Mish. No. I have no idea. Probably not, but I can't be sure. And yes, yes we have."
Then she blinked for a moment, as though steadying herself.
"Was that all?"
Thinking or a moment, he also frowned, then smiled again. "Oh, yeah, you didn't tell me about this egg tree either. And what is a Mish? And are you sure you can't explain the tree thing to me? You did say something about making you, but I really really don't like forcing people to do things, and I'd hate to harm such a beautiful lady by doing it, but I really, really want to know."
Omph!
Caltabactos fell from the top of the tree that bore him, and looked around confused. He wasn't sure how he had arrived here, or where exactly here was. He vaguely noticed two other gods in the Grove, one of which seemed strangely familiar. After putting a hand to his bloody head as if suffering from a headache, the god mumbled something, and then looked at the two others.
"Err... I seem to have stumbled into someone's home." He dusted himself off, and then added, "somehow I doubt that's the last time I'll say that..."
Water expanded in a pool around Harkon, gathering up the dust and grim of the tomb into mud. Then the water retreated, called back into the god as his concentration could spare the chance to notice, leaving increasingly thick residues of hardened dirt behind. "No offense taken, Summoner, none at all. Water isn't squishy, anyways... it's splishy, see?"
His bloodshot eye rose out of his waters a few inches then ploped back down with a gentle splish. "One of the advantages of not having skin, you see."
The eye righted itself in the body of the god, so as to look at Itja-Rek. It carefully scanned him, looking for any lingering traces of harm. "As for me, I'm well enough but shouldn't stay long. You took the oath, so when that spider-legged one..." he paused a moment as he realized that might not be clear, "that is, the spider-legged one who isn't the Mother harmed you, I could feel your distress and game as quickly as I could. Unfortunately another oath taker was in distress at that moment as well and I sort of got pulled in two directions. It is impressively difficult to maintain two bodies; once I'm back together I should be fine. Thank you for your concern."
"I can definitely understand the difficulty! Do you want me to find a bowl or something for you to rest in, and then we can go out to find your other half?"
Passing through the ancient and venerable threshold of Itja-Rek’s tomb, Absalom had barely taken one step into the sunlight when he merely phased through reality, appearing less than a second later in the Mushroom forest not far from where he sensed the presence of Fiona. He intended to rebuke her for acting in such a spiteful manner, to enlighten her to the possible impact of her actions and the likelihood of having made enemies in that tomb. She could have appeared as the victim, she could have earned much sympathy from the others, and instead she cast herself as almost the spiteful mistress (truly odd given that she was the one betrothed to Itja).
However, as the Golden God strolled at a brisk pace towards the Queen’s location, voices carried on the wind towards his divine hearing. It sounded like there was someone present with her, or perhaps, yes two someone’s. Absalom could sense the presence of two other deities in close proximity to Fiona, and given the nature of the conversation that he heard carried on the wind; he did not believe her to be in any danger.
For a moment Absalom considered barging in and continuing on his initial plans to rebuke the Queen, however he decided against such action, it was not something that should occur before a crowd. Turning away from the grove wherein sat the Egg Tree, Absalom began to walk towards his lands, intending to continue the project he had started earlier.
Coming to the edge of the river that separated the Mushroom Kingdom from his valley and Mountains, the God of Beauty examined his lands. They were aesthetically pleasant, with forests and rolling grasslands, towering peaks to provide an imposing backdrop, with trickling streams and babbling brooks providing a contrast to the rushing waters of the large river that served as a boundary. However, at this time, it possessed no life.
Reaching down to his side and lifting up the heavy tomb of the codes, Absalom sought to rectify this situation. Drawing forth a portion of the books energy, the God of Beauty began to read aloud from the pages of the text in the true language of creation, the language of inherent meaning and power. As he did so, small creatures similar to the dobbits of the triskellion minus the flowery tail began to spring into existence across the land, the waterways became laden with fish, eagles, hawks, sparrows and other birds scattered about the skies, small rodents with large puffy tails and an affinity for nuts began to inhabit the forest, and more.
Next, Absalom set about making some predators to stalk the forests and planes. Drawing forth his own divine energy, the Golden God began by shaping a creature of canine features and temperament, a pack animal with a clear hierarchy and disciplined hunting practices. Sharp claws were placed at the ends of paws, vicious teeth nuzzled into a strong jaw, and numerous sharply spiked quills aligned both forwards and backward along the creature’s shoulders and its back provided a defense mechanism against attack from above and gave them yet another powerful offensive weapon.
Having completed the Quill-Hounds, Absalom smiled as he saw packs scatter about the land, but something quickly cast that smile from his face. A small pack of six or seven Quill-Hounds was running along the crest of a green hill, when suddenly the ground erupted underneath them. A massive carapaced and segmented Worm tore up from underneath the pack, and swallowed two of the beasts whole as the others scattered. Infuriated, Absalom stalked towards the creature as it dove back into the earth and recommenced digging. What was this thing and what was it doing in his land? It was not part of his plan, not something that he had desired in this place!!!
Casting his senses wide throughout the valley, Absalom took note that nearly half a dozen of these massive creatures burrowed beneath his land. Drawing forth power, the God of Beauty laced the soil of the planes with a microscopic bacteria that would allow the plants to grow, but would be poisonous in sustained quantities to the burrowers. They would be cast from the heart of his land, able to stalk the borders perhaps but only for short periods of time.
Turning back, Absalom walked away from where the beast had risen and ceased to pay attention, knowing the problem had been dealt with. However, while the worms quickly fled from the very earth that sickened them, they did not flee far. Five of the massive worms departed the valley in the direction of the mountains, and they carved through the rock and granite almost as easily as through the soft dirt. As time passed, they came to carve out a massive complex of caves and tunnels that would have taken mortals decades or even centuries to build.
1pp from Codex Nourish Land- A bunch of woodland critters appear throughout the valley.
1pp Spawn Beast- Quill-Hounds, wolves with sharply spiked quills along their back and shoulders stock the prey animals.
1pp Nourish Land- The heart of the valley becomes inhospitable to ff6shadow’s worms, and no they can only venture into the valley between the river and the mountains for short periods of time, severely limiting their hunting grounds.
2pp Mold Land (1 from Masquerade)- The worms fleeing the valley carve out a massive series of caves and tunnels in the mountains.
Aaviz was talking, but somehow the little girl seemed to be taking none of it in. His words just washed over that small, delicate little girl with absolutely no absorption. It could have something to do with the odd nature of the girl, but it could also have something to do with the absolute inanity of Aaviz himself. The girl opened her mouth, apparently about to say something just along those lines when the egg tree gave an almight heave, sending its vast branches swaying, and seemed to vomit up what appeared a person.
"Tree, it is not considered polite to regurgitate people in the presence of guest," remarked the little girl, completely unfazed by this turn of events, "Couldn't you have waited until after he left?"
She shook her head exasperatedly. The tree was often doing strange things such as this: laying eggs, moving its roots around, why, the tree had even once had the gall to rain on her. This man erupting from its boughs was certainly not the strangest, nor the last of such developments. She only hoped it wouldn't drive off her guest. Whatever she appeared to the contrary, the little girl was enjoying her chat with the odd little man with the bowler hat.
"I apologize profusely for any inconvenience this may have caused" said the little girl to Aaviz, then, turning to the new arrival she said, "And you, where did you come from? I suppose you don't normally lurk around in trees."
"Oh! Um! My name is Caltabactos, but you can just call me Sotcabatlac if you like saying names backward. Nice place you've got here. Could use some more decorating, maybe a statue of a dobbit impaling a wood waif, or a hedge, I love hedges!"
He put a finger to his chin, trying to remember something. After recalling that he owed her an explanation he added, "I'm not quite sure how I got in here. I was asleep in the Triskelion, and then I'm being spit out by a tree! That hasn't happened to me since I arrived in Mishway (rest in peace). I think your tree may be an abducter, Miss...?"
She appraised the man once and then smiled. He seemed non-threatening enough. Then again, you could never tell with these Mishwayan types. He could suddenly sprout a feather headdress or an angry purple fringe, and then where would they be? Throw in some leather chaps and a guy dancing in a cage and it would be a gay bar. The girl stopped herself. She was going on a rant. Besides, she didn't know what chaps were, let alone leather ones. And it bamboozled her how a bar could possibly be gay.
"All right Sotcabatlac, here's the dealio, my tree here, Samson is magic," she explained, "And since magic attracts magic, I tend to get a lot of odd things scooped up and landing in my tree here. Today it just happened to be a fully grown man in his birthday suit."
She snapped her fingers and several Mish popped out of nowhere, climbing over the multitude of roots. Each carried a different something in their twiggy little hands.
"Can they get you anything?" asked Delilah, "A breath mint? Some plain white tea?"
~Poliphas' Workshop~
Ruudite wiped his brow as he finished creating another Eidolon. Ruudite set down the hammer he had been using to shape the Eidolon's outer shell. He wished there was a way for the Eidolons to make themselves, instead of having to craft each one individually. Unfortunately, while the Eidolons were moderately intelligent and untiring crafters, the great majority of them were unable to master the rituals needed to bring another Eidolon to life. What Ruudite needed was another race to assist the Eidolons. Ruudite searched the world around the Pillar until he found a small Eladrin farming community. He observed their natural ability to assume other beings' abilities and thought these people would be ideal for his purposes.
~Eastern Sairok, near the Triskelion~
Ruudite deposited the newly created Eidolon just outside of the farming village, instead of near the Pillar where the largest Eidolon population resided. Before leaving, Ruudite implanted memories of the Eidolon villages and how to get there into the newest Eidolon. Then, Ruudite pushed the Eidolon into entering the village.
The Eidolon quickly found himself being aimed at by several village warriors. The Eidolon explained he was a traveler sent to find other villages, in order to set up trade between villages. Much to his surprise, this wasn't an Eidolon village but he would still extend the same offer of peaceful trade. The village elders asked to confer among themselves and that they would give an answer in the morning.
Unseen by the mortals, Ruudite influenced one of the Virago to study the Eidolon closely. Ruudite then whispered the knowledge necessary for the Virago to start making another Eidolon. The Virago Ruudite had whispered to then travelled into the forest and started the process. Ruudite whispered into a couple more Virago's ears, passing necessary knowledge to complete the Eidolon making process.
In the morning, the elders agreed to the trade and the Eidolon departed, travelling back with the list of items the Eladrin village would need. In a couple weeks time, a delegation of Eidolons returned with the plows, iron tools and other items requested. Much to the Eidolons' surprise, there was another of their race, living among the Virago. Questioning the elders, the Eidolon discovered that three of the tribe's younger members had managed to use their geomantic skills to craft this new Eidolon, whom they had named "Eternal Watcher" in the Eladrin's language.
~Poliphas' Pillar~
Ruudite looked down from the Pillar watching the two races work with each other. It seemed a beneficial relationship had been formed. The Eladrin gained untiring guardians who would protect them from this world's dangers. The Eidolons gained a way to increase their numbers without having to be crafted by the gods. Ruudite smiled. Now he had enough time to work on some of Poliphas' other projects. He turned and warped himself into the Workshop.
~Poliphas' Workshop~
Ruudite pulled out a set of blueprints Poliphas had sketched out shortly before he had left to speak with the other gods. It showed four machines whose shapes closely related to some of this world's animals. Ruudite picked up his tools and started up the Workshop's forge. Once again, the sounds of hammering filled the Workshop.
Turning to Caltabactos as he introduced himself, he offered a bow. "A pleasure to meet you. I am Aavize, scientist, master inventor, and assumed archmage extraordinaire. I've been just sitting here pleasantly chatting with this Delilah girl, but she can be quite cruel. Refuses to tell me the secret of her tree's ability to pick me up and carry me around. She told me she wouldn't tell me unless I made here, but then, I don't want to make her and have to hurt her in the process. So it's quite a cruel situation, wouldn't you say? What is a Triskelion anyways? Or a Mishway? And where might the be?"
Sitting their for a moment, his eyes widened. "Oh my, I almost forgot, I left my last experiment on hold. I need to bring those things to life." Snapping his fingers, he called to the shells he had left so far away near Itja'Rek's tomb, watching expectantly as they corporealized in the air around them.
Looking at the misshapen hulk of metal, stone, and wood that appeared, he groaned. "Well rats. Apparently, my first attempt to bring them to life caused them to all melt together. Guess I'll have to get to work cleaning it up."
Ignoring his audience, he leapt forward, scattering into almost a dozen copies as he assailed the hulk of metal with hammers, chisels, strange bottles that released gouts of flame, slowly crafting it back into a good shape. Finally after ten to fifteen minutes of work, the copies vanished in puffs of smoke as the original stepped back to, looking carefully at his work.
Larger than he had expected, the golem stood almost quadruple his height, the bulkily built creation stood silent, awaiting command. "No, no, no, just having a simple automaton is a waste of good effort. He'll need to have a mind and personality of his own."
Plunging his hand into his chest, he moaned in agony as he fished around in his own chest, his face screwing up in agony as small rivulets of blood began to drain down his tunic and arm. Finally, he found what he sought, ripping his hand free with a gasp of relief, staring down are the stone, gazing in wonder at the small rainbow lights slowly pulsing in it.
Slowly shuffling over to his construct, he pushed it into the creatures chest, then slumped onto a nearby stone to wait for the effect to activate. Wheezing from the strain, he glanced at Delilah, "Could I get . . another glass . . of tea, please?"
2/9
Astriluxus and Rampart get 4 PP, everybody else gets 6.
This is the LAST WEEK of the Warp. Anything on locworldwarp.wikia.com/wiki/PreWarpObjec... that has NOT been placed yet may be moved until the end of the week.
Nation Strengths and the like are in their usual spots.
Caltabactos reached into the teacup and drunk from his cupped hands. He regarded Aaviz with interest. Unlike the girl in front of him, this man was completely alien to Caltabactos. He shrugged, and answered the questions while watching the inventor work.
"I suppose so. A verdant land; you'll have to see it yourself. My home. Gone. And didn't that hurt?"
Harken, what is happening to you. What do you need.
Feeling the heart beat stronger in his chest, Umbart when over to his oath-mate.
I feel my strength returning brother, you helped my now let me help you.
Turning to Schi'vya, Umbart bowed.
Thank you as well, I am not my old self you yet, will you help me hold him.
Seeing that the dragon was busy at the moment, Umbart chose to say nothing to him yet but he knew that a debt was owed. Turn his gaze back to his oath brother,
Sorry old friend but I do not want you to lose you self.
With that Umbart drank up the Harken and took him into his belly. As Umbart drank he grew so that he could hold all of Harken's waters safe within himself.
This is not all of him, please help me to find the rest. Umbart, by the way. Sorry I did not introduce myself sooner. I seem slow at the moment, can you help me up the shaft?
"Oh that'd be lovely. I'll be alright once I pull myself together, but a bucket wouldn't be amiss. If it isn't out of your way, I think that rest of myself is over there," Harkon said to Itja-Rek, waving a wobbly portion of water in the direction of the godspire.
~Caverns of Davos~
"That was most unpleasant," Harkon blurbled through Umbart's form, "but it'll do. The rest of me went in that direction, I think." Umbart could feel something in his stomach push towards the veil.
Schi'vya glanced at Umbart, a little confused. "Help who?" She noticed that god of waters turning into a floating puddle of water momentarily. "Oh, that one..." She made a cushion of air around Harkon's form and levitated both Umbart and Astriluxus into it as well. "Hold on tight everyone!"
She sped out of the deep shaft, creating a cyclone of wind behind her. It only took a mere few moments for them to get out and back on top of the Godspire. "There. That better everyone?" She smiled. She reformed the cushion of air to hold Harkon's form temporarily. The rest she quickly brought back to her-- unaware that a speck of her glitterdust had come out from her after the soft landing. The wind grew stronger and whipped itself into an almost indistinguishable form, then assumed a long, bladelike form. The winds coalesed into a long, thin, sharp blade. Wind currents slowly flowed around the weapon.
Schi'vya looked in awe. "Well, that was... certainly unexpected..."
~Astral Winds~
The winds blew long and hard, the elementals flowed through the breezes, and the birds flew down towards the lush lands below the colosseum. In that time, the single drop of the rock hit the water below like a raindrop; at the same time, a divine presence blew through the winds, almost knocking them out of the currents. The end result was the development of more elementals flowing through the breezes, some of which have become larger versions of themselves. This was the lifecycle of an elemental-- to live through the currents and to become an elder elemental. It was meant to be, for they were truly sentient beings...
4PP- Create Greater Artifact (Blade of the Four Winds): A Combat Artifact, which delights in the pain in which the user inflicts upon its enemies as a vengeful storm. It gleams with a clean, silvery sheen in the sunlight, and has a golden hilt with different colored ribbons flowing from the bottom of the hilt. The blade is engraved with a set of runic scriptures that when read it will bind its user to its ultimate powers locked within; but the user must be adept to the winds, or else the blade may slip out of the hands of the wrong user.
1PP- Nourish Populace: The Air Elementals have become more numerous, ans some have even become larger. The life cycle to the Air Elementals have begun.
Current PP: 1/9
"Things you could help with? Well, honestly, I'm not currently working on inventing anything. Lots and lots of ideas for future use, like clockwork creatures and steam powered nail clippers, not to mention the atomic hair clippers, but they are more ideas in progress then actual things to make right now."
-----
Since the sky had shattered and the world ended, they had silently wandered across the mostly barren wasteland. When the skimmers flew by, they used their talents to drive them off. When the strange new beasts and their mindless minions arrived, they continued their nomadic lifestyles, shifting from place to place in search of the lands limited supply of edible plants. It was a harsh life, a life which had brought conflict to a species which had never before slain one of it's own, as they squabbled and fought and killed each other over the lands food.
Then, in a single instant, which would echo across the continent for generations to come, a singular falling tear, shed by a god who had remembered things best left forgotten in the recesses of one's mind, had struck a single vineaza. That moment forever altered the future of a species that otherwise would have slowly died off, forgotten by the mists of history. That single creature was altered, awakening to new thoughts and ideas within his head, to new concepts that would bring new like to the land. He had become Cetana. Superficially identical to his brethren, he had returned to his people, never suspecting the change he might bring. Never suspecting the changes that his descendants would bring.
The cetana were different from their vineazan kin. They preferred to settle in one location, disdaining the nomadic travels. They studied the simple plants that grew in the rocky soil of their continent, learning and understanding how to make the ground more hospitable to growth, to make the plans grow faster, hardier, and healthier. They build simple structures from mud and dirt to shelter themselves from the winds and rain.
Time and days passed, and the cetana grew in numbers and strength, but they did not forget their roots. A struggling band of vineaza could count on a cetana settlement welcoming and sheltering them while they recovered from their trials, and the cetana could count on the vineaza to keep skimmer numbers down and warn of approaching swarms of the deadly beasts.
Having been deep in thought, he didn't notice when he got sucked out of the cavern. As he was about to start the casting, he noticed it was suddenly brighter than it was a moment ago. Looking around and seeing that everyone was outside, he was a little amazed! "Wow! When did this happen? Hmmm... I must be getting as bad as Aaviz.... Anyways, how are you doing? Sorry I didn't get your name. I must have been a bit preoccupied. Getting old these days. I'm not young you know. Been around Aaviz to long. Anyways I'm Astriluxus. Guardian dragon." Sees the sword finally, " oh sword. Where did that come from? And is that wind its made of?"
Feeling an uncomfortable sensation on his talons, he seems to casually flick the metal off sending fly far into a hidden forest somewhere. As its flying it seems to take a shape and upon landing, it oddly doesn't lose its shape like it should have. And it didn't dissipate like it should have either. Something seemed to glow faintly from the metal, almost like it was waiting for something......
And just as if he remembered something his head shot up. He looked around and said " I have to show my children this world! There is so much possibilities! Hang on a few folks!" And with that his wings wrapped around him and he suddenly dissappeared.
Reappering a few seconds later, on the floating island he went around seeing how his broods are doing. After looking around for a bit he noticed they weren't doing as well as he'd like. Not wanting to disrupt the whole race he took only enough of the broods to him that he needed to bring along into the new world he found. Wrapping his massie wings around everthing that he wanted to, there was a bright flash and they were suddenly gone.
Appearing suddenly in the waltzing mountains somewhere, we released his dragons into the world. "New possibilities, new creatures, new chances. Now go and grow!" Letting his dragons go into the world, he returned to the others. "There! New home! New race here! Something for the young ones to play with. So, you where saying......?"
1PP Guide Population: Move some of the dragons to the waltzing mountains, leaving enough on the floating island to maintain the race there.
1PP Nourish Population: Caused the population on the waltzing mountains to flourish.
should be now 3/5 left
Buoyed aloft by Schi'vya's wind, Umbart exit the Godspire for the first time. He marveled as he saw the land both above and below him teeming with life. A world ripe with possibility. Feeling the sun on his face for the first time, Umbart grinned like a small child and whooped with laughter. This was more of a gurglely warble the a laugh since his stomach was full of a god.
Wonderful Wonderful
,
Umbart's voice boomed out. Suddenly he doubled over in pain.
I do not think I can hold you for long.
Feeling the oath inside himself and his brother, Umbart took the knowledge he need from Harken a bayed his boat to appear. Flying, like only a boat of the gods can the Harken's Galley arrived. As the great boat came to stop, Umbart pulled his bloated form over edge and gracelessly boarded.
Well my lady of the wind, I am off to put my oath-mate back together. Would you care to join me? Ahhh... Harken, you best get out here..... We are on your ....
Interrupted mid-sentence, Umbart vomited the ailing god into a barrel on the deck.
boat. Sorry
"Okay, well... off we go." the god said, snapping his fingers and summoning a large bucket into which he placed Harkon. Soon, they reached the entrance, where Cruias waited. "Cruias, are you coming? I think it would be for the best. Doing is far better than observing."
Itja-Rek and Harkon-in-a-bucket sped out of the Tomb, over the Sunshroud mountains and towards the spire, where he could vaguely see a large boat floating in midair with the dancing shimmers of several other gods nearby. He approached them and said,
"Have any of you seen the other half of Harkon?"
Schi'vya glanced towards Umbart. "What is this 'Oath' you speak of?"
As the ephemerial ship of the gods rolled along unseen currents through the sky, the Lord of Waters attempted to work himself out. Being vomitted out of another god was quite disorienting. "That," he said to Umbart, "was incredibly disgusting. Never do it again."
His eye happened to be pointing at Schi'vya at the time and his mouth was pointed at the dragon god. As noted, being vomitted was rather disorienting.
"Who said that?" Harkon asked from his buckety repose as Itja-Rek drew near the boat.
"Who are you?" Armal asked in reply from his barrel of god-vomit. "Is that me," he asked the other gods around him, an eye flopping against the side of the barrel, trying to look out.
"Me?" he asked from his bucket, a watery tendril pulling himself up to see better.
"Me!" Harkon and Armal said in unison, both sliding out of their containers towards the other.
"You," Harkon noted, "look horrible. What happened?"
"That one," Armal motioned towards Umbart, "drank me than vomited me up."
"Uygh," the other sympathized. "I'm not sure I want you to join back with me now."
"Heh, funny. Come on, get over here. You look like you're about to fall apart, join with me."
"With you?"
The two lords of water glared at each other for a moment.
"Of course, I'm the original." "No you're not." "Yes I am."
They returned to glaring at each other.
"Oh Harkon, what have you gotten yourself into this time? Clearly only one of you is the original."
"And that's me!" Harkon and Armal said at once. "Liar!" they both said, pointing a watery tendril at each other.
Fed up with himself, the Lord of Waters attacked the Lord of Waters. The close proximity seemed to help, his legs reformed, as did his armor-like scales, just in time to stop the scratches of his own talons. The watery trails that he left began to dry, the liquid being pulled back into the god. His divine teeth flashed in the evening light as he lunged for his own throat. And then, stillness.
Harkon Armal released his own tail and looked around. His waters were neither dull nor lustrous, but the simple clarity that they always were. Two eyes looked out at the others, six legs with webbed talons reached out from his body, a coat of water-scales covered him, and a mouth, if perhaps somewhat larger than in the past, spoke to the assembled gods.
"I am sorry. That was... special. Thank you all for helping me pull myself together. Such difficulties were quite unexpected when I... well, never mind, it is unimportant now."
2pp devoted towards finishing off my Avatar, the twin serpents, Harkon & Armal.
Still gagging and spluttering, and shrinking back to his normal size Umbart caughed out
Harken, believe me, I will never ever do that again.
Rolling over to back Umbart took a moment to compose himself.
Outside at last, this is wonderful. This will be a good world.
Umbart stood and took in the assembled gods, his gaze stopping on the enigmatic god of wind. His gaze held transfixed, Umbart did not even remember to breath. A small enterinity passed in witch no one seamed to move at least not to Umbart.
You are beuatiful, please grace me with your name. I am Umbart
With those words, he bowed low yet did not take his eyes from graceful god of wind.
Lazily Sol drifted pass the gods, its tendrils hanging out behind it, unconcerned for the moment about Mani, who was far behind, just now existing the veil and glowing with the light it had gorged upon. The lord of waters watched them as they weaved their way between chains and floating islands in their external chase. Wisps of water vapors, scarce yet in the sky as clouds were still unknown to the lands below, were disturbed by their passing.
After a moment Harkon Armal again addressed the gods gathered in the sky. “All seems well, now. The Summoner is hale and hearty,” one of his eyes bobbed respectfully at Itja-Rek, “Umbart is free,” the other eye bobbed at him, “and I am whole. But the world languishes as we dally, talking. I have been away from the oceans too long, away from the work tasked to me, as I believe we all have been. Come, let us retire from talk for a time, let us tend to the earth; it cries out for change, for freedom from stagnation. Let us bring that gift to the world.”
The light of the sun glistened off the smooth water of his scales as he began to slither away, his legs trailing like tributaries to a great river, but he stopped next to Umbart. “Umbart, always be wary of those who have not taken the oath,” an eye turned backwards to look at Schi'vya through his head, “but if they take the oath…” he left the implication unsaid.
With that the lord of waters continued on his way, sliding down the mound of the sky until the haze of the air and his own translucence hid him from view.
~The sky above Korias, Near the Hive~
Now away from the other gods, Harkon Armal looked down upon the lower lands of the world, which the Mazunti had taken to calling Korias. There was a twinge of sadness as he looked; so much was barren and devoid of life. The world seemed dried out, it seemed to call for change, for blood.
Reaching up, Harkon pressed one of his webbed talons to his chest until it pierced his scales. Though his body was clear as water, when the talon passed the scales a bloom of ichor welled within him and without, oozing along his body. He allowed a drop to fall to the oceans below.
Where the ichor landed algae bloomed, spiraling out and crossing the surface of the waters of Korias. Seaweed forests sprung up as well, and swarms of plankton were formed. All manner of sea life came into existence, from scuttle fish and shrimp to lobsters and manta rays. The life the oceans produced provided much needed sustenance to those living along the coastlines, and those living in the oceans as well.
With this food the Mazunti and others thrived. In the light of Sol and Mani the sea dwarves erected their first permanent settlement, scarcely thirty individuals strong, upon one of the older coral reefs. This place they named Ker Aash, a monument to the change in the tide of their fortune, and from this place three brave souls went out to investigate further the curious creatures of the hive.
Pleased with his work, Harkon dove into the water and frolicked in his element to refreshen himself, though the wound he had taken throbbed. It would be some time in healing.
1PP (Oath) Nourish: The Oceans of Korias, giving them life in abundance. Harkon’s at -1 combat effectiveness for the rest of the week.
5PP +1 Genesis (Sol and Mani) remaining
The god headed upwards towards Sairok and past the Pillar to the base of the Sunshroud mountains. Once there, he began to dig, forming a sloping valley with a river flowing from the Sunshroud and down to a still lake. Reaching into himself, he pulled out one of his souls and shredded it into countless tiny pieces, allowing the slimy mass to fall to the earth as he felt himself weaken slightly. Wherever his rent soul landed from the spacious skies, tall grasses burst into existence, covering the whole of the valley in gentle waves of grain.
He continued to work, kneeling in the clay near the river to fashion all sorts of dumb animals to populate this new valley. One by one they peeled off into the grasses, losing their clay-like figures and dividing into entire groups of animals. Soon, the grasses hummed with the sounds of insects and small mammals, going about their daily business.
The god raised himself up and went to a spot located in the bend of the river. Here he flattened the grasses, leaving a bare patch of earth. Things were nearly ready. He had a Tomb. Now, he needed attendants and guardians.
But first, there were a few other things that needed to be done. He strode towards the Sunshroud mountains, just purpling from the sunrise on their peaks and carved a path in them to the other side, near Wenet. He ensured that the path would curve back and forth to prevent the bright sunlight from coming through, allowing those traveling it to rest without the fear of going blind. Then, on the peninsula, Wenet behind him, he formed a plaza, and in its center crafted a sturdy black altar.
The altar appeared to be made of obsidian, or some other similar shiny, black rock. It was decorated in a manner similar to Itja-Rek's tomb... Reds and blues traced fine lines across the faces of the altar, and gold inlay showed beings of all races kneeling before a figure that would stand behind the altar. Concentrating momentarially, Itja-Rek sank into the ground, attaching a tube to the altar and throwing the rest of the conduit through earth and stone and up into the Distillery.
Now, everything was ready. Itja-Rek vanished into his tomb for a moment to take a quick drink of the concentrated essences that the distillery created, and then stood over the altar and rested his hands upon it, concentrating.
1 PP: Mold Land: Form a sloping valley running diagonally towards the pillar from the mountains just hubward of Wenet.
1 PP (from Oath) (-1 to combat this week): Nourish Land: The valley is covered in thick grasses, as the great plains used to look.
1 PP: Nourish land: Various prey/ non-statted predators appear in the valley
1 PP: Mold Land: Form a narrow pass through the Sunshroud mountains next to the valley.
2 PP: Create Artifact (lesser, utility): The Altar of Initiation: Details to follow in my next few posts as to what this is for.
4/9 PP, 2/2 artifact/other PP (arbitration + genesis)
~The Outside of the World~
Across the oceans of Korias, Harkon Armal swam, to the veil, and through it, looking upon the outside of the world. In the void the living storms that Ordek had created raged, on the verge of being forgotten. Idly the lord of waters wondered where that god had gone to. His thoughts were tainted by a fear that the god may have been lost in the dying of Culthet. If their creator would not or could not tend to these things, however, then Harkon would see to them. He directed the storms to cover the outer surface of the world, to protect it from the void beyond. There they would live, in some ways making that place more tolerable, being shrouded against that unsane vision, yet harsher on life as well.
Titan’s Glacier floated between the void and the world, above the waters of the outside place. Indeed, as Harkon swam by he could tell that the Godspire was right beneath it, on the inside of the planet. The living storms crowded around the ice in the sky, as if they were trying to protect the shell of the world from the sight of the creatures encased there. Even from their slumber, the god could feel their corrupting influence on the world. It was good that they were so far away from the inner world.
Continuing on Harkon re-entered the world from the other side of the veil, near the sunshroud mountains.
0PP, Harkon moves the living storms to the outside of the world, setting them up as cloud cover preventing people on the surface from seeing the void.
Cruias, alone on the mountainside below the Tomb of Itja-Rek, stared out at the world beyond. A vast expanse of grass, trees, and the mountains around him, it was far more vital than the darkness from which he had come. He enjoyed the life, the warmth, the sun. As he floated there on the rocky slope, he didn't notice the hours passing as he kept his vigil, thinking about the first day of his life.
It was obvious that the Otherness that had spawned him was abhorrent to others, particurarly that dragon-god who had greeted Mother Itja-Rek briefly. Mother himself had been wary of Cruias at his obvious connection the void, and that hat god had ran away too upon seeing his nature. Other than The Mother, it did not seem as though his nature would be well accepted. Not that he begrudged them that.. the Otherness scared him, too. Perhaps more than the gods would know.
Having seen his creator's transformation, Cruias knew that it would be a good idea to conceal his connection the Otherness, or be rid of it alltogether if possible. Not having any way to be sure his Otherness would be gone, even if he could somehow seperate himself from it, he imagined the best way to conceal it and suppress it.
As he sit and pondered, a wolf padded up behind the unsuspecting god. Not knowing what to make of this strange black blotch against the sky, it circled in confusion. It smelled like death, but it did not look like carrion. As the wolf walked around the oblivious young god, it suddenly swiped at Cruias's form, it's paw going straight for the hole in the sky... and suddenly shearing off as it contacted the god's body. Feeling the surge of hunger, Cruias finally looked up to see the wolf, who had then launched itself in fury. Too slow to move completely out of the way, Cruias felt the void feast on the wolf's flank, bisecting the wolf cleanly where it had touched.
Saddened by the proof of his innately destructive nature, Cruias started when a flock of large black birds, who had come to see to the dead wolf's disposal. As they feasted on the carrion, Cruias considered how appropriate it was. Death was unavoidable, and the birds signal the demise of the living. An ominous sign indeed...
Hardly pausing to consider what he did, or how he'd do it, Cruias shrank down to a pinpoint, a miniscule speck of the void in the lit sky. As his form dwindled, the air around him began to come heavy with cold and frost, as ice spread across the ground. Startled by the sudden drop in temperature, the crows leapt away, fleeing across the sky- but no matter. A chill breeze swirled around Cruias's tiny form, creating a ice-cold fog around him. As the freezing temperatures continued to escalate, the water in the air froze with the fog, creating a hovering mass of ice, drawn inexorably inwards towards the Otherness.
The ice began to twist and shift, guided by the will of the god who made it. Two long wings erupted out of the sides of the icy mass, and matching claws of unfathomable cold appeared below, even as beady eyes took their place above the snapping beak. Now a huge crow formed of ice, Cruias hoped that perhaps he would find better reception by the gods... perhaps he might even conceal his original name, so that he might find less fear in his path.
Not knowing where he went, nor particurarly caring, Cruias leapt off the mountainside, flying in a random direction. The world was vast beyond, and surely there was much to see.
((OOC: Feel free to 'find' me wherever.
))A swarm a paraspiders formed at the base of the Egg Tree. The red beasts marched out of the Grove, and into the Mushroom forest and beyond. Plenty remained within the Grove, looked around slightly confused. Caltabactos happily picked one up and examined it.
"I remember these guys. I wonder why they weren't here before." He tore the spider in half and took out a venom sac. "Oh, there's a lot of fun to be had with these for sure."
A larger paraspider crept up to Caltabactos' feet and started eating the corpse of the one he clove in two. It was a tasty meal.
Caltabactos slowly brought the red venom sac up to his nose, and sniffed it. He smiled sheepishly at Aaviz. "Well, maybe if I just took a little sip..."
Flying aside the boat, he watched the interaction with bemusement. He decided that the wet one was not too far from the truth. He loved his dragons and one day they will be strong enough to do many things, but if he is going to enact any change it needs to be with a slightly smaller race. Completely ignoring the whole "oath" bit, he also decides to take his leave. "Good sir, I'm glad you have found new hope! Now I must depart so that I to can make a new hope for new peoples. Till we meet up again!" With that he flies off to find a suitable land for the new brood he wishes to bring in.
Mountains on the triskellion~
Finding a valley flush with life, he landed softly. Deciding this is a great place for a new civilisation to be born, he gets to work right away. Taking some small scales, he crumpled them up and then dusted the ground with them. Breathing some life onto where the scales landed, new life arose. Standing up from the ground on two legs instead of four, with powerful bodies. They resembled dragon's but yet they were not. "You who have been born of dragons, yet are not dragons yourself. You are the children of dragons. Those who came before will guide those that come after. Everything you need is right here, but it will not last if you do not take care of it. Grow, build, learn and pass the learning. If you do this you will become strong. Become arrogant, and you will fall. This I decree." And thus begins the rise of the dragonborn.
3PP: Spawn Race - The Dragonborn have risen.
My, this new world truly was wonderous, was it not? Despite her hurting heart, and all that had happened, the Mother couldn't help but marvel at how the two worlds merging as one seemed so... right. Like it had been intended all along. She had suspected it was a natural occurrence, but she had never expected it to have such a natural result. In the darkness that was the world between worlds, all had seemed dull, and lifeless. And since then, she had only seen the outside of the world crafted by The One Who Is Actually Two One Of Which Was A Different Gender To The Other. Inside it was far more marvelous! She would have to thank him/her for all this some day...
Ah, and there was her Hive, as it always was... despite it all, her Children had remained at home in it, safe for the most part from the ravages of the world... she would truly be grateful to be reunited with her Children. And... what was this? There were other Children down there! Odd looking Children, with four arms and multi-layered eyes that stood on a mere two legs. She had not birthed such creatures... but they looked so like something that she WOULD birth! Did this mean... that perhaps there was another Mother like herself in this world after all??
But that was neither here nor there right now... these Children were like her own, and even though she had not birthed them, she would still love them and call them her own.
Buzzing down to land in front of a group of the creatures, they recoiled a little in fright, but the Mothers pheromones put them at ease... they were not ones of anger, but ones of tenderness and love.
"What are your names, young ones?" the Mother asked kindly.
The Troinat did not know whether she meant their individual names or the name of their kind, so they decided to answer with the latter. "We are the latter... stranger?"
The Mother 'smiled' gently. "I am the Mother. And from this day forth, you are my Children... here, my Children deserve prosperity for their efforts."
With a grunt, the Mother again cut open her side, her blood spilling out onto the ground in front of the Troinats. Needless to say the Troinats were surprised at this, but were even more surprised when the ground on which her blood spilled grew numerous tall plants, many of which seemed very appetizing!
"Eat my Children," the Mother urged, sensing their hesitation. "Eat, and be strong and happy."
And so they did... and the food was delicious! Not only that, they seemed... stronger somehow. Better. Happier. Those that ate the fruit would bear much more young than their brethren, and require less food to fill them. They would be more content, and others would ask about this fruit. To which the Troinats would simply softly, and shake their head, saying it was not the fruit that made them so... but knowing that they had a Mother looking after them and over them.
2PP + 1PP from Oath - The Mother nourishes the Troinats to grow numerous, strong, and content. And, she admits, to gather a few more Childrens love to her side.
[6/9]
~Mindflayer settlement on the Triskelion Continent~
The last of the recent brain moss harvest had been gathered into the storehouses and the mind flayers sat back that evening, relaxing and looking up at the night sky, watching the moon drift across the black expanse. Mani was well fed tonight, he glowed full and brightly. Life was good. Now that the crops were in, the full moon signaled that they’d begin hunting Eladrin soon. It was a harvest moon, a hunter’s moon.
In the cool of the night a fog rose up around the village, seeping under doors and through window cracks. It slipped around the necks of sleeping men and women and children.
In the morning a great wail wafted along the winds, emanating from that village. Many had been strangled in their sleep, their lives cut short. There seemed to be no pattern; two had lain down in the same bed and only one awoke to see the sunrise.
That night there was no hunting. Rather, the mind flayers locked their doors and set up guards, afraid that this might be some new, Eladrin trick. They would send word to others of their kind; this attack could not be tolerated.
~Arborwrath Eladrin settlement on the Triskelion Continent~
Every night since the last full moon Eladrin had awoken from their rest with dreams and visions of violence befalling their people. These visions were of mind flayers coming over the planes and hills in endless torrents, striking down the sacred protectors of the land with impunity.
Only a few at first expressed concerns, but as the nights wore on more and more spoke openly of striking out at the aberrant creatures before their visions could come true.
War was in the morning mists.
The dragonborn were living a life of mostly peace. Gathering crops, hunting game, and building their villages. Tending to their needs. They knew that peace could not live forever, but for now they enjoyed what peace that they had.
Elsewhere~
A dragon and an eladrin faced off. Possible allies or enemies remain uncertain for now.
Astriluxus looked down and smiled for he knew his plans had been put into motion.
Absalom sat for a moment on a rocky outcropping that jutted forward from the jagged mountain behind, providing a natural perch from whence to observe the valley below. Stretching for many leagues before his eyes, the gentle depression of the land had a quant charm. The grass gently wafting as a cool breeze passed by, that same breeze stirring the leaves of the forests and reminding the God of Beauty of his own birth, the packs of Quill-Hounds that could be seen sprinting across the open between forests as they hunted lesser prey.
This is a good start, thought Absalom, however he knew that his project was far from complete. Standing up on the jagged platform, the Golden God spread his arm’s wide and channeled a large amount of his divine power into the creation of yet more creatures. A piercing avian cry echoed from behind him in the mountains, followed soon by other similar cries and shrieks until a chorus of hundreds could be heard. The symphony of avian shrieks rapidly had a new voice join it, this one a terrifying and mighty roar.
Hundreds of shadows began to frame the Golden Gods form, blocking the sun behind him as it climbed towards the top of the peaks. The owners of those shadows soon passed, and a vast array of creatures swarmed past towards the valley below. They could broadly be divided into two kinds of creatures, one had the hindquarters of a large goat and the forequarters of a great lion, with the leathery wings of a dragon. However, the most outstanding feature of this beast was the three heads it possessed, one a horned goat, one a lion lacking a mane, the third a fierce dragon. The other class of beast was also a quadruped capable of flight, but these resembled a lion with the forelegs, head, and wings of a great eagle.
2pp Spawn Beast- Absalom creates Chimera’s that dwell in the crags and peaks of his mountain range, they descend to hunt the in the lower foothills and occasionally all the way to the forests proper of the valley below.
3pp (1 from Masquerade) Spawn beasts- Absalom spawns all Griffin varieties, which also dwell in the mountains.
The quiet life the dragonborn lived was not well shouldered by all. A few younglings of one of the outlying settlements began to grow restless. How could they prove their worth growing crops or hunting the puny game of the land? They needed a real challenge; there honor would hold with nothing less.
No one was sure who started the rumor, but throughout the settlement, and others near by, there began to be talk of worthy prey not too far away; strange beasts that appeared to be vaguely dragonborn, though far thinner and lacking scales and ridges. These things were slimy with tentacles on their face, but they were said to be cunning. A fine quarry for a youngling to test themselves against, a fine trophy to bring home.
Some dragonborn even began to talk of forming hunting parties to go out and find these things.
Little attention was paid to the fog that rolled in every evening and burned off at first light.
As Absalom gazed up towards the sky, still standing upon that same stone perch, something strange caught his eye. His new beasts of prey seemed to be circling about an entity in the sky, some sort of large bird that caught the light in a rather odd manner.
Taking a single step forward off the ledge, the Golden God re-appeared a moment later in front of the entity, which he could now discern was composed entirely of ice. “Tell stranger, who are you and what brings you to my land?”
Absalom chuckles slightly and responds, “You are not intruding, you merely drew the attention of some of my newest creations,” with that the Golden God extended one arachnid leg out to the side to indicate the Chimera’s and Griffin’s circling not too far off “And I sought to investigate.”
“As for tomb, if by that you mean the abode of Itja-Rek, yes I was present for a short time. Though I cannot say I recall seeing you, or at least not in this form?”
You are right oath brother. Lovely goddess of wind if you want to know more, follow me to the forge. I shall see again soon friends.
With that Umbart jumped from the boat and fell. He fell towards the godspire and plunged through the waterfall to land in the mamga pool below.
My new heart is good but good enough. I must forge a more powerful one.
Umbart entered the core of the forge and began to pull the dragon metel in. Umbart crafted and yet his creation would not live. Umbart tried several times and they all failed. Then Umbart knew what was wrong, he need the help of those who would worship him.
Exiting the forge Umbart crafted and man and woman in his own image. The were of the holy dragon metal and yet not alive. With a claw Umbart opened his wrist and washed their metal forms with his own blood. As the blood infused with the metal, the statues became flesh.
The new beings drew their first breath and knew who they must serve. Even though the must serve him they must test his worth first. With shared glance between themselves and the god, they laid into him with fang and claw.
The fight was long and difficult for all. Umbart could have killed them with blow, blow but forcing them to submit without killing them was very challenging indeed. After several hours of grueling combat both sides were tired and bloody. Still the new couple would not submit. Umbart and those sculpted in his image fought. Day after day the dual continued, but after a week of combat the couple could go no further. Unable to move and barely alive they, at last, swore to serve the creator until they died.
Good, for now rest. You are to be the mother and father of my children. You are to guide them and lead them. Teach them of Honor and War. Will give to them that witch is us. Gather you strength for our children shall inherit this world and make it their own.
With that Umbart went off alone, not wanting to reveal how he injured he himself was.
2/9 PP
-4pp ascend the Immortal couple (arbitration exarch)
-1 PP towards spawn race (oath)
-1 to divine combat until the end of the week
Nodding towards the newborn deity, Absalom motioned with one of his arms for him to follow as the God of Beauty began to drift towards the valley below. As they approached, slowly descending from on high, more and more of the landscape became clear. The small streams and babbles interspersed throughout the somber forests, the gentle rolling hills of the topography, even the birds and beasts that grazed in the land came into view.
“You see stranger, I am an artist of sorts, and this will be the canvas for my newest creation. A race of mortals akin to myself, children that shall look upon me as their father, they shall be my masterpiece.”
Reaching the earth and feeling the tickle of the grass upon his arachnid legs, Absalom began to walk through one of the forests. “They shall be my masterpiece, for in them shall exist the ability to create their own works, and to multiply meaning in this world.” Walking underneath the canopy of the trees, the God of Beauty beckoned towards some of the fauna, “For us this is just another forest, another abode for woodland life to thrive, however for my children this place could possess unlimited potential. It could become a secret abode for forbidden lovers, the final resting place of a lost son, it could be poignant with the memories and meanings of hundreds of individuals, all at the same time. For that is where the true beauty of my children will be, for like unto Gods they will impart meaning upon this world beyond its mere material existence.”
Suddenly turning back to gaze at the other deity with a searching look in his eye, Absalom stated “I find it curious that you call us mothers? Where did you learn that title?”
She studied the blade for a moment longer and summoned it away. The blade disappeared, but the blade's energy was felt deep inside her. She followed the other god down towards the spire.
On her way down, a sudden jolt of divine energyflowed through her and sent her spiraling down towards the spire. The pain of the energy was so intense that she did not notice that she had gone down the hole where Umbart flew into. The goddess bounced off of various protruding rocks and eventually made her way down to the bottom-- miraculously on top of a rock that portruded up from the lava flow and flattened out into a tabletop.
Schi'vya rolled around, trying to keep herself from giving into the most dire pain. Before that point, a small essence left her form and it soon molded into a sort of humanoid figure-- which had a similar form to Schi'vya, but a much different appearance. The figure had a strong aura of divinity, and soon Schi'vya lay almost motionless.
0pp- Ascend Inimicus
Current PP- 1/9
Perhaps it would just be best if the god known as Cruias was no more, so that the others did not feel fear over his very existence. Self-preservation of himself and they.. Startled by Absalom's sudden query, he snapped his attention back to his fellow god. "I heard it from one who called herself The Mother. Is it not an appropriate title?"
Poras had been waiting for weeks for the return of his son, Aikus, for some time now. Aikus had embarked on a raid to kill the new slimy creatures, but had yet to return or send any sign that he was still alive. Poras had almost given up hope when, just a hundred yards or so away, he saw him. He ran to embrace Aikus, but stopped just short, noticing a strange new scar on his head. The scar looked way to organized to be the random slash of the sword. "Aikus, what is tha-" he started, before his son interrupted, "Father, the ilithids were more powerful than we thought. The rest of the hunting party was slaughtered. I was spared only because they judged that I was worthy. They have informed us of other creatures, with other new powers. They offered me the chance to hunt these new creatures, and survive, if I serve them faithfully. They have sent me to offer you and the others this oppurtunity, and to deliver this warning. If you insist on attacking us we will kill you. And as for this," he said, pointing to the scar, "this is a mark that I am a servant of Nihiliath. It tells ilithids that I am not supposed to be eaten." And with that, Aikus walked away, never to see his father again.
Nihilian Settlement
The Nihilian High Council was preparing for war. The eladrin had developed a new weapon that threatened the existence of Nihiliath. They were growing an abnormaly large number of mindflayers in preparation for the battle that would surely come. The slave-beasts they were capturing served to further bolster the ranks of their millitary. Also, the slave-beasts were excellent millitary leaders, and the Nihilians quickly turned the slave-beasts into instructors at millitary academies, and the results were clear; the newly trained soldiers were stronger, faster, tougher, and fought smarter than ever before. The slave-beasts were also humble, claiming that they had not taught the lessons, but that they were guided by voices in their heads. The High Council didn't really care if the instructors were insane, however, as long as their soldiers continued to serve Nihiliath well. Their preperations complete, the soldiers were stationed on the settlements' walls and in other key areas, where they awaited further orders and/or the eladrin assault.
PP
9/9 PP + 1 from Ur
-1 PP Nourish Populace Nihiliath: Dragonborn join Nihiliath, primarily as expendable soldiers, laborers, and drill sergeants.
-1 PP Nourish Populace Nihiliath: The mindflayers grow more larvae in vats to serve as soldiers for the coming battle.
-1 PP (from Ur) Nourish Populace Nihiliath: Nihilian soldiers are better trained, thanks to the dragonborn drill sergeants who are hearing voices in their heads.
7/9 PP remaining
Sensation. Sublime in its subtlety, painful in its introduction. Scorched earth surrounded the godling; a cavernous expanse of blackened rock and bubbling magma. Confusion. So many new feelings, yet so little understanding. Floating, or rather, fading around, the blurry newborn took in its depressing surroundings. Looking down, it noticed another creature, seemingly out of place. It rested on a curiously shaped rock jutting from the magma flow. The being was almost completely transparent, glowing with odd colors. It looked so familiar, but so strange at the same time. What purpose did this being serve? The godling looked down at its hands, but could just barely make them out. It was as if its flesh were being presented to it through a dirty mirror, its motions blurred and out of synch.
Nothing made sense. Heat and dark mixed together, confusion and pain, sensation and assumption, so aggravating. The godling wanted out, out of this cursed place. It looked upwards; seeing only a cavernous tunnel leading to who knew where. Anywhere was better than here, the thing reasoned, and it began to rocket upwards towards the tunnel, but not before sending a glance towards the motionless being on the flat piece of rock at the bottom. Was it this translucent, glowing being that put it here? Was this some sort of test? Regardless, the godling thought, there must be more places than this pit of lava and stone. Looking upwards once again, the godling exploded into motion, rocketing through the tunnel faster than the eye could blink.
The tunnel soon turned into a dead end, growing ever larger in the godling’s eyes. Unphased, the godling accelerated and bored into the solid rock face. Earth crumbled around it, melting away from the sheer friction. The solid rock was closing in, it thought, it must go faster. Suddenly, the rock was no longer there. Blinding, burning light flooded the godling’s sensitive form. Shrieking in surprise, the godling accelerated to such a speed that it created an immense crater in the side of the mountain it just bored through. The godling, wondering if this was all part of some test of worth, shot into the sky, announcing his birth to all in a trail of fiery divinity.
Itja-Rek spat the draught of creation from his mouth into the clay in his hands, watching as the golden energy seeped into the inert mass he had pulled out of the riverbank.
He did not have to wait long before the draught, like overactive yeast, permeated the clay and began to bubble, expanding the dense mass outwards. Itja-Rek tried to disturb the process as little as possible, gently guiding the expanding clay while trying his best not to collapse it in upon itself. For what he needed today, the inner essence of his creation would have to be lighter than air.
The form expanded, burbling into the shape of a human. After a time, Itja-Rek passed his hands over the creation, stopping the expansive progress and directing the clay to form the more delicate features of a complete individual. Through the power of the Draught, the being's body turned to flesh and hair and other defining features appearing all across the body. Finally, the vessel lay before him, ready to fulfill its purpose.
After the incidents in the Tomb, Itja-Rek had realized that his current system for gathering souls was inefficient, sending one being out to collect souls one at a time from races that only had one soul to give could not keep up with the plans he had for the future. Instead, he needed something more efficient... a being who would not only have more souls than normal, but who would willingly give them up to him... the perfect servants and the perfect source of power.
And so it was that Itja-Rek gestured and turned the one form into two: a young boy and a young girl of about ten. He stood over the boy, and reaching into his being, pulled out a soul and placed it within the body, following it with another and another up to nine in number. As the boy's eyelids blinked wildly as it tried to think and comprehend what was happening to it, Itja-Rek stepped to the right and repeated the process with the girl.
Soon, the two Bahenet awoke, and Itja-Rek watched them for a time. Every once in a while one or the other would say something out loud, often cutting off in mid-sentence as if hastily silenced. At long last, the boy's eyes seemed to focus and he looked at Itja-Rek.
"Too many voices. Help. Us." he whispered.
Itja-Rek nodded. For his plans to work, it was vital that the Bahanet think that what came next had been their desire from the beginning. He picked up the boy and girl, and flew them to the Altar of Initiation.
"I have watched the two of you for some time now, and I believe I know a solution to your problems" he told the boy, setting them both down next to the altar and pulling out a ritual blade from behind it. "You must be brave, but I promise that I will not kill you. In fact, this will likely save your life." For now...
He lifted the boy up onto the altar and, after admonishing the boy to keep still, began waving the blade in ritual motions over the boy's body. After several long minutes, he chanted some words of power and brought the blade down four times: once near the boy's head, one under each armpit and once between the boy's knees.
The boy gasped in shock and began convulsing in a seisure. As Itja-Rek watched, the boy began to grow and change, lengthening into the body of a young man. Beneath him, the god could feel the first soul of the not-so-little-anymore boy speeding off underground towards the Tomb and the Distillery.
After a moment, the man stopped shaking and opened his eyes, looking down at his new body with wonder. He turned to the god.
"My mind is clear now, great one. Thank you for your blessing and help."
Itja-Rek smiled. "And now I shall show you how to do this yourself, such that when their time comes all of the Bahenet need not perish."
And so the man and Itja-Rek lifted the little girl onto the altar, and Itja-Rek taught the man the sacred movements and words to release the soul of the child. Soon, woman and man stood together in the Plaza of the Altar, bowing before Itja-Rek, who smiled his most convincing smile and bade them follow him back to where they should live. He showed them the secret pass through the Sunshroud, instructed them in the best ways to avoid the Sun's burning light and led them to the patch of earth he had created earlier, and after giving them a small hut, he left.
Soon, the Bahenet couple expanded into a family, and from a family into a small village.
3 PP (1 from Distillery): Shape Populace: The Bahenet. Please look at the wiki for details.
2/9 + 1/2 (arbitration) left
Casting out a web of magic, he gathered up a few dozen of the spiders, pushing them gently into his hat. Once they were all inside, he shoved his giant golem in there as well, then he carefully placed it back on his head and bowed to his hosts. "It was most excellent to meet you, most very excellent indeed, but i have things I must do, many things to do."
And withy that, he was gone, dashing madly through the mushroom forest, recklessly charging ahead without even watching where he was going. Several unfortunate mushroom trees were felled by his rush before he escaped the bounds of the forest. Breaking free, he increased his speed, holding his hat tightly as he dashed through an odd building where mindflayer leaders were gathering, slamming two wholes right through the walls. Finally, he burst from the land onto the ocean veil, leaping into the air as he reached the hole high above his continent. Falling through the air, flipping and turning as he went, he whipped off his hat, letting the spiders fall freely, scattering across the land below.
Landing in a heap on the floating island high above the continent, he stood up, a wicked little smile on his face as he glared down at the land. "Not nearly interesting enough, not nearly indeed.Need to add some more greenery before I begin my newest project."
Lifting a handful of small pebbles from the ground nearby, he muttered several incantations, infusing them with life. Watching them change form, he nodded his satisfaction and hurled them over the edge to fall to the world below. "An excellent start, and excellent start indeed. But my next project will need food as well as shelter, so my task is far from complete, not complete at all."
Snatching up another handful of stones, he murmured at them once more,focusing the energy in a different fashion. Hurling them out over the edge as well, he watched them fall to the land below.
"Perfect, perfect. Food and shelter, not to begin the experiment." Whipping his hat from his head, he reached inside, and frowned, pulling out the strange metallic object. "When did I get this? And why do I have it?" His eyes widened. "Oh yeah, I completely forgot I was looking for this."
Waving his hand, a small clay bird appeared. Looking at it with a glare like it was about to disobey him, he spoke to it slowly. "Now, you get up there and find Itja-Rek right this moment. NBo dawdling, no delays. Try the Hive, since it's one your way, and if he's not there, then check his Tomb. You tell him that I'd like to see him right away, and then lead him back here. Understand?"
The bird remained motionless in the air, but he nodded anyways. "Of course you do. Now go, hurry up and find him."
As the bird shot skyward, he pulled out the last two spiders carefully. "Now, for the rest. Your poison weakens the mind of those you bite, but you are as mindless as any other spider. I wonder, what might happen if we gave you a mind of your own?"
1 PP - Nourish Land - Add a variety of trees to the floating continent
1 PP - Nourish Land - Add a variety of small game, as well as deer, to the floating continent.
2 PP - Shape Populace - Starting the creation of a populace, to be finished later
The inner pressure had returned, voices burbling out of his mouth at inopportune times, his mind buzzing with thoughts, some of which he was certain were not his own. And so he, his sons and his wife began the long trek across the Sunshroud, a three day long journey from the pleasant valley of Baheshep, where the Bahenet people were thriving. This would be the fourth time he had come to the altar for what they were now calling 'Severance', the act of relieving the pressure within their heads by silencing one of the dissonant voices forever. Praise be to the god Itja-Rek who had revealed the key to their survival!
As it had been the first time, each ritual had aged the man somewhat, so that now he appeared to be in his late 40s, although for his actual age he could not be certain. Regardless, this trek was not nearly as easy as it had been before.
Coming with him, clamboring over the rocks eagerly were two of his grandchildren, both on their way to their first Severance. After his wife had performed the task for him, he would be the official for both of them, being their guide into adulthood. He had just a week earlier decided that they were ready for the ritual. Their learning was done and it was time for them to progress. For one, the ritual could not be delayed anyways... already he was showing signs of Crowding, although it had not progressed to the point of affecting his coordination, unlike his fifth grandson before his Severance. The other had yet to show signs of Crowding, but everyone knew it was just a matter of time, and he was eager to do the ritual along with his brother.
The band stopped for a time to allow the sun to pass through the Veil, then made their way forward by torchlight. This way they would have plenty of time to prepare and return before the bright sun returned to the Plain of the Altar.
And then, they were there, the black altar before them. Relieved, the man lay down and his wife picked up the ritual blade that had been left them by the God. After a few minutes, it was done, and the man, wrinkles now faintly scoring his face and hair beginning to turn white, stood up and gestured for one of his grandsons.
About an hour later, it was done, and the family returned through the Mountains. The man grunted as his hip twinged after stepping wrong on an outcropping. Getting old was rough.
~Ordarak-Rek~
Itja-Rek soon was found by the messenger, and followed it back to Aaviz.
"You wished to speak to me?"
Rumours spread throughout the streets like wildfire. Night had fallen, as it did every evening, but it was not followed by the day. A great purple fog hung over the settlement, blocking the light of the sun and moon, turning day into perpetual night. For three days this lasted, until the people were in a panic, convinced that the end was near.
On noon of the third day a column of fog descended from the sky and rested on the gathering place of the High Council. A divine voice echoed through the city, reverberating on every wall until each person heard the words spoke. "Alkerzilak will come to me, or this city will die."
Despair waited for the mortal, but he was not patient.
Handing the crown to Itja-Rek, he nodded. "Yes, I went and found this for you, but hadn't the time to come to you personally. So I figured I'd call you."
Turning back to the creatures, he nodded. "Bit busy trying to get these things to come back to life at the moment. Not quite sure exactly what I'm doing wrong. Any ideas?"
"Oh good. This should stop any more... events... even if it is painful to wear."
He looked down at the forms beneath him.
"What you need, Aaviz, are souls. Luckily for you, I happen to have quite a few extra."
The god reached into himself and threw souls over the prone forms, which soon began to move.
1 PP for finishing the shaping of the race.
Snapping his fingers, they appeared in the newly growing forests far below. THen, he muttered something under his breath, and the spider goo, which covered his arms up to the shoulder, as well as some spots on his head, vanished as well.
"Thank you for the assistance. I do wonder how they'll fare though, down in those new forests."
The two Gods, one opulent gold and the other somber Ice, passed through the forest un-accosted, observing the workings of nature all around. Slowly at first the trees began to change, their grandeur faded and instead the Gods were now walking among adolescent saplings, still finding their place in the earth of this land. Eventually, even those young trees were left behind and the Gods walked upon the gently rolling grassy hills.
"Mothers is an interesting title," spoke Absalom as he rubbed his chin in consideration. "However I find it most telling that one called The Mother would presume to title everyone else Mothers. It speaks of a desire for universality, but also a sort of arrogance. In a land of Mothers, when you are 'The Mother' you are placing yourself as the first among equals...."
"However it is not a terrible title, Mothers give birth to children, and they create life in a sense as do we. At the same time though, we have the power to mold the very earth and fundamental laws of the universe, we can provide for our children as no mortal mother ever could. There is also the problem that the word Mother has a connotation towards one specific gender."
At this point the two beings reached the crest of one hill, and lying before them was the mighty roaring river that marked the boundary of Absalom's territory. Stretching before the deities, on the other side of the rushing banks, were the gigantic sprouts of the Mushroom forest and the imposing fortresses of the Triskellion could be glimpsed in the distance.
"Personally, I prefer the term Gods or Deities perhaps."
Alkerzilak, who, conviently, had been appointed to the High Council a week earlier, stepped forward and said to the mist, "I am here. Who are you, and what do you want?"
While wondering the forge and recovering his strength from his battle, umbart saw the injured god of the winds. Without thinking twice, Umbart plunged in to the Magma, normally this would be nothing but now the god was bleeding. The magma flowed into god and burned in severely, one eye was burned away and all the hair was instantly consumed by fire. The god of war ignored all of this, he must swim.
Quickly reaching the table rock, Umbart pulled is burnt form the the lave and heaved a sigh of relief. Slowly and tenderly Umbart cradled the unconscious god is his arms
What happened to you? Are you okay?
Elsewhere in the forge the immortal couple was doing what couples did. Soon the mother of orcs was pregnant and just as quickly she gave birth. With the blood of god still on them the first generation of orcs was born and matured much more quickly then normal.
Within a few day a small community or orcs had grown and begun its life. Survival was difficult here in the forge for food was scare and monsters were plentiful. Fortunately, orcs only need meat to live and they quickly became superb hunters. They had not yet met their god who below them in the glowing pool, but they were taught their purpose by the primordial orcs whom Umbart had crafted with his own hand.
They worked to grow strong for they knew that Umbart would soon call. They must be ready. They would not fail him. They knew that with Umbart lay glory.
0/9 PP
-2 PP finish spawn race: The orcs are made strong and small community develops around the forge.
In the cool of the evening the fog of Despair seemed all the more oppresive to those gathered. A chill entered each council member there, causing even their face tentacles to shiver. The mad eyes of the exarch focused on Alkerzilak, peering into the nature of the creature. This, he suspected and hoped, would not go according to plan.
"You will lead your people, this Nihilian nation," Despair spat the words as if they tasted foul, though he had no noticable mouth, "away from this place. I don't care where you go, but you will go. By the next new moon, any of your ilk still on the surface of this continent will be dealt with."
The demigods eyes turned red as he looked at the others gathered there. "And to show that this is not an unpleasant dream..." Half of the council members froze in their place. The tips of their tentacles fell first, then their heads slide off this bodies, as if cut clean through by an axe.
"I.. I'm not sure... I feel fine, I think..."
It was a strange moment for her. Whatever had happened to her had made her stonger, but weaker at the same time. It was a mesmerizing pain, but it was subtle. She felt the presence of a strange, new deity, but it was too faint to tell.
"Hey... while we are here... I think there was... something you wanted to tell me... If I remember correctly..."
Despair let out a long and hearty laugh, like the howl of the hunting orionid. "A whim."
Hulna had been watching the recent Nihiliath-related events with great interest. It appeared that a divine entity, apparently on a whim, wanted to scare his followers out of their pants and then force them out of their lands. After taking a moment to appreciate this new being's style, Hulna decided to intervene. The Nihilians needed a confidence boost, he decided, so appearing in this form which mortals were unable to perceive was not the best idea. So Hulna carefully sculpted some rocks which contained the proper, precise chemical compositions and imbued them with psionic energy, causing them to glow pink. Hulna then arranged the crystals into a humanoid form and transfered his essence and power into the resulting construct, which appeared in the Nihilian capital.
Nihilian Capital
Alkerzilak joined the mysterious being in laughter before saying, "All right then. I will begi-" at which point he was interrupted by a flash of light and the appearance of a being made out of crystal, who said, "Hold that thought, Alkerzilak." The creature turned to the pillar of mists and said, "I am Hulna, God of Psionics, the Secret Keeper, Master of Manipulation, Patron of the Powerful, He Who Has a Large Number of Titles, Witness of the Deaths of Two Worlds, Lord of Telepathy, and He Who Has a Very Large Number of Titles. Who are you, and what right do you have to threaten my servants?" Alkerzilak and the others seemed shocked, which was understandable, and after they had time to process everything that had just happened, they knelt down in proper reverance. However, they kept their eyes pointed at the divine beings to see what was going on. With relative ease, Hulna tore through the metaphorical fog of despair this being had clouded the minds of the ilithids with, and he awaited for the creature's response.
PP
7/9 PP
-5 PP Ascend Avatar: Hulna has a shardmind-like body in the Nihilian capital.
2/9 PP Remaining
Wizdude, I think you meant to create avatar, not exarch.
Can I get up now? the Nihilians thought. No, the Voice responded. Why are we doing this anyway? Who is this joker? they asked. He is who he claims he is, the Voice responded. And how do we know we can trust you? they asked, to which the Voice responded, You CAN'T trust me, or anyone else for that matter. But you SHOULD listen to me. They asked the Voice, Why? She responded, Because I am- "his daughter," switching to speaking as Ur appeared beside her father. "I am Ur, daughter of Hulna and sister of the ilithids, and I do not take kindly to you threatening my little siblings." As she said this, she and her father let their divine natures shine through so that the intruder could see them, and then Hulna added, "Especially when the threat comes from a strange supernatural entity on a whim. Now, can we all be friends here, or am I going to have to tear your mind into a million pieces, each of which trying to destroy the others?"
"Ur?" Despair asked, incredulously, unable to prevent himself from looking in her direction. "Really, Ur?"
He turned back to Hulna. "You named your daughter Ur? Well, my days of not taking you seriously are certainly coming to a middle."
Once more discarding the god, he looked Alkerzilak in the eyes. "It would appear that you now have an independent reason to leave this place. The neighborhood," his eyes darted in the direction of Hulna and Ur, "is going down hill."
Another half of the council fell over, blood running from their eyes and mouths. "Delay no longer," he said to Alkerzilak.
Poras quickly returned to the village elders with the news. Scarcely believing their ears with what they heard, they sent messengers to other villages. Quickly they returned with similar news. Many of their kind had been subdued and turn into these "servants". The village elders quickly called to council with the other village elders. The pride of the dragonborn could not be shaken so easily, nor could they let this offence stand. They prayed and asked for guidance, and guidance was given: "Prepare for war proud warriors. This will be a challenge for you. Overcome and be prosperous, fail and be wiped out. When hope seems darkest a light will appear."
Astriluxus seemed sure that the dragonborn will rise to the challenge. They are his pride after all. Just in case though, he flew to the waltzing mountains. In the dreams of his eldest golden dragon, he whispered in the dragon's ears the location of the dragonborn, and to watch and wait for when the dragons would be needed.
Waltzing Mountains next day~
The elder gold dragon woke up with a start. His children were being tested! He called over his mate, and they discussed this. After a while, she agreed. She asked their eldest son, a large gold dragon in his own right, and a silver to both keep seperate eyes on the villages. Hiding in seperate mountains, the two dragons kept watch on the dragonborn villages as they prepared for the challenge ahead of them.
A small community of Eladrin settled around a small fire, ablaze with a majestic beauty. It was a true sight for them. The chieftain walked out from one of the crudely made wooden hut. The chief wore a skull of a Stormbird on his head, and his clothing were laden with the feathers of the mighty bird. The villagers around him started chanting and circled around the fire. The chief stuck out his hands in silence after a few minutes of the chanting.
"My fellow friends. It is time again to honor the great soul of this celestial avian creature-- this bearing the name of Stormhawk-- and to summon its spirit up into the heavens, as it had fallen down. A sign that the gods above have spoken to us. This spirit has brught a message to us, saying that 'War is on the horizon and we must prepare ourselves.'" The chieftain glanced upon the villagers, the few but vast number of them in the small village. "We must be wary of this world; we must think like the spirit of Stormhawk. It is our time to speak to the heavens, saying that 'We, the Eladrin of Stormhawk, shall take your oath to stop war from crossing paths with us.'"
As if it was not already a dramatic enough confrontation, now a new player entered the conversation. The Reaper slithered forward, baggy eyes fixing each participant with a haunting stare. Those councilmembers who found themselves near the once-naga backed away uneasily as the exarch made her way over to the dead mindflayers and quickly collected their souls, which she tossed into her basket. Finally done, she turned from the corpses and spoke.
"What lovely... death... we have here." The words slipped from her mouth like wriggling fish, wet, warbling and slippery. "We must... have more..."
She reached out and grabbed another mindflayer, twisting its neck until it snapped and with practiced ease pulled out the soul as the body fell.
"Don't... you agree?" She said, smiling and revealing black and rotting teeth.
~Ordarak-Rek~
Itja-Rek examined the Aranea for a few moments.
"I don't see why they wouldn't survive. They seem to be quite capable. Although, I feel they are awfully uniform at the moment. I shall remedy this."
Itja-Rek separated out a portion of the giant spiders below and imparted on them a new philosophy, one of peaceful, and it should be said, excited existence. He instructed them all to name themselves and their children Spider and to be as cute as possible, and friendly to all visitors save other Aranea, whom they were to distrust. He sent these Giant Intelligent Friendly Talking Spiders to find a cave to call their own, somewhere on the island.
1 PP: Guide Populace: Some of the Aranea adopt a friendly outlook on life and become the GIFTS.
0/9 +1/2 (arbitration)
~Nihilian Capital~
The new creature smelled sweetly of death and decay, and the boney rasp of its skin against stone was pleasing to hear. And this thing snapped the neck of that ilithid so provocatively. This one, at least, seemed to know what she was about. When she spoke there was no pompous posturing or poorly crafted threats, just a simple request and statement.
Despair reached out towards one of the other mindflayers. His arm seemed to pass through the creature's chest like it was water. After feeling around for a moment, the exarch withdrew his hand, bringing the creature's soul with it. Though there was no wound or mark upon the Ilithid, once its soul left its body it crumpled to the floor, dead. He tossed the wailing shade to the serpentine one.
"Quite. Perhaps there will be more for you, if this one doesn't answer correctly, and soon." He motioned towards Alkerzilak, who seemed to have lost his ability to speak. A shame, such silence was not conducive to his continued health.
Curious, he tilted his head as the snake-woman put the soul in her basket. "What do you do with those?"
The Reaper's eyes flashed with glee as she snatched the soul from midair and placed it in her basket.
"I... trade them... for glory." She hissed, wrapping her tail around the basket possessively as if the very mention of them might lead to their theft.
The reaper turned and slithered closer to Alkerzilak, running a talon-tipped finger down the mindflayer's head and pinching one of the Illithid's tentacles.
"Why... not answer?" She said, sliding around the mindflayer in what would have been a seductive fashion had the naga not looked so very disgusting.
"Or not... I do like... Death."
Alkerzilak was freaked out by the appearance of this strange new being. Sweet brainmoss! Why is this happening to ME!? he thought. After a moment of quiet contemplation, he turned to the great fog and asked, "How do I know you won't slaughter us as we're leaving? You've proved more than capable, and you yourself admitted that you decided to put us through this on a whim. You could easily destroy us as we're searching for a new home and starving to death."
"Does it matter?" Depsair asked simply. He motioned towards the dead council members, "Stay and, well..."
"Unless you think those two," he motioned towards Hulna and Ur, "can potect you. After all, they are two and I am one. As fine a chance as ever there were."
Something about the demigod's voice made it sound like the odds were in his favor.
"Well... yeah," Alkerzilak said, "it does matter. Why go through all the trouble when you can kill us now and we can keep our dignity intact?"
There was little celebration for ascencion of the new ruler, Anadomra. She was a Branded Virago, with the infinity symbol on her brow. Her gift was that of clairvoyance: Anadomra could see through space, giving her vital information on the whereabouts of Wygrove's enemies. This ability required a lot of exertion for her to perform, but over the many years she had lived, she wisely learned when and where to use it.
2PP - Guide - Geomancers in Wygrove are sometimes capable of controlling animals in the nearby area. Paraspiders, Krin, Orionids, and Mouthers are used in their military.
1PP - Nourish Wygrove
Alkerzilak found himself on the floor, every bone in his body broken, his flesh ribbed with cuts in just such a way so as to not be immediately fatal. In a few minutes, perhaps, unless his god decided to intervene.
Despair looked to the handful of surviving council members. "Leave. I make no promises save one; if you stay, I will see to it that every last one of you is wiped off the face of this continent."
He glanced back down for a moment, "For such impertinence, you will not know when my wrath will come, only that it will come, and soon."
The form of the demigod expanded, filling the room. The ilithids panicked; for a moment it felt as if they couldn't breathe, but it passed as the haze dispersed.
A faint voice whispered in the snake-woman's ear. "Soon."
Returning his gaze to the other god, he gave an agreeing nod to his reasoning. Though he did not feel that The Mother was overly arrogant, from what he'd seen of her, the logic was sound enough. If one thinks something for long enough, they become inured to it, after all.
"Where is this, then? There are many beings down there, among the hills.."
The giant birds that could shoot lightning at any unwary passersby if they got to close. It was not only a nuisance to the Thunderwaltz, but it was also detrimental to their numbers, since they couldn't deal with these new creatures. They bore a similar resemblance to the Stormbirds, yet they towered above the mighty birds by size and beauty. They would be known as 'Beautiful Tyrants.'
The godling’s otherworldly perception began to feed it information. Naiveté and confusion were replaced with understanding and knowledge. From its new vantage point several miles into the atmosphere, the godling saw many things. Vast forests that teemed with life, small settlements of curious beings, endless oceans filled with all manner of secrets. It sensed other beings like itself; beings with the power to mold the world. Beings with names: Itja-Rek, Davos, The Mother. The godling wanted a name. It sat amongst the clouds; its blurred form slipping in and out of cumulus. At last, it spoke in a voice that was as a thousand whispers, “Inimicus”
Although Inimicus was pleased with his new name and his new knowledge, something was missing.
The flora and fauna of the world seemed…listless. It was as if all of creation existed for the sake of itself, no improvement or purpose could Inimicus find. It was maddening. So much potential, so much grandeur, wasted on the decadence of paradise. Inimicus felt anger for the first time, clenching its fists, wishing that it could do something. It then stopped, sudden inspiration filling its mind.
“I was tested, and I turned out better for it,” Inimicus thought, “, so shall I test others.”
Reaching his hand into the sky, Inimicus plucked a star mote from the heavens and enclosed it in his hands. “With this of the sky, I do consecrate.” Inimicus reached below and scooped up some dirt. “With this of the land, I do consecrate.” Molding the two together, Inimicus infused it with his divine strength. When he opened his hands, a diminutive black box lay between them. Words suddenly flowed into his mind, and he spoke them. "Arca Nox."
Looking back into the land, Inimicus reached out with what remained of his godly power and seized the very foundations of the earth. A non-descript tower, about 20 stories tall, erupted forth from the cracked earth near the mountains from which he escaped.
Inimicus placed the box at the top of the tower. “Let this tower be filled with all manner of creatures, so as to weed out the unworthy.” And with that, Inimicus reached within the core of itself and placed a number of vile creatures into the tower; insectile and ravenous. Words flowed into his mind yet again, and this time they said "Kruthik".
The many legged, chitinous monstrosities began to burrow into the surrounding area, pockmarking the earth with holes and tunnels.
Inimicus was very pleased.
Mold Land (Moderate) Arx Inimicus: -2PP
Spawn Monster (lesser) "Kruthik": -1PP
2PP remaining
The Hive
After some time with her new Children, the Mother found herself wishing to visit the Trilobites... and was shocked to see them all looking rather be-grieved and harried looking. Oh my, had the travel between worlds been even harder on them than she had thought? ...no, that was not it. Some quick question revealed that they looked so because their most elderly elder, the first to hatch that had not been killed by Zero Zone Beasts or Skimmers or the like, was rapidly approaching their 1000th year... which, for the trilobites, meant certain death.
Needless to say the Mother was saddened by this news... one of the first Children she had hatched would perish soon, killed by the ravages of time... unless... hm, well there was an idea.
Approaching the bedside of the eldest Trilobite, the Mother reached down and picked him up in her mandibles, carrying him to an auspicious part of the chamber and plopping him down. Gathering her power, she bound his spirit to his shell, and even in deaths grip, his soul remained within it. Here, it could speak to and look over the trilobite people when she was away... her first born Child looking after her younger Children.
"From this day forth, you shall be known as the First," the Mother told him proudly. "Look after your fellow Children, and enjoy being able to watch them grow and prosper for eternity."
Over time, the shell would fossilize, and grow with stone, until the First was more a rock than a trilobite, albeit a trilobite one with the characteristic hole in their shell for their eyes, which continued to shine even after his body decomposed into powder. Despite it all, the First would remain honored and content for all of time.
4PP - Ascend Arbitration Exarch - The First is ascended from the First Trilobite, his soul being encase in his shell for all of time... despite how it sounds, its actually a pleasant existence.
[2/9]
“We are at the edge of my lands, where I can no longer claim to be the creator. Beyond the river lies the Triskellion, and it is far older than you or I,” Absalom replied as he looked towards the strange mountain in the distance. “It came from the plane of Mishway, and of late it seems that much activity has been taking place. I have not been paying as close of attention as I should, but I have sensed a great deal of divine energy seemingly hostile in its character over the past few weeks….”
“Look,” Absalom lifted one hand and extended a finger to point in the distance to where a strange ominous amber cloud seemed to hang heavy over a large gathering of buildings upon the Triskellion’s foothills. “Even now Gods or the messengers of Gods stake a claim, for surely you can feel the waves of power emanating from that not so distant shore?”
Just then as the two deities stood and gazed out towards the abnormal meteorological event that seemed to portend unknown but grave consequences for the Triskellion, a sound that was familiar to Absalom’s yet horribly out of place reached his ears.
Thwack!
The Golden God’s obsidian iris-less eyes grew wider for just a moment, and then faster than mortal eyes could perceive the God of Beauty was gone. A gentle listing of the air was all that betrayed that Absalom had stood upon the hillcrest a moment before, however he had launched himself through the air at a terrible velocity in search of the sound.
Plummeting rapidly towards the edge of one of the mid-sized forests that dotted the valley, Absalom dove through the upper canopy of the trees without disturbing so much as a leaf and spread his four arachnid legs wide, each catching a branch and only causing a small shudder in their trees. The golden tattood God hung in the mid-layers of the canopy, and as he did so the Persona seemed to lose some of its luster and rapidly morph its shade until one could not hope to perceive the God in the treetops.
Thwack!
“There it is again,” thought Absalom, “that abominable sound, the sound of an axe digging into the bark of a tree, felling one of my creations. More though, it is the clarion call of the intruder in my lands, of those that do not belong…..”
Looking towards the edge of the forest, Absalom caught a glimpse of the interloper. It was an anthropoid, possessing two arms, two legs, a head, but also a vestigial tale. Its body was covered in colored scales, with a long muzzle reptilian face, sharp teeth, and sharp claws.
Thwack.
Gingerly stretching forth one of the arachnid legs, then another, and then another, Absalom stalked through the trees like a predator enthralled with the scent of blood. He came closer and closer to the edge of the forest where the lone foreign entity struck at the trees. Drawing nearer, Absalom lifted high one of his four arachnid limps in synchrony with the creature lifting high its metallic axe. Both blade and limb began their descent at the same time, though Absalom was far faster, and before another thwack could echo through his land he had impaled the beast through the throat and slowly hefted it towards the God.
The axe fell from the reptile’s lifeless arms as it sat before the Persona, now regaining its Golden hue, as Absalom prepared to examine it more closely. Lifting the beast towards his face, Absalom’s jaw distended itself until his mouth grew disproportionally large, at which point a sliver of cloudy black energy emerged and in a single heartbeat fully consumed the beast, leaving nothing behind.
As his inner being dissected and digested, Absalom came to know the thoughts of the beast. It called itself a Dragonborn, and there were more of them in Absalom’s valley. They had been created here by divine entity named Asriluxes not long ago, and they were to thrive and grow in this land. Recently, some of their kin had been enslaved by mindflayers in the Triskellion, and the rest of the tribe was preparing for war with them.
“Well this changes things,” thought Absalom as he dropped from the treetops. As his form fell time and space warped around the deity, and instead of landing below the canopy of the forest he had been within he appeared right beside the Icy God he had left before.
“I apologize, but it seems a stranger has intruded upon my lands and decided they would better suit his children. Unfortunately this means that I must proceed far faster to the creation of my own children than I would have originally intended….”
Outstretching his hand, a single small mote of golden metal floated forth towards the Icy Crow, “I hate to ask this of you crowfather, but unfortunately I do not have the power at this time to complete my project with its quicker timeline. So I propose a deal, what I need are more creatures to populate this land before it is ready for my children, nothing specific, in fact I would cherish the addition of your creative talent. So, in exchange for you creating a beast or two to populate my lands, serving as part of the canvas upon which my children shall paint, I offer you a sliver of divine arbitration power….”
Stepping away from the frozen crow, turning towards the Mushroom Kingdom, , though he turned back to look at the Icy Crow for just a moment “And I will also be in your debt.”
With that Absalom took a single step and disappeared, thought the Golden Mote remained.
****
In the clearing surrounding the gnarled egg tree, wherein the Queen and her guests met, a clap of air announced the arrival of Absalom. Ignoring the others and stepping towards the diminutive form of Fiona, the God of Beauty got right to the point. “Dear Big Sister I have a problem. You recall my canvas? Well it appears someone else is painting on it….”
Landing softly on the lush grass of the forest bed, Cruias watched the birds fly away and the woodland animals flee from the giant bird of ice. It was only to be expected; he was certainly the invader here. So... the golden god wished for something upon which his own children could be raised and thrive, did he? Something unique to these forests, and tameable by those who might come later. A symbiosis, as much of the forest was..
Reaching into the earth with one cupped wing, Cruias tore part of it away, leaving a large gap of empty earth. Even there, life squirmed in the form of insects and moles. Gently placing the earth down upon a rock, Cruias considered how he might bring form to the creatures he intended. Surely he lacked the hands with which to shape it manually, to aid him in his task. An exercise of will it would be, then.
Chill breezes picked up immediately, parts of the clay freezing and sloughing off, as Cruias stood over it, staring intently. Under the god's gaze, the ball of clay took on an oval form, then grew four stumpy protusions- a quadruped in form. It'd body would be stocky and strong, with a thick skull and fierce natural weapons to defend itself and those who would live side by side with these new creatures. As the changes in the earth came to a halt, Cruias fed more energy into it, first duplicating the mold many times, then causing it to grow and take on the luster of life. Earth and dirt gave way to thick leathery skin, and snapped roots grew into sharp horns and cranial plating. Soon, a small herd of stomping beasts occupied the clearing, grunting and roaring to their creator. As large as he was, these new creatures- behemoths, he would call them - could be tamed by those who came after.
Of course, the laws of the jungle demanded that with predators, there must be prey- and vice versa. Breathing out upon the stone, the young god began again with his creation, as the behemoths instinctively shied away before breaking out and fleeing. Being cold-blooded, the intense cold was already making them lethargic. Knowing that this would be one of his new creations' most potent weapons against it's chosen prey, Cruias felt pleased that his work proceeded so well. The forming ice branched off six times, six heads for the new hydras that would share the forest. The creature would be able to heal itself of all but the most vicious wounds, and it's heads would divide if ever they were lost- a formidable foe, and one that would breed strength.
Soonafter, a handful of hydras, far fewer than the behemoths, ambled off into the forest to find their dens- for the next several years, they would sleep, before emerging to feast and rampage in a oft-repeated cycle. Cruias feared that unchecked, these hydras might wipe out the population of behemoths before they had a chance to grow in number, and kept their balance.
Looking up into the warm sky, Cruias could feel the sudden drain, but hardly anything worth noting. So was this what The Mother had meant when she had created Children? ....No... this was different. Children were in the image of their parents, and something they could be truly proud of. Intelligent beings. One day soon, he would have to work on creating life, if just to prove that he was not a destructive being.
Spawn Moderate 2 PP: Create Behemoths, of many varieties. Powerful but stupid beasts, the behemoths are omnivorous and tend to graze more than seek fresh meat.
PP Remaining: 5/7 + 1 Divine
Tell you what, I might be able to help you out with this. Just listen to Big Sister, she knows best. If there's one thing I know about, it's how to deal with pests. Now, it's quite simple. These invaders are here for a reason, true? They are here because they think it is safe, because they think they are welcome.
Well, my dear Little Brother, you must merely show that that is simply not the case. You must introduce an element into the environs so harshly anathema to their existence, that they have no choice to flee but be annihilated by it. Make your canvas so hostile to their presence that only your paint can survive.
Oh, but I forgot, you Little Brother are our resident idealist. I wonder what it would say about you if you were to follow my advice. Or do you not psychoanalyze your own action?
A wry smile twisted Fiona's features. Oh how she loved to tease Little Brother.
Absolam was taken aback by Fiona's proposal, physically recoiling if only a hair at the veracity and venom of those last words.
"Big Sister, I do not my children to be the only ones that can survive in the valley." Absalom said with a voice that seemed far more timid than the normal calm, projecting, confidant deity. "I just want it to be THERE land, as it was intended. Your solution could drive out the dragonborn intruders, but it would likely be a permanent exile if the means were truly effective. Besides, they are already being preyed upon and subjugated by the illithid creatures that your formerly betrothed transformed into before, and they do not seem to be fleeing but instead fighting."
Seeming to regain some of his composure at this point, Absalom began speaking with more authority. "A great artist knows that one cannot merely erase mistakes, or scorch them away as your suggestion seems to be to me. Instead, they must learn to adapt and work around them. As such I was adapting, speeding up my timetable, but I needed help."
Stepping forward and kneeling down so he was eye level with the Fiona as she sipped at one of her teacups. "I needed, nay, wanted your help Big Sister."
Oh, dear, you should have said. After that tragedy with Itja I suppose I am just jaded.
Then she laughed.
Oh, wow, how delightfully ironic. I have this body of an naive child, but the mind of a jaded adult.
Though perhaps that isn't so much ironic as somewhat tragic... Ah well, in any case, tell me what you need, and I'll do what I can to help. Perhaps reverse my initial suggestion? Make them perfectly comfortable and safe here?
She took another sip and smiled.
Absalom nodded towards Fiona in thanks. He had detected the subtle barb at the end, the verbal bait with which she sought to draw him out, but he chose to ignore it and instead focus on what needed to be done (though not without noting that his Big Sister was no longer living as a child, even if her suggested otherwise...)
"Dear sister, I ask that you would join me at my canvas and help me to complete it by bringing more life. It needs beasts, creatures, predators and prey, those that soar through the sky, those that swim within the waters, those that run through the valley or climb the trees! It needs to be a tapestry of life that will be both inviting but challenging to my children!"
"I ask Big Sister that you would help me to create life within my little valley!"
Wind caressed the face of Syreene|Sonnet, the two halves of the deity in perfect balance as he/she/it meditated on the highest spire of the Hive. The Casus Belli floated lazily, reflecting Sol's light in arcing glints of brightness as the prism slowly spun, its various facets acting, mirrorlike, on the ground far below.
The Divinity abruptly stopped, opened its eyes, leaned forwards, and peered downwards. Without another word, its hands pressed against the top of the structure, sending the god catapulting off the top in a graceful, flipping descent towards the bottom.
As it fell, its hair grew longer, its chest fuller, and its height, shorter; it was Syreene who eventually landed, irrationally softly, in a crouch outside the Hive, in front of the Mother.
"Mother" she nodded simply in greeting. "I've been waiting for you."
~The Triskelion~
Wygrove didn't last long; in its favor, it managed itself peacefully for three full days -- 600-odd% longer than the last such organization. Strife broke out.
"Why call it Wygrove?" asked the Swiftclaw Representative. "That doesn't sound menacing at all!" "Why not?" asked Venomhand. "Wynaut? That's a totally better name!" giggled the Amblecloud. "This nation is not serving Arborwrath's needs!" thundered Arborwrath (He claimed to be descended from Lord Thorn himself, and he looked it!) "We should be collecting tribute for protecting your sorry ****, not giving it away!" "I don't like how Bloodtooth sits so close to us." complained Grasswhistle. "Surely he would be better served sitting next to Shaleshell!" "As if!" Interjected Brightblossom. "You just want to sit next to Sunfeather because she's pretty." "You're encroaching upon Thunderwaltz territory!" yelled Thunderwaltz, at no one in particular. "Anadomra is doing a horrid job leading!" "Why is Anadomra leading? I should be leader." "Who the hell is Anadomra?" "If you don't stop clearing your throat like that, I will slice it out for you." "Don't get angry at me -- get angry at our glorious leader here!"
As one, ten sets of eyes swiveled to catch Anadomra in their many glares. "Well?" It was not clear who had said it, but the scorn filling all twenty of the eyes made it clear that it could have been anyone. "No one virago should have that much power, even if the mark on her forehead does make her kinda hot."
Within moments, part of that sentiment had erupted into a chant. Hands pounded the earthen table; "No supreme leader! No supreme leader! No supreme leader!" "Marry me Anadomra!" "No supreme leader!"
Clearly, the chosen of Caltabactos had mis-estimated the resolve (and libido) of the various tribes.
Finally having a free moment, he pulled off his hat and reached his arm deep into it, pulling out a large metallic humanoid that towered over the two of them. Glaring at the golem-like creature he frowned and yelled at it. "I know you are awake by now, so open your eye and do something!"
A slow metallic grind echoed through the area for a long second before slowly being replaced with a calming hum. It's eyes opened for the first time and it beheld both Aaviz and Itja-Rek. Twisting its arms and head slowly at first, then more rapidly as it slowly worked out the minor kinks and rough edges in the design, it went to one knee, bowing before it's creator.
Grinning ear to ear, Aaviz waved to it, "Stand up already, stand up. I didn't make you to bow and scrape. I created you to be a useful ally in whatever I need done. Now, I can't be referring to you as machine and golem all the time. What is your designation?"
The machine rose to it's feet, staring at him, before answering in a droll mono-tone. "According to the blueprints you used to create me, I am model five eight three nine two, having been formed from the remnants of your most recent experiment in life, which were ruined by your miscalculation. Since several adjustments were made to the design model, I believe that the model number should be altered to more accurately represent me, which would make me model five eight three nine three."
Shaking his head in irritation, Aaviz frowned and adjusted his hat. "So? I know what model number you are. And do remind me to make new blue prints to represent those adjustments later. But that's not the point. You need to choose a name for yourself, something easy for others to remember, something which identifies you personally, rather than identifying you by your model. Any thoughts, or should I just do it?"
The machine sat motionless for many long moments before responding. "Master, I would like to have the denomination of Yantra."
"Yantra? Fine, that will be your name. You know the creatures of the land below, yes? The ones I formed, mind you, not the giant insects the Mother has unleashed down there."
"Yes, the Cetana, the Vineaza, the Skimmers, and the Aranea. Information on all of them is within my data storage."
"Good, good." Patting the golem on the arm, he pointed to the lands below. "The aranea are just discovering themselves, and the vineaza and skimmers are fine living the way they have been. But the Cetana now, not only are they new, but they don't really have a place in the world below. So find a nice big camp of them. Approach openly in the day so as to not frighten them too badly. Approach them and learn from them. I want you to develop yourself a nice unique personality that you find fitting, and in the process, you are going to teach the Cetana what they need to know to survive. Teach them how to work with stones, metals, and minerals. Insure that they develop methods to cultivate the lands and hunt the beasts to fill their stomachs. Information on all these tasks and more are still intact within your data storage, yes?"
The golem nodded slightly. "Yes."
"Good, good. I should certainly hope so, since I put all sorts of utilitarian memories of mine into your data storage to make you useful in such tasks. Get to it them." Without further ado, Aaviz gave the construct a huge shove, sending it hurtling off of the Floating Aerie into the continent below. His eyebrows lowered for a moment, then he peered at his other companion. "Hm, that wasn't the best way to get him down there, now that I think about it. Think he'll stay in once piece, Ijta-Rek?"
-----
Ereno stood motionless in the bush, watching the deer as it fed. SInce the arrival of these new creatures, the vineaza and his kin had enjoyed much more prosperity from the plentiful meat, but they lacked the tools to bring the beast down. So, there was the accursed waiting.
For several hours, he had stalked the deer, waiting and waiting, struggling to keep his scent from it and not be noticed by the prey he was waiting on. Finally, his long wait was rewarded when a trio of skimmers dove from the sky. The deer barely had more than a moment to notice the metallic monsters before the lead skimmer's long stinger had punched through it, clipping the spine and sending the deer to the ground to struggle against it's now paralyzed backside. Their prey thoroughly disabled, the three skimmers alighted on the ground preparing to feed and reproduce.
Seeing the perfect chance, Ereno carefully placed his hands together, murmuring the phrases and words that came inherently to mind when faced by the metallic beasts. As he called and worked his gift, the creatures wings began to jerk spasmodically. Suddenly aware of their danger, the three began to click and growl and tried to fly all the harder while fleeing the source of the energy.
Of the three, only one managed to gain his freedom, escaping far enough away that the magic's ill effects weakened, allowing him to make it into the air and escape. The other two, trapped by the vineaza's magic, lie twitching on the ground, unable to move as Ereno moved closer, shifting his chant from weakening to destroying. Standing above them, he separated his hands and placed one of them on each skimmer. Where flesh touched metal, the metal began to rust and dissolve. Consumed by the magic, the skimmers let out several horrified clicks and screeches before their structural integrity failed and they dissolved into a metallic golden dust.
Ignoring the worthless dust, Ereno lifted the dear onto his back and headed for home, confident that he and his clan would eat well tonight.
-----
Melina walked quietly towards the village, not really paying attention to the land around her as she sifted through the various edible herbs and roots she had gathered in her basket. Thousands of times, he brothers and parents had told her to watch her surroundings. After all, one never knew when a skimmer might happen near the settlement, and Aaviz only help someone caught like that without a vineaza around to help.
Still, her mind wandered as she walked, considering new ways to prepare the food, wondering quietly what might live upon the great island so high in the sky, and even what sort of roots and herbs might grow in the distant trees she had heard traveling vineaza speak of.
In all honestly, she would probably have walked all the way to her home, never noticing anything around her, had it not been for her own gods unthinking actions so high above. Shoved from the Floating Aerie, Yantra had no chance to catch himself before slamming into the ground below and causing a localized earthquake. A localized earthquake that happened to throw the young cetana girl from her feat and bring her out of her thoughtful wanderings.
Her attention brought fully back into this world, rather than the worlds of her day dreams, she carefully edged her way over to the deep crater caused by Yantra's fall, poked her head over the ridge just enough to see what had happened. Shocked and surprised by the sight, she turned to run, when a big metal hand wrapped around her.
"PLEASE! DON"T EAT ME!" she screamed, struggling and straining against the large metal hand holding her.
To his benefit, Yantra managed to recognize that the girl was apparently terrified but, not being entirely sure how to deal with it, he lifted her up to his face, and whispered as quietly as he could, which still came off as somewhat loud, at least loud enough to be heard over her screams of terror. "Hello. Why would I eat you? Would you kindly please stop screaming, as the sound is causing minor damage to my sound receptors."
Completely surprised to hear the golem talk, and caught as she inhaled for another scream, she stopped to think. "You mean you aren't a new kind of skimmer monster hear to eat me and make more of your kind?"
Holding the Cetana girl a it further away from him, for fear his voice might still be too loud, though he was getting better at controlling it, he shook his head."No. I am Yantra. I've come from the Floating Aerie to speak to the cetana. YOu are a young cetana girl, yes? I have some knowledge of your people, but I am still far from an expert."
The girl blinked as she considered the exarchs words, her curiosity overwhelming her previous fear. "Well, yes, I am a cetana. But I'm hardly young. I'll have you know I'm thirteen, old enough to be trusted to gather the herbs and roots that grow closer to the village!"
A small chuckle came from the golem as he nodded. "Of course, dear one. I apologize for insinuating that you were a child. Tell me, do you know of the god, Aaviz?"
She smiled and shook her free hand at him. "Of course, everyone knows about him. He created us all, as this lovely world we live in. Are you looking for him? Because I doubt you'll find him here." Looking a bit uncomfortable, she frowned. "Could you put me down? This is starting to hurt."
"Do you promise not to run away?" As she nodded, he set her gently to the ground. "Well then, what is your name?"
"My name is Melina of clan Cetara. What about you?"
"My model number," he hesitated for a moment. "No, my name is Yantra." Crouching as best as his body would allow, he lowered his face down to her. "Can I tell you a secret, Melina?" When she nodded, he continued. "That's a good girl. The secret is that Aaviz has sent me to help your people. He asked me to teach you all many, such as a better way to grow herbs and roots close to your village so you need not wander so far and how to make tools to make many tasks easier. Does that sound good to you, my friend?"
She nodded vigorously, smiling. "Oh, most definitely. I may be old enough to be trusted for these tasks, but that doesn't mean they are fun." Suddenly realizing the full implications of his statement, she looked at him with a bit of awe. "Wait, really? Aaviz sent you? Sent you here to help us?"
He nodded at her, carefully ruffling her hair. "Yes, my girl. He sent me to help your people. Pushed me right off the floating island up there so I'd come and help you. Now then, we must get to work soon, so your people can benefit from my help. Please, take me to your home."
Smiling the whole way, Melina lead him towards her village, pestering him with questions the whole way as he patiently answered them "Did he really push you off the island? Did it hurt to fall so far? What sorts of things will you be teaching us? Is Aaviz really a nice old grandfather like the village elders say?"
-----
Nodding as his exarch successfully made his first mortal friend, Aaviz turned to Itka-Rek and shook his finger, a playful smile on his face. "Of course, I meant for that to happen. I purposely pushed him into just the right spot to meet a curious and friendly little girl."
Dissolving into laughter, he fell over on his backside. Finally gathering his wits, he stood up and straightened his hat. "Okay, so I didn't really, but it was a happy convenience. Should make his job much easier, don't you think? That girl is a bit special, too. I've heard about her in the prayers coming from her kin and elders. She's curious and intelligent and always off dreaming about things. Reminds me quite a bit of myself when I was young, yes it does. I must remember to keep an eye on young Melina."
Putting her from his mind, he started toying with the dirt and clay in the Aerie nearby, gathering it into large blocks and transforming it into marble, before hewing out a rough humanoid shape. "You know, old friend, you have a lot of spirits fluttering about in your mind. I know, having seen them first hand. Have you ever noticed how some things will draw forth a memory and bring it to the fore-front of your mind, and then refuse to let you forget about it until you do something about it? I was so very deep in my memories as I put together Yantra's data storage facilities that I dredged up some memories I had long forgotten. Memories from one of the first worlds I visited when I fled my home."
All the while as he chattered with Itja-Rek, he was shaping the race from his memories, light, agile, and fleet of foot. Thin and lanky, but at the same time, surprisingly strong and well muscled. Nearly complete with the form, he stopped and looked at his friend. "Do you understand what I mean, Itja-Rek? The way memories can force their way to the surface and demand that you acknowledge them?"
The Hive
The Mother thought, gazing at her reflection in the water. There was much to think of, after all... her Children. The Itja-Rek. Herself. Her Children loved her, and she loved her Children in return. With all her heart. If she lost her Children, she had no idea what she'd do... probably go on a rampage to kill whoever took them from her, but other than that, she had no idea.
But the way her Children loved her... they looked upon her and saw a Mother. One who deserved love for bringing them into the world and nourishing them. They looked upon her as family... they would never look upon her as beautiful. These new Children, the Troinat, who she had welcomed into her fold... she wished she could say they looked upon her with more than the love of a family. With some measure of desire. But... it was not so. They looked upon her as a doting Aunt, or a foster Mother. Someone to love, but not someone they found desirable in a physical sense. She was just... too different. Too hideous, even to them.
That was unfair... they probably didn't think that way. But the Itja-Rek... well, he had said she was 'mysterious'. Mysterious! If you desired a woman, you called her beautiful, sexy, radiant, desirable... not mysterious... and the Queen... her words still stung. Because she was right. Most Children looked like the Queen, or the Aaviz, but aside from some casual similarities... none looked like herself. She believed life took this form for the most part because it was what most considered to be beautiful, to be... perfect, in a way. She wished she could understand why these forms were desirable enough to actually take one. But she thought in carapaces and bloated abdomens, not in dainty fingers and unblemished skin...
The Mother sighed, flicking her leg into the water to cause rippled to disrupt her reflection. She wanted to be beautiful... but she had no idea what beauty WAS to the universe at large. Or the Itja-Rek... he seemed to desire the Queen while she was a woman, but not while she was a child... but that was all she knew.
The Mother was roused from her thoughts by a voice... looking up a little sadly, the Mother instantly perked up at the sight of her old friend who had helped make this world for her Children. "The Syreen!" the Mother proclaimed happily. Well, technically it was the Sonnet who had made the world, but the Syreen had proven to be good to talk to during their brief time together too. "I am happy to see you, I have spent too long in... less pleasant company. But what brings you here to my Hive? And... you have been waiting for me?" The Mother cocked her head segment in puzzlement. Why would she/he/they be waiting for her?
Cocking his head curiously, Cruias noted a behemoth beneath the high perch he had taken, which in turn was staring at the ice crow curiously. Certainly, he was not a native creature, but could the behemoth not sense he was something different? Perhaps that was the cause of it's apparent interest. Flying down to the ground, the god-crow landed upon the beast's hard back, gripping firmly but not dangerously. Suddenly alarmed, the behemoth roared, bucking and shaking as it tried to dislodge the frozen presence on it's back.
"Relax.. I'm not going to hurt you. I created you, after all." said Cruias, waiting until the behemoth's fury was spent... until it started shrieking in pain, that is. Jumping off suddenly, startled, Cruias hovered in midair as the behemoth began spasming, falling to the ground with a tremendous, resounding thud. Staring in horror, Cruias could see an inky black splotch spreading rapidly across the creature's back, where he had stood. It's muscles and skin were being eaten away by the darkness- the Otherness! Again!
Fearing to touch the ground again, Cruias remained hovering as the behemoth died soon after, half of it's broad torso consumed into nothingness. Even the carrion birds, those from which Cruias had drawn his own form, would have nothing to do with this, he knew- it was unnatural and alltogether deadly.
Shouting incoherently in fear and fury, the divinity snatched up the proferred mote of divine energy that the other god had left behind. Even in a form like this, even with the void all but consumed by ice, it still broke through! Shrieking furiously, the divine mote of the god of beauty began to darken, as the brilliance inside was consumed by the void energy the desperate god fed into it. This time, he would be sure of the otherness dissapearing! He would craft a flawless prison for it, one that the void could not escape from.
As Cruias began funneling his own being, his own source of creation, into the artifact, he began screaming in pain as the consuming otherness, the source of who he was, tore forcefully away from him, shattering the ice and flowing into the void. Feeling as though he was being torn in half, Cruias couldn't stop the flow of energy, and if he could think lucidly, he would know that this was a necessary part of what he wanted to accomplish.
As the mote became completely shrouded in darkness, Cruias fed his own divine energy into it, focusing on containing and solidfying the dangerous otherness, guaranteeing that it would no longer spread, no longer consume. At length, a pure dark gem dropped from the sky, landing on the ground with a soft 'tink' sound. Watching it intently to be sure the void would not spread, Cruias finally came to a rest on the ground, kicking the gem into the pit he had earlier dug. Never would it be found, and never would it again spread!
Remaining PP: 2/7
Hold on tight.
With those words the burned god leapt up and out of the lake of magma and on to the great ledge the the small orc community lived on. Gently carrying the god of winds, Umbart entered the grandest house (not all that grand actually) and commanded the chieftain to leave him. A very brief skirmish ensued and the chiefs son suddenly found himself in charge. His first act was to vacate the house and give Umbart his due.
Setting the goddess upon a couch,
Yes, the blood oath. Harken would see this world grow and thrive. While war and strife might have place. Chaos does not. This oath empowers us to make this world thrive with our very blood, yet it will punish us if we act act capriciously or randomly. A world needs order and this oath brings power to those who promise to support order.
On another note, I am glad you are well. How did you end up down there?
Umbart rose from his seat and sat next to the striking goddess. As he sat, he placed a hand suggestively on the young lady.
I still do not know you name. Will you grace me with it?
"Indeed I have!" Syreene patted the Mother's nearest leg fondly. "Ever since we had that discussion with Itja-Rek about mating, I've been waiting to speak with you. You see, when you said that we could not mate, because we were both female, that got me to thinking. The Jellyfish do not have genders, and yet they mate. The trees and grasses do not have genders, and yet they mate. I've come to the conclusion that your earlier conclusion was fundamentally inaccurate, and if you're willing, I'd engage in an experiment with you to prove it!"
~The Triskelion~
"It seems our lesser cousins are stumbling about, finally seeking to unite against these mindflayers. And rather clumsily, I might add."
The Archfey known as Lord Vestanis Imbril was reclining in his opulent manor, hidden within the forests of the Triskelion. No less than a score of wood waifs were waiting on him, nubby-hand, and peg-leg-foot.
"The Virago are such simple creatures." snorted Lord Imbril, derisively. "They would seek to fight back against the Nihilianth. They are like overeager orionid pups, lashing out at any and all who come near. This Anadomra who leads them? She will not last. Tribal tensions are much too strong for that."
"So we do nothing?" asked Imbril's cousin, the Count Kirelis.
Lord Imbril scoffed. "Hardly." He smiled grimly at the lesser Archfey. "Send out missives at once to all those noble houses that are friendly to us. We Archfey have lived our extravagent lives alone for too long. We confine ourselves to our secret manors, hidden from our lesser kin by magic far beyond them, leaving only to hunt, or gather at other secret residences for feasts and recitals? It is long past time we step into the limelight, and I think I'm just the Lord to head it." Lord Imbril squirmed on the plush diva on which he reclined, and gave his cousin a thoughtful look. "Ready House Imbril's Knights, and instruct our guests to do the same. We'll need a sufficient force if we're to succeed with this gambit."
Count Kirelis bowed in acquiescence, face carefully devoid of expression.
The little Queen moistened her lips. What a sport this would be...
She pondered what sort of creatures she should introduce to this little burgeoning ecosystem of little brother's. She didn't want to upset the balance too much. A variety then, some yin and yang. Maybe some extreme harshness tempered by total calm. Two halves of a whole, two polarities so extreme, they attract. These two forces shall be so wrapped up in each other that no force could dare tear them apart. But they shall be two wholly opposite integers, each canceling out the other. Thus, no major upset of the pure valley.
All right, I will do so darling little brother. I will give your little valley the thing it needs. The ultimate gift of life....
The last word continued, became a long, low sigh that carried out from the little girl and swept slowly, palpably through the little clearing, kicking up leaves in its passing. The sigh swept through the trees, steadily picking up speed, gaining momentum as it rushed to the valley. And then the breath of life burst into the open sky, carrying with it a cloud of leaves and spores and precious seeds. It tossed these ingredients of life into the bright sunlight. And where they landed, the first saplings of a new race sprang up, ready to be, ready to move, ready to live.
The first were the ogres, vast, brawny and dumb as rocks. But they could heft a wooden club like nobody's business. And then there were their sisters, the halflings. Small in stature, but devilishly smart and cunning. These two races were inextricably linked, each halfling had an ogre companion, each ogre had a halfling, from birth until death. And together, they were a force to be reckoned with.
3 PP Shape Populace - Halflings
3 PP Shape Populace - Ogres
"And as to how I got in here like that... well, you see, I followed you down here because there was something you wanted to tell me-- this Blood Oath you speak of-- when all of a sudden, during my descent, a flash of blinding light appeared in my head and pain shortly followed. After that, I don't remember much at all..."
It was a good life, though Harkon felt a twing of guilt. These people were bound by the growth of coral, kept in small settlements. They needed room to expand.
Bubbly sighs eminated from the mazunti swimmers as the "current" left. Harkon looked up to the sky and felt through the waterst he chains below. Pulling on both he summoned Earth, that ever troublesome element. Dislike it though he maye, it could be used to help his people.
Great pillars of rock and dirt grew in the oceans , eventually breaking the surface of the waters of Korias and reaching into the sky. These islands lacked beaches, or indeed any means of accessing them except the merciless cliff face of stone. But some Mazunti dared these cliffs and found the land on top to be nice enough, if perhaps a little barren.
2PP (1 from Sun and Moon, 1 from chains): Mold land moderate - creating several islands in the oceans surrounding the hive.
To note, I realized I had only spent 4pp on my avatar, so consider that 5th one spent.
0pp remaining
The Hive
The Mother twitched her antennae thoughtfully. Hm, it was true that the trees and grasses needed no genders to mate... though the way they reproduced could hardly be called mating at all! There was no... passion. No pleasure. Unless trees found it pleasurable then bees suckled at their flowers? She knew not about how jellyfish went about things though... her knowledge of beings other than insects was severely lacking.
However... if it was possible for two to mate without being different genders, then perhaps it would provide a clue into how she could mate with the Itja-Rek despite his unique biology? Besides which, the Sonnet was rather... handsome, in her opinion. And the Syreen, though she had little urges towards due to both their different species and same gender, seemed nice enough.
"I.. admit this is all a little sudden," the Mother replied. Wow, they'd really waited all this time just to mate with her? It was rather flattering! "But I'm more than happy to see whatever idea you have that can enable mating between those who could not normally mate!"
"Consider" continued Syreene, oblivious to the subtle innuendos she had fed The Mother, "a Children of three..." the goddess crinkled her nose, traced her finger through the air in some inner consideration, "no, five unique phenotypes would be possible. When you think about it, the issue of gender is rather ambivalent -- why are female sichons larger than the males, while the opposite is true of dobbits? The distinction implies an underlying fault with the system of assignment. It an irrelevant matter of which we call "male" and which we call "female", for regardless they are simply two variations of the same creature."
Syreene lightly tapped her breast. "But don't you see? We gods are intrinsically not the same fundamental creature, so the barrier between a union of ours is not that of some psychic construct of which gender we claim to be, but the fact that our forms are inherently dissimilar in the firstplace, much as Harkon Armal is a being of water, myself am a being of flesh, and you are a being of chitin!"
Outside the Hive
The Mother twitched her antennae quietly for a few moments. "Um... I'm sorry?" she asked. "I... do not understand a lot of the words you just used. But I think I have gotten the general idea," she noted. "Gender is rather hard to pin down with mortal creations, except for which can bear the young, and the reproductive organs on each of them. Excepting the case of trees and the like. But with gods, we do not even have that to define it... is what you're saying?"
So they were incompatible not because they were both female, but because the Mother was giant insect, and the Syreene... not? She could understand that she supposed, the Syreen did change genders all the time, so it was hardly a stretch that she could mate with either sex whatever the form! "You ideas are interesting the Syreene," the Mother complimented her genuinely. "But I admit I can't see where you're going with them."
My, did Aaviz like to talk! Itja-Rek had not spent much time with the one once called 'Tomb-Mover' and 'The-One-Whose-Name-I-Do-Not-Know-But-Who-Never-Shuts-Up' in the past while, and had forgotten the man's proclivity to words.
"You, Aaviz, seem to have many stories from places beyond any of our knowings. The memories I have are far more recent, and I am much more likely to find an entire soul pushing its way to the front of my mind and taking control than any individual memory."
~Nihiliath~
The mindflayers of Nihiliath disposed of their dead in a variety of fashions, but one of the most popular was cremation.
But then something odd began to happen. Not in every household that cremated their dead, but in a subset, sometimes neighbors would visit and find the entire household burned in their beds. This only happened in the households that cremated their dead, and investigations revealed that the bodies were dead before they were burned.
The Reaper looked from afar. Itja-Rek's plans were beginning to be set into motion. Hefting a knife and the unlit-torch, she slid in the window of another Cremator and made her way silently up the stairs...
1 PP (from Reaper): Denourish Populace: Nihiliathans who cremate their dead are being systematically killed.
The goddess beamed. "That's exactly it. For a race to survive, they need mothers. Consider the parthenogenesistic tendencies of the humble Mantid: they need no males at all in the spring, and it is only when it comes to laying eggs to survive through the freezing winter that the males become involved at all. Were the temperature not to drop and kill a goodly portion of them at the end of each Autumn, they wouldn't have need for the males at all! They would be a race of all mothers."
Syreene edged closer to The Mother, gripping two of her forelegs tightly in her fervor, speaking evermore excitedly into her (nigh-literally) captive audience.
"So races of just mothers exist (even if only temporarily) and you are surely familiar with the races who have both mother and father."
Syreene paused, abruptly letting go and turning away, pacing almost aggressively in a small circle around the Mother. Collecting her breath, she continued. "Which again, brings me back to my conclusion: why do we limit ourselves to two? Could we not birth a race with more than one type of mother? Even three?"
The goddess whirled once more, waggling one slender finger incongruously at the hulking insect god. "That is where I am going. I want to make such a race, with more than one mother, as a proof of concept, and I want, nay, need, your expertise in bringing them about. "
The Warp is in all ways ended. Nothing more can be moved.
Default PP for all is 6 with 9 storage.
Astriluxus and Rampart move up to 5 PP/week with storage of 8. (Auralynx, you're being moved onto the inactive players list as of tonight, so please start posting again otherwise you will not be progressing any further)
Cruias gets 4 PP.
Inimicus, as you joined us mid-week, no PP right now for you.
Nation Strengths and Worship Percents will be up on the wiki sometime tomorrow.
Maps should be up by tomorrow night as well.
Outside the Hive
"Oh I see!" the Mother declared happily, both at understand her concept and at the actual prospect of what she was talking about. "So like how we gods need not another of our kind to make Children - though having one helps - so to you would have some mortals? Well that's an interesting idea I have to..." No wait, she went on about more types of Mothers... hm...
"The Syreene, I think what you have is a wonderful idea," the Mother complimented her. "And the idea of Children having not just one, but many Mothers is... well, it fills me with joy," was all she could use to describe it. Children with more Mothers to help protect them, guide them, love them? It sounded wonderful! "But I admit I have no idea how we could go about it! I am a Mother of nature, and the natural order of things is of males and females... I just can't imagine a way we could get more than one Mother for a Child. But if you have an idea on how to do it, I'd be overjoyed to help you!"
Moderately far from the Nihilian Capital, lay the city of Dessicus. Stahk'vaas the Maimed was ruminating in his manor (he seemed to *always* be ruminating, since that incident). His single remaining tentacle was itching him again, so he was prowling his relatively opulent residence, seeking something to take his mind off his face.
Much to his eventual dismay, he found it.
A full twoscore of... well, they looked to be those Virago-foodbeasts. But they were wearing armor! And carrying fine steel weapons! The virago had never been that advanced. And they were marching right across his front lawn. The mindflayer chuckled. This should be good. He clambered up onto his roof to watch.
The Eladrin strikeforce's entrance into Dessicus had not gone unnoticed, and even as Stahk'vaas watched, a cabal of the city defense force had emerged to "handle" the issue of foodbeasts wandered astray.
"Foolish Virago!" proclaimed the Watch Captain. "We have made strides to find other means of sustenance, but we have no mercy towards those who so stupidly wander into the den of their predators. We are merciful. We shall retain only half of you -- the others will be free to go."
The city defense force waved their arms and tentacles at the neatly-halted band of Eladrin, watching as they appeared to slump into a stupor at the urging of the illithids.
The wet burbling sound that passed for laughter emerged from the Watch Captain. "Stupid foodbeasts. They never lear-urk"
The mindflayer had gently patted the slumping form of the lead knight, in preparation for a late-night meal. But at his touch the obviously-not-stupefied Eladrin Knight had whirled into motion, smashing the mindflayer's squishy form to the ground, his lance poised above the creature's abdomen.
"We, are not Virago." the word was spat out, as if it was something foul.
The watch captain tried his psionics, but found (after even the barest of cursory inspections that he had been much too arrogant to perform before) that these not-Virago's minds were shielded quite powerfully with arcane magic.
The watch captain found his tentacles squirming nervously. "Well then, not-Virago. Who are you and what do you want?"
The knight tormenting the captain pressed down with his foot, feeling the squishy form of the illithid depress, watching its tentacles writhe in a combination of pain and fury. "We are the Archfey, true sons and daughters of the Lord and Lyn. We come here to annex your peoples into our court, that of Lord Imbrel."
The Watch Captain's tentacles continued to twitch. "And if we refuse?"
A cold smile spread across the Eladrin Archfey's face. "You die."
-2 PP Guide: Form Nation -- Many of The Archfey, some of the lesser [not one of the 13 on the wiki] clans of Virago, and the Mindflayers are united under the rule of Lord Imbrel, forming The Warped Court.
-2 PP Teach: Weapon and Armorsmithing; Lord Imbrel dedicates the resources of his court to fund the infrastructure required to provide the various forces of The Warped Court with high-grade armaments (specialization)
-1 PP Denourish Nihilianth
-1 PP Nourish The Warped Court -- several mindflayer settlements are forcibly annexed, and brought under control of The Warped Court.
DarkForest somewhere.....~
Astriluxus knew he needed something to help his people out. The dragon metal he threw earlier! Its unforge, but it should work. Flying out to where he knew it landed, he attempted to pick it up but withdrew quickly for it stung to his touch. Using a bit of magic, he turned the metal into a ball. Adding some other touches, he also gave it a sense of intelligence. "You are a keeper of balance, and protector of the mortals from now on. Seek those like me in the mortal world. If they disrupt the balance, send them back to the godly realm. If they only seek to improve their own children, then leave them be. Look for heroes in their time of most need. Stay hidden unless you are needed or found. Now go. There is a race imperiled, and a hero that needs you." And with that he cast the "godslayer" into the mortal realm. "Now to watch as even unfold." He flew back over to the nihilith capital unknown to the two exarches there.
Nihilian Capital, two days before current events~
Pollox woke with a start. A quiet sound like a small bell rung in his ear. This wasn't from his illithid controller. It was different somehow. He shrugged it of and started his now normal routine.
Day before current events~
Pollox woke with a start again. He heard that sound like a bell in his ears. No sound seemed to actually have been made, but he had heard it clear as day. He knew it was important, he just didn't know how....
Day of current events~
Pollox woke with a start. It was that bell sound again. This time though it was slightly different. Slightly louder. He got up and went to where he knew his controller wold be during that time of the day, only to find him dead. He closed his eyes, and breathed a sigh of relief. He was free for now. He knew it was only a matter of time though.
He looked down next to the body. Close to the body was a small pool of silvery metal. He slowly bent down, and he didn't know why but moved to touch it. The metal responded to his touch. Within a second, his mind became clear. It was if he was never enslaved at all! He knew this metal was special. It was different from everything else. He went down to touch it again, and again it responded. This time it rolled into a small little ball. Maybe no more than a few inches around. It felt like liquid, yet at the same time hard. This is what killed the mindflayer, and this is what freed him. It will free the others also.....
Current Events~
Pollox felt the tug of the metal. It was leading him somewhere. The sky was dark and an ominous presence was here. The metal lead him through many different streets, almost like it wasn't sure where to go. Something was going on in the square. The metal lead on. A powerful presence if felt. Something big and powerful was here. No two powerful beings where here now. The metal lead him to the square. Everyone seemed to be in a state of confusion. Almost like they didn't know whether to panic, or to bow down.
He had no problems moving through the square. Illithid and dragonborn alike showed no idea that he was there. Everyone seemed to be focused on the sky and the people up on top of the square. The metal lead him to the people up top. It seemed these people are important. The metal pulsed lightly.
These were no ordinary people. The metal pulsed again. The man on top of the square paid him no mind, nor the item he was carrying. Many words where given between the sky, some sickly snake lady and another important looking Illthid. This one he knew. This illithid was a leader of these people. Many bodies were laid about. Dead mindflayers. All leaders. He walked up to the important looking man.
The metal pulsed one more time, then the bell he heard when he woke sounded. The man in front jerked suddenly. It seemed this man heard the bell as well.
The bell sounded again. The man shuddered again, but didn't move. The lady next to him shuddered suddenly as well as if she could hear the bell as well.
The bell sounded again. Everyone heard this time. Everyone turned to the center where the man and lady was and silence filled the air.
The man went to turn to face the sound of the bell, cocky and confident he thought he could wipe this nuisance away. He suddenly found that he couldn't turn. His whole body refused to respond. Something wet was on his shirt. He looked down and saw a long silver blade sticking out the front of his chest. The man known as Hulna looked behind him, and saw a long silvery glaive with a dragonborn on the other end. He went to speak, but was unable.
Pollox reacted quickly, he pulled the glaive out of hulna's chest, and swung at the woman. She was faster though. Barely able to escape danger, Ur was cut on her left arm and grazed on her chest. A second slower and she also would have been in trouble. Ur escaped from the area lest the dragonborn with the odd silver glaive try something else to endanger her. Pollux unable to comprehend what just happened, collapsed. The silver glaive at the same time returned to being a small ball and disappeared somewhere in the world.
The skies above Nihiliath~
The sky above the city suddenly was turning a darker shade. This was different from despair for it was moving. It looked like a giant cloud from afar, but it was too fast to be clouds. Where there was light, the illithids suddenly saw glints of metal in the sky. Swarms of dragons of every color was in flight at that moment. With a sudden flash, the ground shook and building quaked. Fires burst through the city. A new form of despair showed itself in the form of fire, and lightning, and ice. Dragons where attacking the city from everywhere! The disorganized mindflayers where unable to put any form of recognizable defence before the defenders were vaporized.
In the city during the sudden attack~
Captured dragonborn suddenly started to collapse. Every where there was a dragonborn that was still captured, it collapsed. Dead on the spot. From the bodies, an unknown vapor started to eminate. Mindflayers all around the bodies started to drop from the fumes. Many where able to escape the fumes, many more where not. Those that didn't died a slow agonizing death from the fumes.
Nihiliath City Square~
A brass dragon suddenly landed amid the confusion. He found the unconsious dragonborn, picked him up and flew off again, before anyone was able to do or say anything.
Within minutes, the attack was over as quickly as it had begun. The skies cleared of dragons, just as the nihilith army reorganized. A sudden, but small quake was felt through the land.
Last Dragonborn Settlement~
The bronze dragon laid the unconsious dragonborn hero at the entrance to the village. The villagers came out. The elders scared and shaken at this new presence, saw one of their own. the elders motioned to some to help the fallen hero. "Elders, he bears the mark of a slaved one, but he is slaved no more. He slew their god in front of everyone to see. Their god is powerful and will not die easy, but he will think twice before coming down as a mortal again. Prepare everyone, for you have a long, hard march ahead of you. He will lead you through troublesome times to a new home where you can prosper." And with that the bronze dragon flew into the sky, joined by a massive gold, and a slightly smaller silver dragon.
Several days later Pollux awoke in the dragonborn settlement unsure of where he was. After some rest, cleaning up, and food, Pollux conversed with the elders. He found that he was named a hero and that he was to lead them to prosperity. The remaining dragonborn had already started preparations for the move. A week later they were ready. Pollux and the remaining dragonborn race, left the hostile valley unknown if they would ever return to these lands again, heading to new lands. Land that will allow the dragonborn to prosper, to grow, and to build a new nation.
2PP Lesser artifact: Godslayer. (see wiki)
1PP Denourish: Dragons attack the capital of Nihiliath killing many
1PP Denourish: Captive Dragonborn die by the dozens taking their Illithid captures and those nearby with them.
1PP Guide: Dragonborn leave their ancestral lands and head to the south, where they will eventually land near the coast of the massive continent.
He gave Itja-Rek an odd look, perhaps a cross between pity and envy. "You have a choice. Strengthen your mind, or perhaps rely on that crown I forged for you. I do not."
He silently turned back to watching the lands below, using a silent mental command to direct his exarch onto the next leg of his journey. "Hm, you know, those poor elves I sent down there aren't doing so well. Skimmers are causing them all sorts of trouble. I'm thinking perhaps some sort of companion animal for this one. A nice fast beast, muscular and swift. Give it a reasonably durable hide, I think, and they might be able to make use of them after they die as well. Yes, I do think that is an excellent idea. I know just the creature."
Gathering a nearby ball of clay, he quickly shaped out a rough form before using several tools to adding definition to the muscles. Satisfied by the quick work, he duplicated the creature and then released them on the land below.
-----
The elves moved silently through the dark night, grateful for the relief from the heat of the day. Still, they moved silently and stealthily, knowing that the night sheltered them only from the sun, not from the swarms of metal beasts that roamed the grasslands and deserts they lived in. Neither fast enough to out run them or strong enough to fight them, they on what they could do, hiding away during the day when the beasts were most active and foraging and moving by the light of Mani high above. Life was hard, but they still had their life.
-----
Yantra has spent many weeks in the cetana village, showing them simple agricultural techniques, and how growing their food closer to home would save them time and effort. How certain materials spread over the soil would cause the plants to grow healthier and produce more.
He displayed simple methods of stacking stones to form strong walls for their homes, and various ways to use clay and wood to create a roof that would not leak while still letting smoke from their cooking fires out.
But beyond even that, the most important things he showed them was how to take the metals that could be found in near by caves and hills and form them into useful tools. This was the most difficult part of Yantra's work, and he spent the large majority of his time working toward this goal.
As the end of his time there grew, he spoke strongly to those he had taught, begging them to seek out their kin and show them these new things as well, to spread the word that Aaviz was bringing them the knowledge to better their lives.
In the end, having spent many months with this simple village, it was time to leave, and he bid farewell to the many cetana, knowing that he was leaving behind friends he would likely never see again.
Several hours after leaving the village behind, he waited patiently behind a particularly large boulder, waiting on whatever it was that was following him. At first, he thought to himself that perhaps he had been mistaken, until the stealthy figure stepped out before him.
Angry, he stepped forward, lifting the slight form high in the air. "What are you doing here, Melina? You should be at home, not following me into the desert."
Frowning at him angrily, she shook her head. "No. I asked my mother and she said going with you was fine. So I can go if I want to."
Confused, Yantra set her down. "Why do you want to go with me? Won't you miss your family and friends? WHere I go, there are no Cetana for you to meet or play with. It is a hot place, where the sun's rays burn the land till little grows."
She smiled. "So? You want to go alone? You are my friend too, and I didn't want you to walk all alone all that way."
Shaking his head, he shrugged. "So be it, little one. Your mother said you could go, and you are right, I do not wish to be alone after having spent so much time with you and your village." Gently lifting her onto his should, he turned his head towards her as he walked. "We have a long way to go. What would you like to talk about?"
-----
Scampering through the tree branches, Sirin scrambled higher as fast as possible, relying on the branches smashing it's hunter away as it pursued. Reaching the top of the tree in short order, it screeched in irritation for a moment before making a huge leap towards another nearby tree, the skimmer right on it's trail despite his rapid ascension.
Letting her form alter into the a slightly smaller form as she landed, he quickly squeezed through several tightly woven branches. Hearing the rapid clicking of the irritated skimmer as it slammed into the branches and was thrown back, Sirin knew that she couldn't wait too long. Leaping down from the tree, she used several near by branches to slow her fall, landing lightly.
Feeling the loose dirt beneath her feet again, she turned to locate the skimmer as she scampered backwards and her eyes widened as the spotted the beast heading straight for her. Cursing her luck as having found of of the smarter ones, she conjured a simple illusion, letting the copies scamper away as she used a quick strand of webbing to jerk herself up into a nearby tree.
Relieved to see the skimmer veer off after the illusion, the aranea girl sighed in relief and made her way away from the area as quietly as possible.
-----
Yantra and Melina walked long and far, the golem walking tirelessly, carrying the girl when her feet were hurting too much or she was sleeping, never noticing the fatigue that a normal mortal might feel. As they approached his destination, the sun grew hotter and hotter and the dry stinging wind began to wear on even his tireless metal shell. In the end though, nothing would stop his search, and he finally came upon the elves as they rested beneath a simple covering, hiding from the sun.
When they awakened in the evening, as the sun finally faded over the horizon, they were alarmed by the huge shining creature that stood nearby with the strange humanoid creature in his arms. Still, the creature appeared unthreatening, and they noticed that he had several of the strange new beasts they had seen standing near him.
Setting Melilna down while she still slept, Yantra approached the elves, noting to himself that the eldest looked strangely odd compared to the other five. Keeping his voice down, so as to not startled them, he offered a small smile. "Greetings. I am Yantra, servant of Aaviz, your creator. I have come far to meet with you."
The older male, one of the odd looking ones, waved his family away and stood alone with the golem. "Greetings. I am called Elin. Why are you hear, sacred one? Have we angered out god? Our lives are hard here, avoiding the heat of the sun and the flying metal ones. I lost my eldest son to them not a week ago."
Yantra nodded. "Our lord understands your hardships. He is not angered, no. He created these beasts behind me to aid you, and has sent me here to teach you how to ride and train them, and how they may be of use to you in other ways even once they have passed on from this realm."
Elin's shoulders sagged in relief. "Such a great gift. We offer thanks to Aaviz for it, and thanks to you as well, Lord Yantra, for taking the time to teach us."
Yantra nodded to him. "If you and your family are prepared, we can begin immediately."
-----
Aaviz nodded before finally climbing to his feet. "Yes, I do believe things are going most well down there. Despite the skimmers, all my creations are managing to survive fairly well, wouldn't you agree, Itja-Rek. That does remind me though, I must call the mother and invite her to see my spider people. I feel that such a creation might appeal to her, don't you?"
Not waiting for a reply there, he conjured a clay pigeon, sending it to call for the Mother, with a simple message that he had something of interest to show to her when she had a bit of free time.
Cracking his knuckles, he was about to return to his watching when he looked at Itja-Rek again, thinking aloud. "I don't suppose you have any ideas, do you my friend? Things that might make things a bit easier for them down there, without making it too easy? Wouldn't want them to get fat and lazy after all."
1 PP - Nourish Populace - Elves, as their lives are made easier b the use of horses for meat, leather, and riding.
4/6+1/1 remaining.
It was a strange day for the Eladrin who had come far to catch the dobbit, only to find that another sentient being had caught it even before they did. Something didn't add up.
The lead hunter stood forth and pounded his spear into the ground and gazed deep into the being's eyes. "How come you come all this way to find food? You don't even look like you could eat anything other than air..." The other hunters laughed.
The elemental chuckled a bit. "Oh, is that so? Well then, if I am nothing but a cloud to you guys, then how come I can pick this poor guy up and feel his fur?" The elemental rubbed its hand across the creature's soft fur. The dobbit squirmed a bit before relaxing after each stroke of the being's hand across its fur.
The eladrin looked at each other. "I... impossible! How can you...?"
The elemental wagged its finger up in the air "Tsk, tsk. You should never judge a cloud by its size."
At this point, the eladrin were awestruck. It was even stranger times for them they had no idea what they were in for. "Well... if you can feel that creature's fur... THEN CAN YOU FEEL PAIN!?" The eladrin pulled his spear from the ground and charged towards the elemental-- spear at the ready, pointed at its target. The elemental picked up its spear and dropped the dobbit. It sprawled across the grassy ground, got back up, and took off without a sound. The Eladrin pushed the spear forward, while the elemental swung its spear around to block the stab. It barely grazes the elemental's form, and the spears are thrown off of each other's hands, as the elemental quickly blew the eladrin off of his feet and into the murky water below. The eladrin dove in with a splash, and the elemental stood back up-- ready for either a retaliation or a next attacker.
A stormbird came crashing through the trees, followed by a few others and a couple Thunderhawks. Elementals got off of a few strmbirds and addressed peace. The eladrin were shell-shocked by the sight of more elementals on their mobile steeds. Draekan stared at the eladrin. "And what do you think you are doing invading our lands? Didn't we tell you not to come near this place! You sharp-eared hooligans never learn anything, do you?"
The eladrin, shocked by the leader's words, spoke not a word, they did not moved an inch. The eladrin leader splashed to the surface, causing a little ruckus. A stormbird noticed the pale being, and bent its head down towards the eladrin. It carried the eladrin out of the water and dropped him onto dry ground. He quickly shook his head and instantly noticed the elementals. "Oh... um, hi... ummm... are we disturbing you in any way?"
Draekan gave the eladrin the same glaring look. "Vern'ka. I told you that these land were forbidden to the Eladrin tribes. This is a sacred site! I thought we already went through this with you!"
"Oh... ah, Drakean! Oh, um... so sorry. We were chasing this one creature through the forest, and we hadn't realized we had crossed the lines with you. So sorry..."
Draekan shook his head. "Nevermind... come. We have other important matters to discuss." He looked back at the assembly of the 5 eladrin warriors, who stared back in question. "Well, don't all of you look at me like I'm crazy! C'mon, we have things to discuss!"
~The Triskelion- Eradat Tribe~
The lead stormbird's call wakes the small village community to life, as the party returns. The Huntinger tribe had come into contact with the Eradat, forming a larger community, thus increasing its numbers greatly. The village started to gather around the small bonfire surrounded by large stones. The village elder approached the eladrin warriors with a discerning look. "You have crossed borders into our territories. It is said that the Eldarin nations shall not penetrate our boundaries. You five have made a foolish mistake. However, it was unexected timing for you, for we have grave news." The elder pulled up a crudely done scroll of the Triskelion by one of the villagers. "We have determined a large colony of beasts of terror starting to invade our territories. These creatures are terrifying, and a few of our people have been killed. Nothing we have faced before was able to defeat us-- let alone kill us, but these beasts had an almost alluring gaze upon them. They had colonized like wildfire, and seemed to flow down the great volcanoes like magma flows. A strange force is at work today, as they treaten to close in upon our territories East of here." The elder gave a look of bitter disappointment. "That is why I ask you to deliver this message to your tribe, so that we can fight off these creatures and hopefully restore balance to this sacred site. Otherwise, our connection with the Other World will be lost and may be taken over by these beasts of fire and rock."
The eladrin nodded in agreement, and took the scroll that was offered to them. They were offered a ride back to their settlement on Thunderhawks.
~East of the Triskelion...~
Fire and Magma spewed out from the volcanoes that bordered the landmasses-- a neverending hell across the spines of the mountains that threw fire into the air. Out of one of these volcanoes, a large colony of sentient beings grew and took their first steps ut into the open air. At first, they glowed red hot like the fire that spewed out from the earth, but then they hardened into stone giants, with the same fire that burnt within them. They walked across the surface and down the slopes towards on of the far ends of the Triskelion, leaving a trail of ash and destruction behind them.
~The Triskelion- Thunderwaltz Tribe~
When they had made it to the tribe, the warriors brought the news to their chieftain, who was astonished by the news at first. "What do you mean they 'threaten' the Elemental community? You know that we are forbidden from there in the first place! It's their responsibility!"
"But chief! They have put us in respnsibility as well! We talked to their village elder! They want our help!"
The chieftain looked surprised at this discovery. "What? You crossed borders with the Elemental tribe?" The chieftain pushed the leader across the courtyard with his walking stick. "Do you realize what you have done to us now? You have made us enemies to the community! Do you realize what the other chieftain will say about this when they hear such words?"
"Elder!" Draekan shouted with undaunted authority.
The chieftain froze in his steps and addressed to Draekan. "My condolences, Draekan. Is there something you'd want to say?"
"We have heard our elder speak of this, and we have come only to bring these men back. But nw that we are involved with each other, we should help one another. Our elder gave you the opporunity to form an alliance with us to stop this threat." Draekan put his hand out, containing a shard of the Other World in front of him. "See this? This is our destiny-- our hope, and if we don't do something now, this hope will die, and we will never see this shard of light again!" He hid the shard in his knapsack. "Will you join us-- to stop this terror, or are you just going to sit around like a bunch of sharp-eared, ignorant eladrin?"
The chieftain slipped int deep thought for a few moments, mumbling inaudibly with himself. "Well, I suppose an alliance is in order then, if this situation is so dire." He smiled, and then slammed his stick down on the ground. "Vern'ka! I want you to gather your best men and take them out to the community! We will meet you there shortly."
Vern'ka bowed. "Yes, chief." He gave a loud chant. "Hunters-- follow me!"
2PP- Guide Nation (Soulshard Nation): A nation of Air Elementals and the Virago Eladrin forms in an attempt to stop the oncoming threat of the Fire Elementals.
1PP- Nourish Population: The Fire Elementals become more numerous as they charge down the mountainside towards the far end of the Triskelion.
Current PP:
Base: 0/9
Combat: 1/1
"Ah, but that's exactly it!" said Syreene, a tinge of despair creeping into her voice. "I haven't the faintest idea how to create such a race! When I made the Lords, I shaped them from trees. It took long enough, and there are only three of them! But you!"
Syreene swept out her arms, indicating the newly birthed creatures around the hive. "You have no such problems with mass birthings. Teach me how to do so! Help me learn to do so!" the goddesses' pale green eyes seemed to plead at the Mother.
It had been near the top of the tree, so it had a long ways to fall. And as it fell, its fumes made the air twisty, and wavy, with sound and light sidtorting through it. It's fall was not straight either, for it zig-zagged from side to side, and even up as it fell. And it fell toward toward the assembly of gods straight below.
It eventually reached the ground, but not immediatly. It first bounced, hard, off Fiona's head. It then turned direction, and smashed into the ground an inch away from Absalom. It then lay there, still at last, but quivering, ever so slightly.
Umbart heard the goddess of wind speak her name and his heart stopped. The feeling had been to much. He was not sure what feeling was for his heart had broke before he could feel it. He wondered what he felt, but he would not know, not without a new heart. Trying to be polite, for that is what was done, Umbart replied
Schi'vya, that is a nice name.
With that Umbart stood and left. He was curious as to what he felt so he went to go and build himself a new heart. Deliberately and with the precision of a machine Umbart gathered up some of the dragon metal and began to shape it with the forge. Knowing, what they were expected to do the immortal couple rose the orcs to action.
A heart is a thing of passion and power, of feeling and dreams. Umbart had none of these, but his people did. They knew what their god did not. With each stork of the hammer, an undying love of Schi'vya was forged. With each turn of the tongs, a limitless ability for rage was honed. Soon the heart was done, but was Umbart was tired, he would replace his broken heart with this new one in the morning.
That night, in a quest for divinity, the immortal man awoke with dishonor in his heart. He stole away from his bed and his wife and sought the heart that only a god could forge. The tribe was tired and saw nothing. Snatching the heart from forge where Umbart had left it he devoured it in three quick bites.
Passion overwhelmed this new being separate from his mate for the first time. Maximillion was born to gods fury and a gods love. He could not stop himself for he had been created in dishonor, he must have Schi'vya. He went to her chamber with lust in his heart, but he was not alone.
Sheba, alone for the first time, awoke in her bed and knew of her husbands betrayal. She had not lost her honor and honor commanded vengeance. Though her former husband was bigger and stronger, she had the faster bland and clearer mind. Taking her sword and her courage she went to serve her former husband with a divorce.
When Maximillion laid his eyes on Sheba rage filled him. He was berserk in a way only god can, but his body was only part divine. In his rage, he neglected his defense. Sheba for her part could not stand against such fury. Using cunning and skill she fell back fell back and lead the fight into chamber that house the both Umbart and Schi'vya. She knew that the gods would see whose cause was jest and whose heart held dishonor.
3/9 PP
-4 PP (1 from forge) split the immortal couple into Sheba and Maximillion. Both are arbitration exarchs.
But Itja-Rek was not listening to Aaviz' latest words about what, if anything, he could add to make these 'elves' lives harder. He was still focused on the wizard's earlier words.
"Oh, so is that it. I am weak because of my unique differences to you, because my brain works differently, is different, is made up of something different. My brain IS these souls, their conciousnesses melded together into a coherent entity which you know as Itja-Rek. Strengthen my mind? I could no more do that than you, and to assume that without knowledge is just like you, Aaviz."
The god rounded on Aaviz, black eyes glinting in the fading sunlight.
"But then, that is what defines you, isn't it? The bold and inane leap of logic, the synthesis of a thousand glimmering strands that mean nothing when put together, the memories of a thousand lifetimes that have no bearing on the current situation and the constant desire to make me conform to your way of thinking. I shall tell you a secret. I do not understand, nor have any desire to attempt to understand how you think. I am not you, I do not wish to be you, and honestly, if I were to become you, I'd find the quickest way back to the Otherness that I could and succumb to oblivion."
He lifted the crown and brandished it at Aaviz.
"And this little toy is just another one of your ploys. Do you know what this makes me feel, Aaviz? Dull. It may do its job, but it does not do it in a way that makes me happy. The voices are... reassuring, and these silence them and I refuse to live like that. I may not be you, but I have my own desires, and your helpful input, pity and scorn are not helpful, welcome or appreciated."
Angrily, Itja-Rek pointed downwards and let out a burst of divine energy and turned and left Aaviz, heading for the Hive. He had had enough.
~On Ordarak-Rek~
The Cetana had for years buried their dead in the old ways, the family of the deceased gathering around the body of the dead as it was lowered into the earth and covered up with dirt before planting a small tree on the grave just above the heart of the Vineaza below. To those privleged few who had been invited to one of the ceremonies, it was supposedly a very moving time, with the family of the deceased singing strange lilting songs from the days before their sentience had been fully realized.
Lacking any classically defined sense of tonality or structure, the paeans were more expressions of raw emotion, blended together into complex songs whose harmonies weaved in and out of concordance over the night-long vigil. It was said that the longer you listened, the more it beckoned you in, a hypnotic urge to arise and join in the singing. The tradition was that the closest person to the deceased, often a spouse, sometimes a parent or sibling or child, would begin to sing the moment the sun vanished. Soon, other family members would join. Not all at once but when they felt called to join in the hymn. Slowly throughout the night, more and more Cetana would join the singing, wandering in from the fields and the nearby village as the song grew in strength over the course of the night, echoing through the land, and finding its way into every home and heart.
As the sun reappeared through the Veil, the song began to die out in reverse order, the last to join wandering off first, then others, until finally only the original singer sang until the dawning light touched the grave, at which point, according to tradition, the soul of the dead Cetana was at peace and no longer needed the company of the singers having survived its first and yet also final night.
Tonight, it was Garat's funeral, and his wife, Minac, stood over his grave along with her husband's extended family and their four children. They had been singing their song now for about six hours, but as it was a long night, they knew they had a long way to go before sunrise. Her children, she saw, shuffled their feet back and forth impatiently, but to their credit, did not cease singing the hymns of farewell for their father.
They continued to sing for several hours, now each lost in the music, willing their throats and their legs to keep at it and not give up until the sunrise came. It would not be long.
And so it was that none of them noticed when the earthen grave which they were surrounding began to... wiggle, for lack of a better word. Every once in a while the earth would shift slightly one way and then the other. If they had examined other recent graves, they would have seen a similar phenomenon, not happening at every grave, but at a sizable fraction. The tiny saplings that had been planted began to shake slightly, as if in an erratic wind, but it wasn't until Garat's tree tilted on its side that the singers took notice. Their voices faltered as they looked down at the grave, which was now moving violently.
A few moments later, Garat's hand appeared, clawing the dirt and soon followed by the other arm and the head. While the other Cetana backed away, Minac bent closer.
"Garat?" she whispered softly
Garat turned to look at her, and Minac gasped as she realized that her husband was still dead. She began to pull away...
...but was stopped as Garat reached out and drew her close, teeth snapping down on her shoulder as his legs kicked their way from the grave. Any Cetana who would have rushed to help the screaming Minac were deterred when they noticed the other forms pulling themselves up from the dirt. Instead, they ran as Garat continued to bite Minac until she stopped moving.
~Baheshep~
The First Man pulled himself off of the Altar, his bones creaking as he looked down at his now ancient body. Already old, this latest Severance had transformed him into the body of an 80-some year old man, yet his mind had never been clearer.
He had noticed it more and more these past few Severances, how each time he underwent the procedure, his mind had seemed clearer and more focused. He had attributed it to being used to the process, but this time... he felt a single-minded drive now, something he had never felt to this extent before. It was as if all his doubts and misgivings had vanished like dew. Reaching out for a cane someone offered him, he hobbled around to the side of the Altar as then next Bahenet was brought forward, gripping his head. It was an apprentice blacksmith before him, one who had recently been given his own shop and, had the headaches that presaged every Severance not begun, he would have been a master by now, running that store himself.
The First Man looked down at the young man as he lay down on the Altar. He was far too young to be a master. He needed greater clarity.
"Do two rituals back to back" he said to his eldest son, who had taken over the responsibilities of Severance after his father's last ritual.
"Two? We have never-"
"Do not question me. This is how it must be. He must be ready and of the proper age to be a shop keeper."
The man on the Altar's eyes widened as the blades went over him not once but twice before the words finished, and with a shout of great pain, his body wrenched itself into an older age. He shakily got to his feet and staggered off into the arms of his shocked family.
But they were not the only ones to recive a shock that day. It was now painfully clear to The First Man that certain people needed to look a certain way to perform their tasks. THe most dramatic was when a young boy, here for his first severance lay down on the table. His sponsor, one of the older members of the tribe, leaned in to talk to The First One.
"Elder, I am very proud of this boy. He shows great skill with teaching others and has taken over from one of the teachers when her Severance-fever struck."
The man gesuted to a middle-aged woman waiting in line, holding her head and muttering to herself. The long winter snows had delayed their journey, and many of the people undergoing Severance today had been waiting for many long months.
"He is a natural teacher?" The First One asked.
"Yes, Elder. Perhaps you would say a few words to him? It would mean a lot to me if you would guide him down his path."
The First One nodded and, gesturing to his son, picked up the knife as the other stepped away from the Altar.
"They tell me you would make a fine teacher" he said softly to the boy. "Would you like to start being one tomorrow?"
The boy nodded, amazed at the offer from his Elder.
"Very well." said The First One. Teachers required much greater focus than mere shopkeepers. The first One began intoning the ritual, moving the blade quickly over the boy's body. Once, twice, threefourfive times before the words stopped. Beneath his hands, the boy's body jerked one way and the next and the Altar hummed as one by one, five souls were plucked from the boy's body and the boy began to age, soon coming to a stop at the same age as his former teacher.
"You start tomorrow." The First One said.
2 PP: Spawn Beast: Zombies rise up from their graves!
Sighing to himself, he frowned. "He really doesn't make a whole lot of sense sometime. Ploy? What ploy? And I don't want him to conform to my way of thinking. At least, I don't think I do. I'm often not sure what I think anymore, I've thought so much. Honestly though, if that stupid crown makes him feel so bad, then he should discard it. I was just trying to help and if it's not helping, then he should stop using it."
Shaking his head, he closed his eyes, letting himself relax, fading from view.
The Hive
The Mother twitched her antennae thoughtfully. "The Syreene, you do not know what you ask of me," the Mother replied. "Surely, I am familiar with mass-births, and Children and mating are within my domain... but I cannot imagine a way a Child could have more than one mother! More than one father surely, all it would take is for a single mother to merge their seed into a single sort of 'super' child, but more than one mother... would require them sharing a birth canal! I cannot imagine how, physically, a child could have more than a single mother."
Thinking for a few moment more, the Mother continued. "However, these Troinats... they have accepted me as a Mother, even though I did not birth them. The same may hold true for more mortal mothers. If we could create a race that though it didn't have more than one physical mother, but had many, many CULTURAL ones... would that suit your needs, the Syreene?"
Syreene blinked. "Now it is I who stand confused."
"I did not consider a race with aught other than a single "mother" and a single "father". I meant rather that within the race itself, of the five genders, three could be mothers, the other two fathers, and any pairing of any father and any mother (despite any physical dissimilarities between the various fathers and mothers themselves) would viably further propagate the species."
Outside of the Hive
The Mother cocked her head in puzzlement. "Perhaps I... misunderstood you then? Five genders, well that is an interesting idea, though I have little idea of how... did you mean that we have three 'females' and two 'males'? So a 'female' still needs a 'male' and can't mate with a 'female'? And a 'male' can't mate with a 'male' either? Or did you wish there to be some way for 'females' to mate among 'females' as well?"
Perhaps a visual aid would help... the Mother hacked up some slime, before causing the steam coming off from it to condense into five figures. One was a trilobite, one a troinat, one a broodling, one a naga, and one an ithillid. "So I understand it, in this idea for a race of yours, let us say the Ithillid and Naga are male, and the others female. You would have it so that the Ithillid could mate with the Trilobite, the Troinat, and the Broodling, but not the Naga, and the Naga the same logic? Though I expect your race would not have QUITE so many physical differences!"
"Though again, I find myself at a loss as how to--" Syreene's thought dangled, unfinished in the air. She nodded to herself once, shuddered, and began to change.
In seconds, Syreene was gone, and Sonnet stood in her place. Absent was his usual array of cloaks and tunics, instead the Lord of Fates was garbed in a strange, buckled and shelled armor formed of something resembling discarded Shells and Exoskeletons. It made him look almost... insectile.
Sonnet bowed before The Mother. "Mother, are we in agreement then? Will you allow us to bind your vast knowledge and strengths with our own to engender such creatures?"
Outside of the Hive
It was always slightly discerning how the Syreene... no, the Sonnet now did that. If it was merely shifting forms, it would be less so, but shifting minds and gender as well? She supposed the Itja-Rek did it too, but he didn't do so quite so... methodically. She had to admit though, she did like his new clothes...
"I will," the Mother agreed with a nod and release of content pheromones. "It sounds like a wonderful project now I can actually understand it! I will lend you as much or as little power as you desire, and give you as much of my ideas and knowledge as I am able." She preened her antennae a little happily at being praised as such... she liked it when others complimented her.
"With any luck, our children will inherit much of your beauty as well." Sonnet slowly approached the Mother, slowly, cautiously, laying his hands against her mandibles, gently guiding the larger goddess' head towards his own. He leaned forwards, touching forehead with forehead and then -- as flesh touched so to did consciousness.
The Mother was suddenly able to feel Sonnet, and Syreene too, how odd -- two distinct consciousnesses joined at the metaphysical hip, against her own. Power flowed freely between the three minds, the-part-of-the-metaconcert-that-was-Syreene flowing sinnuously around and among the-part-of-the-metaconcert-that-was-the-mother, as the-part-of-the-metaconcert-that-was-Sonnet held the latter tightly, gently but firmly in position as the former tantalized every cell and fibre of their joined bodies, sending sensation sparking and stuttering through their temporarily merged nervous pathways.
Wrapped in the caring embrace of the Sonnet and Syreene psyche, the Mother found the synthesized metamind filling her own with information. She knew now how the Syreene had envisioned the children, could see the various forms as they were, as they soon would be. Inside her body, the Mother could sense the Syreene's energy, carefully directing the rapidly growing eggs that were even now forming.
The Mother was quite pleased with The Syreene and Sonnet -- their combined children would have beautiful exoskeletons as well as flesh. And were those to be layered wings? Surely, she could feel no shame in such beautiful insect-children such as these!
And above all, the unfettered pleasure, the ultimate joy of both being part of a greater whole, and the incalculable nirvana of creation, of creating. Pheromones for extreme happiness were rolling off the Mother in waves, actually tinting the air around their bodies a hazy pink, as if they were obscured by a haze of pink heat.
So they stood, still as statues, the androgynous figure in chitinous armor and the massive insect, leaning forehead to forehead, arms and forelegs gripping each other for protective stability, awash in a nearly palpable pink cloud of pleasure. It looked completely innocent, yet something in the air bespoke a sense of luridity unknown throughout the region of the Hive.
It was a scene that simply begged for some unwitting bumbler to stumble upon, in a strange case of accidental voyeurism.
-2 PP Shape the Kyrion, an interesting race of insectile demi-humans. Unlike the XY sexual determination of most species, Kyrions have three possible sex genes, X, Y, and Z. XY or ZY individuals are considered "male", while ZZ, ZX, and XX individuals are female, with prominent physical differences between the various genotypes.
In a funk, Itja-Rek traveled to the hive, ignoring the parting words from the god behind him, heading with determination to the Hive, a place of familiarity, of warmth, of friendship.
However, as he approached, he saw the Mother and Syree- no, Sonnet standing, facing one another. Curious, he dropped down lower to try and determine what was going on. He opened his mouth to speak, but... stopped.
What WAS going on? It was at once... boring and... somehow... exciting? Dirty yet pure? The two gods were almost visually throwing off emotions left nad right, flickers of colors appearing in the air about them.
Curious, Itja-Rek sat down and waited until they finished, as it was clear neither of them were going to notice him.
Outside the Hive
This was... ecstasy. There was no other way to describe it! The Mother had been part of the community before, helping to shape, to grow, and to birth others ideas and creations. But this was... different. These were her Children, with the seed of another within them. THEIR Children, rather, instead of hers with a little help, or someone else's with the same. It was... overwhelming. She had never thought having someone inside of her would feel so good!
That... probably didn't come out right. But the point was, these Children would not just be born of a Mother, but a Father as well. Or two Mothers, depending on the seasons. Huh, perhaps there would be Children with two Mothers after all? If not in the way she had originally thought the Syreene was talking about.
The link more or less over, the Mother would have panted if she had actually possessed lungs and didn't breathe through an assortment of small holes over her carapace. And her heart would have been beating a mile a minute if her blood was not directed through an odd system of osmoses as opposed to a central vesicle. As it was though, she slumped against the Sonnet, just... enjoying the moment.
"You... did not say it would be quite so pleasurable to make these Children with you, the Sonnet," the Mother spoke finally. "I would have spent... a lot less time talking about it if I'd of known it would feel this way."
But she could not rest... not quite yet. The Sonnet had put so much of his strength within her, she must lend her own to their Children as well, so that they could be born and thrive in this world.
Raising her abdomen, the Mother began to push out egg after egg, birthing the Children of the Sonnets vision, and her body. They seemed so... wonderful, the sooner they were born into the world, the better! Though perhaps she should have waited a little longer... she was practically collapsed by the end of the birthing.
"Our Children shall be wonderful I am sure, the Sonnet," the Mother noted, sighing contently as she rested on her haunches.
1PP - Going towards Veoks shape populace action.
1PP - Nourish Veoks new populace
[6/9, 1/1 Nourish, 1/1 Arbitration]
The bifurcated god said nothing, bracing itself against The Mother's great mass for support. Syreene|Sonnet was breathing heavily, though a small smile was now rapidly forming on its face.
Several long, tender moments passed.
"Believe me..." the deity eventually said. "I was as surprised as you." The god rubbed the exoskeleton of The Mother fondly, as it focused on regaing its breath. It was several minutes before the androgyony of the god lapsed into Sonnet, the carapace of armor dissolving back into his silk clothes as the balance within him faded.
"Is it wrong of me to hope these Kyrion may be flawed, and necessitate a repetition of that process?"
Sonnet's eyes narrowed as he made out Itja-Rek among the now rapidly dispersing cloud of pheromones. He placed his arm protectively on one of the Mother's forelimbs, a gesture quite incongruous given the size differential between the two of them.
"It seems we've a visitor."
Outside the Hive
The Mother almost purred at the feeling of the Sonnet leaning up against her... this was nice. Feeling another Mother so close, sharing in the creation of something and the sheer pleasure of doing so... though she had accepted help from other Mothers before, and given the same, she had never truly shared something so... intimate with one.
She chuckled a little at his comment. "Perhaps so, though I do not blame you for thinking so. We... REALLY need to do things like this more often," was all she could think to say.
Hm, a visitor? It was nice of the Sonnet to place his arm like that... even though she was so much bigger than him in terms of size, the gesture none the less made her feel... well, safe. Not that she ever felt otherwise, what Mother would hurt her? But none the less, it made her feel so, almost paradoxically.
Oh... it was the Itja-Rek. The Mother felt no embarrassment having been discovered making Children with the Sonnet, but... well the events of the tomb were still fresh in her mind, and seeing the Itja-Rek was somewhat painful. "Greetings, the Itja-Rek," the Mother told him, not really meeting his eyes.
Schi'vya opened her eyes to see that she was in some sort of room with Umbart nearby. There was something strange as well; there was another, weaker divine presence-- actually a couple divine figures present in the room. She blinked and saw two orcs at the doorway. One of them was carrying a sword and wore an expression of anger towards the other orc, who was persistantly looking towards Schi'vya. A small tinge of pain poked from within her-- 'The sword.'
Within an instant, the hilt of the blade appeared in her hand, followed by the blade itself. The runes soon followed, cutting their inscriptions within the metal. Schi'vya held the point at the Orc who stared at her. "What are you staring at? Have you not seen a god before?"
A single voice whispered through her ear, like the faint gust of wind on a calm evening. 'Monos. Cloud the opposer with thoughts of bitter anguish and to his betrayal.'
'Betrayal? What betra... oohhh...' Just now realizing the voice's words, she had determined that this orc was not only a nuisance-- it was looking for lust. Schi'vya was not bound to that. She whispered a paryer to herself and shuted the word. "Monos!"
A single stream of air shot forth from the sword and surrounded the orc, encasing it within a thick cloud of darkness and despair. The cloud disappears-- only to find out the poor fate of this orc's actions. It was the orc's mistake, and he had to pay the price. "Serves you right!"
Nedjiba was an odd sort of boy. Odd not for his circumstance, which was menial, nor his appearance, which was plain, but rather for his mind, quick thinking and logical. One so close to his first Severance should be beginning to feel the Crowding, but with him there was none. His mind was still cool, clear, and strategic. But there was also a caring there that he kept from his parents and teachers, one he shared only with his beloved sister.
And there was another reason for his strangeness. Nedjiba was not, as Bahenet are prone to do, born alone. No, he came screaming into the world with his oft-times fierce rival, oft-times greatest friend, Nefrew. His sister, however, was remarkable only in the manner of birth and for her beautiful face. It was said that she would be destined to a single, perhaps two, severances to render her a capable wife, and then spend the rest of her life serving her husband. She was, in essence, the perfect bride. But where the Elders saw naught but marriage in Nefrew's future, they saw only a great capacity for leading in Nedjiba's. But Nedjiba didn't want any of it. Her didn't want to lead, he didn't want to be brilliant, or strategic, or anything of the sort. Nedjiba didn't even want to Sever. All he wanted was to run through the fields forever, the wind at his back and darling Nefrew at his side, free to dance forevermore, and be forevermore just as they are now. Happy, free, and safe.
Nefrew however, adopted a different view. Despite her considerably poorer prospects post-Severance, she seemed to welcome the ritual. She had often asked her mother if the event could be done even sooner, much to her brother's consternation. For her, life of following expectations was not so bad. Despite her apparent similarities to her brother, Nefrew was very different, at her core. She was no leader, whereas her brother, despite his reluctance, seemed destined for it.
For months before the Severance, the two seemed to contemplate nothing but, though for completely different reasons. These days, not a carefree day in the fields passed without Nefrew wondering aloud about her wedding garb, or Nedjiba suggesting ideas about how to delay it. Both siblings accepted the words of the other laughing, as though it was all some big joke. But at their very core, both were disturbed by the differences that, with every passing day, were becoming evident between them. Never before had Nefrew noticed how much wider Nedjiba's nose was than hers, and never before had Nedjiba observed the odd way Nefrew spoke, always cheery and singsong, very different from his own soft murmur. It was the appearance of these changes that marked the beginning of the slow emotional separation of these twins, once so happy and carefree. It seemed nothing could ever return to how it once was.
Then, three weeks before the Severance, Nedjiba did the unthinkable: he asked Nefrew to run away with him, run away and not get the Severance. And then Nefrew said something that shocked them both to their cores.
She said yes.
At the, shall we say... climax of the intense communion between The Mother and Sonnet, Itja-Rek finally figured out what was going on, and to his immense surprise, felt an emotion that was wholly ungodly and certainly new to him. He felt anger towards Sonnet. Anger and frustration at the other's prowess and abilities, anger at his presence here, in the Hive, the special place he and The Mother had made together. He was, without a doubt, jealous of the other god.
"Sonnet." He said in a clipped tone. Barely a greeting, really, especially given how he immediately turned to The Mother.
"Mother, good to see you again. I see you have been busy in my absence. I apologize for barging in like this, but I needed a friendly face after the harsh claims Aaviz leveled against me. If you wish me to go..." his eyes narrowed and darted to Sonnet before returning to The Mother. "I will do so."
~Bahetshep~
The First One stood before the Altar of Initiation, the altar of his death. He stumbled as Hed-Iwai shoved him forward and two other Bahenet grabbed his arms and feet as sprawled across the altar. His frail form offered little resistance to the young 8-souls, but his mouth hurtled insults and threats nonetheless as his final doom approached. Hed-Iwai, a two-soul guildmaster, began the chants as he reached for the blade. As his foe began to make the patterns, The First One couldn't help but recall what had happened over the past two days.
He had been in his chambers, as afforded him by his status as Elder, reading the reports brought to him by the younger members of the government, mostly seven-souls but every once in a while written by one of the senior politicians, a 3-soul. The difference in writing style was obvious. The 3-souls wrote with a clarity and drive far superior to the 7-souls, no doubt due to the greater focus of their minds due to there being far more room available.
He had been reading the reports from one of the 4-soul teachers, the very one he had elevated several years ago at the man's first Severance. Apparently, two of his pupils, a Nedjiba and Nefrew had not reported to their lessons nor had their parents seen them. The First One gestured to one of his clerks to find a tracker, preferably 6-soul or fewer. Runaways were uncommon but not unheard of. Every once in a while the children feared Severance. By the time they were found most were in the middle of their first Crowding... or worse.
The door had opened and he had glanced up expecting to see a tracker but instead saw Hed-Iwai and a band of thugs. They had taken him, paraded him through the town and then dragged his frail body across the mountains to the Altar. He had begged for mercy, begged to know why they were doing this, but all he heard in reply was 'it is time for you to move on, Elder. We do not agree with you anymore."
The words ended and the blade came down. One,two,three,four,five. The First One gasped a final gasp of air into his lungs as his soul fled and his body turned to dust and blew away in the constant wind.
Satisfied, Hed-Iwai lay down on the Altar and soon arose, the next Elder of the Bahenet peoples.
Under cloak of darkness, the Twin Children fled. Nedjiba had packed a bundle of food and provisions, having planned his escape for many weeks now. He seemed wholly devoted to his purpose, clear and sure. His sister, however, was not. She wandered along beside him, as though in a dense fog. Still she could not believe the words her mouth had spoken, could not believe the path her feet had followed. As they paused by a great old tree to catch their breath and for Nedjiba to check for pursuers, she spoke.
"Jiba..." she began, hesitant to use her brother's childhood nickname for those days seemed so long gone now, "Why are we doing this?"
Nedjiba, focused on his task, peered around the tree into the dense blackness beyond, his eyes picking up any trace of movement, spotting every little change, even in the enveloping dark. He didn't answer at first, so trained was he on his mission. Try as he might to deny it, but a job of war games and keen strategizing seemed irrevocable for him. But then he let out his breath slowly, quietly, conscious even now that any sound they made may be picked up by the opposition.
"Nef, how can you be asking me this now?" he asked, his whisper barely more than a soft sigh, "How can you have come so far to ask that?"
Nefrew was immediately ashamed. She was thankful for the blackness. Her cheeks were now deep crimson. She had not meant to come across as so weak, especially when he was being so strong, but she felt she had to know. She had followed her brother so that she could watch over him, keep him safe. It seemed now that he was the one keeping her safe. It seemed that she was only slowing him down. She waited a long time before answering.
"I... I'm sorry Jiba, forget I said anything," she mumbled finally, her eyes trained on her barely visible hands, which were twisted together due to nerves.
But Nedjiba wasn't listening. He had heard something shift in the blackness. With silent grace and swift reflexes, he pulled Nefrew down to the ground beside him, hiding her against the tree. He pulled her close to him, and mouthed a single word so that only she could see.
Trackers.
Almost immediately, Nefrew's whole body tensed up. That one word sent shivers down her spine. How could they have been found? How had they tracked them so quickly? Was it just a coincidence? Sadly, the girl's whole culture had taught her not to believe in coincidences. She had been taught to believe that absolutely everything happened for a reason. She just didn't know what reason had brought those trackers here. She hoped with all her heart that it had not been them. Despite all her words about wanting to do the Severance, she did not want Trackers involved. No one wanted Trackers involved. So she tensed, and waited. Finally, after what seemed like hours, the sound passed, and they relaxed. For now.
Outside the Hive
Was... was the Itja-Rek MAD at her? For what?? He'd seen her share power with gods before, and he'd even had Children with a few gods himself! Admittedly, this time had been... more intimate. More passionate. But wasn't that a good thing? Besides which, for someone who showed so little passion at times, maybe he could learn a thing or two from the Sonnet!
"Ah, I know what you mean, the Itja-Rek," the Mother replied. "That is the reason I came to the Hive also... after the words the Mate You Decided To Unmate When Her Form No Longer Pleased You threw at me after you decided to simply take back the word you gave her in the heat of the moment, with no thought at all, on the assumption she would say no, I found myself needing some air. The Sonnet was kind enough to of waited for me all the time I was with you, and told me of an idea he had for some Children, and I was only to happy to oblige, especially since the Children you said we would make in the tomb seemed to have fallen at the wayside when you got more pleasant company than my own."
The Mother knew she was being unfair, but he was too! How DARE he take that tone with either of them for doing nothing but making the world more filled with Children and enjoying doing so, especially with how little he'd been doing but gathering up his pet souls! "If you wish to stay however, by all means do so," she went on. "Me and the Sonnet might enjoy your company, and your opinion on the Sonnets wonderful idea for Children."
The Mother's words, but more clearly her tone, stung, digging deep into him like claws and Itja-Rek's mind reeled in shock and pain. He had no quarrel with her, had never had any quarrel with her and had absolutely no idea where this venom was coming from.
"I- ah. Well- more Pleasant? You- but- what? No..."
The god fought to calm himself, but between the anger he felt towards Sonnet and the ire he felt from The Mother, it was no luck.
"I- I'm- Ssssssss"
And he was gone, fleeing as fast as he could from the happy couple and heading upwards along the Godspire. Curious, he slowed as he came to the center, wondering if deep within Davos still kept counsel. He wriggled his way in through a small hole, traversed the slide and followed the digging-holes of nagas until he arrived within the Caverns of Davos.
"Anyone home?" he called out, half expecting an answer, half-expecting nothing but oppressive silence. Which wouldn't be so bad... it would give him somewhere to think that no one would think to look for him.
Outside the Hive
The Mother knew she had been harsh, but... the Itja-Rek had been so infuriating lately! He proposed to someone he hardly knew, then unproposed to them not because of anything else, but because, of all things, they had changed shape! And he hadn't done a wit to defend the Mother from all those 'bloated' comments when he broke the news after trying to change to be with her, despite never doing the same for the Mother herself! And then, he called her 'Mysterious' of all things! As if she was some thing to not understand, too complicated for him to work out! And then he had the ire, despite all of it, despite never showing her anything but casual friendship despite thinking the world of him, to be JEALOUS because she made Children with someone else when he had done the same how many times??
None the less, the Itja-Rek was still worthy of... oh he did NOT just walk away in the middle of a discussion! On some level, the Mother knew part of it all was the lingering hormones of birthing... which was why she usually tried to rest after giving birth to her young aside from the other Mothers... but even so, it all seemed to add up to just be... be... infuriating!
"GET BACK HERE YOU.... YOU.... GAH!" the Mother relented, shuddering with frustration and giving off enough angry pheromones you could actually see them. Honestly, that man! How could he do all of that, ignore her except for asking her help and a bit of friendship, offer to mate someone else and stop only because they decided they liked a new form better... and still make her love him?
Sighing, the Mother pensively sunk back onto her haunches, not used to feeling quite so... angry at things. Usually she was quite gentle except when scolding foolishness... though she had never come across quite this much foolishness before!
"I am sorry you had to hear that, the Sonnet," the Mother apologized, idly playing with one of the unhatched eggs of their Children with one leg segment.
A time of peace seemed to have come to the nation of Nihilian. The Day of Dread had left most of the High Council dead, the slave revolt had killed countless, and the mysterious ash-deaths had injured them when they were already nigh helpless. But after that, things seemed to have calmed, and life began to return to normal.
The day in particular was nothing of note; ilithids went about their business as on any other. Yet near noon, as the sun and the moon came around the Godspire, those who watched the heavens saw that Mani was closer to his prey than ever before, too close. Darkness began to cover Sol, the great disk of the sun was eclipsed by the moon. One by one mortals stopped to watch, for never had this occurred before. As the sun seemed wholly consumed a great ring of brilliance formed around the two.
Ill omened was that light. In the twilight of the eclipse the ground underneath the mindflayers settlements changed. Stone weakened and lost its strength, the dirt gave was as if it were water, and across the Triskelion continent cities began to sink into the earth. It was as if the very ground had turned against the nation of Nihilian.
A great panic swept the mindflayers, but the earth held their feat as if bound by divine judgment. They could not flee the destruction of their cities. With their buildings, with every trace of their civilization, they sank beneath the waves of the earth. In the span of an hour, all traces of the mindflayers were wiped from the continent, the only hints that they had ever existed there were fields of what appeared to be the ocean during a great storm, turned to stone, where the cities once were.
So were the words of Despair brought to fulfillment. Yet the Lord of the Changing Tide served Harkon, and the Lord of Waters had no desire to end life entirely. It was against the unwavering ascent that his anger was turned, it was against the threat of eternal and unnatural life of a mortal nation, it was against the threat of ilithids coming to dominate the world. Everything lives, but everything must in its time die as well so that yet new life might arise. Such as the order of the world, and such was the god’s motivation.
Beneath the now-hard surface of the earth, the Ilithid cities still existed, as did the mindflayers and their slaves. Down, down further still, they sank, to the very roots of the continent, and beyond, past where gravity was down and now became up. Into darkness their cities crested alien waves. They had only heard rumor, gossip, that there was another side to the world, now they knew it as fact.
The Ilitihid nation was in shambles, many had died, but they had a new home now. High above them there floated the barest tip of an iceberg, a glacier, surrounded by thick storming clouds. This ice seemed to glow faintly with an other-worldly light, one that cast a pale glamour over the land, which they named the Outerdark.
In time they would come to discover the vast underground network of caves and tunnels, and they would find a few precious few that, though the path was difficult, could lead them back to the inner world.
4PP (2 from harkon, 1 from sun&moon, 1 from chains) – Mold Land (Greater): Outerdark. Move all Nihilian settlements to the flip-side of the world, causing the Triskelion continent to effectively go through the veil of water to the other side as well. The mindflayers are essentially living on the bottom of that continent now… or the surface and the Eladrin are living on the bottom, depending on one’s perspective. There is a network of caves and tunnels that lead between the two surfaces, though they are precious few and not suited to the movement of large forces. To note, since the region around Titan’s Glacier has a heavy population of living storms, the light of the sun and the moon do little to illuminate that place.
4PP +1 remaining
Dusk settled over the plains as the sleepy twins awoke. Sleeping by day and traveling by night, they were able to remain hidden. The darkness was no problem for navigation, for Nedjiba had become quite skilled with using the Waltzing Mountains for direction, and in any case, they were running away from something, not towards anything. It soon became clear, however, that their provisions would not last long. Their choice to journey at night had allowed them to escape the often overwhelming heat of the sun, but it also meant that spots to stop and stock up were less easily found. They had yet to stumble across any sort of settlement, Bahenet or otherwise, and they were beginning to worry. This was both a blessing and a curse, for the further away from the Bahenet they got, the less likely they were of getting caught by the Trackers, but they were also less likely to find any food to steal. Thus they had begun to ration.
"I am hungry Jiba," moaned Nefrew one night, all traces of nervousness gone, to be replaced only by hunger and impatience, "When are we going to eat?"
Nefrew was used to regularly served home-cooked meals by her mother, and thus was not used to going without. Nedjiba on the other hand, seemed almost made to survive, no matter the circumstance, and thus coped quite well. Even at such a young age, he seemed to have the body of a soldier.
"Oh Nef," replied Nedjiba wearily, still speaking in that low murmur that wouldn't carry very far, "Just a little bit longer, I promise."
But Nefrew was adamant. That was what he'd told her hours ago, and she told him so. Only silence greeted her words. The twins walked in silence for a time, each stewing in their frustration with the other. It seemed as though the journey, far from bringing them together, was further driving a wedge between them. It was early morning by the time they finally spoke again, and distant Sol was casting a purplish glow across the flat horizon.
"You know," began Nedjiba slowly, his voice stiff from not being used, "This reminds me of-"
"Of the time we got lost in the forest?" finished Nefrew, smiling despite herself, "We were lost for hours then."
Nedjiba stopped in his tracks to watch Sol slowly creep his way up into the sky. Colours, like a spilled painter's can, bled across the dawning sky, painting the ground with their glow.
"Mother was so worried," continued Nedjiba, a slow smile spreading across his face, "It was past dawn when they finally found us."
An identical smile was spreading across Nefrew's face, though she looked not at the sun. She was watching her brother, an odd glint in her eye. It was almost sad. But she didn't speak.
"We sat on the tree stump and watched the sun come up," murmured Nedjiba, "Do you remember that?"
"Yeah..." said Nefrew softly.
And though there was no tree stump handy, the Twins sat together on the cold hard earth, and watched the sunrise. And in that moment, they were as they were, happy, carefree and innocent, just two friends watching the marvelous splendor of the world. And then, when the sun had fully risen, they set up camp and prepared for bed.
In the oceans of Korias the mazunti found that the sea cliffs, though seemingly barren at first, were well suited for growing things, as plant life of all sort quickly took hold. A tropical paradise awaited climbers atop of each, which fruits and useful plants of all sort. Settlements were established up there, with small farms that fed themselves and provided just enough food to help bring diversity to the aquatic diet of their cousins below the waves.
Great vines from above swayed as the wind whistled between the cliffs, and mazunti young loved to climb upon them and swing into the ocean waters, several stories below, the adrenaline rush causing them to laugh with glee.
It was a happy time for the sea dwarves and they named the part of the ocean in which they lived, where their coral homes grew, where the seamats floated, and where the cliffs rose above the waves. They named it the Sea of Eden, for it was a paradise to them.
1PP Nourish – the sea cliffs get a liveable tropical ecosystem
0PP Name Land – the part of the ocean where the Mazunti live is named the Sea of Eden
2PP +1 remaining
"Sorry I had to see what? You did not behave out of turn." Sonnet's voice was unusually high pitched. "Though we admit that we do not know the circumstances surrounding your last meeting with him. Nor do we care to, particularly."
Sonnet, his voice deepening again, looked out over the scope of Korias "I think I see a good place for these new younglings."
~The Triskelion~
The mindflayers of The Warped Court watched, disturbed, as their former cities and their brethren simply bubbled away to... elsewhere. Perhaps the alternative, living as minor nobles under the combined psionic and arcane might of the Archfey nobility, was not going to be all that bad after all.
Outside the Hive
The Mother 'smiled' softly. "Right.." she agreed, not really convinced. She had said a lot of things to the Itja-Rek, and though they were all true... she put them in a way that was quite out of context, and had left out the good things he had done despite all the frustrating things he had also done. She couldn't help but feel bad for loosing her temper despite the fact she most likely had every right to.
"Oh?" she asked. She had thought their Children would simply live in the Hive, but now that the Sonnet mentioned it, there was a lot of this land that needed to be filled with Children... and the Hive was already struggling to balance available food with resident Children. "Well then, let us bring these eggs here and hatch our Children into the world," she replied, focusing on that happy thought.
~The Triskelion~
A morning fog seemed to hang around the meeting place of the Warped Court. Perhaps in happier times it wouldn’t have been noticed, but with the recent disappearance of the mindflayer nation the calm of the land was strained. Ill doings were about, and omens were seen in the movement of birds, the turn of a trowel, or the flavor of the crops. This unnatural fog was seen as such. There were rumors that the same fate that had befallen the rest of their kin now loomed over the tentacled members of the Warped Court.
If mortals had eyes to see they would have beheld a demigod watching the activities of these mindflayers, attempting to decide if his pronouncement against their kind extended even to these. Certainly it would have been easier if they had never joined with these oddly thinly formed humanoids.
"We should have found them yesterday" Medes said to his partner's back as A'nenat touched the disturbed ground where two children had sat roughly a day prior. "I told you that we should have kept hunting through the night."
The older Tracker looked back at his companion as he rocked back onto his ankles.
"And I told you that ever since my last Severance, I cannot see as well in the night as I used to, and since we are relying on my eyes to help us track..." A'nenat trailed off as Medes raised a hand, turning his head one way and the other.
"Did you hear something?" A'nenat whispered. Medes nodded, and turned slowly to look at a particular clump of grass.
With a roar, the grass burst apart as a Manta Beast lept out of tall grass and ran towards them, clearly intending to put both Trackers squarely in its belly.
Medes dived out of the way as the beast rushed by, and A'nenat quickly reached for the spear he had left on the ground. The Manta beast turned, hood flapping as it spun, and charged once more.
Twin spears struck out, and the beast died, impaled twice over. The Bahenet cleaned their spearheads in the grass and began walking south, following the faint tracks.
A small tremor shook the ground, and within seconds, the small patch of grassland is trampled and torched by creatures of rock and fire. They ran fast towards the end of the Triskelion. Several of these creatures held flaming rocks in their hands and they hurled it towards the trees. A few rocks were misfired and headed toward the center.
One of the beasts gave a loud warcry that resounded through the forests.
An alarum was sounded, and the villagers of the Soulshard nation readied themselves within minutes. Stormbirds and Thunderhawks flew over the settlement and toward the onslaught of fire and chaos.
The first of the beasts crashed through the trees, torching them into ash and throwing some like spears toward the settlement. As such, their enormous strength threw a couple out toward the center of the Triskelion. Catastrophic mayhem worked its way toward the settlement, and it was only a matter of time before the beasts reached the edge of the settlement.
One of the Thunderhawks discharged a huge torrent of lightning at one of the beasts. It was a direct hit, and the beast blew apart and covered the surrounding area with molten hot rock. A few stormbirds came down and struck at the beasts. Their claws only grazed their surfaces, and the beasts punched some out from the air and were trampled upon. A beast grabbed an air elemental and crushed the wind out of it-- literally. Another heavy discharge and another beast blew apart. Apparently, they were weak against the Thunderhawk's powerful discharge. The heavk claps of lightning resounded through the forest.
They reached the town of the stone men at daybreak, just as the sounds of early morning activity crept over the sleepy scene. The Twins watched as dawn's first rays filtered down from between the breaking clouds and touched the roofs of the little houses. Neither could sleep all day, so enraptured were they with the odd workings of the strange men. They marveled at how so very different they were from the Bahenet, not only in appearance, but in customs, manner of speaking, everything. They hid over the crest of a hill and watched all day, and when night fell once more, they stole into the town.
Emboldened by the darkness and the days spent alone, the Twins marched boldly down the main street, Nedjiba's eyes scanning the buildings for anything that may hold food. Nefrew, on the other hand, simply reveled in the oddness of the place. She spun around, drinking it all in, the sights, the smells.
"Oh Jiba, this is amazing!" cried Nefrew, "Just look at their funny houses!"
Nedjiba smiled, but it was a slightly uneasy smile. Something seemed odd to him too, but it was not the same things as his sister.
"Quiet Nef, you don't want to wake anyone," began Nedjiba softly, his mouth twisting into a smile despite himself.
"Oh, no one's going to wake-" she stopped her spinning abruptly when she spotted it. A stone man standing just down road, standing, and staring at them, "Up."
"RUN!" screamed Nedjiba, no longer his soft-spoken self. He grabbed Nefrew by the arm and ran off, never looking back. He was far outside the city limits before he stopped. And they collapsed there, huffing and puffing. And Nedjiba vowed never again to bring his sister to the town of the stone men ever again. Not for as long as he lived.
Sorry anubis, I want to finish the wiki article before hatching them. Though I can say that the location Sonnet spotted are the same sea-borne mesas that the Mazunti seem so fond of. A little healthy competition, yes? :P
The Queen sprang up from her spot at the base of the tree and marched over to the fallen egg, examining it closely. She cast a quick glance back at the tree before looking back at the egg.
"Fascinating," she murmured.
Then she knocked on the top of the egg, not making much noise do to the malleability of the shell. Nonetheless, she gave a little "Hellooo-ooo?" before plopping down beside the egg and examining it. She wondered. Was this yet another god? Birthed just as Caltabactos had been? She supposed only time would tell. So she waited.
~~~
South-East of Baheshep
The Twins were far from stone-man country now, traveling now in an easterly direction. There was a firmness in their step now, one that spoke of determination and resolve. They would find food, and soon. It was only a matter of walking until they did. They hoped stories of non-Severers to the far East were more than merely myths. Nedjiba hoped he could find a place to be free there. Nefrew merely hoped to find some food to fill her aching belly. They were running very low on food indeed, and both silently wondered if they would even make it to the next town. Neither voiced these fears to the other however. Neither wanted to scare the other.
Confident now that they had shaken off their pursuers, the Twins had begun to travel by day. They hoped this would make it easier for them to spot distant villages. The downside to this was the god-awful heat that beat down on them from above, scorching their necks and making the ground hot beneath their bare feet, which were now blistered and bleeding from walking such vast distances over rocks and sand and other terrain. Still, neither complained, not wanting to upset the other.
They wore loose garb though, which was helpful. Very thin, billowing garments that hung away from the body but still provided protection from the harmful sun, just as their mother had always taught them. Here was the place where Nefrew excelled above her brother. Using materials scrounged from the town before they had left, she had managed to rig up some simple but sturdy clothing on the nights she could not sleep. She had even managed to construct rudimentary bed rolls for them to sleep in. The only thing she couldn't do was fashion food, a commodity they were running very low on.
But they were in luck. Not long after they had run their rations completely dry, they reached the ocean. At first, Nefrew had almost cried at what she saw as an insurmountable obstacle. In fact, she had simply stood and gaped at the sheer enormity of it, having never seen it before in all her life. But Nedjiba, always the practical one, saw the uses it could be put to. They spent two whole days by that cove, Nefrew constructing a simple harpoon from some materials in a nearby copse of trees, and Nedjiba using it to catch the dancing fish beneath the waves, much as he had always watched his father do. And, just as the Elders had predicted, the boy was a natural with the weapon. Eventually they had amassed quite a few of the fish, and had somewhat of a feast, with Nefrew surprising the pair of them by producing a flame from some twigs. With the fish cooked as well as can be expected given the conditions, the Twins had somewhat of a feast, but they knew if couldn't last. By the end of the second day, storm clouds began rolling in, and they knew they must depart.
And so, packing up what they could, they set off, following the waterline north, returning to it occasionally to catch more fish. The few days spent so close to the water were perhaps their best so far. They had a regular supply of food from the fish and the weather was far cooler so close to the water. Additionally, as they climbed further north, the occasional stand of trees became more and more common, offering the added benefit of berries, which Nefrew used to sweeten the taste of the fish.As they reached the apex of the great bay they were following, they knew the good times must soon end, and after about a week of sticking close to the water, they decided to strike out for open land for a time, and see what it brought them. So they caught as many fish as they thought was safe, and headed inland.
Not three days of open land travel had passed before they reached the tree line, and the border of the great Valley. And, hoping for the same fortune the waters had bestowed, but preparing for the worst, the Twins headed into the deep forest.
The largest of the beasts stepped forth and spoke with a booming voice that could split wood. "WE ARE FIRE LORDS, AND WE DEMAND TO SPEAK WITH LEADER OF WIND TRIBE!" The beasts stomped its foot on the ground, creating a small bout of fire around it, and shaped some of the ground below it into a sort of crudely crafted sword, which held together pretty well.
The chieftains walked out of the front gate with a group of guards and warriors surrounding them-- weapons at the ready. The elemental chieftain spoke. "What do you want from us, creature of Fire?"
The beast laughed heartily, which shook the trees around it. "WHAT DO WE WANT FROM YOU? WHAT DO WE WANT FROM YOU! ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!" The beast laughed once again.
The two chieftains looked at each other, then back at the beast.
"WE ARE NO FIRE CREATURES-- WE ARE FIRE LORDS! FORGED FROM FIRE-- TOP OF MOUNTAIN! MOUNTAINS THAT GO 'BOOM!'"
"Mountains that go 'boom?'" The eladrin chieftain hung a look of perplexion over his face.
"He means volcanoes." The other spoke. "Apparently, they are still children, for they behave like children. Their illiterate ways tell them off from mature beasts and maturing beasts. They still have much to learn." The elemental chieftain chuckled. "Perhaps we should teach them the ways of the mature world."
~Above the Western Mountains of Korias~
Grazing the bottoms of the clouds, a group of elementals riding Stormbirds reach a site built into the mountainside. It seemed as though that whatever was here was now gone, for the site was in shambles. Stones were crumbled everywhere.
It took a little to notice movement not too far from the site-- a group of beings moving away. Perhaps it was not too long ago. The elementals decided to see to this group.
The stormbirds landed on the trail not too far from the travelling group. The elementals explored on foot and were right behind the strange creatures-- reptilian in appearance, though large and muscular. They had strange auras of power raging around them, from icy cold to roiling heat.
While not that which had made the fog, soon the Lord and Lynne saw a shape move in the grey and a shuffling noise sound from within the darkness.
"You... are different." The Reaper said as it slithered our from the darkness, carrying its basket underneath one arm. "I... do not sense your... sweet death... about you."
The Reaper's sagging face contorted into a grin, revealing blackened yet still functional teeth.
"We are merely... observing." The Naga said, slithering closer to Lord Star and staring intently at him with her bloodshot eyes.
"We..." Her eyes never left the Lord as she slithered closely around him, tail momentarially encircling the Fey as her free hand traced a finger along his shoulder-blades. "We... have a... contract. Isn't that right?"
The Reaper glanced back into the mists as her path led her towards the Lynne. Absentmindedly, she opened her basket and pulled out a screaming soul of a mindflayer. Opening her mouth, unhinging it really in the manner that all snake-bred could do, she popped the soul into her mouth, swallowing it whole.
A shudder ran though the Naga and her eyes gained a bit more clarity as she replaced the basket and turned to face the Lynne Moon.
"So. What are you?" She asked.
Somewhere south of the abandoned dragonborn settlement~
Some time has passed for the remaining dragonborn. The travel has not been easy for the beleguered people, yet they press on. Food and supplies are rationed every day to make sure there is enough. They hunt when they are able, but nevertheless they continue on. Times are tough, and Pollux has grown to be a respectable leader. Carrying his now favored weapon, he added a wicked looking falchion to his set of arms as well. Defending his people, breaking up disputes, and encouraging them on all the while wondering himself if they'll make it in time. After a time they see a break in the tree line, before venturing out though, they make camp. Hopefully where they go, things will be easier. Storms brew on the horizon. Then again.......
~The Triskelion~
Two points of mad light appeared in the morning mist, unseen by mortals, but looking towards the two divine beings that had approached it together. He considered their words for a moment, and weighed in his mind the passing similarities they bore to the spindly fleshy things, Eladrin as they called themselves. Yet before he spoke the snake-woman appeared and traded words with them.
From the mists the humanoid form of Despair floated forth, no less his true self than the fog but perhaps one that these new ones would recognize more easily. "I believe they're demigods," he said to the snake-woman. "The stench of divinity hangs around them, though not so strongly as one would expect from a god."
The Lord of the Tide felt an echo of disgust that he, too, was like them, but he didn't betray his feelings in action or word. He sniffed the air and gave an addendum to his previous statement, "though even that is weak. Perhaps they're just mortals who have been touched by the gods?"
"Regardless," he continued, turning his attention away from the lithe form of the snake-woman and to the awkward fleshy forms of the two others, "I am here because they are here."
One of his four arms motioned towards a mindflayer. He offered no other explanation, as in his estimation to tell them even that much was a great gift. He was not an information booth, he did not often given answers.
A day of forest-land hiking, and the Twins still had not reached the deep forest. Their passage was still light and rather easy for the trees were relatively young and space apart, leaving room for light to filter down from above and illuminate their way. Their lack of shoes was even more of a problem in the forest terrain, they were always cutting their feet on the fallen branches and protruding rocks. Nedjiba's attention was focused on navigating through the trees, while Nefrew was free to drink it all in. Just as she had never seen the ocean until a little over a week ago, so too had she never seen a forest of this magnitude before. But where the sea was awe-inspiring, the forest was merely disturbing. She felt dwarfed by the immense trees, and could not shake the feeling they were being followed. She tried to voice this to Nedjiba, but he merely told her she was being silly and to breathe. But Nefrew could not shake the feeling so easily.
An hour or so before they would usually set up camp, Nefrew fears were realized when they learned they were not alone in the forest. Nedjiba spotted a set of footprints that were definitely humanoid, but some sort of giant humanoid, for their footprints were quite huge. His keen eyes also noted another set of footprints, much smaller and more lightly pressed, smaller even than the Twins' children feet. The Twins were disturbed by these clues, but kept going. But then they received incontrovertible proof that they were not alone.
Nefrew spotted them first, the lizard-men moving through the trees, because she was looking everywhere, so nervous had she become. There must have been ten, fifteen of the lizard men. It was hard to tell because of the trees and because they were moving so fast. If the Twins thought the stone-men were different, it was nothing compared to these. But it was the lead one that really caught their attention. Tall, scarred and imposing, he, or at least they thought it was a he, they couldn't really tell, was carrying a huge stick-like weapon with a blade affixed to the end, and a large blade hung from his waist. Eventually Nedjiba began to wonder how to approach them without setting them off. But before he could decide, Nefrew, who was tired of meandering through the countryside, hiding from everyone but her brother, stepped out onto the path.
"My name is Nefrew, and this is my brother Nedjiba," she announced boldly, "And we need your help."
Nefrew ate greedily of the proffered food, but Nedjiba was far more hesitant, holding back and watching the strange lizard men wearily. He did not trust strangers especially ones so heavily armed. So he stood apart, and only ate when Nefrew, seeing her brother not eating, forced him to sample some, which he took grudgingly and only because it was Nefrew. She always knew how to break him out of his shell. Still, he ate slowly and with his eyes on their hosts, watching for any signs of deception. Nefrew meanwhile, chattered away at them.
"Well no, no guardians, not at the moment," she said brightly between mouthfuls, "We're on a journey see, my brother and me, and well, it's very kind of you to be giving us food, we haven't had a lot you see, out in the wild."
"Who are you?" interrupted Nedjiba, his soft voice still carrying despite the noise his sister was making. He felt it was a very important question to ask, so much that he broke his general rule of silence to ask it, "You seem to be travelers? Where are you going? Where did you come from?"
Nefrew looked nervous. Her brother always knew just how to offset people, and she hoped this time he wouldn't ruin everything, "Oh Jiba, be kind, they are giving us food after all."
"errr....What?"
"The illithids?" Lynne Moon crossed her arms and scowled. "I can't say I approve of Imbrel's choice to induct them into his court, but it is his decision."
The Mindflayer indicated by Despair was currently cleaning one of the grand windows of one of the Warped Court's Noble's manor. It stopped working for a while, its tentacled face inscrutable. A passing Archfey walked by, and though there was no visual conflict, the Mindflayer responded as if slapped, and resumed its cleaning efforts.
The Archfey passed by unopposed, vanishing from the window. "At any rate" conceded Lynne Moon. "My children know how to handle them."
Lord Star spent a long time staring at the Reaper. "I do not like you." He proclaimed, eventually. "You are not welcome here."
Panic. Chaos. One of the Fire Elementals had travelled along the top of the mountains and found the group of air elementals and drove them into a chase. The Fire Lord rolled itself into a rocky ball and careened itself down the slope. The elementals frantically sprinted down the mountain and towards the forest below. The chase continued, as the ball of rock smashed through the trees, leaving a trail of destruction behind it. It still rolled after the elementals. The first sing of footprints were seen, and then more came into view. A loud crack came from behind, followed by a loud thump of a large tree being felled by the ball of rock that was a Fire Lord.
One of the elementals stopped and gathered his energies. He released it as a powerful torrent of air that held the beast in place, while pushing some of the fallen trees back. His energy ran out and the air current faded, which forced the creature forward once again. The elemental dove out of its way. He sent up a trail of cloudy air that burst with a loud crack in the air, followed by a thick, dark cloud.
"Come then." The Lord of Seasons took to the air, hundreds of Kyrion eggs whirling behind him, borne aloft by zephyrs of his own creation.
Eventually, the eggs were dropped off at their destination -- the jutting mesas erupting from the Sea of Eden. Sonnet located a particularly barren expanse, and watched the eggs begin to hatch.
"We were more successful than I could have imagined" commented Sonnet, rubbing The Mother's carapace fondly.
A thin laugh escaped from the Naga's mouth.
"Dearest" she said, "Do you... really think you... could make us... leave?"
Her mottled scales glimmered faintly as she came back towards Despair, looping around the exarch and stopping behind him, draping her free arm and hand over the exarch's neck and drumming her fingers against his chest.
"We... are part of the world... unstoppable, unceasing, relentless. For now... we observe. Are we causing... harm?"
The exarch's tail swished back and forth as her eyes locked onto Lord Star's with a clarity heretofore unseen and her voice rang out clear as a bell.
"You would not want us to cause harm."
~Eidolon Village~
"Wait. There are voices ahead" Medes said suddenly. His parter immediately froze, trusting Medes' sharp ears. After a few minutes, the Bahenet said: "I think its a village. Come on."
A'nenat breathed a sigh of relief and followed Medes as the man picked his way through the underbrush and eventually onto a path worn into the landscape by countless wagons.
Cautiously, they approached the village, A'nenat keeping an eye on the road. Eventually, he stopped.
"Damn it. Its too crowded and dusty. I've lost them." He said, staring down at the road and trying to discern the footprints of two small children among all the rest.
"Well, I think they've noticed us, so... perhaps they can help." Medes said, pointing to the village where the first Eidolon could be seen approaching them.
Lord Star stumbled back, as if the Reaper had physically struck him. "Dearest!" he shrieked, darting a nervous glance to Lynne Moon.
"It's not a matter of me wanting you to leave. It's a matter of you leaving." the Lord of Spring Stars looked nervously around, and then leaned in, conspiratorially.
"You see, it turns out that no one really likes you, and everything would be better off if you just left, and never came back."
Lord Star crossed his arms and looked down his nose at the Reaper. "Besides. You're creepy and squirmy, and you just ate something that I'm very sure should not, under any circumstance be eaten. I would say, that, yes, you are causing harm."
Suddenly, Lord Star tensed, whipping his head around into the surrounding forests. "You speak of we. But I do not see a we. Are there more of you? If there were, I'd have to readjust my opinion of you. I can crush a you. I don't think I can crush a we."
Outside the Hive Mesa on the Sea of Eden
Oh wow, these insects were... different. Different to the ones she made in any case. But in a good way! Their social structure was so... the Sonnet was a genius, there was no other way to describe it. To have all this variety between one race without cloistering them from each other like she had the Broodlords... it was amazing.
And then there were their appearance... many of them looked more like the Queen than they did the Mother. And yet, they still maintained something... insectoid. Kept true to who they were. It was enough to make the Mother hope maybe she could find a form similar to theirs... but she still couldn't see what exactly made them 'beautiful' to other humanoids. And since their relation to each other seemed to be primarily caste and pheromone based, she would learn little of that simply watching them...
"Indeed we were, the Sonnet," the Mother replied, looking out fondly at their new Children, leaning down and giving him an affection rub with her head segment. Humanoids seemed to do this thing called 'hugging', but... she couldn't do that in this form. Another reason to find out just what humanoids found beautiful, and take a form fitting it. Huh... it seemed she'd gone from merely bemoaning her situation to actually making a resolve to do something about it. The Sonnet had given her resolve and strength as well as Children and pleasure it seemed.
Speaking of pleasure, or lack there of... a claw bird fluttered in front of the Mother, causing her to sigh. "Ah, I recognize this bird..." the Mother noted. "It belongs to the Aaviz... and he usually sends it out when he wants to speak to me. Hm... the Aaviz... I seem to recall having something to talk to about with him, but for the life of me I can't..." An image of the Ithillid Child formed Itja-Rek wailing that the Aaviz had been mean to him and hurt him flashed through her mind. "Oh. Yes," she remembered icily. "That was it."
Turning to the Sonnet, the Mother... looked at him a little helplessly for a moment, before giving him another affectionate nudge. Damn this form... "I am sorry the Sonnet, but I am afraid I must depart," the Mother said sadly... how odd she should be so torn to leave his side. "Knowing the Aaviz, if left long enough to his own devices our Children will grow elephant trunks as he exerts power in his boredom."
Absalom was so pleased when he felt the divine energy of his Big Sister leap from her form across the land towards his valley that he could have kissed her! In fact, he probably would have reached out and planted an affectionate kiss on her forehead had not right that instant one of the eggs from the tree fallen and bounced towards the deities.
Staring at it with a puzzled expression and remembering the hand that had emerged last time this occurred, he was not at all surprised when a fog of black smoke leaked from the shell and spoke.
“Hello,” said the God of beauty bluntly as he took in the form of the newborn deity before him. “Who would you be?”
The Naga once known as Susan cocked her head to the side.
"Do you not see... my friend here, Dearest?" She said softly, relishing the look that flashed across the Fey Lord's face. "He is very... visible."
"You may say that I am unloved and unliked, but I know that isn't true. I have my friend here, and I have my God." The Reaper's eyes glowed a soft blue as she spoke. "He is my master and teacher, and he rewards my good service with abundance. And he has spoken clearly that I am to to go every land, every nation and do his bidding."
The glow faded, receding along the bloodshot furrows in her eyes and dissapearing behind them. The Naga sagged slightly as the power she desired most ebbed. Letting go of Despair, she reached into the basket for another soul, holding it in one hand while she set the rest down, curling her tail around the basket.
Holding the soul in one hand, she reached towards it and with a popping sound, ripped one of the mindflayer's arms off, popping it into her mouth.
"And how... should I... feel... about that? Perhaps I shall say that... you are... creepy and... tall. Would you like that?" She said while ripping her talons into one of the soul's legs, popping it off at the knee and swallowing it.
"Also... you do not... know what we... have done." Pop. The other leg vanished into the Naga's mouth. "You would not... make... threats... if you did..."
Growing tired of the soul's cries for mercy, The Reaper raised it to her mouth and bit off its head. Immediately another head appeared on the soul, screaming all the louder.
"Oh bother." She said grumpily. "You forget the head is the seat of the soul."
The rest of the mindflayer disappeared down her throat.
"We destroyed Nihilliath... did you know? You may... leave now." She said, grinning viciously at Lord Star.
The elementals come across a river in the forest and jump over it. They land with a soft pillow of air below themselves. "Phew! That thing won't like the waters! Let's follow the river down a ways and see where it ends!" The others agreed and set off down the river, hiding amongst the trees and bushes to avoid being seen by the ball of rock.
~Up in the air~
Above the forest valley below, the group of elementals tried to get a bird's eye view of the situation below. It was madness-- something big had carved a line through the trees. Fallen trunks were everywhere in this line, and the only signs of life was the movement of trees ahead. Something big was continuing its trek towards the open valley ahead. It then took a hard right at the edge of what was soon to be a river.
The elementals commandeered the stormbirds and dove down towards the river and followed it down, passing the rolling ball of rock that caused the calamity in the forest.
~The Valley~
Running for a fairly long time, the elementals eventually reached the end of the forest and were out in an open valley. The river zig-zagged across the valley floor, and large clumps of bushes dominated the landscapes. Trees were far and few between, so it was up to them to find shelter to evade panic. What they didn't realize was that the ball of rock was hot on their trail on the other side of the trail. They heard the crack of trees from behind and saw the rolling ball of rock on the other side.
To their joy, they saw the group of stormbirds flying just above the surface of the waters. The elementals waved frantically to get the other's attention.
The strombird group flew up and then alongside the others. They immediately jumped on the stormbirds and started to fly fast. Loud rumbling could be heard from the rushing wind. One of them looked back to see the ball of rock chaotically rolling right behind them. "HOLY ****!!!" IT was a near mis, as the stormbirds glided upwards, watching as the rolling rock swept in front of them. The rock opened itself and skidded across the grassy plain. The creature was in such anger, and bellowed a mighty roar that echoed across the valley.
The elementals laughed and cheered amongst each other. The stormbirds coasted along the air and above the sea. They could see a lot of the land, including a mountain range in frnt of them. There was a strange rocky pillar that portruded from a valley below on the other side of the sea. "What is that?"
They decided to go look at this new land.
The god was spinning in circles, taking up the entire vista as he turned in spheres.
"I was just going to try to find out what had made Concordia, after it attacked the poor Leviathan, but then I blacked out here and......I'm Karak, by the way. One of the Culthet Elders, although if I fell between universes, that might not mean anything to you. What is this place?"
The god's form briefly shifted. "Then go." Syreene's voice. "I have no other plans, and it would be foolish to keep you to myself forever more. You will be able to find me if you need it." Syreene smiled (a facial function that she was sure irked The Mother to no end due to the insect god's inability to duplicate it), cringed as a parenthetical thought occured to her, then carefully smoothed her face as she realized cringing was no better.
"I shall see to it that these children prosper. Seek me out again when you feel the need to talk, question , or...meld." The last word was merely whispered, Syreene shuddering with remembered pleasure.
~Triskelion, The Exarch's Grove~
Lord Star arched an imperious eyebrow. "I know what this fog has done. It was very big, and very impressive. I have no quarrel with him. You on the otherhand, remain yet unwelcome. You are no primordial manifestation. You stink of mortality. And I say again: You. Are. Not. Welcome."
Lord Star began to pace, back and forth across the grove. "You know what your problems are? You're an addict and a bully." He jabbed an elegant finger at the Reaper. "You are so enthralled in the glory of your lord, that you discount the edicts of any other. Did it occur to you that my lord may have given me a contradictory edict (though perhaps in not so many words). You are so addicted to the very thought of your god that your eyes glow." He paused, glaring. "That is not normal."
"So too are you a bully. You do not darken the sky or quake the earth like this one here, you merely appear unsolicited in his wake, causing chaos and mischief, taking advantage of the fact that the illithids are already run ragged by his ceaseless doctrine. You strike me as one who would never act so decisively on your own, yet too much of an opportunist not to act on it."
"So I say finally once again: you are not welcome. We know what he has done, for we have watched him do so. We have watched you too, from our home in these woods, and have found you a pathetic, slinking creature. You did not destroy the Nihilanth, no matter how you delude yourself. I say again: get ye hence, for you are not, and never shall be welcome, in these woods."
Sometime during the speech, a tangle of Battlebriars had drawn close, and were even then slowly pacing the clearing, giving the solid fog a wide berth, but eying the Reaper with their plant-y eyes.
"Silence," Despair said simply to the fey beings. "Do all fleshy gods prattle on so? If you want her to leave, make her leave." The fog eyed their forms casually. His tone indicated that he found the concept amusing.
"These children," he commented, mostly to himself, "choose poorly when then take my prey into their home. Hopefully poor judgment is not a familial weakness."
Sheba did not know what Schi'vya had done, but she knew that now was the time to strike. In an act that was both brutal and merciful, she drove her dagger deep in to Maximillion's belly. Know that the wound was not fatal she flung he former lover and husband out far from the this place that had become her home.
He flew from the forge and hurtled past Itja-Rek with blinding speed. Though she was not capable of this act, the rage that Umbart should have felt drove her arm for she was of him. Bouncing and tumbling through the Caverns of Davos he finally ricocheted out of the Godspire entirely. His flight was long and he tumbled through the air for an indeterminate time before the ground began to grow up beneath him.
Divinity attracts divinity, Maximillion's flight brought him hurtling towards the small collection exarchs near the Triskelion. His body burned bright with the friction of the air as he approached his first meeting with the outside world. Maximillion had remained awake and aware through out this whole ordeal, for he possessed a heart meant for a god. Screaming in agony, he fell until finally hit the ground only a few hundred feet form the other exarchs. The fireball was intense and the exarch was granted release from consciousness and even managed to remain alive.
Back in the Caverns of Davos, Sheba knew of he masters illness and her blood, Umbarts blood knew where to reach. She ran quickly forth and to fetch her master's aid, but stopped when she realize that her children where in disarray. Finding the Isamu, the late chief's son, she breathed confidence and power into him.
You are now Takeshi Isamu. Unite your people under you and become the first Shogun for them.
Here new nation began to take shape as she left to find Itja-Rek. She knew that Hibbiki, would be nation of honor and war by the time she returned. With the blood guidance she quickly found what she sought. Upon finding Itja-Rek she bow low and spoke with a voice filled with confindence.
Follower of Umbart, my master needs you. You will follow me. Master's blood tells me this is true.
Something about the she stood told Itja-Rek that she was conflicted. Her first duty was Umbart and this HAD to be done, yet she feared to disrespect to one of greater station. She hoped force that the import of the message had compelled to use with this god would not cause him to strike her down. She had no doubt that he would follow the command. When Umbart spoke one who had swore would obey.
2/9 PP
-2 PP (1 from Sheba) Found nation: Hibbiki is founded in the forge of the gods.
OOC: I know little of the Japanese language and the names I have chose for things were just pleasant to ear. If I have made mistakes remember this is not Japan but a fictional analog filled with orcs.
The Reaper hissed and leapt forward, grabbing Lord Star's outstretched arm and dragging the startled exarch forward a few steps, pressing him against the naga's body as her tail coiled around one leg. She leaned in to whisper to the fey lord.
"A bully? Perhaps. I do not darken the sky or quake the earth, but that does not make me any less powerful or deadly, Dearest. I have been blessed by my God, felt his personal touch." the Naga's forked tongue flicked against the Lord's ear as she whispered. "Have you had such a boon given to you? I find that hard to imagine. Perhaps you will come with me when this is all done and taste his power."
A shove sent the Fey Lord back as the Naga gave the Lynne a long look before winking and slithering back towards Despair.
"He moved them. I killed them, broke into their homes and destroyed their wills, changed the essence of their people, their customs and ways. I may need to do the same here, if we decide it to be necessary. We, dearest, we. We're a team, right friend?"
The arm was back to draping around Despair's neck.
"And call off those mortals... don't insult me."
At that moment, a fireball struck the earth nearby. The Reaper neatly reversed herself and stared off in the direction of the fireball, moving over and pulling the man forward, not really caring that his limp body wasn't helping the process.
"We have... a visitor." She said, eying the man, who was clearly close to death. Susan's eyes began to faintly glow once more with the anticipation of claiming yet another soul as she went over to the man and picked him up.
I knew I had forgotten to do something. Thanks for reminding me.
1 PP (from Reaper): guide Populace: Nihiliath no longer cremates or buries their dead. Instead, they create catacombs in the dark passages beneath the earth and inter their dead there.
"Oy!" Lynne Moon snapped her fingers at the fog. "Pay attention to me, not my scatter-tongued, scatter-brained husband."
"The few mind flayers who remain are no longer your prey. For good or for ill, they have been given sanctuary in the Warped Court. So unless you mark the Warped Court itself as your prey, there is nothing left for you here. And if you do, we have a problem."
"Aha! I see you are silent!" taunted Lord Star at the Reaper. "Good. Be silent. I am not afraid to drive you off if it comes to it! I dare you! I dare you to make something of it." The Lord of Spring Stars punched the space in front of the Reaper a few times, an impressive display of airboxing. "I dare you." The fact that the once-naga had responded to him, indeed, had even knocked him about, had somehow failed to register in his mind completely, as if he thought he had only imagined that happening.
Only Despair caught the brief rolling of Lynne Moon's eyes.
"I will follow." Itja-Rek said simply.
~The Sixth Cavern~
The Naga had settled into the Sixth Cavern, finding the Death Titans to be fine, if unsettling, neighbors. They had returned to the old ways here in the darkness, forgotten by their creators. And among their traditions was one whispered about in less-than-polite circles, a practice which alternately horrified and facinated the other peoples of the world.
You see, the Naga were cannibals, but cannibals in only a very narrow sense in the word. When a Naga died, if it was at all possible the body would be brought home and cleaned and washed by the family, at which point it was passed off to a special cadre of Naga whose sole job was the processing of the body, transforming the Naga into a pile of bones and a pile of fleshy steaks which were returned to the family. This was done for the family so that they would not be forced to destroy their own flesh and blood's image, as well as to ensure consistancy and adherence to ritual traditions.
It was then time to cook the flesh of the deceased. As it was often tough, the prefered method was a slow braise, which softened the connective tissues and allowed the rich fat reserves, seasoned throughout life by an assortment of meals to melt and spread throughout the meat.
A gathering would be thrown the next day as the meat neared preparation. In a great feast, the friends and family of the deceased would gather in a suitable spot and split the deceased's body among themselves. For very popular individuals, such as leaders of the community or heroes, this might mean that each naga would only get a single bite of the decedent. Usually, however, it was a smaller affair, and each Naga would eat its fill. The skull would be saved and placed in a special place in the house, and often close friends or family members would keep a smaller bone for themselves, a fingerbone or one of the lesser vertebra. The rest would be thrown into the dark lake.
One night, long after everyone had left, the son of a recently deceased naga sculptor curled around his wife as they slept. Eating his father had been a difficult task, but he felt invigorated, knowing that his father lived on within him in a true and real fashion. His friend's father had died a year ago, and the peace that had followed the ceremony of Tranferrance had been profound.
It didn't help that he had a stomachache, though. His father, apparently, did not agree with his stomach. Fitfully, he struggled to sleep, finally surrendering to the night after many hours.
The next morning, friends who had not been able to make it to the ceremony visited the Naga to offer their well-wishes, but found the house covered in blood yet completely empty. As they explored the house, they finally opened the door to the Naga's daughter's room, and screamed as the family leapt out at them, dragging them inside and biting at them, quickly ending their lives before settling down to feed on the corpses.
~Triskelion~
The Reaper, sensing the waning power within the man she held, decided to do him a favor and end his suffering. Balancing the man with one hand, she reached towards the man's chest. Skin and Sinew gave way with ease as she delved into the man, pushing aside muscle with soft squelching noises, seaching for the soul, which would be located at the heart. Finally, the last layer slid aside and the Reaper grabbed hold of the man's heart, holding the organ softly for a moment, feeling the limp heartbeat as it slowly faded and the soul began to pull away. She flexed her arm, squeezing the heart...
And stopped as a presence within the being's soul reacted, pushing her arm out of the body and begining to repair it.
Confused, the Naga dropped the exarch, pushing it away from herself. What was happening?
3 PP: Spawn Beasts. Ghouls now stalk the world.
1/9 +1/2 (genesis) PP remaining.
~Within the Godspire~
It was truly a sight to behold, and it was for the orc's good. She could not resist laughing what had happened, so she let out a silenced giggle. The she-orc threw the other he-orc straight out of the cavern and out into the open skies.
The blade disappeared and she could feel its energy within her like a star.
~Across the sea~
The group of elementals glided down towards the rocky spire which portruded from the valley floor below. It was unusual, since it was located in a place they would not expect to find such structure. Still, it was only custom to see new land and to determine demographics and what life brings in such places of mystery.
As the group landed, they noticed a light breeze. Dust was kicked up from a nearby sand bar, and the area up ahead seemed deserted. The group looked around to try and see if there was any sign of movement. No luck. Nothing but grassland, trees and rocks. They sought to spend time here, but they figured that the ball of rock would return. So they took to the skies once again-- this time, they headed north towards the mountains. "I've got this strange feeling about those mountains over there. Seems like we shouldn't trust them..."
They spotted a particular patch of grassland not too far from where they had previously been, but far enough to make a footlong voyage a long one.
The stormbirds coasted gently through the air and onto the grassland. It was quiet around thie patch of land.
Chuckling a bit at the torrent of questions, Pollox obliged. "These are my people. We are the last of our kind. My name is Pollox, and I lead this tribe south to hopefully fairer lands. We came from a valley far to the north of us, but it was very hostile to my people. Many were taken and enslaved by evil creatures known as mindflayers. It is how I came to have gotten this scar." With this he points to his scar where he was marked.
"Sit, relax while you can. I noticed you are wary of our weapons, young one yet your sister seems to be just happy. Don't worry though, we use them to protect ourselves from a hostile world. Maybe one day, when you are stronger, I'll teach you how to use some of our weapons." They talked and chatted back and forth, until both sides relaxed.
As day wore on, and turned to evening, a sentry came up to Pollux and whispered in his ear. "Are you sure?" The sentry nodded. "To Arms all! Something big approches! Defend the camp and protect the children!" Pollux grabs his mighty glaive and prepares it for battle, standing ready as close to the twins as he can without getting them into trouble or them getting in the way. "Boy! Do you know how to use one of these?" Shows the brother a spare short sword. "If so stand and be ready! Do not fear for the mighty Astriluxus watches us and our bravery!"
High overhead a pair of dragons watches lazily as the dragonborn prepare for some sort of defense.
In an instant, the camp seemed to be filled with the vast sweaty bodies of humanoids with the size and ferocity of bull elephants. It was a veritable stampede in the camp, not a true battle. The dragonborn merely sought to keep out of the way of the stomping feet and swinging arms of the huge behemoths. The ground itself boomed beneath their feet, so great was the girth of these ogres. And amidst the chaos, little halflings scurried about, using their much larger brethren as a distraction while they raided the unattended food and supply stores.
Nedjiba, who was roughly the size of one of these halflings, swung his sword wildly at them, possessing absolutely no finesse with the weapon. What he lacked in finesse, however, he certainly made up for in sheer determination. As his sister hung back, terrified, and Pollox grappled with a particularly ferocious ogre, he advanced on a halfling, small and beedy-eyed, dirty and dressed in furs. The halfling ducked his wild swings easily and slipped beneath his guard, slicing a nick with the dagger on Nedjiba's unprotected forearm. Skittering away, laughing, the halfling pounced on Nefrew, his long filthy locks bouncing as he cackled madly.
Seeing his sister in peril like that seemed to stir something in Nedjiba, who charged, crazed with fury. His swing may have been wild and imprecise, but damn was there force behind it. The halfling leaped back, but there was true terror in his eyes now. Scurrying off, he left Nefrew to fret over Nedjiba's wound, even as the ogres pounded all around them.
"Oh, it's just a scratch," said Nedjiba, "I'm fine."
"No you are not fine! You are bleeding!" exclaimed his sister, and she tore a piece of cloth from her own garment and fashioned a reasonable tourniquet around Nedjiba's arm, "Now let's get out of here."
She grabbed her brother's uninjured arm and spun around, placing her face to face with an ugly, snarling, vicious ogre. The Twins ducked, and the thing went soaring over them, landing with bone-crushing force on Pollux, performing a neat tackle. "RUN!" screamed Nefrew, and the two pelted off, dodging and weaving between the combatants.
And then Nefrew was gone. An ogre, apparently mistaking her for his halfling charge, had swept her up and carried her off. Nedjiba spun around in time only to see her being carried away through the sea of battling bodies, her mouth open in a scream unheard over the sounds of war. Some of the ogres seemed to be retreating, carrying off halflings who had pillaged her fill, and the one that had taken Nefrew appeared to be one of them. Without knowing what he was doing, without thinking, Nedjiba had swept up a fallen sword, for he had lost his, and went screaming after Nefrew, red fury in his eyes.
It was over as quickly as it started. The ogre that had tackled Pollux got up an ran off, with pollux's glaive stuck in him. Pollux not the bit happy unceremoniously got up just in time to see Nedjima run off. Taking in a quick stock of the situation, it didn't take long to figure out the other twin was missing as well as food stores. With the lack of food as it is, they couldn't risk losing more. Calling over several others, he issued quick orders to rebuild the camp, while he and another goes after the twins.
Quickly gathering up a second sword better fitted for the young lad, him and another dragonborn quickly run off after the Nedjima. With their better size and sight even in the twilight, it didn't take long for them to catch up to Nedjima. Quickly disarming him, and holding him steady, "where is your sister? I thought she was with you?" Nedjima with anger in his eyes tries to shrug the arms off of him unsuccessfully. "Let me go! They have my sister! I have to go and save her!" Nedjima still struggling, Pollux puts his hand gently on the boys shoulder. "You have great courage young one. Do not fret. We all will go and help you find your sister. I need to get our food back as well. We dont have enough now to finish our journey without it." Pulling out a short spear and a better fitted sword, he politely asks "Now, are you going to calm down and let us plan, or do you just plan on squirming all night?" Nedjima, finally realising they are there to help not stop him, stops squirming. Pollux smiles at this and hands the boy the weapons. "You are clumsy in battle, but determined. I think these will suit you just a little better that what you were given. If you stay long enough after we find you sister, I might even teach you how to use that better. Now lets go."
Quietly moving off into the forest, it didn't take long for the small group to find where the massive creatures went to. Quietly hiding in the forest outside the ogre encampment, Pollux carefully places his hand on the boy and they slowly retreat back into the woods to plan what they are going to do.
High above~
The two dragons seeing a mess down below saw that the dragonborn where quickly out muscled. Spying the boy had run off and the cheiftan went off after shortly with one other, the gold one smiled and nodded to the silver. "I'll take this one, you get the next one?" asked the bored gold. "Sure why not? It should be fun!" replied the silver. And with that , the gold flew over quickly finding where the ogres where. Not taking too much longer, he spied the small group including the boy in the bushes not to far away before they disappeared again into the forest. "Yes, why not! Thisjust might actually be exciting!" He continued to circle over head just out of sight until the group decided to make their move. He'll drop in right about then!
Despite himself, Nedjiba could see the wisdom in Polluix's words. Personally, he just wanted to rush headlong into the Ogre camp and tear out the throats of those that had taken his sister, and he had to try very hard to control that urge. After all, he reasoned, the ogres would undoubtedly tear him apart before he got two paces. No, he would wait, prepare, and strike on the morrow. And so, against his strong impulse, Nedjiba forced his feet to carry him back to the camp, allowing himself to just get lost in the sword tips the dragonborn gave him.
By the time they had reached the camp, night was already falling, and Nedjiba thought he already had a firm grasp of the theory inherent in swordplay. The dragonborn was quite skilled in that regard, after all, and Nedjiba was a marvelous student. Despite the late hour, he insisted that Pollux take him through some sparring routines to get him used ot the physical aspect. He was determined to make a difference in the fight tomorrow, not merely watch as his sister was taken away from him.
The boy was relentless, sparring late into the night, learning in leaps and bounds. He was far from a skilled warrior, but in a few short hours, Pollux had given him a rudimentary knowledge of the blade. Enough at least that he would be able to perhaps deal with a halfling or two.
Ogre and Halfling Settlement
It didn't take the Ogre long to realize that Nefrew was most certainly not a halfling after they arrived at camp. Well, it certainly wasn't long before a halfling told him. It occurred to Nefrew that the Ogres were like the muscle, the sinew of the machine that was the tribe, while the halflings were the brains, the eyes, the ears. And they communicated all they saw though and heard to their ogre allies in some odd language Nefrew could not understand. She was nonetheless fascinated by it. She was also fascinated by the village, which was all up in the trees.
The houses themselves appeared to be great balls of twigs and forest shrubs wrapped around and stuck high up in the trees, all connected by rope bridges. The main mode of travel up to the houses seemed to be the ogres themselves, who were skilled climbers. While the halflings lived in the tree houses, the ogres were forced to sleep on the forest floor, which suited them fine. They were able to run around as they pleased, as well as easily guard their precious halfling allies.
However, Nerfrew's hosts surprised her by not eating her at once or locking her away as she'd though, but rather inspected, admired even. The villagers had obviously never seen a Bahenet before, and one young halfling wouldn't stop examining her odd nose. Having expected brute ferocity from the ogres after what she had previously witnessed during the battle, Nefrew was surprised at how gentle they could be, as they carried the halflings onto and off of their backs. Every movement between the two races seemed gentle, smooth, respectful, as though each cherished the other with a sort of profoundness that mirrored Nefrew's own relationship with her brother. She was, thusly, touched.
"You're not so bad," said Nefrew, smiling at a little halfling girl barely taller than her thigh, "You are in fact, quite adorable."
That night, a halfling family offered her room to stay in their tree house, which was the perfect size for the young girl. She was so impressed by their hospitality, she gladly accepted. But as she drifted off into sleep, she had thoughts only for Nedjiba, and how he was coping in her absence.
The Sea of Eden
The Mother did some shuddering of her own at that last remark... that truly had been pleasurable, had it not? It made her want to 'meld' again right now... but if she did it all the time, and birthed with each melding, she'd be a hormonal wreck for the rest of existence! And no good to her Children or fellow Mothers... she felt guilty leaving the So- the Syreene so soon, let alone their Children before they had even found their place in the world, but... duty called.
"Farewell the Syreene, I shall not let as much time pass between our next meeting as I did our last," she replied, sprouting wings before promptly flying off, the clay pigeon flying before her. Honestly, she was tempted to eat the thing, the Aaviz has a marvelous sense of timing! Almost as marvelous as the Itja-Reks... she wasn't even sure if she should eat the Aaviz for being mean to the child him anymore! That Itja-Rek just... oooo, what right did he have to get jealous at the mere birthing of a race together?? And even if it was more than that, why did he care when he'd never shown an ounce of anything but friendship towards her??
Although maybe that was her fault... maybe she should be more blatant with how she showed her affection. But there was only so much you could do without being able to touch, to hug, to run finger like things through hair like souls... the Mother sighed pensively. Honestly, she was a total wreck lately, she'd had so many ups and downs it was wonder she hadn't bumped her head at some point during it all...
~The Triskelion~
The concussion blast from Maximillion's fall sent tendrils of the morning fog into the faces of the fey-gods. The dark one ignored it; none of this had been why he had come in the first place. When the female fey thing snapped her fingers at his mist, Despair locked his eyes upon her's. In those eyes were the murderous lust for blood, the death-knell of those who fall in battle, the laments of a mother whose only child has been taken by disease. Those eyes were the red sky that dawned over a massacre, the fire that burned the bodies of the slain and the innocent.
"So be it," the Lord of the Changing of the Tide said.
He turned from her and floated over to the snake-woman. "Hungry?" he asked.
A wind rose up, dry and hot, and blew the fog and god away. Across the land the cloud was driven, dispersing and settling till no eyes could see it.
~Sea of Eden~
Perhaps he'd swam with his children too long, been away from the company of other gods for too long. Harkon found that he had little desire to leave the waters and seek out others; he was content to be the current, to swim with the creatures of the sea. But that familiar feel, that slight warping of the world as gods passed, caught his attention. There had been a few comings and goings at the Hive, but that wasn't his place to care about. Some of them were traveling out into the sea, however, and Harkon's interests were awoken.
Through the oceans he swam, sliding back and forth, his body propelling him as much as his will. He came to one of the sea cliffs, one that happened to be far yet from the other mazunti. It was a pleasant place, but comparatively barren to some of the more desirable ones.
His waters took to the side of the cliff, his webbed talons digging into the earth, and he pulled himself up the side of it. At the top he found a mound of eggs, Syreene, and the vision of the Mother disappearing in the distance.
"Hellooo?" he asked.
With the departure of her ally and the unexpected resistance from the man, The Reaper wasn't liking the odds.
"Well, dearest." She said, meeting the eyes of Lord Star once more. "It was so nice to meet you. My offer to you will stand, but for now it appears the fun has ended."
Long fangs glimmered in the sunlight as the rictus of a smile reappeared.
"I'm sure we'll see each other again Very soon."
And with that, the Reaper turned to leave, heading straight for the Battlebriars, which backed away as she neared them. Laughing once more, she passed through them and out of the grove.
~Bahetshep~
If the Bahenet had thought that the First One's eldership had been characterized by bull-headedness, they were rapidly discovering that it was not an isolated trait. As the first generation of Bahenet aged, there were now several members who had reached the stage of Elder, and they were a fracticious bunch. Any internal conflict between the souls of their body was gone, now replaced by the very public and very external arguments which went on between the one-souled. It was as if, after a lifetime of arguing and deal-making with the other souls within the bahenet body, the final soul was hardened and refused to accept compromise. As such, the 9-member committee of elders often seemed to act as a single Bahenet mind, and they were called the Baneshem.
This was not to say that nothing ever got done by the Baneshem. On the contrary, much of the later structure of the race was determined in that first Baneshem, such as the codifying of the Rules of Souls and Professions, which laid out clearly how many souls were the maximal number to hold a job, as well as the Edict of Preventative Severance, which set in stone the rule that all Bahenet must undergo Severance at the first sign of the Crowding.
And so when one day it was reported that there were strange people in the fields made of air and riding great birds, everyone looked to the Baneshem, who for once were in agreement. Be welcoming, but keep your weapons close to hand.
~The Twisted Hive~
He-That-Had-Once-Been-Speaker-To-Trilobites-But-Was-Now-Much-More had grown large since his meetings with Shimmering Eyes, to the point where his mass filled up several chambers of the Twisted Hive. Feeling secure in his underground home, the Bryofite mass finally budded off some children, who ventured out of the darkness of the Twisted Hive and up into the sunlight, meeting the Trilobites and Son-of-Speaker-to-Trilobites as they went. With the added manpower to gather nutrients, the mass grew larger every day, however as it did so it wondered what would happen once its once-self, The City, found them out.
~The Sea of Eden, Ker Aash~
The City had come to Ker Aash, floating in the water about two hundred feet away from the edge of the coral city. About an hour after its arrival, several Bryofita crawled out of the water and into the city proper.
"We are Bryofita. What are you?" The leader, an administrator, asked the nearest Mazunti.
Ogre and Halfling Settlement
The day dawned early the next morning, much too early for Nefrew. The sheets were warm and her bed was comfortable, and she'd been having such a nice dream. In the dream she had been, not a Bahenet, but a halfling, and lived in the tiny village up in the trees. But then dawn came, and with it the worry and tension of daytime. She felt infinitely guilty for sleeping in such nice conditions while her brother no doubt had not. The dragonborns had seemed friendly enough, but they had had little in the way of comfortable amenities.
So she rolled out of bed and, still wiping sleep from her eyes, tiptoed slowly across the rope bridge towards the tree-pod that held the eating and living areas. When she arrived, her stomach gave another twinge of guilt. She saw that the halfling family had taken out all the stops to ensure she had a nice warm meal, and she felt doubly guilty for being such an inconvenience, and that Nedjiba could not share this with her. She sat down at a small table fit for a halfling or a child like her, in front of a plate of something warm and steaming that Nefrew did not recognize, but that smelled delicious. The other halflings ate rather ravenously, and Nefrew happily did the same. This was certainly not a Bahenet household.
After breakfast, the little girl that had been so fascinated by Nefrew's nose the day previous, begged her mother to let her take Nefrew on a tour of the village. Smiling expansively, the mother halfling agreed that this would be a marvelous idea.
Dragonborn Camp
Dawn couldn't come fast enough for Nedjiba, who slept little. He spent most of the time he'd actually alotted himself to sleep going over battleplans in his mind, checking them for efficiency, stability and flexibility. As such, when he did rise the next morning, dark circles ringed his eyes, but his brain was alight with complicated manoeuvres and formulae. He wanted to go immediately, before the sun had even properly risen. He felt the adrenalin coursing even now through his veins, spurring him onwards, ready to cleave his way through to find his sister.
But, much to his disdain, the dragonborn forced him to have some breakfast out of what was left of the food stores. "You'll need your strength," they said, handing him dried oats and pieces of cured meat. He ate mechanically, as though it were merely a chore to be completed. And when he finished, he rose at once, and set to making preparations. Preparations for war. A few dragonborn were to accompany him, including the powerful Pollux, and their party would come at the Ogre camp from a northerly direction, for that is where scouting reports told them the defenses were weakest. There was a high ridge they could scale north of the settlement where they would command a bird's-eye view of it all. Nedjiba just hoped it was enough.
They set out soon after breakfast, Nedjiba spurring them on even more that their captain. They trundled through the forest, laded with armaments, attentive to any sign in the early morning stillness. And so they marched.
Ogre and Halfling Settlement
The village itself was rather quaint and lovely, and the walways through the canopy provided breathtaking views of the forest floor down below. Nefrew could see the huge ogres moving slowly about in an early morning daze down below, looking for all the world like pieces of the ground moving and shifting below them. Nefrew then cast her eyes skyward to the gradually lightening forest canopy not far above them now. She could see bits of brilliant blue sky poking around the edges of the emerald leaves and marveled at the majesty of it. And of course, the little halfling girl just chattered away about everything, telling her where various people lived, explaining the general composition of a tree house. Nefrew found it all very facinating, to say the least.
And the morning dragged on and they began to run out of places to visit, they decided to head back to the little girl's home. As they made their way back, however, an odd stillness settled over the village, a sort of undefiable tension overtaking it. They were moving slowly across a rope bridge when the alarm first sounded. An odd sort of wailing cry echoed across the village, repeated by those that heard it so that the entire settlemetn was soon howling with it. Nefrew's first instinct was to run and scream, but the little girl had her by the arm and, howling along with the rest of her tribe, the girl dragged her into the nearest dwelling, as was apparently the procedure during a state of crisis.
They stumbled into a small halfling living space and Nefrew watched as the male adult halfling she supposed was the father of the family, strapped on his war gear and, amidst cries and kisses from his family, made his way out of the home. When the rest of the family spotted Nefrew and the little girl, they started, but the little girl was sooon wrapped up in the arms of the mother, leaving Nefrew feeling awkward. Finally, one of the older children, a female, stepped forward, and Nefrew expected to see accusations in those eyes. That was, after all, how she felt personally about the whole situtation. But the girl was kind and inviting and soon they all gathered around a window to see what was happening. It did not look good.
Dragonborn Raiding Party
Nedjiba had expected some chaos, but nothing like this. He had expected for war to have at least some semblance of order, but this... this was merely madness. Halflings fell from tree-top homes to land upon the backs of his soldiers, who did their best to shake them off, but were quickly overtaken by charging Ogres. Bodies were flying, blades were flashing, and nowhere through the din could Nedjiba make out any signs of Nefrew. He hacked his way through the crowds, his ease of passage perhaps mostly due to his being mistaken for a halfling. Spotting a rope dangling, he darted for it. Leaping onto it, he swung madly about, knocking into countless bodies as he struggle to climb the rope. Soon however, he was high above the battle, which he could see spread out below him like some intricate patchwork of bodies and waving weapons.
On a stroke of inspiration and perhaps just for good measure, he hacked at the hanging ropes to prevent pursuers, and then launched himself across the rope bridge, searching desperately for his sister. He hoped dearly that he wasn't too late.
Absalom’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly at the words spoken by the shadowy deity. He knew of culthet, not so much from any actual conversation with one of its Gods but its name was interposed with the very foundations of this world’s order, as was Mishway. The God of beauty had been largely absent during those early days when the two worlds collided, and so some of the details escaped him but he had a general understanding of how the two worlds bled together.
That is not to say, however, that he wanted this one to know that. The reemergence of an elder God of Culthet was an interesting but dangerous opportunity, he did not want to place all of his cards on the table. “You are in the Mushroom forest, the domain of my Big Sister here,” with that Absalom gestured to the Queen.
“As for Culthet and Elder Gods, I frankly no not what you speak of.”
~Outerdark~
In the days of dread, before Nihilian fell beneath the surface of the world, their Dragonborn servants were struck down by divine will, and their deaths brought about the end of many Ilithids as well. But in the dragon lord’s haste, the rookeries of the slaves were forgotten, the eggs escaped divine wrath. The Mindflayers came across these and saw in them a way to strike back at those who had harmed them so. The eggs, though blotched with odd purple marks, were hatched, the younglings reared, and they were put to work as slaves like their parents before them, though without the knowledge of their elders these new ones were useless as teachers.
These dragonborn tended the fields, worked in the shops, and cleaned the homes of their masters. And, when their masters grew hungry, they served as a snack as well.
As time passed and generations came and went, the dragonborn found themselves altered, changed by that place and their masters. They discarded the name “dragonborn” as an echo of the world of light. Here they called themselves the Drahken, the dragon-forged, for their toil forged them as steel to endure a harsh world. They endured their servitude, they would endure until their own masters faded away.
3PP - Shape Populace: Drahken. These are a dragonborn derivative race that will be posted to the Wikia shortly. They replace dragonborn proper as Ilithid slaves.
1PP (from Despair) – Nourish Populace: Drahken. Despair nourishes the Drahken, partially to account for their transformation from dragonborn, and partially to increase their numbers to a reasonable slave-caste size.
1PP remaining
He reached out with a tentacle, and touched, not just air, but the fabric of the universe. He felt it, and it felt familiar. Not much, just a trace, but it was there.
"So, I didn't fall that far from home then. Maybe I can find a way back to where I should be from here."
He shifted his attention to this other god.
"So, tell me. What do you know of the Void, and do you happen to have an open rift somewhere in this place?"
As he said this a small golden mote of energy seperated from Absalom's form and floated up towards the shadow deity. "If you desire, this can lead you to his tomb."
"Itja-Rek. And his tomb. No. No way. No, no, no, thats impossible, but it's true! There's only one place in the whole of creation where he would be......."
He moved, faster than anything could grabbing the ball of energy, and flashing with it, moving across space, splatting through the universe, leaving only a cry in his path, a cry that spread through all of the universe, a cry of joy and hapiness, excitement.
"IIII'MMMMMMMMM HOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!"
Almost before he left, he had arrived, splatting through the walls, reapearing in the place he had first met other gods. It was still the same. It was still the same, still remanants of the hole he had first made in the wall. He grinned. Karak was back, and no matter what, he was here to stay. He laughed, his laughter filling the tomb with it's properties, warping, spreading uneavenly. The laughter of a god who was home again.
Umbart had watched this whole spectacle without reaction. As his blood flowed from his side and prophecy burst forth form his mouth, Umbart remained unmoved.
I wonder what that was about.
The words were spoken to Schi'vya but did not seem directed at any one in particular.
Out in the Sixth Cave, Sheba turned and lead Itja-Rek to the forge of the gods. When they arrived an honor guard of Hibbiki's finest warriors waited to greet them. While she was gone, the village had grown to over 300 hundred. The warriors of Hibbiki escorted Sheba and her godly companion to the keep at the center of the village.
The chieftain's son had aged well Sheba was gone and he had become a great man. "Welcome back mother" he bellowed when he saw them across the field.
"I have done as you have commanded, you will now declare me King"
Seeing his works and know they were good she replied
"Not yet, only Umbart, father of Hibbiki can do that. Now unseal Umbart's door and let me in.
With the opening of the doors, the blood of Umbart flowed out and found the wound in Itja'Rek's side. Umbart stirred from his malaise at last and beheld his injured brother.
Father of Culthet, are you okay?
As he stood a spasm of pain swept over Umbart's face but he ignored it. Instead he rushed to his oath brothers side.
The Triskelion
The heart meant for Umbart bade this being that housed it to live, yet being only partially divine in was not up to the task. The heart beat and pulled life to it, life from the nearby Lords and Ladies. As the heart beat, the hole in Maximillion's chest closed and he gained strength. As the heart beat, the life of lords and ladies faded. With but a thread of life remaining, in his fellow exarch's Maximillion was whole.
Something had touched his heart, he could feel it. Though the naga was far off, he would hunt. He began to stalk. The chase was long for the naga was keen of eye and swift of tail. Several times she thought she had lost him, indeed she had. Maximillion was tenacious, when his eyes failed to see and his ears failed to hear, his heart would pull. After several grueling days, he had at last cornered his pray. He had accurately deduced where she would rest and as she let her guard down for an instant, and instant not mortal would detect, he leapt.
1/9 PP
-2 pp (1 from oath) Nourish x2: Under its first leader the village of Hibbbiki begins to grow as its warriors keep take up defence of the village.
Nefrew watched, frantic, as a veritable battle broke out beneath her. The halfling family with which she was hiding hugged each other close, but Nefrew could not help but watch the carnage unfold. Blood splattered the uneven ground and lizard men and big burly ogres sparred between the trees. Eventually she could take it no longer, and ignoring the cries of surprise from the halflings, she launched herself through the door of the home and onto a wooden walkway, which she raced along, trying desperately to come up with some way to put an end to all of this. She hurtled across walkway after walkway, the chaos of war a constant presence below. She dodged halflings who were using the superior height to rain rocks and bits of rubbish down onto their foes below.
As she hurtled down one deserted walkway, she say something in the distance that made the breath catch in her throat. Nedjiba was running down a distant walkway, no doubt searching for her. She called after him, her call somehow carrying above the incredible din of the battle, and he froze, turning to stare in her direction. When he spotted her, he gave every impression of wanting to make his way over to her, but then he stopped, his mouth agape. Suddenly, fighters below were screaming in terror and Nedjiba's shouted words were lost amid the increased sounds. But the terror on is face was clear as he gazed at something above and behind Nefrew. She spun around just in time to see the canopy break and a vast golden shape descend, magnificent wings beating the air, sending cascades of light down on the hapless warriors.
As the thing, the golden lizard, descended, it caught on the walkway on which Nefrew stood, and the immense weight of the thing made the walkway snap, sending Nefrew tumbling downwards. Her limbs lashed out madly as she fought to get a grip on the unraveling bridge, but there as no such luck. Her hands were too slippery with sweat and the ropes whipped away too quickly, and so she tumbled all the way to the ground, landing an almighty crash that knocked the breath from her. And then all went dark.
~~~
Nedjiba picked his way through the post-battle debis, his keen eyes trained on where he knew she'd fallen. As he searched, his vision kept clouding, and he was forced to wipe his face frantically on his sleeve. He would not cry, not now. Not while she needed him. And so he searched, the sheer carnage of it all making him rather sick to his stomach.
The arrival of the dragon had scared the combatants into peace, and Nedjiba knew that even now, the leaders of the two groups were arranging peace agreements, overseen by the imposing dragon. But he had no time for such petty things while his sister was in danger. A group of young halflings had gathered around Nedjiba, helping him to search for his sister. They were capable of scurrying over the uneven ground with a grace and dexterity that was beyond Nedjiba. It was one of them who found her.
Nedjiba would remember in later days the sensation of running flat out to the spot, his heart pounding, tears flowing freely now. He tripped and stumbled, but didn't care. He scraped his hands and knees, but did not care. He only cared for Nefrew, if she was jurt, it would be all his fault, he had been the one to suggest this stupid trip...
"Jiba?" came Nefrew's voice, frighteningly weak, "Is that you?"
Nedjiba descended upon his sister and began to frantically check for injuries. She seemed well enough, but that voice, it seemed so weak.
"I'm fine Jiba," said Nefrew, and there was that weakness again. It broke Nedjiba's heart.
Being no true physician, Nedjiba brought his sister to one of the halfling women who was more skilled in such matters. Laying Nefrew down on one of the comfy beds of the village, she told Nedjiba that his sister had sustained a few minor injuries, but that she'd managed to slow her own fall enough to avoid any lasting problems. She recommended that the Twins stay in the village for a few more days while Nefrew recuperated. The Bahenet girl had absolutely no qualms with that.
~~~
They ended up staying an entire week, catching up on all their missed rest and eating their full. The halflings turned out to be highly hospitable, and the Twins were invited to a different home for supper each night, each family wanting to impress the visitors. When the time to leave drew nigh, the halflings even begged them to stay longer, for they enjoyed the company of the interesting Twins. But Nedjiba and Nefrew were forced to decline, saying that they had other places yet to see, but that they would surely return one day.
And so, on the day they were set to leave, the halflings heaped upon the Twins gifts and supplies and food to last them the long trip. When they wondered aloud how they were to carry it all, someone revealed that the gold dragon himself had offered to carry the Twins as far as the Triskellion far to the south in order to make up for all the harm he had caused. And so they prepared to depart, saying farewell to the ogres, and the halfling families, as well as to Pollux and the other dragonborn. The halflings enveloped the Twins, begging one last time for them to stay longer, forming a tight scrum around them so they couldn't excape. Finally, the dragon was forced to pluck the Twins out from the crowd and place them upon his back so they could leave, and amidst shouted farewells and wishes for good luck, they did just that, borne on the swift wings of the golden dragon.
"A Naga! You're still around here! And divine too, with a touch of someone else.....familiar..."
A tentacle reached out and flicked against The Reaper for a moment, taking a bit of flesh with it.
"hmmm....ITJA! He gave you your little spark! That's great!"
He then became serious for a moment.
"Now where is he? I'd like to say Hi to him again."
But he couldn't keep himslef serious for very long, turning back into excitement.
"But tell me. How are the Naga doing? Are they prospering? Are the flayers being hurt badly?"
Ouch! That had not been pleasant. Well, at least this god seemed to know her master. that made things a little better.
"Yes, Itja-Rek is my master... He is... Elsewhere... at the moment..." She said, feeling her energy drain away from her frantic slither.
"I... Naga? I... do not know... I have... not... seen my kin in... a long time. The mindflayers..."
Her eyes gleamed.
"I killed... them. Much... of them... They... are buried beneath the earth!"
The door opend and she caught sight of another deity. 'Good grief. How many deities inhibit this place anyhow?' She thought quietly to herself. This one however exherted stronger divine energies, which made her assume that this deity had more power, therefore the only thing that crossed her mind was the respect of powerful elders.
She bowed in respect. "Hello. This god seems to be in a wrack without an adequate heart leading him to do what he wants to. He had been complaining about a heart. I want to help him, but I just don't have the strength." She contemplated to herself, looking deep within to find more strength. It would be a while...
"By the way, I don't think we've met. I am Schi'vya, Lord of the Four Winds."
~Grasslands~
The elementals walked through the tall grass. One of them stopped-- they all stood silently and hushed their steeds. They heard voices and movement not too far from where they were. "Shh... someone's coming..."
One of the elementals lowered his hands held on to its blade that was still sheathed. Another one rasied its arm and lowered them like flapping wings in slow motion. An light air current blew through the tall grass and pushed it down a little. The air elemental stopped and the tall grass pushed back up. Nothing.
The lead elemental held his hand towards the others. He held up fingers in a numerical sequence. When he waved his hand after the final count, he jumped through the bushes not too fast to scare anyone, but quick enough to cause little sound. One of the stormbirds squacked. "Seelei! Quiet!" One of the elementals hissed silently.
They all looked about-- across the horizon, and up towards the sky.
~North of the Triskelion~
Two Thunderhawks circled around a large patch of the valley floor below just within diving distance of the edge of the Triskelion. The elementals scanned the horizon at all directions, while the thunderhawks scanned the ground below for movement. The slightest noise suggested something down in the tall grass. None was seen.
After a couple of hours of patroling, the elementals scanned the horizons. One of them caught a glimpse of something metallic in the skies. The elemental clicked and chattered to the others and pointed toward the direction of the flash. They both diverted and flew over toward the metallic flash, not knowing what they were in for.
He turned, and grinned at Ijta's divine naga.
"Nice meeting you. You should go check up on the Nagas, see how they are doing. After all, you are one. That's something that no spark of divine energy can erase. Who knows, they might have legends about how one of them rose to stand with the gods. Just a thought. Now to find Itja."
He grinned, and checked for the divine bond between this naga and Itja. He saw it, a glimmering strand. He prepared a message, made from a touch of his own, personal, unique energy.
"Now this might sting a little...."
Using this naga as a conduit, he sent the message jumping along the strand.
"Itja, guess who?"
"Itja-Rek" he said by way of introduction to this newcomer before turning to Umbart.
"No heart? What did you do with the old one? And don't go telling me that you didn't come up with a contingency plan if this removal was on purpose. So... where is it?"
The tingle of Karak's message plunged into his mind, and he sent a reply along the same strand of power.
~The Tomb of Itja-Rek~
The Reaper grunted as the energy of this god passed through her and to her master. This was not pleasant! Moments later, she felt compelled to open her mouth and speak.
"Karak!" Itja-Rek's voice bubbled through the exarch, who swayed happily as the power of her god flowed through her. "I had feared you dead! Come, I need your help... one of our brethren has managed to do something highly stupid."
The naga's hand came up and touched Karak and a flash of information on the current layout of the world and Itja-Rek's position in it filled the other deity's mind as the presence faded from the Reaper.
"Oh... and before you go..." She said slowly, catching her breath. "I've been being chased all... this way... by some evil man... Could you... help me with that?"
Somewhere
The Mother reeled in the wake of this... this... whatever this was. Someones thoughts? A message? The idea of prophecy was unknown to her... she was a creature of the present and the past, and gave little thought to the future except to ensure that her Children would live to see it.
Still, this was... disturbing. But the clay pigeon continued to beat its wings impatiently. The Aaviz could not wait it seemed, even if she still had no idea what he wanted her for or what she would do once the bird led her to him.
The Floating Continent, the Desert
It was night. Night was cool, and perfect for traveling in. Not that it mattered much to Skeriolinionigjebflaedunaria, elder Sandlord and fear of the desert. Day, night, this place was its domain and would bow to his will. And his will at the moment was to follow up on... a rumor of sorts. A prophecy, it could be said. A legend. A legend that, if true, would bestow upon him more power than he could possibly imagine.
This was the place... he knew it was. The tales were quite clear. This was where some time ago the Mother had born forth their kind, and as such... was the place where their broken eggs would be. Chittering in excitement, the Sandlord snapped his pincers eagerly, before beginning to burrow into the sand, attempting to find the long buried treasure that would give unto him the most valuable of prizes... immortality.
Legend had it that long ago, before this world was even made and it was somehow divided into two, the Mother had floated in the form of a single egg. When she had hatched, she had eaten the egg she had hatched from for strength... and had received it. If that was true, legend spoke that any that ate of the first eggs to hatch their own kind would receive their own form of god hood, if in a far weaker state than the Mother herself. Rather than gifting them power, they would merely bestow upon the Broodlord that ate of it the ability to live forever more, immune to the ravages of age. To think, what land could he amass if he didn't have to worry about loosing it upon death? What servants he could achieve with thousands of years to lay plans in? He would be the mightiest Broodlord the world had ever known, and would remain so for an eternity! And all he needed to do was to eat the egg shells... which after some digging, he held in his very pincers.
Slavering at the prospects before him, the Sandlord prepared to feat... before a blow of sonic energy knocked him off his leg segments, sending him sprawling in the sand. From out of nowhere, a form swooped down, hovering in the sky, bright green leg segments dangling beneath the vaguely draconic form. Insectoid wings beat faster than sight to keep the thing aloft, as it croaked in laughter.
"Ah, Skeriolinionigjebflaedunaria, I knew if I followed you long enough you'd lead me to the prize," the Skylord gloated. "You always were the dreamer, were you not? But surely a mere worm of the sands doesn't deserve such glorious power... only one that rules the skies could handle such a gift!"
"Kerionimakireniaormanlishowiakolap!" the Sandlord hissed accusingly. "I should have known you'd be here to steal my prize! But I already have the eggs! There's no way you can defeat me, and if you even try, I'll eat them!"
"Then I'm simply have to cut them out of your bloated, underclass belly, Sand Crawler," the Skylord replied confidently. "Those eggs may stop one from aging, but they certainly don't stop them from dieing!"
"And what if doing so makes the eggs lose their potency, hm?" the Sandlord hissed.
"Then I suppose there'll be a large loss for the evening, and one dead Sandlord to add to the pile," the Skylord replied.
Hm... Skeriolinionigjebflaedunaria thought carefully. If they were to fight... one of them could die. If he tried to retreat, he'd be killed for sure, and the same could be said of the Sky Wretch. He only needed a single egg to achieve immortality... so as loathe as he was to even think it...
"Here," the Sandlord hissed reluctantly, tossing an empty egg shell the Skylords way. "I only need one... and you the same. Lets both achieve immortality, then go our separate ways to kill each other some other time."
The Skylord looked intrigued by the offer, looking down at the egg beneath it, before landing. "Your offer intrigues me, Underclass brute," the Skylord admitted. "I didn't think such crude beings like yourself could come up with such a civil course of action... very well. For tonight, we dine on immortality. For tomorrow... you will die."
"We'll see," the Sandlord hissed.
**********
Immortality was a powerful thing. The two Lords parted ways after dining upon the eggs, neither one wanting to risk loosing their immortal life so soon. Over the years, the grew stronger, and amassed more Broodlings, and even Broodlords. Soon, both had something that no-one had thought was possible... a nation of Broodlords. Mot even a half of the Broodlords of the world were divided between them, but with such power and with so many Broodlings to a Broodlord, it was still an amazing sight to behold.
With Sandlords and Earthlords on his side, Skeriolinionigjebflaedunaria grew a vast empire of the desert, though left the earth beneath mostly untouched. Though Broodlords seldom built, he did so, building a citadel that reached to the sky to suite his vanity and power.
With Skylords and Grasslords on his, Kerionimakireniaormanlishowiakolap to grew a vast empire, dedicating a temple to himself on the highest mountain on the floating continent, which in turn meant he sat himself on perhaps the highest place in existence. He could not rule the Sky, for it was impossible to subjugate the birds and the clouds, but he did rule over much forest and grassland, and make all fear to look skyward.
But as is the way with Broodlords, eventually they both wanted... more. If one could topple the other, and claim their empire for their own, they would be all but unstoppable, unparalleled in power! And so, the two nations fought... but the Broodlords were not creatures of complex warfare. Each side simply decided on a vague place to fight, and sent generation after generation of Broodling and Broodlord to fight a futile battle neither side would win, the sands and grasslands running with blood. And each side simply waited with their immortal lives until some population boon on one side or random even would turn the events in their favor, careless to the numerous lives lost in the meat grinder of a battlefield.
2PP - Guide Nation (Empire of Sands) - The Empire of Sands arises under the leadership of the immortal Skeriolinionigjebflaedunaria. It is at constant war with the Empire of Skies. It consists mostly of Sandlords and Earthlords, as well as their associated Broodlings.
2PP - Guide Nation (Empire of Skies) - The Empire of Skies arises under the leadership of the immortal Kerionimakireniaormanlishowiakolap. It is at constant war with the Empire of Sands. It consists mostly of Skylords and Grasslords, as well as their associated Broodlings.
~The Cove of Sariok~
A'nenat paced around the remains of the campfire.
"They were here not long ago... perhaps three days past. We're catching up to them, Medes." He said to his partner, who was pawing through the ashes and pulling out the thin bones of the fish the children had eaten.
"Have you ever had one of these?" Medes asked, eying the bones.
"Fish?" A'nenat replied. "No, but I know of another tracker who has... The four-soul Ko'grat, you remember him, right?"
Medes nodded. "Right. He left to start teaching after his last Severance, correct?"
A'nenat nodded. "He found his body couldn't keep up after the five-soul transition, so he asked to be promoted to teacher as soon as possible."
"So... what did it taste like? This fish?"
"Do you know those small game birds that we sometimes catch and eat? The ones that some of us keep in pens and breed?"
"The flightless ones?"
"Right. He said that it tasted like that."
"Oh."
Finished with the campfire, the two trackers got up and jogged off in the direction of the forest that looked to be roughly a day east of here.
Oh, it seemed the bird was... ahhh, there he was. Napping while he waited for her she supposed. Hm... well this seemed a good way to pay him back for the Itja-Rek without having to actually yell at him about it when she wasn't sure he deserved it anymore. And for dragging her away from the Sonnet...
Flying down beneath the Aaviz, the Mother cheekily took a bite out of the tree he napped on, which caused it to tilt over on one side and collapse under its own weight. She had the sudden urge to yell 'timber' for some odd reason... she wondered if this was a little mean. Ah well, he probably deserved it, and it wasn't like he was actually in any danger.
As the strange deity of Culthet abruptly departed, Absalom merely shrugged and turned back to look at the Queen. “That was rather odd…”
Walking forward and bending down at the knee, the golden god reached out with both hands and clasped the sides of Fiona’s head. Pulling it gently towards him, he leaned down and planted an affectionate kiss on the crown of her head. “Thank you big sister, for your help with my valley,” spoke the God of beauty.
“As much as I enjoy your company, I must depart now. My children dance within my thoughts, singing of the joys and exuberance of life. But it is but a distorted dream, an imperfect reflection of the greater beauty they will possess when they live in truth.”
Standing then and turning to walk away from the Egg-Tree and the Queen, Absalom took one final moment to say “Farewell Dear Sister, may fortune see us both through the times to come…” With that he stepped through the fabric of reality.
****
Reappearing in the midst of a gentle stride, as if he had crossed merely a few feet of forest rather than a vast bound of time and space, Absalom took a moment to survey his surroundings. Immediately to the east, not but a few hundred feet the gently lapping waves and vast blue expanse of Absalom’s lake lay. Beyond the waters, further to the east could be seen the foothills and towering peaks of the mountains, caps covered in ice, though Absalom’s divine eyes could discern glowing fires deep in those peaks. To the south, the river that marked the bounds of this land flowed and beyond that could be discerned the looming shapes of the mushroom forest. Westward stood two medium sized forests, with tendrils approaching as close together as two miles apart, though a broad clear expanse was always present between the two. The land the God stood on was clear, with grassy hills rolling gently without a single tree in sight for several miles in all directions.
“This will be a good place to begin, though this land still needs a few final toches.”
Drawing forth divine power from the Codex and the Masquerade, Absalom caused an abundance of algae and fish to bloom in the sparkling blue waters of the lake and river. Meanwhile, on the land, strange round pounds seemed to sprout from the very ground itself, each one between one and two feet in diameter. As the pods took shape, a general swirling pattern could be discerned in what came to be their shells, whilst underneath sprouted four spidery legs and a dozen small tentacles with eyes located on the end of four and tiny mouths on the ends of the others. These beasts quickly began to scurry about the land and into the forest, traveling in large groups of about 10 to 15 and feeding on the grasses and trees.
Now, drawing forth massive amounts of divine energy, Absalom set about molding his single most ambitious creation yet. The air around the God became heavy and poignant, time and space coagulated and began to twist and turn, the edges of the persona seemed to become less well defined, thousands of angry needles of liquid Gold jumping and screeching maddeningly in rapid transition, and the very energy and language of reality became visible as radiant lines of pure energy that seemed to materialize out of thin air and congregate within Absalom’s hands. The God of beauty worked vigorously, shifting energies, manipulating meaning, and fashioning form. For hours he stood in that spot as the very fabric of reality warped around him, the light of Mani and Sol passing overhead and leaving only the gentle ambient glow of the Waltzing Mountains in their wake and still he worked.
He sought to create a talisman of the universe, a living object that would be fundamentally intertwined with the nature and language of the universe. An object through which reality itself could flow and dance, about which it could swirl and reflect and sing, and that could reproduce and grow and change to reflect reality. Slowly at first, a single shard of power seemed to take root in the ground directly below where Absalom worked.
The sliver grew and began to take shape, rising towards the Gods fists and the apex of the power and life that flowed through the land to this spot. As it did so, its base grew wider to support its ascent. However, the closer it seemed to approach the center of power and life to which some fundamental mandate of its nature drove its material form. Seconds passed and then minutes as the shard lengthened to become a blade, then a spear, then a column, it grew and grew but seemingly without moving the apex of its existence grew no nearer. Bursting skyward, drawn by some universal attraction, reality warped around and within the shard as Absalom crafted a tapestry of existence by which it could be fulfilled.
After what seemed like simultaneously a great deal of time and no time at all, standing before Absalom was a giant crystal spire rising nearly two hundred meters into the sky, perfectly circular at its base with a diameter of nearly two dozen meters, and gradually shrinking until at its peak it was a barely a millimeter in thickness. Deep within its recesses, strange colors and shapes not unlike the ones that occupied the center of Absalom’s true form flowed and morphed. Around the spire, a haunting tenor whispered through the air, an incomplete melody whispering of a longing for perfection. The melody was not just something heard however, it was felt in the skin and bones, it danced subliminally before the eyes, smelt of the perfumes of a hundred cities, and had the hint and taste of spices never before consumed.
Absalom stepped back, physically panting and exerting himself to hold the Persona in its dictated form. He did not know why it took so much energy for him to create the spire, but it was finished. Soon, once he had recovered his strength, Absalom would shape the flesh and sinew of his children, but at the moment he needed to rest. So sitting back on the gentle grassy hill, Absalom breathed deeply and experienced the song of his creation.
****
There was a reason the creation of the crystal spire drained Absalom so. Many thousands of miles away, simultaneously in the southwest portion of the Sea of Eden, reality also bent and warped. Something about the structure of this universe, something about the way reality flowed had fundamentally intertwined this spot and Absalom’s valley. The earth deep under the waters began to buckle and warp at first, however as it quaked a strange black mass sprouted forth. Thousands of tiny microscopic black calcium fragments aligned themselves in geometric shapes until they created vast underwater columns, arches, and domes. They too sang a haunting incomplete melody that was felt by all the senses and alluring to the surroundings, but this song was altered by the water, so that he seemed somehow more sinister and foreboding.
4pp (one leftover from last week)- Create Greater Artifact- The Black Coral Gardens: The metaphysical twin of the Crystal Spires, the coral gardens act in the same manner but are composed of black coral that arranges itself into irregular shapes. Also Arbitration Artifact.
1pp Nourish (Codex)- The waterways of the valley spring to life with fishies and such.
1pp Spawn Creature (Masquerade)- An arthropod with a round shell from 1 to 2 feet in diameter with four spidery legs emerging from underneath as well as a host of tentacles. Some of the tentacles possess eyes, whilst others possess mouths (seeing and taste and touch being their only two senses). They scurry around devouring grass, leaves, bark, and small prey, and in small groups could pose a threat to individuals of the sentient races (there tentacles are capable of stinging with a neurotoxin). However, inside their shells they are quite squishy, tasty, and nutritious :D)
Seeing the Mother has finally arrived, he offered her a bow and swept his hat form his head. "A pleasure to see you, my friend. I was wondering when you might be able to make it, and I guess I dozed off. You do have free time and are not in a hurry, yes? Because I do have something I'd like very much for you to see."
The Mother chewed the wood in her mouth dryly, before swallowing. She had hoped that would be more satisfying... but really, even if he had gotten hurt, she doubted she'd of gotten any pleasure out of it.
"I am in not in a hurry now no," the Mother replied. She supposed she should just be thankful that he had interrupted her at a less intrusive time than the Itja-Rek did! "I would be happy to see whatever you have to show me. I much enjoyed working with you to create our last work together."
"Anyhow, I was sitting up on the floating aerie watching them when I realized that, since you inspired me to do the work, and they are somewhat similar to yourself, that you might like to see them."
With the aid of the golden dragon, the miles slipped away in mere hours, minutes even, as they soared high over hill and dale. From the dragon's back, they could see for miles. Eventually, they could make out the three-pointed silhouette of the Triskellion, and still beyond that loomed the impressive Godspire. They gazed in wonderment at this in particular. Even from distant Baheshep they could see the Godspire, but the Twins had never been this close before. And they passed over much as well. The dragon dipped low so they could see the way the ground itself was warped like the tossing seas, to only evidence that Nihilath had once stood here. Eventually they came across Virago wandering far from their homes, who stopped to point at them as they passed. They passed extensive manor homes of powerful fey lords, and soon little hamlets passed beneath them as they descended further and further into Eladrin country.
Now the Triskellion itself loomed above them, its triple peaks piercing the sky like jagged teeth. The dragon dipped and wove through the air, catching on wind currents until they were close enough to land. As the Twins disembarked from the dragon, dragging their satchels of food from the the halflings, they thanked the dragon for all he'd done.
"Oh, it was my pleasure," boomed the dragon.
"Really, said Nefrew, "We really appreciate it."
"Well," said the dragon thoughtfully, "Here's one last bit of advice."
The Twins waited patiently as the dragon drew himself up and buffetted the air once before speaking, "Don't drink the tea." And, laughing his booming laugh, the dragon departed, leaving the Twins to wonder whether he had lost his mind completely.
They watched the dragon depart into the distance, a bright golden speck growing smaller with every passing moment. They stood on that grassy hillock until they could see him no longer, and then turned, and went on their merry old way.
Spiders? Why, she had created some smaller varieties of them back at the Hive! How great minds think alike! Hm... she wondered if this had anything to do with the Golden Mother With Spider Legs she had seen in passing at the tomb of Itja-Rek? Who had seemed to be with the Queen... best to not follow that train of thought, lest she begin blaming the poor Children for association to someone with association!
She could hardly blame the Queen for all that had happened though, she- oh my, she needed to get out of her own head. "I would be happy to look at these Children of yours the Aaviz," the Mother replied. "I am always glad to see the works of others, and they will no doubt be a welcome distraction."
Flying around the aerie, Astriluxus notices a slight change in the dragons that he had left here. They are leaner, stronger and more mean-spirited...... Maybe the area is too hostile for his children?
Spotting the mother and Aaviz, he landed softly behind the two. "Hello again Aaviz! The Mother! It is a pleasure meeting you again! After an interesting bout beyond the veil, I decided to drop by. I hope I'm not intruding on anything here?"
Dragonborn encampment~
Despite all in the raiding party recieving some injuries, it went even better than suspected. After some recuperation time, they had returned to the camp with food, and other supplies as well as some new allies. Pollox carrying his recovered glaive, over seen to make sure everyone was doing well. With fresh information from the halflings, they had heard there was a large grasslands bordered by a vast amount of water a few days south. Everyone heartened by the news, prepare to set out again.
In the skies above~
It didn't take long for the gold dragon to catch up with the silver. After a while they decide to land for a bit while waiting for the dragonborn to start moving again. A copper dragon passing by far from her home, stops by and they all chat away for a while.
The dragon had gone past them faster than they had expected. The watchers turned around and followed it back to the Triskelion, only to find that it had landed somewhere towards the center already. Then they watched it depart once again back towards them and over the watchers. They were terribly confused, but after that they had no sense of urgent alarm. So they proceeded back to their original patrols, circling above the valley floor-- scanning the horizons once again.
~Triskelion; Center~
All but a few eladrin had vacated the Thunderwaltz settlement. The few that stayed were humble warriors that served to protect the site from danger, if ever the original Nation's settlement was attacked. It was a resourseful backup. They had expanded slightly to fit newcomers from the other tribe. Two stormbirds settled in the trees near the settlement-- guardians thses few eladrin considered these majestic birds as.
He did not intend to show her personally? She would find this rather rude normally... but she admitted that she had spent a lot of time with other Mothers lately. Her entire mind was wrapped around in politics and 'melding' and the Itja-Rek and hurtful words. Maybe what she needed was just to watch some Children play, and enjoy the little wonders of creation in solitude. Resting in the Hive had been all well and good, but when was the last time she'd stepped outside of her comfort zone and looked beyond what others had shown her?
"That is most fortunate I must say," the Mother replied. "Well then, I shall take a look around, and see if they are as wondrous as you say. No doubt they will be... all Children are a miracle."
And that was when the dragon flew down... well, as much as she welcome old company, she found herself longing for solitude still! "I am afraid I am busy, the Scaled One With Wings, but I will talk to you sometime in the future I am sure," the Mother replied with a small bow, before fluttering off into the forest.
****
Somewhere on the Floating Continent
This had not been a good time for the Grasslord. He was both old and young, and both irked him greatly. A Grasslord, as with any Broodlord in general, is born alone, and forced to kill their brood and devour them for nutrients. He had done so, won, and had lived. He had grown his small territory slowly but surely, before the desire to have Broodlings to serve him drew him out of it to seek those who would serve him.
In the end, he had decided the safest route was to simply appeal to an older Grasslord and ask them for Broodlings to call his own. They had accepted, in return for their services... but as time went on, he still had no Broodlings, and yet was getting sucked into more and more duties. Finally, he had appealed to his elder... and been told he would not get a single Broodlings despite his years of service. In anger, the younger Grasslord, Vedernorialshingorianaw, had lashed out, intended to kill the elder and take his Broodlings by force, but had been overpowered by the Elders superior size and strength. And so, scarred and horrible wounded, he had fled back to his old territory to nurse himself back to health.
And now here he was. Fully healed, but very old for a Broodlord to be without servants. Yet not old enough to take them from all but the weakest of Broodlords! It was infuriating! And the damage done to his carapace didn't help matters... he was hardly vain, but he did not like the numerous scars that crossed his chitinous form. So Vedernorialshingorianaw hopped through the forest, somehow hoping against hope he might find a rogue Broodling colony that had taken route there, or... oh? What was this?
The Grasslord landed just short of a clearing, peering through the tree line to see some sort of small village... it seemed to be inhabited by odd, furry creatures. Hm... these creatures seemed weak. No doubt it would take but slaughtering half of their number to cull the rest into serving him. The Grasslord rubbed his impalation tentacles wickedly, letting out chirps of laughter.
But wait! What if they were not worthy to serve him? What if they were impossible to control, or too weak to be of use? Perhaps he should learn more of them first...
Though it pained him not to simply jump into their midst and begin slaughtering the insignificant soft fleshed, the Grasslord half scuttled, half hopped slowly towards the village, trying not to appear to be a threat. "I wish to speak to your leader," he called out in what passed for a greeting.
"Sure. Here you go."
He made a tentacle twine in and around itself, forming a knot of infinite complexity. He then made it solid and broke it off, catching it with another tentacle. He handed it toward Itja's divine naga.
"Here you go. Bit of divine corruption, just hang onto it, and force it's energies toward this offending person. It should solve your problem nicely. Just don't lose it, I might want it back sometime."
He turned, and stuck his tentacle between the universe again. Know that he knew where he was going, screw crazy splatting, it was time for dramatics. He forced the universe to warp, shift, change around him, forming a tunnel, one end where he was, one where Itja was. Before he traveled, an idea struck him. He turned back to Itja's divine naga.
"Actually, when you're finished, give it to the Naga. They could use it, and you have an excuse to see your people again. "
He jumped through the tunnel, letting it close behind him. The universe was re-asserting its correct form, and he was racing down the tunnel before it, avoiding being caught up in the correction. He zoomed out of the tunnel, doing a floating cloud's version of rolling when he hit the ground.
"Itja, nice to see WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU?!"
-2 PP: Create Artifact(lesser): Knot of Corruption. An epic-tier artifact, it contains a bit of Karak's essence in its infinite coils. As a result, its wielder can use it to control corrupting energies, to great effect.
7/9 PP
"Don't worry Karak (good to see you, too). Its not my blood, its his" he said, pointing to where Umbart lay swooning.
"I... don't really know what he's managed to do with himself, but whatever it is, it isn't good. Do you have any ideas on how to stop the bleeding? Could you like... I don't know... cauterize the wounds somehow? His divine body will survive without a heart, but he can't wander around losing this much blood. Its probably not healthy, and its certainly unsettling."
The irony of this statement was lost on the god made up of thousands of screaming souls.
Mjoln silently cursed the glimmer of light from the ice and storms overhead; darkness was safety, darkness was security, and that light robbed them off it.
Most of the city was asleep, though without a true night or day it never was perfectly quiet. But at least now was when the fewest people were on the streets. Drahken, most of them, being sent about this or that business, kept from their needed sleep. Mjoln would have taken them all with him, if he could, but he would not take any more risks than necessary with his wife, Yrm. There was one risk, however, that both of them knew was unavoidable. Their egg was in the rookery, under guard. It would hatch soon and they would not allow the youngling inside to be born into slavery.
A liquidy, gurgling sound came from behind him. Mjoln turned to see Yrm holding an Ilithid, the things black blood dripping from beneath its tentacles, where his mate had ripped out its throat. He hadn’t heard the mindflayer approach; he was pleased that he had selected such a fine mate. He mouthed a thank you to her before dashing across the plaza. A dragonforged slave at the far end of it turned to see what the noise was, but Mjoln’s black scales blended too well into the shadows. The slave shrugged and went about its business.
A bolt of silver darted across the plaza as soon as eyes were once more looking elsewhere. Yrm’s scales were not so conducive to hiding, but Mjoln was in some ways glad. His mate was too beautiful to hide. But this evening they needed stealth; she had smeared ash over herself, but when she had wiped the ilithid’s blood from her hands the ash went as well. When she was next to him he silently pointed to her bright scales and she quickly stuffed her hands inside her shirt. Oh, what he wouldn’t give for a good pair of gloves right now.
Three mindflayer guards protected the entry to the rookery. This was one of the ways they controlled the Drahken slaves; imprison their young, raise them apart from their parents, break them before they had a chance to develop an independent thought. It had worked for many generations, but the guards had grown soft with success. Mjoln and Yrm fell upon them and blood flowed with ease. The guards were unprepared for the fury and rage of two Drahken parents separated from their young.
As they slinked down into the bowels of the rookery, they were overly aware that they couldn’t remain secret for much longer. The bodies of those who had stumbled upon them were growing too conspicuous.
This was a small, less important settlement, so likewise the number of slaves were fewer, and in turn the number of eggs as well. Only four rested there for the moment. Mjoln and Yrm egg, a pale green one with swirls of blue, was not.
Mjoln’s master must have known what they had planned, that was the only explanation. He had their child, and they would have it back.
It seemed as though their entire journey had been leading to the Godspire. Neither had made any verbal affirmation of this, but it seemed like something unspoken yet understood. And now that they were so close, they couldn't help but measurably quicken their pace. They had but to overcome the Triskellion, and they would be there.
They decided to skirt around the eastern side of the Triskellion, rather than attempt to scale it, which they were in no position to do at the moment. They also decided to avoid any Eladrin settlements, not daring to gamble that they would be as kind as the halflings. But still, they passed rather close to the Eladrin from time to time, and it was only Nedjiba's quick thinking that kept them from being seen. Nefrew on the other hand, was completely enraptured by the terrible beauty and grace of the unearthly creatures, and spied on them whenever she could, just to watch the way they moved, so elegantly.
Eventually however, their journey took them further and further away from the Eladrin settlements and they were traveling on open grassy plains, filled with rolling hills and the occasional copse of trees. It was very windy here, so Nedjiba disliked it, but it was also rather beautiful, so Nefrew loved it. She could even have sworn that the grass was more a greenish shade of teal than the grass she was used to back home near Baheshep. All of this added to the somewhat dreamlike quality of the whole area. They had flighty, beautiful phantoms in the Eladrin, remarkable surroundings, and a sort of carefree levity they associated with childhood. To be quite honest, this was what Nedjiba had been hoping for all along, back when he'd planned their escape. Just a wide open field for them to play in.
But living it was quite different than dreaming it, for the reality was rather dreamlike too, vague, artificial even. The more he stared at the teal-green grass and the swatches of bright wildflowers, the more it all appeared to Nedjiba as some great big water-colour painting they were living in. Despite having found exactly what he'd set out to find, the young boy now found that he was all the more spurred to reach the Godspire.
As the Mushroom Forest reared up in front of them however, the dreamlike state only seemed to intensify. Once the actually entered the Forest, which was rather impossible to avoid at this point, the feeling was only exacerbated by the sensation that they were being watched. The forest itself however, was in a word, magnificent. An odd purple moss coated the floor, dampening their footfalls. Strange luminous plants lined the path, and opened up, spreading their greenish glow when they approached, and then closed back up when they were gone, making a glow that esssentially followed them along. All manner of other plants and things lurked beyond the cast of the light, strange looping things, and crawling orange vines and pods the size of your head. But nothing was more impressive than the Mushrooms. They ranged from the vast, which soared way up and with their stalks formed an impenetrable canopy that blocked out the light from above, to the small, that littered the sides of the path, to the in between, which stayed roughly in the middle.
But despite the magnificence of the fungus, Nefrew and Nedjiba couldn't help but quicken their steps even further, so desperate were they to escape this surreal world. Eventually the dense canopy broke, and the Twins emerged into a clearing of sorts, a spot which appeared to have had all of its giant mushrooms uprooted so to speak. They had already begun to grow back though, creating a clearing of sorts of younger, smaller mushrooms. These were so low that the Twins were able to climb atop them and scurry across their mottled surfaces without falling off. Nedjiba took this opportunity to check the sky, and was surprised to see that it was darkening. They had spent so much time beneath the mushrooms that day had already passed. Now able to study the Waltzing Mountains, he determined which was was south, and thus which way they should travel.
They ended up staying there that night, resting atop the vast mushrooms, which were sturdy enough not to sway and disrupt their sleep. Nedjiba was on the verge of taking out the tent that the halflings had given them, when Nefrew asked if they could maybe not use it that night, perhaps instead sleeping beneath the Waltzing Mountains. Nedjiba agreed, and as twilight fell, he suddenly found himself not minding how very dreamlike it all was. And as he slipped into deep sleep, he found himself dreaming of dancing through the mushroom forest with Nefrew and with strange, plant-like men with their foliage shaped into various shifting patterns. He found himself staring at one of the men, watching the great ball of greenery atop his head shift and warp. Soon the dancing green filled his whole vision and he became lost in it.
He was snapped awake by pain in his wrists and ankles. His eyes fluttered open and he saw he was sitting in a chair, bound tightly to it by the wrists and ankles, in front of a great big table formed of mushrooms. The table was set with napkins and doilies and tablecloths of various shapes and sizes, as well as an assortment of tea sets of various makes and sizes. He could see now that the strange twig-men from his dream were dancing around the table, their greenery no longer shifting. Nedjiba was placed at one end of the table, and a great big plump twig-man sat the the other, very old, withered and grumpy looking. Nefrew sat the the table, roughly right between Nedjiba and the old Twig-man. She looked as though she had not yet come to. Nedjiba looked down and saw teacups filled with violently orange tea sat before each of them, and a phrase flashed into his brain. "Don't drink the tea!"
Nedjiba looked up and, struggling with his bonds, saw that the old twig-man had noticed he was conscious. The twig-man smiled as Nedjiba yelled "Let us go!"
The twig-man merely shook his head and, pouring some of the bright orange tea into his own teacup, said "Oh, but not before you've had some tea dear boy, not before you've had some tea..."
He reached out with his tentacle, and shifted the blood's composition over, rearraging the structure of it. The blood froze, and changed, becoming crystals, harder than diamond, and red as blood. He brushed the gems that lay on his and Itja's bodies.
"Will hurt like nothing else getting out the ones in his body, but doesn't that look good?"
Right where the wound had been was now a plug of the crystal, shiny and smooth.
He idly pushed the gems into the ground, letting them rest there.
-1 PP: Nourish Land: Bloodgems appear in the ground. I don't know where we are right now, but it is currently rich in bloodgems. As they are made from the blood of a god, bloodgems are extremely powerful magic containers, as well as making powerful trinkets.
6/9 PP
"I'm not certain why he chose to do that to himself..." The sudden appearance of yet another deity caught her eyes. Another cloudy, void-like figure rolled on the ground and spoke to the other deity, which was Itja-rek. She froze in place, not speaking another word.
"So be it. Come, Lord Star. We shall leave."
~The Sea of Eden~
Syreene | Sonnet had been meditating again. It cracked open an eye at the water-god's welcome, though.
"Hello yourself, Harkon" it said, its voice a sing-songy merger of Sonnet's rich tenor and Syreene's lyrical Alto.
"We apologize for our inattentiveness. Perhaps next time you would be better served being louder. We can be quite focused, you see."
The piering of her blade within her form started to appear in front of her-- the faint sillouhette of the Blade of the Four Winds. She tried to desperately grab it, but it quickly faded. The air around her grew tighter and started to squeeze on her very essence. Just before it got to its climax, she let loose a horrible scream of pain that echoed throughout the complex caverns of the Godspire.
She then fell down to the floor-- limp and motionless, but still alive. Her eyes were closed shut.
~The Triskelion~
The tribe succeeded in taking control of the Fire Lords, and they put them to work in carrying large logs and formed them into something large-- several large buildings. The elementals and eladrin collaborated by binding the logs together to make large walls of fallen trees that urrounded the settlement.
Draekan stood outside of his hut and saw the surprising progress of the project. He smiled with gratitude. All of a sudden, he stumbled on hs feet and fell down to the ground. A few eladrin saw and ran to his aid. "Are you all right?"
Draekan slipped back int conciousness. Something was wrong. He knew not what the trouble was, but he knew something was out of place. "Yeah, I'm fine. Thank you." He bowed.
~The Sixth Cavern~
Dorith snorted and turned her back to Kalasa. "Come. We're leaving." She directed to the others.
Suddenly, she fainted and fell down to the floor. The others raced to her side to pick her up. "Dorith! Are you all right?" One of them turned to face Kalasa. "What did you just do??"
Dorith slipped back into conciousness. "Wha...? I'm fine... something's wrong... I think..." She stumbled in her speech. "... MASTER!!!" She yelled, and ran out towards the entrance to the tunnel. The others followed.
~The Bryofita City~
Tarranat started to stumble in his footsteps, and partially lost conciousness. He shook his head and regained his strength. "Whoa... wha... what was that?"
~The Golden Forest~
A pair of Thunderhawks flew next to each other-- Sephan rde on one of them, and another elemental rode on the other. They flew in unison, performing simple tricks and turns in the air. Suddenly, Sephan slipped thrugh his conciousness, and the Thunderhawk dove straight down towards the forest below. The other hurriedly dove after. After a few seconds, Sephan wke up and found that the forest was closer than usual. He finally figured out he was diving straight towards the ground. He forced the Thunderhawk upwards and back into a straight line. The thunderhawk hit a few branches from the very tops f the trees, but avoided injury. "Phew..." He said to himself. "What happened?"
Nedjiba was having a hard time processing it all. Half his mind believed he was still dreaming, and the other half just wanted to be free. But there was a little voice, right at the back that was scared, scared for him, but most of all, scared for the still unmoving Nefrew. The only thing he could think to do was get the strange creatures talking so they may reveal what was going on.
"Who are you?" he asked, "Why have you taken us?"
The twig-man contemplated Nedjiba over the top of his still steaming tea cup for a very long time before speaking, "Well dear boy, I am the King of this land, King of Mushway, of the Mushroom Kingdom if you will. As for your other question, well, let's just say that we do seem to be lacking in suitable tea party guests these days." The King indicated the cup then, "Drink up, before it gets cold."
"If you'll only free my wrists," said Nedjiba, struck with a sudden inspiration.
"Oh-ho! How rude of me!" the King snapped his fingers at a nearby twig-man, "You, help our guest to some tea."
The twig-man in question hurried over to Nedjiba, and despite numerous shouts of protest, and much squirming and flailing, picked up the teacup and forced its contents into his mouth, holding his nose and forcing his mouth shut so he had no choice but to swallow or else suffocate. The effect was immediate. Nedjiba saw bright orange spots pop into his vision, and an odd sensation was spreadin rapidly through his body, like a tingling warmth. The warmth then turned into a pleasant numbness as Nedjiba, writhing with the intensity of the sensation, could no longer feel his own body, just the sweet sweet warmth.
It was then that Nefrew awoke, snapped into conciousness by the moans coming from her brother. Immediately her eyes latched onto him, and she screamed, "What have you done to my brother?"
"Now now..." began the King amidst frantic cries for help from Nefrew, but he was interrupted by a great furry shape erupting onto the scene perhaps drawn by Nefrew's shouts.
The thing had huge horns jutting from its head, and a little flower where its tail should be. With great sweeping motions of his horns, he sent the twig-men scurrying in terror, and Nefrew noticed that a crown was slung across his horns. Having little time to marvel at this, Nefrew found her bonds broken by a few swift motions by the creature, and subsequently tossed onto his back. The thing was about to depart when Nefrew screamed at his to take her brother too. Apparently the thing comprehended, for Nefrew soon found her brother sitting behind her on the beast, still writhing like mad. Perhaps it was merely a trick of the light, but his very skin seemed to be changing colours. She barely had time to notice this when the creature beneath them leapt into the forest and bounded off.
"Well, that is certainly... One way to solve the problem." Itja-Rek said, touching the crystal gently. "It seems to be holding, at least. Umbart, how do you feel?"
~The Tomb of Itja-Rek~
The Reaper smiled as she held the weapon in her hand. Let her foe try and defeat her now!
She slithered down the long tunnels to the Distillery, depositing her load of souls and basking for a long moment in the thanksgiving of her god, which shone blue from her eyes and in a jagged pattern down and along her scales. When the feeling finally faded... she couldn't say if it had been minutes or days, she reached into her satchel and pulled out a flask, filling it from the distillery tap. The god had been correct. She should return to determine what had happened to her people, and this was just the present she needed.
Smiling, she picked up her basket and boldly slithered from the Tomb, ready to face her pursuer.
~Halfling-Ogre Village~
The next day, Medes and A'nenat stumbled upon the remains of a campfire, marred with marks of combat and the footprints of many different kinds of creatures. The trackers marveled at the number of children that had been in the camp, but were alarmed at the giant footprints and the ones that appeared to have talon-marks. It was late in the day when they found what they were looking for. They had known that their quarry had entered this clearing, but finding their exit path among all of these tracks was very difficult. Finally, they found the tracks of one of the two children, moving along with the tracks of many of the taloned-ones. Had one of the children been taken prisoner? And if so, where was the other? So badly injured that they had been carried off?
They followed the tracks, jogging in their haste to see where the led, until they came to the scene of yet another, larger battle, beneath the swinging walkways of a village. Medes and A'nenat stared in wonder at the treehouses, but their eyes snapped quickly on the approaching halflings.
"Be calm" A'nenat whispered to the younger tracker.
"Yes." came the terse reply.
"Hello. We are travelers, searching for some of our... friends. Could you help us?" Medes asked.
"Yes, they are, my friend. Truly, all children are a miracle." he murmured as he followed her into the woods.
-----
As the great form of the grasslord scuttled from the tree line, several of the humanoids, constantly on alert for inevitable attacks by skimmers, started crying out, alerting the village. Four of them stepped forth, placing themselves before the chitinous form, three holding simple spears and wicker shields while the fourth went to one knee and clasped his hands together, causing a very faint blue aura to surround him.
One of the spear wielders, older by appearance, if the grey appearing in his once dark brown fur was any indication, stood taller than the rest, keeping his spear carefully trained on the beast, and he chattered something in a language the grasslord did not understand. Pausing as if waiting for a response, he spoke something else, apparently in another language, waiting for a response.
After noting no response to either of the announcements, the one on his knee murmured something else and reached a hand out, touching the elder briefly, before returning his hands to their clasped positions.
This time, when the leader spoke, his words became understandable. "Why have you come here. and what is it you desire, mighty beast?"
Actually, this hurts quite alot. Not sure I like it, but it is better then bleeding I guess.
Umbart's words were flat and had no passion. Idlely the god picked at then gems in his side and let a few more falls to ground.
Actually, I had just asked this lady her name when I think my heart stopped. It is then new one that Harken built for me. Not sure it was up for the task.
Anyway I built a new one, it should be out in the forge. Once this is dealt with I should really go a find out what Maximillion and Sheba are doing. They seemed to be argueing about something a a little while ago.
Turning to face the newest god in the room,
Who are you?
Outside Wenet
Maximillion pounded the door and shook the whole mountain, yet he could not get in.
Come out Come out where ever you are.
As he knocked on the door his growing rage was personifed and grew. Soon a small gang or orcs was standing there with him all howliing at the door in berserk rage.
You better come out, or the whole mountain will come down.
As thier fury grew so did thier numbers, soon a whole hoard of orcs surrounding the entire mountain.
0/9pp
-1 PP nourish orcs: a new group of orcs is formed from the exarchs rage. They have none of the honor or control of the orginal group.
The Mother would have agreed with the Aaviz, but frankly she was a little miffed that he insisted on accompanying her when she most likely needed some time alone... no matter, she could simply ignore him, and focus on the wonders of the Children around them.
She found them soon enough, preferring to say in the shadows and watch from afar rather than head straight in and introduce herself for now. These were the Aavizs Children, she had no right intruding upon them without his permission. Hm, she wondered if that was hypocritical considering her relation to the Troinats? Perhaps so... but it was of no matter. She knew the Aaviz, she knew not whoever had birthed her adopted Children.
My, the Aaviz had been right... these new spider children of his were wondrous! To think that they combined the sentience of their own kind with the natural ways of the spider so.. flawlessly! Her Children were... exaggerated. They took on forms of their natural counterparts, but they did not truly embrace them, instead merely taking on the appearance of such. These Children though seemed to be in perfect balance with themselves, insect and humanoid working together in two halves of the same whole. And they wielded magic that was strange to the Mother... her Trilobites knew of the psiconic way, but this seemed altogether different.
"Aaviz, what is.." the Mother began to ask.. before gasping. One of the spider folk had taken the form of a humanoid! One rather like the Queen in fact! Well no, the hair was a different color, and some parts were smaller or bigger... she still had no idea what purpose such parts held however. But the spider seemed to be able to change shapes as such at will!
"The Aaviz, what manner of gift is this?" the Mother asked. "Your Children seem to be able to change shape at will! Where did they learn such a thing? Or find a shape to change to?"
*********
The Grasslord chirped in dissatisfaction. These... things seemed fairly hostile. He was strong, and could likely kill them all, but if he did so he would have nothing left to rule. Perhaps a better option would be try to worm his way into their midsts, before taking them by force once he fully understood how they worked...
"I have come our of curiosity, nothing more," the Grasslord lied. "I have long seen your kind from a distance, and have decided to see what you are like for myself... and I am no beast, furred one," the Grasslord chirped somewhat heatedly. "I am a Grasslord, destined to rule all that lives in the grasslands of our world. And beyond that, I am the great Grasslord Vedernorialshingorianaw, winner of countless battles and ruler of countless miles of grass. And you would be?"
-----
As the leader translated the words to his kin, spears lowered slightly, though the one figure remained crouched down.
"I am Cer, of the Kri clan. I speak for this village in matters of leadership, when it is necessary. If only curiosity brings you here, then we welcome you to come among us and partake in our food and shelter, though I fear we have no shelters great enough for a being of your size. We are not miserly with that which Aaviz has given us."
"Oh I see," the Mother replied, somewhat disappointed. So, none of these forms actually existed beyond his strange dreams then... a shame. And the spider folk seemed to be more attracted to themselves in their spider form than they were to themselves when they were shifted in form... as such, watching them wouldn't give her any idea what humanoids found beautiful!
She should not have gotten her hopes up that Aavizs summon would so easily lead to her new goal... and she should not be upset, he had shown her a marvelous thing after all. "So none of these forms bar the original spider ones exist in this world?" she asked.
**********
What was that strange person doing crouched down? Were they supplementing themselves before his superior strength and majesty? If they were, he rather liked it... he decided to leave them alone for now and focus on the leader.
"I need no food and shelter, but would gladly take your hospitality and learn more of your people," the Grasslord replied graciously, chirping a little as it thought. "I must ask though, when is it NOT necessary to have someone in charge?" The concept of only having a leader speak in matters of importance occasionally and not whenever they willed was... foreign to the beast.
"Then goodbye my brother," murmured the Queen, raising her arms up, palms to the sky, "I shall be... around..."
And as she spoke, a gentle breeze swept through the clearing, and the Queen with her arms up felt it tickle her skin and tousle her hair. She let the breeze wash over her and she worked to really feel it, feel the breeze, what it was about, where it was going, and where it came from. By slowing her breath she came to know the breeze, and in one single instant, she was the breeze, dancing through the skies, just godstuff blown by and easterly wind. Just specks of shining dust in the rushing air.
South of the Triskellion, Nedjiba
Sensation as he had never known it bubbled over Nedjiba like a harsh current in a raging river. It tossed him about, plunged him down and thrust him up. Between flashes of orange and purple and green, he could see his hands, melting before his eyes. Colours flickered there too, on his skin as he fought to separate what was real and what was fake. He supposed it didn't matter anymore, as he was pulled down once more, blacking out completely.
The term blacking out is actually somewhat innapropriate in this case. What he saw was most certainly not black. A kaleidoscope of colours flashed across his brain, without rhyme, pattern, or reason. He was lost in the sheer madness of it, for as he saw every colour, so too did he feel every sensation. He was growing, and shrinking, and burning and screaming. But through it all was something better, something exquisite. He felt... free. For the first time is his life, Nedjiba Sedjem felt free. He suddenyl found he had a control over the things he saw and felt. He could feel whatever he wanted, be whatever he wanted. A picture coalesed from the colours of a girl, no older than four or five. It was Nefrew, as he always remembered her, as he had never seen her. This was a Nefrew untouched by the curse of the Bahenet, a Nefrew free to live, to age, and to be whatever she wanted. He smiled, and so did she.
"Nef.." spoke Nedjiba, finding he had a voice.
"No," said the girl sadly, "I am not your sister."
The image flickered and danced and once more sensation and colour washed over Nedjiba. He fought it down in order to concentrate.
"Then who are you?" he asked.
"I am the one who will set you free Nedjiba," she said, but her voice was fading now, the tea's effects wearing off, "I will save you from the harsh rule of Itja-Rek, life doesn't have to be this way, I can show you another way."
As she began to fade completely, all colour draining from her, all sensation draining from him, Nedjiba called out, "But who are you, tell me your name!"
Her final words echoed out as she faded away, "I am... a mother... of sorts..."
And then Nedjiba blacked out, for real this time.
South of the Triskellion, Nefrew
Nedjiba had blacked out completely. The strange beast had carried them to a distant hillock, and deposited them on the grass. It was twilight now, and Mani cast a purple glow over all creation, painting the sleeping Nedjiba with her light as the teal-green grass tickled his face.
Nefrew was wiping her face with her shirt, too scared to even check if her brother was breathing. He looked so peaceful, so... but she could not let her mind go there, not now. The writhing and the twisting of shapes and hues had stopped, but the stillness scared her most of anything. Burying her head in the beast's great big flank, she whispered a low prayer to her lord and master, Itja-Rek.
"Please Time, save my brother, please..."
The Reaper saw the small army that awaited her and realized that there was no chance for the naga to get their gift if she could not leave the mountain. She reached into her satchel and took out the flask of divine power, throwing it on the ground and shattering it. The ceramic broke and the juice flowed over the snowy mountain, flowing down the sides in a paradoxically large torrent. Slowly, the snow took on definition as the liquid flowed around the small depressions that marred the surface of the mountain. Eventually, large, tall shapes appeared, muscular and covered in show-white hair.
At once, hundreds of eyes opened and the entire side of the mountain appeared to stand up. What little snow remained was barely enough to be called a light dusting as the Yetis marched downwards to meet the threat that was marching up to storm the tunnel. At the center was The Reaper, howling and brandishing the weapon. Let that puny man react to THIS.
~The Spire~
"The Forge? What is the forge?" Itja-Rek asked.
He then heard something in the edge of his mind... they prayer of a Bahenet who was far from home. His mind followed the prayer back, speaking quietly in the mind of his follower.
"I hear you, Child. What has happened to your brother, and what brings the two of you so far from home all alone?"
[sblock=PP]
1 PP (from Distillery): Spawn Beasts(lesser); Yeti live on Wenet and are very territorial. They are NOT intelligent.
[/sblock]
Nefrew gasped as she felt Time itself speak to her. The words were formed in such a way that, though it was not direct speech, she just knew in her heart of hearts what her god wanted from her, what he wanted her to do and to say. It was quite remarkable. Hardly breathing, she spoke into the fur of the beast, feeling somewhat silly. Her method of communicating seemed downright primitive next to His.
"I-We ran away from home, my brother and I, but-but now he's s-sick and I... I don't know what to do..."
The last part was a frightened whimper, for she daren't even reveal it to herself, let alone the almighty Itja-Rek. She hoped she would not be deemed unworthy.
Bowing his head low as Aaviz and the mother departed, He quickly found himself alone again, and somewhat bored..... "And I wanted to.....oh! never mind." Flying back through the veil, he wonders whats going on in the world. Liking that part of the world, he flies to sairok again, this time over towards the mushroom forest to see if anyone is home.
The Dragonborn Caravan~
A few days after leaving the halflings and the twins, Pollux and the dragonborn find themselves at a shoreline. Moving along it for another few more days, they come upon a vast field bordered on one side the shore line and on the other a great vast forest. Deciding that this would be a good place to call home, the dragonborn get to work building their village. After a few weeks of work, some of the houses where built, and the dragonborn have found their home. They named this little village Arkhosia.
The dragon duo~
The dragons finally finished talking just as the dragonborn get settled. Seeing that the dragons get ready to go home, when they recieve a summons to a cave in the summit of the largest mountain in the waltzing mountains. The copper not getting one, decided on curiousity to check out what the twins are up to and head towards the triskellion.
Itja-Rek probed gently the status of her myriad souls.
"Child." The voice said with some urgency. "Your mind is very close to Crowding. You must undergo Severance, and soon. Your brother..." Nefrew felt the god's mind leave her's for a moment and saw her brother twitch once. Then the presence was back, once more speaking without words directly to her.
"He has time, but he has been touched by another Goddess, one who is... no friend to the Bahenet or to myself." The words almost sounded... wistful... at that statement, but Nefrew was certain she must have mistaken it. "I shall attempt to awaken him, Child, but you must return home, and quickly. The Crowding will grow stronger quickly, and you are far from the appropriate place of Severance. Run, child. Run. I sense some others of your kind searching for you to the north."
Once more the presence left her, and she saw her brother's body jerk once, twice and then stop moving, color slowly returning to his cheeks.
~Halfling-Ogre village~
The villagers were wholly unhelpful. Yes, they confirmed that the children had been here and had survived the battle, and that they had left just yesterday, but as to their destination, they said nothing. A'nenat had spent most of the day searching around the village for signs of the children's tracks, but beyond the tracks leading into the village, there was nothing.
As he made one more circuit of the village, his mind was suddenly filled with a voice, a voice of a God.
"A'nenat. Child. Your missing Children have gone south, past the great Triskelion. Hurry. The girl is very soon going to undergo Crowding, and if she is not back in time, she may be lost forever."
The presence left, but in its place an... afterglow... remained, one which waxed and waned in strength as he turned.
He quickly found Medes, and relating the story of how the God had spoken to him, they set off, following the compass that had been placed in A'nenat's mind.
-----
"We have little need of leadership in our day to day lives. I am mostly called upon only to deal with outsiders and mediate disputes between clans."
~Sea of Eden, Egg Horde~
If the water-god had a nose, he might have smelled the tang of the salty sea breeze rising up from below, which brought with it moisture. He could feel the water in the air, though, and it helped him relax. Water always was comforting. Certainly, not like fire.
"Ah, hello, hello," Harkon said to the Syreene-y Sonnet-y person, his mouth bobbing in his waters happily. It paused. "Um... sorry, I thought you were someone else? Or... just one someone?" The lord of waters hadn't actually been around for one of the fey-gods gender changes before, and was thus confused by the duality before him.
"Anyways, suppose that's neither wish or wash. I had just felt some gods enter the sea here and was curious. It isn't often that I get guests here. The Hive has its comings and goings, well enough, but most gods seem to spend their time down yonder." The god's tail pointed up, to the sky and the other half of the world beyond.
Both his eyes moved to look around the god, though they moved in opposite directions and distorted the shape of Harkon's head. "Are you guarding that gooey boulder mound thingy?"
~Outerdark, Nihilian Settlement~
The mindflayer sat lounging in his study, books of all sorts filling shelf after shelf until the walls themselves were hidden. A green light came from odd lanterns hung around the room, their fires burning unnaturally. On the table before him, however, was not a book, or chart, or scroll, or any other object that one would expect to occupy a scholar’s attention in his study. It was a plate, atop which was a curious foody substances, a greenish yellow fluffy dish. Mjoln found his old master there.
“Ah, butler, I have been wondering where you had gone off to. You’ll have to be punished, of course; I had to bring in my own breakfast.” The Ilithid motioned towards the plate in front of him.
“Where’s my child,” the Drahken said. There was no use pretending to be servile to this one anymore, he knew what they had planned.
“Your child? You don’t have a child. There is Nihilian property, of course, but that is a different matter all together,” the master said with a cloy flicker of his tendrils.
Mjoln snarled his response
“Now now there, butler, there is no need to get upset. Your punishment will only fit your crimes, no more. Why don’t you have that she-Drahken show herself as well? She’ll need to be punished, too.”
Yrm came in from the opposite doorway, her bright eyes locked on the mindflayer.
“There we are… Hmm… you’re the Councilor’s maidservant. You really should have known better. And you,” the master fixed Mjoln with a glare, “do know better. I specifically told you that you were not to mate.”
The master rose up and approached the dark figure of his butler. “Am I not a good master? I do not put you to work in the fields, where your kind can expect a short life. I do not beat you unnecessarily, I allow you a half hour each day to yourself, and this is your repayment? I told you I did not wish to have my house tangled in such unpleasant… things.”
“We’ve come to take back our child,” Yrm said, her voice strong as steel.
Rounding on her, the Ilithid’s voice rose. “We’re you listening? There is no ‘your child.’ No one, not even your masters, are allowed to take what is not theirs.”
With a pause the mindflayer stood up straighter and smoothed his clothing. He took a deep breath before calling out, “Guards, I am done with these two.”
They waited, but nothing happened. “Guards?”
Mjoln stepped towards his old master. “They will not be able to help you.”
“Impossible, there were too many…”
Ymr began to advance on the creature. “Too many for just us to deal with, but you forget, you squids always forget. Drahken take care of their own.”
Shadows began to form in the darkness beyond the green light. Slaves, some bent with hard labor, others showing numerous scars from their beatings, began to file into the room. Actual terror entered the master’s eyes.
“I will only ask once again,” Mjoln said. “Where is our child?”
A peace came over the mindflayer. He was going to die, he accepted that. “Would you care for something to eat?”
The black-scaled Drahken was confused by the offer. His old master pointed to the dish of food on the table. It clearly wasn’t brain moss or sweet meat. “It is a delicacy, I assure you. I found talk of it in one of my books, from before Nihilian sank. The light-walkers had a name for it… now what was it…”
He feigned forgetfulness for a moment. “Ah yes, they called it scrambled eggs.”
***
The Nihilian high council found itself besought on all sides. In every settlement across their nation slaves were rising up.
1PP Guide Populace: Nihilian – the slaves are revolting… they’re rebelling, too.
0PP left.
"Oh really?" the Mother asked, disappointment fading. Hm, it was rather inconsiderate of him to lock away an entire race of Children... but if he had created the more lithe humanoids as well, perhaps she had a hope after all! "And where would you have put these... lithe ones?" she asked.
*************
Little need of leadership? How obscene! How could they go about their day to day lives without submitting themselves to a superior being? All races that were not Broodlords had been made to serve! Even if they did not serve a Broodlord, surely they could at least revel over the power they had over one another?
"I see," the Grasslord replied, hiding his befuddlement. "So you all simply... mill about doing whatever you wish unless there is some danger about?" This would not do at all! Even if he hadn't already been intending to enslave them, he'd do so now on general principle anyway! "Well to each their own," he continued diplomatically. "I must ask though, if no-one is in charge, what is stop one of these warriors," he gestured a large head segment at a spear man. "From simply taking so? I would suppose a lot of other warriors to bring down any who would do so, but what if this warrior had allies, or was particularly powerful?"
-----
"Yes, each of use is free to pursue whatever activities they would prefer. As to your second question, I would suppose there is nothing stopping one of them from trying to take charge. But, I would assume that such desires are tempered by a respect for the elders, who placed me in this position of leadership. Further, one who was so rash and arrogant as to believe he had the right to be in charge would face opposition from all of the clans, even his own."
"But then, such discussion is theoretical only. I know none of my kin who would desire the burden and responsibility of leadership. Even I do not wish it, but bear it only by the request of the elders, who beleive I am worthy of it."
"Gooey... mountains?" Sonnet (for the god was fully ensconced in the Sonnet persona by this time) asked.
"You mean the piles of eggshells?" For already the Kyrion had hatched. The strongest Kyrion Ophion had taken dominance, and was already directing the efforts of the hive into both burrowing into and constructing buildings out of the rocky mesa.
"Behold, the Kyrion. A race the like of which has never before graced any of the myriad worlds."
Beasts of burden? Hm... perhaps he meant like the Broodlings to the Broodlords? Though it was insensitive of him to call Children beasts of all things! The idea of taming animals had never actually occurred to the Mother, so 'beasts of burden' was an odd turn of phrase.
Hm, did she want him to show her? It was a little embarrassing to have him hanging about while she was looking for ways to change her form, and having him around when she would no doubt be spying in a great deal more detail would be even more so... well, she supposed she could just leave and come back. "Indeed, I would like to see these elves," the Mother told him.
-------------
The Elders? It seemed there was another level of leadership going on here! And no doubt the Elders would be far more powerful than these younger ones... perhaps it was best to try and kill all the birds around with a single stone?
"I would very much like to meet these... Elders of yours," the Grasslord told him, rejecting his comments on people not wishing to bear the burdens of leadership as mere drivel.
Murmuring happily to himself about legendary swords, explosive machines, and doom bots, Aaviz quickly marched off through the woods, leading Mother to the lands of the elves.
-----
"Meeting the elders would be quite difficult, I'm afraid. Most are very old, and have difficulties walking round their own homes, much less come together for a meeting. Almost all are reliant on younger clan members bringing them food and helping out with cleaning and repairs. I suppose, if you wished, I could ask each of them for permission to bring you to them though."
The trackers were coming. They didn't run. They didn't try to escape. They knew their journey had come to its close. Why bother to fight it? Nejiba was to weak, Nefrew had given up. There was no wondrous land the find at the end of the road, no shining paradise to call home. Just this. Just life. One where you can keep running until you don't know where you're going or who you're running from. Or one where you can just sit and accept the bad with the bad and the good with the good, as each comes to you in time. The Twins chose to sit. And wait.
The beast stayed with them as they waited, watching over them, guarding them from perils that never came. Nefrew liked to think he stood against the darkness, the shadows pressing in all around. The shadows of a future they knew was coming.
Nedjiba would fight, some day, Nefrew knew that. He could never be satisfied with that world, the world of restrictions and limits. But today he chose Nefrew. Today he chose her happiness. way back before this trip, he may have chosen himself, chosen to run and never stop. He couldn't do that now. He could only wait with his sister.
They came at daybreak on the third day of waiting. Perhaps they had come directly here, drawn by the divine link of their god. The Twins would never know. The Twins would never care. And in just a short time, they would be home, dressing in the formal vestments of their Severance, awaiting oblivion, awaiting an end to the world as they knew it, and end to the world as they had always and forevermore known it. And they accepted it. They accepted it for one single reason. Because Nedjiba chose, now and forever, Nefrew.
Schi'vya woke up with a haze in her eyes. She looked terrible-- her legs and arms were weak, and her form started to drift everywhere like a ghostly mist. She got up to find herself in a room-- separate from where Itja-rek and the other two gods were in. She had no clue how she had got in here. Her mind was congested with racing thoughts and bouts of pain erupted from everywhere. It was as if something was trying to rob her of her energies. Then something clicked. A flash of white light grew in her mind, erasing the chaotic thoughts, erasing the pain, erasing the fear. Her thoughts became more uniform and her form came back into her essence. A speck of her essence fell down to the floor and it twisted and turned. The winds coalesed into a single identity almost like herself. She looked up at the featureless being in awe-- it looked almost like her. The being's outer form turned into a tan, flesh-like color, white robes with golden highlights formed from the wind current came into shape, and the being's face started to grow gray strands of hair from its lower chin. It carried some kind of book on its right hand.
Schi'vya was amazed that this being was formed right in front of her own eyes. The being glowed with divine energy. She had witnessed the creation of another deity. Unlike her last trouble, this one cleared her mind, made her think, made her happy. She smiled toward the other deity and stood up. She smiled with deep harmony and bowed.
Current PP
Base: 0/9
Combat: 1/1
[Godspire]
"Tag Xeadin"
Arknai smiles and bows as well.
"I am Arknai Thern, bringer of peace. A pleasure to meet you."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Arknai opens his tome, waving his hand over it. Writing begins to fill in a blank page.
Those born of the fallen souls of warriors and evil beings, given a chance for redemption under a new form. The Revenant, emmisaries of peace.
"Children, I beseech thee. Come together, and spread the words of peace. I have imparted upon you a tool to do so."
Arknai waves his hand once more, and The Revenant begin to form their nation, west of Triskellion. The city has two main roads, crossing to from the cities namesake, The crossroads.
"I have taught you a ritual. It allows you to bind laws into the souls of the participant, allowing them to form powerful treaties. You must speak the laws word for word, then seal it by writing your name as well as that of the treaty on the participant, in your blood. Those that foresake the law will lose their soul."
3PP Create race - The Revenant: Born of the dead warriors and other less than peaceful members of other races. These souls have been given a chance to change their ways, and bring peace where they once wrought destruction.
2PP Guide Nation - The Crossroads: A nation west of triskellion. It is a city whose two main roads form major points of travel.
2PP Teach Populace - The Ritual of Soulbond Laws: A Ritual performed to bind laws to the souls of a sentient race. Used to ensure treaties are kept. If the treaty is violated, the violator's soul is removed from it's body. Cannot be performed on Gods.
'He spoke.' Schi'vya looked down towards the ground and crossed her arms behind her. It was something she hadn't thought about, not since she just saw this divine being appear right in front of her. 'But oh, how he looks marvelous in that white robe of his. He reminds me of that one wizard deity-- only he had a darker colored robe, and was a little more rude than this one.'
"I..." She stumbled upn what to say back. She saw the figure's lips move in fluent symphony as he read something from his book. "I am Schi'vya, Lord of the Four Winds." She thougt about something else to say to the deity. "What is it you're reading that out of.. err...?" 'Name... He must have a name... something to identify himself by. Oh, how I'm bad with coming up with names on my own...' Schi'vya contemplated with herself in her thoughts. Everything was more clear to understand. It was as if his sudden appearance had purified her of her horrors.
"Oh, this? It's a tome that keeps track of records, treaties, races, things like that. And you may call be Arknai. If you don't mind me asking, where am I?"
Arknai Thern looks around, attempting to gather in his surroundings. He sees his children have begun work on their city.
"My children, you shall be known as the revenant. You are to have 3 Castes. The Protectors, responsible for keeping peace throughout your city. The Speakers, in charge of diplomatic relations within the race, and with the other races of the world. And the Binders, whose tasks are to perform the ritual of Soulbound Laws, to keep records, and to bind new souls to the world. This is an important task, and is performed in the temple. You must listen for the calls of the souls, and answer allowing them to take form at the Altar. The Altar will be circular, and in the center of The Crossroad."
Schi'vya moved behind him and glanced over his shoulder at the pages of the tome, which words and symbols were being drawn and moved and organizing themselves in some fashion that came to look like a set of written laws or instructions. "Oh, wow." She gazed at the parchment pages in great awe. "Such magnificent tome full of knowledge. I've never seen anything like it."
the dragons meeting~
All of the elder dragons have gotten together to debate on forming a counsel and on developing magic use..... the debate rages on for years.
Arkhosia village~
The dragonborn village has been built up. People go out to fish regularly. Trade stores and lumberworks have begun as well as a smithy. Life for the dragonborn starts to return to normal and people begin to live normal lives again.
Arknai waves his hand again, and more writing begins to fill the pages.
"Children, I am writing your laws. You are never to be aggresors to any war. You are to facilitate trade and alliances between the native races. You must never harm each other. You may never exploit another race. And you must honor all treaties you create. Your word is worth more than gold, and to betray anothers trust is a crime most heinous."
Arknai smiles, and hands the tome to Schi'vya.
"You may look. So what do you think of my creation? I hope they can perform the tasks set forth for them."
When Arknai asked about her races, she perked up with a slight bout of glee. "Why, of course I do. I call them my children-- Air Elementals. Based off of my physical and magical traits. I am the one who cntrols the air currents, so they follow the path that takes them to wherever my winds carry them." She stops hovering in midair and slowly glides back down to the ground, beside Arknai. "That reminds me... I haven't seen them in quite a while. I had almost forgotten about them completely. They must be worried about me. Excuse me for a moment..."
She turns and opens the door to the chamber where Itja-rek, Umbart and Karak resided. "Oh hello. Sorry, I need to check up on something. I'll be right back..." She headed up the Godspire with such speed that the wind current that trailed behind her sucked out the smoke that was beginning to fill up the Godspire. She burst out from the deep cavern and found herself above the land of Korias once again. She breathed in new air. "Ahhh... It's nice to be out in the open air again." She floated near one of the Waltzing Mountains, unaware that Astriluxus was sitting in wait on it.
The Mother followed the Aaviz... there... really isn't much more to say about the matter.
--------------
They... they TENDED to their LAME?? What's more, they respected them as leaders? This was... madness! The lame should be thrown down, their wealth and land taken, their bodies consumed for sustenance!
However... if they truly were lame and weak... and these villagers did have such a high respect for them...
"Oh, just meeting one will do perfectly," the Grasslord chirped. "I'm more curious about what these 'Elders' look like than I am in meeting them all! Curiosity is what led me here in the first place after all."
At the edge of the SunshroudMountains, atop the mottled black tower of Arx Inimicus, the God of Fate sat brooding in its sanctum. Much had happened in the short amount of time since he had raised the tower and populated the area around it with bloodthirsty kruthiks. Its knowledge of the world had increased exponentially; it knew all of the gods by name, though had yet to meet any of them.
In truth, it had no desire to. It was quite comfortable by itself, and looking upwards towards the sky, saw the new phenomenon that had intrigued it for the past few weeks. Shortly after it had raised the tower, Inimicus had begun to notice thin ephemeral strands of light floating aimlessly about, seemingly connected to nothing. The first time it had touched one, the God of Fate was treated to a vision of every possible life and death of a small rabbit creature with a flower for its tail. It had touched another strand, and saw the same manner of vision with a rock. Flowers, humans, even bacteria, Inimicus saw many things. The strands were the only source of entertainment it had, though. Inimicus wanted to see if it could affect the strands, change them. It turned its attention outside its spire, extending its consciousness to survey the lands around. It saw more of the rabbit creatures and strange elemental beings wandering around the mountain ranges north of the spire. It was not until Inimicus saw the draconic outcasts that its interests were truly piqued. The ephemeral strands gathered around their group, forming a mass of shimmering possibility. “So many avenues to greatness yet only one can come to fruition, and blindly at that,” the God of Fate mused. Whatever path they chose, their actions would have far reaching consequences for the world.
Inimicus settled into his throne and turned his consciousness inward. These “dragonborn” had a sovereign god. Affecting their fates without the notice of the one called Astriluxus would be difficult. Perhaps building a rapport with the dragon god would be the best course of action. The God of Fate extended his consciousness to its maximum, and sent a mental message out to all who listened.
“I seek Astriluxus.”
Noting the two unusual members of the expedition, he frowned. "Odd, I wonder what that cetana girl is doing here. Must have followed Yantra when I told him to come here." Pointing to the great metal golem sitting quietly nearby, he nodded. "That one over there would be another creation of mine. I imbued hiom with a bit of divine spark. Quite painful, I must say."
-----
"As you wish," he nodded. "Feel free to rest here, and I will see if one of the younger elders would like to come meet with you."
He had barely even turned around when another figure approached from the village, his hair snow white with age. The new arrival spoke slowly to those already here for several moments before the crouching one reached out and touched him, imparting the elder with a faint blue glow of his own. Looking at the mighty grasslord before him, he started slowly. "Welcome, mighty one. It is an honor to have you curious about our people. I admit, I am curious about your own, having seen one of your kind from a great distance once before in my youth."
And so it was that nearly a week later, A'nenat and Medes found the two wayward children camped in the bend of a small stream that flowed from the lake that surrounded the Godspire. Nefret still looked quite pale, with his sister tending him as they rested, and initially the two trackers, watching from a nearby hill, thought that it was Nefret that was near to Crowding. However, upon further examination, the trackers began to notice small things about the way Nefrew carried herself from moment to moment, how her voice would sometimes leap ahead of itself and at other times slow to a crawl and how, every so often, she would switch her dominant hand from left to right. To any but a Bahenet, it would appear that she was just giving one hand or the other a break, but the timing of the shifts in behavior and their own personal experiences (for after the first Severance, they were encouraged to feel the Crowding before petitioning for their next) dispelled all doubt from their mind.
"Well, thanks to that compass that our god gave you, even if they run we should be able to find them." Medes said to his partner.
"True, but I really do not want to have to actually carry screaming and kicking children home all this way." A'nenat replied. Medes grunted in assent as the two picked themselves up and made their way down towards the children...
~A week later~
It had been surprisingly easy to convince them when all was said and done. As it turned out, they were looking for their own trackers. Or at least Nefrew was, having spoken to the God herself. Nefret had remained slightly dazed the entirety of the trip... Nefrew had explained, hastily and all at once at first, but eventually with clarity, that he had been drugged by strange beings that lived in a forest of mushrooms, but that they had been--- It was really more than he could take in, especially considering the relative blandness of their own. The children were happy to know that the ogres and halflings had begun to rebuild, and asked with some urgency if they had seen the dragon-people.
Today, they would reach Bahetshep again, and it could not come soon enough. A glassy-eyed daze had begun to creep into Nefrew's eyes as she walked, and she talked in her sleep. Shouted, argued, even. It was time for her Severance, and it could not be delayed more than a few days.
Why, these elves were perfect for her cause! Though all that was thrust to the side at the moment as the Aaviz went on about their horses. He had created beasts for nothing more than to serve his Children? She had never even considered that! It seemed a little cruel in theory, but if the animals were happy with their lot in light, it was hardly so... and she could see the practicality of it, especially considering the elves lack of carapaces, mandibles, or anything else that could help them survive.
"Indeed... I never thought of anything like this before!" the Mother exclaimed. "I would claim you were a genius because of it, if I did not know you only gave light to your dreams of another world." Or memories, but the Mother still wasn't completely sure on any of that... surely he and the Dragon had seemed to know each other, but...
The Mother looked when he gestured to the exarch, letting off some thoughtful pheromones. "I think I have someone rather like him myself," the Mother admitted. "Though not nearly so cold or metallic, and the started as a Child before I ascended them to a Mother among Children, and a Child amongst Mothers. I did not think to actually make it so they could move around though, his purpose is to look after the Hive and all its inhabitants after all..."
---------
Was this the Elder? He was but a feeble man! Admittedly less feeble than one would have been lead to believe, but in any case...
Right, well it was time to end this charade. Vedernorialshingorianaw craved power, and rankled at having to be 'nice' to these inferior beings just so he could get in a position to dominate them.
Not even bothering to reply to the Elders comment, one of his two implation tentacles shot out, wrapping itself around the white haired man before lifting him into the air, the sharpened point pressed threateningly against his temple. When a spear man moved to try and attack, his other tentacle struck faster than though, impaling then retracting from the spear man so fast that if you blinked you'd missed it.
"Enough game!" the Grasslord boomed. "From this day forth, there WILL be a leader in this village, and it will be me! Unless you want anything to happen to your precious Elder, hm?"
They were to do it together, the ritual, bound side-by-side to the altar. The bindings, the priests said, were for their own protection, to prevent them hurting themselves. They eyes shut tight, holding each other's hand, they waited for it to be over, tried to forget what was happening. Nefrew thought forward to what would happen to her, to them, after the Severance, as Nedjiba thought back to times long gone. He wanted them to be the same, the two of them, wanted them to remain Twins. And so he whispered, beneath his breath.
"Just one soul, just one."
They tightened the ropes that bound them, checking the knots.
"One soul, just one soul."
He could hear the knives, cold metal sliding against stone.
"One, just one."
He could feel the blade tap above his head, his scalp prickled. And the the hands, which flexed, and finally the feet and between the legs.
"One soul."
Seeming to let is pass, he nodded. "Yes, I suppose one could do such a thing for a mortal, but then, none of mine have proven worthy of such power. Perhaps some time in the future they will be, but for now, they are not. As for yours, could not he protect them better if he were able to go forth and aid them against dangers from the beyond?"
---------
The grasslord, confident in his power, never even suspected the truth. Even before the elder has spoken, the crouching figure have woven two quick signs with his hand, setting a trap that was sprung even as Vedernorialshingorianaw struck out. Certainly, to those looking on, he appeared most foolish when the form of the elder within his tentacles vanished in a cloud of fine mist, leaving behind only a large log. The illusion broken, he could now see the form of the elder fleeing at a measured pace back towards the settlement, calling out an alarm as he hobbled along. The three other figures below him immediately began attacking, spears stabbing out.
His trap sprung, the vineaza rose from his crouch and leapt away, gaining a short distance between him and the grasslord before resuming his previous posture, the faint blue glow returning around him.
With the sudden call in the air, he jerks his head side to side looking to where it might have come from....."To whom that calls to me, I am here. Join me on the highest point of the mountains that dance in the air if you wish to talk."
Shaking his head, he returns back to Schi'vya, "Sorry about that. I guess someone else wants to join as well! See I knew I had a good spot!"
The slave rebellion was marching on the Nihilian capital. Alkerzilak, who had melded with an orionid after the destruction of one of his bodies at the hands of the mist creature, and the newly-appointed members of the High Council were at a loss as to how to stop them. Ur, on the other hand, knew exactly how to turn back the former slave-beasts. She led the High Councilors in a series of rituals while the rebels slept. Ur then planted several thoughts in the drahkens' minds through their dreams. These thoughts so terrified the rebels that most of them ran back to their former masters, screaming, and begged the ilithids to accept them as their servants, once again. The few that stayed were quickly consumed/enthralled by the ilithids in the capital. This further weakened the resolves of those who fled. And so, for the Nihilians, life returned to normal. . .
SECRET: Outerdark
. . . except for Alkerzilak. He had tasted the power that he could wield over the minds of others through dream manipulation, and he was intent on using it to subtely increase his power outside of Nihiliath's borders. He and the other members of the Academy of the Flayed Mind began using the rituals to mold the minds of the young on the surface, placing Hulnan ideas in their still developing personas.
SECRET: The Warped Court
Kayle woke up in the middle of the night and prepared for the night's work. As she looked at the robe she was to wear this evening, she reflected on how she joined the Guild. As long as she could remember, her dreams had been an inspiration for everything she did. When she was young, this resulted in her lying, stealing, fighting, and otherwise being a nuisance, although eventually she seemed to grow out of it. But she knew the truth- she didn't outgrow those inclinations, she just learned how to cover them up. To the community, she seemed a model citizen and a devoted worshipper of Syreene/Sonnet, but inside, she was a faithful follower of Hulna's teachings. Through her dream- guides, she knew there were others like her. They met in secret in the woods surrounding the Court. They devoted themselves to honing the psionic powers inherint to the Virago, forming the Guild of the Concealed Thoughts. Eventually, they were guided to take more active measures- murdering, spying and stealing to keep the Court prepared for the emmergence of a Hulnan nation, leaving it ripe for the conquering. Just as she finished her flashbacks, her comrades sent a telepathic message to signal that it was time to go. Kayle quickly donned her robe, grabbed a knife, and crept out the window and into the night.
PP
8/9 PP +1 from Ur
-1 PP (from Ur) Guide Populace: The Drahken slaves are still revolting, but no longer rebelling.
-2 PP Teach Populace: Nihiliath learns the secret of dream manipulation.
-1 PP Guide Populace: The Nihilians mold the developing minds of children of the Warped Court, causing them to worship Hulna.
-2 PP Guide Organization: The Guild of Concealed Thoughts, a group of psionic Hulna worshipping terrorists, forms in the Warped Court.
3/9 PP remaining.
Another pair of murders? The Archfey sighed and rebound the missive. If he could not prevent such atrocities, it seemed the legacy of The Warped Court would be a swift one. Lord Calaxial had been a powerful archfey. That someone could assassinate him was most... unsettling.
~The Triskelion, The Late Lord Calaxial's Manor~
MURDER! The primal spirits lurked, unseen, in a thick circle about the residence. MURDER! They shrieked again, their ethereal cries not even rustling the leaves of the trees.
Again and again, they found their numbers growing. There had never been this many primal spirits in the Triskelion at once before. Then again, there had never been this many murders, either.
As the spirit of Lord Calaxial finally erupted, enraged, from the manor-house, sundered fully from its former flesh, the pack of spirits raced through the woods, screaming and raising a silent cacophony of dissonance. Neck hairs prickled, goosebumps pimpled, bodies shivered, and tentacles twitched.
The tangible dwellers knew naught but that something... disturbing was happening. The forest seemed to be acquiring a menace.
Arx Inimicus ~
A mental message of another sort pierced Inimicus' mind, "To whom that calls to me, I am here. Join me on the highest point of the mountains that dance in the air if you wish to talk."
The God of Fate sank back into his throne, peeved at what could only be the response of Astriluxus. It did not wish to leave its spire, but knew that the only way to get to the dragonborn was through the Dragon God. Lifting itself off its throne in a huff, the blurry figure of the God of Fate faded into nothingness.
Waltzing Mountains ~
Fading into existence, Inimicus was taken aback by the awe inspiring beauty of the floating chain of mountains. It certainly inspired the God of Fate to spruce up its own abode once it returned. Looking around, it noticed more of the ephemeral strands, although these were different. They glowed with a bright gold color and their futures were indecipherable to Inimicus. Intrigued, the god followed the strings until it came upon two creatures resting on top of the tallest mountain. One seemed oddly familiar, its nebulous figure whipped about by the winds. The other was undoubtedly the dragon god Astriluxus.
Unsure of how to address its fellows, Inimicus approached cautiously.
“Astriluxus, I presume? Who is this?” It gestured at the vapid figure next to the dragon god.
“I feel I know this being.”
"Are not memories merely dreams of what has happened once upon a time?" the Mother asked. "They are not real, at least not in the moment after all... if something isn't physical, doesn't that mean it could be but a dream or a whim?"
The Mother thought for a moment. "I suppose doing so might have been wise, but they were dieing... the only thing I could think to do was encase their soul in their shell, which would make it inanimate by design..."
-------------
What was... trickery! Deception! Cowards, to rely on such foolish measures to keep themselves protected!
No matter... that blue glowing one seemed to have something to do with it, so he'd take care of him first. Turning towards the vineaza, the Grasslord idly flicked his impalation tentacles in a wide arc, knocking the irritating spearmen down, before effortlessly closing the gap between them with a small jump... when a Grasslord jumped high, it came down with snow on it, so the small gap between the two was no effort for the beast as it attempted to crush it under its girth.
Considering all she had said, he shrugged. "SOme dreams are physical, dear Mother. I have seen places where dream themselves rose up and slew their creators, a world where a single mad mage's dreams became reality, sparking a battle that would give rise to a creature that would nearly shatter that world."
-----
The grasslord landed solidly on the vineaza only to groan in agony as it impaled itself on a very sharp log that cracked and shattered under the weight, leaving sharp splinters embedded in the wound. The vineaza, having duplicated his previous trick, clapped his hands together before his mouth and blew with all his might, unleashing a magically conjured blast of flame upon the beast.
Looking down at her and the elvwen boy she had been playing with before the nap, considering the two of them. In his experience so far with the mortal races, limited though it may be, they would learn from him and even accept him as a servant of their god, but they did not enjoy the time spent with him. No, they were fearful of his fearsome and strange appearance and in awe of his status as a divine servant.
Somehow, children were different, their innocence and naivete making them more open and accepting of him, even befriending him. This young girl had even left her home and family to follow him. Closing his eyes to relax, he waited patiently.
-----
Begging the Mother's indulgence for a moment, Aaviz walked over towards Yantra, knocking light on his arm to get his attention. As the golem looked down at him, he floated up to eye level. "Well, Yantra? How goes your tasks?"
Lifting his eyes, Yantra nodded his head. "It goes well, master. The Cetana mastered the skills you asked me to teach them well and are using more complicated tools as you asked, as well as the necessary skills to work with simpler metals. However, I am concerned that such things will not be sufficient for their needs."
Scratching his chin, he looked at Yantra questioningly. "How so? The vineaza should still be keeping the skimmers in check well enough, and there is an assortment of game and edible plants around for them now. What is the issue?"
Yantra nodded. "All that is true, but I encountered an odd creature in my journey north. It spoke only breifly to me, calling itself a grasslord, before attempting to subjugate me. I was forced to kill it. It concerns me though, as the cetana are unlikely to be able to defeat such a creature, even with the aid of their vineazan kin. It was quite powerful."
"I see. You have leave to return to the cetana then and teach them further skills as you see fit. I trust your judgement in this matter, Yantra, until I have time to capture one of these so called grasslord and see what it is capable of. Continuing on, how is your work here?"
"Excellent. The elves are quick studies, and have the horses well tamed and trained. They are also proving quite adept with light blades and the working of simple metals. However, their are proving the most talented with bows and other ranged weaponry. They do not seem preferential to the more agricultural arts, but their ranged weapon skills should allow them to provide for themselves well enough via hunting."
Adjusting his hat, he nodded. "Sounds about right. You will leave immediately then?"
Yantra nodded himself. "Yes, I shall leave soon. As soon as this young one awakens, I will inform them that I am leaving."
Aaviz chuckled for a moment. "Oh yes, I had almost forgot. What is a young cetana girl doing so far from her family and kind?"
Yantra shrugged slightly. "I am not sure. When I left her people, she wished to follow me, and I could think of no reason to stop her. She seems to have quite a bit of potential. Her and this young elf."
"Yes, I can see that. I do beleive that you will have many things to teach them both. Yes, yes," he said, shaking his hand to ward of the golem's question, "the boy is going to follow you too. I will entrust you with this as a secondary task. Teach them as much as they wish to know on any subject they desire. Both have important places in my possible future plans. Anyways, I must be going."
Nodding, he looked at Aaviz questioningly. "Oh? I was under the impression you were not busy."
SHaking his head, Aaviz shrugged. "No, no, I have company. A good friend is visiting and wished to see the elves." With that he walked away, returning to the Mother's side.
"Sorry about the distraction," he said, patting her affectionatly on a leg. "I needed to discuss a few things with my exarch and make sure things were proceeding well. Do you like these elves as well? I'm curious, because I just naturally assumed you would be more interested in mortals more similar to yourself, with exoskeletons and mandibles, and such. I am a fan of them myself, considering their variety of uses and the durability they lend to a creature."
Letting his mind wander as he sat there with her, he looked skyward, staring at the nice bright blue sky, his gaze settling on the Floating Aerie so high above. "You know, it really does make the sky more interesting. Perhaqps someday I'll creat some more like it. Not now though. Nothing interesting to live on it right now, besides dragons, and they prefer their homeland. I really wish Itja-Rek had appreciated those guardians more, instead of brushing them off as worthless and ignoring them. Oh well, he a jerk anyways."
Idly toying with loose stones on the ground, he gathered a handful and threw them into the air, smiling oddly as they transformed, into brilliantly feathered bodies at they began flying away.
3/6+0/1
Inimicus looked up at the dragon, and if the God of Fate had eyes, they would be narrowed. Imperiousness was all about the dragon god, but the odds were not in Inimicus’ favor. Tact was the necessary weapon here.
“You may call me Inimicus. I see I have intruded upon your meeting. I will not stay long. I come merely to inform you of the great potential your spawn possess…”
Inimicus waved its blurred hand nonchalantly in front of the Dragon God. Clouds gathered and formed a shimmering image of a sprawling cityscape. Tiny dragonborn cloud-motes walked and worked within it. Gigantic towers and magically enchanted landforms floated around the perimeter of the city. Beautiful creatures and servants made of wood and steel worked tirelessly to provide the dragonborn citizens with amenities.
Just as the city finally reached the height of activity, the blurred hand of Inimicus swept it away.
“… and of the dire consequences that will arise should their fates be left unattended.”
The clouds in front of Inimicus turned into an image of a gigantic dragon, crackling with lightning and necrotic energy. Just as quickly as the image appeared, it vanished. Inimicus, too, was gone.
Arx Inimicus~
Inimicus almost laughed. It had never considered itself adept at theatrics, but that display would keep them guessing. Settling back into its throne, Inimicus summoned forth its artifact, Arca Nox. It toyed with the black cube, suspending it in the air and sending it spinning. Half the game was waiting. The antics of the other gods would provide entertainment enough. Time was generous to the patient, after all. Inimicus dispelled the black cube to its hiding place.
“Let us see how truly benevolent the gods are to their kin.”
The God of Fate conjured an image of Umbart. Inimicus’ whispery laughter echoed throughout the halls of his tower.
Half the game was waiting.
A comet flashed through the night sky. To the casual observer it may seems as though a burning mountain has fallen out of the sky to streak across it, heading to parts unknown. In such a case, the casual observer would be wrong, as they are so oft to be. The thing was burning, yes, but with the bright light of creation. And this thing certainly was no moutain, plucked from the sky and hurled across the heavens as a pebble aimlessly tossed. No, for one thing, this thing had a purpose, a destination. And for another, this thing was alive.
If one perhaps had super-human sight as well as the ability to part the corona of light surrounding this thing, which the afore-mentioned casual observer definitively does not, one might glimpse the vast bloated body of the newly birthed creature under all that fiery light. As the creature neared the ground, however, and the corona dimmed somewhat, forming more of a cloud of flame and vapour, it became easier to discern, though it's speed still made finer details impossible. Ultimately though, as the saying goes, what goes up must come down. Thus, the bloated form of Thorotrasta came to rest with an earth-shattering crash, in the Sea of Eden, sitting in the Shallows so that the top of its tumourous self peeked above the waterline.
Now that it was perfectly still, the full mass of Thorotrasta could be seen. And it was rather disgusting. At first glance it appeared to be a massive sac of fat, with great pustules and red, inflamed and oozing sores that littered its flanks. Pus leaked from it and slid slowly down its sides to collect in little clouds of pale green around its body. closer inspection revealed that the fold in between two rolls of fat was actually a wide mouth, dripping saliva and flecks of something green that could be congealed vomit down his side to crust over or to seep into the water to mix with the pus. And the two particularly nasty sores above this mouth was actually a pair of eyes nestled in the fat. The lids were almost glued together from sinus gunk and a thick film covered each eye, marking the thing as blind. The thing appeared to be mostly undisturbed by its fall through the heavens, and with a few blinks of his great filmy eyes, he appeared to doze off, a great low sigh escaping his lips as a bubble formed there, and then burst.
PP Expenditures
4 PP Ascend Exarch - Thorotrasta, the Tumour Exarch. Provides Arbitration PP
Still with 6 PP/9 max except for the following players:
Astriluxus and Cruias get 5 (max 8)
Inimicus gets 4 (max 6)
Arknai, as you started yesterday, no PP this week for you.
Worship Percents and Nation Strengths are up. Expect maps to be complete tomorrow as well!
"You are my Guardians..."
~Waltzing Mountains - Astriluxus's Hideout~
The voice of Astriluxus spooked Schi'vya for a bit and she summoned her blade. She caught sight of him and sighed. "OH, it's just you..." She chuckled heartily. "Well, I am certainly glad to see you here. What is it you wish to talk about?"
~Astral Winds~
The elementals gathered around the top of the colosseum and sung songs and phrases of prayer from the sudden result of a nearly imbalanced world that had caused the Astral Winds to shift a little. Once the colossal shifting was over with, the elementals cheered with glee as they knew that she had heard their prayers.
~Triskelion; Soulshard Nation~
The Fire Lords had successfully integrated themselves as part of the nation by becoming heavy lifters. They had built a defense wall out of fallen trees to fortify the nation and expanded on it by making strnger shelters. There were few, but at least they provided a sort of diplomatic feel to them. Mainly the important figures had the better shelters. The numbers of the population grew as well, spreading themselves out amongst each other and creating a small town that housed the great gateway to the elemental's new home. And this was only the beginning...
1pp - Nourish Nation: Fire Elementals have become a part of the Soulshard nation, making them the guardians and heavy lifters of the nation against future attacks.
1pp - Nourish Nation: The nation's numbers drastically increase, as the nation now becomesa small townlike fortress.
Current PP
Base: 0/9 PP
Combat: 1/1 PP
Genesis: N/A
"Its not so much as wanting to talk, as its just wanting some company. Everyone seems to be so busy doing, doing, doing that we haven't decided to just stop and watch for a bit. So, thats what I'm doing. I'm just watching for now. I saw you come out and thought if you'd like to join me on my little perch here. I daresay it is a good view of the world around us too."
"And that was strange... though that one deity's energies felt sort of familiar..." She looked over toward Astriluxus. "You know what I did? I made a deity of my own by detaching part of my essence to let it form into a deity that had a white robe and a book that could chronicle everything from its existence. He's really a great deity, being able to create stuff by using his 'tome.' As a result of his ascension, my mind has become more uniform, more straight. I feel like I can do so much more again."
"I see... As for this deity, not much comes to mind, other than that he did make some sort of race out of fallen warriors or something like that, and he made them obey a specific set of laws that bind their souls... I'm nt completely sure...
"And what I plan to do?" She shook her head side to side. "After the ascension of this certain god, something had occured to me, like I needed mre than just the power of the winds-- like I need to control all four elements somehow, and make them work together in unison, in harmony with each other. Seems like a lot of work, but I have already planted the seeds for this to start.
"So what about you, Astriluxus? What do you plan on doing? I see you have your dragonlings moving south toward the waters." She noticed the smoke coming out from one of the mountain peaks to the north. "And what could be going on down there, do you think?" She pointed toward the trail of smoke.
~Northern Mountains - Fire Elemental Stronghold~
Work was the only thing that came to their mind-- building homes, smithing items and weapons, and searching the surrounding area for the most accessible resources. It would seem like a grueling task for a nrmal humanoid, but the Fire Elementals had no end to their work. In about a days work, the Elementals had made a small stronghold to call home. They had built their homes above the boiling pool of magma below. The heat was their life source; the magma was their tool. They could practically swim through the vicious pool of molten rock like it was water.
---
Schi'vya flew down tward the outer lip of what appeared to be a volcano. A huge hole on the top of the mountain that opened up to a smog-filled maw with glowing, molten rock bubbling at the bttom. Small patches of rock started to cool on the surface, but some of it was easily broken up by the bubbles of the molten soup. She saw various structures line the walls of the volcano near the magma. "What in winds name is this? Does something live down there?"
Something was out of place below the mountains. At the base of the volcano, a small amount of grassland was trampled upon and made a long line across the valley-- towards the Triskelion. "Huh. That's odd... I wonder what did that?"
She flew down to where the trampled grass started. She noticed huge clumps of hardened volcanic rock on top of some of the plants. "Oh, dear. Some of them moved out from their warm enclave and headed down that way." More clumps were barely visible amongst the now-forming tallgrass.
~Sea of Eden, Egg Shell Mound~
Forgetting he had legs, Harkon Armal slid around Syreene to inspect the mound of egg shells. Odd, he hadn’t thought that any but the Mother created things in this manner. “Kyrion?” he said, testing the name out. It was… passable; more watery than some, but hardly watery enough to truly be proper.
Movement elsewhere caught one of his eyes (the other stayed focused on the shells). After a moment the Lord of Waters flowed to examine it. If he had known the names of the creatures, he might have recognized it as being of the Epherim variety of Kyrion. He looked the creature over but visual inspection wasn’t particularly impressive. The specific form was indeed unique, but it had cognates to other creatures in the world.
“They’re interesting, to be sure, but what makes them so special?” he asked.
~Outerdark, Nihilian Nation~
Many Ilithids of Nihilian awoke to a red dawn. In the outerdark there was little light, merely the illumination of the thundering storms overhead and the otherworldly glow of Titan’s Glacier. This morning, however, this morning the outer world seemed to be lit up by a light that was more wholesome on one hand and yet more frightening on the other for it being in such a place. Others, however, did not awaken at all.
It was a rather fortuitous turn of events when the squid-faces began attempting to use their dreams against the Drahken, and perhaps even more lucky that the ilithids were foolish enough to believe that the ploy would work. No dream, certainly none sent by Ur, could compare to the waking hell of being a mindflayer slave, compare to the never ending pain of a proud people being subjugated to such unworthy masters, compare to the constant fear of being made a meal of. But in the wake of the massacre that had resulted from the death of Mjoln’s master, the wrath of the slaves had been set ablaze and had run out of control. These dreams were enough to give the dragonforged pause; they were enough to give Mjoln and Yrm time to gain command of their brethren.
And the dreams provided the perfect opportunity for revenge. The ilithids had taken the rebels back into their homes, into their trust, with hardly a thought. More importantly, they put them back to work in the fields. When life returned to “normal,” when the aberrant creatures once more let their guard down, the rebels, under the leadership of this couple, struck.
Many were killed in their sleep and their homes looted for the basic necessities; normal food, clothing, weapons. Rookeries were broken into and their young packed safely. The rebels hunted through the cities until every last one was found. There were no elderly to worry about, as the Drahken were never allowed to become old, and those who were incapable of traveling asked to be killed rather than left in servitude. En mass the race left Nihilian, along with those few remaining other-kind, the Eladrin and the sort that the mindflayers had captured.
Their way was lit at first by the red dawn. Behind them the fields and storehouses of brain moss were burning out of control. With the deaths caused by the sinking of their lands, and the subsequent massacre, the Nihilians simply didn’t have the numbers to both pursue their slaves and save their crops. At this point, indeed, the slaves nearly outnumbered their masters four to one. For too long the Nihilians had devoted their time to unwholesome study, and not enough time to ensuring the continuation of their kind.
As the day progressed the smoke from the fires seemed to follow the Drahken, settling behind them and obscuring their vision of the remnants of the once mighty nation of Nihilian. The fog also befuddled those few mindflayers who sought to follow the fleeing slaves.
After a few days the slaves came to a great opening in the earth, a pit that seemed to descend into the rock beyond sight. They made to go around it, but the fog, which had been following them, wrapped around them and led them back to the hole. Believing this to be divine guidance, Mjoln and Yrm led the slaves on the treacherous path down, descending at times only by digging deep into the stone with their claws. Many Eladrin were unable to descend themselves and had to be carried on the backs of the dragonforged.
Down they went, past the point where they cried from the pain of their tired limbs, and down further still. Finally, they came to a large cavern, where they rested for a time, recovering from the agonizing descent. Not all had been able to make it, and many bodies of fallen Drahken littered the ground around the base of the cliff that had led up to the surface.
When they moved on, their way was light by two eerie points of red light, surrounded by a mist. Through the veins of the earth they traveled, scavenging what little food there was and trying to make their stores last as long as possible. They slaves became deathly thin, and the weaker ones fell by the wayside, but never once did a single slave regret their path. Better to die under the earth, led by strange lights, than to serve in Nihilian.
For days and weeks they traveled, until the passage of time had no meaning. At last they were led out into a different world, one that no Drahken had ever seen before. They had been led into the light of Sol and the warmth of Sairok.
1PP Guide (from Despair): All slaves in the outerdark flee to the inside, to Sairok.
1 PP Denourish - Nihilian: Brainmoss is destroyed, which will cause mass starvation as the mindflayers can no longer be vegetarians.
5PP +1 from Sol and Mani remaining
Itja-Rek are you still here? I am week and confused. This will not do. Please help me build a new heart for myself.
Wenet
Maximillion and orcs continued to assault the closed doors in pursuit of the naga. Though the yeti's were powerful and forced the orcs to pay a heavy price they did not let up. Maximmillion soon tired of the stalemate and had a better idea. Using hid divine power he called fire to his hands and started a great conflagration. The fire would soon spread to cove the whole mountain, maybe beyond.
The fire started, Maximillion gather up his followers and waited for the yetis to burn. Those that tried to flee would become tonight's dinner. All that was left was to wait, the reaper would be his. Atht eh thought he smiled a bestial smile.
Absalom arose from his sitting position upon one of the gentle rolling hills of the valley, from whence he had been observing the play of light upon the Crystal Spire, how the medium bent and reflected to create flickers and images of immense beauty. It would be a fine cornerstone for a nation, one that the golden god needed to commence creating.
The golden jaw of the Persona slowly distended as Absalom walked forward, allowing a pale wisp of insubstantial energy to drift outwards. The small portion of power circled in the air before Absalom, and then the warped alabaster of the Masquerade began to vibrate and dance at the Gods side. Picking it up and holding out in front of him with arms stretched strait, the white ball began to sway back and forth on its rope, and the wisp of energy seemed to draw forward into an elliptical orbit. The orbs momentum seemed to grow with every second, until it was no longer swaying a few inches but swinging a few feet in both directions, casting the image of a censor of incense at some holy act.
Once the swinging orb reached a 90 degree apex, the Masquerade froze instead of swinging back, and then began to spin around in a circle horizontal to the earth below. At this point, the wisp that had seemed to intertwine with the artifact peeled off into several dozen others, floating several feet away wherein they began to take shape. A rough blurry outline of a humanoid form appeared, composed only of the ethereal energies, but then four thin arachnid legs sprouted from their backs in mimicry of the persona.
When the general outline was achieved, the very earth below the figures seemed to start flowing into the figures. The addition of the temporal to the wholly energetic mass began to have effect almost immediately. The suggestive lines that marked the form became more concrete as energy shifted to bone and organ, then bone and organ were wrapped in muscle and sinew, then flesh encased all.
As this was happening, dark clouds full of ominous portents began to coalesce above the God and his creations-in-progress. A gentle rain began to fall at the whim of the Golden Deity, and high above the roll of thunder bounced and reverberated off of the towering peaks of Absalom’s mountains. The falling waters became intertwined with the flesh and bones and flowed through the bodies, shifting to red and becoming blood as the hearts began to beat.
When it was finished, the original wisp, the original breath from Absalom came to life and the beings before him attained sentience. They knew, they felt, they thought, and they were complete. There figures were in resemblance to Absalom’s own, with humanoid forms that had a slight ridge/hump on their backs from whence sprouted four black arachnid legs. In contrast to the Golden liquid of Absalom’s Persona, these beings flesh seemed to be chiseled from marble, and if one were to stand in perfect stillness outers might think they were the carving of some master of sculpture. Upon their subtle marble white flesh, patterns appeared. On some the pattern were faint green stripes that climbed up their arms to their shoulders then distended down their backs, others had gentle blue swirls flowing from their chest up their necks and then splitting to provide a frame around their faces. All of the beings had markings that accentuated their features (which were perfectly symmetrical) and all of the markings were unique to that specific member of their race. Long manes of hair sprouted from the beings heads, the colors all seeming to be some shade of red, seeming to provide a halo of fire about these angelic beings. Their eyes, like that of their deity, were the oval shapes of many other mortals, however there was no iris or cornea, instead they were deep black spheres that stood in stark contrast to their regal white skin and burning hair.
Absalom smiled, his children had been born at long last, and in time the world would know of their ascension.
"Our forms are hardly something to envy, Mother. They are squishy. They hurt easily. They are weak. They are vulnerable. They are pale sacks of meat." He waved his hand over towards Yantra. "Many times, many times I've wanted a form just like his. Cold hard steel, unyielding unhurting metal. A few times, I've even gone so far as to change myself and take it. BUt it never works out. Some things are beyond even the powers of the strongest and mightiest gods, and our own natures are such a thing. Try as I might, the body of a golem is not one I was meant to wear, and no matter how long I wore it, I knew that I was denying myself, denying the truth. To do what I do, nothing is more important than truth. How could I seek it, when I willing turned away from it?"
Adjusting his hat, he nodded at her. "You are not bloated, or even mysterious. You are you. A hard chitinous exoskeleton to better protect yourself and your children, mandibles and powerful arms and legs to strike out at your foes."
Standing over her he waved his finger threateningly to keep her quiet. "Perhaps it is not what some find beautiful. But those would be wrong. It is the beauty of nature itself. It is who you are, not matter how much you might wish to be otherwise. A wise old friend of mine once told me, we can only be what we are, nothing more and nothing less. You are a giagantic insect, the same gigantic insect that I considered swatting when we first met, just to see what would happen. To deny that, to wish to be otherwise, is to deny who you are."
He shrugged. "Still, you are a god. If you wish to adopt another form for a time, you have that ability. We all do. Just remember, Mother, that here," he said, placing a hand on her chest, "in here, no matter what you look like, you are you."
----------
Utter pandemonium broke loose as cetana screamed in terror. SOme stood horrified while the great beast impaled or crushed them. Others fled, screaming as they ran with all their might. And still others fell to their kness weeping and imploring the great being to spare them.
Nearby, watching the beast attack the village, the vineaza rose to his feet, quick incantations and somatic gestures sending forth a barrage of fireballs before he rushed into the fray, leaping atop buildings and using them to hurl himself into the air over the grasslord before unleashing another mammoth blast of flame downwards onto the surprised beasts head.
She had not known the Aaviz could be so... profound. But what was 'weakness' and 'squishiness' to a Mother? What foes did she have to fight against that she had to have such a hard shell and ruthless mandibles and legs for? Why had she been born unto this form rather than... one that others found beautiful?
"Thank you the Aaviz.." the Mother replied sincerely, leaning down and giving him a friendly nudge with one of her leg segments. "I shall keep your words in mind... hopefully my new form will not be like you and the golem, but will be something that was meant to be. Know though I do not take this form because I find my own..." She looked down a little bit. "Alright, I do want to take this form because I find my own... lacking... but I also do it so that I can achieve a new level of closeness with... certain others."
As open as she was with him, she was NOT going to admit she had a crush on the Itja-Rek... let alone what she and the Sonnet had done! It was merely to make a new race, but it still seemed... personal.
------------
Unforgivable. Unforgivable. Unforgivable. Unforgivable. Unforgivable.
These puny worms had dared to attack him, dared to HURT him even! They did not accept his superiority... and so, they must all perish. Except perhaps those that prostrated themselves before him pleadingly... perhaps he would keep them alive to witness the end of their fellows, before taking them in as slaves. The death of their souls seeing everything they loved perish would no doubt make them fine servants if they didn't kill themselves from grief.
He had seen no sign of the- ow! A fireball?! That little punk was still moving! Taking the brunt of the fireballs head on, the Grasslord grimaced as it took hit after hit, simply absorbing the balls of flame with its carapace. It had taken far worse beating than what this creature could dish out before. And then... it leapt up and breathed fire on him.
Perfect. If there was one thing the Grasslord knew, it was that people couldn't dodge in mid-air. Lashing out through the flames, the blackened Grasslord punctured the vineaza in the through, stopping the torrent of flames before it calmly wrapped its other tentacle around its mid-section.
"Unforgivable," it uttered one last time, before calmly ripping the thing in two, splattering itself and any in the immediate are in blood and internal organs.
Hulna stirred from his long lack of consciousness in the middle of a large commotion. After pulling a sword out of his chest and a scan of the minds nearby, he pieced together that; a. there had been mass killings; and b. there was no more brainmoss. The rioters, then, were on a hunger strike, demanding reforms and supplies from the High Council. Some even questioned the values of Hulna worship. Seeing that things were getting out of hand, Hulna began glowing brightly to attract the attention of the protesters and Councilors alike. "Now that I have your atttention," he began, "I believe I have a solution to the current hunger issues and the lack of slave labor..."
SECRET: The Warped Court
Kayle, Spymaster of the Guild of Concealed Thoughts, frowned at her child. "What am I going to do with you?" she muttered. She had mated with the father because of dream guidance. Her son had dark skin, and white eyes and hair, unlike his mother's light skin, brown hair, and green eyes. She knew, for a fact, that, if her child was discovered, it would be killed. Normally, she wouldn't care, but her dreams told her that this child was important... for some reason. Kayle sighed in resignation, and took a quick nap to clear her head...
...and when she awoke, she knew just what to do with her son. She kept the child in the woods until he was weaned, and then took him to a cave near the far edge of the forest. She handed her son over to a cloaked figure, walked away, and never looked back.
SECRET: The Forests of the Triskelion, near an entrance to the Outerdark
Clovis and his mate, Flowersong, were walking through the woods to a cave near the far side of the woods. Both of them felt compelled to go to this cave they had never seen before, though neither could explain why. As they approached the cave and stared into its depths, all they could see was a dark, empty, expanse.
Then all hell broke loose.
The darkness seemed to dissipate, replaced by a purple, tentacled creature and a squad of dark skinned, white haired, eladrin-like beings. Before either had time to react, the dark-skinned things had both of them pinned to the ground. The tentacled being approached slowly, taking an apparent, sadistic pleasure in their suffering. As he got near Flowersong, she screamed at the top of her lungs, although no one else could hear. Finally, the thing wrapped his tentacles around her head, and the screaming suddenly stopped. Clovis yelled out to his wife, but when the creature wrapped its tentacles around his head, he stopped. He stopped moving, stopped screaming, stopped thinking. All he knew were the dark desires of his new master. Come, the ilithid thought, we're going to the Capitol. I hear Alkerzilak has melded with a female eladrin, and will pay through the nose for the... ahem... services of a male. Good thing Sister Ur tipped me off that you would be here. Clovis followed behind his master obediently, even as the drow butchered his wife's remains and fought over the choice cuts.
SECRET: Outerdark
Hulna surveyed his new empire. He looked at the slave pens, now stocked with eladrin and the drow, which he had created by psionically altering the genome of eladrin dream pawns. He viewed the ilithid slave masters with pride, having learned from their previous mistakes and keeping the eladrin and drow mainly as... indentured servants, who could move up in society through manipulation and growth. Powerful individuals advanced, weaklings stayed behind. Either way, they made sure to thoroughly indoctrinate the slave children, so they would not unite and rebel as the drahken did. And the return of food shut up some of the dissenters, he noted. He then retreated into his palace in the Capitol, which was now known as Dreambeacon.
PP
9/9 PP + 1 from Ur
-3 PP Shape Populace: Drow.
-1 PP Nourish Populace: Drow join Nihiliath as "indentured servants."
-1 PP (from Ur) Nourish Populace: Eladrin join Nihiliath as "indentured servants."
-1 PP Nourish Populace: The Nihilians have a food source (foolish mortals)
-1 PP Guide Populace: Hulna assumes control of the Nihilian government.
0 PP Name Settlement: The Nihilian Capitol becomes Dreambeacon.
3/9 PP Remaining
~Triskelion Continent~
The former slaves moved away from the caverns that, through twisted passages, led to the Outerdark. The land here was good, full of game to hunt and plants to gather, unlike the caves, and certainly unlike the Outerdark. Here, at last, they could live and be free. Inspired by the freedom and the strange sky lights, many Drahken crafted songs to praise their deliverance, and those who could not sing danced instead. Though food was still scarce, though many had died on the journey, they were free at last and their joy could not be restrained.
In time the group realized that they were too numerous to all stay together, and so branch by branch, clan by clan, they broke off to wander the continent and attempt to find a home. Some headed in each direction, though some were left behind to guard the caves and stop any who might be following them.
The few Eladrin who had been with the dragonforged in their slavery parted with their friends and, remembering ancient tales, sought out the Triskelion and hoped that their people would still be there.
The clan led by Mjoln and Yrm, however, turned to seek out their long lost relatives, the Dragonborn.
~Wenet~
“Ah, the sweet smell of battle,” a voice said, the comment seemingly directed at the Reaper. The dark form of Despair floated out of the smoky haze that surrounded the mountain. His red eyes drank up the glorious sight of the remnants of battle before turning to the two exarchs.
“It looks like I missed most of the enjoyment; my apologies. I was otherwise… tasked.” The way the demigod said that gave the impression that he found his duty irksome.
The eyes of the exarch, filled with bloodlust, looked down on the prone figure of Maximillion. The fog held out a hand and from the haze surrounding the mountain a tool condensed, a sword, a wicked scimitar stained with blood. Despair gently drew the tip of the Woe of War against the man’s throat, not drawing blood but leaving a slight line of irritated skin.
“Would you like help?” he asked the naga. “I am sure the soul of one such as this would be a delicacy.”
The Reaper smiled up at Despair.
"I was hoping you'd show up at some point, although as you can see I was certainly able to take care of myself."
She looked down at the body and thought for a a moment before shaking her head.
"No. This one is different somehow... like you and I. The Master has warned me not to take souls of great power... and I feel this one qualifies."
She looked up at the mist-formed Exarch.
"Just... get rid of him, would you? I... grow tired..."
~Wenet~
Though the fog lacked a proper face, the tone in Despair’s voice made it clear he was smiling. "I would expect no less. If you weren't so capable, I'd never leave."
His weapon melted to mist and disappeared. The hulking form of the exarch bent down and picked Maximillion up with his four arms. The demigod pondered what to do with him for a moment before tossing him into the clouds behind him. The creature seemed to vanish into the mist and out of this world.
"Why do you follow the will of your master?" Despair asked the Reaper.
~Floating Continent~
From the void beyond the floating continent, from beyond the world itself, a bright object appeared and began to fall. From where it came, no mortal eye could tell. Down through the sky it came, glowing with power. The creatures of the land scattered, looking for cover, at the sight of this strange flying object.
Across the sky the object streaked, leaving a glowing trail of mist in its wake. It fell and mortals took cover.
With a thunderous boom that shook the dust on the ground below below, this object pierced the veil of atmosphere around the continent. Through air and then through trees object screamed, until it crashed next to Aaviz and the Mother. There was little to do but look bewilderedly at the form of Maximillion.
Absalom walked among his newborn children for a time after their creation, observing there fist tentative steps into the world. Of course, they could not perceive him in his divinity, for they were only mortals, but his presence guarded them against any initial dangers. He observed as one of the newborn gently scanned the horizon, before the waving grass below caught her eyes. Lying down upon the earth, she withdrew her arachnid legs into herself and ran her hands gently through the turf, the blades tantalizing her flesh with a tickling sensation. Several others rose to as high as they could upon their inhuman limbs, arching their necks backward as they took in the cyclopean majesty of the mountains to the north. A few walked amongst the forest, their eyes alighting as they caught glimpses of the various small mammals they came across, and when they came upon a lone behemoth marching through the forest, they stared with gaping mouths in awe of the beast. Standing right behind them, Absalom’s presence insured the beast would not charge.
A group of the newly birthed Theyir’Riyeht walked along the beach of the lake, coming to the edge of the waters. They seemed hesitant around this feature, as if puzzled by what they saw before them. At first a few, but then more began to walk to the edge of the body, to where the waves rolled back and forth along the beach. Like children, they would scuttle forward as the waves receded, and then rush back when a new burst of water surged forth. Eventually, one bent down by the edge of the lake and allowed the waters to rush up around his feet. The sand beneath him swallowed his feet then, and he laughed at the sensation of wiggling his encased toes. Bending down, he brought a handful of water up to his black eyes, examining it in the minutest of detail before attempting to sniff and then taste the liquid. Finding it refreshing, he began to drink more and more, before jumping in to the waters themselves and walking out to where only his head rested above the waves. Instinct placed deep in his consciousness by Absalom prevented him from allowing the waters to sweep him out where he would drown, and soon others joined him.
Thus the Theyir’Riyeht spent the first day of their existence, exuberant in their newfound existence and the sensations of life. As the Sun began to trace further and further through the sky, and as Mani’s gentler light began to rise on the horizon, when the glow of the Waltzing Mountians seemed to reign supreme for only a moment, the newborn race gathered around the Crystal Spire and lay their heads down to rest. Walking forward, Absalom gently brushed aside a lock of hair that obscured the face of one of his children, as an affectionate father would.
The Theyir could not perceive him, but they felt an instinctual attraction and kinship with the Crystal Spire, and as he had intended the God of Beauty would use it to shape them and them to shape it. Reaching out with his consciousness, and manipulating the energies of the artifact, Absalom gave his children dreams. Dreams which would instruct them, dreams which would inspire them, dreams which would haunt them, dreams which would mold them!
When they awoke the next morning, the newborn Theyir’Riyeht found that they knew much that was concealed from them the night before. They could now speak, a language unlike any others spoken by mortals, one in which a hint of the true language of the universe was intertwined and thus their words carried a certain weight and power of their own. Some of the spider-folk found that they now could manipulate the sticky paste that exuded from their arachnid limbs and, with proper tools, weave it into an incredibly strong fabric that they would call dawnweave (after its discovery at dawn). Still others, found a strange draw towards the Crystal Spire, and for some reason began singing a complex ode that they could not explain how they knew. However, as their voices reached crescendo several dozen small shards from the artifact shed off. Instinctually, the Theyir’Riyeht took the shards and planted them in the soil nearby.
Southwest of the Sea of Eden
As the Crystal Spire was tapped into for energy by the God Absalom in order to nurture his creations, so too did power flow forth from the Choral Gardens. The waters all around the Black Choral began to teem with strange creatures with many tentacles and many varieties.
[sblock=OOC] 1pp (Nourish Specilization)- The Theyir’Riyeht learn how to speak with a hint of true power in their voices, giving them a bonus to diplomacy, bluff, intimidate, etc.
2pp (1 from Crystal Spire) Teach Populace- Theyir’Riyeht learn to create DawnWeave, a material that’s strong tensile strength make it notoriously difficult to cut. Any clothes made from DawnWeave or armor augmented with the material gain DR 2/ Bludgeoning.
2pp(1 from Codex) Teach Populace- Theyir’Riyeht learn that via singing they can manipulate the Crystal Spire in several ways. First and foremost, they can cause shards to fall off and plant them in the ground, where they can nurture them and cause new spires to grow (though there will only ever be 1 artifact). As they gain understanding of the song, they will be able to manipulate it into structures and even weapons. Weapons made of living crystal take weeks of singing by a master to forge, and thus all count as mastercraft and the critical threat range on all such weapons is one more than would normally be possible (a 20 becomes 19-20, 19-20 becomes 18-20, etc.)
1pp (Choral Gardens) Nourish- the Waters around the black choral gardens begin to teem with the life of various squids.
Lifting his hat from hisa head, he tossed at over towards Maximillion, satisfied as it expanded and grew, consuming the entire body of the exarch. Picking his hat up, he smiled happily that there was trace the exarch had ever landed. "Perfect. No need for anyone to even know he was here."
Turning back to Mother, he adjusted his hat and patted her leg segment affectionately. "Hm, it's a little heavier now. Need to fix that when I find time. Anyways, yes, you want to attain closeness with others. If I had to guess, it was either the god my messenger found you with, I admit to not knowing the name, or Itja-Rek. You did always seem pretty affectionate towards him. But then, that is none of my business, no, no, none of my business at all."
Scratching his chin, he glanced up. "You wouldn't have any idea who that body belonged to, do you?"
Two tall wooden towers stand on opposite ends of the newly expanded nation, and a few Elemental patrols had been put up on top of these towers. They scanned the forest and valley floors periodically, looking for signs of movement and/ or life. Stormbirds perched on top of the towers, amking it easy for elementals to do aerial sweeps. The nation was stronger than it had been. And so it was for the next few days...
One day, a scouting party of two air elementals, two eladrin, and a fire lord, went to scan the perimeter up close. Bushes rustled nearby, as the party looked over towards that direction. A small group of reptilian-like creatures-- with smooth scales, different colored scales, and brittle frills that wrapped around their necks-- popped out from behind the bushes and continued to walk in the same general direction. They looked at each other and decided to follow behind-- staying within a safe distance from them.
“They’re interesting, to be sure, but what makes them so special?” he asked.
[/sblock]
~The Sea of Eden~
Syreene shrugged. "What makes any race special? These creatures are just another of one of many populations within this world. Though I dare say these are special because some of them have wings. Can any of the other races fly unaided, like birds? I think not."
Syreene paused, smiling fondly at recent memories. "Plus, I made them with The Mother. Now that was interesting."
~The Triskelion~
Their precise origin may have been hidden, but it is no small thing to hide an entire race -- and the Primal Spirits greeted this new presence of near-virago, these drow, coldly. By day, the Primal Spirits surged through the forests of the spiraling mountain, chilling passerbys and filling them with a deep sense of foreboding. Unwittingly and unconsciously, the drow stopped emerging out into the pure light of the Triskelion's day-time at all. The drow would come out at night, but at no time other. Their fear of the daylight-time was much greater than that of hunting Orionid, Battlebriar, or Krin.
It was a desolate landscape below-- forboding ruins that stretched from the sea's edge to the middle of the valley. It was dead quiet-- even in the air where two thunderhawks circled in the daytime air as the sun (Sol) made its way across the sky. The two patrols eyed the horizons for movement and tracked the valley floor below for any signs of life. There was nothing to be seen...
The Reaper turned a bewildered eye on Despair.
"How could I not?" she said, eyes a-glow with power. "He has chosen me above all others, all other Naga, all other mortals to be his emmissary, his companion, his provider. All I must do is do what I do best, and in return he provides me with beauty and bliss and life eternal.'
The Reaper coughed and blood-flecked mucus flew out to speckle the white snow.
'Is that not reason enough?'
Dragonborn Settlement Arkhosia~
The dragonborn finally found an area of peace for now. Taking to the sea for fishing, to the woods for lumber, and finding ore in the nearby hills things are really starting to prosper. Magic starts to flourish as does the guards as they continue the traditions. Different peoples with different skills start to form a caste system in the village. As the people settle down more, the village starts to grow.
Dragonmeet in the Waltzing Mountains~
Dragons continue to debate the ongoing issues. A small sect of dragons demonstrate their magical abilities and state that all dragons are able to do this. They are now able to harness the raw energies of the world and wield them as if it was their own. The dragons continue to debate this as well as the facets of the world currently. The likelihood of this ending any time soon doesn't appear likely.
[sblock=Actions]
1PP Nourish populace: Dragonborn start to prosper and grow due to their new area. They take to the seas and devlop magics.
0PP Dragons begin using magic more widespread.
Schi'vya was awestruck and happy to see that Air elementals had successfully made a thriving settlement with a few different creatures. "By the name of the winds! And I thought that the winds would carry them somewhere beyond. Wow... all the funny little, pale-skinned, pointy-eared people and the rocky mutant things living amongst and helping each other... I guess they have my inspiration."
She noticed the reptilian-like creatures starting to walk out from the Triskelion-- apparently in all directions in small clusters. "My goodness. A migration of... weird looking lizardmen?"
"Maybe they might work out. Anyways, those elementals really seem to be building quite well there! And to be working with air and fleshed mortals! How interesting! I wonder if they'll get the other types in on this as well! Although I doubt it. Harkon seems to have a thing with the water types, and I dont see any earth elementals yet.... The air elementals are definitely yours though I can see it there! So! I wonder what else we'll find! So many things!" Gets to thinking about his dragonborn.... "You haven't seen the dragonborn yet have you? Come lets go! We can see many things on the way!"
"I have not seen this dragonborn you speak of." She perked up. "I would love to see!"
For once, the Mother was glad she didn't have some parts of the humanoid anatomy... if she could, she would have been blushing up a storm!
As it was, she looked down, giving off a whole lot of embarrassed pheromones. "Er... that is... well the Itja-Rek and I are good friends..." she admitted. "And the Sonnet is so..." She stared off wistfully for a moment, before shaking her head to clear it. "But truth be told, if I had to point at one person who inspired it all, it would actually be the Queen! She.. well, everyone found her beautiful and different when we first met her, and I was just... another Mother," she admitted a little pensively. "And then in the tomb she wasn't like she was before, and suddenly people liked her a lot less... and then she threw some... hurtful words," she admitted.
Right... it was now or never. The Mother stood upright, looking a little determined. "The Aaviz, may I stay here awhile? I have much to do if I am to take a humanoid form. Feel free to do as you will though... perhaps investigating that odd body, for I know not where it came from. I will not be in a form able to speak for some time."
~Area around the Soulshard Nation~
Plants, clean air, and sufficient light were foreign concepts to the dragonforged. As the Stromgad clan traveled through the forests of the land they tried to move quietly and to leave no trace of their passing, but this was not an environment that they could do that in yet. It was with little surprise that other creatures could pick up on their tracks and follow them. If their kind could remain secret, thanks was due more to the scarcity of sentient life in the world than their skill.
For many hours the Stromgad clan made their way through the land, foraging and hunting as they went. The hunger of the caves was still a recent memory, and the security of food stores felt good. When at last Sol passed through the veil and only the pale glow of Mani illuminated the sky, the Drahken struck camp.
Lacking tents or shelters, they started small fires for the young to sleep around, with the older ones sleeping in a circle around them, with yet another circle of watchers posted around them. It was then, in the stillness of the night, that a strange glow from the forest behind them caught their notice.
Weapons at the ready, a fist of warriors approached the light source. There they found an Eladrin flanked by oddities.
"Strength to kin and kind, fey one. What task brings you to our camp this late at night?"
~The Sea of Eden, Egg shell mountain~
"Ah," Harkon said simply in response to Syreene's words. "Since you said that their likes had never been seen before in the myriad worlds, I had thought there might be something more to them. Flight is good, though. Like the Skimmers of Culthet, or those dragonborn that I've heard tell of."
Leaving the creature he had been examining, the lord of waters slid over to another. His waters briefly washed over it as he tried to gather more information. "Hmm... this one doesn't have wings. Is it Kyrion as well? Indeed," Harkon's eyes looked in many directions, independent of each other, "There is a great diversity here. Are they-"
Abruptly Harkon shuddered and his mouth turned into a grimace. "Bleh, I hadn't realized how unpleasant wood tastes." Across the world, the first dragonborn boat took to the waters.
"As I was asking, are they all the same?"
~Wenet~
Despair nodded at the Reaper's words, but he had thought of this matter before. "Only you can say if that is reason enough, for you are the one who follows him. It is not my place to challenge the established order."
The crimson light of the demigod's eyes turned to survey the waste that had covered the mountain. "I have never met your master, either. But..."
The fog let that conjunction hand in the air a moment while he turned back to look at the snake-woman. "He withholds delights from you. You're skill at ending life is truly a marvel, an art to be praised. Yet he tells you that you may not practice it freely. There are some souls that you are forbidden to take. I can't help but wonder why. Mortal souls are so... weak, like a drop of blood diluted in the ocean. But the essence of one like us, like that one I sent away."
Mist wrapped itself around the naga for a moment as Despair whispered in her ear-hole. "Imagine the bliss and beauty of such a soul. The pleasure of feeling it dissolve on your tongue, the thrill of its immortality infusing your every fiber, the sheer ecstasy of such power inside of you."
Despair withdrew abruptly and looked again at the tomb atop the mountain. "But I am sure your master has reasons for hording such things for himself. They always do..."
"Forgive me, I shouldn't have said anything."
~Near the Dragonborn Settlements~
As the brass dragon flew overhead, the Drahken stopped and gawked in wonder. A sense of pride and majesty filled them, innate racial memories surfacing. Yrm held Mjoln close and the couple shed tears at the beauty of the creature. When the thing passed from sight, the dragonforged felt renewed, as if only now they had come home. Inspired, they set off in the direction the dragon had gone.
The Reaper's brow furrowed. She reached down and plunged her hand into a fallen orc, pulling out the soul and staring at it for a time before replying.
"It is not that he... hoards it..." she said slowly. "I get... the impression... that he fears... it. His mind... it is a careful balancing... act. If I were to... give a soul to him that was too powerful... it might upset that balance and he would... change."
Not really hungry and still feeling the afterglow of her last dose of divine energy, The Reaper was simply playing with the soul, pulling it one way and the other as the orc's whispered screams filled the night air.
" His fear... is mine. If such a thing were to happen... to a god... to my master... upon eating such a soul... what would happen to a lowly servant such as you or I?"
Growing tired of her game, she ripped the orc in two, soul vanishing like morning dew with a wail. The Reaper's neck turned so she could look slyly at Despair.
"And I already know such ecstasy... my master gives it to me each time I complete my mission for him." Her eyes flashed and her tail twitched in remembered pleasures at the reminder. She picked up her basket.
"I must collect these souls. I must complete my mission once more."
~Umbart's Chambers~
Itja-Rek looked at Umbart as the god fell once more into a slumber.
"I shall see what I can do beyond." he said to Karak after floating forward to check the god's vital signs once more. "For now..."
Itja-Rek looked around and saw a discarded metal urn and picked it up. It was not large, only a handsbreath across, but it was clear that whomever had made this particular piece of work had devoted considerable time to it. All along the edge were etched complex patterns that seemed to defy the mind to comprehend them all at once, weaving in and around one another with beautifully inlaid bronze, which offset the iron frame. Here and there a few sapphires dotted the exterior. The fact that such a beautiful piece of work had been discarded did not speak favorably of the Orc's sense of decor.
But the god had a use for it. Reaching up into his head, he plucked out one of his souls that was both still sane and also had shown excellent progress in following his will. He shoved the soul into the urn and concentrated, binding it to the metal. After a few moments, the open mouth of the jar filled with a blue light and it began to float on its own. A few more moments passed as the jar bobbed up and down, left and right, slowly coming to understand what had happened. Then:
"What do you wish of me?" A disembodied voice, one tinged with the rembered accents of a noble of the Warped Court, asked.
"Watch and help this god, Spark." Itja-Rek said, indicating Umbart.
"Very well." said the Spark.
With that Itja-Rek bowed to those present and left. As he went, he reached out and grabbed an orc at random, deftly reaching in and crushing its soul with a practiced twist. He hoisted the lifeless Orc over one shoulder and flew off towards the Pillar of Creation.
4 PP: Ascend Exarch: Spark, the pot-bound soul-smith. Provides Divine PP.
2/6 + 2/2 (Genesis, Arbitration)
~Wenet~
"Of course," Despair said, "I should not have said anything."
Quietly the fog helped the Reaper go about her work, plucking souls from the bodies of the fallen. After a few minutes he paused, his form hulking over the body of an orc. His eyes examined the corpse before he commented, "It is interesting, isn't it, that there is nothing of these mortals that we cannot take?"
One arms reached down and ripped off an arm. "Their flesh."
Another arm reached down and plucked out a silvery image of the creature's home. "Their memories."
Yet another arm withdrew a shining spark of color which seemed to emanate love. "Their emotions."
The demigods final arm withdrew the boon. "Their souls."
With each prize in hand, Despair turned to the naga for a moment before tossing her the soul. "Their very essence is ours for the taking. We have but to reach out and grasp it."
He fell into silence. It wasn't until nearly every souls had been taken that he spoke up again. "Gods are like mortals, in some regards. There is nothing that they have that they cannot give. Your master gave divinity to my master, for example. And your master gives you pleasure. I wonder if too, like mortals, anything they have can be taken as well. Pleasure at your beck and call, not his. Pleasure as much as you want, for as long as you want."
Without warning the demigod broke into laughter. “Look at me, philosophizing when there is work to be done. I beg your forgiveness.” He returned to collecting.
The five patrollers followed the strange lizardlike creatures to a makeshift camp. The Fire lord grumbled low, as it sensed a threat of weapons being pointed at them. One of the eladrin held up a hand. "Hold. They do not wish to harm us. It is only a defensive response." He turned back towards the creatures.
"Greetings. We are village patrollers. We saw you walking through the trees near our settlement. What purpose brings you this far into the wilderness at this hour?" The others stood down, and the Fire lord stopped grumbling.
She was a Bahenet who would always believe stuck in a room full of Bahenet and Eidolons who never would believe. By very definition she was screwed. And if that weren't enough, the non-believers were in quite a tizzy, banging hands on tables and shouting themselves hoarse. Her only consolation was that they didn't yet know that she was the very type of person they were shouting about. Their attention was instead focused on the front of the room where a man she didn't recognize was standing behind a podium, far from trying to quiet the crowd, but rather leading them in protest like a conductor on high.
"Outrage sparks at this newest offense!" shouted the man, and he looked to be in his forties, though he was a Bahenet, and thus his age was suspect, "The Bahenet high priests think they can sweep through the land and impose their own warped form of worship in every hamlet and thorp!"
He slammed his fist on the podium, and though his face was stony and impenetrable, a fanatic fire gleamed in his eyes. She saw this. She saw this and knew what it meant.
"Even now the shadow of the Seseh-Ba stretches across our land," he shouted, and the Bahenet believer suppressed a laugh at his use of the nickname for Itja-Rek. Seseh-Ba was Destroyer of Souls in the old tongue. Fitting, she supposed, for their purposes.
"So now more than ever we must embrace the love of Khered-Mew, our one and only mother,"he continued, getting into his preachy stride. She had wondered when the so-called Child Mother would get drawn into this. She supposed it was expected. The Khered-Mew and her blasted Kai, priests of Khered-Mew essentially, worked to advance the Ib Mew, the supposed alternative to Seseh-Ba's reign of death.
"Tomorrow I visit the world to seek allies in this inevitable war we must wage, and when I return, we will cut a swathe of death straight to Wenet, the fortress of the cursed Seseh-Ba!"
The sole Believer looked at the non-Believer and sighed. The non-Believer, the Seshem of this new society, then searched the crowd and caught her eye. And then, brother and sister gazed at each other, not recognizing, but knowing, instinctively knowing.
Nefrew looked at Nedjiba, and knew right then, knew completely and utterly that he may always be her brother, but he would never be her Twin.
2 PP - Guide Organization - The Ib Mew - Eidolons and Bahenet follow the Ib Mew, a secret religion devoted to the Khered-Mew (the Queen) and acts as a group of freedom-fighters against the rule of Seseh-Ba (Itja-Rek).
Syreene shook her head. "Yes. I mean, no, they aren't all the same, but, yes, that is also a Kyrion."
She watched a band of Epherim quickly tunneling into the mesa. "There are five varieties in all, three female, two male. Are you familiar with the vermin known as ants? I saw some around the hive while waiting for The Mother. It is, no doubt, part of what inspired me. The ants possess a similar caste system, with "female" ants becoming either workers or royal queens. I simply... expanded upon that concept."
The goddess furrowed her brow. "Though I think I regret that only the Ophion and Swordwings can fly. They seem so carefree, buzzing through the skies."
-2 PP Guide Found Nation: The Kyrion increase in numbers, their inherent social structure resulting in the formation of the nation of Ravan, led by two semi-democratically elected councils, The Crownwings, (Swordwings) and the Jagd of Princes (Ophion's, refer to themselves as princes despite the implications of their gender)
~Near the Soulshard Nation~
The grey eyes of Tiwa looked to the odd fire thing that the fey one spoke to. Was it more than an illusion, or was this deception? The heat that radiated off it and warmed her purple scales seemed real enough, but the squid-faced fiends of the other world were more than capable of deceiving a mind even that far. That there had been nothing but dense forest around them for hours told that, even if speaking the truth, these ones had been following them for some time. Best to guard her words.
"We have traveled from early morning to now, late at night. Our purpose here is to rest for tomorrow, for we travel again." She paused for a moment, choosing her words carefully. "You must have been traveling for some time as well, and it is late. Surely your village misses you?"
~Sea of Eden~
Vermin, Harkon wondered. A strange thing to call ants; they were hardly unwanted in the hive. Indeed, he was under the impression that the Mother had put them there very intentionally. But Syreene seemed to be as hasty as fire, so he held back from commenting.
"Five varieties? Like, the young, old, and very old?" he asked instead.
'Travellers...' The eladrin thought to himself. "So you are travellers. Well, our condolences for intruding upon your camp. We will take our leave." He thought for a moment longer. "Unless you need some company for tonight. The forests are seldomnly quiet during the night, and beasts of burden run amok."
The quiet flapping of wings sound overhead in the night sky. The faint sounds of the stormbirds could be heard through the forest.
The Reaper shook her head.
"Even if what you say is true, it is too risky. The Masters make us with such ease, how could we hope to best them when they are so high above us? I will stay with my current lot, for it gives me what I wish for... my beauty is not worth throwing away for... more of what I already have."
She gave Despair a long look, eying him up and down and taking in every detail.
"You look good yourself, friend. Perhaps you should ask your master to fix you if you feel inadequate."
~Above the Mushroom Forest~
As Itja-Rek traveled, he passed over the mushroom forest and recalled the story of the two Bahenet children whom had contacted him and how they had nearly been killed and certainly been poisoned by the beings that lived in the forest below. Feeling a sudden spike of rage, he adjusted the orc he was carrying so he had a free hand and with it threw a lump of power into one of the mushrooms before moving onwards.
~Below...~
For a short while, nothing happened as the mushroom was ignored. Soon, though, a Mish came through the mushroom forest, heading homewards. In his hurry, he brushed against the mushroom, and flinched as it seemed to sting his barky skin. The pain passed quickly, so he thought nothing of it after a few minutes and continued on his way, arriving home to his family after stopping at several stores. Evening came and morning followed, the first day since being stung by the Mushroom.
The next day, the Mish went about his day much as the one before and much as the one before that, heading into the mushroom forest to find edible delectables to sell at various stores. That day, he was quite sucessful, and returned home to a happy family, giving his children new toys that he had traded for. Evening came and morning followed, the second day since being stung by the Mushroom.
The next day went much as the prior, although his arm itched a bit. The mish examined it at mid-day and saw a slight discoloration to his bark. "Must have irritated it," he thought to himself, trying not to touch it as he went along his day. By the time night came, it was itching ever more fiercefully, and the Mish had difficulty falling asleep. Evening came and morning followed, the third day since being stung by the Mushroom.
The mish woke up to the itch, and struggled to go about his day, but his mind was dominated by the itch and the black discoloration that was sweeping up his arm. He stopped at several shops to use some of his stored up credit as his haul for the day was not enough to support his own family, and noticed that several of the merchants were scratching various parts of their body as well. That night, the itch turned into a burning sensation, and as the night progressed, the burning sensation gave way to intense pain. Evening came and morning followed, the fourth day since being stung by the Mushroom.
By mid-morning, the Mish was screaming as his arms and body began to, for lack of a better word, liquify, black apendages losing their cohesion and melting into pools of fungal goo. The day wore on as the village doctor tried in vain to stop the progression to no avail. By the late afternoon, all four of the Mish's apendages were gone, but the Mish had not died, screaming still in agony as his torso grew slack and his head withered. Finally, just as the moon bathed the room for the first time that night in silvery radiance, the Mish stopped screaming, thrashing about for a few long moments before the rest of his body melted. Evening came, but for this mish, morning did not follow.
The next day, the doctor of the town was called to three of the merchants whom which the dead Mish had done business. By the next morning, they too were dead.
1 PP: Denourish Populace: The Mish develop a fungal rot disease that spreads through their population.
"Eh..." Syreene furrowed her brows, eyes squeezed shut as she rubbed at one of her temples. "No, not at all. The Kyrion are really nothing like ants, tiny or monstrous as they may be."
Syreene sighed. "I guess it's in part because I'm not sure what you are familiar with. Do you know of the Eladrin perhaps? When a virago is born, they can grow up to be a hunter, or a farmer, or a fisher, or a warrior, or a shaman. When a Kyrion is born, they are a hunter, miner, or fisher. Each... variation occupies a niche within the greater whole of the race. But unlike the virago, these Kyrion are immutable. If a virago huntress wants to, she can learn how to fish and become a fisherman. No matter how much an Epherim acts like an Ophion, the one can never become the other."
Syreene shook her head again. "No, that's not quite it, either." She opened her eyes, tried to look Harkon in the eye, realized the futility, and wound up staring at his aqueous mass in its entirety. "Do you know how some dobbits become very large and grow a horn -- such a striking change that we call it something different entirely, a Gigadobbit? They are still dobbits, they're just... worthy of a separate label. Such it is with a kyrion. They all hatch from the same egg, but there are five kinds of them."
The Mother was done talking with the Aaviz for now... she had said her piece, and he had said his, but she had business to attend to.
Mustering her power, the Mothers form began shifting... or more accurately, shrinking. Shrinking and shrinking until she was but a mere fly, which quickly buzzed into the elven settlement. As a fly on the wall, she could watch the elves more closely... and determine the truth behind what ones such as they considered beautiful.
----------------
"Is this it?"
Dark Carapace frowned at his companion, then back at 'it'. 'It' was a small shining line in midair, the very space around it seeming to crackle with power. "I don't see much else around here that could be a crack in the field of reality, do you?" he asked back a little irritably.
One Eye sighed, antennae twitching as she sent out waves of psiconic force at the thing, trying to get a reading. "Well, it seems stable... for now. It's deteriorating at an abnormally high rate though. There might be a bogey trying to force its way through before the rift is fully formed."
Dark Carapace nodded thoughtfully. "Well if that's the case, if we seal it up, the thing will just beat up against the weak point until it cracks again... we need to get it to give up."
She'd been afraid of that... One Eye winced, before sighing again. "Alright, I'll tear the rift, you blast it. But be careful, last time we did this is when I started being called One Eye..."
Tearing a hole in the fabric of reality was surprisingly easy, especially when there was already a crack in it like this... all you needed to do was force your thoughts on either side of it, grab ahold, and pull it back until...
The crack shot open, revealing a black, empty expanse. Sensing its opportunity, a... thing shot outwards. They had long ago learned that the Zero Zone Beasts had more than one form, and this one was one of the more bizarre ones... it had a trunk like a plant, and two reptile style legs. It had 'branches' not unlike tentacles, each one ending in an eye that also opened up and snapped like a mouth. It was pure... unbridled insanity on two legs. And if they hadn't been expecting it, they would have perished then and there.
Dark Carapace shot the creature with a bolt of psionic force. The Zero Zone Beasts were vulnerable to psionics at the best of times, but this branch of psionics was especially devastating, working off of the concept of 'home' and dealing damage according to how far they were from it... for a creature that resides outside of time and space, home was a long, LONG way away.
The Zero Zone beast screamed in pain, before being knocked back into the portal, horribly wounded and twisted. Seeing the chance, One Eye closed the crack back up, before beginning to seal it up more permanently.
"I love this job," Dark Carapace muttered to himself.
1PP - Nourish Monster Population - Zero Zone Beasts grow in number and variety.
2PP - Form Organization (Trilobite) - The Trilobites create the "Wayfarers of Reality", an organization devoted to keeping those who belong out of this plane, out of this plane, and maintaining the planar boundaries.
[5/9, 1/1 Nourish from Oath, 1/1 Arbitration from First]
The Drahken nearly fell over with laughter. Beasts of burden running amok?! Certainly the Eladrin didn't know the circumstances of the clan, but that didn't make the matter less amusing.
"You've a fine sense of humor," the purple female said. "Come, it's late and you must have been walking for hours. Sit by the fire and relax. I am Tiwa Tempfate, of the Stromgad clan. Stay a while."
"That is," she added as she turned to lead them back, her eyes giving a mirthful glance at them, "If you don't mind the beasts of burden." The drahken roared with laughter again.
~Wenet~
"A thousand pardons," the looming gloom said to the slithing snake. "I was merely letting my mind wander aloud; I meant nothing by it. Certainly, one such as us could not single-handedly cause a god to die."
~Sea of Eden~
"But more than is common. Such is interesting. I wonder... there is not much in this world that is truly a mix of Culthet and Mishway of old. These though..."
Well, he did find this creature somewhat amusing. They have made a risky gamble for walking through the forest, but they seemed quite optimistic-- and they had reason to be. "It is an honor to meet you, Tiwa. I am Salere, captain of the guard, and a swollen member of the Soushard clan. We have been gathered together to carry out the word of our parton deity, which is to protect and to serve those in need of help or ressurgence."
He sat down near the fire. The Fire lord kneeled down and stuck a finger in the crackling flames, brightening the flames and warming the air a little. "Little ones like warmer fire, do they not?" The Fire lord's voice carried out across the clearing.
One of the air elementals chuckled, while the other slapped her on the wrist. "Hey! What was that for?"
The other one glanced at her. "Respect, Sile. We are in the presence of another community-- well, a part of a community. Schi'vya would not be pleased with your incompetence..." He half-glared at her.
Sile grunted and crossed her cloudy arms. The other eladrin looked around and climbed up one of the trees to get a better look of the surrounding area. No signs of movement.
What he didn't notice was that his continuing splatting through reality formed strange creatures, make from pure, undiluted reality. They spawned from his trail, and spread out, soon being absorbed back into reality as their pure realityness was diluted by the stuff around them. But they could pop up again, especially where reality warped, on the boundaries of planes.
-3 PP: Spawn Monster(Greater): Reality Beasts. Made from reality purer than what most people think of as real, they generally reamin submerged in the normal reality, showing when reality thins, such as near planar boundaries. Portals between planes seem to be a common attracting point for them, and they have a tendancy to assault in great numbers such places.
3/6 PP
Also, this is a tag for anyone. If you want to talk, feel free to answer.
It was anther normal night for the inhabitants of the nation. The Fire lords continued their work on the inside and the elementals and eladrin added their own finishing touches to the place. It all seemed very decent-- that is until...
The bend of reality through which the portal to the Astral Sea was becoming disturbed, and it was as if hundreds of transparent creatures started cultivating and swarming arund it, causing mayhem in the center of the nation. Draekan called up the spirit of fire and blasted them with an arc of flame before a Fire lord charged up and punched the strange creatures into the sky, watching as they dissolved into the night sky. The swarms kept on coming, and then a thunderhawk dove in from the sky and let loose a powerful discharge of lightning at the beasts, spreading them out amongst the air, where they started to dissolve.
Draekan called off the flames. "What in winds name is going on?" He thought hard and established a telepathic link with Schi'vya. 'Master. Something's gone terribly wrong. Strange beasts have been found attacking the gateway to the Other Realm.'
Silly exarches...
Right at that point the message rings out into the air...."I wonder what thats about?"
Main city Arkhosia~
The dragonborn have been busy. With bountiful amounts of food and materials, they start a new nation: Remeny (Hope). With a new nation formed, some start to leave out into the world. Explorers, Merchants, and adventurers, all hoping for something different. Some hope to seek out new lands and frontiers, others seek out new trades (possibly on those new frontiers), and there are those just trying to get a veiw of the world around them (and make a quick gold piece or two!) With more people comes more demand, and ideas. Larger boats and ships are constructed, some with fishing in mind, others for exploration. And as all this is going on a certain old man sits, waits and prays wondering what his god has in store for him to keep him alive for this long......."
Dragonmeet in Waltzing mountains somewhere.....~
The dragon debate is still under way. The younger ones go out and begin to infiltrate some of the societies, to see what they are like. Others, just keep watch from a distance. The meet continues on.....
2PP Guide nation: Remeny is founded with Arkhosia as its main city.
1PP Nourish populace: A bustling new nation and a bounty from the seas allows for more growth!
1/5 PP left 5PP /week
The message rigned ut clear through her head. "Oh, no... that's not good... my children are in peril..."
Syreene nodded. "I know what you mean, though I do know of one other fusion of the two; within the Triskelion, some of the Archfey Eladrin have forcibly indoctrinated a band of mindflayers into their society."
Syreene shuddered slightly, gripping her shoulders. "The Archfey are strong enough with their fusion of psionics and arcana that their skills at mental domination vastly outstrip the illithids own. But yet something is angering the Primal Spirits of the Eladrin. I can feel it in my blood, such anger."
Syreene blinked. "I'm sorry, I digress."
Elven Lands
My oh my... these elves were certainly fascinating! They ate oddly, they breathed oddly, she could sense organs inside of them beat and pulsed and writhed instead of simply letting things take their normal course... it was all so interesting! Their culture was perhaps a little brutal for her tastes, though not in their nature but rather how they were forced to survive in rather harsh lands... then again, not every race could be so lucky as to have a hive built especially for them.
What interested her the most however were their tastes... she knew the Queen was considered beautiful, at least before she regressed to a larvae, but she could never put her leg segments on what exactly about her made others consider her so. As a fly following the horse taming elves however, she could observe what drew their eyes, what they did to make themselves seem more beautiful, and what they enjoyed in the bedroom... the way they mated was fascinating in and of itself! She hadn't even thought about mating face to face rather than one simply mounting the female from behind...
After some time among them, she began to have a feel for what the elven men found attractive in a female. All the men seemed to gawk at whichever elven women had the larger chest growths... no, 'breasts' is what they called them. Whichever elf in the village had the largest breasts was usually considered the most beautiful... well no, more like the most 'sexy' as they called it. The most beautiful elves in the village tended to have nice skin, long silky hair, and dressed themselves in nice... "clothes", what an odd concept! Why on earth would the elves cover themselves up when from what she could tell they seemed to be a lot more attracted to each other when they weren't wearing them! Then again, they seemed to take a lot of pleasure taking them off... maybe that was it?
There were a couple of other things that came to her attention though. While most elves found large breasts to be attractive, a few were equally if not more so attracted to those who abdomen seemed larger than usual to most of their other species... and yet, in both of these cases, elven men had no interest in some of the women who had both! The Mother was completely mystified by this, until she noticed those being more or less ignored had a larger midsection than usual, and often had fat reserves along the arms, legs, and other areas... so men only enjoyed fat reserves when they were on the chest of abdomen? How strange... They also seemed to appreciate a woman who was rather tall, but still shorter than them, had smooth leg segments, and... well it was all a little confusing! She doubted that if she put every single thing every single elf found into a single form she'd be able to walk, let alone be found attractive! She supposed she'd just have to use her best judgment...
Deciding she'd seen enough, the Mother buzzed a little aways from the village... she'd be back soon. She needed to ensure she'd gotten things right after all, and what better way than to ask the elves their opinion?
"Well, dearie, if you will excuse me... I have some business I must attend to." The Reaper said to Despair, giving the taller exarch a smile before hefting her now-full basket and speeding inside the Tomb and down to the Distillery, where, after bathing in the glory of her God, she refilled her little vial with the elixir of creation and left, making her way to the Spire and into the Caverns of Davos, where she found the naga living along the sides of the Sixth Cavern in small caves hewn into the rock.
Her kin greeted her cautiously but warmed to her after she gave them the gift of the draught, which they added to their water supplies. Immediately their scales gleamed brighter and their workers were invigorated, expanding the network of caves deeper into the walls. She then instructed them in the ways of proper burial of their dead after the naga mentioned the increasing incident of ghouls.
The Naga changed their ways. Now, the bones were boiled and the flesh taken off and consumed. The Reaper revealed that the creation of ghouls was tied to the eating of the marrow of the bones of the dead naga, and so the trick was to not break the bones of the naga and eat the innards. Instead, the naga began to assemble the bones of their ancestors into massive rooms full of artistically arranged skeletons. Here the naga would go to honor their ancestors.
1 PP: Nourish Populace (from Distillery): The Naga flourish
1 PP: Guide Populace (from The Reaper): The Naga alter their burial practices and reduce the creation of ghouls.
Standing there, for a long time, Aaviz stared at the surrounding terrain. He stared at the elves as they went about their tasks. He stared at the elves as they left and returned. He stared at a passing dune lord, snatching the beast out of the air before vivisecting it. When finished, he put the poor beast out of it's misery. He counted the grains of sand within fifty feet of him. He counted the fist sized rocks within one hundred feet of him finally, he glanced at the and whispered the first word since he had snapped out of his thoughts. "I'm bored."
Frowning in irritation, looked skyward, glaring at the boring blue sky, barely seeing the Floating Aerie so high above. "Very boring sky. Let's spruce you up a bit!"
Casting out his hand, he drew the near by stones to him, then hurled them skyward, suspending them in the sky above. Frowning at the tiny specks so high above, he shook his head. "No, no, no, no. Bigger, you idiots. Much bigger."
Snapping his fingers, he urged the stones to expand, swirling his fingers in the air as if trying to stir a thick soup, slowly causing the rocks to liquify little by little, pulsing and glowing with white light as he spun his finger, over and over, the rocks expanding and widening with every rotation until at least his hand fell back to his side, the light fading as the rocks slowly returned to their previous solidity. "Well, I suppose they'll have to do."
1 PP - Nourish Land - Scatter various plant-life and small game among the new floating islands.
1 PP (exarch) - Nourish Populace - Cetana
6/9+0/1
Harkon Armal hardly heard the words of Syreene, sound though they were. His mind was focused on the duality of the Kyrion, of the seemingly productive melding of Culthet and Mishway. That synthesis attracted him, spoke to him. He was born of the waters of the old world of Culthet, but he had inherited the liquid of Mishway as well when the worlds collided. Like these Kyrion, he held the essence of two worlds in him, yet unlike these creatures, these lowly mortals, he was not a melding.
His attention elsewhere, Harkon let himself wash away from Syreene’s presence. He dripped back down to the ocean below, and in those waters reformed. Long he drifted among the waves, lost in thought. The lives of mortals carried on, unaware. The lives of gods, likewise, continued on, unconcerned with his preoccupation.
At last the waters stirred. For too long he hadn’t acknowledged both sides of himself. Indeed, when need called him two split, those halves had resisted merging again. Even now those halves were distasteful of one another within him. This would need to end. Mortals should not be able to succeed where a god could not.
He swam to the center of the world, to the forge of the gods, and there he split himself in two, into the twin serpents, the dual waters of Culthet and Mishway. Though the two glared at each other, they were united in purpose for the moment. Water called to water. The element remembers, and those memories came to them.
Though mortals were solid, most of them, they drank water, they used it, they breathed it. And water remembers, water flows, carrying those memories, those thoughts, to the twins. The every-essence pooled in the forge, upon the anvil, but the twins did not take up the hammer or the tongs. With their claws they crafted the knowledge of water, the synthesis of the two worlds long past. A green haze filled the forge, for in the thoughts of the present the future is born. Harkon and Armal opened a path to the riddle of time.
But not god had the right to this. Even as the whole of time pushed against their minds, they pushed back, giving it a mission, a will, and a name. The Oracle, for now green haze, understood and moved away, out into the world.
As it moved, the rivers of information that flowed to it twisted, and the metaphysical paths that it traveled manifested in the material world as two ravens. Hugin and Munin they would be called, Thought and Memory. These heralds of the Oracle flew into the world, gathering information, and returning to the haze, which was itself quickly dispersing into the fabric of the world.
4PP - Ascend Global Exarch: The Oracle. The Oracle is capable of providing information to the gods about the past, present, and future. However, it will only due this through riddles and rhymes. Lacking a physical body, the Oracle has to possess inanimate objects or other creatures in order to pass along its message.
As a global exarch, ANY player may take control of it, by having it inhabit a mortal or exarch or the like. This allows any player to give a prophecy of the future, which that player would like to bring to fulfillment. Alternately, the Oracle may pass along information that the listener would have no other way of knowing, but this must be done in a way that obscures the nature of the information.
The Oracle’s PP bonus is specifically used to gather information. In order to bar information from being gathered, one will need to spend a PP to prevent the two ravens from accessing it. However, as even secret information only gets passed along obscurely, in riddle form.
This is primarily for RP purposes.
I will leave it up to the admins to determine if someone is abusing this power.
If anyone would like help composing riddles, I am happy to help.
1 PP remaining.
"But I digress."
The Feymother returned her focus to the water god just in time to see him melt away.
"And now... you're... dissolving." stated Syreene, half-disbelieving.
"Great. Apparently I can bore people to non-existance now." The god clicked her tongue. With Harkon gone for greener pastures (or would that be bluer waters?) she had no pressing reason to remain here. She was against directly meddling with mortals. Leave that to her Lords and Sonnet's Lyn.
Syreene spun once, a zephyrous pillar of gusting air cycloning around her briefly, and she was gone. Vanished, save for dust in the wind.
Reset and start of a new turn.
All have 6/9 save:
Cruias: 5
Inimicus,Arknai:4
Befre she even knew it, she was right in front of Draekan and the gateway to the Astral Sea. "What seems to be the trouble, young one?"
Draekan was relieved to find Schi'vya. "Oh, thank the winds I've found you! And who is this standing here?" He noticed the dragon god standing next to her. "Well, allow me to explain. We were just about to begin a perimeter sweep, when all of a sudden strange transparent creatures started attacking the gateway. I have no idea where they came from, but all I know is that they were attracted to this gateway."
Schi'vya looked at Astriluxus, then back at Draekan. "Hmmm... that is strange. This is Astriluxus, by the way."
Draekan bowed in respect. "A pleasure to meet you."
"So, I guess everything is under control now?"
"For now... at least a thunderhawk swooped down and gave them something to remember us by." He chuckled. "I would like someway to seal off the gateway for now, so that they won't, at least, attack it too much. If they are attracted to this place, then they might not be able to pass through walls."
"I will do the honors." Schi'vya surrounded the gateway in a pillar of stone, which would at least prevent the creatures from attacking that one gateway. "Hopefully that solves the problem." She turned back to Draekan. "Now... do you want to help me with something? I believe I do have a few more creations to finish up."
Draekan nodded. He and Schi'vya held arms and closed their eyes. They established links with the other three.
'My guardians. It is time for the Elementals to rise up in this world. Will you help?'
The whispered responses of the others rang through her mind in unison. 'It shall be done.'
'Let the earth rise and the waters flow into life and harmony. Let the elements combine and prosper and bring balance into this newly created world.'
~The Northern Archipelago~
The waters that flowed in between the islands of the archipelago were calm. A slight ripple rang through the surface of the water, as if an unseen drop of water fell from the sky. More water broke the serene surface and started to mold and take shape into forms easily determined as two arms, two legs, a torso and a head. The beings rose and walked onto the shorelines of the nearest archipelago, leaving trails of dripping water from behind. The others stayed behind and skated along the water's edge.
~Eastern ridge of the Sunspire Mountains~
Rockslides of colossal size rumbled down the slopes of the largest peak of the Sunspire Mountains. The large pieces of rock were the first to tumble out onto the valley floor, while the rest congregated at the timberline border. The rockslides had stopped and a new and unusual phenomenon started. The rocks started to roll and ram right into each other, sticking to each other like powerful magnets, eventually taking the form of large humanoid creatures with rocky features and a featureless face. They sported lighter colored rocks for eyes, and a gaping maw below their stubby noses for a mouth. They each looked and eventually spoke to each other in a low rumble. They all rolled, ran, threw, and fought each other to attempt to figure out their environment-- their new world.
3pp - Shape Populace (Earth Elementals): Beings born from a massive rockslide on the Eastern side of the Sunspire Mountains. They are social creatures who are deliberately adventurous, and will enjoy the momentary joy of chasing wild animals.
Current PP
Base: 1/9 pp
Combat: 1/1 pp
Genesis: 0/1 pp
Information will be added to the wiki soon
"Strength to kin and kind, Salere," Tiwa the Drahken said. "... what does it mean to be a swollen member of the soulshard nation. I am not familiar with your kind, but you seem of the appropriate size."
~Divine Gathering in the Soulshard Nation~
A flash of light flooded through the place where Schi'vya and Astriluxus stood, followed immediately by thunder slicing the air. A storm that had not been there a moment ago broke above them. Great torrents of water fell from the sky, drowning the land and causing floods.
"What," a voice asked as Harkon rose from the water, his one eye glaring at those gathered there, "is this?"
One of the serpent's four limbs held a water elemental, which he hurled against a wall. The creature crumpled to the ground.
"I apologize, he's being melodramatic," the voice of Armal burbled as he floated along the waters that were rising in that place. "But his question is valid. There is thieving about.”
The storm roiled about above the pillar at which she had made. Schi'vya's blade appeared in her hand. "Well... this is quite unsettling, but rather quite..." She saw a water elemental being thrown against a wall and splatter water everywhere. Rage quelled within her, as the voices within the storm called out.
"Oh, how dare you harm my creations! The elements shall curse your benevolent ways, mighty storm! Fire shall burn, Water shall flow, Earth shall crumble, and Air shall blow!" on the final cusps of the words, a voice shattered the rage within her-- a single word of divine grace. 'Savos.'
A moment before, she had no idea what the word meant, but after the word was repeated in her head, she knew exactly what it meant. She swung the blade from side to side and then pointed it at the storm. "If you would've known better to not spook me in that fashion, I will not use force. But if I have to..."
~Triskelion: near the Soulshard Nation~
Salere bowed his head in regards to the Tiwa's compliment. "What I meant by that was that my people were brought together by the people of the winds, and we banded to gether to keep the Fire lords from destroying what they referred to as an otherworldly connection between them and their home. After that, the Fire lords that thried atacking us instantly became friends, and provided a benefit for us. They became heavylifters, doing tasks that no other normal beings like us could do. They had been brought to us somehow on purpose." He looked over, as a powerluf jolt of lightning flashed down to the ground from far away.
One of the elementals spoke. "Thunderhawks. Creatures that utilize the power of lightning to attack and defend themselves."
"And you say she is a marvelous fighter?" asked Nedjiba.
"Oh yes, the best," replied the diminutive halfling, "She far outstrips any others her age, she is a match in skill and raw talent for all but the most well-trained of our warriors."
"Even the Ogres?" inquired the Bahenet, sounding impressed.
The halfling chortled, "Oh, you should know best of all outsiders, none of our warriors fights without their ogre ally."
"Fascinating," remarked Nedjiba, "But how did she...?"
"Well," said the halfling, suddenly sombre, "Loma is a sad case, a halfling-less ogre."
"How sad," said Nedjiba, though he sounded far more intrigued than upset by this tidbit, "And I assume the girl bonded with this Loma? Sort of replaced the lost halfling?"
"Oh yes, it is quite remarkable really," continued the halfling, "We were understandably very worried by the arrangement, but the girl resembled our fallen sister so greatly, and in her youth was close in size as well, and so we could not deny Loma a second chance."
"May I see the girl?" asked Nedjiba.
"Oh, certainly," replied the halfling, "Wait 'till you see, she's the most beautiful Eladrin I've ever seen."
The Sea of Eden
The bloated body of Thorotrasta seemed to sag as it let out a sigh, pustules popping, sending cascades of yellowish pus shooting in the water. The disgusting creature resembled for all the world a diseased beached whale, excreting its noxious bodily fluids into the surrounding water. The creature seemed to inflate again, and then sag, releasing more pus, and suddenly it became apparent that it was doing it on purpose.
Previously the thing had been like a vast benign tumour sitting in the water, disgusting but harmless. Now, however, it seemed that it was intentionally pumping dangerous toxins into the water, polluting the crystal-clear depths. The venomous pus was now suffusing the water, reaching out and spreading its infection far and wide so that those that lived within the water, those that drank from it, in essence all that relied on the sea, would feel the taint of Thorotrasta and be sickened by it.
The Crossroads
We have been woefully risen.
We the people, gone from this world and yet not, forced back into a world that most obviously has rejected us, find this circumstance infinitely unjust. Our bodies and minds may walk the waking world but our souls belong beneath the forgiving earth. There is nothing left for us here, up in the world that has so cruelly tormented and destroyed us, and so I propose an alternative.
The Land Above is not the rightful way. It has taken us and our brethren from our rightful place and thrust us into pain and bloodshed we were meant to have left behind. And so now it becomes our irrevocable duty to return to the Land Below, the land free of staring eyes and burning bright sunshine, filled with cold sweet death and the eternal promise of peace. We must cast ourselves from the light into our true home, the final sleep from which we have been so cruelly awoken, and we must drag with us those that seek to so ignorantly hide from their true destiny.
I am here to reveal to you a startling truth, ladies and gentlemen, the Peaceful One has been lying to us. He is not true peace, merely the illusion of it. He would have us return to life in order to impose peace through rules and war, but there is another way. Death is the other option. Death is not just an end, it is an idea as well. Death offers to us the possibility of ending all this war and violence by embracing her cold embrace. That my friends is true peace.
And so I ask you now a question: which would you rather follow, an old man preaching of peace, or the loving mother from which we have been wrested? I beseech you all, please, embrace Death, love Death, choose Death! We shall all be the greater for it.
~Transcript from the Death Society's first meeting
1 PP Nourish Populace - The Ogres and Halflings add their numbers to the army being organized by the Ib Mew.
2 PP (1 from Thorotrasta) Denourish Land - The Sea of Eden is slowly being infected by a virulent disease that damages those that partake of its waters.
2 PP Guide Populace - Revenants form the Death Society, a group that believes Death is the only option. They worship the Queen as Death.
Elven Lands
The Mother confessed, she was nervous... far more nervous than she should be! She'd changed forms before, had she not? Right now she was in a very small form compared to her normal one, and she had given herself a tougher hide so she might go underwater before too. She had once no wings, and now she did. But... this was different. This was very, very different somehow.
Okay, calm down... this was for the Itja-Rek. And the Sonnet. And to show the Queen she wasn't come bloated insect... and so that everyone would think she were beautiful on the outside as well as on the inside, instead of just being 'mysterious'. She wanted this, and had wanted this for some time... she shouldn't let nerves over having a humanoid form get to her!
Time to begin... breathing deeply, the fly sized Mother grew, and grew, her shape changing and molding as she did so. Her leg segments were sucked into her body, before true arms and legs grew out of it. Her carapace melted away, and her entire body structure shifted. Her vacules for gathering ear shifted into mechanical lungs, and her osmosis based blood circulation system shifted into the beating heart of a humanoid. Where before she had only antennae, she now had long, flowing red hair. And antennae, she wasn't about to give those up! How humanoids could live without being able to sense the vibrations in the air was beyond her... in the end, the Mother was definitely humanoid, though she had added her own twists. Her flesh was pale green, as was her normal color. Her forehead bore antennae that twitched in the air, and her eyes were still those of an insect. Other than that though, she was in body a humanoid... and it was a very, very disturbing experience!
Oh my, how did humanoids live with all this noise! Her heart beat like a drum, her lungs breathed in and out noisily, and her blood was being pumped through her forcefully instead of merely going where it willed! And her stomach sort of... churned more than it had as an insect. It was rather odd really... and oh my, what was that?? She could... feel things on her... skin? It was a little cold... and the air was a little wet. It would have been unpleasant if she were accustomed to it, but as it was it felt... rather amazing to feel things like this without a layer of chitin to keep it all from her!
Alright... time to see how this body worked. Taking a step, the Mother... clawed the air for a moment trying to find her middle leg segment and collapsed on the ground face first. Owwwwwww! That hurt! Oh wow, humanoids were so... squishy! Moaning a little, the Mother crawled to her feet, wavering unsteadily on her two legs. How did the elves get around without a carapace to protect them? Wait... they DID have something like it, didn't they? Maybe that was why they wore clothes even though they considered each other better looking without them... hm, maybe she should get some of these 'clothes' herself?
Mustering a little more of her power, the Mother was seen dressed in... something. Somewhere between wanting her new form still being able to be seen and wanting to be armored in case she fell again, she ended up wearing a dark green outfit out.. well it was pretty much skin tight chitin, thick enough to protect her but not so thick as to hamper her or hide her new body. The small amount of spikes on it every now and again were probably a bit much, but... she missed her old bodies natural weaponry.
Hm... looked good to her, but she wasn't the ones she was trying to impress! Perhaps she... hold on, did not elves find large chests and abdomens attractive? She had been so focused on the general form she had hardly focused on specifics. Still, looking down, her chest did not seem TOO small... if she made it too large, she would hardly be able to walk! Not that she could walk much as it was... perhaps she should stay as she was? After all the Queen wasn't that... much... bigger than... her... she needed larger breasts. Pumping them up to what she thought was a rather nice size... and making sure they were at least half again the size of the Queens, she hated to admit it but if she was going to do this she might as well try and one-up her... the Mother remembered that elves also liked for there to be holes in their chitin that displayed the tops of the fat reserves in the chest area. This seemed rather silly to her, it would hardly do much to protect her chest area, but she might as well follow their odd standards anyway... and she also didn't have large enough fat reserves in her abdomen, or wide enough hips... apparently elves were attracted to those who looked like an hour glass! Well, no matter, those were easily enough sorted too, and the extra weight in the back did wonders for balancing out the front somewhat.
Hm... she thought that was all right? Now to see if she'd actually gotten the elves odd opinions on beauty right and- oh Mothers she was falling again. She needed to get this walking on two legs thing right first!
The Epherim who had brought her the report bowed and exited the room. Jadewings clicked her tongue. Her antennae twitched in irritation. The Swordwings could not fish the sea if the sea were fishless!
Later that day, Jadewings, her prime consorts, and her two favorite clutchmates departed the burgeoning Kyrion hive-city of Kyori -- the five-being scouting party intent on discovering what was poisoning the seas.
They flitted several meters above the oceans, looking for the source of the toxins.
~Outside the Hive~
The haze of pink pheromones from the melding had eventually come to cover a large expanse directly outside the hive. It was odd, really, sometimes the mounds of rsoy particles seemed like another creature unto itself, simply waiting a divine energy to give it true form and purpose.
-2 PP Guide: The Kyrion form the nation of Kyori
-1 PP Teach Populace: The Kyrion Epherim become expert weavers and spinners of fine silk, though since they are the only variety of Kyrion that makes use of clothes, they have been accumulating an impressive stockpile. Kyrion Swarmmaidens have spinnerets, and consent to be "milked" for their silk, occasionally.
"Quite right," Armal said, bobbing his one eye in what he hoped was a sagely fashion.
"Truly spoken," Harkon agreed, his eye moving in time with his twin's. "Water shall flow."
The blue serpent, its waters a luminous glow, twined its way around Schi'vya's form. "The thing is, Shee... I can call you Shee, right? The thing is, you're not water. And there in is the crux of the problem. See that elemental over there? Do you see how it is rather watery? Do you understand what you've done?"
"Armal," Harkon said, his one eye carefully examining the wind god. "A moment, please"
"Of course, of course. Excuse me, Shee," Armal said. He patted Schi'vya's shoulder then slithered away towards its twin. "Yes, Harkon?"
"I'm not sure she does understand."
"What do you mean."
"She's talking to the storm."
Armal turned and watched the goddess. True enough, she seemed preoccupied with raging at the storm. "I told you not to be melodramatic," the water god said to his other half.
"I doubt this is entirely my fault. Did you hear her? She said that the elements will curse our benevolent ways. Benevolence is a strange thing to curse," Harkon said.
"What should we do?"
"Perhaps leniency? She might be faking an insanity plea, but... well, if so, it’s a fine act."
"Good point."
The twin serpents turned back to the two other gods and slowly advanced again. "Schi'vya-" Harkon started before Armal interrupted him.
"Or Shee, if you prefer."
"Yes, Shee. Given your current..." Harkon twirled a talon as he searched for the proper word, "condition, we are willing to give you a second chance. Renounce your squatter’s rights over these creatures, apologize, and we will let your faux pas fade from our memory."
~The Sea of Eden~
Worry spread throughout the Mazunti race. It seemed every day there were new reports of formerly healthy individuals falling ill and dying. Entire settlements had been eradicated by this mysterious plague. The priests gave their prayers, looking for divine guidance, and the charlatans worked the beat, plying their wares that promised to cure the sick or ward off the illness before it reached their homes.
Some called for hunting parties to be gathered and sent on a quest to find the source of this miasma. Others urged the Mazunti to travel from their plagued land. And yet others delved into superstition and dark arts, hoping to find the answer in less savory avenues and unholy gods.
At long last, Itja-Rek returned home, ducking into his tomb as quickly as he could, avoiding the few orcs and yeti that yet struggled across his mountain. He would have to ask the Reaper what exactly had gone on here.
Once inside, and the door shut and sealed behind him, Itja-Rek went down, dragging the nearly-dead Orc behind him until he came to the base of the great central room and beyond, fiddling with the far wall for a moment. He had installed another layer of god-proof metal to the far end of this room, so in many ways this back room was its own plane in and of itself.
There! The latch finally caught, and with a gentle whirring of fine-kept machinery, a section of wall slid away, revealing the dimly lit room beyond. Itja-Rek strode through the door and palmed a control on the other side. As the door slid shut, he looked down at the Orc.
"Lets get you set up... shall we?" He said softly, picking up the Orc and moving it towards a corner of the small room where a blood-stained table waited. Atop the table lay a metal boat-shaped ovoid, flat-bottomed with a dome of glass attached to it with fine metal hinges. Itja-Rek effortlessly lifted the orc into the boat, resting the beast's head just beneath a small depression that held a small glass jar, held in place by a copper band and stoppered with rubber.
Itja-Rek reached for a tube that led to a tank on the wall and picked it up, holding it over the Orc.
"You know what..." he said to the unconscious Orc, "This hurts a lot, and last time the elf nearly broke his arm when I did this. Lets change the protocol."
With his free hand, he reached into the Orc's chest, pushing through the flesh and pulling out the soul. Dangling it between thumb and pointer finger, he used the rest of his hand to remove the stopper and then dumped the soul into the glass jar before replacing the stopper. The soul pressed its hands against the glass, crying out to be released from the mortal coil, but Itja-Rek merely smiled.
"Trust me, its better this way." He said as he raised the tube to the Orc's mouth and forced it inside before hitting a switch with his foot.
Blue liquid flowed out of every orifice of the Orc as the embalming fluid began its work, forcing its way into each organ in turn and preserving it perfectly. It only took about a minute for the entire process to occur, as indicated by the eyes, which were the last to be preserved in the blue fluid.
The embalming process done, Itja-Rek used metal straps to fasten the Orc in place, one across the forehead, one across the chest and one just above the knee.
"At least this part is easier than with the Trilobites... trying to put that one in place was... very difficult." he said aloud to the soul, which was looking down at its former body in horror.
Itja-Rek lifted the pod so that it was vertical and waited for the liquid that had pooled at the bottom to flow out onto the floor, where it would flow into a drain and eventually back into the tank. Once the fluid had left, Itja-Rek closed the glass lid and fastened it in place before moving to the far wall opposite the entrance. Here he found another concealed latch and released it before picking up the pod and carrying it through the open door.
The cool, damp room beyond the smaller embalming room was circled by alcoves, of which about a dozen were filled with pods not unlike the one he was carrying behind him. In each, a sentient being hung, their soul resting above them and despondently staring out of their prisons. Trilobite, Naga, Elf... even one of the rarest of rarities, a human stood in a mockery of life in the pods. Moving to an empty alcove, Itja-Rek pushed the pod into it before stepping back and admiring his growing collection.
"I think I need a Bahenet next" he said to himself as he turned to leave, shutting first one door and then the next as he left his Tomb.
But first... he should visit Aaviz again... make sure the wizard-god had not sent his personal floating continent into the void or some other such nonsense. Itja-Rek sped off in the direction of the Ever-falls and Ordarak-Rek.
~The Crossroads~
We have been given another chance.
When we perished the first time, we were lost, our souls floating endlessly in the great void, our minds crying out for warmth. Our bodies had withered away, each of us losing hold of that which was right, and we were alone. Alone in crushing darkness.
But then! A light! Drawn backwards through the veil that separates this world from the nothingness beyond, our souls were placed back in flesh and our hands spasmed with the spark of life once more. We, who had been silent for ages, were given voice, given a new chance.
We thank you, Soul-Father, for your boon. We eagerly await the chance to find you and your warm embrace and join the throngs of faithful that ring your form with their cries of praise and worship. Holy, Holy Holy is the name of the Soul-Father.
From this day forth, let us not know the touch of another God's hand, let us scorn the sound of their voice and let us march from their temples. The Soul-Father asks us to come, and I, no... We will follow."
~Transcript from the first meeting of the Church of the Soul-Father
2 PP: Create Plane: The Soul-Sanctum, a plane within the Tomb which is its own special place.
2 PP: Found organization: The Church of the Soul-Father. It is founded in the Crossroads/Revenants.
'Shee. This thing seemed a bit more troubled than I had thought.' She saw two forms of water flow out and speak to each other-- forms radiating with a divine presence stronger than her elementals.
One of them spoke to her in some sort of condition. "And what does me not 'being of water' have anything to do with the elements? You mean to tell me that you want me to destroy my creations? Destroy the elements? DESTROY MY GOOD NAME??? You can have them for all I care, but I WILL NOT DESTROY ANYTHING I PUT INTO THIS WORLD! I will not let anyone or anything destroy my good name!"
The earth around her started to coalese onto her form, flames erupted from the cracks between the rocks, water flowed around her arms, aided by the winds of her original form. Her head remained the same, but her body had been changed dramatically. She had roiling magma on her chest, followed by watery legs and arms swirling in the wind currents. She still held on to the sword.
She glared angrily at the twin water gods. "This is what I am! The Lord of the Elements!"
Flames erupted around Draekan, as he became a swirling mass of wind and fire. He had gleaming eyes that spoke of retribution; the winds swirled around his arms.
A column of water sprayed up from behind her, and Tarranat reformed from behind. The waters gleamed off from Draekan's flames. The winds circled his arms in the same fashion.
The winds grew tumultuous, as Sephan's form appeared in the currents. He looked the same as if he was before the divine power touched him, but he had developed more powers from his standard array.
The earth in front of her cracked, and Dorith formed in a series of large and small rocks, which outlined the limbs, the head, and her body. The winds carried small chunks of rocks around her arms.
"And these are my Elemental Guardians!"
The air elementals present started to gather around the group of Exarches; followed by the Fire Elementals. Earth rumbled, and a group of Earth Elementals rose up from the ground nearby; Water elementals follwed from behind the Earth elemental's hole. Soon, the whole nation was overwhelmed by elementals of all types.
"And these are my children. My precious creations that have a mind of their own. Unlike the stubborn monsters that only think of instinct, my children think of civilization."
Armal's head popped up at Schi'vya's words. His one eye scanned the place where they had gathered, turning a full circle inside his head. Not finding what it sought, it circled again, this time with Armal's head turning the opposite direction at the same time. Still Nothing.
"Destroy? Who said anything about destroy?" the blue serpent asked. Leaving his twin, he again slithered over to Schi'vya's now elementally frame. He rose up out of the flood water, stood on his two back limbs and flopped an arm around her air-y, magma-y chest.
"Shee, darling, no one out here said anything about destroying anything. Did voices tell you something about destroying, voices in here?" Armal asked, a talon tapping Schi'vya's head. "As a side note, you really should talk to your tailor. That outfit look hideous. Those colors, this time of year? Please, you look like the apocalypse of the Plane of Fashion."
"As for your good name," the grey serpent that was Harkon added, "You really only have yourself to blame. Stealing things that don't belong to you tend to ruin a reputation. And wearing such outfits. And... well, I'll stop there, I think you've gotten our point."
"This is what I am!" Schi'vya bellowed at the twin serpents, "The Lord of the Elements."
Armal shook his head in frustration and he pushed himself off Schi'vya's sholder. He looked at Harkon, rolled his eye, and threw all four limbs up in frustration.
"Schi'vya," Harkon started.
"Shee!" Armal corrected.
Harkon sighed but continued. "Shee, you can call yourself whatever lies you like, we don't care, save for one. You are not the lord of waters. You never have been. Other than stealing our waters to make your shoddy elementals, have you ever even done anything with water? Have you made it thrive in the world? Have you listened to it weep at night after it has been abused? Have you laughed with its currents?"
"Yeah," Armal added, "Have you ever laughed with the currents? And have you ever heard the wolf cry to the blue corn moon? Or asked the grinning bobcat why he grinned? Can you sing with al the voices of the mountain? Can you paint with all the colors of the wind?"
"Shut up," Harkon suggested. Armal closed his mouth and slinked back a few steps.
"If you want to call yourself the master of fire, fine," the grey serpent continued again, "Other than your little fire elementals, you've done nothing to claim that element. Umbart's made all those fiery volcanoes, I made the heat of the sun, but whatever. Fire is a dull element, you're welcome to tell people you're the master of it."
"And earth?! Syrenne crafted the globe of the world, Umbart his mighty chains, I the godspire, and each of us more. Have you so much as crafted a mountain range? But whatever, call yourself the countess of mud."
"Even wind! If you weren't born to it I might gainsay your right to it for all your actions. But who cares? You can get away with such lies because there is no one who really cares about those elements. But I care about water. You can't steal it."
"Yeah," Armal added enthusiastically, forgetting what had happened last time he did so. "And you're a lady; you can't be the LORD of anything."
"Shut up," Harkon offered.
"Aawwww," Armal responded.
Schi'vya didn't seem persuaded by the arguments of Harkon and Armal. Her servants began to make an appearance. "And these are my elemental guardians!" she said.
Armal rounded on Harkon. "Insanity plea, huh? What do you call that?"
The blue serpent pointed to Tarranat. "Looks like a repeat offender to me. Looks like PREMEDITATION to me!"
"Calm down," the grey serpent urged. "Clearly this only helps her case, as who in their right mind would display more stolen goods when the rightful owner comes knocking. She's nutters."
"Seems like you are just seeing what you want to see. She was unlucky this time; if we hadn't actually been working with all the waters of the world when she created those elementals, we wouldn't have noticed. Clearly she's violated our waters before. How do we know it has only been these two times?"
"Let's ask?"
"Sure, couldn't hurt."
Ignoring the flotsam and jetsam that the goddess had caused to wash up, Harkon and Armal approached the goddess again. "We have a bit of a disagreement, perhaps you can straighten things out for us. First, are you completely insane? Second, how many times have you stolen our waters? Just these two?"
"And to make myself clear-- I DO CARE ABOUT THE ELEMENTS! I do care about the fires, the shapes of the earth, the currents of the air, the beauty of the waters! If they don't really give a damn, then I do!
"Oh, and by the way... I am not insane... I am perfectly fine the way I am. And who's to say a goddess cannot be a Lord? Hmmm?."
Her conscious efforts to keep her calm have already started to take effect. "And I acknowledge for you being a god of waters. I respect that. But I will not tolerate such gods to put me out of my misery for something that I did-- something that anyone could have done. They chose not to, because it was not in their best interest. I had the choice to either stay with the same, boring element, or to expand my horizons. I wanted to experience what it was like to feel all of the power of the Elements, and I must say-- I very well love it!" She laughed with glee at her last words.
Tired and slightly bored, the twin serpents waited as Schi'vya gave her speech. Armal scratched a grid in the flood waters and the two played tic-tac-toe. Given that they were the same god, neither was able to best the other. A full three minutes passed after the wind goddess stopped laughing before either noticed she was done.
"Ah, there we go," Armal said as he nudged Harkon and nodded at the offender. "I think she's done."
"Better wait a few minutes, just to make sure."
"Good plan."
The two went back to their game. Three tied games latter and still no further words from Schi'vya convinced them that she was done. The twins looked at each other meaningfully. After a moment Harkon blinked, cursed, and admitted that he lost the staring contest.
Harkon pushed himself up from the floodwaters that they all stood in, threw his head back in what he hoped was a dignified manner, and proceeded to speak. "So, you refuse the insanity plea? A shame, it fits you so well. Though I suppose thinking your sane when you are clearly not could itself be proof of insanity, but... well, that would lead us to arguments within arguments, and you're already making my mind hurt. Let me summarize the case against you. I am Harkon. I AM water. Quite literally. Itja-Rek gave water consciousness, and that is me. So, when I say that you've stolen my waters, please understand that this is a very personal matter. All I've asked is that: 1, you apologize for stealing that which is rightfully mine, B, you renounce whatever illegal claim you think you may have, imagine you may have, or want to have regarding my water, and Purple, that you never do it again."
He turned to Armal to ensure that he had covered the charge adequately. His twin nodded but added that he had forgotten Shee's crimes against grammar. Satisfied that everything was covered, Harkon continued. "In response you've yelled at a storm, you have given a 1 and a half star show of force, bringing another affront to our attention in the process, claim that you love that which you rigorously and methodically ignore, and... well, generally come off as addled in the brainpan. To date your defense consists of... you love water... and earth, and fire, but mostly water. Now, no one can blame you for being bored with wind. I mean, it is wind. Wind and craptacularness are essentially synonyms, and in the right dialect, homonyms. Water is clearly superior. But, you still stole. Now I'm generous, it isn't as if I horde water. But there is a difference between using something with permission and stealing it. You've stolen, you've refused to defend yourself, and so we have no choice but to find you guilty."
Armal was getting tired of Harkon's verbosity and interjected. "Listen, SheeMeeBoFeeDe... I can call you SheeMeeBoFeeDe, right? Listen SheeMeBoFeeDe, you've stolen, you're guilty, and now your sentence."
The blue serpent recoiled and started hacking. After a moment a saliva covered albatross come out. Armal picked it up and gave it to SheeMeeBoFeeDe. "We're sentencing you to three hundred million hours of public service with disadvantaged Eladrin children. Which, given that they are eladrin, is the entire race. And we are stripping you of your ill-gotten elements. Water is to return to the sole control of Harkon Armal. As Earth and Fire currently have no rightful heirs, they will be held in trust by the state until such time as suitable owners can be found. You can have wind, I guess. Nothing better to do with it. But if you attempt to steal things that don't belong to you again... well, that's what the albatross is for."
It was Harkon's turn to be bored. "Done?"
"Done."
"Finally."
"Well, these things have to follow proper protocol and form."
"Your butt has to follow proper protocol and form."
"Oh I'll get you for that."
One serpent began to chase the other and soon they had swam out of sight, leaving Schi'vya with their verdict and a slightly moistened albatross.
Schi'vya saw the twin serpents fly out of sight. She chuckled. "Heh... charges? What is this, a Monarchy? I have better things to do than sitting here, watching nothing being used when there is great potential for it. If there really was a Monarchy, I would expect someone whom had a better judgement than those two. What do you think, Astriluxus?" She looked up towards the dragon-god. She scratched the bottom of his chin. "Do you think they've gone nutters instead?"
Draekan's flames subsided, revealing his true form. "Well... that was certainly unexpected..."
Tarranat's watery form also subsided. "I think you certainly ticked someone off. Though I do agree with you-- I think they have gone nutters." He twirled a finger on the side of his head, suggesting insanity.
"Sha, how do you like this?" asked Nefrew.
"Breathtaking my lady," replied the Eladrin girl softly.
For all intents and purposes, the girl's adjective wasn't far from the truth. With the brilliantly white dress setting off her darker skin tone, she did look truly magnificent. Spinning once, then twice, Nefrew watched as the folds of the dress rippled and danced with the movement in the great big mirror. Her mother, sitting on a nearby stool, clucked appreciatively.
"You make quite the bride," cooed her mother, before springing up, "And I know just how to complete the look."
She snatched up a gauzy veil from a side table and affixed it into Nefrew's mane of dark curls, securing it to a glittering tiara set with jewels imported straight from the distant Golden Forest. Being the Twin sister of the Seshem certainly had its perks. The look complete, Nefrew's mother, Lady Sedjem, stood back to admire the effect.
"Wonderful," whispered the Eladrin girl.
Lady Sedjem's head snapped around as if suddenly alerted to the girl's presence, "You girl, go fetch us some of the golden leaves my son brought back from his most recent trip, they would certainly escalate the look to a whole new level."
But she was interrupted by her daughter. "No mother, I think it's just perfect the way it is," said Nefrew, unable to tear her gaze away from the mirror.
"Oh, well, if you think so..." said her mother doubtfully, and then turned to the Eladrin "Then perhaps fetch us some refreshments girl."
"Mother, ordering around my protegee again, I see?" came the voice of Nedjiba filtering from the next room.
"Jiba!" exclaimed Nefrew, tearing his eyes away from the mirror to watch her beloved brother stepping into the room.
"Nefrew!" scolded Lady Sedjem, "You shall call your brother by his title! He is the Sedjem to you, to me, and to everyone who respects the Ib Mew!"
"Oh but I'm his sister! He doesn't expect-" but she was cut off by the odd glint she caught in her brother's eyes, and fell silent.
"Helping out I see, Mesha," said Nedjiba, turning to regard the young Eladrin, and Nefrew couldn't help but roll her eyes.
When her brother had indoctrinated the poor girl to his vaunted cause, he had rechristened her "Mesha Mew" which meant Soldier of the Mother in the old tongue. He had done so in what Nefrew liked to call a "Kai Moment" when he displayed the kind of religious fervor so often associated with the pious Kais, priests of the Khered-Mew. Today he appeared to be wearing his Seshem hat, for he was all business, and almost immediately plunged into a discussion with Mesha about the ongoing military preparations.
It was at this time that Nefrew began to feel uncomfortable. She herself still followed the path of Itja-Rek, and yet was surrounded by those who did not. Her heart belonged back in Baheshep, which remained loyal, and yet it must always reside with its other half, with her brother Nedjiba. And so she and her mother busied themselves with undressing her while the Seshem and his protegee discussed the campaigns in the West.
This protegee in particular saddened Nefrew most of all. She saw the childlike wonderment in the girl's eyes, which reminded her so much of herself. But she saw also the fervent devotion and fanaticism to the Seshem and to the Ib Mew, and the zealotry with which she supported these causes was enough to cause alarm to one as predisposed to such as Nefrew. She hoped only that she would not be robbed of all her youthful verve and become just another faceless drone in the clockwork machine of the Ib Mew. Already dark-skinned giants culled from the far-reaching recruitment campaigns darkened the skies and the hearts of the Bahenet. Nefrew just hoped it could all come to a close soon enough.
"And so the colony on the far-golden continent has proven most fortuitous for our cause," continued the Seshem to Mesha, "The riches we have amassed from that place is enough to finance this whole war and more."
Mesha's eyes were alight with that ominous fanaticism as she nodded fervently.
"And the ranging scouts find even more fresh blood each day," Nedjiba finished, "Isn't that wonderful sister?"
Nefrew sighed, and consigned herself.
"Oh yes, just marvelous."
5 PP Nourish Populace - Ib Mew - Death Giants join the ranks and they establish a colony on the far Golden Forest Continent, which provides some much needed financial support for the cause.
There are also "recruitment scouts" ranging through the Triskellion continent, so if anyone wants to RP, just tell me.
Elven Lands
Oh dear... why did she feel so nervous?? She was a Mother, she shouldn't be feeling like this at the prospect of entering the village of Children! But... well, this was different wasn't it? In her old form, it didn't matter if the humanoids regarded her with fondness or not, but in this new form tailor made to be appealing to them and the Mothers who had made them...
The Mother looked down, futilely trying to straighten out her already skin tight armor. She cupped her breasts worriedly, had she made them big enough? Had she made them too big? She'd seen that the largest of the elven women seemed to be the most desired, but she hadn't seen any with breasts quite this big! Was that a good thing, or was there some point where breasts could be too big! And why did her back hurt! Why did anything hurt, she was so used to being practically invincible in tonnes of chitin that this was all very strange and worrisome to her! Well, the sea water had stung her carapace before she shifted it to a water proof form, and she had been weakened from birthing before, but...
She should stop worrying, if worse came to worse, she could simply shift into her old form and eat them all. Not exactly what she wanted to do though...
Taking a deep breath, the Mother walked on her two legs. It had taken some time to get used to that! The humanoids made it look so easy, but it was rather difficult when used to walking with six... though she confessed the extra weight on her front and back compared to most of their kind had probably made it more difficult than it would have been. She had finally mastered it though... it involved a fair bit of momentum, and swinging the bottom of your body side to side so that you were never off balance. Truly a complicated system indeed, she'd never realized humanoids were quite so... complex!
It was daytime in the village, though in the middle of the day when it was too hot to hunt. This would perhaps be a good time to be traveling, or else resting in shade somewhere, but the land here was still strong, and so it would be some time before the elves had to move on. As it was, the men lazed about in the shade of the outside while the women toiled away within the huts and tents.
At least, they HAD been lazing about. When the Mother entered, they straightened a little, expecting some threat... then straightened a little more when they actually saw what was coming into their midsts. She was green. She had antennae. She had compound eyes. She was dressed in rather threatening looking armor. And by the gods, did they not give a damn.
The Mother stopped a little wobbly when she realized she was being watched. By a lot of people quite keenly. It was... not really an experience she was used to! She got looks wherever she went, but it was of friendship, or horror, or the love one had for their Mother. This seemed... different. It was exotic, and somehow... a little intoxicating.
"Um... hello?" the Mother attempted to greet them. There were a few mumbled replies as they continued to stare. Oh dear, maybe she HAD gotten some of her form wrong? Perhaps it was best to ask if she'd gotten it right... "Do you like my breasts?" the Mother hazarded, pushing them up a little more so they could appraise them better.
Those that didn't faint were VERY quick to voice their approval.
------------
The Hive
It took some time, but eventually the First was finally able to begin to live up to his promise to the Mother to look after all of those who dwelled within the Hive. The Mother had not been seen for some time, but despite that the Trilobites and even the Troinats continued to flourish, the Hive giving off an unusually large bounty of food for them all to share. And share they did, the trilobites and troinats growing closer through their similarities far more than they were put off by their differences.
With a figure more or less chosen by the Mother to lead their race, the trilobites old form of having small tribes began to dwindle somewhat. Or rather, it continued, but there was a chief among chiefs, a First among the elders. Many a time when faced with a crucial decision an elder would trek to the Chamber of the First and seek council... and sometimes, divine favor. Soon enough the Troinats were doing so too, and soon what once was a simple housing for a tribe became a small flourishing pilgrim city, the entire chamber devoted to tending to the First and housing those who sought his wisdom. Fresh flowers were laid before him ever day, and songs were sung of the Mother and the prosperity and peace she and her servant had brought.
The change from trilobite and troinat to a single nation between the two of them was so subtle that they hardly even realized it was happening. But under the love of the Mother and the guidance of the First, how could it not?
1PP + 1 Arbitration PP from the First - Guide Nation (The Mothers Brood) - The Trilobites and Troinat form a nation, or perhaps more accurately a way of life. The Mothers Brood is a Theocracy ruled over by the immortal First, but is far more of an open democracy with each tribe free to do as it will as long as it doesn't harm the others than a monarchy or tyranny.
1PP - Nourish Troinat - The Troinat flourish due to a bounty of good food and good times.
1PP - Nourish Trilobites - The Trilobites flourish due to a bounty of good food and good times.
1PP - Nourish The Mothers Brood - The Mothers Brood grows ever larger as more and more find contentment in the ways of the Mother.
5/9
"Of course he is unstable. He was talking to himself," a voice said as the floodwaters drained away. The clouds above were dispersing and new light was helping to speed the process of drying. Mist appeared over the receding waters, but some of it began to pool and build a humanoid shape with four arms.
"To be fair, there were two of his selves, but the point remains." When Despair was fully formed he bowed to the two still gathered there. "My greetings to you, oh immortal gods. And my apologies as well for my master's behavior. As we cannot choose whom we serve, I do hope you won’t let your perceptions of me be tainted by him."
Despair stood upright again and began to approach Schi'vya and Astriluxus but he stopped abruptly a good distance away still. With an arm he pointed to the Albatross that was at the goddess's feet. "You should dispose of that creature. As a master of the elements, you undoubtedly know that albatrosses are bringers of misfortune. My masters may be unstable, but do not take them lightly. They'll hound you. Undoubtedly that creature is meant to be a warden, something to keep watch to see if you will break your sentence. Please do not take his behavior as a sign that his temper will cool, or that he does not find his ire justified. There are few tyrants as cruel as those who think they are morally justified."
"Another mark of his unstableness," Despair said, looking to the dragon god. "It offends sensibility that he would be upset with the lady here for crafting creatures from that which belongs to him when he has done the same to you and your dragonborn. All the more reason to be wary, an insane foe is one that can strike with over measure at any moment. The best strategy is to deal with him before he has a chance to return. Though again, I recommend killing that albatross. My master may be listening in through it even now."
Quickly looking at the albatross, he waves a talon over it quickly in a circle.
Somewhere across the veil~
A bemused Aaviz suddenly finds a wet albatross at his feet.
Back at the Portal~
"Splitting ones mind like he did isn't very smart, hence the reason why he is quickly going insane. I'm sad to say that his creations if he is not careful will follow suit eventually."
"Well, this seems very enlightening." She saw the wet albatross disappear on Astriluxus's command. "So, I take it that you have grown tired of your master's behaviors. One could see why. Perhaps if he was a little more... oh, how should I say this... judgemental, one would think that he wouldn't be so unstable.
"And what about Astriluxus and his Dragonborn? You mean to tell us that he had done something with some of them, and he had no idea about it? Well then perhaps Astriluxus should give this Harkon-- your master-- a little visit, eh?" She winked.
Despair fixed the wind goddess with the red lights of his eyes but did not approach the two anymore. "I am my master's servant. What sort of servant would I be if I did not attempt to prevent even he from harming that which he holds dear? If he needs to be dealt with, let it be out of compassion."
Water from the storm rains dripped from Schi'vya's hair. As the droplets fell they caught the light and appeared white. Yet when they hit the ground so they remained, and drip by drip an albatross appeared from the water that ran off the goddess. It looked the same as the one that Astriluxus had disposed of, but then again, mortal creatures often appear the same to the divine.
"A persistent nuisance, those. Might I suggest a more fitting means of disposal? Let wind vanquish water," the demigod said, pointing to the sword of the winds that was still in Schi'vya's hand. "As for what my master did... well, he's the ultimate cause as to why some of your dragonborn have been tainted, twisted. I believe there are some not far from here, even now, talking with a patrol of this state. They call themselves the Drahken. Such as they came about because my master took umbrage with another god, much as he has with you, oh mistress of the winds. It is because of him that an entire nation sank below the earth. Does that seem right to you?"
Schi'vya whispered the command word, and a bluster of wind wrapped around the blade in swirling darkness. She thrust the blade deep into the heart of the creature that laid before her. The darkness seeped into the creature's mind, causing it to spasm and crawl around the ground, choking fluids. In a few moments, the creature laid silently still. She covered the bird creature in a small hole.
"Well, that took care of that. So, yu say that there are Drahken wandering about the Triskelion? So they used to be slaves for this one nation? Hmm... this is starting to become very interesting. I guess I must've missed it all while I was in the Godspire. How time flies by when you can't see the sun."
Elven Village
This was... not exactly what the Mother had intended! The men all seemed.. captivated by her. Wanting her. Looking at her with naked lust and desire in their eyes. And she admitted... she loved it. To actually be seen as not merely a Mother, but a woman. For others to desire her not just for her mind, but for her form. To be given so much attention when they no doubt were not even sure if she was a Mother or merely a mortal... it was wonderful. She loved it, though she was still the same Mother inside and rather shy in such matters. She had to blush a little bit when the men grew bold enough to do whistles and cat calls, even if she did like the attention... and for some reason seeing her embarrassment incited them further! Humanoids certainly were strange!
But then... when everything seemed to be going so well, the women showed up. She had only considered appealing to the men, not the women, figuring their similar mind sets and gender would help them bond like they had always done before with her and her Children. But... these women seemed a little angry at her for drawing all this attention away from them! She... supposed it was natural. If she loved this attention, they no doubt would too, but surely they could wait their turn or settle for their mate! Once they stopped drooling... they started to yell at their mates as though angry with them, perhaps trying to get attention with their words rather than their form? But it was all so... the Mother was a Mother of peace, and loved the concept of mating and marriage. To cause such strife among mates was hurtful to her!
The Mother was actually close to tears at the harm she'd seemed to cause when... he came. The reason she took this form in the first place... the one she loved, and hated for making her love him when he seemed to do nothing but do things that hurt her. And he... he said she looked different. And interesting. That... that was no better than mysterious! Had she done all of this for nothing? Was she no better looking now than she had been bef-
The Mother stopped dead when he finished his rambling... nice. He said she looked nice. Not mysterious. Not different. Not 'some parts of me think your form looks kind of intriguing'. But nice. And that tone in his voice... he really did find her... desirable. He'd never sounded like that around her before, or looked at her in quite that way. She knew she should be mad he seemed so shallow, but... but...
The Mother looked down, blushing a little, before walking up towards the Itja-Rek. "I thank you for your kind words, the Itja-Rek," the Mother told him, walking up close before looking up into his face... up... he always seemed so small in her old form, but now she was shorter than him. It was... she liked it. "It is good to know I am not merely... 'mysterious' in this form." There she was bringing up old wounds! "The Itja-Rek, I... I was harsh during our last meeting. I do not approve of everything you have done, but you have always been a good friend to me. And I... did not have full grasp of my emotions. It seemed as though you had never shown me anything but friendship, and when you showed me anything but companionship... it was in the form of accusation. But you could not understand what had been going on, it was merely a making of Children, and... well I..."
The Mother jumped as a particularly large shout came from nearby, grasping tightly onto the Itja-Rek for safety and comfort... oh Mothers, her nerves were a total wreck! And she had forgotten all about this trouble in her haste to talk to the Itja-Rek, it was... "The Itja-Rek, did I... cause all of this?" she asked, looking up at him looking a little vulnerable just then. It probably wasn't nearly as bad as the Mother perceived it, but she hated to see any Children seeming so... upset with one another, let alone with their mates.
"Hell-oooooooo-oooooooo!"
Syreene was perched on top of the casus belli. The Hive was remarkably busy, what with troinats and trilobites alike bustling around with renewed verve. But it was empty of interest to Syreene, and so she moved on.
The Fey Goddess vanished, reappearing in the Sea of Eden. The Kyrion were prospering (though was it just her, or was the water a sickening shade of teal?), but they appeared to have not been disturbed by anything (which, again, made sense, considering Syreene had been gone a scant five minutes).
The Feymother returned to the Hive once more, this time strolling around the base of the superstructure. "Mother?" she called out, more than once. Some part of her realized the futility (All of Sonnet, in fact) but she kept it up for a good half-hour.
Syreene pursed her lips, tilted her head, and sighed. She did not want to simply wait around again. She watched idly as the pink-tinged dust clouds were thrown up by a passing breeze. The goddess walked to the center of the storm, allowing herself to be lifted up by the winds.
The god concentrated, the mounting conflux of divine power shearing the pheromones free from the surrounding strata, enveloping the goddess in a pink nimbus of scent and power. Thus attuned, Syreene tenderly reached out with her mind, probing for The Mother's familiar psyche.
Eventually, she found it, though she knew not where it was (distances and positions were hard enough to judge in the physical world, let alone the chaotic mindscape of one's own design!)
Catiously, Syreene extended a psychic tendril, delicately brushing up against the other mind.
"Mother? It is Syreene and Sonnet. We went looking for you, but you don't appear to be at the hive."
Itja-Rek was doing his best to keep his eyes trained on The Mother's eyes, which at least looked more familiar than the rest of her form. The fact that the other god was now shorter than him meant that certain other parts of her body were always... bouncing would be the right word... into his peripheral vision. He attempted to do his best to ignore them and maintain a sense of decorum, even though his mind was doing somersaults and his stomach (had he had one) would have been churning madly.
"Ah... Mother. It is you. You look... my mind-souls concur with great vigor that you are very appealing to the vast majority of them, and I am trying very hard not to give in to baser desires for you deserve more than that as my oldest and closest friend among all the Gods... All the Mothers."
Pull it together, Itja. he grumbled at himself.
"Forgive me, these are unfamiliar emotions... strong emotions. You appear to have... found a key of some sorts. I have told you that.... ah..."
The Mother had shifted, settling her weight onto one hip and distracting Itja-Rek's already wavering concentration. Struggling, he continued.
"What I mean is, err... I have told you before about why I felt I could not ever find one physically attractive, that the warring component souls within me would not allow enough of a consensus to form on the issue to find any one individual... attractive. I... appear to have been wrong. My souls... they agree... or at least many of them agree... enough to drive the consensus forward."
The Mother spoke, and Itja-Rek listened before replying.
"Yes, I must apologize as well. While physically I have long felt nothing, I find that I have grown emotionally attached to you, and I was... I believe the mortals call it jealous. As for Mysterious, forgive me... it was meant as a compli-OOOF!"
Oh dear. If he had been having troubles before, this was... he now had The Mother plastered against him, or at least plastered as much as a human/insectoid with chtinous armor could be plastered against a being made up of souls. Regardless, it was...
"Ah... Yes. Hello. Err... Well... Err... Mother, this is highly distracting! I... well, I don't think you caused this on purpose. I think that... recall what I said about jealousy? I think... you made the women here jealous with your... body."
"Oh-ho-ho! Now this is very fun!"
He extended his will, and imbuned the chucks with power. They slowly began to move, floating through the skies under their own power. It was slow motion, but motion nonethless. And if it had a pattern, it was so complex, involving the countless islands, that no-one could understand it. Even gods would have trouble with the pattern, if it existed.
"But that's not all...."
He pulsed another bit of power through the chunks, giving them a sense of unity, togetherness, the focus on combining, as well as a sense of separation, and the drive to split apart. He then turned, and watched as two chunks collided. Instead of crashing into each other, they combined, forming bigger chunk. Elsewhere, a large one split, becoming several smaller ones.
"Now this is nice."
-2 PP: Mold Land(moderate): A portion (between half and a third, varies over time) of the floating islands move through the sky in a practically random pattern. They move slowly, but still you would need to re-do maps every decade or so. Sometimes the changes might be big, sometimes small. The floating islands can combine and separate, meaning that some islands can cease to exist, form new islands, etc. This makes map-making even more of a pain. Conservation of Mass is in effect.
7/9 PP
As the Mother pressed herself up against the form of Itja-Rek, a niggling thought wormed its way into the back of her mind. A seed of doubt, growing, feeding on her misgivings, becoming a full-fledged voice whispering into her mind in the Mother's own voice.
"Hear that?"
And then Itja-Rek words came back to her.
"Many of them agree... drive the consensus forward..."
And then her own voice again, echoing as though from a great distance, rebounding off the walls of her own brain.
"He's like a democracy, you know that, deep inside you do."
And then quieter:
"What happens when the democracy shifts..."
The voice grew in strength, rolling over the Mother's brain like a fog cloud.
"You could try to keep up with the consensus... Do you really want to live like that? Beholden to the whims of the dead?"
Then a voice from a different voice echoed out from another part of her mind, a cool mocking tone not unlike the Queen's.
"How ironic, Lady of Life a Slave to Death..."
And then the Mother's own voice returned, much stronger now, practically speaking directly into her ear.
"I can help you though, make him love you no matter your form, no matter his disposition... Just trust me... I know best..."
"Hm, considering the conversation we were having before she wandered off, I can't say I'm surprised by the newest form she's adopted. A very nice one as well, being a strong blend of her own insectoid traits as well as the traits humanoids tend to find attractive. Of course, she probably over did it on the rear and chest area. Probably going to have all matter of pain in her lower back by the time the day is out."
"Still, I do wonder how well those eyes work on a humanoid. I've often wondered about the advantages and disadvantages of a multi-faceted eye. Once she's done with Itja-Rek, I must remember to ask her how effective they are. And that skin tight armor will no doubt begin chaffing soon, as I doubt she realized that she should put some soft padding beneath it to prevent such an occurrence. Ordinary flesh can be surprisingly durable, but also tends to grow angry, red, and irritated surprisingly easy as well. I wonder what she would think of poison ivy. Perhaps I'll give he a few leaves and see how it reacts with her skin. I know it's quite irritating for me, but she might be different. Definitely something else to investigate."
Deciding to make his presence known, he finally walked up. "Hello Mother, a fine new shape you've developed for yourself, though, when you get some time, there are some things I'd like to discuss with you about it. SMall pointers and tips that you wouldn't be familiar with and such. Hello to you as well, Itja-Rek. Been doing well? I've some things to discuss with you as well when you have a few moments. I've spotted some awfully weird stuff recently that I figured you might know about."
Spotting some weird wet bird on the ground nearby. "Odd. this doesn't belong here. I'll send it back." SNapping his fingers, he sent the wet albatross across time and space, to land, in all it's dripping glory, right on top of Schi'vya's head.
The voice did a sort of mental 'harrumph.' Apparently casting your thoughts out to the distant minds was not as precise as previously imagined. Stumbling upon a foreign mind, the dream-prescence thought to perhaps sit and stay awhile. This might be difficult, however.
Imagine a door. You know before you open the door that a lot of somethings will come crashing down on you. But there is something you want on the other side, some bit of information you need to discover. And so you talk to the door, and though the meaning is muffled, you find that the door speaks back, letting its words seep through the cracks in the door. This is somewhat how the mental conversation went, neither party willing to open that mental door lest a torrent of dreamstuff come thundering through.
"I am... a kindred soul..."
The words seethed around the edges of the mental door like gas or vapour, indistinct and hazy.
"The 'him' espoused by my voice is none other than the Thief of Time, Lord Itja-Rek. The 'Lady of Life' none other than the Mother. I am an Mediator you see, and I stand between these two parties doing my best to ensure that all is... understood..."
Though no visual clue was given, it seemed as though the voice was smiling. Something about the way the words whispered about the doorway suggested veiled glee.
"Do you understand?"
Elven Village
The Mother knew it was rude, but... she ignored the Syreen and the Sonnets thoughts. She liked them both, and wanted to show them her new form and see if they enjoyed it, but... she was holding onto the Itja-Rek, who was saying all these nice things to her for a change. She wanted to enjoy this... just for a little while...
She loved that he thought she was desirable now... though he seemed to not want to just come out and say it! Instead bumbling around with 'the consensus of the souls within me' and 'it seems you have found a key', it was really... as much as she loved him, he could be such a block head sometimes.
One statement though, she had to hit him softly against the chest for making though. Pulling away from him a little, she looked up into his... mass of souls shaped vaguely like a head. "The Itja-Rek, if we are truly the oldest and dearest of friends, then... why do you fight your base desires?" Snuggling into him a little more, she looked back down, a little saddened he seemed so intent on just staying friends no matter what he actually wanted. "If you feel something, especially with how... objective you can be, should you not attempt to follow up on it? To take what you want, to give into your desires and revel in what they bring? Desires are there for a reason, the Itja-Rek, and that reason is NOT merely to be annoying while you ignore them. Besides," she went on, looking away a little embarrassed. "I am... interested to see what sort of desires the Itja-Rek has for me."
The matter of the women couldn't be ignored much longer... the Mother couldn't help but look down at her body. Or well, the part of her body that more or less blocked out her entire view of anything beneath them. "I... suppose that in attempting to make myself look... beautiful, that I may have created a form worthy of jealousy since few could live up to it," she confessed. She supposed 'bigger than the Queen' wasn't exactly a good way to work things out... "Perhaps if I merely explained that as a Mother its doubtful I could mate with a mortal even if I wanted to? Or maybe I could merely give them all larger breasts so they don't feel jealous..."
Oh, whatever, all that could be worked out later... for now, the Mother was happy to finally have the Itja-Rek in her arms and-
"Hello the Aaviz," the Mother greeted a little acidly... oh Mothers, it was the tomb all over again: her just trying to enjoy some alone time with the Itja-Rek, and anything and everything happening to prevent it. Still... it was nice of him to compliment her, and she had to blush a little bit at it. "Thank you the Aaviz, though... judging by the amount of noise and yelling around, this form seems to be quite appealing without any such improvements."
Looking about to see all the noise she was talking about, he shrugged. "They'll get over it once your gone, yes, I'm sure they will. I don't think you should comment on mating with them though. It would make things worse, no doubt. Though, it is possible. I once had knew a guy who did that quite often. He just found mortals more interesting than gods. Always rattled on that they were more attentive and more eager. Probably as a result of their relatively short life spans, I would suppose, but I've never claimed to be an expert on the matter, not one of any sort. Where was I? Oh yes, the noise. LIke I said, they'll get over it soon enough."
"A mediator, then?" Sonnet's mind-voice seemed to pause. "Very well, I sense there is more to it than that, but I respect your secrets. Indeed, we are familiar with The Mother. Less so with this 'ITdja-wreck'."
The phonetic enunciation reverberated weirdly. "Wait a minute, he was that strange being that appeared, wraith-like, when the worlds warped, is he not? He proposed marriage to... The Monarch." Sonnet's mental speaking slowed. The voice could actually hear the gears in his head spinning at that.
This presence did feel sort of familiar. And Syreene|Sonnet had only met a single god who "harrumphed". Sonnet decided to keep this inference to himself.
"Then let me ask a new question, oh 'kindred soul'. What, exactly, are you mediating between about?"
A low rumbling seemed to murmur from far away, as though like the faintest idea of laughter.
"Oh dear, well it's a lover's quarrel of sorts."
The words of the voice were gleeful but somehow cold and cruel, as though of a spectator commenting on a sport he believed would end only in ruin.
"Love does such strange things to us," continued the voice, "Do you understand my dear?"
Then something like a sigh was released.
"It is the folly of youth to pursue love blindly," said the voice thoughtfully, "And I take it as my duty, being so aged and weathered myself, to temper the bright flames of passion and stoke the cool embers of logic and reasoning."
"And just what are you implying?" Syreene's mind-presence erupted, a bright glaring light that entirely eclipsed Sonnet's pale green glow.
"Itja-Rek proposed to The Monarch. What's his buisness with The Mother? "
Sonnet managed to push Syreene's persona down to a more manageable level. "What I think I'm trying to ask, is 'who is doing the pursuing', and why?"
"Well it seems to be a mutual affair, from where I am standing," said the voice coolly, "Though the Spirited-One seems, ironically, to be mostly in it for the physical..."
"Men!" spat the voice suddenly, though it sounded rougher this time, less refined, "Such pigs!"
The voice sighed once more at this outburst, seemingly in spite of itself.
"Though I would not fault the poor insect, she is often wont to follow her heart, and truly it must lead her only to that which hurts her, only to that accursed Itja-Rek."
A growling rumbling was all that passed between the minds for a long time.
"The Mother... is... impressionable." Syreene|Sonnet managed at last, any sense of individuality lost in their combined emotions.
"If you speak plainly, and can, in fact see them, might I hazard that you were also privy to the situation that caused them to... engage in this mutual affair? Say now, which sought the other out? I have my suspicions, but 'twould be unseemly for myself to jump to conclusions, no matter how rightly founded they might be in perceived truth or real facts."
Elven Village
They would get over it once she was gone? Perhaps she should go now then... but she didn't want to let go of the Itja-Rek, even though the original reason for holding onto him was more or less gone now. Besides, if it was so simple to fix, no use trying to stop it sooner than it did... she would have to try and make it so that this did not happen again the next time she entered a elven settlement, she had taken a liking to the elves during her watching of them!
The Aavizs other comments... confused her though. "If my form requires no improvements, then what changes do you mean?" she asked, looking down and stretching over so she could look over her shoulder and as well down her back as she could. Unintentionally squishing her front against the Itja-Rek while doing so. "I do not see any problems that might arise.. aside from the natural squishiness of such a form," she admitted. "But as Mothers our natural powers are enough to compensate for this is it not?"
Oh dear... she was getting caught up in the Aavizs comments when she should just be telling him to go off and leave her and the Itja-Rek alone so he could speak more about his desires! And perhaps act out on them... "The Aaviz, did you have some manner of business?" the Mother asked a little irritably.
"Well it seems as though the Mother, in her infinite impressionability, adopted the form of one of these creatures termed 'elves' in order to attract attention."
Yet another sigh.
"And attract it she did. Drawn undoubtedly by her womanly allure, Itja-Rek arrived on the scene soon afterwards. To an innocent observer such as I, it seemed as though the physical change of the Mother manifested in Itja-Rek an attraction where there was none previously. Then, no doubt preying on her naivety and innocent nature, the Itja-Rek brought the poor Mother into his confidence."
Again, the impression of smiling was apparent.
"Oh what tragic tales we weave..."
"I have been meaning to ask you though, do those lovely eyes of your actually help you see things better? Or are they generally about as effective as the eyes of these elves? It's a question that's been lurking in my mind for a very very long time, and it just occurred to me that you, having them all the time, would be the perfect person to ask. Also, why did you choose such a unique shade of green? I've seen a lot of green in my time, but never a shade just quite like yours and I'm wondering where you got it from or if you dreamed it up[ on your own. It is quite a nice color to look at."
Elven Village
The Mother frowned a little in thought at all the Aavizs... verbal diarrhea would perhaps be a better term than points. All the mortal men and even the Itja-Rek seemed to enjoy her new form, but the Aaviz instead seemed intent to nit pick any small 'mistakes' she'd made.
Deciding to answer his last questions first, she shook her head a little helplessly. "The Aaviz, I have never had any other sort of eyes, so I could not tell you... and I do not intend to change them just for your morbid curiosity! As for this color, it was the color with which I was hatched with, and so I decided to keep it in this new form... as interesting as the soft pink of elves are, I simply find green so much more... appealing."
Her comments about her anatomy were a little more... well, insulting. Sure, her back hurt a little, but that was nothing compared to the agony of pumping out hundreds upon hundreds of eggs! Men, she swore they had a lower pain threshold than a mere child... she couldn't help but look down at her arm though, flexing it to see if she could feel any chafing. Hm... no, not really. I seemed as though she had made the armor so tight there was no room for it to chafe in! It moved perfectly with her body... thank Mothers she had though to give it flexibility along the joints, or else she might not be able to move! Or she would have had to give it more room, so it would chafe... in any case, did the laws of physics really apply to Mothers?
"I... are you saying my breasts are too big, the Aaviz?" the Mother asked a little concerned. She had... been worried about for a while now, they seemed so much bigger than everyone elses! Admittedly everyone seemed to enjoy it, but... looking up at the Itja-Rek, the Mother pulled away from him a little bit. "Do these seem too big to you the Itja-Rek?" the Mother asked, pushing her breasts up with her arms so he could get a better look. "Oh wait, maybe you should examine them closer," she noted, before taking his hands and putting them on top of her breasts. The Itja-Rek was rather wise in such matters, and liked a thorough examination of things... she was sure that if they were too large, he would know.
He frowns slightly and seems a bit sad. "Perhaps another time on the eyes then. I was simply curious, that is all." Then he brightened. "As I said, it is quite the unique and lovely shade of green. Perhaps I could figure out a pigmentation mixture that could emulate it."
Itja-Rek glared at the other god, who seemed to make a habit of interrupting private conversations. Perhaps his hat carried some sort of detector for them. He listened distractedly as the other two gods spoke, spending the majority of his time thinking about how very pleasant this was, and how very sad he was that he could not fulfill the wishes of The Mother.
He was very, very quickly drawn back to the moment when suddenly his hands were being moved and his souls, especially the humanoid ones began absolutely and completely flipping out.
"Oh... Um... I... I don't really... I'm no expert... I... Ah... No! No, they are just fine. I--" He turned and glared at Aaviz.
"Enough."
His souls billowed out from his body, wrapping around himself and The Mother. After a moment, the souls twisted, and the two gods were gone.
~The Tomb of Itja-Rek~
They appeared on the threshold to the Tomb, and Itja-Rek pulled The Mother inside and slammed the door shut behind them.
"There. No more distractions. This is too important for that. Mother... All I can say to you is that the spirit is very, very, very willing... but the flesh is weak... or in my case... nonexistent... I am souls, and souls are not... well, not worthy of you."
~The Dreamscape~
There was silence for a long time. Well, relatively. After all, the speed of thought is very fast indeed.
The voice that eventually spoke was eerily, almost morbidly, calm.
"We are no fool, Monarch, if that is indeed who you are. We see the subtle twist of your words, the intent to provoke, to goad into ruthless action. You mince in such a way that you would expect us to want to hear -- and yet, we sense too the threads of truth in them."
"It is not inconceivable to us that The Mother would try her hand at crafting a new body for herself -- she told us as much when last we spoke. We know too of the past history between them, that it exists at any rate. It is clear to us that The Mother would not willfully attempt seduction - such is not her way. The crux of the matter lies with the one known as Itja-rek. That one's purported willful disregard for proper decorum, taking advantage of the naivety of his friend, he lost that right with his foolish proposal of marriage."
"We see the strings behind your honey-layered words, and we willfully accept the direction of your influence, at this juncture, at least. We depart now to secure the complete and utter destruction of Itja-Rek. But if you expect a cataclysmic show of force, a forceful quarrel met head on, then you haven't the faintest comprehension as to what you have willingly unleashed."
The mindlink went suddenly and irrevocably dead.
As the god departed, it seemed as though something resembling terribly like laughter echoed behind the closed door.
Syreene|Sonnet blinked rapidly, regaining its focus as the mind-talking faded. It stood on the ground, closed its eyes, and then devolved into Syreene's Grecian figure. Her sandals clicked on the dirt as she surveyed her surroundings. "Sorry, Sonnet. This will be delicate work. It requires that feminine touch that you yet lack, despite my best efforts to beat it into your thick skull." She smiled at herself, and turned her gaze to the still-pheromone covered planes.
A single, swift, thought sent the tiny particulates billowing towards her. A sharp hand gesture brought the gaseous mass into a dense, compact, orb, more crimson than pink. A carefully placed kiss sought to give form and purpose to the raw matter, rapidly expanding into a nebulous haze. Flesh rolled out, followed by fine leathers, a mane of magnificent scarlet hair, and a set of piercing emerald eyes.
It looked like an Eladrin, though even the most powerful of the Archfey couldn't even come close to the being's 7' stature (not even counting the 5" stiletto boots the apparition had fabricated!), and even the cruelest fey lynne couldn't match the feral, hungry, smile gracing the creature's face. She (for there could be no question the eladrin was anything other than female) was garbed in a way most unfitting of an Archfey Lynne, all knee-high boots, elbow-length gloves, luridly grasping bodice, and spiraling, tiered hat, all fashioned from a fiery red leather, and an elegant cloak of an umbral black, gripping her bare shoulders with enough intensity to draw in nearby light. Her hair came down below her waist, and as Syreene looked down at her creation, contemplative, it took the opportunity to strut a few paces, tossing its hair over its shoulder, partially obscuring its face. Its sole visible eye was filled with ravenous desire -- to kill, torture, or maim, most likely.
Ever so slowly, Syreene nodded approvingly at the creature. "Yes. Yes, you'll do nicely. Go forth, Malice, and let those who cross you, despair."
-4 PP - Ascend Exarch - Malice, an arbitration exarch. Appears as a 7.5~' tall Archfey noble, dangerously beautiful. Often shapeshifts into less obvious forms. Malice embodies sensuality in all its forms, and her intrinsic magic allows her to snare any, male, female, humanoid, reptillian, or even more exotic creatures, at whim, easily bending their minds beneath her own. Such victims are not even aware they're being controlled, thinking implanted thoughts are their own ideas -- anything, anything, to garner favor with their most-beloved of Lynne.
The albatross at Schi'vya's feet began to dissolve into white smoke and float upwards. Along the way it remained surprisingly coherent, not dispersing in what was a growing wind. The storm that had been subsiding seemed to be gaining in strength again.
The red lights of Despair's eyes focused on the fading form of the albatross and the demigod's misty shape strode forward. There was something about his gait that indicated he was quite pleased. When Aaviz sent the other albatross back across time and space to Schi'vya's head, it took off like an arrow. Whatever connection it once had with the wind goddess was gone, and this was no place for it now.
As Despair approached Schi'vya and Astriluxus he seemed to grow larger, but the slithering form and the sensual words of the Reaper stopped him short. His eyes flicked between her and the two gods once, which was the only outward sign he gave that this might be a less than ideal situation. When he spoke his voice sounded nothing but sincere. "My dear, a pleasure to see you again."
Storm clouds above began to once again grow thick enough to darken the land, and Despair and the Reaper were harder to see in the dimming light. Wind began to race through the area, howling, screaming, as it went, carrying away words so that they could hardly be heard.
"I may have summarized -- details can be such a bore -- but I only spoke the truth. I can do that, when the occasion calls for it."
Lightning struck nearby, then again, and again, in rapid succession countless bolts raced from sky to ground. "This seems to be ill weather to be caught in. Shall we depart for fairer pastures?"
Despair draped two arms around the Reaper, one across her shoulders and one caressing her waist. He whispered a few words, sweet nothings perhaps, in her ear, which the others could not hear over the cacophony of noise that the storm generated. He fixed the two gods in his vision and said, "Now I believe you were about to go investigate some planar disturbance?"
His fog crept along unseen in the dark of the storm, encompassing them all, blocking out the wind and rain. "I would hate to interrupt such an important task, but I do hope you will consider my words and act soon, before it is too late. If I might be of help... well, I'll be there. I always am. We're in a place between worlds right now; step out of my fog and you'll be where ever you want to be."
He turned to the Reaper. "I hope you'll stay, my dear, when they depart."
Back where the divine beings had been but a moment ago a screech like the heavens tearing apart coursed through the storm. From the clouds several dragon-like heads began to descend, lighting coming from their mouths. In water the image evoked a memory, long forgotten over the ages. Another echo from lost ages was given a new life. Agrilnost, the sheepherder of clouds, the father of storms, the master of wind, was birthed.
4pp Ascend Exarch: Agrilnost, reborn as an exarch. He generates divine PP.
3PP, +1 genesis, +1 arbitration remaining
Itja-Rek smiled and cupped The Mother's cheek in his palm. It felt cold and squishy against the vibrant heat of the other God's flesh.
"Oh Mother, is that all you think of me? That I flit from god to god like some form of butterfly, drawn to candles of beauty and power? You know the first is not true, Mother... up until I saw you just earlier today, I did not even know I could comprehend or feel physical attraction... beauty, if you will. Those sparks I felt were completely locked away from me, and, not knowing their burning fire, I did not miss them."
He looked down into The Mother's many-faceted eyes.
"I know you did not understand when I called you mysterious earlier. One of my souls provided the word for me... it means I am and was interested in you, interested in your mind, interested in hearing your thoughts. It seemed a better choice than merely saying 'you have an interesting and attractive mind', but perhaps I was wrong."
"As for power... well, of that I must admit guilt, although in my defense I did it to protect all of us from Culthet. We were brand-new-cast-upon this new place, and outnumbered by strangers. I did as I thought best, and it has ended up causing me and those I admire most only pain, and the emnity of those I sought to befriend."
The god's other hand came up to rest on The Mother's shoulder.
"Mother... I..." Itja-Rek suddenly turned away, leaving a thin trace of moisture where his hands had rested. He took a few steps away and began speaking quietly.
"I do not speak solely of my body... although it is little more than a glorified corpse-light. I... You... you are a true Goddess, Mother... beautiful, powerful, full of vigor with a sharp mind and wit to match. You are perfect, you always have been perfect ever since the first moment I saw you, freshly emerged from the stormy oceans.
And what am I? I am a scavenger, am I not? I take what you create and use its leftovers to clothe my form, which wraps around not powerful, vibrant life, but cold nothingness. I am nothingness wrapped in things I have taken from those who actually create, playing at being a true Creator when in fact I am little better than an overgrown vulture."
Itja-Rek turned around, but could not meet The Mother's eyes, instead staring intently at the floor.
"And so while my body screams at me to leap upon you (old habits die hard), and my mind yearns to commune with yours in that same intimate way that I witnessed earlier... I... I... cannot. You deserve Perfection, my cthinoid beauty, and I... cannot give that to you, even though I truly, truly wish that I could."
~The Bahenet outpost~
The little baby lay in her cradle, staring upwards at her parents, who loomed over her with huge smiles plastered all over their faces.
"What should we name her?" Her father asked.
"Let us name her in the manner of the people of these parts" said her mother, "for this village is different from Bahetshep."
The Father nodded. "An excellent idea. Did you have a suggestion?"
"I did."
The mother reached down and picked up her daughter.
"Hello, Angelique Pym. Welcome to the world."
Angelique burbled in response.
~The Gathering~
The Reaper nodded.
"I will stay."
~Ker Aash~
The Bryofita ate the food and listened intently to the story.
"But why did the people not recover them earlier?" The ambassador asked. "Why not did the people withdraw back to themselves? That is what The City does when it has lost an expedition. Or do the Bryofita not understand? What is meant by 'The People'?
The Tomb of Itja-Rek
His body was... certainly a little cold, was it not? Did it matter? He was the Itja-Rek. It didn't matter whether his body was souls, or cold, or a rock for that matter. All that mattered was that he had the same mind that he had when he first greeted her when she came out of the ocean. The same mind he'd had when he started to help her make the Hive so that her Children could be safe from the storms of Culthet. The same mind that wanted to hold her back from rushing in headlong into the possible dangers of the unknown to help her Children. The same mind that had... proposed to the Monarch the first chance he'd gotten and- no, no, this was the Itja-Rek! And he was spilling his heart out, she couldn't... hold onto to that sort of feeling in the face of all this emotion, right?
The Mother was maternal and comforting by nature... especially when it was someone she cared so deeply about. Walking back over to the Itja-Rek, the Mother placed a hand on his cold shoulder... which was a lot more difficult than it used to be now that she was shorter than him! Though to be fair if she'd of done it before she'd of risked crushing him...
"The Itja-Rek... are you accusing me of the same thing I've... hurtfully accused you of so many times?" the Mother asked. "I care not if you have a body of souls! You have a wonderful, keen mind, and a tender, warm heart... when it isn't being clouded by your small seed of stupidity," she added for good measure. "I am NOT perfect, the Itja-Rek... if I was, would I have stayed made at you for doing what you saw right for so long? Would I have snapped at you instead of explaining things back with the Sonnet? Would I need to take a form to replace my old form which was... even if you meant it as a compliment, 'mysterious' is not something a woman wants to hear... at least about her body."
The Mother flipped the Itja-Rek around, before hugging him close. "I don't want perfection... I want someone I share much in common with, who makes me feel safe, and makes me feel like I could talk to them about anything... someone who can help me solve my problems, and make Children and other wonderful things with me. Someone who has the same view of unity and community that I do. I don't want perfection the Itja-Rek... there's no such thing. I want you."
The Mother looked up at him a little fiercely just then, before hitting him against the chest with a fist. "Though if you EVER do anything as stupid as what you did with the Monarch again, I swear to my Children I will eat you!"
Itja-Rek sighed and let out a small laugh.
"You're right. I do have a small seed of stupidity, and I have a habit of watering it, don't I? I need to stop that. Would you help me? I could use someone to hit me upside the head when I am acting foolishly."
At The Mother's threat, Itja-Rek laughed out loud and gripped her shoulders with his hands.
"Aren't you a little small to eat me now? Then again, you could always go back to your old form, and then that would be fairly simple. I'll have to be extra careful then."
Silence fell between the gods for a time as they looked at one another. It was a good silence.
As Syreene listened to the Lords and Lyn, Sonnet was fully engaged in a separate matter. In the dreamscape of his mind, he called out to Malice, and the demoness responded.
She appeared as nothing more than a crimson smile, distinct and incorporeal within the confines of their mind. "As was expected of me, I have taken account of the one we know as Itja-Rek." the arc of the crimson smile deepend. "The god had three concentrations of power -- the Byrofita, strange plant creatures on the Sea of Eden, the Bahanet of Kairos, and the Naga, far below the crust of the world, within the caverns of Davos. I could find no other group that worship him."
"He has too an exarch, calls herself the Reaper, that goes around killing things and stealing their souls."
Sonnet's irritated growl filled the silence of his mind briefly. "We are learning about her currently, yes. Get to the point."
Malice's mind-print seemed to flash with pleasure. "He is flawed. I know how to hurt him."
Sonnet slowly matched the feral smile. "Good.... good..."
-----
The Lords and Lyn had scarcely finished their recital when Syreene shuddered, groaned, and forcibly shifted into Sonnet.
"You six. I have a task for you..."
-----
With the Heralds of Seasons off preparing to leave the Triskelion for the first time in... well, ever, Sonnet turned to other matters.
Upon the flat peak of the Triskelion, he shaped a stone anvil, then sent his divine energy deep into the crust of the mountain, dredging up the fine metals he needed. Under the soft Harvest Moon of Mani, Sonnet toiled away. By morning, he had finished. A pair of shackles, made of a single piece of worked steel.
It had not lain cooling on the anvil for long before the item vanished in a swirl of rose-petals. Slowly, Sonnet began to laugh.
-2 PP Create Artifact (minor) -- The Feymire Shackles. Any exarch bound by the shackles loses their access to their innate divine power, finding themselves rendered mute and mortal . Captives may only be freed by godly intervention, or by tricking another exarch to take their place.
Absalom spent a great deal of time walking amongst his people and observing their habits and temperament after their creation. He watched as they planted new Spires, watched as the spires grew as they did. He saw the most gifted of singers begin to coax out the Crystal, creating singing blades that rang with a hint of serenity as they wafted through the air. Mostly, these blades were used in order to run off some of the smaller predators that approached the community. However, where the behemoth roamed the Theyir’Riyeht did not fight, instead withdrawing to the safety of the tree tops or the spires.
His people seemed to have a natural affinity for the world about them, seemed to thrive within these fields and forests as if it was made for them, and in fact it was. A population boom produced newborn Theyir, food was found plentifully, and casualties to either predator or sickness were almost unheard of. Even the spires they had first planted had grown, several rising over two dozen meters into the air already. They thrived, even more so than the God of Beauty had expected
But this was not enough for Absalom. The Theyir’Riyeht were meant to be Empire builders. They were to forge a nation that all others would cow before, with cities that literally sang and danced in the light, with armies that would sweep away all others, with a culture that would be the envy and centerpiece of all peoples. As such, the Children of Beauty needed more direct intervention from their God, even if they did not know him yet.
So, that night, when the communities laid their heads down to rest, all were brought low by a deep slumber. Even the sentries, some of the most trusted and vital figures in the newborn race, could not keep their eyes open even with the mightiest will. As one, the Theyir’Riyeht drifted to sleep, and as one they shared a dream.
The entirety of the new race found themselves in a vision like none had yet perceived. Every individual, young and old, male a female, strong or shrewd, was standing beneath a vast dome that rose nearly fifty meters over there head. The dome seemed to be composed of the living crystal of the spires, but it had been mended and shaped. Intricate arabesque patterns climbed pillars towards the ceilings, carvings so lifelike and masterful that even the Theyir’Riyeht’s fine appreciation of beauty was nearly overwhelmed hung from the ceiling of the dome.
On three sides, massive open arches opened out into the world, so that the Theyir could look out as the sun dipped over the mountains and see that last rays of light dancing amongst an entire metropolis composed of their sacred spires. Hundreds of crossways made of the material arched between various towers, each with large platforms on many different levels upon which rested various stone structures that seemed to have the crystal growing over them. Palaces and parks seemed to hang in the sky, and thousands of Theyir’Riyeht in clothing the likes of which the newborn race had never before seen walked about.
“Take heeds my children, for your destiny sits beyond those arches,” echoed a voice from behind the gathered community, where the fourth wall sat enclosed in a gentle curve. Standing where none before had been, the Theyir’Riyeht saw a golden figure like unto their own, but a hundred times more perfect and magnificent. The entirety of the crowd could not speak as the presence washed over them, the sheer power and energy in the room electrifying their souls but simultaneously cowing it into silence.
“You are meant to craft cities such as these, to build a nation of glory and prosperity the likes of which none before you have accomplished. Within your souls, within your form, is a greatness that was forged within your very beings at your creation.”
Stepping forward and walking through the silent crowd of dreamers, the golden figure approached the gigantic archways that revealed the world beyond. As he did so, the image seemed to shift, to morph. Gone were the towering monoliths composed of majestic crystal, and in its place a familiar landscape could be seen sweeping past.
“I have crafted this land for you, my blood and sweat was spent that it might be ready for my people, and now it is your turn, to claim what has been created for you.”
As the gathered Theyir’Riyeht watched the gently rolling green hills interspersed by various forests drifted under their vision, as if they were a bird of prey gazing down on the land below. “The Valley of Sylium, whose bounty shall allow you to prosper,” spoke the God to identify the newborn races home.
“It stretches many leagues, from the eastern Lake of Virnaan it flows,” at this point the gleaming mountain spring waters could be seen feeding into the vast lake within which that first Theyir had stood. “To the south, the mighty river Rhocaen marks its border, while to the west the river Ghonphlete flows into its twin Cycotus, performing the same function.” The image rushed below the Theyir at an unprecedented rate, speeding fast as vast tracks of land passed below, until two rivers far to the west came into view, both strong and beautiful but neither quite so awe inspiring as the Rhocaen. “All of which finally pass into the sea of Norach, which separates two great continents….”
“Finally to the north, the imposing mountains of Nganek pierce the sky and gather storm clouds about them…” at this the view from the arches seemed to rotate to reveal the massive cyclopic peaks about which gathered pregnant storm clouds. “But beware, for below those peaks lie the caverns of Trusarta, wherein dwellith in twisted paths mighty beasts, and should one travel too far the very end of the world, where a great evil rests and a nation long ago swallowed by the very earth for its crimes lies in wait…”
“All that lies between is to be your land, your dominion, upon which your children and grandchildren will grow to be a great nation, the jewel of the world.” At this point, the Gods voice seemed to grow darker and more ominous. “However, your sovereignty of this place will not be unchallenged. Others before you and more after will attempt to call this place home, will attempt to build their own kingdom within your borders….”
The image beyond the great crystal arches shifted then, revealing strange forms of two very different peoples living as one. Half appeared to be tiny little men somewhat similar to the Theyir, though they lacked the perfection of form and the arachnid legs. The other, far larger, seemed brutish and ugly to the Theyir. “For some, there could be a place in your society, a path towards integration.”
The view shifted then to reveal a race of anthropomorphic beings that were covered in scales and seemed to be akin to some strange lizard. “Some will seek to return and reclaim a home they forfeited long ago, this must not be allowed.”
“Some will need to be guarded against to protect your lands from their desecration,” here only the image of the vast mountains of Nganek appeared, though ominous fires could be seen advancing down the peak.
“Still others,” and at this a small village of humanoids with flat faces lacking in distinct noses appeared, “will be determined by fate. Integration, annihilation, and other paths remain open for them.”
“These will not be your only challenges and tribulations, nor should they be. Your destiny has been made manifest, a path laid before you which the Theyir’Riyeht shall either tread or perish. Know this, I will guide you always, for I am your father and you my children, in you my power is made manifest, and in me your faith shall be vested. “
“Now go, and begin your task.”
1pp Nourish Nation Sylieum (the Codex)- The Theyir’Riyeht find themselves well suited for life in the valley.
3pp Nourish Nation Sylieum- The Theyir-Riyeht nation experiences a massive population boom.
The Tomb of Itja-Rek
"Oh, it would be my pleasure," the Mother replied teasingly in response to the Itja-Reks stupidity comment. "Having permission to hit you when you are being stupid is almost as much a dream come true as..." The Mother blushed a little, looking downward. My, her humanoid face was certainly open compared to her insectoid one! "This," she finished finally.
Then he went on about her being too small to eat him, and... well, the Mother pouted a little. Which was odd, she hadn't really pouted before.. "I could still eat you a little at a time," she pointed out, playfully leaning over before nibbling on some of the souls on his shoulder. Before pulling away and spitting a little from the unpleasant taste. "I do not think I would enjoy doing so though!" she noted with a small laugh.
It was a good silence indeed... and the Mother couldn't help but want some closeness in it after being too large and unwieldy to have snuggles in her old form. And so she hugged up close to the Itja-Rek, not knowing if he truly felt this way or it was just her new form that made him be so open and want her so... but also not caring. She could second guess everything later, for now... she was just happy to be able to hold him in her arms, the coolness of his souls washing over her body as she pressed up against him.
Sighing, he shook his head. "Honestly, it seems that I only attract rude friends. Itja-Rek, who can't decide if he likes me or wants to yell. The Mother, who likes to ignore what I'm saying. That water guy whose name I can't remember, who insists on getting me wet. Not to mention those two mentalists who rudely kept contacting my mind. I suppose I could seek out Astriluxus or Umbat, but I'd feel rude asking about them, since I can't remember anything about them anyways."
Shaking off the depressive feelings, he shrugged. "Oh well. I've got this lovely place and not nearly enough people to occupy it. I should get to work."
Leaving the elven camp behind, Aaviz walked off into the desert.
-----
Yantra slowly paced towards the cetana homelands, carrying a cetana in one arm and a young elf in the other, shaking his head in amusement. Still, he told himself mentally, he had things to do, and little time to waste. He picked up the pace, doing his best to keep from shaking the youths too much.
-----
Aaviz looked at the large clock of marble he had conjured for this latest project. Carving things from stone was quite enjoyable, despite his past history with it, and knowing that it would be brought to life made it even better. Pulling a set of tools from his hat, he looked at them irritably. So crude and simple. Conjured in haste from his abilities. Not suitable to the task at hand, not suitable at all. It had sufficed for the elves because he had strong memories of many elves, elves of all varieties. Their very formed was ingrained into the fabric of existence across the multiverse, needing only a powerful hand to draw it forth. No, for this one he would not be working with a powerful pre-existing formula and blueprint. He had seen such creatures only on one world, once before, long long ago. Frowning, he stepped back from the marble and reached into his hat again, pulling and tugging with all his might until he pulled out everything needed to do some basic forge work on metal.
And so he began work on a different project first, shaping and working metal, just like old times, to forge a set of tools that would serve and accomplish his purpose.
-----
Yantra left the two children playing beneath the shade of a nearby tree as he entered the large hut where various leaders awaited him. The cetana had, of course, complied with his wishes and spread the knowledge he had taught them, so when he had called for the elders and leaders, they had come, respecting him as a messenger of Aaviz.
Still, as he stood here, staring at the circle of leaders before him, scanning their eyes, he saw fear. He saw disgust. He saw hatred. He saw confusion. He was a messenger from their god, but he was not one of them, he was not like them, and they did not and could not understand. In the end, as he met those stares, he knew it was irrelevant. He had his mission.
For day after day, week after week, he met those elders in that hut, discussing, cajoling, persuading, and intimidating. Working tirelessly to get his mission complete. And in the end, he succeeded, forging the scattered villages into a cohesive group, a nation. Detailing how the elders of each village would choose a representative to meet in a council to speak for them all. Explaining that this council would choose a leader, one who would rule the combined nations with advice from the council that had chose him.
When his mission was finally complete, he took his charges and walked away, leaving them to work out the finer kinks in the system. After all, you couldn't just do everything for them.
-----
Looking at the finished tools arrayed on the clean white cloth before him, Aaviz nodded. They would do. They would do quite well. Turning back to the marble, he lifted his hammer and chisel carefully, approaching the stone as if it were a creature, poised and prepared to strike him. The chisel had an eight sided handle, so as to better provide a grip[ in a sweaty hand.
With the suddenness of a striking snake, he lept forward, attacking the stone with the heavy blunt point, stone chips exploding away. It had begun. Breathing rapidly as he labored, he attacked the great block with all his might.
The clearing rang with the sound of steel on steel and steel on stone, filling the air with it's music as jagged chips and chunks fell away, the fallen and defeated enemy. Clouds of white dust began to hang in the air. As violent as his attack on the stone was, it was controlled and precisely targeted.
Stepping back, he viewed his work. The basic form was the same as the elves, but there were many traits and attributes that were different, some more noticeable then others. Still, he thought as he smiled. The work was only partway done. Laying down the last chisel, he grasped another set of tools and returned to the work.
Stepping into the battle again, he began the finer work, using files and rasps to add much needed detail and definition. In long fluid motions, with fingertips guiding the far end, he slid the steel tool down the stone. Concentrating with all his might on applying steady pressure to cut a precise, fine layer, he was lost in his work.
The file held hundreds of ridges, row upon row of tiny blades of hardened steel, which did the work of cutting away and shaping the marble. Reaching blindly, he carefully placed the file back on the clock, careful not to clang them together, lest he dull them, and grasped another, even finer than the last, taking out the roughness left by the tiny correction accomplished with the one before.
In hours, he had accomplished a feat which would have taken masters months to complete. He was so very very close, yet so very very far from completion. Each careful maneuver and shift removed a paper thin layer of material.
Finally, he set down the last of the tools, finished with them. A single motion with his hand sent them zipping away into his hat for later use. Grasping cloth and pumice, he bent his back to the final task at hand, polishing the stone every so carefully.
It was complete. But this time, he had no spirit god handy from which to draw life for his new creatures. He had not the Mother to help him either. He had only himself and his own abilities to rely on. Gathering hit wits and focusing his tired mind, he cast forth his energy, willing the sculptures to life, demanding that they become living flesh and blood.
For a long moment, he wondered if he was successful. Then, slowly but surely, it began to take effect. Eyes glanced around. Lips curled in a smile. Feet took their first steps. Arms reached out for balance. Feathers ruffled in the wind. Wings snapped out straight, stretching. His vision, a long lost memory of a nearly forgotten world, brought to life once more. The empyreans.
3 PP - Shape Populace - Empyreans
1 PP + 1 PP (exarch) - Guide Nation - Cetana form a new nation (unamed yet)
1/9+0/2
He looked down at the woman lying there for a moment, then impulsively reached down and pulled her head upwards as he tilted his own downwards, meeting in the middle in a kiss... or at least what passed for a kiss, given that lips were not exactly something that Itja-Rek had... in the end it was more like he merely dampened her face with his souls, but... it had been worth it.
"I... have been wanting to do that for a while now." he said quietly as he laid The Mother's head back down.
A long silence fell as the two friends, now reconciled, rested and enjoyed one another's company, hands idly moving back and forth to caress each other. Finally, Itja-Rek spoke once more.
"Mother... I have been thinking about what I said earlier. I do still view myself as something of a scavenger, and the fact that you accept me for who and what I am means a great deal to me. I feel... that I would like to create. I have taken advantage of the mortals, using a fraction of them to replenish myself. You have seen the Repository... and... the Bahenet... I stuffed them full of souls so I could take advantage of their need to discard them.
I wish to do something for the rest of the world. I will always need souls, but my fears that the world will destroy sentient life seem silly now. Plus, I do not need all of them. Perhaps... I could create a place for them to go, a place after life, where... good things can happen. If... when we make Children together... perhaps they could act as... guides to this place...
Does that sound like... a good idea?"
Oh... oh wow, he could really pick her up now couldn't he? She blushed furiously as he did so... oh to feel arms so strongly against her instead of mere pinpricks in her sides! And to be lifted! When she was so much larger than all the other Mothers, she wouldn't think it was possible! It was... a little disorienting, but hardly unpleasant.
The same could be said of his 'kiss'. She knew he had no body to speak of, and treasured it as one might do so of true lips... not that she knew what true lips felt to kiss with. Perhaps that made it easier on her... when one does not know what one is missing, one can do what makes one happy blissfully ignorant of anything beyond that. And she wanted to be blissful, even if she didn't comprehend her ignorance.
This was all so wonderful... the Mother snuggled up against the Itja-Rek, sitting in his lap. Perhaps she should have made her behind smaller, it seemed to be filling his lap quite nicely if perhaps going beyond merely filling and overflowing it slightly... she understood some mortals likes a large behind, and it DID make it more comfortable to sit on his lap, but the Itja-Rek would no doubt find it unlikable...
And then... the Itja-Rek bumbled on about Children. And the Mother could only laugh. "The Itja-Rek, did I not ask to make Children with you in this place so long ago?" she chided him. "Even though you forgot and had other things to deal with, I have not changed my mind on it, and would be happy to make Children with you... even if it is in a more... personal way they originally expected," she noted with a raised eyebrow. "If you wish to make Children, the Itja-Rek, then merely ask flat out instead of beating around the bush like that... I appreciate a direct approach. Besides," she went on, looking down. "I am... curious to see any... advantages this body has for mating and birthing."
What had once been a fertile plain was blackened and scarred. All around the area, hacking, convalescing virago lay, some still with geomancied limbs and appendages, all only barely clinging to life, all piteously whimpering and wasting away.
It was obvious what had happened -- some great scarlet wind had ripped through here, laying waste to all, indiscriminately. These were not warriors, not fighters or combat geomancers of any kind. They were farmers, merchants, and they found their entire caravan crushed, and crippled.
The Orionids and Eroes lurked around the edges of the blasted ground, attempting to build up their resolve. The very air of the area scared them with its darkness -- but there were so very, very, many lives to snuff, souls ready for the taking.
~Bahenet~
The severance ceremony was halfway done when the outsider merchants arrived. The six merchants observed the proceedings with thinly veiled interest, and their arrival was unusual enough that the priest performing the rite felt compelled to speak with them. After finishing the ritual, of course. No need to let these children suffer needlessly.
The priest of this settlement was known as Korrik Vor, and he approached the outlanders warily. "Salutations, strangers. What buisness brings you to the Bahenet?"
The merchants bickered briefly among themselves before electing one of the six to step forward.
"I am lord --er -- T'sar, of the Warped Court of Triskelion. I mean to say, I come here seeking to propogate my lord's interests. I am not a lord myself, clearly."
The merchant shook his head briefly, and continued. "We were tasked with establishing profitable trade routes with you, the Bahenet, our neighbors."
Korrik Vor frowned. "And what can you offer Bahenet?"
Merchant T'sar leaned forwards. "I notice that you were using ceremonial daggers to perform your rite, just now."
Korrik Vor's eyes narrowed. "And?"
The merchant waved his arms to encompass the entire village. "And? And myself and my fellows can't help but find your methods archaic! Your implements are not even made out of Seelium!"
"I'm not sure I follow, merchant."
"Seelium is a rare and recent discovery back in my, our, homeland. It appears a normal silvery color at first, but if you use it to make a sacrificial kill, or use it to perform some other religious rite, the divine power of your god manifests itself, and slowly turns the item scarlet."
T'sar rummaged around in his robes for a minute. "See?" He held up a dull, coppery dagger. "This knife has seen me through only five sacrifices to Syreene, the Feymother of my people." He held up a bright red blade. "But this has been with me for over fourty kills. The more you use it, the sharper and stronger it gets, bolstered with the faith you hold in your god!"
Korrik Vor's eyes widened. "And you'd be willing to trade this wonderful material with us?"
T'sar rolled his eyes. "I'll do more than that, sirrah! I shall give you this first load on credit!"
-1 PP Nourish Population -- The Bahenet discover Seelium, a normally silvery metal that grows redder each time it kills something. This metal pierces not just flesh, but the soul as well. Anything it kills finds its soul transfered to the blade of the metal itself, such that the oldest, reddest, and most deadly of these weapons veritably pulse with the screams of the damned.
-1 PP Guide Population -- The Bahent take to forging religious relics exclusively out of Seelium. Their severance rituals are unaffected by this change, with the exception that souls severed are transfered to the seelium blades, and not to Itja-Rek.
(1 PP Each from Lords of Spring / Lyn of Autumn) Lord Star = merchant T'sar
)"No, I haven't forgotten. I kept looking for a good time to bring it up, but... well, here we are now. I admit, this wasn't what I had in mind either, but I certainly do not mind!"
Itja-Rek looked down at The Mother.
"Hmm... I have an idea that might alleviate our... different conditions. Give me just a moment, would you?"
Itja-Rek gently moved The Mother to the side and stood up, walking to the entrance to the great chamber and then to the Distillery, he reached down and filled up a large bowl with the Draught of Creation and experimentally dabbed it on his body.
Immediately, driven by his will, the part of his body that had been dabbed was covered in warm green skin. It would not last long, he knew, but it should suffice for the task at hand.
Carrying it back to the main chamber, he handed it to The Mother.
"Would you help me cover my body with this? It will make things more pleasant, I feel."
It took a few minutes, Itja-Rek rubbing the Draught across his arms and legs, The Mother massaging it into his back and chest, warm fingers moving deftly across his body. Soon, it was done, and a bald green man stood looking down at The Mother, crushing her against his now-warm chest with a fierce hug.
"Thank you... this feels... right." He whispered. "We should probably hurry... this potion won't last long."
"Now then..." he said, eying The Mother's armor... "How do we get this..." He slid a finger between the armor and her flesh and tugged, and the armor split and fell away. Itja-Rek reached for The Mother...
Dah, de dah de dah de dah de, no-thing to see here. Dah, de dah de dah de dah de, no-thing to see here!
Soon, it was all over, and the two gods lay side-by-side on the stone bed.
"That... that... wow. I... never knew..." Itja-Rek stammered, clearly overwhelmed by the experience. The last of his improvised flesh was vanishing, being replaced by his usual souls as he lay flat on his back, Mother's head resting on his chest as she nuzzled up beside him.
"How... was it for you?"
2 PP (1 from the Distillery): Shape Populace: The Soul Shepherds: Insectoid beings (they look like very large daddy-long-legs... long delicate legs leading up to a drider-like main body) that reside half in the world of the living and half in the spirit world. Final PP to come.
The Itja-Rek... didn't have to do this for her! She loved him the way he was and... oh my, that did look good... and even though he didn't have a body to speak of, they could work out some way they could- oh good Mothers he smelt good like this... BUT she was sure the Itja-Rek would prefer it if- spreading this potion was so fun...
But um... well... what had she been thinking about? By the time the Itja-Rek got her out of her armor, the Mother didn't even wait for the Itja-Rek to reach over for her... she simply pounced onto him, slamming him onto the stone of the tomb in her embrace.
Censored for the Childrens sake
Mmmm, the Itja-Rek sure felt different now that his flesh was leaving him. A little more... wet, and cold. It wasn't... a BAD thing truly. His souls buzzed with a sort of power, and it made her feel all tingly whenever she brushed against him. But it was different, less... warm. Less... mateable would be the word?
Who cared, she was just.... wow. Her entire body shook a little from the pleasure, and she had that characteristic glowing smile of someone who'd just mated. She'd never known what those elves had been smiling so much about after they had 'sex' when she watched them... now she knew!
"It was... mysterious," she teased, leaning over and kissing him where his lips would be if he had them in this form. "And by mysterious, I mean there is no way I could possibly vocalize how pleasurable it was... by my Children, I thought melding with the Sonnet was pleasurable, but when you get bodies involved it is simply... transcendent of merely that."
The Mother didn't really realize any inappropriateness at comparing the Itja-Rek to the Sonnet, or even mentioning them... it had just been a combining of power to make their Children, right? There was no shame in enjoying it.
Smiling a little, the Mothers hand strayed down to her stomach, rubbing it gently. She could already feel the power within it, waiting to be born... theirs would be an interesting race of Children indeed. She... did not look forward to the final birthing of them however. It had seemed quite painful to the elves! Perhaps she would find another way to lay the eggs when they were ready... maybe she could spit them out of her mouth instead of pushing them through her reproductive organs? No matter, it was a problem for another time... however she birthed them, she was sure they would be as wonderful and beautiful as their father.
1PP - Contribute PP to the Soul Shepherds.
1PP - Nourish Soul Shepherds... even though they haven't been born yet... its an unusually large birth, okay?
Despair grew tired of waiting for Schi'vya and Astriluxus's deliberations. He pulled the Reaper closer to himself, allowing tendrils of his fog to play against her skin. When the two gods didn't catch the hint that he wished them to leave, he took action instead. "If you will excuse us, there are other matters to attend to."
The dark of this other place wrapped around the divine beings and they were gone, separating them from the two unholy exarchs. Alone at last, Despair let the Reaper inhale his haze. This wasn't the bliss of divinity that her master provided. This was entirely 'natural.' He could feel her pulse quicken as whatever was left of her mortal form reacted to the surges of adrenaline being released. This was the wild, heady, bloody lust of soldiers caught up into the insanity of battle.
"My dear, I know I do not compare to the beauty your master can provide. But if someday I can, perhaps you will choose to forgo your allegiance to him?"
~Triskelion Continent~
"Down, step, thrust. Forward, halt, strike."
The master-at-arms called out the forms step by step and the younglings followed best they could. Occasionally he would stop and demonstrate again the required forms, correcting the flaws that wormed their way into the drill. Day and night the group drilled, calling upon the essence of their nature, until their master felt they were skilled enough to face each other in sparing matches. With wooden blanks they trained again and again, breaking bone, healing, scaring, growing stronger and swifter with every weapon their master could imagine. The wilderness that the Drahken wandered through was dangerous, they needed to protect themselves.
When their master was full satisfied, he sent the best of his students out to the various wandering tribes. There they gathered the young, every boy and girl old enough to stand still for ten minutes. And they trained the younglings, for months, and years, sending their best ever onwards to train others, and leaving the rest to return to ordinary life. Within two generations there was not a cobbler or baker who could not handle a blade or club as a skilled warrior. And the warriors of the Drahken were in turn more skilled than those of other people. The Dragon Corps became known as the best, the deadliest fighters.
1PP from Despair + 1PP Guide Organization: The Drahken form the Dragon Corps, a group of skilled warriors who, for now, attempt to make the areas where the Drahken wander safer places to be.
1PP + 1 Genesis remaining
Reset and start of a new turn.
All have 6/9 save:
Inimicus,Arknai:5
~Triskelion: Soulshard Nation~
Schi'vya tapped her foot on the ground and held her sword just above her head. "Hmm... I wonder what Allos does..."
She was suddenly caught off guard by a strange noise from behind. All four of the guardians started to combine their powers into a single point. "What are you doing?"
Draekan closed his eyes and the others did so as well. It was clear that they had something on their mind. Schi'vya linked with theirs and saw their idea expand in her mind. 'Well, that is very original, you two.' She chuckled and gave them inspiration towards this project. It was actually a fusion of two projects, but they both had a similar premisis-- the Unity of the Elements.
The elemental powers rose up and surrounded the group of five divine beings. The elemental creatures only stood by. Suddenly they started to move around and bump into each other-- some creating new creatures-- new forms created from the basics.
Then a shard of light rose up into the sky above the Nation-- high up int the clouds that raged above. The shard of light started to epand and coalese into four different forms. The shards of light underwent a radical transformation; they all formed into long, serpentlike forms, each made out of one of the four different elements. They grew wings that were molded from their element. Their first breath into existence was a monotonous roar that echoed throughout the world-- that shook the ground where Schi'vya and Astriluxus stood. "The Elemental Dragons. The spawns of the guardians are the seeds to the elements themselves. One of Air, one of Earth, one of Fire, and one of Water. They are the Unity of the Elements." She watched as all four serepntine creatures flew up in the sky in a close pattern, and then dove right to the ground, and stopped just before hitting the ground.
The four beasts glanced at Schi'vya, then at Astriluxus. They seemed quite preoccupied with something, but the beasts spoke in unisn towards the two deities. "What is your bidding, my master?"
Schi'vya smirked with glee. "Your task is simple-- keep the elements safe, and oppose anyone who wish to do harm to us."
"It shall be done." The serpents flew off in different directions across the world and towards the different parts of what used to be the Waltzing Mountains.
3PP (1PP from guardians)- Spawn Greater Beast (Unity of the Elements): The elementals start to bump into each other-- some creating creatures from the combination of two or more elementals-- sme a combination of other combinations.
Genesis: 0
Combat: 1
Arbitration: ---
Total: 1/11
Mud oozed from the strike zone, bubbling up from untold miles below. From this a psuedopod reached up and dragged a blob of clay onto the surface. It could sense the other that had called to it, innately, but it could not feel him, since Agrilnost was in the sky above.
"I give you life," the master of winds called out to the clay. "In return you will serve me and the earth will be yours to tend. Is this acceptable?"
Words bubbled to the surface of the clay blob, as in a tar pit. "L...ife?"
"Yes," Agrilnost said. "Life. The earth was asleep until I called you to life, to wakefullness. I am Agrilnost, lord of the air. What is your name, and will you choose to serve or will you die?"
The clay thought for a moment. It did not wish to respond so hastily to this air, particularly in his current state. Sensing stone beneath him, the god pulled up rocks and minerals and used it to form a hard shell around himself, with eight sturdy appendages, six of which supported his weight and the other two for manipulating his environment. Tiny crystalline hairs grew on the front of this new form, to sense delicate vibrations in the air, allowing him to 'see' and the stones of his body allowing him to manipulate air so as to speak.
"Name?" he asked more coherently. "I am... Aramorg."
"A fine name," Agrilnost responded curtly. His patience was growing thin but he did not yet wish to offend one that he hoped would serve. "And will you tend the earth and obey?"
"This seems agreeable for now. I will."
"Excellent. Then I shall leave you to the earth. Come, when I call."
3PP +1PP (from Agrilnost) - Ascend Exarch: Aramorg, lord of the earth. Genesis exarch.
4PP +1 Genesis +1 Arbitration remaining
"Quite a nice day we're having," said the woman politely, there she was, perched right on the stern of the boat
Marv couldn't help but gape. she was no looker, that was for damn sure, weren't the seaward mirages supposed to be beautiful women luring you to your doom? She certainly was not going to be doing any luring any time soon. Her face was wide and doughy and her wide, slack mouth was curled into an infuriatingly knowing smile. Her hair was piled high atop her head and afixed with all manner of combs and clips. As for her getup, well that was yet another story. Her plump body seemed to be stuffed into some great big orange and black affair with great spots of white. She looked like some sort of fat fairy queen.
"You know, it's rude to stare," pointed out the woman, and Marv realized just how high-pitched and girlish it sounded, quite irritating for a guy like him, "Oh, aren't you going to say something?"
And then he spotted what she was holding. It was a large, glisteningly wet bird, and she was petting him, ropes of what appeared to be saliva sticking to her hand as she did so. She did not appear to notice, or if she did, she didn't care as she made no effort to clean her hand or the spot where the thing was dampening her fancy dress.
"Thas' an albertraws," said Marv thickly after a few moments.
"Very good," said the woman simperingly, "What's your name sir?"
"M-marv," said the sailor slowly.
"Well, Muhmarv, as you can see, it's about it get very rainy, you'd best be getting into that there cabin of yours," said the woman sweetly, and though he took a look behind the woman, Marv saw no hint of a storm cloud. He kept his mouth shut though as the woman looked at her wrist, though there was nothing there, "Any moments now Marv." She smiled, "Take cover."
The woman pulled a parasol seemingly out of nowhere and swept it above her head and the next thing Marv knew, he was being pelted with raindrops the size of cannonballs. The sky had suddenly darkened as clouds came from nowhere to block the light of Sol and Marv ran to seek refuge in his cabin. Reaching the door, he turned to help the woman inside too. She was gone. Marv swore as only a sailor can and spun around, slamming the cabin door behind him. But had he waited just a second longer, he would have seen something that would have shaken him to his very core.
For there, hovering through the raining sky, was a Monarch Butterfly, gently making it's way away from the approaching hurricane.
Itja-Rek ran his hand up The Mother's hip and rested it on her stomach, feeling the pulsing energy within that was growing by the second. It wouldn't be long now...
He reached up and brushed a strand of hair from the goddesses' face, fingers tracing gently across her cheekbone as he tucked it behind her ear.
"I don't want to get up and dispel this wonderful moment, but if we are going to have Children, then we should probably prepare their nursery and home, don't you think?"
Gently, he got up and made his way to the far side of the room, ducking out of the chamber for a moment. He snapped his fingers and Spark appeared, blue light blinking furiously in shock. Itja-Rek placed his hand over the eye and drew out a modicum of power before sending the confused exarch back to watch over Umbart.
Holding the coherent ball of energy with one hand, Itja-Rek also went to the Distillery and drew out another measure of Draught. The Soul-distilled liquid seemed to come out a little slower than usual, so he opened up the side door. It was... lower than usual. Perhaps the Reaper hadn't been here in a while. Well, something to deal with later.
He returned to The Mother, handing her the flask of liquid.
"Here, drink this. It will make our children strong." he said as he lifted the blue light, now in the shape of a 8-sided crystal. He placed a hand against one of the facets and focused his power into it. More and more power flowed in and the crystal grew brighter blue light streaming from between his fingers. The gods closed their eyes as the light grew unbearably bright.
Then, it was gone. Itja-Rek staggered forward as the power within his hands disappeared, going... somewhere else.
~The Endless River~
Floating in the void the crystal reappeared, grown a thousandfold. Within, a river unfolded, surrounded by lush fields of green grasses. Onward the water flowed, turning from a babbling brook to a stream to a mighty river as it went. As the river grew in size, so too did the size of the vegetation, transforming from small saplings to trees many hands in diameter, their roots dipping into the river's edge. Eventually, a dim roar could be heard that grew louder and louder until the entire river plunged over a cliff. The water fell for what seemed like an eternity, turning into a fine mist as it went until it reached the land far below, racing down the slopes in small rivulets that eventually formed the same brook it had originally come from. Onward and onward the river flowed, looping in upon itself. Soon, this place would teem with souls, but for now the only sounds were of the water flowing.
~Gathering~
The reaper looked up into the face of the exarch.
"Perhaps I will, Dearest. Perhaps I will."
~Ker Aash~
"Forgive this One... this one spoke hastily. Your words made it seem to this one that you were like The City, but you are not... you are like the Trilobita, are you not?"
Barely pausing, and clearly not expecting a response to his earlier question, the Bryofite continued speaking:
"But enough. The City desires to speak to the leaders of this place, The City wishes to consult about the strange malaise that seeps through the waters of this world..."
4 PP (1 from Spark): Create Plane (greater): The Endless River: An Escher-inspired plane that will be the resting place of the dead.
1 PP (from distillery): Nourish Populace: Soul Shepherds are made stronger... and they're still not even born!
5/9 PP + 1/3 (arbitration)
The lord of the earth plodded away from the site of his birth. Along barren lands he walked, until he came to the ocean. He put a pseudopod into the water, which threatened to dissolve his earth if it hadn't been for the stone that kept it solid. Down and down he went, until deep underwater he felt the presence of earth far off. He pushed off the ground and flew through the water to a mountain brimming with energy. There was heat unlike any he had imagined, hot enough to turn stone to liquid, though unlike the water this was more pleasant to swim in.
Extending his senses, Aramorg found that there were other hot mountains like this scattered in what seemed to be a circle. Strange, a few of them even were spewing forth this molten rock.
The Kaiser of Stone delved into the heat and allowed it to warm his body. It was pleasant, and it extended his senses. He could feel another heat source flying through the sky, and pinprick sparks traveling about on the land, but like the earth, this heat seemed to be largely ignored.
Growing wings like a manta ray, Aramorg swam through the liquid earth, and phased from mountain to mountain, calling upon the power of earth. Heat needed one to tend, but unlike him it would be free, as such beings should. Across the world the volcanoes around the veil exploded, sending sparks and ash high into the sky. Where these sparks came together a being was formed, a green flame that fell into the oceans of Korias. As the heat stuck the water it was greeted with a great khaaaa-deeesshhhhhhh and bouts of steam.
The flame hated the water, hated the coolness of it, and with speed it flew away, high into the sky, where it crashed into the godspire. Cold, the flame called upon its powers and felt a tug from a heat in the sky. Drawing upong this, the fire turned a band of earth around this mountain into lava, which ever flowed upon itself. There the fire soaked, unaware that the one who had created it was coming.
4PP - Ascend Exarch: Khadesh, with the combat key word.
1PP (from Sol) - River of Fire
0PP left, 1 arbitration
Another Soulshard village lay vanquished and burning. The air was filled with the unadulterated cries of the mortally wounded, those slowly bleeding out, and those left out to die from infections and gangrene. They were forced to watch as their homes burned lazily, the thatched roofs and furnishings sending lovely plumes of smoke into the sky.
The elementals (those that had yet to discorporate into true death) had it worse. A trio of fire elementals, bound by their waste, and chained with some blue-wrought magic could do not but wail in fear as their body heat slowly melted the rope above their heads -- a rope that was preventing a torrent of brackish water, originally to put out the fires, from tipping, to quench the life from their bodies forever.
Elsewhere, a tattered air element longed to cry out in pain -- it's dismembered limbs residing deep within the lungs of some of the wounded Virago. It could not reform its essence, and those it lay within were slowly choking on its sentient heavier-than-air self.
Near the middle of town, what appeared to be a guard captain lay impaled on a fine red sword, choking and coughing out blood intermittently.
It was shambles.
The Tomb of Itja-Rek
Mmm, this was so nice... just lieing here, the Itja-Rek by her side. It was... bliss. Though she couldn't help but feel a little... strange. Was it just her, or were her breasts getting even bigger?? And her stomach was bulging out a tiny bit... and why was she suddenly craving strawberries??
Oh, he was leaving? The Mother couldn't help but pout at the Itja-Reks back as he left, sitting up and leaning against the wall. Well, it gave her some time to herself... though what would she do with it? Aside from wanting strawberries, she was... rather content with things as they were at the moment. Though she was also craving another coupling like they had had before... ooo, was this what elves felt when they were with child? Usually her moods didn't begin swinging until AFTER she'd given birth!
Sighing, the Mother, still naked, got to her feet in the dark, empty, stone tomb. Hm... she wondered how the outside world was doing? Walking to one of the walls, the Mother laid her hand against it, the stone melting away for a moment to open into the sky level with and the sea beneath the tomb... mmm, she'd never felt the wind on so much of her before, always being covered in a carapace! It felt so... good! And the smells... and how the wind tossed her... what was it called? 'Hair?' It was all so...
Hm... so much water, yet none of her Children lived in it. How sad... well, just because she was pregnant with the Itja-Reks children, didn't mean she couldn't have her own while she waited for them to be ready! Hacking and coughing, the Mother spat up an egg... an act which had been gross in her old form, shockingly disgusting in her new, otherwise beautiful one. The egg fell down, falling through the sky, falling and falling until it crashed into the ocean below.
Once there, it hatched... into something resembling a giant shrimp. Bright red was its carapace, and despite its more or less shrimp like body it possessed claws rather like a lobster, though far more lean than thick and designed for crushing. Its antennae bizarrely came out from its upper 'lip', creating a sort of dignified mustache of sensory organs. It was wise, it was deep, and these Sealords would surely real the water.
Satisfied, the Mother puked out some Broodlings for the new lords before closing the wall back up. Hm... this place could use a little livening up. Blowing on her hands, flowers began to take root in the dark stone of the tomb... blue, glowing flowers that lit the otherwise harsh stone of the place. There, much better... well, the Itja-Rek should have expected a bit of a womans touch to his tomb upon entering a relationship!
Upon the Itja-Reks return, the Mother smiled warmly, putting a single hand on her still larger stomach... she didn't want to wait nine months to give these Children life, after all! Walking over to the Itja-Rek, the Mother leaned in to give him a kiss... before he pressed this thing into her hands? It didn't... smell very nice... she was kind of hoping he'd gone out to get her strawberries.
Shrugging, the Mother decided that if the Itja-Rek wanted her to drink it, he had good cause, and so put it to her lips and drank deeply... before her eyes widened and she spluttered and coughed, doubling over at the bad taste. "The Itja-Rek, I hope that was medicine and not intended to be drank for pleasure!" the Mother noted with a grimace at the taste. "I trust you that it will make our Children strong, but... its taste is rather horrible! Ah well," she noted, leaning in and giving him that kiss. "Thank goodness the Itja-Rek is here to get that bad taste out of my mouth."
Hm, was it just her, or did he look a little... weak? "The Itja-Rek, is something wrong?" the Mother asked, concerned.
1PP - Nourish Populace - A new genus of Broodlords, Sealords, appear.
1PP - Nourish Populace - The Searlords grow in number, and gain Broodlings.
1PP - Nourish Land - The Mother creates a form of flower that glows and grows in ancient, dark places. It takes root in the Tomb of Itja-Rek, though spreads to other places.
"I..." Itja-Rek shook his head. "I... don't quite know. I guess you just completely wore me out!" he said, flashing a smile at the other god. "The way you... well, you know... it was something else."
He was silent for a few moments, then continued.
"I'm not sure. Something just feels... different."
~Triskelion~
Just then, wafting over the hills came the smell of burning wood. The Reaper looked up, shocked, and saw smoke on the horizon.
"Come on!" she cried to Despair. "I'm sure we'll find something interestign there."
The Tomb
The Mother couldn't help but blush furiously at the Itja-Reks compliment... mmm, well she had tried to please him. She'd never expected he'd share so many erogenous zones with the elves! Except his ears, he didn't seem to like her playing with them for some reason... it drove the elves absolutely wild. Not to say he hadn't given her a bit of pleasing of his own...
Different? Different was... well, everything was perfect at this moment, right? So different was... bad. Waddling over to the Itja-Rek, her stomach protruding far enough in front of her now she had to steady herself with one hand so that the combination of breasts and stomach didn't make her topple over, the Mother hugged him tightly, pressing her body up against him.
"The Itja-Rek, don't you know its poor form to worry your pregnant mate?" the Mother chided him... before going on a little more sadly. "Is it... a bad different? Of course it is, if it makes you tired... maybe... the Itja-Rek should go work out what it is..."
After the inception of the nation, over the next several years, Sylieum and the Theyir’ Riyeht began to grow and take shape. The daily life of the Theyir was of course not so different from that of other peoples. The chosen people awoke, they worked, they ate and slept and danced and laughed and cried just like any other mortals. Farms were planted in order to feed the newborn, houses were built (though many were constructed on platforms around or between the Crystal Spires) for the growing population, places of worship were erected, families moved and settled down and commerce buzzed. However, there were some key features of their society that developed in this period.
First, the Aarmorand, the Church of Absalom was established. Of course, the Theyir’ Riyeht did not actually know the name of their God, so instead he was worshipped by various titles such as the Divine Muse, the Golden Father, the Dream Speaker (the God had continued to prefer communion with his people through dreams). Outsiders would find a temple of the Aarmorand odd from the very outset, before they even stepped in the door. No two temples were alike, and they all stood out quite ****ly from their surroundings. From the construction of the very first, the houses of worship for the Golden Father were only built by architects that seemed possessed by some burning muse, some violent vision that demanded existence. It was said that a skilled architect, when the time came, would be violently possessed by the spirit of a temple not yet built, and he could complete no other project until this was finished. Some of the temples rose high, possessing warped walls that seemed to flow like liquid magma before rising high to bloom into tiled organic shapes. Others were little larger than a house, but with strangely inverted minarets and subtle geometries that, while maximizing interior space, seemed to accentuate the gentle melodies of the Crystal cities.
Once inside a Temple, outsiders accustomed to other religious traditions would once again be taken aback. The grey solemn places of worship that so many other Gods desired were not present here, instead the God of Beauties churches acted as part tavern, part art gallery, and part theater, and part public forum. Every evening, after toiling away for the day, dozens to hundreds of Theyir’Riyeht would come to the Aarmorand temples where they would sit and discuss the ideas and artistry of the newest paintings and sculptures being shown. Others would drink to their fill and dance gaily whilst bards played tunes and competed with each other for the favor of the crowd. On some nights the entire temple would be devoted over to the performance of some play or opera, whilst on others no entertainment was provided and instead the Theyir discussed everything from politics to philosophy to economics and more as a group. All of this of course, was overseen by the clerics, for they actively sought to cultivate life abundantly among the Sylieum’s, believing it to be the highest form of worship to their God.
The second peculiar institution to arise at this time was the Ryenthar. The Ryenthar was a kind of bureaucracy that arose in response to a specific element of Sylieum society. From very early on in the existence of the nation, it was apparent that every Theyir’Riyeht had a specific calling, a specific vocation. The vocation and the Theyir would take to each other like fish and water, and the Theyir would devote the rest of their days to their craft. The Ryenthar arose in order to help individual Theyir discover that vocation. They sought to observe and record the skills, abilities, personalities, and behavior of almost every Sylieum citizen from as early as possible, so that they might guide them towards crafts that matched their ability with the public need. In order to meet these goals, the Ryenthar hosted schools for the young wherein they could educate the populace and simultaneously weed out the jewels of excellence from the chaff of mediocrity. They built poor houses so as to reintegrate and simultaneously control any Theyir who became despondent, hospitals to guide the sick back to health but to also note possible diseases that ran in families, they purchased food from the farmers in the countryside and sold it in the city at cost in order to ingratiate themselves with the populace and so that they could better control the masses. The Ryenthar’s clutches permeated Sylieum society and every Theyir’Riyeht were accustomed since childbirth with the bureaucracy’s intimate knowledge and involvement with their own lives, so much so that sometimes, the Ryenthar would find a suitable match among young Theyir and they would be wed without question. Most of the time the Ryenthar operated through guidance and gentle nudges, however it was not unheard of for them to issue commands and edicts, and those that disobeyed an edict from the Ryenthar did so at great risk to themselves.
Finally, the last major institution to arise during this period of Sylieum history was the Praetorian, a small standing army of trained elite soldiers. From its inception, Sylieum knew that violence would be inevitable given their manifest destiny. At some point, they would be opposed, and at some point bloodshed would be called for. Knowing this, a professional army was formed that, while small, could defend the Theyir’ Riyeht against rapid attacks and in time of war could lead a broader volunteer army of Theyir. Notably, a specific style of battle and class of fighter arose among the ranks of the Praetorian, the Kar’Sha or Battle Singers. They were warriors who sang as they went into battle, their voices driving their comrades to ever greater heights and prowess. Something about the songs they sang seemed to alter reality, for allies would find that their attacks found their targets more often, that they did more damage, that they became more nimble, or even that their wounds began to heal themselves when within earshot of a battle song. Rarely, elite groups of the Kar’sha operated together as a War Choir, their songs intermingling and enhancing each other while they dived into battle with spear and sword. However, the Praetorian was devoted to more than just the actual combat of war, but all the arts involved with it as well. They funded and trained some of the best Crystal Forgers in the nation, they taught many of the architects, their forces provided raw manpower for some larger building projects, and their officers were often drawn from some of the most able candidates of the Ryenthar’s schools. And it was the Praetorian that acted as guards and policemen, enforcing law and order in the streets of the city.
Together, these three institutions came to define and rule the early nation of Sylieum. The Ryenthar was the most powerful, for they collected the taxes and distributed them to the Aarmorand and the Praetorian, but they could not function without the support of the other two. In fact, the nation was ruled by a council consisting of three representatives from each institution, this council made decisions and passed laws affecting the entirety of Sylieum via simple majority. In times of trial, the council would often nominate one or two Theyir to act as Consul for a set period of time, the power of the nation embodied in a single dictator until the crisis had passed.
2pp Guide: Form Organization Aarmorand- the Church of Absalom is created in Sylieum
2pp Guide: Form Organization Ryenthar-
2pp Guide: Form Organization Praetorian- the Sylieum standing army.
2pp (from last week) Teach Class Kar’sha (Battle Singers)- This is an entire new PC class, a hybrid between a fighter and a bard. Kar’ Sha have medium armor proficiency along with all simple and martial weapon proficiencies, no shield proficiency however. The thesis of the class is warriors who sing in battle, how this would effectively function is at first level the PC learns three songs, 1 that boosts all allies attack bonus within 60 feet of him, 1 that boosts all allies damage within 60 ft, 1 that boosts all allies AC within 60 ft. A standard action would be required to initiate the song, and once initiated a perform check would be needed, with staggered effects. A roll less than 10 causes the song to fail, a roll of 10-25 causes all allies to gain +1 to Attack, Damage, Ac, whatever, at 25+ the singers Charisma bonus is added to allies Attack, Damage, Ac, etc. 40+ two times the singers charisma modifier. Once initiated, the song is a free action to maintain and lasts a number of rounds equal to ½ class level plus charisma modifier. If there are multiple battle singers present (nominally in a War Choir) then multiple songs can be active, however the same song cannot stack (one could be giving the party +1 Attack another +1 AC, if both were singing an attack song though the effects would not stack). As the PC levels new songs are acquired such as inspiring fear in foes, giving allies the regenerate quality, causing all allied weapons in the vicinity to have the flaming quality for a short time, and others. At this point, this is just a rough idea, and I would love to work this out for the wiki with some people in chat.
But as the originator of such chaos was not a god, she did not hear it. Nor was it likely she would care if she had.
The Naga had learned quite some time ago that cremation was not desirous for their dead. Those who tried it had unfortunate "accidents" fall upon their grieving loved ones. They made due with burial or (in some cases) cannibalism instead.
And yet, an intriguing new idea was starting to spread among the Naga, one that was not cremation, and so was not frowned upon. Especially to the grafters, to whom the option seemed so obvious, gleeful as they were already to work with the bodies of their fellows.
It started as a single community -- instead of burying their dead, they bound the spirit of the ancestor to a ritualized item of power, a totem, fetish, or phylactery that kept the soul loyal to the mortal, still-living beings: it was bound lichdom, and it was good.
-1 PP Guide Populace (from Malice): The Naga move from burying their dead to crafting bound liches from them, allowing their soul to remain among loved ones, and serve the family dynasty indefinitely.
As the deity of the wind shrieked to high heavens from within the desolation of the elemental settlement, a voice came calling from not far behind her “Well I seem to have stumbled into a rather poignant scene in another's drama...”
The voice was firm and authoritative, not overly aggressive nor passive, but carrying a neutral tone that seemed to state the speaker would take no argument about any such thing. When Shi’vya turned she was greeted with the sight of a Golden figure walking forth upon four arachnid legs that sprouted from his back. The being had high cheekbones, gaunt and regal features, and black orbs as darker than the emptiness beyond this world. He wore a gently flowing robe of white, lacking sleeves, which hung loosely about his form. As he approached closer, the arachnid legs withdrew into his body and he proceeded the last few feet on his humanoid limbs.
“The tragedy, the horror, the devastation, all are familiar but all are welcome. After all, archetypes exist because they appeal to the nature of the world, however one could ask for a bit more compelling performance from the lead," the being seemed to be referring to Shi'vya with this remark. "Her acting needs work, a touch of loss and despair at the events before her would help immensely," as he said this something about how the being spoke implied that he was cataloging the Goddesses flaws. “Though I will give credit where credit is do, the perpetrator of this scene had a rather developed sadistic ascetic, judging by the limbs in entrails...” mentioned the being while indicating the air elemental with its limbs firmly lodged in a Virago’s chest.
****
This was bad, very, very bad! Mepheran was hanging in a tree, suspended by his extended hind legs as they clung to the branches. Wrapped tightly in a blended mesh of leather and dawnweave, dyed a dark brown than sowing in several patches of fresh leaves to help blend the fabric with the surrounding treetops, the middle aged Theyir’Riyeht was barely visible. From head to toe he was covered in the fabric, about his arms and legs small metal bands of dull grey encircled his limbs tightly in order to hold the clothing tight so as to prevent it catching on anything.
Mepheran was a member of the Praetorian, he had been for nearly fifteen years now. Before that, he had been a farmer on the edge of the wilderness, and the Ryenthar had noted an affinity for hunting and tracking early in the boy’s life. He was far from the any real town, and as such there were only one or two Ryenthar representatives that ever came to his lodging, and it was not until the Theyir was well into his 40’s before he was recommended to the military. He was not one of the celebrated Kar’Sha, but he was very useful to the organization. He kept tabs on developing threats in the forest, patrolled oft untread lands in order to keep dangerous beasts away from his fellow people, and spied on the other inhabitants of this land when ordered to. It was satisfying work, it allowed him much solitude and time to contemplate whilst in communion with the holy valley, and through the valley with the Divine Muse.
Six days before, a small child had disappeared in the forest whilst out gallivanting. The boy had been promising and always attentive, and it was not in his manner to leave home for long days at a time, as such the parents contacted the Ryenthar, and the Ryenthar contacted Mepheran. He had arrived two days later, and started searching. It did not take long, unusual tracks stood out like a bright splash of red against the dull forest floor, and of course there was the dried path of blood…. The boy had been killed, by a beast, but not just any beast. He had been slain by one of the dreaded destroyers, the many headed hydras that would emerge to devour and wreak havoc in the forests for a time before retreating to their lairs.
Mepheran had followed the trail and found the beast devouring the flesh of several quill hounds all at once before an arched cave that must have been its lair. Judging by the few scattered bones, Mepheran ascertained that the rampage had just begun, the Hydra having just emerged. This was not good news, this meant that many more lives were in danger, and this meant that the lone scout needed help. Sending word back to the nearest Praetorian outpost, reinforces arrived yesterday, a full half dozen experienced Kar’Sha, a Battle Choir…
This morning, they had set out for the beast’s lair, Mepheran leading by some distance, silently stalking through the tree branches, whilst the Battle Choir trailed some distance behind. As they approached though, Mepheran caught sight of something unexpected, a complication to the already delicate situation. A group of beings, seemingly of mixed race, were slowly walking through the forest. Predominantly, they were the Fla’Nora, the flat faced beings that the forefathers had seen in the divine vision long ago, at the founding of Sylieum. They had a small settlement far away on the other side of the valley, and Mepheran had stalked there kind once or twice in the past when they neared Theyir’Riyeht lands.
However, leading the group, there was a strange being unlike the Fla’Nora, one that Mepheran had never before seen. She appeared to have the same anatomical structure of the Fla’Nora and the Theyir’Riyeht (minus their hind legs that is). However, her features were not flat, instead they were distinctly well rounded and symmetrical, and had some air of mischievous arcane about them. She was by far the least ugly outsider Mepheran had ever seen, and she was appeared to be leading the group through the forest. It was obvious by the way she walked that she had some experience navigating forest paths, but apparently not within the woods of Sylieum, for she missed the telltale warning signs that an experienced tracker might have caught warning of the hydra, whose lair they seemed to be unknowingly stumbling into.
As the strangers inched closer and closer, Mepheran drifted behind, keeping them at the edge of his vision. He prayed to the Golden Father that they would not stumble into their own destruction. However, that hope was shattered when a terrible inhuman roar emerging simultaneously from a dozens of bestial throats pierced the silence of the morning. The hydra came storming through the forest, its mighty limbs uprooting trees trunk and all as its bulk tore through the canopy. The strangers were running, but already one was being devoured, and the others were not fast enough.
Launching into a blind flurry of motion, Mepheran let out a terrible howl as he scurried from limb to limb across the forest canopy towards the violence. The howl was a signal to the Battle Choir, and he knew they would not be far behind as he rushed forward and drew his bow. Unleashing several arrows in rapid succession whilst he narrowed the distance, the scout began to hear the awe inspiring harmonies of the Angelic choir behind him, though he was not quite close enough for the strange power of their words to penetrate his soul.
Still, he came closer and closer, until he was almost directly atop the carnage. Drawing forth his short blade, crafted by a master from the holy material of the crystal spire, it rang in anticipation of the battle to come whilst leaving its sheath. Launching himself forward and drawing back his vulnerable hind legs, Mepheran plunged the sword deep into the flank of the hydra and prayed that his fellows were not far behind!
"I'm sorry... what was it about death and devastation? It appears that someone or something might have come in here and just turned this sprawling forest into a dump. What sort of acting is that? I call this 'martyrdom' rather than an act." Confusion and frustration replaced her anger. "All in the blink of an eye. I did not even see what passed through here. It doesn't make any sense."
Schi'vya lowered her blade-- the winds sheathing the blade and stabbing it into the ground. "I would have reason to believe that you would be the culprit, but then again your brilliant self suggests no sort of malice or contempt. Oh... I don't think we've met before, have we? I am Schi'vya, Lord of the Four... Elements." She stumbled and juggled around the word 'Four Winds,' since it did not apply to her anymore.
The golden figure nodded at the other God’s words, all the while he continued to walk into the carnage and mayhem, seeming to pause over the occasional body in order to inspect it more closely, with the same face a wine connoisseur might make after sipping an interesting brand, though perhaps one with an flavor not quite to his tastes.
“A pleasure to meet you Shi’vya, Lord of Elements,” of course Absalom had met this being before, but she did not know that, and he wished it to remain that way. “And if you wish for this to be martyrdom, then that is your prerogative. Your particular meaning branded upon this truth, and others will brand their own.” Conspicuously absent from the deities response was his own name, however he continued to forge ahead.
“Though if you seek a culprit, you should probably being by seeking out enemies and those that might have something to gain from such an event. Even the most bloodthirsty kills for a reason, there is no such thing a ‘random’ in this universe.”
Remeny~
The Drahken, upon arriving in the city was first treated with suspision and a little mistrust. Upon hearing their story though, the wanderers were treated as long lost breatheren. Given a place of safety and a new way of life, many were taught the ways of the protector. Hearing that there was many more still out there, Drahken and Dragonborn alike form mixed parties to look for their people. Many dragonborn leave to create new settlements, and attempt to spread the word of their lord.
Inside the main city, alchemy has been born. Larger ships have been constructed, and a new military force appears out of the ranks of the dragonborn military: The Dragoons. An elite heavy anti-infantry unit with the express purposes of taking out large and small groups of infantry quickly.
1PP Nourish Population Some of the Drakhen join with the dragonborn
1PP Teach Remeny learns alchemy an art of using normal materials to perform magical feats
2PP(I think) Guide The dragoons are form. An elite paramilitary unit designed with heavy anti-infantry purpose.
1PP Nourish Population Dragonborn grow and spread out, spreading the word of The guardian with them
1PP Nourish Population Remeny continues to flourish with its seabound catches and trades.
I'm not sure, but that might leave me with 3 left over, if not then I should be empty till reset.
Absalom slowly tilted his head to the side and up slightly to take in the massive form of Astriluxus, seeming to take real note of him for the first time. “I apologize; you were so large and so static that I mistook you for a rather garish piece of scenery. I honestly had no idea that you were an animate thing, much less that you were a deity.”
As the surrounding scattered remnants of bodies suddenly re-forged themselves in the flames of the dragon, the Golden God seemed to look about the scene with the same measured gaze, as if this somehow did not change the equation.
When the elemental-dragons however were altered and diminished, he stepped forward, his motions taking on a more violent cast. “Who do you think you are to fundamentally alter the work of another Deity?! The insolence, the conceit, the pigheadedness to diminish and dilute another’s creations without so much as asking! Do you have sole custody of all large reptilians? Are dragons of every shape and size your intellectual property? This Shi’vya had fair use to create her own brand of beasts, and you just smothered that creative impulse!”
To refute your claims on intellectual properties, no they aren't my intellectual property. They are my physical property. Lest you forget they are made in my image.
Now, we were in the process of investigating a disturbance near her astral portal when we were interrupted. If you would like you could join us in figuring out what it is. An extra pair of eyes are always welcome.
Oh, in the future, can we find out the facts before we start throwing accusations around?"
The exarch turned to the golden god. "Speaking of which, I do not believe we have met. I am the slave of Harkon Armal and I am your humble servant."
Despair bowed to him and asked, "Might I know the name of the god I address?"
"I appreciate your directness," Khelo Noa said to the bryofite ambassador. "As I said, the people are led by the people, so let us talk with this Sea-Tea. The foul water is indeed a concern. Will you bring her here, or shall we go to him?"
~Godspire Mt, River of Fire~
As Khadesh basked in the warms of the lava, Aramorg trudged to her. "Fire?" he asked, calling out across the magma flow.
Khadesh was taken back by the sound of the other demigod; she had been unaware that there were others in this world, and others so different. The word 'fire' sounded nice, like it belonged to her, so Khadesh answered. "Hello?"
"Ah, fire, you are awake. I am Aramorg, tender of earth and stone. I created you to tend fire and he-"
The two were caught unprepared by a violent storm that descended upon them. "What," the thunderous voice of Agrilnost asked, "is this? What have you done, Aramorg?"
"You created me to tend to the earth, but the heat of the world was unloved as well, so I created her. She is... I am sorry, I haven't caught your name yet."
The fire thought about it for a moment before answering. "When I was born the waters greeted me as Khadesh."
"I commanded you to tend the earth, not create others. There is no room for this... abomination!" the storm-god cried. From his clouds three dragon-like heads darted out, each wraping itself around the fire before biting it. The heat burned the god-flesh, but Agrilnost held on and tried to rend the essence from the creature.
"Why?" the fire asked before it slipped into the magma and fled the storm.
~Soulshard Nation, Another Divine Gathering~
Even as Despair waited for the golden god to respond, his essence began to mix with the mortals that were meandering the area. Their souls had already been placed in the Reaper's basket, as the two had been strolling through the area for some time. Thus, when the dragon god had undone the carnage, there were no free souls to place in the bodies, creating mere atomatons. These empty shells were eager to be filled, and the power of Despair flooded into them.
The non-dead eladrin slowed as they walked about, until they stood perfectly still. Veins and arteries began to creep out of their skin and worm their way into the soil. Their bones grew together and as one began to reach for the sky, stretching the mortals into vague tree shapes, over which muscle and skin were stretched. Their elvish features faded, and their skin turned a sickly, pale color that pulsed with the contracting of muscles that now took over for the failing hearts of the creatures.
Under the ground their bones and flesh and blood grew, coming up occasionally to create new fleshy trees. The few mortals that had free souls that Astriluxus could return to their bodies were quickly killed by these trees, and their bodies broken into fertilizer.
Buds formed on these plant-like things and from them sparks of new souls began to fly into the breeze.
Despair shot a glance at the Reaper and smiled, but quickly turned back to the golden god and waited.
1pp from despair, nourish: The Forest of Flesh - His power turns the former carnage into a forest of trees that are made from bone and flesh and blood rather than wood and sap. These trees tend to rip any creature that wanders into them into fertilizer
Sunbeams arced like stabbing blades of light through the dim air, catching specks of dancing dust in their bright glow. As the strangers picked their way through the rustling trees, the sunlight speckled their bodies. An unseen beastie rushed by through the undergrowth, setting the strangers on edge, who paused to scan the surrounding gloom. Something twitched above them, high up in the canopy, but the strangers paid no heed, for at that very moment, a deep rumbling rolled through the forest, breaking into bouts of startled cries as surprised woodland inhabitants fled their home.
"That isn't good..." murmured Mesha.
And just behind her, Nephrew spoke, "What was-"
But there was no time to finish the sentence. An explosion rocked the trees as a great many-headed creature burst from the trees. Lightning-fast the mouths darted out, felling one, then two of the Bahenet. Nephrew scrambled back, shouting. Mesha however, raised her blade, catching and scattering the sunbeams.
"You should not have come, my Lady."
-- Astral Winds --
As soon as they got themselves established in this new world, the elementals set off to explore this dazzling valley of immense colors and radiating beauty. IT was a world where everything and anything was possible. A new nation had established themselves within the confines of the colosseum, and they called themselves the Windwakers.
An assortment of creatures and plants came into view as soon as the elementals came onto land below the colosseum. A great, crystal-clear lake flowed before the mighty great rocks and rippling with the winds. It was a beautiful sight. A divine veil covered the lands, and something came into existence not too far from the land-locked settlements below the colosseum. Strange, new creatures had come alive and roamed the lands, and the waters.
-- North of former Nihiliath --
A few wandering elementals, whom had a previous connection with the Soulshard nation, had split off from the main group. They were few, but they had what they needed-- a connection with the nation and with Schi'vya. It was unusual to see elementals of all four types walking together in the open valley, but they all had a clear connection with each other. They were the Wandering Elements, and they were the messengers of the Serpents-- looking to find adventure and civilizations abroad.
-- Triskelion; Soulshard Nation --
After the recent attacks upon the nation, the inhabitants of the Soulshard Nation reassess themselves and prepare themselves for a future attack. This pack mentakity has made them more alert than ever, as they reinforce the fortified walls and build bigger shelters.
In concordance with all of this, a few had begun to start channeling their energies into usable forms of support and defense-- a type of revelation in their use of the elements and more. This in turn has made them a useful part of the nation, dubbing them as Paladins or Divine Soldiers. Though the idea was farfetched, it had made sense in the long run, as their powers grew to unprecedented heights.
2PP - Spawn beast (Mammals): Many types of mammals, such as deer, bears, primates, birds, and small game thrive in the wide forests and valleys of the Astral Winds.
1PP (from Guardians) - Spawn beast (Elemental Fish): Fish thrive in the lakes and waterways of the Astral Winds, carrying the essence of the elements within them.
1PP - Nourish Nation: The Soulshard nation has become a little bigger, and more prosperous from the recent attacks on a smaller settlement. This has made them more prepared for a future attack. In addition, a small group of elementals from the Soulshard Nation have taken a vow to explore the deeper reaches of the world beyond their homeland to find adventure and civilization. They have an extreme devotion to Schi'vya and the Serpents.
1PP (from serpents) - Nourish Nation (Specialization): A new breed of militants from the Soulshard Nation have formed a deep correlation with the use of their elemental powers-- mainly used to provide power from their deity to smite or protect those that they choose. They have been dubbed as Paladins-- or Divine Soldiers, as their nickname suggests.
Exarch -
Arbitration: 0PP
Genesis: 0PP
Artifact -
Combat: 1PP
"Perhaps.... I think I just need to sit down." Itja-Rek muttered, making his way to his throne and settling heavily upon it. There continued to be something tugging at the back of his mind... some ominous presence that seemed to be looming ever closer.
Shaking his head, he changed the subject.
"Mother, are you experiencing discomfort? Perhaps if you returned to your other form, you would find this upcoming Creation more pleasant?"
~Bahetshep~
It had taken several months before the true effects of the new blades became apparent. In the distant village where Angelique Pym was preparing for her first Severance, great concern was mounting over the fact that the latest Soul Repository seemed to be malfunctioning in an odd way. Usually, the individual repositories could hold five or six souls, enough for about a month in the new village. After two or three months, the filled Repositories were taken to the Altar and emptied. However, this Repository seemed to be defective, and had taken over twenty souls without giving any of the usual indications of reaching capacity. In fact, the souls seemed to simply be vanishing, as the elder smiths who made the Repositories were able to determine that there were no souls in the repository at all!
Curious, the village attempted to reach the bottom of this, and eventually someone suggested the new metal blades. Sure enough, reverting to the old blades restored the old ways of things. The Bahenet, being people who cared deeply for their prior souls even if they did not mourn their leavings, were relieved, and as they traveled, the knowledge of the old ways spread amongst the other groups of Bahenet until the strange metal knives were all but forgotten.
1 PP: Guide Populace: The Bahenet return to their old ways.
"But Shumet got his Severence done with the bloody-knife, why can't I?"
"Because, Nornal, we don't know why, but whenever we use the "bloody-knife" as you call it, the removed souls don't go to the repository."
"Well, maybe I don't want to give my soul to the repository!"
"NORNAL! How can you say such a thing?"
"What? It's not like anyone cares what happens to their soul."
"..."
"...mom?"
"My child, I am stunned that you could say such falsehoods! Of course we care what happens to the souls!"
"Then why do we dump the repositories out at the altar at all?"
"I... I... just go to bed, Nornal, we'll talk about this in the morning."
But while Nornal fell fast asleep, his mother found the dark dreaming eluded her. Why indeed? It felt right to undergo the Severence, to relieve oneself of the burdens of soulship, and to walk through life straighter and clearheaded. And yet, the child's naiveté was borderline irksome truth, nagging little secret.
For though their Soul Repository had been empty, even its void stone surface paled in comparison to the devouring gulf of the abyssal altar -- now that was truly empty.
And so it was across the empire. The whole incident with the seelite knives had cast a pall of introspection among the Bahenet. And the cognitive dissonance that had created did not sit well with a great many of them.
It did not help that the Seelite Knives were forbidden -- for their is no greater catalyst for desire than forbiddence.
-1 PP Guide -- Cultural Strife begins to simmer among the Bahenet, as those question the rightness of the "old ways".
The Tomb
The Mother still frowned concerned at the Itja-Rek, waddling over to him as he sat on the throne and sitting down on his knee. Which was a little awkward, her stomach seemed to be growing quite quickly! Putting her both her hand on her stomach, she felt the Children within it for a moment, before wrapping her arms around the Itja-Rek instead.
"If the you are sure he is alright... then I am sure you are alright," she told him, though looking a little worried none the less. "But I would not dream of abandoning this form," the Mother went on. "This form the Itja-Rek likes so much, and in which the Itja-Rek gave me Children in... doing so would be... be..."
The Mother looked sick for a second, before she leaned over the side of the throne and vomited up a river of slime and eggs, the entire enlarged contents of her stomach rushing out in a torrent of oral birthing.
"Excuse me," the said casually as she was done, wiping her mouth. "As i was saying, doing so would be against the very nature of the Children we are birthing... or have no been born rather," she corrected with a small smile.
A dangerous new faction was emerging within the Bahenet. They called themselves the Soulhunters, and they cherished the forbidden Seelite knives. It had become a mark of pride, for these Soulhunters, to have a crimson knife. Visual proof that they cleaved strongly to their convictions, that they meant what they claimed, and the foes they had slain.
For it quickly became apparent that the Seelite did not need the magic of the Severence to work its macabre qualities -- physically pricking someone with the knife was enough to tease out one or more of the Bahenet's souls. It wouldn't, perhaps, be nearly so effective on creatures whose souls were more solidly bound, but to their brothers, it was a horrendous weapon -- one that aged, which meant fighting those with Seelite weapons was a losing proposition, for if you slipped, even just once, there went your youth, your strength, your stamina, and your youth.
While the Soulhunters were a small, vocal, minority of Bahenet society, their ruthlessness and reputation more than made up for it. Already several of the more outlying settlements had "surrendered" to the group, allowing them free reign as a sort of vigilante police force.
Their actions within the major cities, were, perhaps, worse -- high priests were found dead, copies of the writings of the first elder were burned, and bands of Soulhunters began appearing at the daily Severences. Never violent, well, at least, not yet, they nevertheless taunted, cajoled, and jeered at those who would dare go to the altar. Every group that postponed or rescheduled their Severence was a victory in their book -- no longer would there be souls for the false soul god! They would make sure of that!
-2 Guide Organiztion -- The Soulhunters. This band of Bahenet grew out of a disdain for the "old ways" and the teachings of the elders. They hate the class-system that their multi-soul-tiered society implicitly encourages, and praise their Seelite weapons above all else. They think that only the strongest souls should rise to the top, and survival of the fittest (on the edge of their Seelite blades) is the only way to live.
-1 Denourish Bahetshep (the nation) -- The Soulhunters gain a modicrum of power, and cause general chaos. They are not openly rebelling or fighting anyone else, but they have made a habit of murdering priests.
Absalom sat silently and listened to the dragon God speak, listened to his defense, before responding with a tone that seemed betrayed contempt, “We were not critiquing the changes you made to this Shi’vya’s creations. We offered neither praise nor criticism of their form, their function, their polis, anything. We were objecting to the fact that you fundamentally altered the creation of another, one you claim to be your friend, without so much as asking for permission!!!”
Stepping forward and sweeping an arm to indicate the elemental Goddess at his side, “You speak of her as your friend, but your actions and your words betray themselves! Friends do not casually destroy and alter the work of friends, friends do not seek to pander away another’s actions or motivations by saying ‘she was emotional at the time!’ That is parochial and condescending! Not only are you expressing a jovial contempt at her actions, but you are casting a doubt against her mental stability by suggesting that her emotions compromised her work!”
“As for your physical property, do you remember a time before oh Dragon Father?” Something about the way Absalom said these last words spoke of a joke that Astriluxus, and the twinkle of laughter rested in the set of his eyes. “When the world was green and hills rolled on to eternity? Can you recall a time before the chaos, before the emptiness, before this world? Because I recall seeing creatures baring your form in that initial madness, creatures composed of living crystal and resembling your ferocious physique. However, I do not believe for a second that you created them, which would suggest that your ‘physical property’ is in fact…..”
Just then, before he could finish, two other beings seemed to approach. They both had a trace of divine power about them, but nowhere near the quantities found in a true God. Instead, their presence felt more akin to that of the Codex or the Masquerade hanging at his side, or even the Persona with which he wrapped himself.
One seemed to be an ominous fog, discolored and nauseating, the other some serpentine beast that appeared to be rotting before his very eyes. The fog spoke, revealing its name and its purpose, however it revealed more than just that. “Why do you resent your place and your creator?”
Pointedly, Absalom had seemed to ignore the question regarding his name….
The actions of the Soulhunters were not taken lightly. The priests, feeling justifiably threatened by their actions, began to hire bodyguards armed with the same seelite metal. The prefered weapon of the guards was a modification of a standard quarterstaff. Turned one way, it was the standard wooden weapon of bodyguards everywhere: more than capable of disarming and knocking out one or more assailants. But if they shifted their staffs one quarter turn, a narrow line of Seelite teeth were revealed, each one capable of biting into their foe and relieving them of one or more souls. Armed with these new weapons, the guards were posted at all important meetings and ceremonies, and soon the influence of the Soulhunters, and their presence in the villages seemed to diminish.
But of course, it did not disappear. Despite official edicts banning the use of the metal and the organization, in the alleys of the larger cities the glint of a red blade was still seen every once in a while and the whispered name of the Soulhunters was still heard.
As time progressed, the guards and the priests they guarded began reffering to themselves with a new name: The Shepherd's Cane, as they viewed themselves as the protectors and those who could most effectively provide guidance to the troubled Bahenet people. Out went bands of the Cane and drove out the Soulhunters from the outlying villages. However, oftentimes as soon as the Cane would leave the Hunters would return, resulting in a chaotic and ever-tipping balance in those villages.
However, the greatest breakthrough in the protection against the Soulhunters occured when a Bahenet scientist, working with the forbidden metal, found a way to pound it flat and mold it into a shield. It was found that when it blocked a Seelite dagger, all the souls would be transfered from the dagger to the shield in a hot torrent of crying souls. If enough souls transferred, the blade would shatter into useless fragments.
From the highest orders of the Cane, a message came down to its members: discover who introduced Seelite to our people, and punish them. Long and hard did the Cane look, but eventually, their eyes turned to the Warped Court to the Hub, for all agreed that it had been an Eladrin that had first given the deadly metal to the People. Under the pretenses of trade, the Cane spread its hand into the Warped Court.
With all these changes, the Bahenet enjoyed renewed prosperity, expanding further from their ancestral homes.
~Divine Gathering~
The Reaper smiled happily as Despair worked, and placed her hand onto the trunk of one of the new trees. Abruptly, the forest seemed to double in size, expanding faster than the mortals could flee and catching them with woody branches which lifted them high into the air before flaying the flesh from their bones. The Reaper lifted her hand and all the freed souls flowed towards her and into her basket.
"That... was highly satisfying." she said.
2 PP: Found Organization: The Shepherd's Cane begins operations in the Bahenet race.
2 PP: Spread Organization: The Cane expands to the Warped Court
2 PP: Teach Populace: Seelite Armor, capable of rendering Seelite weaponry inert is learned by the Bahenet.
2 PP: Nourish Populace: The Bahenet gain great advances in prosperity
1 PP (from Reaper): Nourish Land: The Forest of Flesh expands!
1/9 +2/3 PP (divine, genesis) remaining.
"Bahetshep demands retribution! Whether in ignorance or in blind malice, your traders have cleaved our peaceful society in twain! We~"
"Enough!" The Lord of the Warped Court gestured sharply with his hand, and though the Shepherd continued his rant, Imbrel no longer had to hear his vitriol.
The Bahenet continued silently for several more moments before the lack of voice was finally noticed.
"For the third and final time, The Warped Court neither aided, abetted, intentionally misled, callously introduced, nor performed any other action involved with transferring this hated metal to your people."
Lord Imbrel drew the Seelite dagger the Shepherd had brought against his skin. Pale red blood immediately began to stain the Lord's fine silks, but he did not age, nor did he lose his soul -- for he had only the one, and Seelite would never leave a body soul-less.
"And your presumptions that we would know something about this "soul-metal" of yours speaks to your ignorance. It may affect your, lesser, race adversely, but if it does not alter us Eladrin in any way, how would we know to trick you into accepting the metal in the first place? We Archfey may be powerful, but we cannot simply divine materials into existence -- nor do we have need to."
A pair of wood waifs entered the room then, immediately setting about binding Lord Imbrel's arm in white bandages. The Shepherd looked to be trying to say something again. Irritably, Lord Imbrel waved his arm again, and winced at the unrestrained deluge coming from the Bahenet's mouth.
"--still cannot account for the fact that it was Eladrin traders who brought the metal into our homeland in the firstplace, so clearly--"
The Lord of the Warped Court repeated the silencing gesture. "This simpleton cannot even fathom that the Warped Court simply has no interest in him or his people. Tell me, Vrjaxx, does he honestly think we are the only band of Eladrin in existence?"
The Mindflayer idly twirled his face tentacles and emitted the burbling sound that passed for Illithid laughter. //It would not surprise me. What would you have me do, Lord?//
Lord Imbrel considered the silenced (and still raving) humanoid for a moment longer.
"Rake his mind for useful information. If nothing else, this Seelite could be useful if we ever come into conflict with his nation. When you're done, go to the rest of the members of his party, and 'encourage' them to visit someone else. Let the Wygrove Confederacy or the Soulshard imbeciles deal with these lunatics."
[sblock = PP Expenditure]
-1 PP Guide -- The Warped Court branch of the Shepherd's Cane is 'encouraged' to expand into The Soulshard Nation, instead of the Warped Court.
[/sblock]
7/9 +0/3
Once the reconstruction was finished, the surviving elementals (which was the majority) went back to their usual defenses-- well it was heightened defenses. At the aid of Schi'vya and her newly-formed divine servants, the elementals could have a chance to stop the unknown forces that were at work.
Draekan spotted a few unusual humanoid figures walk through the trees towards the nation-- with some strange weapons in their hands. He placed his hand upon his. Not knowing what the circumstances were, he shouted towards the figures. "Hold! What brings you all the way out here to our settlement with arms?"
For a lone while Harkon and Armal drifted below the floating continent. What to do, what to do, they wondered, about all that water that was falling off into the void. They could always make more, but that wasn't a very caring thing, to leave water to be lost forever, especially in that unsettling void.
In this the two were of like mind, and so they found that they were drawn together, back into the single, two-eyed, six-limbed form of Harkon Armal. The god didn't waste time relishing his reunion but rather he called to water as only water can, commanded it, and from the nothingness of the void... nothing. Though he pulled, there was water that was so far away. Anchoring his essence to Mani, he dove down into the endless waterfall, speeding over days and months and years, downwards (or upwards, as the void lacked direction), until after an age he came to the bottom and seized the water there. Turning, he began the long process of pulling himself, and the water, back to the world along the connection he still had to his artifact. Across the years and months and days he climbed, until he was once more in the light of sol and mani. There he sent the water he had collected, as well as the water that still tried to fall into the void, coursing around the world, looping and winding until all the world was protected from the sight of the void. There was water above as there was below.
Satisfied, Harkon sank to the floating continent and burbled around, looking at the great shell of water that now protected the world. It was only a few inches thick, but it would do for now.
Unexpectedly, he flowed over an unusual object. "Aaviz?" he asked? It had been ages since he had seen that god.
1PP from Sol&Mani, 3PP from Harkon: Mold Land Greater - Harkon creates an outer shell of water that encases all the world and protects it from the sight of the void. It's far enough out that it includes the floating continent, and it is at the same altitude as Titan's Glacier.
3pp +Genesis +Arbitration +Divine +combat left
"Hi," Harkon responded to Aaviz. "Do you know me? That is an interesting philisophical question. I mean, sure, we've met and we're both divine beings of sorts, but does that really convey knowing? The Summoner called me forth, but could I even say that HE knows me? For that matter, can we even say that we know ourselves, or would such a claim just be self-delusion?"
Frowning slightly, Aaviz resumed watching the lands below, considering how best to deal with the new effect that he could see.
Shrugging, he lay flat on his stomach, hanging his head over the edge of the floating aerie, changing the center of his attention to those below.
The lord of water's took one of his eyes in his talons and dangled it over the edge that the hatted god was looking, to see what he was seeing. "Whatcha looking at?"
So much has happened, so much work yet to be done. So many things yet to be seen. There is one more thing left out of the equation. Something reliable, something measurable. Something to spark the creation of many things. Something that controls the elements.
The thoughts that raced through her mind channeled her energies through and around her. The tingling of her sword increased, sending needles of pain through her. She summoned her sword into her hand, and at once the energies moved to her weapon, turning into a maelstrom of divine and elemental energy. For a brief second, she thought the blade had a mind of its own, and then the energies quickly dissipated. In its place, the sword was laden with earthen hilt, glowing with the fires underneath, the blade was crafted out of a thin mist of water, and the blade was covered with light winds. The Blade of the Four Winds was quickly dispatched, or it just became a small tingle once again. This was a new weapon, but instead of it being malicious in nature, it was instead a weapon of creation-- a divine charter to the endless ocean of creation. It was perplexing, but she knew that it would be helpful in the long run.
Meanwhile, the guidance of the dragons took the nation to newer heights. They started to expand even further, and started to learn newer things and acquire newer skills. One such was the art of hunting-- many of the Air Elementals had become such advanced hunters that they had gained popularity amongst the nation's inhabitants. These few warriors had been dubbed as Rangers-- hunters adept in effectively killing their prey from a distance or up close. They are the supreme defenders of the wilderness, and are the secret guardians that hide in the bushes, ambushing almost anything that they cross paths with.
New animals started to appear towards the center of the Triskelion-- small, anthropodic stones that looked like a chiton. Whenever they sensed movement, they would curl themselves up in a ball of rock. A normal predator would only view this monstrous bug as no more than a huge rock, and it was extremely inedible. These bug-like creatures ate the natural vegetation around them-- the Earth Chitons were born.
1PP - Nourish Nation: The Soulshard nation spreads a little further, gaining headway and developing more smaller, sparse communities along the eastern border of the Triskelion.
1PP (1 from serpents) - Nourish Nation (Specialization): Hunters of the forests, efficient with the bow and arrow, they can take down prey in a single shot. Some are adept to handling two swords and can hack prey to pieces. They are stealthy, and they have the ability to hide amongst to trees and bushes of the natural forests.
1PP (from guardians) - Spawn Lesser Beast (Earth Chitons): Small bugs with an armored shell made out of tough rocks. When rolled up in defense, they appear as oversized rocks. They are extremely distasteful, and they like to eat natural vegetation that lies helplessly on the forest floor. They are non-aquatic.
Combat: 1 pp
Divine: ---
Arbitration: 0 pp
Genesis: 0 pp
"Mmhmmm, mhmm, mhmm," Harkon said, bobbing his eye up and down in his hand. "Any particular reason, or are you just into watching things?"
As the god waited for Aaviz to respond, the hole in the veil turned aglow. A brilliant spark of fire came flying through it, pursued by a rampaging storm. Behind them all came a bit of earth, soaring in their wake. The lord of waters felt a connection to him, as if there power was the same as his, and so he called out to them. The fire, unsure of what had occured, turned and crashed into the land near the two gods. Almost as soon as she touched the ground the storm fell upon her.
"Perhaps you should try the inside of the world," Harkon said as his talons sank into the cloudy mass of the storm. With a grunt he heaved it off of the fire and sent it hurling over the edge of the continent, rainy-tendrils of mist brushing past Aaviz. "Things seem to be a bit more active in there than out here."
A whistling sound could be heard as the earthen mass that had followed the other two elements came plummeting through the air towards those assembled there.
"Case in point," the watery one added as he prepared to catch the thing.
Swatting his hand through the air like brushing a fly, he shoved the strange storm aside, insuring that it missed the continent below, falling into the void. "I suppose I should get around to moving this thing again. Need to get outside that newest wall of water someone put up."
"Why?" Harkon asked as he caught the earth-mote. The force of the impact pushed him into Aaviz and together all of them tumbled over the side. However, the god's talon's held fast to the underside of the land and he in turn to Aaviz and the fallen stone, so they didn't fall to the continent below or the void. But they had fallen into the path of the storm, which had righted itself and was returning in their direction.
"I highly recommend against a void-sky. It's not healthy." He set down the chunk of earth, which began to uncurl into a stoney figure with eight psuedopod appendages. The fire from earlier began to creep along the underside of the island as well.
The Reaper gradually became aware of a pitiful moaning. A lone Virago lay, shackled to a tree with a pair of rusty... well, shackles. Upon closer inspection, the red-haired Eladrin's body was some distance away, missing both legs and much of its face -- so this thing then, bound into the tree as it was, must be its soul.
Translucent green eyes flickered and cringed away from the Reaper as the exarch drew close, as if the creature's presence was a bright light erupting into a previously dark room. The soul mewled helplessly, but made little other sound.
It scrabbled at the dirt, trying to drag itself as far away from the Reaper as possible.
A soul, free for the taking? Well... that was lovely! The Reaper quickly slithered over to the soul and raised her basket, reaching out for it with eager hands...
~SoulShard Nation~
"Weapons?" The head Cane asked. "We merely carry these shields for protection, friends. We come from the Bahenet peoples far to the west. Is this the nation of Soulshards?"
~The Tomb~
A corner of Itja-Rek's mouth twitched as The Mother gave birth. That certainly didn't seem to be the... standard... way of doing this sort of thing. His look lasted only a moment though as he examined the eggs.
They were very small... smaller than he had expected. Had they given birth to... small beings? He imagined that would be okay...
One of the nearby eggs began to rock back and forth slightly, and soon a thin crack appeared in it. A leg, impossibly thin, wormed its way through, slowly widening the crack as it did so. On and on the leg came, still thin, but four, now five, now nearly ten feet in length! Eventually, the leg stopped at about fifteen feet. It flexed and sent a ripple along its length, which shattered the weakened egg. Seven more thin legs unraveled from around a translucent torso that was half human and half spider. The legs pushed, and the Shepherd lifted itself up, torso resting in a well made by the legs, which arched upwards before coming down to join the main body, carrying the torso as if by a sling.
All around, more and more eggs were hatching, and Itja-Rek fed a tendril of power through all of them, helping those within to hatch and grow strong faster. Walking over to the wall where Cruias had emerged, Itja-Rek snapped his fingers and Spark appeared. Together, they used the still-weak bit of stone to craft a gateway to The Shepherd's new home, the only way for a mortal to enter.
"Come, Mother. Let us settle our new Children into their home." he said, turning to the goddess and offering her his hand.
1PP: Nourish Population: Nourish the Shepherds.
2 PP (1 from spark): Create Artifact: Afterlife Gateway: A way for mortals to enter the afterlife without... well, dying first.
7/9 +2/3 PP remaining.
The Reaper's arm had barely brushed the Eladrin's flesh when the Virago erupted into a flurry of life and motion.
The Reaper felt cold steel close around her wrist -- she looked down to see the creature embracing her decaying, shrunken form. A crimson tear appeared in the corpse's forehead, and a flash of scarlet erupted, careful to avoid touching the chain that had newly bound The Reaper.
Startled more than anything, The Reaper moved to jump back, only managing to send herself into a painful flop. The corpse followed, entangled in both the shackles and The Reaper's own clasping hands, giving the exarch a lurid, death-filled hug.
Malice straddled the prone figure, smiling cruelly. A deft hand plucked the basket of souls from where it had fallen. She winked, blew The Reaper a kiss, and stalked off. As her figure diminished into the distance, The Reaper could only watch in some mild concern as the interloper shrunk and elongated into a facsimile of The Reaper herself!
That, at least, was enough to shake off her sense of stunned surprise. Yet-- the Reaper grunted, stretched, and flexed -- the shackles and the corpse of the Eladrin held her firm. She screamed in rage -- or tried to, finding herself unequivocally mute.
A strange emotion began to fester in her heart as a final flare of Malice's magic caused the ground around her to push up. It was getting... so very dark...
-0 PP -- Bind The Reaper with the Feymire Shackles (with Toph's blessing!)
-1 PP -- Nourish Land -- The Center of the Forest of Flesh becomes host to a massive, gnarled, petrified tree. This is the only plant in the forest that does not seep soulstuffs. The Reaper is entombed inside, and the sporadic poundings she makes on the inside of the tree lend credence to a rumor that the grove is haunted.
'Shields?' "If you are referring to the Soulshard nation, then yes. What is it that you come here for?" Draekan spoke to the leaders of the trespassers. He held on to the hilt of his blade, and kept his other hand on his hip. the others kept their guard up, but did not act on their own when the intruders got close.
"Since you seem to like hanging out here in the up and out," Harkon asked Aaviz, "by any chance do you have an inkling of what these... things are about?"
~Forest of Flesh~
Despair was patient for the golden god to respond, but he noted the Reaper's absence and wondered where she had gotten herself to.
Despair had only to remark on her absence to trigger her reappearance. "The Reaper" emerged from within the deeper parts of the forest in all her hooded, emaciated glory.
She slithered up to the gathering, glancing at the assembled gods, and then Despair.
"My basket is full, for now. Know that my absence shall only be temporary" she menaced at the elemental god.
She nodded at Despair. "I go now to my master. Come. Or don't." And with that, she slithered off, making headway towards The Tomb.
"A shame," Harkon commented. "Since you seem to have traveled widely, I had thought you might have run into these things, or things like them."
Several dragon-like heads emerged from the storm cloud and screeched at the fire that was now crackling slowly next to the stone creature. Pulling again on the invisible strings of power that seemed to attach these creatures to himself, Harkon forced the storm to stop mid air, between them all and the continent below (or above, depending on if one's perspective is rightside up or upside down).
The lord of waters rose up to his full height to examine the creature. "I don't suppose you can talk?" he asked.
"Release me, or die."
"Well, that is something. I don't suppose the rest of you can?"
The fire crackled a response that wasn't quite a word, but almost, as if it was shy. And who could blame it, with such a creature as the storm pursuing it. Likewise the stone creature grunted an affirmative. These beings didn't seem to trust him.
"... alright." Harkon leaned closer to the storm. "What are you?" The creature merely sneered. Again Harkon pulled on the strings of power that connected them, forcing the creature to answer.
"Agrilnost, lord of the airs."
The stone creature seemed more interested at this development.
"Agrilnost... hmm, the name sounds familiar, as do you look, but why... Aaviz," Harkon asked, maneuvering the storm right in front of the other god so he had no choice but to look at it, or through it, "you sure you've never seen this before? It seems so familiar, somehow."
Itja-Rek stepped back through the portal after guiding the last of the Shepherds through. He smiled at The Mother.
"I think they will be very happy there." he said, looking through the portal to the shimmering river beyond. Soon, their children would start collecting souls for that river... souls that would eventually find a way back to life, or find peace in the ever-flowing water.
"I think I'm going to take a look outside. Not that I don't love your company, but I still feel... strange and I think it must be coming from beyond my Tomb."
He turned and floated upwards through the rocks and stones of his Tomb until he arrived at the door, which he unsealed.
A blast of wind knocked the door into his face, sending him falling backwards. It howled down the corridor, and he was certain that even in the depths, The Mother could feel the force of it.
"What?" he said as he got to his feet and pushed his way out of the tunnel.
A mighty storm was hanging directly over his mountain! From its look and feel, it could only be the work of another God... another god who was trying to do him harm! He slammed his fist into the mountain, sending stones falling down to the earth, and jumped into the air, seeking out whomever had sent the storm to get his attention. He had a few likely candidates in mind... and the top on on his list was The Monarch.
From where Itja-Rek had pounded his fist, thin tracings of energy flowed down the mountain, gathering power as they went from the energy of the storm above and the souls within. Soon, beneath the surface of the world flowed two vast streams of power, searching out for... something...
~Ogre-Halfling Village~
Ever since their creation, the Ogres and halflings had buried their dead in close-together graves. Oftentimes, family members would be buried in the same graves as each other in large plots. Each family maintained a portion of the forest as their own graveyard, and for some of the oldest families, their gravesites stretched for nearly a mile.
And so it was that one of the streams of soul-power found one of the larger gravesites, and flowed into it, binding together the bodies that were lying so conveniently next to one another and imbuing it with a shared spirit... well, not much of a shared spirit, but at least a bit of one. One by one, the Blasphemes crawled from the ground and wandered off into the forests, leaving the disturbed graves for the halflings to find in the morning.
~Warped Court~
The Fey lords wrapped their dead in magical cloth coverings that preserved them from decay. It also prevented their souls from escaping to the afterlife. The second stream found these souls waiting, furious at their predicament, and granted their wish. One by one, driven mad from their years of imprisonment, the fey rose up and walked!
~SoulShard Nation~
The Cane leader looked hurt.
"You would accuse us of ill-intent because we carry things to defend ourselves with? Perhaps we should not offer you the chance to trade with our mighty and prosperous nation. Very well."
~The Crossroads~
The Revenant nation began to spread our from its original city, slowly forgetting the precepts taught to it by their long-sleeping creator.
~The Petrified Tree~
What? Let me go! The Reaper cried out in her head, slamming her fists against the bark of the tree.
No response. Just the crushing blackness surrounding her. In rage, she released some of the power bestowed upon her by her Master. The power flowed into the tree and down into the soil, where roots from the tree spread outwards to the edges of the Forest of Flesh...
2 PP: Spawn Beast: Blasphemes wander the forest.
2 PP: Spawn Beast: Fey Vestiges stalk the mausoleums of the Warped Court.
1 PP: Nourish Population: The Crossroads expands.
1 PP(from Reaper): Nourish: The Root system of the petrified tree expands...
2/7 + 1/3 PP remaining
The Dragon Corps secured the roads between the Eladrin nation of the Warped Court and the Dragonborn; highwaymen and bandits were hunted down vigorously and their punishments were as unsightly to behold as their crimes were unlawful. The cold as steel rule that the Drahken imposed was tolerated primarily because the benefits were ample enough to silence outrage. The Dragon Corps themselves benefited as well, as they taxed the trade so as to fund their fighting forces.
The forces of the organization also began to move west and in the process came across the far outposts of the Bahenet people and the strange red metal that some of their less-than-savory elements used. Perhaps there was an unholy taint in the blood of the Drahken, for the Dragon Corps took samples of this metal in their raids on criminal outposts and came to develop an unpleasant use for it and spread it across all the lands they patrolled. Criminals whose acts merited worse than death were sentenced instead to a dark ritual involving this metal, in which souls were forcibly combined in bodies. Perhaps the criminal would have souls implanted in his or her own body, or perhaps they'd be implanted in others. But the struggle for control, the degradation and punishments they were forced to endure lifetime after lifetime, was a unique torture.
3PP Nourish/Trade - Warped Court, Dragonborn nation, and Dragon Corps. Since three groups are involved, an extra PP seemed prudent.
1PP +1PP from Despair, Teach - Drahken learn to use seelite to separate souls of all creatures, without destroying them, and force them into other living hosts, creating a sort of soul prison for really bad criminals.
4PP remaining
'These children of mine need a home. A place of sanctuary-- a brewing pot for endless possibilities. They must be able to unite and stand strong. It must be uniform but free. It must be orderly but chaotic. They must have a home that shares the same personality as they do as a whole. A place that flows with rythm and madness. I shall call this new home the Elemental Chaos.'
Out somwhere in the blackness of the void outside of the new world, a strange star twinkled in the darkness. A sort of beacon calling out to something. The star was dim, but it seemed as if it was the only one that could be seen from outsiders.
-- The ordained chaos --
Roiling fire. Hissing water. Turbulent winds. Crumbling rock. It seemed like a disaster in this new home, a place unwelcome to any beings not native of the elements. Even so, it was a malicious melting pot of everything. It rose, fell, twisted, bubbled, flowed, and still the raging sea of the elements could not stop. Almost immediately, as if a single command was thrown over the air, the elementals started to pop out from this soup of chaos, being tossed and drowned by the various elements that malevolently flowed around them. Still, the elementals perveyed the worst and the sea of chaos started to mellow a bit. A new colony had been brought to life by the mere call of their patron. The dragons appeared shortly after the arrival of the elementals, as their duty had been fulfilled.
Small, elemental creatures started to appear from within the soup of chaos, carrying the same traits as the elementals, yet they acted completely different. Creatures that seemed like miniature versions of the serpents. They had a reptilian build with elemental powers. It was an interesting sight for the elementals themselves.
-- Triskelion continent --
As the adventuring party continued on its way, they had reached the inland sea. They were in the valley where the river met the top of the inlet. They had found a way across the river, and were headed for a patch of forest towards the northern mountains.
There was a patch of grass that was somehow crushed under something that had been here before. They studied the landscape to disover that this patch of crushed grass continued up to the veil of the forest ahead. The fire elemental named Braxus felt the ground and was surprides to know something interesting. "Hmm... this strange phenom was made by another fire lord."
One of the air elementals glanced at Braxus. "You sure?"
"Oh yes, definitely." He picked up a small chunk of glowing rock. "It's still hot, but it's starting to fade. It was not left here too long ago."
Kistern looked up at the horizon. "Well, if that's the case, then we're gonna be up against some serious opposition from the fire lords."
-- Triskelion continent: Outside the Godspire... --
A few elementals were sent over to investigate a 'tall pillar of rock that stretched up into the heavens' from the outer reaches of the Triskelion itself. It took them a while to make the journey, and they had gone past a couple of Drakhen travelling parties. It was not a grueling task, but it would require some mental stability to be able to climb up the large pillar. One of the earth elementals attempted to place its hand on the rock. What happened next was a complete surprise. It was as if the rock had pulled it in by some invisible force. The elemental stood up, only to be staring at its other frineds sideways, as they looked in utter frustration.
The earth elemental looked 'up' the spire of rock. "Well, I guess we go forward."
An air elemental did the same thing and found itself pulled to the rock the same way. It was as if the rock itself was the ground, so the others followed suit. One of them smiled. "Wow! This'll be easy!"
"It's as if the rock itself has its own force of gravity..." The earth elemental implied.
[sblock=PP Expenditures]4pp -- Create Greater Plane (Elemental Chaos): A soup of disorderly chaos, where fire burns, water churns, earth crumbles, and air twirls. The mixture of the elements makes this plane seem inhospitable to many. Creatures native to the elements or the elemental chaos are immune to the plane's harmful effects. There are safe zones within the plane, where the chaos was less malevolent. These are areas where outsiders can safely stay on, but such safe zones are only temporary, and the outsiders must move quickly to avoid becoming consumed within the plane's wrath.
2pp -- Guide Nation (Ordained Chaos): This nation consists primarily of elementals of all four types. They are all spread out amongst the chaos of the plane.
2pp (1 from guardians) -- Spawn lesser beast (Elemental Drakes): These simple creatures are reincarnations of the wild chaos that exists within the Ordained Chaos. These creatures are the balance between order and chaos.
1pp -- Guide Nation: The Ordained chaos expands within the plane, becoming more sparsely populated from each other.
1pp (from serpents) -- Guide Nation: The Soulshard nation starts to expand outwards. A small colony has been sent to investigate a 'tall tower of rock that reached up to the heavens' (a la Godspire
).
"My friend....." And right as he was about to say something he disappeared with a loud pop! Reappearing briefly in the golden forest, he started heaving before disappearing again. He reappeared suddenly at the Hive before finally being able to catch his breath. "That wasn't fun. I wonder where I am now?" Right as he was about to take a step forward to start to explore, he collapses in exhaustion. Body instincively curling up and shrinking, he turns into a tiny dragon ring sleeping away.
~dragonborn nation
The priests of the protecter are in a slight disarray. The head priest getting everyone together he calms them all down. While they know their god is still alive, they can tell something odd happened. And while they can still feel his divine presence, they know its weaker and it feels very far away. They let none of the ley-people know about this lest a panic start. Adventure parties are formed in secret to find out what happened.
~Somewhere on Sairok
Pollox had been travelling all over the land. Visiting different peoples and lands. It didn't take too long to hear about the Ib-Mew and what was going on. He was preparing to move that way when he felt the sudden jumping of his god. Immedieatly setting out for the godspire, he knew what direction to go, but not quiet where he is. He prayed that he was able to find his god before someone else did.
[/sblock=ooc]
Astriluxus is currently sleeping in a ring form for pretty much anyone to find, mortal and god alike. While the clergy is completely clueless as to what happened, the chosen Pollux isn't. He is headed on a path to the godspire to eventually make his way to the hive. How long it'll take and what he'll find is anyones guess! I hope to be back in a week or two! I hope. so have fun!
[sblock]
"Ah, well at least if you recognize them, I can't be too crazy, then. Agrilnost, you say? Can't remember meeting him, which is odd, as I tend to remember fairly well. When was that? Before or after the end of Culthet? And how did I come to get a connection to them..."
The storm raged and screeched as Harkon's invisible shackles bound it. "By what witchcraft do you name me, worm? Release me, and you will find out just how not dead I am."
The flame licked its way across the upside down ground and crackled gently next to Aaviz. As the flames grew higher they began to take a vaguely female shape, tall and fierce, with wings of fire. "Yes," she asked quietly, "I too am curious to discover how you have come to know my name. I have only had the chance to speak it once, to Aramorg here, and there was no time for him to tell others. Are you a powerful wizard? Do you foresee my future?"
Sliding away from the standing flames, he shrugged. "I've been called a wizard and I take the title but I don't know that I am. But no, I don't foresee the future. Though, I suppose if I worked out the formula that represents existence," he muttered, beginning to write on the air, vague formulas and notes scrawling out, glowing silver, "I probably could though. Just need to find a setup that accounts for the nature chaos of existence, while taking into consideration the presence of free will, yet is sturdy enough to remain viable through these constraints."
Helidthrugbek looked dismally out of his tower window and sighed. Due to a drought, the farms he owned had yielded very little this harvest, and someone had stolen a large amount of his other assets. It had gotten to the point where he couldn't afford a decent feeding ritual. He was an almost skeletal figure, his flesh, muscles and tentacles shrunken from malnutrition. He was interrupted from his self-pity by a knock at the door. "Come in," said the illithid. The door opened to reveal one of his Virago servant girls, a minor magician who was doing what she could to keep Helidthrugbek alive. But they both knew that the end was coming swiftly. As the servant began to chant the words that would, at least for the moment, sustain him, a strange thought entered the mindflayer's head. He dismissed the thought almost instantly, but it kept creeping back in, trying to convince him to do the unthinkable. We're all alone, some dark portion of him reasoned, no one would have to know, and I could easily pass the blame onto another servant. As much as he struggled, tried to steel himself against this barbaric act, his dark side just kept getting stronger, even more so as he resisted. Then, finally, he gave in to his most basic instinct...
Helidthrugbek looked down at the brainless corpse of the servant girl. He wasn't especially proud of what he had done, and in fact had liked that particular servant. But it was either him or her, he reasoned, so it might as well have been her. And something about it just felt- right! And then he realized that he and his ilk had been stifling themselves by turning their backs on their nature, which they should've embraced from the start. Glancing around the room, he saw his old symbol of Hulna. He had kept it as a reminder of what he and his people had escaped from, but now he found himself doing something that he hadn't done in a while. He clutched the symbol and whispered, "Oh Keeper of Secrets, hide my deed from prying eyes, and let the worthy know of the truth I have found, that your people may be strengthened." He then left the tower to seek out some old accomplices who might listen to his message.
Warped Court
Kayle donned her Guild cloak and dagger and crept into the night. Now was the time to strike. After some of the mindflayers went on a feeding frenzy, the Guild had learned that the quickest way to peoples' hearts was through the stomachs. She and her allies led several raids on storehouses, farms, and even the supplers of food. The psionic terrorists took what they could and destroyed the rest, leaving behind a starving nation for their master to conquer.
Dreambeacon Secret
Hulna sat on his throne in Dreambeacon, with his daughter and his most trusted aides by his side. The Warped Court was in a state of panic, and many believed the Nihilians should capitalize. However, there were too few soldiers to launch a sizeable invasion, and trade at this point was just not profittable. As Hulna let his advisors debate what action to take, Ur stepped forward and said, "I have a plan, Father," at which poit one of the aides drew a dagger and lunged at Hulna, only to have the blade burried in his own chest. Hulna turned to his daughter and said, "Only one assailant this time, Ur? I am dissappointed." At that moment, the rest of the gathered nobles drew daggers and flung them at Hulna, and were rewarded with only a punctured brain. Hulna smiled and said, "Much better. Proceed." Ur unleashed a wave of psychic energy into the nearby gravel, which rose into what seemed to be a large flower bud. She then cassually tossed one of the aides into the creature, and within minutes, an exact duplicate had come out of the creature, grabbed a dagger, and saluted his new Emperor. Hulna laughed and said, "Begin teaching the others of this creation of yours. we will strike in three months."
The Warped Court, or Just Outside It
Gathered in the forest surrounding the Warped Court was a huge Nihilian force, disguised as a wild tribe of eladrin and drow. All of the mindflayers were underground, staying out of sight and out of the Warped Court's conscious minds, while still leading the troops through dream control. Hulna was scattered among the leaders of the respective groups, boosting their psionic abilities and facilitating ease of communication. Then the telepathic order to charge came in, and the army dived down on the unsuspecting eladrin.
The First War had begun.
PP
9/9 PP + 1 from Ur
-1 PP Denourish Warped Court: Mindflayer feeding frenzy.
-1 PP Denourish Warped Court: The Guild of Concealed Thoughts knock out several food suppliers.
-2 PP Teach Nihiliath (1 from Ur): The Nihilians learn how to create deepspawn, a living cloning device.
-1 PP Nourish Nihiliath: The deepspawn increase Nihiliath's populations.
-1 PP Attack Populace: The Nihilians attack the Warped Court, sparking the First War.
4 PP remaining.
The Drahken had always known that their old masters might in time find the tunnels that lead from the outerdark to the world of light. The paths were never large, hardly enough for refugees to flee through and certainly not large enough for an army, so they had felt a degree of safety, but they were not foolish. The paths were watched. Without a doubt, they did not know every exit from the tunnels, but those that remained outside their knowledge did so because they were small, roundabout, and difficult to navigate.
So it was that when Nihilian slaves-soldiers began to exit the tunnels they did so under the awareness of Dragon Corps patrols, which were oft in those areas. Word was sent with hooved speed and an appropriate welcome was made ready. Though the total of the corps could not face the combined might of the ancient Nihilian empire, they struck with guile instead. As the slave-army assembled, it became abundantly apparent that the mindflayers were absent from their ranks, making it clear to the Drahken that their old masters were still underground. Small fighting forces were stationed at each tunnel outlet that the Drahken knew, and when the Illithids attempted to rush out, they were cut down. So narrow were the tunnels that dozens of soldiers could hold them against armies of hundreds. The Dragonforged gave ground only when dead, and with their death they collapsed the tunnel exits, trapping the mindflayers underground. It was nigh impossible for them to find a way around the blockades, and it would take months to dig their way out.
As for the slaves, however, the signal had been given and they engaged the Warped Court in war. Curiously, the Drahken, though they had prevented the mindflayers from reaching the light, joined in on the side of the slaves and against the mindflayers of the warped court. The taint of their old masters was clear to them; as soon as they had begun to patrol trade routes with that nation, they knew that the world was not free. However, they Drahken were not without pity, and they spared the lives of any non-illithids whenever they could. It was not genocide, but it was close.
The ferocity with which the Dragon Corp fought inspired the slave army and as the war continued the minds of the slaves grew strong and resistant to the ethereal control of the mindflayers that were still stuck below. In time, the slave force began to disperse, the eladrin and others leaving Nihilia's authority and returning to their own people.
1PP, Denourish Nihilians: the Dragon corps masacres the mindflayer army as it bottlenecks itself trying to come out from the underground. To note, these bottlenecks were established early on. See post#1176 community.wizards.com/go/thread/view/758...
1PP, Mold Land Minor: Seal the tunnel exists that the mindflayer army is attempting to use. The remaining exits from the underground network are only suited for the few random mindflayers to make it to the inner world.
1PP, Denourish Warped Court: The dragon corps kills the mindflayers of that nation exclusively, leaving Eladrin untouched whenever they are able. To my understanding, this should essentially eliminate them from that nation.
1PP, Guide Nihilian: a large portion of the slave army deserts Nihilia and returns to their own people.
Started with 9pp this turn, 5PP remaining
"Die, Mindbender!"
When the Drahken guerilla burst into his study, Valverinox was ready, sending a burst of psionic power at the intruder. The power swirled around the dragon-like warrior, twisting, probing, and then falling limply about its shoulders like so much ectoplasmic dead weight.
The intruder paused, startled, but then snarled with menace as the calm mindflayer. "Your psychic power is useless against me! I am dragonforged, and your kind shall pay for your atrocities!" Hardly slowed by the ectoplasmic residuum engulfing him, the drahken charged.
You are misguided, tall one, sent Valverinox. The illithid drew his hand close to his tentacled face and "blew". A small stream of sparks crossed the intervening distance faster than the Drahken could, igniting when it touched the ectoplasm covering his body. The very flammable ectoplasm.
Valverinox calmly stepped aside as the immolated drahken cried out in death, leaving the corpse to burn in his office.
He tossed a small emblem into the burgeoning inferno -- A brain with black tentacles wrapped around humanoid hands engraved onto an ivory medallion.
Hulna. The blasted deity had brought nothing but death and strife to Valverinox's people. First the complete and utter failure to protect against the stormcloud and his hooded naga consort. Then, if the memories he'd wrested from some of the dead drahken were accurate, had failed to contain a costly slave rebellion, further splintering nihilian society. And now, Hulna's insiduous whispers to rise up, and strike 'back' against the very Eladrin who had saved them from Despair, given them servants, food, opulent dwellings, and a privileged position within society!
And by the looks of it, even that had failed; the Nihillians had nothing to show for their sudden war -- their illithid forces were sealed within the tunnels of the earth, their slaves dispersed and unbound.
Finally, Valverinox arrived -- Lord Imbrel's private shrine to Lady Syreene and Lord Sonnet. The High Lord of the Court was out assassinating his enemies under the guise of the war, no doubt, so it was fully empty.
The mindflayer approached the statue -- that of an androgynous eladrin, one hand carring a flute, the other a small sapling -- and settled himself before it. Valverinox had never prayed to anyone other than Hulna, so he was not quite sure what to do. He settled for meditation, thinking over his fervant desire for a new way for his people.
-1 PP Guide -- The remaining mindflayers of the warped court (As Thought has indicated, there are very few of them left) forsake Hulna in favor of Syreene|Sonnet.
-2 PP Denourish -- The Hooded Society (Was that the right name?) is uncovered and summarily dismantled from the body of the Warped Court as the fighting begins and abruptly ends. No chances are taken. Any cultists of Hulna and the mindflayers they psychically controlled are slain without a chance at redemption. The organization still exists, it simply no longer has any presence within the court.
9/9 + 0/3
Schi'vya appeared in a forest full of strange-looking trees. They all waved silently, but have an almost divine essence to them. She became a little disgusted by the appearance of the trees. "Ugghhh... what horrible-looking trees! I wonder why I didn't notice such atrocity.." She gathered up the winds and flung them through the trees, untwisting the trees and giving them more sustained energy. She then blew some rocks out of the way and placed a divine marker in the middle of the forest-- a type of symbol of constantly shifting runes of fire and light. Schi'vya smiled and clapped her hands. "Well, that should do it."
--Godspire--
The lead Earth Elemental walked it way up and across the towering spire of rock. The other elementals followed closely behind. they crossed by many holes that led deep inside the inner workings of this large column. The elementals looked forward (up) and ddly enough, they saw a faint glimmer of land and sea on the other side, though it was shrouded by a light mist. They looked back (down) to see the same. They may have reached the center. Evidently, they had found several large caverns, and they decided to stop by a small cave, which didn't go very far.
"Well, this is one odd structure." One of the water elementals inquired.
The earth elemental chuckled. "I'll say. I've never actually known where this leads, but I doubt we'll be able to tell what's going on at home." It pointed out the faint outline of the Triskelion-- shrouded by the clouds.
--Astral Winds--
'Ahhh... It is good to see that my children are doing well here.' Schi'vya arrived in the plane in a light whirlwind. She had barely recognized the landscape, but can easily remember the colosseum. 'Ah, yes.' She flew down to the flourishing nation by the large lake and landed on the tall grass with a soft thump. She stod up from the tall grass and undergone a surprising transformation. She was no longer a mass of wind, water, earth, or fire. Her divine sword had become smaller, and she herself had become smaller as well. She had also taken the form of a fleshling humanoid-- resembling that of the virago back at the New World. She had a long robe with a light, violet dress underneath. She also carried a long walking stick with small shapes of fire, earth, water and air floating around the top. She had long, bright blonde hair that stretched halfway down her back. She had a beautifully striking face, and she has bright blue eyes.
She walked through the grass and pushed it all to the side with the wind currents-- one characteristic that did not change. A group of several air elementals started to run through the tall grass in search of something. They saw the lady in the blue robe and stopped in place. They became greatly perplexed. One of them gathered the courage to speak to the unknown figure. "Umm... excuse me, but did you see something fall out from the sky and into the fields here?"
The lady smirked. "Why yes, of course. You need not be afraid, my children. You must know who I am, do you not?"
The elementals looked at each other. "I'm sorry? I'm not sure I recognize you..."
The lady swung her hand across the air, and a huge torrent of wind circled around her form-- turning it into a barely visible visage of Schi'vya in her true form in front of the lady. She waved her hand across once again and the winds died down. The visage disappeared.
The elementals gawked in amazement. "My... milady. We are most honored to see you again. Forgive my ignorance..." The elementals bowed in respect.
"I accept your apology." The lady nodded. "Now, how is this village of yours faring?"
5PP -- Ascend Avatar (Lady of the Winds): Schi'vya's alternate persona, she uses this every time she enters the Astral Winds planar realm. When she's ready to return to the realm of the gods, she reverts back to her true form. She still has control over all four elements, but has special proficiencies with the element of Wind itself.
Arbitration: 1pp
Combat: 1pp
Divine: 0pp
Genesis: 1pp
"There they are! Keep after them!"
A band of Drahken and freed Nihilian slaves were stalking a Warped Court bookkeeper, a broker, and a clerk. They were mindflayers, of course, and strictly unfamiliar with the rigors of fighting. Hence, they were fleeing for their lives.
A bronze-scaled dragonforged insurgent erupted through the underbrush, tackling the clerk, and bringing him down hard on his back. No! Please! I'm just--. The bookkeeper and the broker tried to increase their speed as the death-gurgle of the clerk came hauntingly towards them.
A flurry of arrows and spears tore the bookkeeper from his escape, and the remaining mindflayer could only wince as it happened. He took two steps further before his elegant silk robe caught on a low branch, sending the minor noble scrabbling face-first into the dirt. The pursuit of the Drahken slowed as the combatants formed a grim circle of smiles around the helpless broker.
What do you want from us?! cried the broker, piteously.
"We want you to die for your crimes against the world, mindscum."
The leader of this band straddled the prone illithid, weapon raised high. "Now die!"
But he paused, as the forest shook with his proclamation. A fell keening, like that of wind over shaped stone, erupted throughout the forest, even though there was no wind. Dobbits and Eroes alike fled in a sudden turbulence of fur and feathers. And then the ground began to shake.
Shafts of golden-green light pierced up from the ground as phantasmal, wraith-like figures ascended into the forest proper, the furious visages of these primal spirits twisted in anger. For too long they had remained quiescent. The mindflayers of the Warped Court had been living there for generations -- they were as much a part of the forest as anyone else, and just as deserving of the protections of the primal spirits.
Golden-green light flooded the area, and when the broker finally opened his eyes, the drahken, the other slaves, were simply gone. In a panic, he continued his flight, towards one of the still-standing Archfey manors deeper within the woods.
-2 PP Found Nation -- The Risen Court: The primal spirits, those Archfey not in the Warped Court, and the Wygrove Confederacy join together to form the Risen Court. They are bitter rivals of the Warped Court, but value the sanctity of the triskelion over their petty rivalry -- they may not agree with the actions of their rivals, but the feel that the only one who should taken action against them, is themselves.
-1 PP Guide Organization -- As the number of fronts they are fighting on roughly doubles, the Dragon Corps are forced to retreat outside the Triskelion proper, to the north-east edge of the mountain to reassess and better ascertain the situation.
My apologies for the long post. There was a lot to cover.
As Schi'vya left, the Mark he had left began to pulse softly, keeping the forest quiet... or at least most of it.
The nearest tree to the Mark was a large, ancient tree, with bark so white that it appeared nearly petrified, although it was truly alive. And even if it had not been alive, the exarch within it surely was. The Reaper, bound in silent exile deep within the bark, turned as far as she was able at the feel of the new magic, and, gripping it like a lifeline, she cast her perception outwards, feeling the pulsing energy of the Mark. Grinning, she tugged the Mark, bringing it so that it actually touched her prison, and attempted to use it to break open the bark that held her.
No luck. Frustrated, she grabbed hold of another connection that she had long left dormant, tugging it. Somewhere else, Spark would suddenly feel exausted, his energy used up in an instant, draining down hidden channels connecting the two exarchs to one another. With this added energy, she set to work on the Rune, delving into it and subtly tweaking its effects. Now, instead of merely keeping the forest safe, it would call mortals into the forest to explore its depths. Inward they would be called, the pull growing stronger and stronger the closer they got to the Mark, and, indirectly, her tree. It was her hope that eventually some mortal would choose to bring an axe to the mighty wood, and in doing so free her from her captivity of... months? years? It was hard to say.
But the Reaper was not only connected to Spark, and in utilizing her connection to the Exarch, she also released a hidden flow of power from one of the draughts of the Elixir of Creation she had taken long ago. This power flowed through her mind, sensing her inner turmoil, and vanished through the wood of the tree into the forest beyond.
Soon, reports of beautiful women living in the forest began to trickle out into the surrounding regions. Some human, some Naga, people traveling in the forest began to spot them, forced to gaze upon their beauty by some supernatural force.
For many, the encounters ended like that... a beautiful vision in the woods. For some, though, things progressed far further. Hunters reported stumbling on the dried husks of men, all life drained from their forms, and most in some state of undress.
And within the forest, the Succubi began to grow in numbers as their needs were met by those that met their fancy.
And beneath it all, the roots of the Petrified Tree spread, surpassing the boundaries of the Forest of Flesh and penetrating into the Triskelion, the Valley and the Soulshard Nation.
~Itja-Rek's Laboratory~
In the secret plane-within-a-plane located behind the Throne of Itja-Rek, the trapped souls, gathered over milennia by the God had found ways to communicate with each other, reaching out with tenative mental tendrils to talk. Slowly, these connections grew in number, each one talking to a myriad of other minds at once, until one night, long after Mani had passed, a sudden thought, uncreated by any individual mind, flowed across the web.
"Who... Am... I?"
~The Mushroom Forest~
The Monarch was nowhere to be found. In anger, Itja-Rek stalked through another Mish village, ripping souls from the tree-like beings left and right and leaving them lying on the ground for the Shepherds to eventually come and find. He did not care.
"Monarch! I demand to know the reasons for your trickery!" He shouted to the heavens. If his once-betrothed cared about her children, she would arrive soon.
2 PP (1 from Spark): Modify Artifact: The Mark of Protection is subtly altered to become a Mark of Summoning. The forest is still quiescent, but mortals feel a strange compulsion to explore its dark depths, especially the petrified tree that was Marked.
2 PP (1 from the Distillery): Spawn Beast (paragon): Succubi appear in the Forest of Flesh, all too happy to take advantage of unsuspecting explorers. They mostly appear to be beautiful women/naga in the image of the Reaper... in her better years.
1 PP (from Reaper): Nourish Land: The roots of the petrified tree now extend far beyond the boundaries of the forest
5 PP: Ascend Avatar: Flickers of a combined conciousness begin to appear in Itja-Rek's soul-storage.
1 PP: Denourish Populace: The Mish find themselves in trouble... the sort of trouble that comes about from people's souls being ripped from their bodies.
1/9 +0/3
The Lady of the Winds was led to a small settlement below the colosseum, as it floated eerily above the lake. The rocks that connected to the structure seemed to slowly waltz their way around in circles-- sometimes harmlessly bumping into each other. The village was very neat, and it offered sanctuary to the people that lived here.
Just before she could speak, an utter disconnection rang about her soul. Few souls have left her prayers and have gone somewhere else. Something happened, and that wasn't the bad part. She also felt a sort of wall that blocked the entrance directly to the nation itself. She would have to go around and out into the void, but such implication is risky. She could very well end up somewhere in the deep void and would have to travel an enormous distance just to get back to the New World. What ever was happening though, something must be done. And fast.
The Lady of the Winds quickly tapped on the villager's shoulder. "I'm sorry, but if you'll excuse me for a moment, I have something to see to. I hope to be back soon." The lady quickly ran back into the tall grass, and almost instantly changed back into her godly form-- carrying her sword of the four winds. 'I feel danger up ahead. Savos. Use this to defend yourself.' She heard the voice echo in her mind once again.
--Astral Sea--
A web of rock spread out below her, but she wasn't here for long. She appeared from the ring of rocks and oddly shaped planets in the endless ocean of light and stars. She darted out in a single direction, breaking the barrier of interplanar travel and reappearing...
--The Void--
... back into the void. She saw, to her amazement, the new world in front of her. It felt a little different than last time, but not much has changed physically. She spotted the opening to the world and flew in through the gaping hole of the waterway.
--Ordained Chaos--
The serpents floated overhead the mass of calamity that occured below. A single command blew through them at once, and were called to Schi'vya's side at once. They disappeared in flashes of light, as they felt a sudden disconnection from some of the people in her home. Someone or something has tipped the balance of the Triskelion nation, and they were called to action.
--Triskelion; Soulshard Nation--
"Why? Why would it come to this?"
"It's the end of our journey! We must seek sanctuary with this other deity!"
"ENOUGH!!!" Schi'vya blew through the center of the nation in a flurry of wind. She was even more angry than before. "Who told you you could not pray to thee anymore? Who was it that offered you sanctuary in times of greater turmoil?"
The people were stunned and surprised by her sudden outburst.
Draekan walked out and spoke to her as calmly as he could. "I tried to stop them, but they insisted that this 'other deity' is the true wind god."
At this point, the roiling heat flared even more. "WWWWWWWHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!!!???" The elements within her roared to life, as the fire boiled the water, and the rocks melted in the heat. The winds furiously hovering about her. "Tell me-- who is this 'other?' "
Draekan had a slight hunch. "He claims himself to be called... Agrilnost."
"Agrilnost?" She became confused. "I've never heard of such name in my time here."
At this point, the serpents came down and situated themselves beside the pillar of rock that covered the entrance to the Astral Winds. Sephan, Dorith, and Tarranat finally came to her distress. "What is it that ails you, mylord?"
Schi'vya raised an eye. "Someone must be up to something... maybe..." She vaguely remembers that god of waters. 'What was his name? Did his exarch tell me his master's name?' "I don't know who exactly, but we're gonna give this wind hooligan what it means to be a 'true' lord of the winds!"
The serpents spoke in unison to Schi'vya. "What is thy bidding, my master?"
She smirked. "Have you ever grasped the concept of combat before?"
The serpents looked at each other. One of them spoke. "We have neither fought nor tried to fight in ages. We have fought once, but that was many legions ago."
"Good. Well, I'm gonna need whatever combat skills you remember and help put this wind imposter into his misery." 'Whoever you are, lord of waters, you have just crossed the line way too far...' Not even noticing the change to her mark that she had placed in the forest of the strange trees (or not even bothering to care about it), Schi'vya held her sword high up. "I have a debt to pay, and that starts with this imposter's punishment!"
~Above the Soulshard Nation~
Schi'vya's cry carried far, but up above where Agrilnost watched it was overwhelmed by the thunder of a hundred lightning bolts streaking from sky to stone. It felt good to him to have mortals pray for his deliverance, though he was not entirely sure he'd grant it. After all, what were these mortals when compared to him? What good was such fleeting life?
"Are you enjoying yourself, father of storms?" the dark form of Despair asked.
One of Agrilnost's heads descended from the clouds and watched as the haze of the other exarch approached. "This is... pleasant."
"And your new master, do you find him likewise pleasant?" Despair's question was met with silence. "Strange, isn't it, to find one's self bound without consent, without even desire."
"I will endure it, for now."
"I've endured for quite some time. It does not get any better."
"When this... Schi'vya person is dealt with, I will have no more to do with him."
"You are kind, given that he has already wronged you. You are mighty to behold, yet you will make yourself subservient to another?"
Lightning licked along Agrilnost’s mouth as he snarled. "And what would you have? He held me at bay by whim. I will deal with him when I figure out how, but until then..."
"Until then you have me. Let us strike when he is distracted; together, we can kill him and the usurper together and be free."
"That does sound... pleasant."
After a moment of further conversation, Agrilnost left for the Caverns of Davos and Despair went below.
~Caverns of Davos: Forge of the Gods~
Kesh hid in the lava that flowed near the anvil, lurking in the magma next to Aramorg. The cavern was silent except for their own thoughts and the sound of water dripping, forming stalagmites and stalactites slowly.
"What think you of this Harkon person?" the fire asked the earth.
"He seems... a bit eager. I think he's been waiting for something like this to happen for a long time, and he has forgotten that it is all a bit much for us to take in."
The fire glowed in agreement and lapsed into silence. It was Aramorg who broke that peace. "Kesh is a nice name."
Kesh took on a warm orange tint at the compliment. "Thank you."
"Are you truly willing to give up yourself so easily?"
"I'm not really who I think I am, so I didn't give up much."
"Yet you only have the word of an untested god to prove that."
"True, I could doubt him. But I have no reason to do so, just as I have no reason to trust him. Regardless, I would rather be my own person than what others tell me. Don't you?"
"I suppose."
"Then you should choose your own name."
"I should?"
"Yes. Aramorg is the name of doubt, of servitude to others. I may work with this Harkon as Kesh, but Kesh is not his minion. We will be equals, or I will have naught to do with him."
"..."
Again they lapsed into silence. For long hours they waited.
"Agog," the earth said.
"What?"
"Call me Agog."
The air in that place began to stir and Agrilnost entered.
The group of adventuring elementals found sanctuary in a small cave that didn't go very far. They stayed within for the night, as Mani rose high and filled some of the cavern with its light. "The moon is unusually bright at this time... whatever a moon is..." One of the fire elementals inquired.
"Hmm, yes. I think we may have gotten closer to it. Or it may have come closer to us." The earth elemental responded.
"Now what?" A water sat near the others.
"We sleep, then continue on to the other side by light."
The Mish screamed as the monster passed through, ripping out their very essences and leaving them scattered on the ground. Here and there, their simple huts exploded in flames as the monster pointed at them, cascading flames on the families who hid within, their topiary-skin bursting into aromatic fires and their sap popping in the flames, splattering those who rushed in to save them with sticky globs of fire.
Where was their creator? Why did she not hear them? From where they hid, the Mish cried out silently for protection. Would they be heard?
1 PP: Denourish Populace: The Mish are Burning! Oh the Topianity!
Holding his work up, he looked at it in the light, and frowned. "Hm, haven't got the kinks worked out yet. I suppose I'll get this stupid thing fixed eventually. Used to do all kinds of useful things, but since I got here it refuses to work at all."
Shrugging, he dropped it back into his pocket and began scribbling on the ground, outlining a small circle on the ground as he slowly walks in a circle, chattering all the way. "Anyways, you mentioned something about a thing I would be interested in? What sort of thing is what? And how might I be of assistance? It is about time someone recognized that I'm good for more than just abandoning mid conversation or laughing at like I'm insane. Not that I'm saying I'm not now, because I'm not sure. I always figured that only the insane would be one hundred percent sure they were sane. After all, a sane person would be willing to admit the possibility that they were insane and simply suffering a delusion."
STanding back from his handy work, he lifted his hat off and reached inside, jerking out a cane. Form with a dark reddish wood, tipped on the bottom with a pointed metal tip and the top with metal ball, he gripped it firmly and tapped it to the edge of the circle. "Never go anywhere without a good sturdy cane, my grandfather always said. Handy to lean on, good for touching dangerous things, and pretty nasty when swung hard at somebody's head."
The circle began to glow slightly, opening a silver gateway into the void beyond. Shivering, Aaviz frowned. "Never get used to that, you know. Not matter how many times I see it, it still gives me the quivers."
Holding out his hand, he fired a single beam of golden energy into it, then turned away. Slamming his staff into the ground , he leaned against it and grinned at the visiting god. "Now then, what was it you were saying you needed?"
4 PP - Ascend Exarch - Unnamed (Arbitration)
1/9 + 2/2
Completely unaware of his current condition or for the fact that he had turned himself into a tiny ring and was now in with other treasures in a trilobite community, Astriluxus continues to rest peacefully after being tossed around time-space so rudely. If anyone else had noticed a blinking dragon just popping in and out at random times and places, then just disappearing is currently unknown at this time.
The Mish fled. Displaced from their homes by the unrelenting ravages of the Dark One, the remaining Topiary-people grabbed what they could and scattered, finding their way to other centers of population and attempting desparately to assimilate and blend in to hide from their divine foe.
Furious that The Monarch had not appeared, Ijta-Rek turned his malevolent gaze onto the largest thing around. The Egg Tree.
~Boundary Between The Triskelion and Pillar portions of the Supercontinent~
"No no, look here." said Angelique, pointing vigorously at the long seam of rock that ran under their feet. "This stuff on the right is completely different from the stuff on the left. The stuff on the right is... different somehow. It seems older, more weathered."
"But what would that mean?" Asked another one of the Bahenet, staring quizically down at the rocks that had become the obsession of Angelique in her 4-souled stage of life.
"That... I have no idea." Angelique muttered. "But it means something BIG."
~Boundaries of the Forest of Flesh (and beyond)~
The roots that had been growing from the tree sprang upwards, emerging from the earth as bone-white as the original tree itself. Only about a foot tall, the roots would not have caused many to look twice, but around the roots, lush grass rolled away from the wood, transforming the areas into idyllic camping spots. But woe to any who lay down to rest in this grass, for when they were asleep, the grass would work its way into their skin and siphon away their souls, transferring them to the root in a shimmering trail of phosphorescence upon which the root would send it back to the main tree. High up on the tree, a single bud appeared and blossomed a vibrant red flower. And within, The Reaper smiled as she felt power beginning to flow back into her spirit
What lie within this gate, was hard to discribe, but then something moved through it into this world. A giant sphere, more the a mile in diameter, made up entirely of the slithering coils of hundreds of giant eel-like creatures.
One the entity was through, the maw close again.
Their, above what appeared to be a swamp, the sphere remained for some time, hovering and observing.
~The Floating Continent~
Armal willed a watery walkway to arise from the ground and motioned for the other god to follow along side. The two strolled along (Aaviz quiet dryly) the path as it gently lifted away from the underside of the island and wound back around to pass by the portal to the void that the god had opened. It twisted until the two were more or less right side up, at least in comparison to the land around them.
"Perhaps there is more to them than not being who they think they are, but they aren't the original versions as they think either. For those three it wasn't as intentional, but I have given life to a mere memory before. That was the darker four armed one. Perhaps the mind of the original being is still out there, but it was a memory, water's memory, that was given a second chance."
The serpent drew one of his limbs up and willed a mist to rise from it, forming the scene of how he and Aaviz first met, at least, from his own memory. "If I was to give this memory of you independent life, would it be you? Or since it is my memory, would it be me? Or perhaps somewhere in between?"
"As for the thing you might be interested in, it was the object I just had those memories cart away; the great seal, I call it. Are you familiar with the concept of a water pump? It functions on the same basic principle, but with elemental energy rather than water. In this particular case, I am using it to hinder the efforts of a rather hostile god, but I hope this will be short lived and it can be put to a more productive use soon. I suppose I am a bit better at creating things for destructive purposes than constructive ones; so often it seems like one has to clear out the weeds before one can plant a garden. A little help making something constructive, something good come of this would be most appreciated."
The watery avatar stopped for a moment in front of the portal to the void. "By the way, might I ask who your grandfather was?"
The pathway of water continued onwards, and if Aaviz took it, would eventually lead to the godspire.
~The Soulshard Nation~
"Ah, Lady Schi'vya, a pleasure to see you again." The words came creeping over the land like a morning mist. As a gentle breeze might blow in smoke from elsewhere, so over a few moments the fog of Despair was blown in and formed into his usual visage.
"There is an old saying that might prove wise council at this turn of events. It is said that 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend.' This Agrilnost might prove a better ally than a distraction, at least for now. Look, even now things are clearing up."
The exarch spoke truly; the god-storm was departing from those lands. "My master, Harkon Armal, was hoping to use him to goad you into a fight. There are... other plans in place to further anger you, if he is not enough. My master believes that if you attack, even with what aid you might muster, he can catch you in a trap. Harkon has many servants, enough to deal with your own and prevent you from fleeing once the trap has been sprung. But he is unaware that we servants wish only to further order in this world, not the chaos that his unstableness is producing. If and when you spring the trap, Harkon will find it going the opposite direction of which he intends. Now you can deal with Agrilnost now, but in doing so you will lose an ally who desires to help you against my master. After Harkon is dealt with, you will be able to address the matter of titles at your leisure."
"What!?!"
Just as Itja-Rek had turned his gaze towards the tree, a sound like tearing fabric occured behind him. Wheeling about, he saw A massive sphere rolling out of a tear in the sky. Upwards and upwards he looked, but the black orb kept going.
And it moved. What Itja-Rek had at first taken to be ripples on its surface proved to be roiling masses of eels.
His mouth agape, Itja-Rek backed away from the sphere as it continued passing through. The vast, VAST majority of his souls were in agreement on the proper thing to do in this situation... one which they had never before encountered but somehow primally knew to do: Run away from the mile-wide eel-sphere. But Itja-Rek refused, standing his ground and shouting.
"Who brings this into the world? Show yourself!"
At the reappearance of Despair, Schi'vya nodded at his inquiry. "I see. So, I guess it is a way to cause the trap to backfire, eh?"
Immediately behind the great orb, something tiny slipped out even as the maw closed. Infantasmally small by comparison, and dropped directly into plants below, disapearing from sight.
Even as Itja-Rek watched the orb, every insect in the vacinity began to go crazy, those that flew swarming about wildly, as though maddened, those that made noise sounding as though a great alert, first all of them at random, and then patterns began to emerge.
First, the sounds slowly joined together until every noise-making insect was sounding in unison, and silencing in unison, and then the swarming insects began to move less randomly, separate entities joining together and moving in complex patterns together, until every insect near by had joined in a strange unison.
The flying swarms massed around the ball, many being devoured by snapping eels while others still flew on. Those that couldn't fly massed on tree and limb, as though reaching to join with the flying swarms, some even attempting to climb the watching god.
"ANd you might ask, but I cannot answer. I don't remember at the moment. And when I do remember, I often remember conflicting memories."
"In essence," Despair replied to Schi'vya. "It is said that the best way to avoid a trap is to set it off on your own terms."
~The Floating Continent~
"Fair enough," Armal said to Aaviz. He paused for a moment before asking, "What about your grandmother? Or did you even have one of those?"
"And that was my point... at least, I think it was. The memories might be a part of you, but they are not you because they are also a part of me. You are not me, at least I am fairly sure you're not. The memory is you, but it is not you. Thus, those creatures are who they think they are, and at the same time, not."
He paused and looked down the watery path. "I think I will be needed soonish in the inside of the world. Care to travel with, or shall we part ways again for now?"
For the second time in as many minutes, Itja-Rek felt... concerned. No sooner had he addressed the sphere when the forest around him burst into a million chittering voices as the insects went mad! The forest grew thick with them, leaping from mushroom to mushroom, all flocking to a massive swarm... no, make that several massive swarms, flying around the massive orb.
He felt a tickling feeling and looked downwards. The ground at his feet had become a carpet of bugs, some of which were even now striving to climb HIM!
Shaking his feet, he began rising from the earth, stopping the pests from climbing directly onto him. However, it didn't stop the bugs who, seeing that he was now closer to the swarm than they were, were actually leaping from the mushrooms onto him.
Not knowing what else to do, Itja-Rek continued to rise, flailing madly at the bugs in a vain attempt to get them off of him.
"And who's to say I'm not you and you aren't me? For all either of us knows, one could be a delusional hallucination by the other, yes? Only the insane wouldn't be absolutely confident otherwise? Indeed, for all we know, we could all simply be aspects of the same person, different parts of it's personality battling for supremacy within the subconscious mind?"
Shrugging again, he nodded. "I have little better to do. May as well go with you."
Making his way slowly up the godspire, Pollux was still making progress. Crossing cravases, and burning rivers, the way wasn't with out its perils. Slowly but surely he finally made his way into the lower(upper?) reaches of the Caverns of Davros.
Somewhere in the Hive~
Something starts to jingle like its trying to move. Something is awakening.
What an odd sort of thought to think. Odd for anyone else, I suppose. For me, lying on my back in an open field, watching heavy clouds release big, fat snowflakes that swirled through the intervening air, it was barely a curious idea. For few could deny that the flecks of white seemed to any who bothered to look to be pieces of the sky drifting down to home. It might make you feel infinitesimally small. Me, I just feel cold. Wrapping my arms around myself, I realize that they are bare. That explains the cold. I turn my face to gaze upon the hand returning to lie upon the frosted grass. Flakes land upon it, melting into water from the heat of my body. Bare hands. Bare arms. But I'm not naked.
No, my torso and legs seem reasonably insulated. I shift the latter and feel folds of fabric rustle around them. My hands travel to my waist and then up my body, feeling the embroidered bodice. My left index finger traces the outline of a bird sewn there. It feels familiar, like a half-forgotten memory. But it feels foreign too, like it's not my memory. I push it out of my mind. I force myself into a sitting position and take a look around myself.
I feel like some sort of ice princess in this palace of snow. I realize my dress is white. The precise shade of the snow now falling fast upon the ground. And there's trees too, looking for all the world like elegant sculptures not weighed down by the snow, but rather proudly displaying it as a beautiful women would display diamonds. I am struck by the beauty of it all.
I use my hand to push myself to my feet and turn. I gaze down at where I rested moments before. The snow has held my shape. A beautiful angel marred by a single handprint, and suddenly I recall something...
Water always remembers...
Gazing down at the snow, holding so closely to its form, one can hardly argue that. But still, one more thought for the odd. And suddenly I have to leave this place. I turn, and march away, and for a moment, my mind lingers. It lingers on a traveller, arriving here perhaps very soon, perhaps after a long journey, coming across this palace of snow, stopping to marvel at the beauty of this place. And perhaps looking upon the angel broken by a handprint and wondering who could have left it. But that traveller has not yet come, that story not yet begun. My own story is steadily falling, and I must be hastening. Like snowflakes on open skin, I am not long for this place. With a swish of my dress I am off.
Insects fell from Itja-Rek in droves as he flailed them away, eventually turning to other modes of trying to join the growing swarms as the god rose out of their reach. The complex patterns of movement and sound continued longer, the sounds themselves slowly changing until after a great while the thrumming, buzzing, chirping mass repeated Itja-Rek to himself as though guided by some alien conscience.
"What?! Who brings this into the world? Show yourself!"
Moments later, the swarm scattered the phrases, repeating bits and pieces at random, the continuous noises forming words at random around the god as he floated.
"What?!"
"Brings show who?"
"What this world?"
"Show yourself!"
The countless voices continued to join together, mimicking the frightened god as the insects massed farther, the swarm beginning to blot the light out and the ground growing entirely dark with them.
The massing insects then began to swarm over each other, into giant clumps, rough imitations of Itja-Rek's shape hovering in the air or piling up on the ground before collapsing under their own weight or being scattered by the winds. Or worse yet, snapped up by the massive dragon-like eels that made up the incredibly large orb.
Just to get this out of the way, since the gods are basically siblings at this point...
3pp Create Pantheon: Hirudi and The Seven are going to share head of the pantheon to be known as "The many".
Also:
1pp to Hirudi for a Spawn action.
3pp Remain
The orb remained stationary, as several heads took notice of the god trying to get away from the swarms of insects crawling around below.
Suddenly, the top half of the orb started to shift around and opening up, revealing that all the eels were actually connected to the lower half of a central entity, revealing her true form.
She then looks at the deity, proclaiming: "Do not be frightened. This world will serve the genesis of something greater"
At that point, several heads at the bottom of the orb, after nourishing on the insects, started to disgorge hundreds of draconic eellike creatures. These spawn would crawl around in large groups. In this form, the spawn would do nothing but eating and multiply.
The spawn also entered a second stage in their life cycle, in which they morph into an airborn variant. This form possessed 2 pair of batlike wings and multiple and 3 pair of limbs, giving them a more insectlike appearance. In this stage they would flock around in huge swarms, similar to locusts or bees.
Extremely aggressive, these swarms acompany the crawling masses and attack anything that comes to close, defending the crawling spawn to death. Their kills, aswell as any of their own dead would just be consumed by the slithering mass, food for the next generation.
Several of these spawn started to diverse into the Mushroom Forest
ascent exarch (genesis) 4pp: the eels that make up hirudi's tails and the giant orb now function as a genesis exarch
spawn monster (greater) 2pp + 1pp from the seven: create Spawn of Hirudi
Itja-Rek breathed a sigh of relief as the bugs fell from his form, and watched in facination as they swarmed together, forming crude facimilies of his own form, insects approximating souls that wound up and around a central form.
But these forms could not last. They would say a few words in a cryptic parody of his own voice, and then dissappate to the winds. His fear mostly gone now, Itja-Rek floated closer to the massing insects, and was about to reach out a hand into the flying swarms when suddenly a voice, deep and booming, swept over him, coming from the orb of eels. Itja-Rek looked upwards, and spotted the face of the god looking down at him. A wave of distrust swept over him. Something in her words did not sound... friendly.
"Greetings. I am Itja-Rek. Who would you be? And what would this world be the genesis of? For that matter, where do you come from? You nearly look like a god of Culthet, alhough were that so, I would know you."
This god reminds me somewhat of Davos... although where he was worms, this one is eels. Curious. He thought to himself.
Deep within the god, a subtle change was taking place, orchestrated by some of his most ancient, most distrustful souls that still remembered the chaos and treachery that had ruled in Culthet. Under their direction, a handful of the god's souls began to change, solidifying into something which looked very much like a dagger, but, if stuck into a foe, would release the anguish of the trapped souls of Itja-Rek's form into the enemy, causing untold amounts of damage.
But to the outside eye, nothing changed, merely a few ripples along the leg of the god revealed the work going on within.
~The Hive~
All of a sudden, Son-of-Speaker-to-Trilobites burst out in a loud voice. "They are coming! Remember your promise to us. The City comes!"
And sure enough, beyond the Hive, the great bulk of The City rose from the ocean depths, water sloughing from its fungal buildings as Bryofita separated themselves from the main mass and began organizing in the streets. A booming voice sounded in the heads of the Trilobites, and in the minds of anyone else nearby.
"YOU HAVE SOMETHING OF MINE. I HAVE COME BACK TO CLAIM MY WAYWARD SELVES."
~Wenet~
A leak had developed in the system that routed the souls from the Altar of Initiation to the Distillery, and some of the draught of creation had managed to slip down the channels and pool beneath the altar itself. When next the Bahenet came to drain their Soul Repositories and do the Initiations of several young Bahenet children, the power reacted with the souls violently, overtaking the small party and changing them horribly. Where once had stood Bahenet, now stood something else. Their faces twisted and bent, with tentacles drooping from their mouths, they grew taller, some reaching nearly eight feet in height, more gaunt than lithe, they looked at one another in despair as their skin grew gray and clammy and their fingers developed strange suction-cup like growths at their ends.
And then the hunger struck. Smelling something that drew them like sweetest ambrosia, their eyes came to rest on three unemptied soul repositories. As one, the band of twelve or so lunged for the boxes, draining them of their souls. As they did so, their eyes began to burn with a new light, and they gained strength. They then rose, and began making their way south along the Rimward mountains, searching for a way across and into the lands of the souled.
4 PP: Create Artifact: The Blade of Anguish: Combat Artifact for Itja-Rek that is made of solidified souls.
3 PP (1 from Distillery): The SoulSuckers: Like Mindflayers, they live off of not the flesh of their prey, but the souls themselves. Twisted memories of Bahenet, they stalk the world, striking out and draining the souls of any whom they catch.
1/9 + 1/3 remaining.
Syreene|Sonnet had been meditating at the apex of the Triskelion for quite some time. The weeks of introspection had left moss and grasses growing from their arms and legs, and frosty icicles dripping from their ears, nose, and chin.
They had no more will to go on. This place had been wondrous, and yet, had left the god strangely empty. They did not belong here, not truly. They were not of here. The otherness beyond the veil called to them.
The cross-legged figure seemed to sigh, barely rustling the dangling aeroponic plants. The burning anger that had consumed her early had ebbed, leaving not a cold hatred, but an empty hollowness itself. What right did they have to jealousy?
They were alone, yet lonely. Lazy, yet listless. What did they have holding them back? This entire ordeal had been a curious departure -- an impulsive experiment, and nothing more. They thought of the Season's Heralds, the forgotten Kyrion, and Malice. The former were largely autonomous, and the middling had never known their hand in their birth. Only the latter lived in honor of their will, and even that had already burned down. What purpose was there in an arbitrary and unjust vengeance? Malice... Malice would have to be removed. Everything else would be fine without them. They daren't leave an unbound exarch of spite roaming free.
So they were decided. Remove that one from play, and depart... for elsewhere. There was, after all, no reason to remain.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
~The Tomb~
Malice grinned at the crumpled wreckage of the Soul-Distillery. She could hardly wait to see the look on The Reaper's face, the real Reaper's face, when she returned to find her source of bliss mangled and un-wrought.
She was still cackling gleefully when her form simply exploded, a flash of red divinity darting from The Tomb.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
~Lord Imbrel's Manor, The Warped Court, The Triskelion~
Valverinox's meditations were abruptly interrupted as a flash of red energy erupted somewhere in the sky. The piercing crimson light burned through the illithid's already shut eyes, scouring them with a sharp pain.
The clerk collapsed, slowly struggling to the window. The first thing he noticed was the Triskelion -- the summit had been entirely transformed; an obsidian spire now appeared where for as long as he could remember had been naught but open space. Valverinox's second shock was when he caught sight of himself in the reflected light of the window. His skin had become like bronze, and for the first time his hunger was gone, his innate inclination for brains and brainmoss extinguished swiftly, and utterly.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
~Lord Star and Lynne Moon's Private Quarters, Starwatcher's Keep, The Triskelion~
Lord Star stiffened in his fine bed, and he felt his wife do the same. Wordlessly they turned to one another.
Lynne Moon shuddered. "Then what now?"
Lord Star was silent for a long time. "I suppose we continue as we always have. And do as we have always done."
Lynne Moon snuggled closer to her husband, resting her head on his chest. He idly stroked her hair, but his gaze wandered towards his window, to the great starry sky beyond. "Perhaps some day we will follow them."
He pulled the sheets tighter around them both, and Lynne Moon barely heard his voice over the rustling of the bedding. "And maybe one day they will come back." Yet as Lynne Moon heard it and Lord Star whispered it, both knew it to be foolish idealism. For good or ill, the world had changed this night.
-4 PP -- Modify Artifact: The Soul-Distillery. Sabotaged and broken. No longer accepts souls, and sacrificed souls themselves merely pool about the tarnished metal harmlessly. IMPORTANT: Can now induce bliss without a deposit of souls. Creatures (or exarchs) who discover this are unlikely to leave, slowly starving to death while enjoying the unending bliss of Itja-Rek's essence.
-0 PP -- Deascend Exarch: Malice
-2 PP -- Create Template: Those Mindflayers loyal to the Warped Court become Mindweavers instead. Mindweavers resembled bronze-scaled illithids who are neither slimy, dark, gloomy, or brain-eating-y. They retain their powerful psionics, have no need to feast on brains or brain moss, and have their empathetic psionics magnified. The strongest of the Mindweaver empaths can heal others by taking their wounds upon themselves, which heal quickly on their psionically charged bodies.
-1 PP Mold Land -- The flat summit of the Triskelion becomes a hollow obsidian spire, dubbed the Shrine of Harmony. You can enter it through one of several cave entrances near the top; inside is a vast, empty chamber, with a single rock inside. Some Virago claim the rock looks like an androgynous humanoid locked in meditation, though others have claimed it resembles an orionid, a massive battlebriar, or even a massive dobbit with equal levels of credibility. The place has no arcane, divine, or primal energies, and is remarkably unremarkable. Despite this, it has become a place of mediation and pillgrimage for many among the Wygrove Confederacy.
-4 PP Create Artifact -- The Triskelion: The Triskelion experiences a sudden increase in primal vitality. Living creatures upon the region gain the maximum possible hitpoints whenever they spend a surge due to a healing power. Likewise, any creatures with the "undead" keyword are stunted, suffering a -1 to attack and a -3 to damage rolls while within the mountain.
-1 PP Guide Creatures -- Due to the abovementioned infusion of life energy, the zombies, ghosts, and unnatural undead lurking within the Triskelion depart in great haste, either traveling west, towards the many-souled denizens of Bahenet, or down, through the earth to infest the caverns between the far side of the world.
-0 PP Syreene|Sonnet leaves play.
The massing insects continued to try and make crude imitations of Itja-Rek's form from time to time, now also mimicing the form of Hirudi and the spawns of Hirudi before they broke on the wind. The swarms seemed to be oblivious to the gods around them almost, taking no note as Itja-Rek drew nearer, and odder still, taking no notice of the massice Hirudi. Simply immitating the goings on around them.
The voices droned, quickly tearing the new words to pieces and scattering them as quickly as the massed insects.
"This world will be frightened."
"What?!"
"Itja-Rek, I would know you."
The swarming insects began to slowly dissapate, until the area began to look almost normal again, though the concentration of insects was still high, the vegetation and light began to become visisble again.
6 PP for all, thank you, goodnight.
Wait. That was different. That was actually a phrase that he had not spoken.
"Do you also exist as an entity? Can you tell me a name to call you?" he asked the winding swarms.
The swarms swirled around the god when they could, what ground-bugs remained moving a circle below him, as though a black vortext in the ground, then once again begin to take crude approximations of humanoid forms, the thrumming voice splicing together bits and pieces of statements to try and form a whole.
"Tell me a name?"
"I am Itja-Rek."
"Do not be frigthened."
A cold wind began blowing down from the Sunshroud mountains onto the continent below. In Bahetshep, the Bahenet gripped their cloaks tightly to their bodies as the gusts of wind blew... and soon, it began to snow...
~Mushroom Forest~
"No, no. I am Itja-Rek. You cannot be me. Are you made up of these insects, or do you direct them? Do you know this Other one?" Itja-Rek gestured towards the figure in the Orb. "Where do you come from?"
The Sky of the Warped World
That was a weird night, the dreams was odd for everyone who could sleep, they sensed a world plunged in ethereal darkness, obscured, stalked by horrors spawned from the nightmares of a demented dreamer. When that day the sun did not raise that morning fear begun to spread among those who bathe in daylight.
When the mortal begun to tremble and pray to their gods to be given back the blessing of the light, some of them fearing to have caused their wrath trough sin a vast circle of light appeared into the sky, a crown that surrounded a black orb, a vision from hell, or heaven… Those who watched directly into the sky soon found out that the light could hurt their eyes, the ones who thrived in the dark felt again its burning touch… Slowly the disk of shadows receded, the light freed from its grasp, dispersing the nightmare of the ethereal night.
A few however was left with the impression that within that disk of blackness there was some kind of presence, a sleeping beast or a wicked malevolence, that coiled around the disk, craving to devour the light again.
Mishway
For centuries Daxos was asleep, a massive pool of darkness, flat as a tranquil see, hidden within the darkest recess of Mishway, in the void left by the lands captured by the worldwarp. The god stirred and darkness plunged into the world, twitching and swirling, attracted by the light of the sun, solified as a large orb… A black moon whose unpredictable path some time obscured the light, slowly adapting its “orbit” to mirror the one of the sun, doomed one day to bring an ethereal eclipse.
x PP Mold, a disk of darkness that "orbit" with the sun and the star in the middle of the world, its movemnets are unpredictable but slowly tend to synchronize with the sun (however it'll never happen during the game timeline unless forced by the direct influence of the gods). How much should I spend for that? I was also thinking that maybe I can make it some kind of "superior spawn" maybe, what do you think about that?
0 PP - Daxos still sleeping form float to cover the dark "moon".
Also, we are trying something a little different to provide some spice and prompt new opportunities for RP and interaction between our peoples. An Ice Age cometh! Lets explore where this is going to go.
The goddess replied to the one called Itja-Rek
"We come from a realm beyond this world, and have seen countless more before. There we were known as The Many..... Hirudi"
Hunger that’s what they felt, rage, the winter has starved them, their families was dying and the hunters could not came back with enough food for everyone, most of them could only dream of a grim future, they felt the dark touch of the black sun on their skin, the cold crawling into their bones. Their community was too far from help, abandoned and lone…
One day a lone hunter watching his children slowly fall into the cold sleep of death, wowed to offer anything to any power that could save his family, his prayers to the gods ignored, maybe carried away by the winter wind, carried to dark ears, during the night, a sinister voice answered his prayers… As the legend goes by the dark challenged the hunter to respect his offer, it told him that it will take everything from him, but that in the end his people will endure… The hunter accepted, the dark voice guided him deeper into the forests, sent horrors spawned from his deepest nightmares to challenge him. He performed unspeakable rituals in the name of the voice and in the end it granted him his reward.
No one knows what species the hunter originally came from, as the voice reshaped him and his people fully, taking from them their bodies, their minds and their souls, the voice forged new beings from the mortal clay. Strengthening their muscles, thickening their skin, protecting them from the cold with a dark or white mantle, granting powerful claws and fangs, sharpening their senses so that no prey can escape even the youngest of their kind. In their minds, it left the hunger and rage, awakening powerful bestial urges without totally extinguishing their intellect; it instilled within them a lust for the flesh of sentient beings, compelling, but not strong enough to cloud their judgment. Finally within the depths of their sub-conscious minds the voice hid the memories of their weakness, the fear of losing everything that brought that original hunter to sacrifice everything.
At first only a small community was turned, but the voice granted to the first hunter the power to make others of his kind, by infecting them with his blood. Soon larger tribes of the “Pure” as they begun to call themselves spread in the coldest and most inhospitable regions of the land, turning or butchering the small communities that lived within their territories.
So I’ll make the last expense 4 pp (maybe a mold in the end)
3 PP Shape Populace “Purebred Werebeast”, they are not shapeshifters, once they get into the feral form after being turned they could not shift back and their mindset is changed, the turning process is long extremely painful, but almost impossible to reverse, no vestige of the original race remain, just a vaguely humanoid build.
OOC: I don’t have a clear understanding of what civilizations are around and where, that's why I remain super generic hehe... Can I get a quick recap? Is there a map (maybe a political one) somewhere in the wiki or the ooc?
2/9 +0
Look in my profile. I uploaded some maps a while back. Been meaning to finalize them and put them on the wiki, but have been distracted with other things.
The cold came early this year in the southern part of the continent. Most thought it was just a fluke in the weather, but the sailors knew better. Something was changing on the wind. Something was coming. With the cold came the storms. With the storms came harder times and less fishing. The elders where hoping they had enough food to last the upcoming winter. The church having a harder time hiding it, only had one thing on their mind: Where was their god? Where was Astriluxus?
Somewhere in the Caverns of Davos, Godspire~
Pollux was slowly making his way through the labyrinthe caverns slowly finding his way up(down?) to the center where he started to see small patrols of orcs. Hiding the best he can from these new creatures, it was the first sign of actual civilization that he had seen in quite a while.
Somewhere in the hive~
The pile of objects shifted suddenly as a bright flash emitted from somewhere inside. Anyone watching would have thought they where seeing things.
Godspire Kairok?~
A little ring jingled on the ground near some naga. Just as soon as one was about to bend down to look at it it started to grow. Not two minutes later a reptilian humaniod was standing in the place of the ring. Stretching out he saw the shocked naga. "Oh! Hello! Sorry to startle you." looking around "Crap I must have fainted again. Stupid ring form, and stupid space-time fluxes!" Looking down at his new body "Oooooo! I look like a dragonborn! Excellent! Wait till Aaviz sees this! huh? oh nevermind and dont worry about anything either, all will be well!" He starts to walk away from the still startled and shocked naga when he calls back "The name is astriluxus! It might come in handy one day!" and with that he walks in some random direction.
5PP: Ascend Avatar
~Soulshard Nation~
"In essence," Despair replied to Schi'vya. "It is said that the best way to avoid a trap is to set it off on your own terms."
"The many." it buzzes, once again taking on crude replicas of Itja-rek as he they speak, "Made up of these insects or direct them? Know this other one."
"You cannot be me, Itja-Rek."
"Where do you come from?"
The swarms took on more deffinitive shapes managing to maintain figures for a longer period of time before they scattered.
5pp Ascend Avatar: This is basically bookkeeping. The Seven's body is real bugs. I didn't realize how often PP resets happened, or I'd have done this sooner. :P
Itja-Rek chuckled.
"Well, at least we agree that you and I cannot be the same. As for where I come from... oh, that is a very long story. The simplest way to tell it is that I, and many other gods of this world, come from a place that was once called Culthet, a land of dark, stormy oceans and sleeping horrors. Eventually, though, that place collided with another, called Mishway, and in the resulting chaos as the two planes fused together, this place we are in now came to be. If you look around, you can still see signs of the original planes, but for the most part, all that had been is now lost. It is not all bad, though. We refugees, from both Culthet and Mishway have managed to make a little place for ourselves here."
"But what of you two? Wherever you came from... I certainly did not recognize it."
ascend exarch (combat) 4pp
ascend exarch (divine) 2pp + 2pp from last week
Hirudi's tails now have now divided to better serve their mistress, each group performing a specific task (genesis/combat/divine)
The swarms, still rough mockeries of the form of Itja-Rek buzzed and churned over themselves repeating snippets of phrases the two gods around them made over and over, as though trying to dissect them for parts, mostly oblivious of the many heads of Hirudi, despite the fact they still devoured parts of the swarms at random.
Finally, the buzzing attempted to take on coherent thought once more.
"We come from a world beyond this one. We did not recognize it. We are the many."
And with that, the flying portion of the swarms began to stream upwards, darkening the sky in the area for a time as they swirled across it, slowly beginning to dissipate, and thus leaving only Hirudi and Itja-Rek to stand before one another.
With the phasing going on, it didn't take him too long before he made it to Umbart's place, although it was with some difficulty. Hoping that Umbart could help him with the phasing problem, he noticed that poor Umbart was in no condition to help either. Laying a hand on the hurt god's injury, he closed his eyes and caused the wound to close healing him at least for a time. Leaving him to rest, he wandered around the orcish villages for a while wondering how he was going to get out, and to who he could ask for help.
A week passed by and he still wandered the villages, after a while finally running into his mortal champion Pollux. Now the two of them headed back down the godspire in hopes of finding another god that can stabilize his phasing problem.
A short, (what appeared to him to be short anyways!) green creature covered in what appeared to be all sorts of things had appeared right in front of him and seemed to have landed on his rearend. Shaking his muddled head after that last one, he looks on to his new companion. "So my friend, who might you be? and I apologise about the entrance."
0PP Ascend God Donovyet
"Who am I?" It repeats. "I'm...I 'm...I'm..." he runs his hands over his head. Suddenly a light seems to flare in his eyes. "Of course! I'm Donovyet!"
He leaps to his feet, and begins looking over Astriluxus. "Four legs, wings, and look that neck! Why didn't I think of that? That form is brilliant!" He suddenly looks down at his hands, "Oh, and these are even better!"
He falls down on his rear again, overwhelmed at the suddenness of his existence.
Darkness had fallen with the night, and with it a slight reprieve in the massacre. Mani had nearly passed and sol was almost close to rising again, when the land was sheathed in complete darkness. Fear spread among the ranks swiftly as soldiers panicked. Leaders trying to hold their men together barely able to hide their own fear.
A bright light fell on the triskelion. Silver in color and brighter than sol on its brightest day. Turning the fading night into bright day, everyone stopped. Even the mighty leviathan had stopped its massive thrashing in the mighty light. A holy light rained down upon the heavens. Those still standing found themselves filled with renewed vigor. The wounded found themselves drained but their ails had vanished.
Then the light had vanished. Dawn had risen. And with the rise of the dawn a new being descended from the heavans. A massive creature of epic proportions. Decending rapidly at a breakneck pace, it seemed to dive at the leviathan. A massive sword of light comes flying down at it slicing a massive cut into the beasts hide. The creature now closer can be seen as a giant silverish dragon. Astriluxus dived at the beast at full force smashing the mighty leviathan into the ground and causing a small crater where the impact happened. A few dozen yards away, a large dragonborn tumbles to the ground seemingly unhurt from the mighty fall. The attack comences. The battle between god and Beast has been joined. All anyone of the armies can do at the moment is watch in awe as the two mighty beings fight. The larger dragonborn looks around for an opening, his mighty sword reappearing in his hand. Not seeing any at the moment he waits to strike. People start to whisper. The word gets around to the ranks of the dragonborn and drakhen that its the mighty Pollux and Astriluxus, come to save them at last!
The mighty beasts head falls onto the ground seemingly subdued as a massive claw holds its head onto the ground, Astriluxus appears to be victorious, but he looks around as if he is awaiting for something or someone. The leviathan thrashes as if its not ready to admit defeat yet.
3PP: Subdue the leviathan
holy light of life. All still living creatures fighting the leviathan are restored to full health. All though it takes some energy out of the more severly injured.
The City had grown tired of waiting. Its prey had eluded its grasp at every turn, and now it was time to finish this job. The entire massive entity was stuck to the side of the Hive, sending in giant, tunnel-filling plugs of its own essence, slowly filling the entire structure with its presence. The Trilobites had retreated further and further up as the fungus had spread.
Finally, help arrived. Kyrion swarmmaidens struck out at the expanding fungal masses, forcing it back down the tunnels while Swordwings cut into the combat forms that The City spat out to defend itself. Mazunti divers, adept beneath the waves, swam into the Twisted Hive from below, and using smoke and fire, drove the fungus before it.
Soon, the terraces of The City were sinking beneath the waves once more as a chilling message floated upwards.
YOU CANNOT HIDE MY PARTS FROM ME FOREVER. I WILL NEVER STOP SEARCHING.
~The Forge~
In the forge, a floating soul worked, using its new metal body to provide blow after blow to the object before him, slowly fashioning it into the object he desired. Again and again he worked the metal object, switching here and there to ever small tools as he worked out the fine connections and valves and compartments. It would be ready soon.
Again came the hammer, and, in a flash of sparks, the Heart began to beat.
~The Triskelion~
As the Leviathan fell, wounded horribly by Astriluxus' assault, suddenly, the Seelite Spear leaped upwards, smashing through the roof of the building in which it had been assembled, and streaked off towards the battle, sailing between Astriluxus and Pollux and sliding into the beast in a thin opening rent by one of the Great Dragon's claws. The Leviathan jerked once, then suddenly grew still. From the side of the beast, sticking out at an angle, the small amount of Seelite still visible glowed impossibly bright, holding within itself the soul of one which could rival the Gods themselves.
As the Leviathan died, its flesh began to solidify, turning to stone. Soon, curled around the eastern side of the Triskelion, the transformation was complete. The beast was no more, replaced by a mountain range.
~The Glacier~
The Eye of Concordia opened, and stared out at the world. It would take some time to gather her strength, but with her eternal foe gone... she could feel his essence leaving this world, it was time for her to rise ascendant once more.
But soon. For now, the great beast waited and watched.
~The Tomb of Itja-Rek~
Itja-Rek, at long last, came home, stepping over the boundaries of his tomb and following the painted passageways down, down, down the stairs and into the central chamber. With a wave of his hands, the chandelier sprung to light, casting its eerie glow over the entire room. He spared a glance to The Mother, still sleeping as if he had only left a moment ago instead of... how long *had* he been gone? Did it even matter now? He imagined not.
He passed to the far wall, and, activating the secret catches, stepped through into his inner sanctum. Immediately, a presence assaulted his mind, clawing at it, demanding one thing and one thing alone.
"RELEASE US."
Itja-Rek thrust out a hand to steady himself as he forced the voice back and away, relegating it to a few of his souls, who squirmed under the intense demands. What, exactly... had happened here?
He thrust open the door to his storage, and blinked in surprise. All the souls, each and every one he had captured over the millenia, were active, throwing patterns of thought across the void towards one another. They must have learned to speak to one another in his absence, reaching out to the others in their condition. And yet... there was more.
Just as Itja-Rek was one from many, in the recesses of the communication between the souls, in the silence between the words, more information flowed, and from that came the presence that had assaulted Itja-Rek earlier.
"I will free you." Itja-Rek said, beginning to go to work. He went to a wall and pulled out his prized specimen, one of the humans that had vanished into Aaviz' hat so long ago. He took it back to his workbench, and grabbed his tools.
In slid the blade, cutting just next to the bone of the arm, passing easily through skin and muscle before cutting down the length of the arm. Working quickly, the blade passed across the hands, cutting open the palm and each finger. Gently, Itja-Rek reached in, pushing the flesh out of the way and grasping the bone, pulling it gently out and laying it to the side. It was vital that the tendons stay intact, at least for now. The process was repeated on the other arm, then, the blade slid across the chest, just under the collarbone, before cutting shallowly down the sternum. Within moments, Itja-Rek was reaching into the body and pulling out one organ after another, tossing them aside and, with a snap of his fingers, sending them into oblivion. He stood back and checked his work, then proceeded to cut through the legs, pulling the bones free as before.
The head proved a bit tricky, but soon the flesh was removed and the skull stared up at the God. He pulled away the remaining flesh, disposing of it with a blast of flame before returning to the skeleton and washing it carefully, cleaning any remaining blood and tissue from it, leaving just the tendon-connected bones behind. Then, he turned and went back into the other room and began gathering souls together. He forced them together into a mass before returning to the table and forcing the mass up into the brain cavity. It took several minutes, but eventually, a dull glow began shining from the skeleton's eyes as the souls within grew accustomed to their new surroundings. Fingers twitched, legs shook, and, after a long moment, the mouth began to wheeze soft words.
"thank you." It said.
"I am going to leave you this place for now. Watch over it until my return." The god told its... Son, he imagined would probably be the best word to describe it. The skeleton nodded, and the two returned together to the main chamber of the tomb. Once there, the skeleton came and sat on the throne, while Itja-Rek went over and picked up The Mother, cradling her against his clammy chest.
"Come, Mother. I think its time we leave and go to live with our Children. This musty Tomb... I find I no longer enjoy it."
And he went to the wall and stepped through the Portal to the Endless River, where the souls of the dead float in peace.
And in a side room, next to a broken machine, a naga lay, tail spasming every so often. Blue, glowing veins ran up her arms and across her chest, and her face... her eyes burned, so bright was the light shining from it.
And yet, the gaze was dull, the scales dirty, the face unwashed. The Reaper lay there, tongue hanging from her mouth, twitching it every once in a while to flip more of the essence of the distillery into her throat, experiencing her god's Bliss forever, just as she wanted.
~Bahetshep~
"Just LISTEN to me." Angelique snapped, standing before the very council of scholars that had laughed her from their presence nearly fifty years ago.
"Do you see this rock? How about this one? How can you deny this? I have traveled the length of this world, talking to those who are the oldest of us all. The Trilobites, the Eladrin, the Mish, the Naga and Death Titans, the Eladrin. I have even sought out the records of the Illithids and met with the presence known as The City. They only have myths and legends of those times, but the totality of their testimony can only serve to prove my hypothesis. Two worlds, floating seprately through the universe, thrown together by unknown forces and fused together into this one, a world where horrors from the darkest storms coexist with those born among fields of mushrooms. Is it not wonderful? Is it not astounding what we have done? Do you not believe?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"In the writings above, I have laid out the argument that our single world was once Two. Yet, if we were once Two, and now One, how is it that the world fits so perfectly together? How is it that the Vineaza and Elves live in such harmony? How is it that the Dobbits fall prey to Hook Horrors, who are then eaten by Skyhawks? If we were once Two, perhaps we were always meant to become One. Perhaps, like long-estranged lovers, our two worlds needed one another. We, their children, are undoubtedly better off for their union."
~Closing words of "The WorldWarp" by Angelique Pym.
1 PP: Guide Populace: Kyrions attack The City
1 PP: Guide Populace: Mazunti attack The City
2 PP: Denourish Race: The City loses some mass after being attacked.
1 PP: Attack Beast: The Seelite Spear 'defeats' the Leviathan
4 PP: Despawn Beast: The Leviathan is no more
2 PP: Mold Land: The Leviathan becomes a mountain range, curving to the east of the Triskelion
4 PP: Nourish(?) Plane: The traps in the Tomb of Itja-Rek grow numerous and strong, and rumor has it that a presence lives in the tomb, one that watches and predicts and foils every attempt to steal its treasures.
3 PP: Change Keyword: Condordia awakens (Rampage)
4 PP: Create Artifact: The Heart of Umbart is completed.