Heroes of the Fall

[Tychris1]

Chaos and Domination

Contragh laughed and schemed alongside Jongo, pleased with how divinely screwed the Traitor was. However when the topic of Jongo's realm came up he thought for a moment.

Order was self imposing. It wanted to organize everything and take control. It had rules for everything and none could not abide by them.

However, there were rules to rules. And one of them was that every rule had it's exception.

"You say this Kraken is sending beasts into your lands correct? That he refuses to stop and despises what you have made?" Contragh hesitates for a moment at what he was about to say, but a smile grew across his face as his assurance increased "Give him what he wants."

His smile broke out into a blissful grin at being able to give the same advice to his sister, but he quickly continues on "This Kraken is a beast of destruction, of dark feelings and of bitter chaos. Show him who the true master of it is," he points to the outskirts of the Sea of Jongo "Have the currents and the waves grow wild and unabashed, so strong and destructive that any creature that dared pass through would be torn asunder and destroyed. Have these mad currents swiftly change and redirect, becoming calm in an instant as if nothing were to happen only to pick up pace an hour later. Keep the knowledge of the ocean to only you and your Jongoscion, so that your children may come and go as they please."

His smiles turns more wicked as he says "If this Kraken wishes to intrude upon you and act like a beast of chaos, then show him who he is truly dealing with. The firstborn of Baz'Auran, a Lord of that which cannot be controlled." he muses his hand about pointing a finger into the dark depths of the ocean floor, rising from it was a rather disturbing sight. A giant Revenant Megalodon. All that remains of it is it's skeleton, it's wiggly teeth that seem to shift with the water, and the single glowing red dot in one of it's eye sockets. Where it's heart would be is instead a Red spirit fire known amongst the undead Contragh created. "And, if by some miracle they make it pass the destructive currents, then my solemn guard with handle with them. Revenants need not eat or sleep, breathe or stop. They are relentless, and will follow a single goal until it is either finished or they have been worn to dust. I can tell your not fond of these beasts, but they are the most numerous and powerful corpses available. With the defences set for your Sea, the rest of it will remain in perfect peace, your Jongoscion will never even have to see my guards, lest they venture out of the Sea of Jongo."

Contragh turned towards the Megalodon, it easily dwarfed the two gods and could swallow Contragh whole if it wished. Looking upon it Contragh beckons it closer and taps it on the forehead, sentience flows through it's dark and unilluminated mind, and it's single red dot for an eye expanding to 3 times it's size before frantically looking about for a moment "Tell me Revenant, what is your name." The Megalodon floated there, staring the god down before slowly saying in a raspy and brutish voice "....Snaggle-tooth" Nodding his head Contragh addresses the Megalodon "Then I address you with the task of guarding the Jongoscion and the Sea of Jongo. Let none pass the outskirts of it. That is your charge." The Megalodon nods its head and begins to float away towards the outskirts of the Sea of Jongo "So brother, what do you think?"

Act Expenditure:

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1 Minor Act: Make a lvl 14 character: Snaggle-tooth, the Revenant Megalodon.

[Erik Vale]

To Queery... A... Ok, I don't know, just that it's smart.

Scha'Mane stared into the hole.

"Greetings. I in humble suplication, ask for knowledge, and offer of myself."
"Greetings speaker. I don't have all day so get to it. Name"
"Speaker."
"Ahh... A smart Shaman... It has been a while."
"Will you lend me your title?"
"Yes. You may call me responder."

Only the hidden deadlyness of the conversation kept him from laughing.
"And I know what you ask. No, we did not take them... They.... Silpped."
"Slipped?"
"What is your race?"
"Those marked of bestial herritage."
"Hmmph... Older shamans always have a greater connection. Something happened and the veils between worlds thinned, and in ritual some fell through accidentally. They do not enjoy their stay, but they can no longer leave."
"Why did they slip?"
"Specie? No-"
"Mintou, you might want to pay attention."
"Well, None of us know, at least, none of those I talk to. Nothing for nothing, that atleast apeals to your mortal idea of fairness."
"Did something else happen that you noticed at the same time."
'What is your fathers name."
"It is not known, he gave the name Wak'Fruk, but such is things that it may not be so."
"Hmmm. Yes, a greater intrusion and a powerful sending, the sending was watch. It is believe the intrusion was an accidental byproduct, but whoever it was, has yet to be found."

Scha'Mane's heart thudded in his chest.
"Can you sense Kalandor."
"You seek for the traveling god, who chooses to wax and wane himself? A dificult task."
"I offer the name of my birth, should you know, or a cry of grattitude should you not."
"He... Hmmm, a key, this is concluded, release me on pa-"

The portal closes instantly as all the shamans stop on hering the words, there was much to be discussed...

What does a poor man own, That no rich man has?
And meanwhile, accross dimensional barriers, a lowly fey, veiwed by men to be of godly power but barely noticed in its home, rocked on it's feet, thinking.

'I know something no one else does. Or do they, perhaps he knows but does not say... Who would I seek rewards from? Why would he not come out? Or flee... He would not flee without giving us company.... But he couoldn't hide well enough here. But how close was he to the shamans beastial?.. And I could see something in that child, could it be.'

The fey looked to one side, a slow Noooo uttering from it's lips. But then a smile. It wouldn't retry communication, or a world slip just yet, but it could take a peek, follow the sugar trail.

[The_Snark]

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Note: this post continues where I left off here, and is something of a flashback at this point in time. Subsequent posts will move ahead quickly to get Nieve and followers up to date, I hope.

Of Those Left Behind

Out they spread from Brymhide Isle, like ripples from a stone cast into a still pond: fishermen and sheepherders, reavers and bandits, weavers and huntsmen, the chiefs and petty-kings who had ruled the barrowlands and those who had cast them down, all fled the shores of the island. They left on fishing-boats, on rafts woven from reeds and sinew and hope, on crude log-ships and tiny coracles. Madness had taken the isle; the followers of the Red Moon—lost, deprived of victims, bereft of their goddess—fell upon one another, and those who did not flee in their prey's wake were destroyed. Brymhide Isle now lies fallow, a tomb above and below. The wind and the rain blow over empty hills, and the earth slowly swallows the lonely houses of Man.

The ocean was not kind to those who fled. Sunstroke, storms, ravenous thirst and implacable hunger; all these and more stalked the waves, claiming victims from innocent and bloodstained alike. But a few survived, graced by cleverness or fortune. They came ashore in the lands to the north, where the Chil'R and the last of the Orcs roam; they came ashore in the west where Titans and men dwell in the shadow of Markien; they landed across the Burning Strait, taking the towering spire at the center of the world as their guiding star. Some few found their way to the Sea of Jongo in the far south, and from there to the distant lands of Irae and Salus. But greatest were those who came to Brymhide's sister isle to the south, which in later years would be called Ceroden.

They came to their new homelands with empty bellies and hard hearts, refugee and warrior alike, and the lessons of Nieve lived in their heart.

Of Those Who Journeyed Beyond

No wind blew upon the sea, for wind is the living breath of the world, and this world belonged to the dead.

The ocean was flatter than any ocean had a right to be, a glassy plane of endless grey reflecting the sunless sky above. From horizon to horizon, only one blot marred its perfect stillness: a boat. Perhaps it belonged there; certainly no living ship had sails that limp and ragged, nor so many holes in its listing hull. But the men and women aboard it were alive. Their breath stirred the empty air, and their paddles churned the waters of the dead, leaving in their wake a trail of ripples and eddies which spread slowly across the surface of the sea, widening and weakening until at last they succumbed to the peace of the Quiet Lands.

Who can say how long the journey across those seas took? No stars marked their passage, and the hazy light that illumined their path did not fade and return as the sun does. They knew neither hunger nor thirst; for a time they did not know whether this was owed to some quality of the strange place they found themselves, or because it had been less than a day since they left the shores of their home. For Brymhide's folk, long pressed by war and famine, it was easy to lose themselves in the serenity of the place, working their oars and gazing contentedly at the meeting of dusky sky and leaden sea on the far horizon. Hard hearts rested. Hours slipped away, and then days, and perhaps more.

Only Nieve remained at all perturbed. At times she paced the deck, peering ahead as though searching for something; at other times she grabbed a paddle, lashing the sea as if by fury alone she could propel the boat to its destination. They knew not where they were going, only that something in this empty world called out to the goddess, a point of light in a sea of grey.

[shorewood]

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All this took no more than a second, yet for The Weaver it seemed an eternity. His eyes flashed open, and breathing heavily, he released Silvar's hand. "This shadow is who he says he is. The connection between our brother Aramar and this one is strong. I believe, however, that I must pay a visit to our brother after I bid you goodbye, Haramhold." The Weaver seemed deeply troubled by Silvar's arrival, and by the divine spark within Amanda. However, his face quickly changed, a smile of eagerness scourging away any doubt which had been there before. "But! I digress. We both heard your call, Haramhold. Is there some matter we might help you with?"

Motioning for his brothers to follow Haramhold lead them onto Green MorningStar. "When Jongo first visited me half a century ago, we needed some form of reliable transportation, so we created this fine ship together. It can reach anywhere on the disc in a matter of days, but days are more than enough time for those under our protection to be brought to ruin. When we sailed to the Olm a great beast known as the kraken summoned a storm no mortal could long outlast, it is why I was so quick to depart from our sisters hospitality. By the time I returned a full third of those under my protection had fallen. So I erected this realm to hold off the Kraken's wrath. But the realm's strength is drawn from its inhabitants and although Jongo has quieted the storm the Kraken remains." Pausing only to withdraw the gangplank Haramhold nods to Amanda and as the airship once again takes off "The Kraken is mighty and i cannot foresee a way to defeat it. If I were to leave this place for any length of time I fear that the beast would return and destroy all that I have accomplished. But what if Fayruz needs aid once again or the Titans finally commence their invasion against Carolinus. Thus I have become trapped between two sources of duty; a prisoner who has forged his own gilded chains. What I ask of you is to help me craft the Nexus, an inter-dimensional hub to connect the far flung places of the disc so that hundreds of thousands of miles of hazardous travel might become a short peaceful stroll. With it we would be able to come to each others aid with unmatched swiftness and return before the enemies that lurk at the edge of our domains even know we are gone."

[Demidos]

Silvar listens attentively, head cocked to one side as he idly twirls a small wisp of shadow in his fingers.

So we would be able to be travel outwards from this...Nexus? Would we also be able to travel inwards as well, or directly between the strands? How exactly would the energy that transported us work? Direct portals, or by speeding us up to the point where our travel was nearly instant? Its an intriguing idea, but how fleshed out is it as of the moment.

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

Vanara looks directly into Carolinus' eyes, a bold attempt to stare down a god.

I think you misunderstand the nature of my people. We do not feed on such base fare as your folk, nor do we see a need for unprovoked violence -- it is true that he whom we worship is quick to retaliate, and, it is also true, we were made in his image, but we have not been accosted in your fair city other than such occasions as I have mentioned. We have no need to kill your folk -- why would we do so? We were charged with the protection of your civilians.

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Insight into the mind of Vanara:
Vanara is rather prickly, but also pretty intelligent. Every word she speaks is literally true. She does, however, see no point in angering Carolinus by telling him that the Silviari have wiped the minds of many of the criminals that they have encountered on their forays through the city, effectively erasing all the violent parts of their lives and making them a new and better person. Of course, this is still an imprecise science, and so some normal civilians must have some small portion of their lives taken, inconsequential "filler" memories, no more than twenty minutes or so -- lacking this filler, the Silviari risk being warped by the concentration of violence in many of the memories that they ingest.

While Vanara is clear on the fact that Carolinus in all likelihood would disapprove, she is not a coward (to the point of overbearing pride). She avoids sounding like a vigilante or mentioning the memory loss, but if directly addressed on the point she will answer quite truthfully (and without shame, seeing it as an unavoidable necessity (concerning the civilians) or a good deed (concerning the criminals.)

[AntiMatter101]

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Carolinus smiled again. In the last few hours with Frellon he had smiled more than in the last few decades. He gazed at his brother with hidden fondness for his absent mindedness.

He stepped back from his brother, displaying both his arms. He lifts the shimmering black and bronze shield highest 'This is Black Buttress. I formed it myself, my first act having earned my Spark. The shadow is the foul beast I spoke of. The Bastard of the Titans. A great manshaped thing of shadow, not dissimilar to that which father battled upon our leaving. He enslaved tens of thousands, I will never know the exact number for I slew so many. They had no choice, and neither did I. I know that I saved 9,534 of them. It was his cruelty that saved me... Had he made it quick it would have been. But when he detected my weakness he wanted to bleed me... And he did. He was made foolish by his might, a lesson I have not forgotten.

He turned and displayed the power of his symbol. Black fire arced out into the crisp mountain air, shadowy tendrils slashed through solid rock. 'The Bastard was a thing created by father in part, a thing immortal beyond ourselves. It could not die, and lingered near the site of it's slaying. So instead I transformed it into something of better purpose. Even should it fall from my hand, Black Buttress can only be used in defence of the defenceless. One day the Beasts of Chaos will not held sway over the Disk and it will blaze with fire instead of dour shadow. I named it after the place of the Titans two deaths, the site of my greatest victory.'

Putting aside Black Buttress he drew forth the Sword of the Titans and allowed Frellon to examine the blade 'This is the Sword of the Titans. Truly it is beautiful, as much such a deadly thing is able. It is beautifully balanced too, you see yourself it's razor edge. I judge it equal to any sword I held in the White City, where perfection is thought and not earnt. He offered the hilt to Frellon 'You really have to try the weight and balance yourself.'

'It was given to me when peace was made between Markien and the First People and untold thousands spared. It is in-keeping with my experience of the Disk that this confused duality exists. My shield is the symbol of my greatest feat of arms, my sword is the symbol of my greatest act of peace.'

Frellon’s eyes widened in appreciation of the shield’s power and legacy, but his awed sense of reverence was reserved for the blade.

Frellon accepted the sword, running an expert finger down its length, testing the edge without getting cu-

Hey!

Stepping back, Frellon hefted the blade with his un-cut hand. Its balance was indeed perfect. Going through the motions of a brief series of swings, his admiration only deepened. He returned the blade to Carolinus with the utmost care.

“This blade is more than remarkable, it’s shockingly sharp, and has a power to it I’m hard pressed to describe! It feels old, ancient, and yet is in absolutely perfect condition! I’m practically salivating!”

Frellon laughed, revealing his jest. Idly binding his finger with a small bandage he retrieved from his pack. It seemed as though performing this task was performed automatically, without thought, Frellon was used to worse wounds, indeed, upon a close examination, and one might note he had a few more scars than he did at the White city. Yet it had not seemed so slow him down one iota.

“My own sword is not so grand, yet it suits me well.” Frellon patted the hilt of his own blade, it was warm to his touch, and pulsed gently with the Spirits housed within.


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The Spirits flitted just over the ocean surface. Having left the coastline far behind, they made agonizingly slow but steady progress over the seemingly endless sea. It had been many nights since they last saw Frellon, but their determination burned as brightly as ever.

The spray from the ocean passed right through their forms without incident, but had been bombarding their charge. It was beginning to take its toll on the ancient piece of wood, keeping it soaked was not the healthiest of things for it.

[shorewood]

"I have been working on the designs for the past forty years I will show you the exact details when we reach my study; although there are still some aspects which I have yet to unravel. I do wish that Rumel was here he'd have been able to solve these problems decades ago." Haramhold said with longing in his voice "Have either of you heard any news from The Mechanic?"

[Tectonic Robot]

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The Digger & The Earth

Jethro straightened himself up as much as possible, until the hunch protruding from his back simply prevented him from standing at his full possible height. Such was the lot of a Gravedigger, amongst other things.

"Llassar, please, calm yourself. I have much to tell you."

Realizing the implication of his words, Jethro instead took a seat on the bed.

"This... is what happened, to me, to her, and why I am here, now."

From there on, he slowly began to describe everything which had happened. First, his sudden departure into the Twilight, the discovery of his ancestors within, the lantern, the revealing of the Quiet Lands, the broken and disembodied spirits he found within, and the mass of them weeping over the dead Goddess.

"I... don't know what killed her. I merely found her, her servants, and the dead surrounding a small, broken cottage. They didn't know what had happened either. No one did."

Jethro looked at Llassar, in both the eyes of an old man and a sister who once was.

"I couldn't leave her there, and the reincarnation process was already stalled long enough with the dead mourning over her. So... I took her, and stepped into the flames of reincarnation."

Jethro paused a moment to look at his hand. Worn, old hands, yet bursting now with a radiant light within that only he and his new divine kin could see.

"And I fell to the earth, with her spark rekindled inside of me..."

His gaze fell upon the God in front of him one last time.

"I am... so sorry. She truly loved you as a brother, Llassar."

Llassar listened carefully to Jethro's words, and sat next to him. The god of the community, family and closeness, did not take the death of his sister lightly. "Dead, dead, dead... who could have done this? Who would have done this? Avyra, Avyra... we were never so close, you know. It is... heartening to hear she loved me. There will be a funeral... my family needs to hear of this."

Llassar stared pensively into his hands, folded neatly for a few moments, body slumped with a brief wave of emotion. Finally, he turned back towards Jethro: "A truly grand funeral, yes... I don't think you, in your entire story, have once mentioned your name. You have Avyra's spark, well... you're part of the family now. I have much to tell you."

And Llassar told Jethro, in return for his tale of ascension and death, about the White City. Llassar was not like Sonata, who's skill at telling stories was without peer, but his voice was rich and steady, and raised a yearning for peace and stability that had been lost by the darkness. He told of the spirits, the bounty, of Baz'Auran, and of his siblings.

Finally, he said: "You have the spark of death in you; that's sure to be a thankless task. Before you get to regulating it, why don't you feast with us? In honor of a new member of the family... even if it comes at an awful price."

[TechnOkami]

"Ah yes, my name..." Jethro said to himself.

"It's Jethro. Jethro Fossarius."

Jethro then sat for the remainder of Llassar's explanation, listening to the original fall of the children of Baz'Auran, and what they have done while here on the surface. After his mention of his new found role as the God of Death, Jethro spoke one last time.

"True... but I can always confide in the Twilight. The cycle of Death and Rebirth will always function; I'm just here to make sure nobody messes with it further than it's been messed with. Now then..."

Jethro reached for his hat, which soon found its way snugly fit around his cranium.

"...has this happened before? A man obtaining the spark of a God?"

[Erik Vale]

Memories of a Seeker
Scha’Mane sits as he waits for the ritual to conclude. He is clothed head to toe in the most armour like of a shamans robes, a hard-wood staff gasped in hand, patience was his virtue.
At the moment, in his calm, he remembered the argument they had about sending him.
“It is obvious that someone needs to go.”
“And who would you have go young one? Are you so eager to risk your elders?”
“You are a fool to think that. Can’t you see he wishes to prove himself.”
All conversations stopped for a moment.
“You have yet to go on your voyage also. Would you have this your vision quest.”
Scha’mane stopped. His heart thundered in his heart.
“Yes.”
“Then it is decided, unless one would challenge my will as head shaman?”
The room was filled with uncomfortable silence.
“Good, it id decided. Scha’Mane will go-“
And then the thought ended as he was sent between worlds.

---

Who Dares Walk Alone?
‘Do you dare walk in the woods?
Do you dare swim in the lake?
Can you walk in the dark
And come out once more?’
Poet Schlenora Vethket.

His feet buckled, spinning with stave out Scha’Mane cleared the area around him as he got his bearing.
And now he stood, alone in the woods in the cold cold night of an alien world, one of danger beyond the possibility of mortal prediction. A place the gods themselves would find challenge.
And he was simply a shaman?

---

A Clash of Dreams and Memories
"What is the sum of Man?"
Many, many Philosophers
Kalandor as Elanor walked through the Cave, his/her wandered as fine hands gripped a masterwork glaive, fare beyond the craftsmanship of man.
And then He/She spun, the glaive swung out, and Azath struggled to dodge the blow, sliding under as Elanor danced away, spinning the glaive.
"Who are you."
"Someone come to the aid of your victems."
That at least, was something that was true, even as the question silently rocked Kalandor's core, as it struggled to reach for memories.

[Kasanip]

Sonata and Fayruz at The Olm
"Let Us Sing."

As the dragons disappeared into the distance, before Fayruz's beauty could be turned sorrowful with worry or dark thoughts of the warning, a gentle hand came to her shoulder, and Sonata gave a comforting smile as she watched beside her sister, the disappearing dragons.

"Though the darkness is before the horizon, dearest sister, I cannot see your face turned to sadness again." She hesitated, and took Fayruz's hands gently, leading her to look back at the Olm, the softening purple and red sky of the evening spreading out the wonders of color on the walls and roofs. And as she led Fayruz gently through the streets, she spoke wistfully.

"Do you remember, dearest sister, when a wrong note was played, what it was the conductor always said?" Sonata's smile turned mysterious, a shared memory as night fell. And she released Fayruz's hands for a second, climbing gracefully the stairs as her dress swirled about in the twilight.
And she pointed carelessly to the rising red moon, and with three words
"Continue to play.", so the moon seemed to glisten if only a little brighter and more purely.
And she turned in her spin to be beside Fayruz again, taking her hand gently towards the market square. And the sounds of the busy ending day and people seemed quiet and tranquil beneath the moon, so that it was only Sonata and Fayruz who stood there.

"Do you remember, dearest sister, the motions of the Elude to Heaven?
Can we not find that comfort again, and turn it's song here, let it echo in the Olm, like 8 million birds and flowers?

I would play this song, but only together." And her hand held Fayruz's tightly as Sonata's face turned to the moon and hidden from her sister, though it could be heard emotionally.

"We, who fell from our home above... I feared what had been lost. But now, I have found things in this world. And I have found you, and the others again.

And now I know why I sing. Something that had escaped me, while used to I watch your harp and played my flute. When you stood at the banquets, and those times I fought with Nieve. The peaceful things, the hopeful and light and pure things that were there. And my heart aches for what we lost that day. But it isn't gone. We still have it, in these memories and in our hands and voices, and that is very precious to me." She turned back to Fayruz, and hugged her.

"I can still hear your beating heart, and breathe, and the loving, joyful song that is you. And that is sacred." She chocked on the words emotionally, and pulled back, her tears hidden with a smile that was so genuine to remind of the white moon, and not of foxes or dragons, or falling, or humans.

"Let's play a concert together. You and me, the princesses of the White City, of Dusk and Dawn. Let us play together and for one night here, let it be without sadness and misery, without pains or worries. Let us return the moon's beauty, and be at peace for one night more. So that tomorrow will be brighter, and so that we may celebrate, if only for these little joys and blessings." She touched her forehead to Fayruz, and then placed into her hand the sapphire jewel she had received from the dragon lord. And in this tender moment she also revealed the red jewel she held. And she whispered to her sister.
"That is Seiunju, the Blue Cloud Jewel, given to me with it's twin sister Sekiunju, Red Cloud Jewel, by the Dragon Lord who watches my domain. Someday may it be you will come to visit me. But for you, I would give this jewel, for we are the same."

She stepped back, and held the jewel to the sky.
"I dedicate this Sekiunju to my Home in the Moon, so Far Away, may it's melody forever ring truly in the hearts of my family, and of all who hear it's memories of our past." And there seemed to be rain around her singing it's melody, but the raindrops were as diamonds, each with their own unique note as a chorus, and the rain washed over her like the many shared and shed since the fall, and under their feet, the market suddenly was a grassy field, and where the white diamond rain fell grew white flowers gently.
The Sekiunju as it was hit with this diamond rain sang it's own song, and as Sonata held it to her lips, and breathed into it, changed and began to become a flute.

[HalfTangible]

It's so easy when you're Ego

Althra slapped aside the well-cooked salmon. I hate fish! She spat. Bring me your beef! She sat down on her throne carved from stone and covered in sheepskin as the young supplicant left the tent, shoulders sagging. She scratched her neck, grumbling about an itch.

Silence had fallen around the village as her subjects settled in for the night. It was calm and quiet, and the world was at peace. She knew it to be so - everything had gone exactly as it should be. She had made herself leader of these people with an impressive display of magic, and she was on her way to becoming a goddess in her own right.* Everything in the world was perfect, and she deserved everything it had to offer for slaying that little abomination Ouran and tossing him into the sea.

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*I started laughing right here. I am sooo glad this character is supposed to be this mind-boggingly over-the-top arrogant. Otherwise this would be terrible and lazy characterization.

...

>.>

...

<.<

...

>.>

...

...shut up!

---

Idiot and Idiot, messin' with a tree

Oh gods this hurts!

No no no, lift with your knees, not your back!

You have any idea how hard it is to lift a tree?! You could've at least helped me pull it out of the ground!! Why are these roots thicker than the actual trunk anyway?!

They're not. Those are part of the trunk.

Ugh, this is pointless...

Hey, it's YOUR archnemesis! She tortured you, made your life a miserable living hell!

This was still YOUR idea!

The pink-purplish snake thing turned her head away in a huff. Well maybe I felt the need to give you some closure on the matter. Coming here may have been my idea but throwing a tree was your idea.

The raccoon scowled as the tree above his head sank further down, giving the false impression it was squishing his head. I didn't think you'd take it seriously! How am I even supposed to throw it that far?!

You're a shapeshifter, boy! Physical limits mean nothing to you! Change your muscles so they're stronger and throw the thing!

Ouran's knees immediately buckled and the tree crashed down on top of him.

...Er, try doing the opposite of whatever you just did.

My leeeeg...

Oh just stitch it back into one piece, you big baby!

---
Trees. My god.

Althra was as egotistical as they come (or more accurately as they DON'T come) but she wasn't a complete idiot. As a habit she kept spells on her to protect herself from enemy attack.

So when a tree suddenly shattered the tranquility of her perfect night by crashing into her tent, it shattered her shield and didn't do much more than piss her off.

Fire leaped into her hands and danced around her arms. Her glare was absolutely livid as she searched for her assailant. Who dares challenge me?! I am Althra, goddess of- -Being a total ****?

A bolt of fire flashed in the direction the words had come from, exploding in the forest behind the camp and setting it alight. As her servants gathered around her, she pointed into the burning woods. Find the little bitch.

The villagers dispersed into the woods to find the 'little bitch' that had spoken. Althra stayed at the camp, fire burning along her arms and in her hands. She had nothing to fear, she reminded herself.

A hawk suddenly dropped from the sky and slammed right into her face, schreeching in rage as it tore at her eyes. Althra grabbed the hawk with one flaming hand and threw into into a nearby tree, which she then set aflame. The scream of pain from the poor creature's mouth was music to her ears... for the six seconds or so it continued before turning into giggly laughter.

She whirled to face the tree to find the hawk gone. In it's place was a bright purple jackal. She brought up both of her hands and streamed flames at the creature, but it just laughed. She stopped and found that the land around the jackal burned, but the creature itself did not.

You act too rashly, wizard. Sihlk said cheerfully. Do you think I am alone?

Althra suddenly fell over as something rammed into her head at a speed too great to measure. Her shield stopped the damage but she could not remain standing. As the wizard pulled herself to her feet, she saw a raccoon standing next to the pink serpent.

Althra snarled. You dare strike me?!

'Dare' implies your superiority. The raccoon said coldly. But every action you have taken suggests otherwise.

Althra pulled herself to her feet. You think yourself ABOVE me, you little rodent?

The 'raccoon' cocked an eyebrow. You still think I'm a raccoon. Yet you think I'm a rodent. Brilliant, little pink weasal.

Don't you mock me!! She roared, fire in her hands flaring up. What are you here for, little rat?!

To kill you, of course.

Althra sneered. Really.

Well, technically, SHE is the reason I'm here. He pointed to Sihlk. She taught me how to maintain my form, and in exchange I had to come back here and kill ya for what you did to me.

I have no idea who the little snake is or-... wait. What I did to YOU? Her eyes narrowed. So who're YOU then?

Aw, you don't recognize me? I'm almost hurt, Althra. You don't recognize your old mistake? The old mistake you pumped with potions until he could barely move? The one you tried to drown but didn't bother to find a body for? Your old mistake that you never learned from?

...YOU!! Althra shoved her open palm forward at Ouran and a wall of flame rushed towards him.

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I wanted this to be the last one. Then i realized how big it was getting and that this was a good spot to stop.

One more... ONE more!!... I hope

[THEChanger]

Salus

The Weaver gazed off into the sunlight as the massive ship took off. The feeling of wind rushing past his ears, tearing off his hood and exposing his head, was incredible. Flight was truly one of the greatest experiences in this world. His twin eyes sparkled for a moment-but immediately turned dark when his brother mentioned Rumel.

"There have been no dreams of Rumel, brother. Not by mortals, not by our family. That does not mean he is not alive. But it does mean that, if he is, he is alone." The Weaver continued to stare off into the sun, his eyes somehow not reflecting its brilliant light. It would make for a wonderful painting. Or a tapestry. He had no time to weave as of late. So much was occuring. So many things changing. Jongo must be having the time of his life.

"I fear for our siblings, brother. Aramar disconnects himself from the world, and Brandis has lost his spark among the mortals, I fear. Rumel has not been seen since the fall, and Rose's spark appears only in brief spurts-though whether that is her intent, I cannot say. And Avyra...I feel her spark in this world. But not hers any longer, not quite. It is something very different now. Our family has shrunk."

The Weaver then turned, to regard Silvar. "And yet, it grows. You, shadow, are a part of Aramar, and how could I count you as anything other than sibling? And Torvaag, who was sent to my realm by Jongo, feels like an uncle to me. This world changes, and our family changes with it."

He smiled, and pulled his hood back over his face, once more obscuring everything but his eyes. "This idea of the Nexus is a good one. I will aid how I can."

[AntiMatter101]

Salus, Outskirts

The spirits saw land!

After days of relentless travel over such a featureless plane, with only the draw of duty to guide them, seeing land raised their spirits.

It seemed their journey was not over yet however, even upon reaching the shore, their destination was not yet in sight.

It took another day's constant travel for them to finally glimpse Salus in the distance.

The city had large walls surrounding it, the scope and scale of them becoming apparent only as they got closer. They felt drawn to the city, certain that was their destination.

They flitted up to the wall, and-... slammed into its side? This was an object they could not pass through? Remarkable!

However, such a curiosity must wait, they realized, because they still had a task to perform; and they sensed that it lay on the other side of this curious wall.

Rising up, the six spirits crested the wall, and looked about for someone to speak with, the broken, sea-crusted, pieces of wood held between them.

[TheDarkDM]

Bind the Sky in Darkness

Melos laughed in delight as Sonata began her song, his own melody seeming to fade as she wove her epic, her ballad of the Fall that shattered the sky and sent a rain of stars upon their secluded battleground. But the smile never left his black eyes, and even as they bloomed Sonata's flowers withered and died. The heartbeat of her rhythm turned cold, and Melos's song emerged once more, twined around hers like a serpent. The memory of the white city crumbled before a darkness from beyond the stars, the selfsame darkness that lurked in Melos' eyes. And as he sang, whispers upon the wind began to respond, a ghostly chorus summoned up from the dying gasp of Sonata's petals.

His song pressed tighter, and dream turned to nightmare. With every refrain of hopeless flight, a chain wrapped around Sonata's song, bearing down the heavenly melody to hellish reality, and beyond. She fought as only a daughter of Baz'Auran could, every note of her song severing one of Melos' foul bonds, but for all her lifetimes of mastery she could not match the complexity of his tone, the elaborate pattern of his beat. Sonata was an artist unmatched by all the gods, yet as the song wore on she began to realize she had stumbled into a trap laid by a master among masters.

She did not remember standing, did not remember striding forwards against the maelstrom of his song. Yet Sonata found herself not more than a foot away from those terrible eyes, gleaming like steel in firelight. His fingers moved to fast to be seen, produced notes no harp could hope to match, only to stop. A fraction of time, yet Sonata's song surged forwards into the breach - into the noose. He strummed once more, accompanying it with a note of such dreadful beauty that Sonata would have been moved to tears had she not been thrown from the tree branch, thrown down among the crumbled remains of dead flowers. Her song ceased, and Melos' trailed off into memory. He drifted down from his perch, and as he did the trees began to shrink, mighty sentinels twisting back into the shapes of foxes and men.

"Thank you, my Lady. It has been some time since I heard a sound to rival my own. But you have fallen against the First Song, and by ancient oath I demand a boon."

He blinked, and his eyes were brilliant blue again, a cruel mask that mocked her with it's child's smile. Leaning down, he reached down his hand to help her up, harp disappearing with a twinkle.

"Shall we?"

[Ladorak]

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Vanara looks directly into Carolinus' eyes, a bold attempt to stare down a god.

I think you misunderstand the nature of my people. We do not feed on such base fare as your folk, nor do we see a need for unprovoked violence -- it is true that he whom we worship is quick to retaliate, and, it is also true, we were made in his image, but we have not been accosted in your fair city other than such occasions as I have mentioned. We have no need to kill your folk -- why would we do so? We were charged with the protection of your civilians.

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Insight into the mind of Vanara:
Vanara is rather prickly, but also pretty intelligent. Every word she speaks is literally true. She does, however, see no point in angering Carolinus by telling him that the Silviari have wiped the minds of many of the criminals that they have encountered on their forays through the city, effectively erasing all the violent parts of their lives and making them a new and better person. Of course, this is still an imprecise science, and so some normal civilians must have some small portion of their lives taken, inconsequential "filler" memories, no more than twenty minutes or so -- lacking this filler, the Silviari risk being warped by the concentration of violence in many of the memories that they ingest.

While Vanara is clear on the fact that Carolinus in all likelihood would disapprove, she is not a coward (to the point of overbearing pride). She avoids sounding like a vigilante or mentioning the memory loss, but if directly addressed on the point she will answer quite truthfully (and without shame, seeing it as an unavoidable necessity (concerning the civilians) or a good deed (concerning the criminals.)

'Your obfuscation is obvious, and very unwise.' Suddenly the sword of the titans is beneath Vanana's eyes, the tip pressed against her neck. So fast was the movement of the god she had not seen the blade move, only hearing in warning the metallic screech of the cut air. 'I have not yet shed blood with this blade, nor would I will it. Yet at every turn my hand is forced.' He stepped close and hissed in her ear 'Know, that if we were not kin of a kind, you would already be dead. Child of my brother's shadow, I give you back your life.'

With a straight armed shove he sent her arcing backward onto the cold marble floor. 'Tomorrow you and yours will leave Markien. You will never return. These are the laws of the life I have returned to you. Break them and that life will end.'

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[QUOTE=AntiMatter101;14094278]

Frellon’s eyes widened in appreciation of the shield’s power and legacy, but his awed sense of reverence was reserved for the blade.

Frellon accepted the sword, running an expert finger down its length, testing the edge without getting cu-

Hey!

Stepping back, Frellon hefted the blade with his un-cut hand. Its balance was indeed perfect. Going through the motions of a brief series of swings, his admiration only deepened. He returned the blade to Carolinus with the utmost care.

“This blade is more than remarkable, it’s shockingly sharp, and has a power to it I’m hard pressed to describe! It [i]feels[/] old, ancient, and yet is in absolutely perfect condition! I’m practically salivating!”

Frellon laughed, revealing his jest. Idly binding his finger with a small bandage he retrieved from his pack. It seemed as though performing this task was performed automatically, without thought, Frellon was used to worse wounds, indeed, upon a close examination, and one might note he had a few more scars than he did at the White city. Yet it had not seemed so slow him down one iota.

“My own sword is not so grand, yet it suits me well.” Frellon patted the hilt of his own blade, it was warm to his touch, and pulsed gently with the Spirits housed within.

'You do your blade a disservice brother, it's beauty is equal, merely different from my own. You wear it well, and well does it suit you.' He stroked his chin in throught, a habit well known to Frellon, common when Carolinus was removed from Cireo's path 'I would show you Markien brother, yet I do not know where to start. They are places of untouched beauty in the north, or if you've a thirst our vineyards are much recovered since the war. Mayhap you would care to rest, if so there is a town nearby. Or if you'd see your new home we'll to Sanctuary, you'll like it there I think. I crafted it in the style of the balcony in Baz'Auran's garden, the one near the great fountain. It was our favourite place, Ciero and I, and I recall you also fond of it.'

[TheDarkDM]

Torvaag and the Darkness

The blast lit the skies of the dreamscape, engulfing Torvaag and his opponent in warm yellow light. As it faded, it left a calm in the air, a deep stillness broken only by the fleeing forms of dozens of Forge Born. Torvaag grinned in exultation, before his gaze was drawn back to the land before him. The dreamscape was a blasted ruin, the land around him driven into a deep crater, but at its lips stood a singular figure. Torvaag could see no details, for while human shaped the thing was flickering and indistinct, but as he laid eyes on it he felt something he'd not experienced in all his long years - terror. Absolute, primal terror welled in his heart without reason or warning, every fiber of his being begging him to flee, to save himself. Yet his feet would not answer, and as he stood rooted in the midst of the destruction that was salvation, the dark figure raised its hand.

At once, the crushing darkness surged forth, a tidal wave of shadow and devouring silence that drove all remnants of light and warmth from the sky. It struck Torvaag like the hammer of Baz'Auran himself, sending him flying into the air and away from the prison of the Forge Born. He landed hard, his molten body cracking with the impact, but as he lay defeated he saw something that made it all worthwhile. More than a hundred Forge Born spirits stood around him, their eyes still hazy with confusion and pain, but free from the empty madness of the Ash Dream. Slowly, gently, they lifted Torvaag up, bearing him away from his grim battlefield.

[AntiMatter101]

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'You do your blade a disservice brother, it's beauty is equal, merely different from my own. You wear it well, and well does it suit you.' He stroked his chin in throught, a habit well known to Frellon, common when Carolinus was removed from Cireo's path 'I would show you Markien brother, yet I do not know where to start. They are places of untouched beauty in the north, or if you've a thirst our vineyards are much recovered since the war. Mayhap you would care to rest, if so there is a town nearby. Or if you'd see your new home we'll to Sanctuary, you'll like it there I think. I crafted it in the style of the balcony in Baz'Auran's garden, the one near the great fountain. It was our favourite place, Ciero and I, and I recall you also fond of it.'

"Rest, is probobly a good idea. Though I could see Sanctuary first. I can't say I remember the gardens as clearly as I'd like; I can't wait to see what you've done with it."

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Of Dreams and Fire

Frellon was surrounded. This was getting to be boring. The onslaught of skeletal frames was unending. No matter how many he fought back, more kept coming. He could pulverise a dozen into dust within moments, yet their numbers remained undiminished.

By this point he barely broke a sweat. The Sword of Heroes lay shimmering, as usual.

Frellon paused, and eyed the masses, as they regrouped and advanced once more.

A thought, rose up from within him, unbidden. Isn't there a faster way? Frellon raised his left hand, open palmed. Golden Fire sprouted from his fingertips, growing to envolope his hand.

Frellon flicked the fire at a skeleton. It settled onto it's frame, and disintigrated a hole straight through it. The rest of the monstrosity colapsed to the ground, inert.

"That's new."

This time, as they closed, Frellon spun, palm outstretched, willing power to the palm of his hand. A jet of golden fire emenated from it, and the hordes turned to dust before it.

Frellon stood upon a field of shattered bone, and for once, nothing stirred.


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Two days later

Frellon felt great, a few nights of sleep in an actual bed had done wonders after so long on the road. He felt refreshed, and stronger than he had ever felt before.

Frellon rose early, in contrast to the previous day, and greeted the rising sun with a salute.

A grin on his face, he began a routine, first slowly, then speeding up, untill the flashing blade seemed to be in several places at once. A skilled onlooker might note that his fighting style seemed developed to fight dozens of foes at once. In finding a gap in that defence, one had their work cut out for them. Frellon had been fighting by himself for a long time.

As it began, so it ended, the pace slowed gradually, and the blade found its way back to its place at his side.

Another salute to the sun, now shining bright over the horizon, and Frellon was ready to face the day.

Act Expendiature:

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1 Major Act: Gain the ability Mightiest Athlete.

2 Major Acts, 3 Minor Acts, 3 Ceremonies Remaining

[Gengy]

The River Salus

A fisherman was carefully pulling in his line for the evening. The haul had not been great today - nonexistent in fact - so he was annoyed. He was new to being a fisherman, but it suited him more than holding a hammer did.

Even in Salus, there are those whom can be lazy.

Still, lazy men have their pride. And this one had caught no fish at all.

He finished wrapping up his gear, and was gathering his - empty - wooden bucket, when a fish came sailing out of the air, and dropped right into the pail.

Then another. And another.

So shocked was the man, that he dropped his fishing pole, and nervously turned to stare at the river.

There, in the middle of the stream, were three strange dolphins. The man knew dolphins - every sailor talked of them - but these three were different. One was black and white all over, another was striped purple and green, and the third was a sort of shining metallic blue.

And they were all tossing fish towards him.

Which was fine. Until one of them asked, "Do you know where Cousin Amanda-dear is?"

The fisherman - too young to know better - screamed in fear.

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

Word spread quickly. Demons in the river! Demons... who happily tossed fish at you? And laughed with chattering sounds of joy?

Fear was overcome by understanding, and soon the older wiser citizens of Salus were grinning, and everyone was beginning to whisper, "Dolphins" and "Jongo".

In a relatively short time, someone thought to go find Amanda. One of the elders of Salus (carefully keeping her head down and not looking at anyone other than Amanda) walked over and whispered, so as not to disturb Lord Haramhold's guests, "Lady, there are dolphins in the river. They are asking for you."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chaos and Deception

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Many Years Ago

...Oh BAZ'AURAN THEY'RE EVERYWHERE.

When Roselia was asked if she'd like to meet the Jongoscion, she'd assumed that they were some distance away, rather than right beneath them. She blanches in surprise and mild terror when they appear, but quickly recomposes herself.

She has a similar reaction when she realizes that Jongo is communicating with a barbershop quartet piece of jewelry.

However, in spite of all this, she smiles as she replies to the synchronized pleading.

"Of course I can stay for a time, dear sibling, nieces and nephews."

And for once, it was the truth.

Rose instantly became everyone's favorite person. When the Jongoscion weren't trying to bother her and bug her with questions, Jongo himself was.

Telling Rose everything that had happened since the fall to the Disk took an animated evening, but it was only the first of night. Jongo then spent time - with the ever helpful Jongoscion - building Rose a large spacious hut on one of the small islands.

The Jongoscion were excited. For most of them, this would be their first try at walking on land. Several struggled, but soon they had the hang of it, and were hauling drift wood from all over to construct the hut to Jongo's specifications, and Jongo regaled Rose with all the hours spent working on Green Morningstar. It was so interesting to Jongo to be building again, that every few moments, the hut would change to something else; a house, or a pagoda, or a shanty.

All in all, it was quite a lot of fun. Until the inevitable happened. Being no great builder, the poorly made myriad of a structure that may have - at one point - been meant to be a hut came crashing down. Thankfully, no one was hurt, but building it again (this time the right way) was a fun distraction.

"So, Rose. What happened to you? I... I think I felt it when you... I've been calling it ignited the spark, because that's what it feels like. Like a candle exploding into a bonfire. But you... you're special, Rose. I felt it happen, and at the same time, I didn't. I mean, you're in front of me now, and I can feel that you very much came into your power, but every part of your essence is subtly whispering at me that whatever I'm thinking is wrong. You are a walking, talking, fantastic contradiction. The Band of Chaos adores you, by the way. It likes anyone who has such... such... potential. And you've got it all in spades, Rose."

Looking in her mindscape, just briefly, Jongo drank in Rose's essence. It literally was a contradiction, of sorts. There was immense power there, but all of it was trying to make Jongo think otherwise. Either it was trying to convince Jongo that Rose was not where she was standing, or it was trying to make itself bigger and smaller at the same time. The... the feel of her was difficult to get. It was like Jongo's mind was asking "Who are you?" and Rose's very soul was answering, "Everything but what I am."

It was so Rose.

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Tychris, Dark, please check your in-boxes for PMs!

[HalfTangible]

Mortal KCombat

Ouran changed his fur into fireproof scales before the wall even came close. That wasn't to say the flames didn't burn, they just didn't burn as much, or set him alight as they should have. Ouran charged forward before he saw Althra blowing into the air. Ice flowed from her mouth and coated the ground before him. He quickly jumped and sprouted wings, charging for his old creator. He slammed into her shield, bounding back off of it. Althra's hand suddenly flared with lightning and she lashed out at the raccoon.

Funny. She growled. If it hadn't been for me, you'd still be a raccoon. What an ungrateful creature you turned out to be.

You tried to kill me and were incompetent enough to not only create me in the first place, but FAIL to check for a body.

You fell off a cliff! She yelled, turning herself invisible. It was a reasonable assumption.

Ah right. I forget you could never be wrong. Must be my fault for not dieing properly, then.

She roared. DON'T YOU MOCK ME!! A bolt of lightning flew from behind Ouran and zapped him, right in the back. He yelped out as all that power flowed into him, ravaging his body. He fell down on his belly.

Sihlk's flesh turned from bright purple to white in an instant. Oh Jongo... OURAN!!

Your turn.

Sihlk dodged Althra's fireball and shot at the wizard, wrapping around her like a giant snake. Suddenly Althra's body became wreathed in flame, and Sihlk shrieked as she released the wizard.

Do you understand now? Althra sneered at the white snake, trying to pull itself up. I. Am. A. Goddess.

You are tiny. Sihlk sneered. You know nothing of godhood, little human.

Althra's sneer faded. She faced her open palm straight towards Sihlk. Perish in flames for your hubris, mortal.

Ouran was right, you DON'T check for bodies, do you?

Althra blinked at the purple snake. What are you talking about?

Where's Ouran's body? Sihlk suddenly was a badger, and that badger was digging into the ground as quickly as it could.

Althra was arrogant, but she was not a complete idiot. A quick glance confirmed that Ouran's body was gone. As she fired flames down at the badger (ignoring it's howls of agony) She looked around, trying to find where Ouran would have gone. There was nothing she could see, but she wasn't humble enough to believe Ouran had anything better to do than get himself killed fighting her.

There was a rustling of tree limbs behind her. She turned, eyes wild with fire... and those quickly changed to complete shock and horror.

A massive repitilian creature nearly four times her size thundered towards her on a pair of massive, muscular legs. It had teeth as tall as she was, and as it roared, she felt it reverberate throughout every fiber of her being. She immediately focused her energy on the barrier around her. The reptile slammed into her, enclosing it's teeth around the barrier but unable to envelop her utterly. It instead pushed her along the ground to smash into a cliff.

The reptile suddenly shrunk back down into a raccoon. Althra was embedded in the wall, eyes shut and blood leaking from her lips. Ouran smirked as Sihlk came up from the ground a little to the side, assuming the form of a horse and grinning wide.

There! Feel better now? She grinned, turning her head to the side to look at Ouran.

... A little. He chuckled. But... I dunno, I guess I expected more. Like a final badass transformation or something... Ah well, I guess reality isn't always-

A bolt of energy shot straight into Sihlk's shoulder.

Time seemed to slow down as Ouran and Sihlk both slowly turned their heads to see the small hole left by the bolt. It stayed slow as Althra muttered a word Ouran didn't hear.

Sihlk's leg suddenly exploded from the hole in her leg downward. She screamed and fell over, blood pooling beneath her. She twitched, her color shifted once more, and she laid still.

Ouran was quiet for a moment that seemed to stretch into eternity.

A slow death from blood loss - fitting for such a beast. You're next, abomination.

Ouran didn't speak for another moment. Sihlk was fun. Happy. Bright. He slowly turned to look at the wizard. And you just blew her leg off.

Althra sneered. After working with a creature like you she deserves far worse than that. Ready to die, raccoon?

This was her idea. He said quietly, as if ignoring her. She wanted me to put all of this behind me. And she was right - this whole mess with you DID weigh on my soul. It'd been months and I still wouldn't stop talking to her about it. And you shot off her leg.

Althra's sneer faded, eyebrow cocked. ... So are you just going to LET me put another shield up?

... She was kind. Too kind to deserve that. Sure, she'll be able to cauterize herself if she regains consciousness, but I don't know if she can regrow that limb.

... Hello? Archenemy here?

...We're miles from her home. And even if I bring her there, she can't swim back with one limb missing.

Hellooooo? Goddess regaining focus?!... I did say my defenses were down, right?

... You hurt my friend. My only friend.

You gonna shut up and actually DO something any time soon?

........You'll pay for this. He snarled, feeling rage begin to boil in his blood. I will make s-

Althra was pointing at him before he could strike, and with a blast of lightning, Ouran slumped to the ground. -uch a nice trophy? Yes, indeed you will. She sneered. Well, I suppose that should about wrap things up here-

Sihlk coughed, and Althra glanced. The creature had closed it's wound, and while still not entirely awake, the purple horse-thing was no longer bleeding. It was even shifting in it's sleep - imagine that. It was only a matter of time before it regained consciousness. She sighed and walked over to the creature.

Ouran raised his head from the ground. He couldn't move, and he watched Althra raise her hand above her head.

I don't know what you are, little monster... Althra said coldly, flames leaping into her hand. But when you get to the afterlife, tell your creator to try harder next time.

Something in Ouran suddenly surged with energy and rage. This woman had taken everything from him - his old identity, his life (well, tried to, and failed miserably), and even his form... and now she wanted to take away his only friend.

Energy surged through the raccoon, and Ouran was on his feet and running before he realized he could move again. NO!

A massive monkey with melon-sized muscles made to grab Althra and throw her into the rock face. She suddenly ducked, however, whirled on Ouran, and shot the fireball at his face. He didn't care. Burns on him meant none on Sihlk. His eyes were gone but she didn't move fast enough for that to matter - He slammed his fist into the wizard's face, pushing forward through the pain and forming new eyes on the monkey's belly. All of them burned with anger as he charged towards her new position next to a broken tree.

Althra disappeared and reappeared twenty feet above. She faced both of her palms downard and shot a plethora of fireballs. Ouran didn't even notice his arms blow off. He shifted into a massive bird and schreeched upwards for the wizard.

The Wizard schreeched back, and hers had the wail of a banshee within it. Ouran's ears began to bleed, but he ignored it. Another spell he'd take for Sihlk.

He raked his talons forward and caught her in the stomach. He then shifted into a massive grey blob, bringing Althra down to earth. As he did so, Althra placed her palms against his body and lightning suddenly coursed through both of them. As she howled in pain, Ouran was glad.

They crashed into the ground, and Ouran released her, changing the talons into stumpy legs to match his grey form. The wizard stood, and flames danced in her hands.

Abomination... Her eyes widened with insane rage. How dare you...

The creature pawed at the ground, ready to charge.

Althra screamed, and this time brought up enough lightning that every tree around them fried as well as Ouran. He roared and charged through the pain, slamming her into a tree. Althra coughed up blood and started slamming her electrified fists into his body. She was ignoring the pain too, now.

I'LL KILL YOU!! She screamed. I'LL KILL YOU AND THIS TIME YOU'LL DIE!!

Ouran changed into a bull, goring the wizard, and tossed her farther away from the cliff Sihlk was unconscious at. ALthra stood and coughed up more blood, eyes wild and crazy now.

YOU... I... I'LL KILL YOU!! I'LL KILL YOU TO DEATH!! She slammed her lightning-charged palms together, and a massive lightning bolt flew from her hands, slamming into Ouran and punching him through half a dozen trees. Ouran gasped, and as he slumped to the ground checked the damage... she'd blown apart his guts. That was more than fatal.

...No! If he died, Sihlk would...

He stood, and in the back of his mind, it occurred to him that he wasn't feeling any pain that he should have. He filed it under 'don't care' and shifted into a large cat. He charged forward as fast as he could, trying to find Althra. He burst into the clearing and found Althra laying against a tree, holding her own gut. He saw that the recoil of the spell had blown her guts apart as well.

...It would be so easy to just walk forward and slit her throat. Watch the life drain from her eyes. End it for sure, once and for all.

... But he was dieing, Sihlk might need help and he didn't particularly care what Althra did.

... If you survive, He said coldly, Don't come after me or Sihlk ever again. Because next time, I won't let you live.

He said nothing more to her, shifting back into his raccoon form.

It wasn't until Althra's final curse took effect that he realized the wizard was already dead.

Her body exploded, lightning, ice and fire all exploding outward. The shockwave carried him far and in the direction of the cliff, though he slammed into a tree before he made it all the way.

...

...Sihlk... my friend... Thank you. For everything...

His eyes fell shut... he wondered if-

---

Time Card

Sihlk awoke, groggily looking around. As she stood, she gripped her forehead with the remaining paw of her massive bear form. The forest was burned and frozen (she filed that under 'weird - figure out later') all around her. She knew that Althra would've just finished her off and she knew hoped Ouran wouldn't have just left her there, so they couldn't have gone far.

Maybe the massive crater in the forest might be near one of them? Just a thought.

She looked for either of them as she slowly but surely regrew her missing limb. Cauterizing a missing limb so you don't bleed out? That was easy for her. Growing the limb back? That took a while. Ouran could do it faster than she could...

Speaking of Ouran HOLY S***!

She gasped aloud at the sight of Ouran's broken and mangled body, impacted into the tree. She didn't need to know much about raccoons - this thing was either dead or soon to die.

No, She thought frantically, shaking as she approached the raccoon. No, you're my friend, taking her down was my idea, you can't die here, not now!

She shifted in a bird, grabbed up the broken raccoon, and flew to the Sea of Jongo. Her Creator-Father-Mother could fix this. She knew it. He was chaos incarnate - she could change Ouran's fate.

---

Godhood

-and then I flew back here as fast as I could! The dolphin finished, frantic. He only went there because I wanted him to! He can't die because of me... please...

Jongo looks down at the lifeless form of the Raccoon, and sighs. "I am sorry, child. Death is... the ultimate form of change. I am not happy with this one's death, not after what they did for you, and don't want you to take on more guilt then you already have. But I cannot undo death."

Reaching out one hand, Jongo pets the soggy form of the dead Raccoon, and closes the lifeless animal's eyes.

On Jongo's hand, the unusual ring - the Band of Chaos - glows.

Leaping from Jongo's finger, and leaving Jongo's body entirely, the Band of Chaos begins to swirl and warp itself around and around the Ouran's silent form.

The sound of an orchestra badly in need of a conductor and horribly out of tune fills the air, as what once was a simple ring becomes a cocoon.

"Well. That's. Um. Different." Jongo could only stare on in wonder, and then felt it.

Change.

Possibility.

Life.

The glow of the cocoon ebbed, and the Band of Chaos slowly unwrapped itself from the small form it had encircled. It once again returned to Jongo, chirping excitedly.

"No, I do not know how much wood a woodchuck chucks if a wood chuck could chuck wood. That's pretty irrelevant to my current curiosity anyways. What in MY name did you just do, Band of Chaos?"

Sihlk lets out a small gasp. Creator-Father-Mother! It's... it's Ouran! He's... his eyes are opening!

Ouran groaned. Oh gods, who threw me off a cliff again...

"Ah. That's what you did. Well. Um. Interes-" Jongo did not finish, as her mindscape exploded right in front of him. The divine spark came from everywhere at once, and concentrated down onto this small raccoon in Sihlk hands.

It was chaos - pure and simple - in it's most complicated form. Change. Jongo knew it well. Every bit of life changed every second they continued to exist. And it was like everything - from everyone everywhere - coming together all at once.

In a raccoon.

Ouran opened his eyes. And where Althra had claimed to be a god, Ouran knew two things for sure.

First, the being before him - this small human child with the curious look on her face - didn't need to make that claim. They were a god. Ouran could feel it.

And second... Ouran was one too.

...This isn't gonna end well, is it?

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Thanks to Gengy for helping me make Ouran look less like a jackass in the fight scene, helping me with the general structure of this entire ascension quest, and basically writing everything in that last section, aside from Ouran's speaking lines, the groan and that first bit with Sihlk.

[Kasanip]

Sonata and Melos

Sonata accepted the help to stand up, politely and nodded. The weight of her heart couldn't ignore the promise. Even if it hurt her pride.
"Yes. I recognize that ancient oath. You may have your boon. What is it that you desire, and if I may ask, why?"

[Demidos]

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'Your obfuscation is obvious, and very unwise.' Suddenly the sword of the titans is beneath Vanana's eyes, the tip pressed against her neck. So fast was the movement of the god she had not seen the blade move, only hearing in warning the metallic screech of the cut air. 'I have not yet shed blood with this blade, nor would I will it. Yet at every turn my hand is forced.' He stepped close and hissed in her ear 'Know, that if we were not kin of a kind, you would already be dead. Child of my brother's shadow, I give you back your life.'

With a straight armed shove he sent her arcing backward onto the cold marble floor. 'Tomorrow you and yours will leave Markien. You will never return. These are the laws of the life I have returned to you. Break them and that life will end.'

Vanara flew back, crashing into the cold marble of the floor. She lay there for a moment, raven hair splayed so as to obscure her lovely face. Her head hung low, but when she spoke, her face veiled, her voice had lost none of its fire.

"Your deeds shame you, oh great and just God of Justice." Vanara spits, every word dripping with sarcasm and venom.

"I have spent half a century protecting your people. I have caught countless thieves, killers, rapists, murderers, con-men, cultists, conspiracists, vandals, racketeers, and low born scum of every sort that your own lawmen missed. My people and I have spent countless waking hours patrolling your city. You judge us for our nature, and for our manieră, our method, not for our results -- and our method is far more "humane" than anything that could be found in your dungeons. We have absorbed enough memories of fear, pain, and anger to drive the whole of your city mad, and withstood them. For the purpose of protecting your people. My people suffered nightmares, seizures, all in the interest of protecting yours folk. And now you scorn our aid. Very well. May you work as thanklessly as we did, only to be as shunned those you tried to help."

Vanara spit, a sound that somehow echoed through the marble hall, then her body heaved and split, bats spewing forth from her body until it was completely consumed. The bats circled the roof once, then sped out of the hall, calling in their odd, clicking way as they flew. Columns of bats sprang up from spots around the city. A pair of muggers looked confused as the avenging angel that had appeared in the mists spattered into a swarm of bats and vanished again. A woman screamed as the man walking on the other side of the street discorporated, as did a boy, as the man that stood in the alleyway between him and and his father, who was still wielding the bloody belt, vanished.

The enormous cloud of bats circled twice, and then sped north, vanishing in the gathering gloom.

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Sorry about that curse Ladorak. You managed to really insult her sensibilites. I didn't get the sense that Carolinus was the sort of god who would destroy her for that, but if so, warn me so that I may modify my post accordingly.

[BladeofObliviom]

Chaos and Deception
Many Years Ago...

Well, Roselia is fairly likable if you haven't caught onto her lying ways yet. Or maybe even if you have! She was pleased with the hut, and rather amused by the first failed attempt. Rose had always considered Jongo to be the member of the family least afraid of having fun, and nothing that she'd seen so far had taken away that impression. If anything, he/she was more entertaining than ever!

The Goddess grinned like she hadn't in months, and snapped her fingers. More quickly than mortal eyes could even process, everything changed.

The hut, despite its humble nature, shifted into a nearly palatial structure, quite reminiscent of the architecture of the White City itself. The regions surrounding the hut, as far as the eye could see, were transformed to impossibly beautiful greenery, with colorful flowers seemingly springing from the ground at every turn. Better yet, the attention to detail was impossibly beautiful: Insects buzzed around looking for pollen, and the sounds of a pleasant spring day sang through the air as if the land had been transformed wholesale. Everything even felt real, as the Goddess' power was more than sufficient to replicate that sensation. The smells of pollen and the odors of various flowering plants filled the air, assaulting the nostrils of the Jongoscion with new and exciting scents. If anyone had endeavored to interact with the environment, they would find it reacting as if such a thing were really happening; blades of grass could be plucked, flowers picked, and insects swatted. If any had been curious enough to try eating something, they would find that even the authentic taste of the thing had been replicated.

The Goddess of Deception herself doesn't exactly do her illusions by halves.

"Now gather around, my kin, and let your Aunt (or sister, Jongo) tell all of you a story..."

And thus it was that Roselia told Jongo and the Jongoscion began with the story of the Fall of the White City, and its aftermath. This part was accurate; No doubt they already knew of this event, though Roselia's perspective on it was perhaps different and interesting, due to the differences between herself and Jongo.

The true beginning of the story was a telling of her awakening in the mysterious mossy cave in the Far North, where the days and nights alike were so cold that all but the mightiest creatures fled Winter's Wrath. She told the story of her discovery and first encounter with the deadly Malcanthorix, a being legendary for its sheer power and cruelty even among the isolated denizens of the White City. With no small amount of dramatic embellishment, of course.

The second act of the tale was even more gripping, and told of her clever plan to escape the beast's captivity. This too was told with much embellishment, but the story itself was so terrifyingly gripping that less was necessary to keep the attention of the others.

"...But what the mighty beast, the Malcanthorix of Legend, had forgotten in its hubris proved to be its downfall after all. This was a creature so fearsome that Eliat could scarcely have matched it in combat, and it was brought down by my wits and creative use of a handmirror.

There is a lesson here, my family, and that is the fact that no amount of simple might can win against cleverness and the right tools. Even such a frightening monster as the Kraken can be defeated with the right approach."

That's not a bad point, actually; Mind over matter is sort of how Gods operate. In any case, her story finished, she speaks to Jongo directly.

"I actually bound what remained of the creature into the mirror instinctively. I kept it as a memory, and because it is now perhaps the most interesting and valuable handmirror upon the Disk. You can see it if you'd like, though I'd not recommend opening it."

With a flick of her wrist, the foldable handmirror that she had taken to Baz'Auran's great feast so long ago appeared in her hand, but it had changed immensely since that time. It had been flawless then, if mundane. After all, the White City was a place where minds ruled supreme over simple matter, and thus the appearance of the mirror was exactly what its creator had wanted it to be: Perfect. However, this mirror was not entirely the same as that mirror. While the inside mirror was untarnished and completely undamaged, the exterior was scorched beyond recognition and the frame had been twisted out of shape by a Gaze inimical to reality itself. Jongo could easily see Rose's familiar (if confusing) essence swirling through the device, mixing and mingling with another clearly malevolent one.

Indeed, it was much like the Band of Chaos itself, though rather than feeling friendly and fun like the band, this mirror seemed deeply treacherous and just looking at it seemed to inspire dread. Actually opening the mirror shows that the image of the Malcanthorix' deadly gaze is forever burned into the mirror itself, and the mere sight of it instills in the viewer unspeakable fear. Jongo himself could resist it with some effort, but a mortal would never stand a chance.

This was the Eye of Delusion, an artifact forged from the Metals of Heaven, a Soul from Hell, and held together only by the wiles of a Trickster Goddess clever enough to turn them against each other. This was, in and of itself, just as much of a walking contradiction as Rose. Something that could not seem to decide just what it was, but strongly disagreed with the opinions of others no matter where they stood.

[Gengy]

Renard and Lors at The Olm

From the Walls, Sonata

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This is a song about Renard, the Chief Fox, who is best known for his Relaxing and Tricking and Cunning and Fox Dancing, and is the chief of all foxes, who once tricked a Princess of the White City to become a fox princess, and who once tricked a Princess of the White City to become a human, who is the only fox to ride the great Lightning Wolf along with Fayruz and Sonata, the two Princesses of Dusk and Dawn, and who alone of the foxes then is revered and admired for his loyal service to Sonata and who led the Ciela foxes and Olm Foxes to aid the Fayheran.

It can be said that there are many songs of this Renard, the Chief Fox, who already has many stories and legends.
This is of a time in The Olm, at that time when Sonata was a guest of Fayruz her twin sister. On the dusty streets when the sun is hot and shadows are small, it is the game of proud foxes to leap from shadow to shadow, hiding beneath the twilight and coming to see the curious sights, such as [mirage], which are tricks any fox can make. But here in an idle afternoon, it was that an unusual shaman was to present such an island shadow, and so it was leaped to by Renard as he crossed the road. But the distance to the next was too far, and so a stalemate was had.

So it was idly that Renard danced in the shadow of the strange shaman, and in his boredom and curiosity, he spoke.

To walk in the sun in the afternoon,
even Fayheran children do not repeat this mistake.
And though this fox may walk anywhere he pleases,
it is a rare thing to see someone of eyes that are
of sea colors and treasures
in a land without!"

"Well. A talking fox. You must be with the Lady Iris- excuse me, Lady Sonata?" I wasn't shocked by the fox in front of me. I wasn't. Really.

All right, fine, a bit.

But I had been wandering around - yes in the hot sun - because I'd spotted the Shadow yesterday. Again, as soon as I saw it, it was gone.

I told Charlie. He didn't have clue what it might be. Still, at least he listened, unlike Old Man Thymm.

And I'm getting old too. I'm letting my mind wander. What had the fox said? Sea colors?

"I have odd eyes because - and please don't ask why - I apparently am God-touched. I know that sounds weird, but it's true. And. Well. You're the first person - fox - I've told. Is there something I can do for you, besides rambling on like the crazy old man I probably am?"

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

Chaos and Deception

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Many Years Ago...

Well, Roselia is fairly likable if you haven't caught onto her lying ways yet. Or maybe even if you have! She was pleased with the hut, and rather amused by the first failed attempt. Rose had always considered Jongo to be the member of the family least afraid of having fun, and nothing that she'd seen so far had taken away that impression. If anything, he/she was more entertaining than ever!

The Goddess grinned like she hadn't in months, and snapped her fingers. More quickly than mortal eyes could even process, everything changed.

The hut, despite its humble nature, shifted into a nearly palatial structure, quite reminiscent of the architecture of the White City itself. The regions surrounding the hut, as far as the eye could see, were transformed to impossibly beautiful greenery, with colorful flowers seemingly springing from the ground at every turn. Better yet, the attention to detail was impossibly beautiful: Insects buzzed around looking for pollen, and the sounds of a pleasant spring day sang through the air as if the land had been transformed wholesale. Everything even felt real, as the Goddess' power was more than sufficient to replicate that sensation. The smells of pollen and the odors of various flowering plants filled the air, assaulting the nostrils of the Jongoscion with new and exciting scents. If anyone had endeavored to interact with the environment, they would find it reacting as if such a thing were really happening; blades of grass could be plucked, flowers picked, and insects swatted. If any had been curious enough to try eating something, they would find that even the authentic taste of the thing had been replicated.

The Goddess of Deception herself doesn't exactly do her illusions by halves.

"Now gather around, my kin, and let your Aunt (or sister, Jongo) tell all of you a story..."

And thus it was that Roselia told Jongo and the Jongoscion began with the story of the Fall of the White City, and its aftermath. This part was accurate; No doubt they already knew of this event, though Roselia's perspective on it was perhaps different and interesting, due to the differences between herself and Jongo.

The true beginning of the story was a telling of her awakening in the mysterious mossy cave in the Far North, where the days and nights alike were so cold that all but the mightiest creatures fled Winter's Wrath. She told the story of her discovery and first encounter with the deadly Malcanthorix, a being legendary for its sheer power and cruelty even among the isolated denizens of the White City. With no small amount of dramatic embellishment, of course.

The second act of the tale was even more gripping, and told of her clever plan to escape the beast's captivity. This too was told with much embellishment, but the story itself was so terrifyingly gripping that less was necessary to keep the attention of the others.

"...But what the mighty beast, the Malcanthorix of Legend, had forgotten in its hubris proved to be its downfall after all. This was a creature so fearsome that Eliat could scarcely have matched it in combat, and it was brought down by my wits and creative use of a handmirror.

There is a lesson here, my family, and that is the fact that no amount of simple might can win against cleverness and the right tools. Even such a frightening monster as the Kraken can be defeated with the right approach."

That's not a bad point, actually; Mind over matter is sort of how Gods operate. In any case, her story finished, she speaks to Jongo directly.

"I actually bound what remained of the creature into the mirror instinctively. I kept it as a memory, and because it is now perhaps the most interesting and valuable handmirror upon the Disk. You can see it if you'd like, though I'd not recommend opening it."

With a flick of her wrist, the foldable handmirror that she had taken to Baz'Auran's great feast so long ago appeared in her hand, but it had changed immensely since that time. It had been flawless then, if mundane. After all, the White City was a place where minds ruled supreme over simple matter, and thus the appearance of the mirror was exactly what its creator had wanted it to be: Perfect. However, this mirror was not entirely the same as that mirror. While the inside mirror was untarnished and completely undamaged, the exterior was scorched beyond recognition and the frame had been twisted out of shape by a Gaze inimical to reality itself. Jongo could easily see Rose's familiar (if confusing) essence swirling through the device, mixing and mingling with another clearly malevolent one.

Indeed, it was much like the Band of Chaos itself, though rather than feeling friendly and fun like the band, this mirror seemed deeply treacherous and just looking at it seemed to inspire dread. Actually opening the mirror shows that the image of the Malcanthorix' deadly gaze is forever burned into the mirror itself, and the mere sight of it instills in the viewer unspeakable fear. Jongo himself could resist it with some effort, but a mortal would never stand a chance.

This was the Eye of Delusion, an artifact forged from the Metals of Heaven, a Soul from Hell, and held together only by the wiles of a Trickster Goddess clever enough to turn them against each other. This was, in and of itself, just as much of a walking contradiction as Rose. Something that could not seem to decide just what it was, but strongly disagreed with the opinions of others no matter where they stood.

Jongo listened, and without a reason to doubt her, believed every word of Rose's story. The Jongoscion seemed awed, and most of them were smiling, and a few of the more adventurous were shapeshifting into what they thought Malcanthorix must look like; they were way off, but the many different legs that they formed were interesting.

To counter them, a few Jongoscion were shapeshifting to look like Rose.

Jongo watched for a bit, and smiled as he walked closer to inspect the Eye of Delusion.

"You story, dear sister, was well told. I doubt Goose could have done better, though I bet he'd sure like to try. Oh! Goose. That reminds me of another story. That boy went and got himself mind-controlled for a bit. A few of us sorted that out! We have so much to catch up on. I'm glad you decided to stay a while. Maybe you could teach my children to be clever with words like you are? They have a tough job ahead of them."

[BladeofObliviom]

Chaos and Deception
Many years ago...

Well, trying to look like Rose is easier said than done: It is subtle indeed, but her features shift slightly over time, almost as if she herself can't quite seem to decide what she's supposed to look like. She seems somehow to always look just like she always has, without actually having any consistency of features whatsoever. A god with more need for consistency and order than Jongo would likely be confused and quite annoyed with this trait, but to the Lord Luck this is no doubt little more than a curiosity.

"Kalandor was possessed? Oh dear. Well, it is good indeed that you managed to fix that. I'd love to hear any other news about our family, when we have the time.

And, well, I wouldn't mind teaching a bit about rhetoric and wordplay. If any of them have an aptitude I'll even teach a bit of magic! I'm sure they'd love that."

She's quite serious, too: She's already adapted her own illusionary sorcery into a form usable by mortals who know of her and like to think outside the box.

[Ladorak]

Carolinus said nothing as the bats blustered about, replacing the sword at his side with a face of granite.

He does not give reply until she is gone 'I am not the god of justice. I have but one law, it's penalty is death, delivered by my hand. Why do mortals struggle so with so simple a concept.'

An odd grin turned his lip as he made his way across the hall Dungeons in Markien. What a strange thought

In an antechamber Louisa and Warden Stone await anxiously. She is the first to speak 'Well?'

'After I told her I would spare her life she admitted it, spitting on the floor and cursing my name. Her excuse; She attacked only the guilty. She claimed to be protecting my people even as she fed from them.'

As uneasy silence followed 'You did well, Warden Stone. You have excelled beyond measure in the method of your discovery.'

When Louisa looked to Stone enquiringly he explained 'It is the nature of the mark that binds us to Carolinus. We detect untruth, falsehood, not lies. So when a man says he did not do a thing, or was not at a place, and we detect untruth but then says he is not lying, and is not, is raises questions. Some manner of memory destruction was the only guess I could make, and continued my investigation from there.'

'Conversion, apparently. Their means of sustenance. Memories converted into nightmares and sickness for themselves.'

Louisa looked sickened 'That's horrible.'

'Yes, it is. Life is precious, it should not be created thus. Poor cursed creatures.' He looked down at himself, wondering on the depth of his own creation's curse. He looked up, at prophet and Warden, and wondered how great the difference between the blessings he had given them and what Silvar had done.

'When next I see Silvar he will find me with many sharp questions.'

**********

Carolinus smiled to see his brother crossing the great courtyard. It was early yet, he had expected to wait hours more, and there was a sheen of sweat on Frellon's brow that Carolinus guessed was earnt.

'Good morning Frellon. You look much recovered. Which is good, because there's a tournament today and I think it might interest you. I have told my men you are the greatest swordsman on the Disk. Many have come to impress you.'

[Demidos]

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"I have been working on the designs for the past forty years I will show you the exact details when we reach my study; although there are still some aspects which I have yet to unravel. I do wish that Rumel was here he'd have been able to solve these problems decades ago." Haramhold said with longing in his voice "Have either of you heard any news from The Mechanic?"

Salus

The Weaver gazed off into the sunlight as the massive ship took off. The feeling of wind rushing past his ears, tearing off his hood and exposing his head, was incredible. Flight was truly one of the greatest experiences in this world. His twin eyes sparkled for a moment-but immediately turned dark when his brother mentioned Rumel.

"There have been no dreams of Rumel, brother. Not by mortals, not by our family. That does not mean he is not alive. But it does mean that, if he is, he is alone." The Weaver continued to stare off into the sun, his eyes somehow not reflecting its brilliant light. It would make for a wonderful painting. Or a tapestry. He had no time to weave as of late. So much was occuring. So many things changing. Jongo must be having the time of his life.

"I fear for our siblings, brother. Aramar disconnects himself from the world, and Brandis has lost his spark among the mortals, I fear. Rumel has not been seen since the fall, and Rose's spark appears only in brief spurts-though whether that is her intent, I cannot say. And Avyra...I feel her spark in this world. But not hers any longer, not quite. It is something very different now. Our family has shrunk."

The Weaver then turned, to regard Silvar. "And yet, it grows. You, shadow, are a part of Aramar, and how could I count you as anything other than sibling? And Torvaag, who was sent to my realm by Jongo, feels like an uncle to me. This world changes, and our family changes with it."

He smiled, and pulled his hood back over his face, once more obscuring everything but his eyes. "This idea of the Nexus is a good one. I will aid how I can."

Silvar leans back against the mainmast to steady himself as the ship takes off, then turns his face to Haramhold, and shrugs, his dark eyes never leaving Haramhold's. "I have not heard tell, nor has Aramar, but we have spent far too long secluded among the pines and oaks. Rumel would not, I fear, enjoy the forests and mountains of the Mistfells -- he was never very close to us."

Silvar remains quiet after that, even as the Weaver begins to speak, merely bowing his head in thanks, but an observant eye would have noticed the small tremor that passed through his hands when the Weaver called him "Brother". It was only a momentary shaking, before his hand went still again, but in that instant the Weaver became something more than a god to Silvar -- he became a friend. And family.

--------------------------
As Tekiel soared, he angled off to the right. The other Silviari flew in silence, each embedded in their own thoughts. He remembered something from a long, long, time ago. He had been forced to convert searching for – ah, there it was. Towering even among the other Ygradsi, ancient beyond measure, its top peeking out through the tips of the clouds, Oraș stood majestic and tall.

It had been a long time since Tekiel had been home, and he could already see that the Mare Vrăjitor, the high shamans, had shaped a masterpiece. A smallish Ygradsi, Oraș had fallen prey to a terrible sickness, that had destroyed the inner heartwood that comprised most of the volume of the tree. Seeing the opportunity, a high mage named Vrah had led his people to dwell inside, where they could shelter from the worst of the elements within and dance in the rain when the time was mild. The mage had colluded with others to make the tree grow, attaching the strength of the tree to the vitality of the Nightborn themselves, and as they had grown strong, so had the tree. Now the tree was huge, a soaring testament to the power of a sovereign species.

Oraș. The city of ten thousand waterfalls. It stands huge and strong, passages twisting in a maze of interconnected corridors and walkways. One can be walking deep within the tree, darkness pressing in on all sides, only to emerge minutes later into the full light of day, with only a precarious rope bridge to the next level or a hanging vine that snakes along the surface of the great tree to reach the next room. Glowing fungi lights much of the exterior and interior, and the city itself is awash with life. Walking through its corridors can be found strange beasts and creatures, as well as large amounts of migrant Nightborn, who come in for a night or two of security before venturing out into the dangers of the Mistfells. Rooms lay scattered throughout the tree, most boasting little more than a raised wooden platform that could be used as bed or table. Lastly, there was learning. The shape of the giant roots was arched in places, allowing for massive open areas within the relative security of the tree. Here, old Nightborn trackers, shamans, and warriors taught open lessons – any were free to join them, and share in their wisdom and knowledge. Young ones would train alongside their mothers or with their Sângi, their Blood-kin. Great hunts would be organized every full moon, a tribute to their elusive deity. Above all, the Vrăjitor held council, keeping the city functioning and arbiting disputes.

Tekiel resurfaced from his old thoughts. It had grown much, yes. He wondered if the same Mar still lived, or if Lycan had ascended to the post. Letting out a stream of clicks, he angled down and dove towards the city, the cloud of bats behind him angling to follow. They would soon find out.

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Edit: 1 minor act to create Oraș, a major city of the Nightborn (and of Spirits, if it is so wished), and another to raise Vanara to a 14th level character. I think she is growing on me, rough as she is.

[Erik Vale]

Of Sumo Shifters and Galavanting Godlings
It is bad enough when two men fight, but then knowledge of war was brought, and the horrors that unfolded where great. And with magic, men's minda broke into peices at the horror that unfolded.
But when gods fought. The very ground rejected it.

Writings of Galnaru. The Watcher. He who Remains. The Constant. The Uncycling Ghost.

And as true as the ground rejected fighting gods, the dream world rejected the fighting of Azath and Kalandor as Elanor. But Amanagu kept it contained, and just quiet enough that it might be missed by The Weaver... If he was busy.

And in truth, Azath was almost a god in this his domain, less only to the true gods. And Kalandor was in a much weakened state.
Reality buckled and shifted, and blades clashed, in that of claws and glaive. Teeth tore at flesh, tenticles tore at leathers, tusks tore at exoskeleton. And both shifted.
Stalagmites rose, Stalgtights fell, watter covered the ground.
With a mighty roar, the fighting mind of Kalandor as that of his combat form, a mighter Minotour with reinforcement beyond anything available to mortals, swatted Azath across the cave. Regaining it's feet, the being took the form of a bat, taking flight in an attempt to escape. At least, that was the thought.
Following close, Kalandor lost sight for a moment, and then found himself in a grappling contest. Something you never do to a shapeshifter, and in this dreamworld even more amorphus, something you should never even consider. And yet, both were formless, and skilled in their own ways.
Tenticles tore and spikes punctured. Mouths however did not devour. Acid glands spewed death even as feelers sought out spots unprotected in the rolling melle. Neither could retreat unless both desired.
A stalagmight fell, and the two broke apart, Neither showed permanent signs of harm, but some levels of exhaustion.
And again the chase began, in a changing maze sealed off from intrusion.
At least, that not devine.

---

"Ride high in the saddle/As you cover that ground."
Sankaru tribe's traditional send off song.

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((Yes, song in real life, sue me. No I don't know the name.))

Scha'Mane had set off on his walk towards the place he felt the most connection, not noticing as something within himself swelled.
The forest fell away outside his vision, yet came into a dark paradoy of life where he walked, he knew time and distance where variable in the realm, but he didn't try to controll it yet. To meet the fey might be interesting... if dangerous, and trying to skip ground when searching for something would be a dark mistake.

---

Hush, Hold your breath and still your heart
Don't think
Don't feel
Don't know
Don't recieve
A dark shadow overhead
Shehkovech is blessing no more.

A poem written after the dragon attacks in the Nalganatu (By natives) Mountains

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I might have spelt it wrong, but Shehkovech is the Ashauk greeting in the Ashauk chronicals, meening 'May you walk in the shadow of the dragon'.

As it was, the place Kalandor had come to rest was no under a tree, such was the shifting nature of the realm he lay in.
And then a fey walked through it.
It was a lesser fey, but still of great power, the one who talked to Scha'Mane, it's name beyond pronunciation. It's tittle though, was currently Spittle, for that was how it was veiwed in the eyes of the higher ups. It was worth spittle at the moment. But even Spittle was watched.
But Spittle didn't sense Kalandor, just that the area smelled of him, and so, Spittle kept walking. It didn't take a closer look at this place, it had spent enought time at other places.

[AntiMatter101]

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Carolinus smiled to see his brother crossing the great courtyard. It was early yet, he had expected to wait hours more, and there was a sheen of sweat on Frellon's brow that Carolinus guessed was earnt.

'Good morning Frellon. You look much recovered. Which is good, because there's a tournament today and I think it might interest you. I have told my men you are the greatest swordsman on the Disk. Many have come to impress you.'

Opportunity is knocking!

"A tournament?"

What a pleasant surprise, Frellon knew it would be more than unfair for a god to compete, but it was a great opportunity.

"I would love to watch!"

With luck, Frellon might witness a fighting style he had not yet seen, as these people had been developing swordplay on their own for a few generations.

"Show me the way! I finally get to see how well you passed along your lessons, brother." he said with a grin.

[Tectonic Robot]

"Ah yes, my name..." Jethro said to himself.

"It's Jethro. Jethro Fossarius."

Jethro then sat for the remainder of Llassar's explanation, listening to the original fall of the children of Baz'Auran, and what they have done while here on the surface. After his mention of his new found role as the God of Death, Jethro spoke one last time.

"True... but I can always confide in the Twilight. The cycle of Death and Rebirth will always function; I'm just here to make sure nobody messes with it further than it's been messed with. Now then..."

Jethro reached for his hat, which soon found its way snugly fit around his cranium.

"...has this happened before? A man obtaining the spark of a God?"

"Well... no. I don't think something like this has ever happened before, nothing that has ever reached my ears, at least. How does it feel, Jethro Fossarius, to be elevated from mortalhood into being one of the few chosen to contain a divine spark?"