Heroes of the Fall

[shorewood]

The Weaver was first to arrive still elated, he flowed into the room like a rainbow filled with the promises of might be's and never wills.

The Silvar came next shadows clinging to him as he prowled into the room with a hunters grace.

Both of these imposing figures found there seats and the feast began. For all of Mrs. Hensworth's babbling and money grubbing no one could speak an honest word against her cooking. The first course was a salad of fresh vegetables picked this morning. Then came the main dish of pulled pork and sweat breads. For dessert a small bowl of fresh fruit.

During the meal Haramhold talked about the nexus explaining in depth the details of the Nexus and answering any questions they might have. He also pointed out several problems he had come across as he passed out the paper he gathered earlier.
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Jones stood on top of the walls looking upon the mismatched mob below. Spirits both pleasing to the eye and dreadful to look upon hovered above a lone rider. Several dolphins leap about playfully in the river changing color sometimes in mid air. And they all wanted to talk to Haramhold. Jones Figured that it was his luck that he would have the guard duty today. He supposed that the poor souls outside must have even worse luck, all having arrived within ten minutes of each other, each and everyone of them an over an hour too late to catch Green MorningStar and her divine passengers. Now they all had to wait several days as the gate's messenger was sent forth with all haste toward the city.
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In a small room in the outskirts of Salus a woman cuddled her newborn babe, still wet from child birth as the child slept peacefully.

"What are you going to call him?" the midwife asks as she cleans up the afterbirth.

Leaning her head forward lovengly the mother plants a sweet kiss on the babes forehead and responds "Jack"

[AntiMatter101]

Waiting outside Salus

The spirits floated in the air in front of the top of the wall, doing their best to wait patiently. Time had little meaning for them, but they did urgently wish to fufill their mission. Still, as of this moment there was nothing they could do to further their goal except wait; the guard named Jones had been clear on that count.

They busied themselves with examining the strange wall that would not let them through, and the way the wall seemed to extend upwards where the stone ended. This did not last long, however, as below them, someone else arrived and discovered this most mysterious quality of The Wall.

They debated over whether they should go and introduce themselves. Eventually, their collective curiosity got the better of them, and they floated over to the one which looked to be in charge: The one with the black armor and shield.

They approached, the two of them who were holding their charge stayed in back, focusing on not dropping it, while the other four offered greetings.

"Hail, stranger! Do you also seek Haramhold? We were informed that we must wait several days for the message to reach him. We have never met creatures like yourself before, what exactly are you?"

An ethereal spirit that appears as a humanoid-shaped collection of soundless, heatless golded fire has a hard time expressing body language; but the spirits emotions could be sensed by those observing them, and they were emitting a rather naive curiosity more than anything else.

[Tychris1]

Outside of Salus

Wow this wall was long, it just seemed to keep going and going and going and... Were those red dolphins and spirits? Even after Miranda left seeing the Sea of Jongo she had to admit this was a strange sight. The sight of spirits was especially strange, Miranda hadn't thought necromancy was much explored by the rest of the world, and yet a conglomeration of souls layed infront of her.

Wait.....

SEVERAL DAYS

Adressing the glowing spirit Miranda replied in a stiff military tone "I am Miranda, General of my Dragon Lord Contragh, King of all that lies within his sight. Me and my kin are Wraith's, the living dead imbued with my lords wrath made manifest and given a semblance of dark life so that we may do battle for eternity. Am I correct citizen, in hearing that you report us waiting several days to enter? Do you know of any other way in? My Lord will be arriving in mere days and will have expected me to have entered and adressed Haramhold's city." Her wings unfurled fully, adding to her regal and military appearance, as the wraith that escorted her held firmly onto her morningstar and buckler shield.

[TheDarkDM]

The Ancient Vault Opens

As Sonata's fingers brushed against the smooth stone of the mural wall, she felt a jolt of energy surge through her. The gleaming wall flashed, and in an instant half was shining silver and half was gleaming black, the two conflicting shades meeting in the mural's central spire. Soundlessly, the tower split, and the opposing walls of light and dark slid apart, curving impossibly around them to hug the valley walls and revealing the chamber beyond.

The domed room was massive, larger even, Sonata thought, than the mountain that supposedly held it. Despite its size, everything within was bathed in a soft twilight, revealing another mural beyond. From the blackened half-tower flew a wave of nightmare creatures, twining wings and shadowed limbs surging together into a mass that should have been unrecognizable, yet Sonata could see the oncoming storm of raw hate as though it were advancing upon her. Flying to meet it from the silver half of the spire was a similar mass, ordered and bright where the first was chaos and shadow. They met on the far side of the room, a shower of carnage that spread into the dome until it seemed the very sky was at war. Yet for all the grandeur of the mural, it could not match the two statues that stood against each other at the center of the room.

They rose more than a hundred feet in the air, a dark king clashing with a shining queen, each arrayed in armor so intricate that even Sonata's divine perception could scare absorb the fullness of it. Their frozen clash of their blades emitted sparks of phantasmal flame, sending a beam of flickering light down on a plinth on the floor. There, something flickered above the unnamed stone. At once it seemed a scepter, then a sword, then a massive key, and as he looked on it Melos smiled.

"Well done, child. Now run along - you've served your purpose."

Stepping forward, Melos strode towards the flickering something, sparing not a glance towards the immense memorial above it. Reaching out, he seemed to grab at air, but the flickering ceased. Pulling his hand back, he seemed to draw the half-images like a lodestone pulling iron, until there was nothing above the plinth, and in his hand was a slender black rod.

"I doubt we'll be seeing each other again. Farewell, for what little time remains to you."

Flicking out his free hand, Melos was suddenly holding a sphere of absolute nothingness, a dull hole in the universe. He winked at Sonata, and was consumed by it, leaving the chamber beyond silent as a crypt.

Reunions

Lossethir's smile was broad as he embraced Frellon, yet despite its warmth his arms were deathly cold, and when they released each other Frellon's armor was rimed with frost. Laughing, Lossethir slapped Frellon's back, sending ice shards flying into the air. He was strong, stronger than he'd ever been in the White City, and the unexpected blow nearly staggered the god of Honor.

"Aye Frellon, I thrive. How could I not? Attended by my maidens in Celonechor we want for nothing! But tell me, brothers, how do you fare? This grand fortress cannot be the fullness of your domain."

[AntiMatter101]

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Outside of Salus

Wow this wall was long, it just seemed to keep going and going and going and... Were those red dolphins and spirits? Even after Miranda left seeing the Sea of Jongo she had to admit this was a strange sight. The sight of spirits was especially strange, Miranda hadn't thought necromancy was much explored by the rest of the world, and yet a conglomeration of souls layed infront of her.

Wait.....

SEVERAL DAYS

Adressing the glowing spirit Miranda replied in a stiff military tone "I am Miranda, General of my Dragon Lord Contragh, King of all that lies within his sight. Me and my kin are Wraith's, the living dead imbued with my lords wrath made manifest and given a semblance of dark life so that we may do battle for eternity. Am I correct citizen, in hearing that you report us waiting several days to enter? Do you know of any other way in? My Lord will be arriving in mere days and will have expected me to have entered and adressed Haramhold's city." Her wings unfurled fully, adding to her regal and military appearance, as the wraith that escorted her held firmly onto her morningstar and buckler shield.

Outside of Salus

"Well met, Miranda of Contragh. We were given the name Orunta spirits by our master and creator: Frellon, the Lord of Arms. Would that we knew another way inside, for our mission is urgent as well. He sent us to Haramhold, but it now seems we must wait for Haramhold to come to us. These walls do not permit us to pass, and the barrier extends far into the sky and deep under the earth."

One of the other spirits spoke, unable to contain his burning curiosity.

"You say that you were once dead? Remarkable! Do you prefer this life to your last one?"

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Spoiler

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Reunions

Lossethir's smile was broad as he embraced Frellon, yet despite its warmth his arms were deathly cold, and when they released each other Frellon's armor was rimed with frost. Laughing, Lossethir slapped Frellon's back, sending ice shards flying into the air. He was strong, stronger than he'd ever been in the White City, and the unexpected blow nearly staggered the god of Honor.

"Aye Frellon, I thrive. How could I not? Attended by my maidens in Celonechor we want for nothing! But tell me, brothers, how do you fare? This grand fortress cannot be the fullness of your domain."

Family

Frellon's pain showed on his face, at the memories, not at the blow. "I live, I grow and I learn. My choices have wiped clean that which I spent a good long time trying to build, but now I can start afresh, thanks to Carolinus and the kindness of the dead."

Yet Frellon did not let the fresh reminder ruin this moment for him. This was a time for Joy and Celebration. Another of his brothers was discovered safe and sound! Thanks be to Baz'Auran! Lossethir lives!

[Gengy]

Jongo and Contragh Move On

"Oh, well, ummm..." Jongo seems like he wants to say something as Contragh sends the Wraiths away, but suddenly feeling drained from the creation of the Chaos Realm, she doesn't get it out in time.

Taking a deep breath, Jongo shakes his head, and just pauses for a bit while Contragh takes care of his business. Sitting down on the ocean floor, Jongo stares down at the sandy bottom, and taps at the earth, lost in thought.

There really wasn't any sea floor I don't think, within the Chaos Realm. I wonder if that's because I haven't had a chat with rocks? I should find Torvaag, or even Khalen-Fishy.

"Jongo, I have a question to ask of you." Contrath's voice snaps Jongo out of her reverie.

"Questions? Well, I'm always willing to answer. Just... ask as I work, all right? I need to get Teri, Bahbi, and Mati ready. They'll be coming with us. And then I need to get us to Salus in one piece, which really, shouldn't be all that hard. The one piece part is just a matter of concentrating. I mean, I could just take us right to the Green Morningstar, I bet, but - help me stand, there's a good man - it'd be better to just go straight to Salus, I think. Which, really, Bunny - Hail, by the way - you should wait and listen to people before making demands. I can get us to Salus licky-split; you really didn't need to send General Miranda and her friends away. Oh, but look at me, I'm babbling again. You said you had questions?"

Jongo begins waving his hands at the three Jongoscion nearby, and gathers them close while looking over to Contragh. Once Bahbi, Teri, and Mati are near, Jongo starts pacing in an odd circle, skip-hopping occasionally, creating an odd pattern in the sand.

[Kasanip]

Sonata - Somewhere

In such an awesome place, after the disappearing of Melos, the spell controlling Sonata is released. She looks in awe and confusion at this ancient vault.

"What is this place?" She asks to the statues. "What happened, and what was it that Melos took?"

"I need answers, please." Sonata asked again to the room.

[Tychris1]

Contragh and Jongo, moving on

Contragh nods his head as he listens to his sisters words of wisdom "Perhaps you are right and I am being too rash and brutish. Perhaps you are wrong and the time shall be wasted. We shall see soon enough we arrive." the undead dragon stares at the skipping and hopping that plays out in front of him "As for my question, you've spent quite a bit of time watching the ceiling and Baz'Auran at work on the world. Your knowledge of what has happened on the disk is far greater then my own, yet still I have seen our father at work aswell. Tell me, what do you know of Wyrm's? You seem to have quite an easy time interacting with beasts of great magnitude, and I wish to know as much as I can before I go too head long into something...." His tattered face smirks as he eyes Jongo "Wouldn't want my head getting too big."

Outside of Salus

Miranda continues to inspect the spirits infront of her. So, they were a fellow creation of the gods, and one who was apparently a fellow god of battle. Miranda looks op at the wall and then down at the dirt before addressing the question "In life I felt pain, I felt weakness, I felt so many horrid things that held my potential back. In death I am hollow, I am cold and I desperately cling to feel..... But I have been perfected. My form is forever in its prime, my body never tires, I never have to be held back by my past limitations. If true power requires sacrifice then I would gladly sacrifice my past life for the one I have now." She inspects her tower shield as she says this. Finally, after having given up on penetrating the fortress, Brutus and Cassanor arrive at the front where Miranda and her fellow wraith is. Throwing a glance at the Orunta the Queen of the Wraiths says "So, you were made by a lord of battle? Did he empower you with the skills to fight in the world? Duels could very easily pass the time for Haramhold and the others to arrive."

[Gengy]

Jongo and Contragh Move On
and Jongo gets Top Billing

"Wyrms? Well, that's certainly not the question I thought you'd be asking." Jongo listened as the Band of Chaos tooted something out, off key as usual. "Yes, yes. It's left foot right foot left foot right foot up down, eh? Be starting soon. And no, I don't think he's talking about little things in the ground. I distinctly heard the 'y', not the 'o'."

"Echum. Where was I? Oh, right! Wyrms. I assume you're speaking of the greater term for the various dragon kind that inhibit the Disk. To be fairly honest, I don't know a lot. There were times I caught glimpses of dragons as I was with Father, but he never created one in front of me. Well, maybe a lesser Wyrm once. A Wyvern or two. But I never saw the creation of a leader of a Flight. Never saw him imbue one with a larger deal of power. I do know that Father always seemed to smile that little smile he had when he was getting ready to make something big; and a few days later he might - accidentally - show it to me and anyone else in the room, before moving on to something else."

"Most of the time, it was a dragon, or a dragon spawn. Though there were a few mythical birds, a particularly white horse with a horn and wings, and a tiny goat man. I don't think the goat man lived very long. I could be wrong. What were we talking about? Right. Dragons. Well. Ducky actually would be the better person to talk with about this. He and I would get giddy every time we saw one. All right, I got giddy, and Duck would become pensive. He spent some time studying them. But then, when does Faden ever not study?"

The circle that Jongo was hopping around in was complete. In the sand, there was carefully drawn, erratic holes, that seemed to make an odd symbol. Except for one line, everything looked fairly symmetrical.

"The Symbol of Chaos is done, though it'll only be temporary, so watch where you step. Once the water closes in, it'll be wiped away. But we should be gone by then. Ready?"

[Tychris1]

Jongo and Contragh, Moving On
You win this round........

Contragh mulls over the answer, not quite as expansive as he was hoping, but it would do. Lookin over what Jongo made Contragh threw a glance at his militia o Wraiths, causing them to lower their weapons and await for further command "I am ready, brother. I await to see what else Haramhold has accomplished with his time on the disc." And with that Contragh plopped himself down on the ground near Jongo, being sure as to not step on the symbol he drew out with any of his appendages.

[AntiMatter101]

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Outside of Salus

Miranda continues to inspect the spirits infront of her. So, they were a fellow creation of the gods, and one who was apparently a fellow god of battle. Miranda looks op at the wall and then down at the dirt before addressing the question "In life I felt pain, I felt weakness, I felt so many horrid things that held my potential back. In death I am hollow, I am cold and I desperately cling to feel..... But I have been perfected. My form is forever in its prime, my body never tires, I never have to be held back by my past limitations. If true power requires sacrifice then I would gladly sacrifice my past life for the one I have now." She inspects her tower shield as she says this. Finally, after having given up on penetrating the fortress, Brutus and Cassanor arrive at the front where Miranda and her fellow wraith is. Throwing a glance at the Orunta the Queen of the Wraiths says "So, you were made by a lord of battle? Did he empower you with the skills to fight in the world? Duels could very easily pass the time for Haramhold and the others to arrive."

Outsided Salus
"It would not seem so. He designed us to be messangers; our difficulty interacting with material objects aids us in this regard, for normal weapons and obstacles pass right through us. We need never sleep nor eat, we can simply travel unceasingly to our destination. It does make our current mission difficult though, for if we do not constantly focus on our parcel, we would not be able to hold it." The spirit gestures behind him to the two spirits who hold the shattered remains of an old wooden bow between them with utmost reverence. It has seen hard times, and has been subjected to a long voyage over the ocean, where it was not exactly spared from the moisture and salt-water.

"We know not much of anything, for our creation was a short time ago, and this is our first mission!" Their excitement was nearly palpable.

"Though I feel that we could learn to fight, if there was a way around our intangability."

[Ladorak]

Reunion

Carolinus' eyes narrowed as he surveyed the maidens of Celonechor, he envisioned Ciero attired thus walking the great halls of the White City and was both scandalised and titillated by the image. He admonished himself and kept the distaste from his voice as he spoke. This was a joyous occlusion, not the time for moralising judgements 'So we see brother, who could not thrive when attended by such... fairness.' Despite his best efforts he could not keep a slight edge from his voice as he spoke the last, Baz'Auran had not crafted Carolinus for deception, no matter how well intended 'This is Wardstone, and beyond it lays inner Markien. Beyond is outer Markien, which you would have seen before you passed over the mountain pass. But do not call it my domain, I do not claim one. This is my protectorate, where all may live in peace, with equality and dignity, under my protection. Here many tribes live alongside each other and no less then four races call it home. You too, are welcome here.
'Where have you been brother, and what have you done? It has been many years since last we spoke. You must have many stories to tell.'

[The Succubus]

Emerge

The desert was still and quiet, the countless stars of heaven twinkling in the infinite void. However, a casual observer may have noticed another star this night, much lower in the sky. Unlike the pale white of its brethren, this star was a dark, flickering red, rich and hateful, as though resenting its very existence. A gentle wind picked up and blew across the empty dunes, its biting cold an ominous portent of things to come.

He found himself standing in some kind of large glass or crystal sphere. The air around him seemed to shiver as though it were in a faint heatwave. A large wooden chair sat in the centre of the room – was it a throne of some sort? He couldn’t remember. He felt some kind of connection to the place, much like a silhouette on the wall with a recognisable outline, yet impossible to discern the detail.

As he walked over to the edge of the glass, he could hear the clink of the chains that sprouted from his shoulders as they draped along the cold stone floor. The effect gave him the appearance of wearing a cloak of iron links, although the ends of the chains seemed to twist and move on their own, as if alive. He briefly caught a glimpse of his reflection in the glass. He saw a tall, heavily scarred and thin man, wearing a robe as black as the void from which he had emerged. In places of eyes, there were two small apertures to the realm of Torment that was both his prison and his kingdom.

The reflection faded and the Lord of Suffering found himself gazing across the endless dunes of the Great Southern Desert. He was far from the corrupting influences of the world here, yet he could still sense them in his mind; a nauseous, painful feeling like a mild migraine.

THE CORRUPTION MUST BE PURGED.

He nodded. His duty awaited him. As he descended the stone steps of the mysterious tower, he found himself passing numerous identical doors with various names on. Fayruz, Lossethir, Rumel, Jongo, Khalen-Het…Again, he felt a shadow form in his mind, like a thought that has slipped from memory and dances on the tip of the tongue. Whoever had built the tower seemed to have been fixated on statues. In alcoves, beside doorways…even in the library, the Lord of Suffering found statues by the shelves and in the centre of the room, perfectly frozen as though they had been alive and then suddenly stopped in time. He paused and rubbed his forehead. He had the strangest sensation that something was missing – a crown, a headband of some sort. He shook his head, beginning to feel irritated by these strange phantoms in his mind.

Outside of the tower, he paused and cast his mind across the endless stretches of the Disk. The shrouded island, the fields of slaughter, the corrupt ocea-

My...child. What monstrous changes has that demon wrought? What has been done to you?

A voice. Powerful, ancient and in pain. A voice seeking for seeking for justice and retribution.

Wrapping his cloak around him, the shadow that was the Lord of Suffering floated away north in search of the Kraken.

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Sibling-sense:

Given the rather unearthly changes Khalen-Het has undergone, his spark will be almost unrecognisable to most of the Children. They'll be able to identify it as a sibling but it will be unplesant to examine it too closely. Sonata, Fayruz and Elanna may be able to hazard a guess as to who it is.

[TheDarkDM]

The Vault of Ages Past

Sonata's words echoed through the empty vault, rebounding off the too-smooth walls until they finally faded to a whisper. There was no response from the mighty statues that towered above, and once Sonata's voice was gone the silence was absolute. Despite the altitude, Sonata could not even hear the wind, as though it were loathe to defile the sanctity of where she stood. But then a chuckle rebounded off the walls, and as Sonata looked up she saw the Lord of Weal and Woe lounging on one of the arms far above her. It stared down at her with its starry eyes, silver mask curved into a broad smile, before leaping from its perch to land beside her.

"Long you'll wait, goddess of song, if it's these two you're addressing. For one is dead, t'other's gone, and for that count your blessings. Yet to seek truth is a worthy goal, so to you some help I'll offer. Listen close, oh child of dust, for the answers that I proffer. There was a time, far long ago, before this Disk was turning - and it that time of diamond dreams, there was a conflict burning. You were made, my pretty lass, because for another Baz'Auran did yearn. But all will weep, both god and man, when the other does return."

The Lord of Weal and Woe smiled broadly again, yet it was a predatory expression, and as she saw it a chill went through Sonata. It winked, and as the stars in its eyes disappeared so did the Lord of Weal and Woe, leaving no trace.

The Ocean's Heart

Flying north, the Lord of Suffering soon lost sight of land, the towering mountains at the center of the Disk the only landmark upon an endless expanse of blue. Yet the presence he sought was not upon the surface, and so as the sun began to set the Lord of Suffering plunged below the waves.

Down he shot, beyond the light and warmth of the sun, into a realm of darkness and cold. Had he been mortal, his body would have crumpled like paper before the awesome pressure, yet he proceeded undaunted. Even in the lightless realm, his godly eyes discerned some hint of life, great slithering shadows that seemed to follow in his wake, always far enough away that he couldn't be sure if they were true or simply figments. Eventually, he began to pass greater shadows, plinths of rock and mountainous ranges that marked the floor of the ocean, yet it was still not far enough. He pushed on, certain that he would know his destination when he reached it, until he saw a gaping chasm on the horizon, so jagged and deep it must have been cut by the blade of Baz'Auran himself. Into that pit he dove, fearless, for it was nothing compared to the pit he had endured.

Passing beyond the toothy lip of the chasm, the Lord of Suffering felt the hovering shadows close in, until he could see the shimmering scales and gleaming teeth of the serpents. As soon as he saw them, their eyes exploded into phosphorescent green fire, trailing along their colossal bodies and illuminating the canyon. Draped along the walls for miles were gargantuan tentacles, glistening black, and as the light hit them they shifted, and the Lord of Suffering found himself facing the four suns that were Kraken's eyes. The beast's maw opened to reveal row after row of jagged teeth, a gnarled serpentine tongue as large as the tower where he'd entered the Disk, all armored behind a ridge of crystalline black bone.

Who seeks Kraken!? You carry the stink of Baz'Auran, godling, yet you are no child of his that I know. Tell me your purpose here.

Reunion

Lossethir smiled at Carolinus' question, seemingly oblivious to his brother's uncomfortable glances at his attendants. He motioned to them, and one sauntered to stand by her lord, allowing him to place an arm around her.

"Stories I have in abundance, brothers, though none I fear so thrilling as yours. I found the mortals where I landed to be frightfully dull, and so I took my leave of them and founded...Celonechor."

Lossethir waved his hand, and for a moment the storm outside Wardstone abated. The wind blew aside the looming clouds, and Carolinus and Frellon beheld a glistening jewel in the sky, a floating island of glacial peaks and pine forests, waterfalls plunging over the edge to dissipate into mist before even touching the ground.

"I have traveled across the length and breadth of the Disk, bringing winter with me. In some places I was treated as an honored guest, invited to great banquets in my honor. In others I was cursed. But wherever I went I sought out women of martial skill who were wasted on their small lives on the ground, and brought them into paradise. But come, enough about me - tell me of the others! How many of us survived the Fall?"

The Summons

Fayruz clung to the side of the mountain, so high she had passed the vault of the clouds and now looked down upon the flickering roil of the storm that had assailed her. The dream was different now, stranger, for despite the height and the terrible cold she was unafraid. Looking up, she could finally see the peak in sight, and she began to climb.

It was slow going, but where once cracks and ledges had sought to shake her free with their razor slickness, now the embraced her. Indeed, it seemed that every hand hold opened a little wider, every foothold grew a bit steadier, as she labored past opalescent stone towards the sunlight. A breeze struck her, sending a shock of cold energy up her spine, and as she finally reached the summit she was bathed in the blinding glow of sunlight.

"You are ready. Seek me out."

[Gengy]

An Excerpt from a speech by the Jongoscion Philosopher, Andi

The mortal mind is not perfect. It has a few... flaws.

Some mortals spend their lives trying to correct these flaws, but few ever do. With years and years of practice, someone can reduce the reactions that these flaws cause; alternatively, a mortal may grow up in a society that has already worked very hard to remove one or more of the mental inhibitions that almost every mortal mind has.

It's not completely gone, though.

Remove a mortal's sense of fear, and they become brave beyond belief. But they do not know when it would be wiser to back down in the face of a threat far too great from them alone to handle. They become tactically crippled.

Remove a mortal's sense of personal space, and they will not understand why others shun them... or worse, seek them out. Touch may not be all-important, but there are limits to how and where.

Pain. Pain is the brain's way of telling itself that something is wrong. Pain should be listened to, learned from. It can be harnessed, yes. It can fuel a temporary high. Removing it completely, however, is unwise. A mortal who cannot feel pain is one who will likely die very quickly... if they haven't already.

But the strangest flaw of all is a mortal's desire to understand. Present them with something that they have never seen before, and - if they do not fear it - they will try to understand it. They will name it, define it, figure out what it can be used for, and they will likely tell other mortals all about it.

Comprehension is one of the mortal brain's greatest strengths. Yet it is also a flaw. Because a mortal mind may say that a tree is a tree, it does not move, it grows leaves, and we can cut it down to make wood, or burn it to make fire.

But the universe does not have to agree. Most of the time, a tree will, in fact, be a tree. It is the rare times that a tree is so much more then a tree that is both dangerous and harmful to the mortal mind.

Yet, even as a Treant or a Living Plant of unspeakable horror is getting closer to finding out exactly what shape and size a mortal's mind might be - through taste or through repeatedly harmful motions that test a mortal's cranium endurance - the mortal mind is still classifying and comprehending. It has realized it is not what it once thought it was, so it must be something different.

Understanding something does not always mean you can master it.

It gives the mortal mind a distinct advantage, but there is always that chance - that slim, unusual, unexpected chance - that what a mortal understands...

...is wrong.

They find out as they feel fear. They find out as they feel their personal space invaded. They find out as they feel pain.

But through it all, the mortal mind still tries to comprehend.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Traveling by Chaos

"And I can't wait to see our niece! She's really a sweet girl, Bunny (Hail!). You'll like her lots." Jongo grinned at Contragh, and began to focus on the task at hand.

"All right, everyone, gather round, gather round." Jongo was slowly growing extra limbs for some odd reason. The small human child soon looked taller and skinnier, with an almost uncountable number of arms and hands.

"Grab hold of my hand, and whatever you do, do not let go. Matti, stop trying to grow extra arms. You don't need them right now, dearie. Bahbi, keep an eye on Uncle Bunny's (Hail) people. Teri, keep an eye on Matti. But above all, do not let go of my hand."

Reaching out, Jongo soon had a firm grip on everyone in the area. There was just one hand left, and Jongo looked at her brother. Grasping's Contragh's hand in his, Jongo grinned and said, "You may want to close your eyes. I know I'll have my own wide open, because honestly? I've never done this before. I hope I remember everything!"

With a final laugh, Jongo's eyes begin to glow - one a bright green, and the other, a startlingly shiny shade of grey. The Symbol of Chaos at Jongo's feet responds by glowing as well, and then the waves come crashing in as the air bubble that most everyone had been in disappears.

After all, it didn't need to exist anymore.

There was no one left for it to protect.

Everyone was gone.

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The Sea of Jongo was no where to be seen. At least, not by the mortal mind.

Matti could feel Creator-Father-Mother's hand holding him tight, but could not see anyone else. Matti only saw a sea of kelp and seaweed, waving so high into the sky that he could not see the top. Nor could he see the bottom. But he knew - knew without a doubt - they would have to travel through this thick seaweed to get to where they were going.

Matti's mind could understand that, and felt safe.

--------------

Bahbi could no longer see the Revenants. This concerned him slightly, because Creator-Father-Mother had given him a task, and it was one he thought was easy enough. But as soon as the glow disappeared, Bahbi was in the middle of the largest super-pod of dolphins he'd ever seen. Every dolphin was trying to go a different way, and they were jammed tightly together.

If Bahbi didn't have a firm grip on Creator-Father-Mother's hand, and feel it's gentle pull, he wouldn't know which way to squeeze through. That was the one thing Bahbi knew for sure, and so he did what he had to, and followed the hand.

--------------

Teri was concerned. She couldn't see Matti anymore. She couldn't see Bahbi. Couldn't see Uncle Bunny. She couldn't see anything.

It was so dark here it was almost blinding. Only the gentle touch of Creator-Father-Mother's hand, tugging her through the darkness, kept Teri from being overwhelmed.

A part of her wanted to do something about the darkness. It wanted to find out more. It wanted to search around, and see if there was anything here.

But that gentle, steady pull on her wrist kept reminding her to move. She understood that that was important. So she kept moving.

--------------

The mortal mind comprehends what it does not understand to the best of it's ability. It is a safety mechanism. It strives to understand, to make sense of what information it has in front of it.

A human baby takes several months after being born to slowly - carefully - expand itself to it's surroundings. First comes the abilities to control the head, the face; then it moves outward towards the arms, the hands, the fingers. A baby will begin to kick and thrust with their lower body. They will develop fine motor control, and slowly open their eyes to the world outside.

This happens carefully, gradually, and it is for a reason.

Even at a young age, the mortal mind takes an interest to protect itself from not understanding; from having too much information all at once. Though it is a flaw, and can sometimes be wrong, it is still a great strength. It is a form of protection for the mortal mind.

Jongo did not have a mortal mind.

She could see... everything.

Matti was covered in a protective layer of seaweed. Bahbi was hugged tightly by a large unending spool of dolphins. Teri looked terrified, but Jongo knew she could not see out of the globe of darkness that surrounded her.

Each Revenant seemed to be seeing something different, and Jongo didn't understand them all. One seemed to be walking down a long corridor, filled with doors that couldn't be opened. Another was in a weapon's room, surrounded by sharp dangerous swords. Another was in the midst of a battle, fighting his way through the throng all while still holding Jongo's hand.

Each mortal mind seemed to have constructed it's own private pocket of understanding. They knew they had to get from one place to another, and that their only guide was the slowly tugging hand that held them.

Jongo didn't have a hand tugging him.

Jongo didn't have a private pocket of understanding.

Her's was not a mortal mind. Jongo had a divine mind. It held the same flaws as a mortal mind. Jongo knew fear. Jongo knew pain. Jongo could respect personal space, when it suited him. But a divine mind could understand so much more.

Especially one that was twice born of Chaos.

To Jongo, where they were was not a... place. Not exactly.

It was here. It was now.

But it was also so much more.

It was potential. It was possibilities.

It reminded Jongo of her mindscape, really. Wheverever they were was a bleak grey place, punctuated by possibility. Bright, glaring beacons seemed to shine in the distance, and there were pools of darkness that Jongo did not even bother to try and understand. They were questions for later.

The Band of Chaos helped.

It currently rested in Jongo's nose, lightly piercing the skin. It was an unusual location, and Jongo wasn't a huge fan of it at first. But then Jongo felt the Band of Chaos tug towards one of the beacons of light.

Jongo was literally being led through this place by the nose.

With a direction in mind, Jongo spared no further time and just kept pulling everyone onward. He did not bother to look back at anyone else, and privately hoped that Contragh had closed his eyes. Jongo had no clue was her brother might see in this place.

It was slow going, like walking through mud. Jongo hazarded to guess that had it just been him and the Band of Chaos, they would have been there nearly instantly.

But with so many Revenants, three Jongoscion, and one divine sibling to guide, nearly instantly was taking forever.

All Jongo could do was move forward, towards the beacon of light.

After a while, Jongo did begin to understand. The beacons were the various Symbols of Chaos that Jongo had made throughout the world. Jongo wanted to ask the Band of Chaos about this realization, but no sound came from Jongo's mouth. No thoughts could be projected.

This was a place of pure silence.

So Jongo trudged onwards.

To Jongo it felt like minutes, hours, even days passed before they all stood near the Symbol of Chaos that shone with a brilliant ever changing light. Peering into it, Jongo could tell that they only needed to step through this, and all of them would be in the little Hut that Buttlerfly had made for her.

Pulling hard with each of his many hands, Jongo moved each of her wards through, one after another. There was only Contragh left, and Jongo did not bother to look back as he wrapped every arm around her brother, and together, they jumped through.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Contragh and Jongo, in Salus
And Contragh gets top billing this time

"Well. That was. Different. Everyone have all of their parts?" Jongo looked around, and realized that everyone was piled on top of each other, in what humans would call a dogpile. Poor Matti seemed to be at the bottom, but he'd done what he could and shape shifted into a turtle to make it easier on himself.

Slowly unwrapping herself from Contrath, Jongo moved outside of the color-changing hut, and set Contragh down.

"How about you, Bunny?" There was no Hail this time. The Revenants seemed too weary. "You all right?"

[Tychris1]

Traveling by Chaos

Contragh, The Dark Knight of the White City

Baz'Aurans bloody hand on the disk

Master Axemen and Executioner, Conqueror of Men

Surely he had nothing to fear, especially when possessed with a divine mind that had been penetrated by a beast of chaos before? And so, The Draconic Overlord did not close his eyes, he stared forward unflinchingly at what lay in the heart of chaos.

--------------

Ccontragh looked about, confused at what lay in front of him. He was back in the White City, or at least inside of a building on the city. The rooms were dank and dark, but the Dark God could see fine, but what he saw was less then fine.....

Pacing about he looked left and right, opening doors and closing them as he adventured through the building. He saw his siblings through out it, their faces distorted into unnatural grins as they acted out madly. Khalen-het pulled out a horn and began to play on it, spasming throughout the room as he laughed before the horn flew out of his hand and stuck itself in Carolinus' chest, who promptly looked at it and stuck it in his head (To the laughter of both of them). Shutting the door behind him he heard an explosion and the sound of body parts flying behind him as he turned to look to another room.

The pattern continued, sight after sight of his siblings defying everything he thought he understood about them. Gleefully destroying themselves and others, only for themselves to somehow appear put back together with the mere opening/closing of a door. Llassar binge drinking and breathing fire at Faden, who promptly began to dislocate his arm and flail it about as a makeshift weapon to play fight with. The Weaver throwing knives wildly around as he blathered on about no one "Stopping him now" while he's having a good time, while bulky Haramhold delicately sowed a silken sweater, only to strangle Soreal with it (Who promptly turned into a ball of flesh that absorbed itself into Haramhold). Roselia, Dasque, Rumel, and Sonata all sitting at a table playing some kind of card game. Rumel seemingly lost and pulled a Crossbow out, plunging the arrow straight into Roselia's chest, followed with Dasque's Spear through Rumel and Sonata spitting acid at Dasque. The table erupted in fire but that only seemed to send their fighting into a faster pace. Frellon sitting in a chair, looking at Avyra as a game of chess played out in front of them, yet upon losing Avyra threw the table and strangled Frellon, who began to cry and beg for mercy, before she drew out a magnificent golden sword. Aramar and Shirvan embraced in a passionate hug while Fayruz began to open her dress in the background, revealing a gaping monstrous mouth filled with razor teeth where her chest should be, which promptly devoured the pair whole.

Over and over again the Divine Conqueror was assaulted with sights like these for what seemed like days, every room leading to another, never ceasing with another door leading to another room again and again. Contragh could barely manage to look after the first one or two dozen rooms, after which he shut his eyes and merely ran screaming through the what he now knew to be some kind of tavern. Yet despite the sights that layed infront of him there was always.... something leading him. A hand that held ahold of him and guided him throughout the rooms. Eventually, in the largest room of all that contained all of his siblings, Contragh found his exit. The doorway seemed to move throughout the room, never staying in one spot, and it even placed itself on top of his fellow siblings forms. But finally he found his way out and in Jongo's hut.

Contragh and Jongo, in Salus
Top billing, damn straight

Contragh looked at his brother queasily, he had long since drifted back into his human form, and he seemed to barely be keeping himself together.

Oh wait, he just vomited on the ground. Well at least he- Wait no, there he goes again. And again. Well, it would appear as if he was- No, one last time. In any event, after Contragh shakily got his barrings back together he whispered to Jongo

"... Next time.... Let's just... fly...."

The Divine Conqueror pushed himself up, using his axe as a kind of crutch. He looked about, hunched over in the same position as an old man would, and he waved his axe and said "So.... this is Haramholds city?...."

[Gengy]

Contragh and Jongo, in Salus

Jongo retracted all of his arms, until there were only two left. They both held on to Contragh as Bunny lost his lunch. And breakfast. And last night's dinner. And yesterday's lunch.

Jongo waited. And waited.

And yesterday's breakfast.

Then Jongo ignored it all, as if it had not happened. Leading Contragh out further, so that everyone inside the Hut could move outside as well (after groggily getting down from the dogpile of worn out bodies), Jongo looked down the small hillock towards Salus.

It had changed.

The city thrived. What little glances Jongo had had when she had been helping... Jack. That was the fellow's name. When he had been helping Jack had been nothing like this.

The buildings were well made, solid, and they still lived and breathed. There looked like bath houses and large domed buildings, and Jongo thought she even saw a sewer gate here and there.

It was still Salus. But it was Salus as only Haramhold could make it; with time, care, and a desire to make it one of the most solid cities ever.

It simply breathed Haramhold in it's every buttress.

"Yes, Bunny. (Hai... hail.) This is Salus. This is Haramhold's city. And I'm fairly sure Rodney is here too. And one other."

Letting his brother stand on his own, Jongo cupped her hands together and shouted out:

"Hellllllooooo Salus! Butterfly, you better not have started without us!"

[BladeofObliviom]

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Chaos and Deception (continued from here)

"That would be fantastic of you, my dear! There are many of my children already skilled in talking with the elements. A sort of... wild magic, I suppose. It's unfocused, but it's quite useful. If you find any volunteers who would like to learn a more focused magic, and have the aptitude for it, you're welcome to teach them!" Jongo grinned.

It was nice to be near someone from the family again.

Chaos and Deception

Rose managed to resist the urge to twitch when referred to as "my dear." Barely.

This did not stop her face from becoming rather curious at the next bit. Wild magic? Sounds quite interesting indeed!

In any case, Roselia responded in her usual soft tone.

"Indeed? How splendid! I'll start tomorrow, then. Now, I'm going to go and get some rest, Jongo dear. It's good for the complexion!"

With that, she retired to the hut, lovingly crafted by the Jongoscion, and laid to rest. Improbably, none of the illusions that she had set around the island faded as she slept, remaining just as coherent and convincing as they always had been no matter the time.

The next morning, of course, she taught her first group of Jongoscion. Roselia... ...was not an education major. She regularly performed strange tricks such as intentionally teaching a fact incorrectly and waiting for somebody to notice. The Jongoscion had some trouble with their attention span. However, Roselia learned as Tezzerin had long before her that moving between different subjects quickly enough could keep them captivated. Similarly, the Jongoscion were a creative species, capable of finding innovative (if not necessarily efficient) solutions to problems that would have stumped a human class. In time, they would learn much about effective communication and yet more about effective miscommunication from their creator's sibling.

A few special ones took their training to a more complex level, learning to create false images around them and more importantly, hide things that were there. They learned that one had to think on their feet to get past the deceptions of others. Naturally, given the relative safety and fun-loving nature of the Jongoscion, these teachings were usually used for pranks and such, but Roselia was confident that they would be able to use it for more practical purposes, should such needs arise.

Rose didn't doubt that needs would arise, after all.

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1 minor act: Bless the Jongoscion. With the power of grade-school education.

1 major act: Grant the magic of Illusion to the Jongoscion, to be used as they see fit.

[AntiMatter101]

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Reunion

Lossethir smiled at Carolinus' question, seemingly oblivious to his brother's uncomfortable glances at his attendants. He motioned to them, and one sauntered to stand by her lord, allowing him to place an arm around her.

"Stories I have in abundance, brothers, though none I fear so thrilling as yours. I found the mortals where I landed to be frightfully dull, and so I took my leave of them and founded...Celonechor."

Lossethir waved his hand, and for a moment the storm outside Wardstone abated. The wind blew aside the looming clouds, and Carolinus and Frellon beheld a glistening jewel in the sky, a floating island of glacial peaks and pine forests, waterfalls plunging over the edge to dissipate into mist before even touching the ground.

"I have traveled across the length and breadth of the Disk, bringing winter with me. In some places I was treated as an honored guest, invited to great banquets in my honor. In others I was cursed. But wherever I went I sought out women of martial skill who were wasted on their small lives on the ground, and brought them into paradise. But come, enough about me - tell me of the others! How many of us survived the Fall?"

Markien

Frellon had paid the women no real mind as such. He had identified them as warriors, and so they, along with the conglomerate of onlookers, had their tactical positions being monitored passively by sheer habit. It was not until Lossethir put his arm around one that Frellon realized that they were beautiful. They were beautiful, and if Frellon knew his brother at all… It was a source of concern; for this conflict had arisen in Frellon before. Haramhold had bonded with a mortal, and Frellon couldn’t shake the notion that Fayruz may have done so. Heck, he was pretty sure he had sensed a measure of Carolinus’s power walking around inside a mortal here in Markien at some point. Frellon just didn’t see the appeal. It violated some concept within him he had no name for. Yet, at the end of the day, it was not his business. His siblings were entitled to their own senses of judgment. So Frellon contented himself to just answering the question.

“Quite a few of us, actually. I have met Jongo, The Weaver, Kalandor, Haramhold, Dasque, Faden, Fayruz… These are just those of us who were able to respond at the immediate moment when Fayruz sent for help. I am confident that there are others of us who survived the Fall but who were unable to come to her aid, like Carolinus and you for example. Who they might be, I do not know, but the possibility seems likely enough.”

Frellon’s gaze stayed trained on his brother, and he pushed his doubts about Lossethir's choices from his mind. This occasion for joy need not be marred by lecturing.

[The Succubus]

The Ocean's Heart

Flying north, the Lord of Suffering soon lost sight of land, the towering mountains at the center of the Disk the only landmark upon an endless expanse of blue. Yet the presence he sought was not upon the surface, and so as the sun began to set the Lord of Suffering plunged below the waves.

Down he shot, beyond the light and warmth of the sun, into a realm of darkness and cold. Had he been mortal, his body would have crumpled like paper before the awesome pressure, yet he proceeded undaunted. Even in the lightless realm, his godly eyes discerned some hint of life, great slithering shadows that seemed to follow in his wake, always far enough away that he couldn't be sure if they were true or simply figments. Eventually, he began to pass greater shadows, plinths of rock and mountainous ranges that marked the floor of the ocean, yet it was still not far enough. He pushed on, certain that he would know his destination when he reached it, until he saw a gaping chasm on the horizon, so jagged and deep it must have been cut by the blade of Baz'Auran himself. Into that pit he dove, fearless, for it was nothing compared to the pit he had endured.

Passing beyond the toothy lip of the chasm, the Lord of Suffering felt the hovering shadows close in, until he could see the shimmering scales and gleaming teeth of the serpents. As soon as he saw them, their eyes exploded into phosphorescent green fire, trailing along their colossal bodies and illuminating the canyon. Draped along the walls for miles were gargantuan tentacles, glistening black, and as the light hit them they shifted, and the Lord of Suffering found himself facing the four suns that were Kraken's eyes. The beast's maw opened to reveal row after row of jagged teeth, a gnarled serpentine tongue as large as the tower where he'd entered the Disk, all armored behind a ridge of crystalline black bone.

Who seeks Kraken!? You carry the stink of Baz'Auran, godling, yet you are no child of his that I know. Tell me your purpose here.

The Lord of Suffering felt unafraid by either the great beast's size or obvious strength. This was undoubtedly the source of the voice he'd heard earlier.

As the Kraken spoke of Baz'Auran, a small part of the shadow that dwelt in his mind lifted. Yes, he had been created by Baz'Auran. It made sense that there would be others as well.

After a brief pause, the Lord of Suffering answered.

CORRUPTION. FROM THE INFINITE DISTANCES BETWEEN THIS REALM AND MINE, I SENSED IT. FROM A FORGOTTEN SPIRE IN AN ENDLESS DESERT, I SENSED IT. NATURAL ORDER IS BEING BROKEN DOWN AND TURNED INTO SOMETHING PERVERSE. THE CORRUPTION MUST BE PURGED.

I HEARD AN ANCIENT VOICE SPEAK IN RAGE AND DISGUST OF DEFILEMENT. I HAVE TRAVELLED HERE TO SEEK THE SOURCE OF THE CORRUPTION AND BRING AN END TO IT. OUR GOALS ALIGN. I WOULD KNOW FROM YOU THE SOURCE OF THE CORRUPTION AND INFORMATION ON THE DAMAGE IT HAS WROUGHT.

The voice of the Lord of Suffering was cold and blunt, offering neither a warm hand of friendship nor arrogant insult. It spoke facts, reason in its purest form and it was up to the King of the Abyss to make of it what he would.

[Grimsage Matt]

Through the Earthdream

The forgeborn carried Torvaag deep from the Ash Dream, far from where they had been imprisioned. They bore him down, into dreams of the stone, the sand, and all that lies under the earth. Have you gazed or imagine the long slow dreams of the mountian stone? The quiet murmuring dreams of sand and gravel? The Proud boasting of Iron? The Subtle Nobillity of gemstones? The dreams of stalactites and stalagmites, still being born, drop by drop?

Time, as most mortals understand it, has little meaning here. A year, a Hundred years, a Thousand, A hundred thousand years, such short periods have meaning only to organic creatures.

Yet, even parts of their dreams can be found here. For as they came from the earth, as Jethro inters them, they return, their bodies becoming the new earth, their memories seeping into the land.

And at last, they exit the Dreamlands, into a realm of living stone and magma lanterns, of stone shaped by gentle nudges and soft taps. Of great doors and magma channels, of hidden forges and crystal lore vaults. And they lay their older brother down, into a bed of lava and crystal.

His mind still locked, his body body still bearing the wounds, he sinks into the lava, and begins the slow process of healing.

[Raz_Fox]

The Fayheran

By me kings reign,
and rulers decree what is just;
by me princes rule,
and all nobles who rule on earth.

The Seventy-Third Song of Haethuz for the Harp, being a Song of the Glory of Fayruz, Princess of the Olm and Maiden of the Healing Waters, first four lines of the twelfth stanza.

Listen, child, and let me tell you of the the days when the Fayheran grew strong and hale. Did you think that our prosperity was ours by right, that our health was grasped by our own strength? No, these were the days when we thought that we would only have the Olm forever, the foundation of our house and the pale spring of our water, the days after the Maiden of Dusk came into her strength.

The world believed that it could break her; she fell, she was enslaved, she was betrayed and tortured and entrapped. In the words of the Scarred King, she punched the rutting world back. The priests of the Fane argue whether this is heresy or not, to speak of the goddess falling to violence, for they say that to make war is not in her nature. I? I remember the stories that say she devoured a dragon and drove out the black glass, and I remember that she is the companion of the Scarred King and his pack. She is a goddess that makes things better, that heals the land and heals the child and endures the pain of the world, and approaches her foes with open hands. But to strike her is to invite destruction.

Her nature is to make the weak strong and the sickly whole, and so we are, we Fayheran who are her people. Your father and your grandfather starved by her side, and when the Greenking taught us how to coax the crops from the earth and how to make the ground rich with water, we became stronger than ever before for our weakness. Your ancestors' blood is mingled with the stones of our great walls, and from the ashes of those who sought our ruin come our crops. The Ghoulking and his hosts came against us and were broken before the walls, the Kobolkhas came against us and were broken in the hill-country of the cattle, the Rolling Glass came against us and was broken by the pits of Amnon by the goddess herself. And so we have become the Fayheran, the people of the goddess, who drink from her springs and keep her commandments.

(These are the words of the goddess: love. This is my command, my burden, my blessing. Do not fear suffering, but take it from those who cannot stand under its weight; the child, the elder, the sickly, the widowed, the broken. Do not be afraid of death; be in awe of life.

Let your heart be free from fear and despair. I am with you; your brothers are by your left side, your sisters have gathered by your right side. Fear not! The dark will pass away, and behold, all things are made new.)

It was seen in the third generation, and we began to see it clearly as the smoke raised itself on the edge of the horizon, as the original descendants of the goddess saw their grandchildren grow into fine young women and men. No more were born blind, no more were born early and sickly, no more fell prey to diseases of youth. And in the flower of youth, we saw the light of their eyes and the strength of their supple flesh, and we knew that they were a generation touched by the songs of our goddess. Health was their birthright and the strength to endure suffering was their sacred endowment, and as a light shining in the glass-mazes will be reflected dimly a thousand times, so too could we see the beauty of our goddess in you.

There is something of her hair in yours, even though it is the beautiful red of the women who once held the secrets of glass, the gift of the Kayanek; it is the richness, the fullness spilling out. And there is much of her inside you, and this is no curse. There is a place for every color of thread in a tapestry, and they can all be perfect despite their differences. So, too, are you and your generation, child.

We pray for you, that you will be able to stand against the sand that consumes. We pray to the goddess, that she will have the strength of her people beneath her songs. We pray, and hope our prayers reach the moon, but know they reach our Fayruz.

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1 MA - Alter the Fayheran. (If I didn't already do this; I did a huge back-trawl that indicated that I didn't. Incidentally, back-trawls are a whole lot harder when you can't just search all your posts in the thread.)

The Fayheran, via a combination of exposure to the Blessed Art and the blessings of the Haller, are altered from normal mortals, becoming more like Fayruz in both her role as Healer and Beloved.

They are naturally healthy and able-bodied, and their bodies are easily brought to peak physical condition; similarly, they have great reserves of inner strength for the purposes of enduring pain or giving of themselves. They are also naturally beautiful, with shapely physiques and lovely faces. The word that sums up what has been given to them best is "Vitality", spilling out in all they do.

The Children

Two children were born in the Olm on the same day, in the same hour. Fate amuses itself in these ways.

One was a boy. His skin was the color of darkened copper, and his hair was thick and black on his head. His mother embraced him, and named him Melshazan, son of Melekan. His father, having just returned from a meeting of the Council in which he was asked to lead an expedition north to secure the copper-mines which had once belonged to the Tekeza, saw this as an omen and accepted the responsibility. Melshazan left the Olm before he was old enough to remember anything of it, let alone call it home.

The other was a girl. Her skin was unnaturally pale, and her thin hair was blue-white. But her father, Hadreken Stonefisted, took her up in his arms and kissed her forehead all the same. He named her Astysa, for as the Phoenix had said to him, one from his line would sit on the throne of Tys, the city of glass which had been lost in days before man. And she grew in the Olm, and came day by day to love it, but she loved the horizon all the more, and saw the shine of glass where the earth met the sky.


Fayruz

There were many things to do, and Fayruz would much rather have one of her dear brothers to do them. If only Frellon had been chosen to seek out this source of mystic wisdom! He would have been able to climb the dream-cliffs, and could have cleaned his swords and began walking in the morning, ready to search from one end of the world to the other. But Fayruz had smoke rising from the south, after decades of peace. Had her expedition to the north already been years ago? Yes, they must have, and the harp she carried on her back was now years old, too. A strange thought to have. It gleamed like a new creation, silver strings unblemished.

So she worked. Every day, healings in the courtyard of the Fane, which was kept clear for that very purpose. (Less and less, now. Perhaps she should wander abroad, as she had been thinking - she should talk with Saven, learn how to travel, ask Shyreza what one brought to be self-sufficient on long journeys, and leave her people in the capable hands of her people. But she had not been there when her people needed her, no, she hadn't, and even if she had forgiven herself for being weak she was still afraid, and the smoke was rising to the sky now, and the courier-lines to the south were daily, every time the message: the sand has not returned. Yet.) Every day, meetings with the Council members, seeking to understand everything about the Olm and the Fayheran, seeing the movement of herds and the come-and-go of crops in her head, watching as numbers became larger and larger and buildings rose. Every moon, journeys to the far corners of their land (not a kingdom, for there was no king; not an empire, for she was not an empress; a dominion, for the land was theirs) to purify, to save, to haggle with spirits and bolster the defenses at the borders. The Orders were doing their best, but they could not be everywhere at once.

Plans were laid out. She sent a courier to Saven, asking him and Shyreza and Gamesha to return from their journey to the west so that she could speak with them on an urgent matter. She spoke to the Council concerning their new settlements, on where to evacuate in the events of a village falling, on what to do if the Olm were taken.

And she took a falcon from a pureblooded Dereg man, whose hands were smoky wrinkles pulled tight over notched bones, and she whispered to this falcon her dream, the entirety and the meaning of it, breath glowing gold in the morning. (It smelled like the air after lightning-stroke, like the cloying scent of incense lit to purify a healer's tent, and like sunlight before dusk.) She tied a ribbon about its foot, and released it to the wind with a promise: where you come to rest, I will follow.

And then, of course, she had something else to do.

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1 ma - create animal messenger.

This falcon was given a task: to find the one who Fayruz heard in her dreams. It was also given a maiden's favor, that she might follow where it leads. The blessing of fortune and of good health is upon it, that it might not be slain before it reaches the one it tirelessly seeks.

[Kasanip]

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Dust. Rust-red dust, mingling with gold. Stones cut oddly, worn by wind. Too large for men to have built what few pillars remain - and here, a wall, its carvings long worn away, cutting apart two sections of the sprawling camp-city. Houses, stone-sided, embroideries over the doors. Tents, wide, narrow, most twice the size of the houses, some open-faced, some closed away.

Listen. Goat trip-trap. The drumming of a boy, the flutework of a faltering man, the crash of a stoneblock falling from its pulley, the shrill scream of a spearhead thrust into shallow water. The rustle of ropes (they scared her in the night) and the susurrous nature of cloth. Wind tossing up dust and sand and heat. The whine of insects that feed on sweat and blood and filth, the hoarse breath of the elder.

If you were keen-eared and knew something of how rhythms played themselves out, and you moved within it while not being a part of it - because no part of the whole can see the whole - you would find the beat it becomes. It is irregular and at the same time repetitious, returning ever and again to its theme. It sounds like humans living to itself.

If you pressed yourself against the maiden who, despite scouring, is the most beautiful woman in the world, you would realize that it is her breath, her heartbeat, her footstep. Or perhaps they are in tune with the rhythm of the Olm. Which one begets the other?

Morning becomes midday. The sisters walk, hand in hand. Blood pumps in veins, feet are pricked and roughened by the rock underneath, the air moves as it should. Lalalalalala, this is the song of being and continuing to be when everything says be not. Midday becomes evening. The sisters stand in market, and the people - dancing to this tune - sit by their fires and spread stories about dragons and goddesses and lalalalalalala, the song continues, and the rifts caused by the fall of the sky close themselves up. Have we not been chosen by the goddess? Did she not, like us, stand up after hardship and woe?

Fayruz was alone and yet not so, there in the market. She looked up at the moon, red filling gold. It used to be silver and white and everything was better, and I had not been hurt, and the people never made art but sat in the darkness waiting. She listened, and smiled slightly, and lets her sister say what must be said. Wounds of the heart must be opened to be healed.

The jewel, blue as seas and dragons and skies, now lay in her hand. When she strokes it, it cries out like a harp. "I dedicate..." The words faded away, and she had to muster them back together, step by step. "I dedicate this, the Seiunju, the Sapphire Harp Stone, to our home made here." Her sister raised it high, and so she knelt, beautiful silk on the cobbles. It touched the earth, and where her sister's rain becomes a never-ending evolution of melody, she coaxes from the jewel's heart a thrumming, so vast and deep that it becomes the sea beneath the stars. "May the melodies of mortals become as beautiful as the choruses of the White City, and may they be a comfort in the dusk where there is only struggle, and pain in the struggle, and power in overcoming." Her pale skin was flushed slightly, and it was a perfect flush. And yet, in her can be seen every woman of the Fayheran, and in them all there is something of her. She is perfect because they are imperfect, and yet in their imperfections they become more like her. "May its song bring rest to the bloodied and peace to the lawless. To us here... may whoever watches over us, the lost, have mercy on our trials. Bring us to our rest safely, knowing we have done all we could."

She took up the harp - there was no change-state between harp and stone, it had always been a stone, and now it was a harp, pale wood and sapphire inlays, and strings of silver fixed to pins of white gold - and ran pale fingers (the dirt was an affectation, a cosmetic on her skin, and yet it was right for it to be there) across them.

The beat of the Olm slowed, and her heart became oh-so-very still. She took up her sister's song, and yet it was changed - the glories of the White City became, at the touch of her fingers upon the strings, ruins of a beautiful age. At the center, the theme repeated, was hope. Hope in the midst of the fall, in the ruins, as she knelt in a marketplace of dyed cloth built on the stones of a temple crumbled away into decay, a twice-broken thrice-standing goddess.

And her heart beat, her breath flowed, her fingers danced to the song.

Sonata listened and felt her heart touched by the song of Fayruz. It was carried and resonated through the Olm, and touched the flowers and the sky, the white moon. The song that touched and resonated with Sonata, and turned a harp and flute from jewels to being, like the deities together, so it was Sonata played the flute, and together wove the song, and sang it with Fayruz, as the white moon shone a blessing in memory of the past. Such was the reminder, and vision for the world, and the song resonated across the disk to siblings.

Oh home so far away
and home so close
the halcyon of tears and hopes
my desert sister plays

Oh home so far away
your burning reminder cannot escape my mind
how we spin revolving
this wheel round and round
where shall we go from now?

All of existences that live
illuminated under the full moon above
what are they singing?
what are they praying for?

though it may be only us who remember
the ancient prosperity, which no storyteller knows
oh birds, oh beasts, oh spirits, oh brothers and sisters,
all fragments of memories,
oh, every single living being
praise the divine miracle of our white home above!

Dance now even beneath this ruined moon
in dim white, reds, and light of snow and sapphire together
oh star-like jewels, spread your light about the raindrops
and shining let rainbow light sparkle,
dance as million butterflies through the night.

The million flowers I promised to you,
my sister, and the rain that falls tears of the ruin
from them nurtured and loved
to all of this and you I pray and together sing,
be blessed with greenness and
that someday life will revolve again
so does the disk, and the beat
of the princesses orphaned
and turning toward the sky,
longing for that homeward journey
may they return there again!

So eternally,
riding on feelings, dreaming continuing,
walking to the end, climbing to the sky,
combining and from two become one,
shall it be, that our song of everything
in this world beneath the white and red moon
The one story and song,
may it resonate forever.

Acts

Spoiler

Show

1 Ceremony with Fayruz to create the Divine Instruments, the Harp of Dusk and Flute of Dawn. Tonight is the miracle of song to tell the story of the world so far.


1 Major Act: Gain Domain: Music

5 Major Acts 2 minor acts 1 ceremony remain


OOC:

Sorry Raz_Fox, it was such a wait. Sorry it became sudden ending. I was too tired to think of way to continue.

Sorry TheDarkDM, I still don't understand what Sonata is supposed to do at the [ancient vault] and what to write.

Probably this is the last song to write for the game, unless to have inspiration. Most inspiration of this song is 「パンタレア」志方あきこ

[Tychris1]

Contragh and Jongo, In Salus

Contragh straightened himself, the energy in his body returning to him at a rapid pace. As he finally re-organized himself he turned back, glancing at the Wraiths who stumbled out of the hut. His unflinching gaze spotting all of them save a single Wraith who dizzily stumbled out through a wall on the back. He growled an order and they quickly lined up in rows behind the two gods. Turning back to Jongo, Contragh smiled and said "Well then Sister, let's not let leave old Haramhold waiting now, hmm? You've been here before, lead the way." The platoon of Wraith's hadn't yet readjusted to the world, but they were certainly doing an admirable job of faking it to appease their lord.

Baz'Auran only knows what would happen to them if Contragh thought they were not living up to their standards.

[Ladorak]

'Frellon can tell you better than I how the others fair. Counting yourself I have seen but four of my siblings since I came to the Disk. Kalandor carries a heavy weight, he is shamed by his possession by the one Frellon calls the Puppeteer, a creature whose aspect sounds disquietingly similar to the Bastard of the Titans, who in turn was too similar to the great black thing that Father wrestled with. Aramar is trapped and in pain, he has been replaced by a fell shadow that calls itself Silvar. When last I saw him he had enlisted Kalandor's aid to free Aramar, yet I have but to stretch out my senses to know this has not yet occurred...
Oh! And you are an uncle now. Haramhold has a mortal daughter. Her name is Amanda and she is as fair of face and bright of mind as her father is brilliant, she is a worthy addition to our family.'

[shorewood]

Together The Weaver, Silvar, Amanda and Haramhold began discussing the designs of the Nexus. The new gods input had already solved some of the more pressing problems that Haramhold had come across. Stopping suddenly Haramhold's head perks up. Someone, no several someone's had just arrived in Salus. Jongo by the feel and something else. It seems that we have more visiters Amanda. Shall we go meet them?" Leading all of those at the dinner who wish to join him Haramhold leaves his tower and heads towards Jongo's house.

[Tychris1]

Family Reunions in Salus

The Divine Conqueror's eyes were ever peeled for signs of danger as he walked alongside Jongo, this had the added benefit of showing Contragh when non hostile people were approaching. At first he had to double check to be certain, but the hulking frame and grizzled working hands of Haramhold were hard to forget. Smiling, Contragh set his bloody axe to the side, opening his arms to greet his brother "Haramhold! You magnificent bastard! This is quite the city you have built. I hadn't expect you of all people to have thrived so well under these conditions, yet you seem to be full of surprises." He moves to hug his worker brother, spiked armor be damned. With the sudden appearance of more divine beings set Pikep off on his usual bloody rampage of curses, pleading, and unhearable muttering or scheming. "And you must be Amanda. Jongo has told me.... Quite more then I had asked for about you, but it would seem you are well enough. And rightfully so, any niece of the 'Great Dragon Lord' is destined for greatness."

Contragh had absolutley no idea who the shadow figure was, but Harmahold and The Weaver weren't attacking it so it was bound to be friendly. Contragh hadn't spent quite as much time with The Weaver as he had with Haramhold and his forge (What with Contragh needing axes and armor more then he needed, say, tapestries) But he still managed a smile and a curtly bow. His ensemble of Wraiths were slightly less open and warm at the sight of possibley 5 or so gods, and as of such they splintered into mini "packs" of Wraiths with their weapons ready to be drawn at a moments notice. One particular pack noticed that Miranda wasn't yet in the city with Haramhold and so their temporary leader stepped forward, tapping his spear against the ground to get his lords attention. He got his ire instead. Contragh glared at the interrupting Wraith, with fiery eyes of hate that could melt skin off of bones, and so the Wraith stepped back; his attempts culled by their Lord's lack of patience.

[HalfTangible]

Distaste

This is a story of the walking dead, the Masked One, and of how our Lord came to detest wizards.

Cha'Tima was a medicine man for the Ulthwe tribe, a young man who was said to be destined for greatness. There was no denying his talent for magic and healing, nor was there denying his drive to learn. By the time he reached adulthood, he had already achieved unparralleled magical abilities, particularly in healing, and sought to expand his knowledge even further, delving deep into magical studies.

Remembering the stories of the Masked One's origin, he sought out the young god and asked him for the location of the tower in which he'd been created. Ouran insisted he did not know where the tower was (though Cha'Tima refused to believed that Ouran would not know the location due to how connected it was to his life), and that even if he did know, the spells learned in such place should stay buried.

Cha'Tima continued to argue fruitlessly with the god, until eventually the Masked One simply shoved him out of the wigwam, proclaiming that if the boy wanted knowledge so badly he should go out and find it himself rather than beg.

Perhaps he should've simply told him to never study the occult again, for Cha'Tima seemed to agree. He stood, pointing at the Masked One, and proclaiming for all the tribe to hear that he would indeed go out and learn magic on his own, and come back to make Ouran pay for refusing to help him.

Kind of stupid, considering I didn't
KNOW where the tower was, and told him so.
-Ouran

Cha'Tima travelled far and wide, meeting many scattered mortal peoples. However, very few searches proved fruitful. Eventually, he came to the land of a people called the Biel-Tan, a tribe of humans that were horrendously sickly. He learned magic from their own mystics and sorcerers in exchange for healing, a talent that strangely proved rare in the land. It was some time before Cha'Tima became concerned by this fact: The further he went, the more sickness he found, and the fewer healers. He had expected to find very few wizards, certainly, but it had been three villages since he'd last seen a medicine man, and now that he looked closely, there were fewer and fewer plants he could use for a mundane cure.

The most alarming of all, however, was how difficult healing was becoming. Before, he practically leaked the spells out of his hands like blood. Now, it had become difficult to even heal a bruise. When he asked the tribesmen about it, they simply laughed and pointed into the distant west, near the coastline. He had avoided travelling to the coast, knowing he might be tempted to go home if he saw the Sea of Jongo again, but he traveled there to see what was so interesting.

He saw a ruined city, standing proudly on the shore...

[Part 2 soon]

[Demidos]

Silvar got up with the others, walking quietly by the side of the other two gods. Where the people pressed close to Haramhold, hoping for a touch of their god, or to the Weaver, hoping for another blessing of the sort that had brought color flooding into Salus, there was a pocket, a small clearing around Silvar where even those who drunkly pushed and shoved their way through the procession dared not enter. Silvar wondered what had happened to the boy that he had blessed, and what would happen to him. It was out of his hands now, in any case.

As they walked, they saw a pair of people turn the corner. Well, these were not people, strictly speaking. The faint golden shimmer around the one and the bone white aura about the other spoke volumes. Jongo and Contragh. Silvar's memories of his siblings were fuzzy, but his memories of those times when Aramar felt angry were clear as a bell, and Contragh figured prominently with his unfocused and somewhat random violence. Silvar saw the need for death as part of the natural cycle more clearly than Aramar, but he still found unnecessary killing distateful. It was no judgement on Contragh though -- it was simply in his nature, which was surprisingly affable (at least towards Aramar, for Silvar couldn t remember anything in specific) towards those he considered equals or family. Silvar still rolled his eyes at the wraiths however. So eager for death. Perhaps it was because of their half state, he wondered idly.

The other one...Jongo was change, and change was an intrinsic part of nature itself. Silvar couldnt remember any times that Aramar had truly been angered by Jongo (except perhaps in that incident with the bees. But that was long in the past). Many of Silvar's memories were therefore fuzzy, and he looked forward to meeting him/her in person.

With these thoughts running through his head, he watched the proceedings quietly. He wasnt much for announcing his presence if it was not remarked upon, and Jongo would quickly bring it up in any case, if he knew Jongo. The thought made him snort with a supressed laugh.

[THEChanger]

Salus-The Tower
As the three gods sat in conference, discussing the particulars of the Nexus, The Weaver felt a twinge in the back in his head. Closing his eyes for a moment, he traced the threads of the world, seeking the source of the disturbance. Examining the tapestry of Salus, The Weaver found several new threads had been suddenly added to the very center of it. Two he knew very well. The wriggling, mutli-colored, shifting thread could only be Jongo, and the solid, gray, unwavering thread beside him felt sharp, and strong as steel. The gray color bleed into the threads surrounding it, making them into smaller versions of itself. If left unchecked, the steel gray thread would make all other threads into something like itself. Only one of The Weaver's siblings was that devoted to control.
Contragh.
Not that The Weaver had anything in particular against Contragh, but somehow the warrior always made him feel uneasy. Still, he had not seen his younger brother in sometime, and The Weaver was immensly excited.

"Oh yes. We must go greet them. I think Jongo has come to visit. And he brought Contragh with him."

Salus-Streets Leading to Jongo's Hut
The Weaver followed Haramhold through the streets, his feet lightly dancing over the cobblestones. Inside, The Weaver was chuckling, wondering how Haramhold would respond to the changes The Weaver had engineered in his city. However, all such thoughts were banished when the three gods met with the newcomers. The Weaver managed to wait exactly twelve seconds before running forward and grabbing Jongo in a bear hug. "Jongo! It's so good to see you again! I was worried something might've happened to you after that business with the Puppeteer, but then I saw the dreams of your children, and they were beautiful, sibling, simply beautfiul. Oh, you wouldn't believe the day I've had. The people of this city are so much fun! And the children have such colorful minds. I taught them a little game, and I rather think they picked it up quickly." After exchanging greetings with Jongo, The Weaver put his elder sibling down, and took a few steps to look Contragh in the eye.

Well, not exactly. After all, Contragh was massive in comparison to The Weaver, and The Weaver had to crane his neck to look at his younger brother's face. "You've grown, Contragh. In more ways than one." The Weaver gazed about at the strange creatures who accompanied his brother. The Wraiths. He remembered them, from the time he spent wandering in the Dreamtime. He saw the nightmares of these creatures, but he had thought they were simply Contragh's guard, and the stories of their rebirth merely stories meant to scare their enemies. But he could see now. Their threads had been cut short, severed and bound to Contragh's own. They were a part of him, as surely as his crown was. "These are yours then. The dreams were true. You have broken the cycle." The Weaver looked at Contragh for a long time, his two eyes sparkling, almost glowing, as though he were wrestling inside his mind with an issue of great importance. In the end, The Weaver merely shook his head, and hugged Contragh gently. "You ought to sleep more, brother. I've missed you."