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  1. - Top - End - #1021
    Ogre in the Playground
     
    NecromancerGuy

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    Default Re: Heroes of the Fall

    Old Guys Complain about Jongo

    As magma bubbled and surged, a long dormant volcano opens up, releasing a consant surge of heat. Gathering in molten rock, adding to his mass, Torvaag pulls himself out of the magma.

    "Well Kracken, sorry fer not stoping by for a bit, had a rough few decades. Meet two of the new little punks. Wonder if the boss kicked them out... wouldn't suprise for ONE of 'em. Little punk droped me off a cloud. Sense of a rotten rutabaga that un."

    While still nowhere near the size of the Kracken (never really was either. Them sea powers, they always been oversized), he's of decent size. Reaching down into the magma, he pulls out a cask the size of a house, a great diamond cask full of a dark, pungent liquid. He presents it to Kracken.

    "Well, lets drink to Old times, before that punk Jongo showed up."
    Power restored for christmass. I'm back!

    Spoiler
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    dragonflycave.com/newpay.aspx][/url]


  2. - Top - End - #1022
    Ettin in the Playground
     
    The Succubus's Avatar

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    Default Re: Heroes of the Fall

    Redirection

    The Lord of Suffering slowly drew his hand away from the Leviathan's flank. Creating the link between the two colossi had wearied him but he still had his task to complete. Swirling red and black eyes gazed into gold as he replied.

    "THE POWER TO RELEASE YOU FROM DUTY IS BEYOND MYSELF AT PRESENT. HOWEVER, HAVING LISTENED TO YOUR REQUEST AND THAT OF KRAKEN, I HAVE CHOSEN A COURSE OF ACTION REGARDING THE CORRUPTED DOLPHINS.

    I SHALL LEAVE THEM UNHARMED, AS YOU ASK, AND INSTEAD SEAL OFF THE SECTION OF OCEAN THAT THEY ABIDE IN, UNTIL SUCH TIME AS A REVERSAL PROCESS CAN BE DERIVED TO RETURN THEM TO THEIR ORIGINAL FORM."


    He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts and calculating the various outcomes of the plan.

    "SHOULD THE DEFILER MAKE HIMSELF PRESENT, I SHALL GRANT HIM THE OPPORTUNITY TO UNDO THE DAMAGE HE HAS DONE. IF HE REFUSES...HE WILL BE DEALT WITH IN AN APPROPRIATE MANNER AND I WILL LOOK FOR AN ALTERNATIVE SOURCE OF TREATMENT FOR YOUR OFFSPRING.

    EITHER WAY, KRAKEN WILL BE INFORMED OF HOW EVENTS UNFOLD. IF YOU CAN GRANT ME YOUR MARK AS WELL, THEN I CAN GRANT YOU THE SAME AS HE."


    *****

    After his audience with with the Leviathan had come to a close, the chain-wrapped shade of the Lord of Suffering soared off towards the Sea of Jongo. There, he would pass sentence on the Jongoscion...and possibly their creator as well.

  3. - Top - End - #1023
    Firbolg in the Playground
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    Default Re: Heroes of the Fall

    The Centre Fold
    "The wall does not hold.
    The Last Stands are made
    As darkness grim does close in.
    The light fades, I suffocate,
    The wall does not hold.
    Ware, the centre begins to fold."

    Words of Dirge singer and Historian Velkovakech.

    "The wall does not hold, they stop not for the guerilla, they are the overwhelming force. They must be met as such."
    Kalandor on Forgeborn.

    Kalandor kept up with the back line of the Forgeborn, in time, he took a new form.
    That of a raging giant, with arms of stone. Standing several feet above the forgeborn and still as light on his feet, Kalandor however was no longer the dancer.
    He was the Titan.
    He would be death.

    Throwing a forgeborn and willing it's heat into the forgeborn it would crash into, Kalandor lay several low even as his unfeeling stone hands warmed. Few forgeborn took the form of a walking rearguard to keep complete devistation at bay in the form of Kalandor, even as they walked into Sonata's mist.
    It was in this mist, things changed again, as he whispered to his sister across distances vast.
    'It is good to see you. I wish circumstances were more pleasent.'
    Now, as foxes slipped amongst the ranks of Forgeborn, so did Kalandor.

    Fading to his own form, Kalandor took advantage of a recently fell Forgeborn, and slipped through, his staff struck a Forgeborn's head before he tripped it, sending it into the mist and fireborn mud. Here, he became a harlequin. His dance was death.
    With surprising speed, an almost ghostly and feminine Kalandor slipped through the tight forgeborn ranks, which both ignored and shied away from the foxes in their mission, and wherever the foxes weren't Kalandor was. A fox might strike down one or two in it's dancing dash, but Kalandor. He took down forgeborn by the dozen, with waves of heat sending up billowing clouds of steam, and a double sided sword carving through the thick stone hides of these elemental beings. He knew not when to utilise his full power, but for now, he would wait, and thin an endless horde.
    Spoiler: Quotes!
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    Quote Originally Posted by Sun Hunter's Recruitment
    Quote Originally Posted by Sliver View Post
    Saying no to a Sun's Hunter is as close as it gets to an invitation to have your place destroyed by them)\
    Quote Originally Posted by Vedhin View Post
    In other words, be nice to the murderhobos so they don't murder you?
    Quote Originally Posted by JanusJones View Post
    The professional, well-funded, well-backed, card-carrying, licensed murderhobos, yes.
    Quote Originally Posted by Chilingsworth View Post
    Congrats, you made me laugh hard enough to draw my family's attention.


    Life is Hectic.

  4. - Top - End - #1024
    Ettin in the Playground
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    Quote Originally Posted by TheDarkDM View Post
    The Center of Creation

    Spoiler
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    The Herald of Day smiled slightly at Fayruz's affirmation of her courage, its eyes brightening at the sight of her determination. At her questions, it turned its gaze to the east, far beyond the lip of its secluded valley.

    "Ever can I feel my cousins, Fayruz, and I believe the Herald of Twilight to be among your kin even now. Be warned, though, that I do not know how much help he will be. Baz'Auran's rejection drove him mad aeons ago, and he serves his own warped sense of the Balance. As to a way back to the White City...there are roads, certainly, to bypass the bloody sanction upon Baz'Auran's domain, but none that I would set you on willingly. There is another way, though, a key that fits to every lock, even those of the First Ones. I fear it lies in the hands of the servants of the First Dark, but if it could be recovered it would surely open your way."

    The Herald reached out to touch Fayruz's shoulder, turning towards its shining eyes.

    "But carry one more warning before you go. The attack upon Baz'Auran came before the appointed hour, before he could secure his defenses upon the hidden places of the Disk. Many things were locked away here, among them those servants of the the First Dark powerful or cunning enough to avoid the purge in the last battle of the Diamond Plain. You have encountered one already, the laughing pestilence that haunts your people, and I fear there are more, moving in the shadows to pave the way for their master's arrival."
    "The key will open the way," Fayruz repeated to herself. "It seems to be appropriate to me, as that is the purpose of a key, is it not?"

    The warning was given, the warning was heeded. Fayruz nodded, almost bowing to the Herald of Day. The hollow was so peaceful that she could hardly imagine the darkness hidden on the disk, she who had swallowed a dragon. "We shall have to be strong, then. And united against those things that would consume us. We'll carry the light of Dawn with us."

    She cupped her hands, and she caught the light, the glimmering impossible light of the hollow, drawing it into her fingers and her palms, and the more that it gave the greater that it became, until the air was light and the taste was light and the dawn was here-

    And she held a crystal vial in her hand, shimmering dawnlight caught inside it, water that was light that was water. "And when the Dawn comes, the shadows of night melt away."

    And then there was only farewell.

    Spoiler
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    1 MA - Create Artifact, the Light of Dawn.

    The light that still remains in the fallen Disk from the Dawn, the reflection of the Herald who still remains, the light that still drives back the darkness, in crystal and glass caught. To illuminate, to protect, to be hope in hopelessness and anathema to the dark.
    freedom in the flame

    Spoiler
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    Quote Originally Posted by PhoeKun View Post
    Raz, you scoundrel! You planned this!
    Quote Originally Posted by BladeofObliviom View Post
    Great, and now I'm imagining what Raz's profile on a dating site would look like. "Must be okay with veils."
    Quote Originally Posted by Kasanip View Post
    I don't think there is such a time to have veils that it is not the fault of Raz_Fox.
    Quote Originally Posted by Dervag View Post
    It's a freaking Romulan dump truck. The Romulans are no more likely to build an unarmed warp-capable ship than they are to become a hippy commune.

  5. - Top - End - #1025
    Titan in the Playground
     
    HalfTangible's Avatar

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    It occurred to me I never actually said that Destanza was sitting on the throne he was supposed to be sitting on, and in fact made it really akward now because there's no indication he stood up either.

    Woops ... ignore it, keep going!


    [Distaste]

    Destanza's hands came up and quickly let out a wave of death essence. Ouran was in the air before any harm could be done, slicing down at the skeletal abomination. It raised one arm and caught Ouran's claw on it's forearm before another wave of essence blasted the raccoon-beast back.

    Ouran shot his tongue out at the creature, growing it to a fantastic length and wrapping it around the skeletal monstrosity. He ran his divine essence along the tongue, trying to turn the skeleton to dust as he had done with the zombies. However, the creature seemed unphased. It's eyes flashed, and Ouran was knocked back into a tree.

    I am far stronger than the zombies, Ouran. You cannot destroy me so simply.

    Ouran pulled to his feet, his arms morphing into thick, spiked tentacles. He lashed at the beast, aiming to smash it's ribcage. Destanza vanished before the blow could connect, and the ground he'd been standing on was smashed instead. Ouran snarled and extended a pair of eye stalks from his head, swirling them around like mad to find the beast.

    Instead, he saw the rotting corpses of his people shuffling towards him, eyes glowing a sickly green.

    He whirled on the dead and sliced them into pieces with his tentacles, rage building. But just as he finished, another ground came from behind, this one running and snarling like mad.

    Perhaps it was the shock that the zombies now apparently could run, but Ouran didn't attack them in time. They piled onto the massive raccoon-beast, biting and tearing into him. Ouran felt dark energy sinking into his body and felt fear grip at him for the first time in a long while. His arms shifted back into the muscled arms of a beast, and he ripped and teared into the horde around him. He fought them off, and they fell into pieces at his feet.

    Ouran didn't have time to savor his victory before he coughed and fell to one knee. He shifted back into his raccoon form and the pain lessened slightly (perhaps his raccoon form had easier access to his divine power?) but it was still debilitating. Blood was leaking from his mouth, and his thoughts turned sluggish.

    Poison? Is that... that essence poisonous? I don't... understand... what-?

    A pathetic attempt from a pathetic weakling. You are less of a god and more of a thing, little racoon.

    Ouran snarled and looked up to see Destanza, the glow that served as it's eyes narrowed. You cannot destroy me.

    Ouran snarled and slammed his paw into the earth. A section of ground around the thing suddenly turned to quicksand, and shot out of the ground, pulling Destanza down. It flared it's own essence around itself, knocking the quicksand back down and floating above the patch. Futile.

    Be silent! Ouran roared, leaping for the skeleton and clawing at it like a rabid animal. Destanza was knocked back, but apparently Ouran had forgotten the quicksand. He fell in, shooting a new tentacle out to grab the skeleton floating above.

    Destanza detached it's foot, dropping it down into the quicksand with the tentacle, and watched Ouran slowly sink in. Ouran struggled to get back to the surface but sunk in quickly.

    Bah. Destanza growled. No god would die so easily... It stared at the patch of quicksand for a few moments, then sighed. I suppose if he was going to be done in by his own act, he wouldn't have been a useful slave any-

    The ground exploded beneath him, massive orange tentacles writing and slicing. Destanza shot higher but wasn't quite fast enough - the writhing appendages wrapped around it and weaved between it's ribs before slamming it into the ground.

    Destanza shot necrotic energy into the tentacles, and many withered on the spot. However, before the energy could reach whatever they were attached to, the tentacles severed and collapsed like tree trunks.

    That cannot be healthy for you, Ouran. Destanza said quietly, pulling itself to it's feet.

    Shut it... Came the snarled reply.

    [FONT="Century Gothic"]Such divine wit.[/FONT

    Ouran pulled himself out of one of the numerous holes now pocked throughout the ground, now a raccoon again. There was blood all over his back, from the stumps of his tentacles. The wounds closed slowly.

    Destanza sneered. You are weakening, godling.

    Ouran roared and extended his neck, growing his jaw to the size of an alligator's.

    Oh dear.

    Ouran grabbed onto Destanza with his bone-crushing jaws, then shrunk his neck so that the rest of his body was pulled along. He slammed into Destanza and started punching it repeatedly. He wailed on the skeleton-beast, smashing its bones into pieces. He didn't stop until there was nothing but tiny shards of the necromancer.

    Then he fell to his paws and knees. Were it not for his heavy breaths, The silence of the forest would have been strangely deafening.

    Too close... He whispered, wiping sweat off of his brow. Way too close...

    He stayed on the ground, breathing heavily for a few moments longer. He would just catch his breath, then go from this place. The dead and damned would disintegrate now that their master was dead... At least, he hoped so. Even if they didn't disintegrate, they certainly would be easier to beat with no master to guide them.

    He smiled. He'd done something good here. Sure, Destanza's attack was partly his fault for sending Cha'Tima away, but now-

    It's a good thing I just reside in the bones.

    Ouran's eyes widened, and he looked to the shards of bone he'd left laying in the dirt... as they flew back together. Every last piece of the creature he'd just smashed to bits flew back together and reassembled.

    Otherwise that might've actually hurt me.

    Ouran lashed out with one paw, turning it into the size of a tree shortly before impact.

    It rotted before he could hit the creature, and Ouran screamed in agony, pulling his arm back before it hit. Destanza might have smirked if it had any remaining skin.

    Are you quite finished, you little raccoon? Destanza growled, impatience creeping into its voice.

    Ouran scrambled back from the skeletal monstrosity, his heartbeat pounding from his head to his toes. He found himself with his back pressed against a tree.

    A poor little rodent playing at god, finally brought to his knees. Destanza sneered. And you thought me arrogant. He opened his palm, wide open and gathered energy. Any final words?

    Ouran was quiet as he turned his gaze to the sky. ... Well... no big dramatic reveal, no poem, no deep observation on the meaning of life or your existence personally. I just... I only had one friend. It was a short life, but a good one. Wish I could've seen her one last time. Ouran's eyes suddenly blinked. ... Huh. Wish granted.

    It was a few seconds before Destanza realized why he had picked those specific words. To its credit, it nearly got around before a massive purple gryphon slammed into it, knocking it to the ground.

    Hold it down! Ouran yelled, running forward

    Destanza tried to rot Sihlk away. She started to scream, but Ouran grabbed her wrist and something deep and cool flooded into her body. She felt no pain any longer from the attack, and simply held down the skeleton. It struggled a little more before finally falling still.

    Fine. Turn this body to dust, I shall find another. It snarled. You cannot destroy me.

    Ouran smirked, slamming his paws into its forehead. You'll wish I could.

    The bones began to rattle. The sound of their jingling vibration echoed throughout the clearing for a few minutes, the light in the skull's eyes slowly dieing. All throughout the island, the dead connected to Destanza began to fall limp and lifeless. The light drained from their eyes, and they fell to the ground like puppets whose strings had been cut. Warriors cheered and Star Dancers smiled,

    Ouran felt himself beginning to sweat before he gasped and fell to his knees. The light was gone entirely.

    Sihlk moved over to the raccoon and shifted into a fairly large lizard.

    Ouran smiled at her. Thanks. If you hadn't-

    SMACK!

    OW! He yelled, jumping back and gripping the cheek she'd slapped with her tail. What was THAT for?

    She pointed a claw straight at his snout. Nearly DIEING! I leave for a month, maybe two, and when I come back you're having a WAR?!

    Nice to see you too, Sihlk. He growled dryly, standing up and walking back towards the Ulthwe people's camps. How was the Sea of Jongo?

    Lovely. Don't change the subject. She grew into a unicorn and trotted behind the raccoon. Where are we going?

    Now who's changing the subject?

    Just answer me, please.

    We're going to tell the Ulthwe and the Star Dancers to get in canoes and start rowing for the mainland.

    She blinked and extended her neck down to look him in the eye. Interesting. Why?

    Look back at the grove we just killed that thing in.

    She looked back and saw a massive rot taking root onto one of the trees there. She was quiet for a moment before breaking into a full gallop. Ouran shifted into a bird and they both moved as swiftly as they could.

    [Emesto]

    And so it came to pass that the Ulthwe left their island home. They say that the island we left behind has become a home for the mysterious rot that holds the mind of the dark lord Destanza.

    We found a land only just beginning to recover from the dark presence of the beast - the Ulthwe leant aid to the sickened and hurt they found in this new land they would call home, and the two tribes became one over the years, eventually renaming themselves the Emesto.

    But from that day we sailed from our home onwards, wizardry was declared the greatest of evils and banned from any in our lands, under pain of eternal banishment or death.

    It was also the last day we saw our lord in plain sight.


    [Wanderer]

    -with some squid ink and dead lionfish. The horse finished, trotting alongside the masked human that she thought of as her close friend. So I decided it was time to come back. Guess I should've come sooner.

    Ouran chuckled and patted Sihlk's neck. I'm just glad you showed up as early as you did. My last gambit probably would've killed me. Maybe even doomed the whole island. Glad we got out of there easy.

    They fell quiet again as Sihlk trotted along, Ouran keeping pace on foot.

    You sure you wanna go through with this?

    Hey, we knew this wasn't gonna last forever. The Ulthwe have Destanza's old city and an entire tribe of new blood - they don't need me. And I decided staying in one place is too boring. I did that enough in Althra's tower.

    He spread his hands wide to the air. I wanna see more, Sihlk. You, Destanza, the Biel'Tan, all of that... it showed me just how much the world could have. Sure, it was hell at the time, but looking back... I wanna know what else is out there.

    So. Let's go find some things worth seeing. He smiled, grew a hood, and covered his head with it, grinning wickedly from beneath the horse. Perhaps things as terrible as Destanza... but perhaps as wonderful as you. He patted her neck

    She stuck her tongue out. D'aw~ You're just saying that.

    So?

    SMACK!

    Spoiler
    Show
    6/6/2 (12/25)

    1MA - Gain Ability: Bloodlust

    1MA - Upgrade Domain: Change (+1)

    1MA - Destanza is now a consciousness within a grove of trees. It's presence is represented by a rot that appears on the trees while it's there but leaves when the mind does. Destanza can only go where it can leave a rot on the trees, effectively trapping it on the island.

    3/6/2 (1/8)
    Last edited by HalfTangible; 2013-01-09 at 12:58 AM.
    Hate me if you want. But that's your issue to fix, not mine.

    Primal ego vos, estis ex nihilo.

    When Gods Go To War comes out March 8th

    Discord: HalfTangible

    Extended Sig

  6. - Top - End - #1026
    Ettin in the Playground
     
    Tychris1's Avatar

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    Default Re: Heroes of the Fall

    The Green Morningstar

    Contragh began fuming, anger slowly building up towards the Lord of Weal and Woe. He was ready to throw his axe straight into his brain cavity, but then Contragh is addressed and his kingdom is mentioned to be at risk. Contragh quieted down, sheathing his Axe of Domination away as his face turns flat and emotionless. He would say it was no longer amusing if it ever did amuse him in the first place.

    There were times for petty anger and annoyances, but when ones own kingdom were at risk then all else must be put aside. Perhaps the Lord was lying, perhaps he told the truth. It didn't matter to Contragh, none of it did. All that mattered was that the tiniest shadow of a threat was to be handled swiftly and brutally. The security of a nation was not reassured by letting things such as uncertainties slide away unnoticed. He aknowledged the arrival of Sonata with a curt nod of his head. He could not yet speak of what she just said with a clear concious. It seemingly reinforced the Lord of Weal and Woe while giving Contragh the perfect scapegoat. But he could squabble with siblings later, there was a higher calling at work now.

    Walking with Haramhold Contragh ignores The Lord of Weal and Woe's actions and holds onto Haramholds hand "Well then, let us begin shall we? The sooner we make the Nexus the sooner The Weaver gets back with help and the sooner I can get my armies to arrive." He says "Now if only Jongo could be here to contribute.....

    Catching Fire

    Miranda and her Wraiths lost.

    Well, perhaps lost is too strong of a term. They failed to stop the Forgeborn advance. But that did not mean they were down and out. Recuperating from the fight the remaining Wraiths regrouped around Miranda and raised forth every dead body that wasn't already raised before. With that they sent the unthinking corpses forward, their bones creaking as they sprint, heedless of their own survival.

    With that done they flew away, uncaring of the wounded soldiers or the disorientated combatants. They would just slow the Wraiths down and time was precious. Flying through the air on wings of death, they eventually slid beneath the earth and hid themselves from sight. They snuck up on the town, silent reapers each of them. She only vaguely knew the name of the town from Contragh's billowing orders. Allium? Sounded about right.

    What it was named didn't matter. Not anymore atleast. Taking up their positions the Wraiths flew out of the ground and ransacked the entire village in a moments notice. Scything down and butchering the inhabitants before they could even scream. This would make for a far more suitable distraction from their sheer bulk. With a flick of the wrist the newly made mindless horde made it's march after the Forgeborn, their bones never tiring and able to keep an almost sprinting like pace with ease. Rising forth from the ground Miranda swung her sword forward, sending her Wraith's surging to meet the Forgeborn from the rear, hopefully recieving the aid of their newly made allies upon arrival.
    “I’m a Terrorist not an idiot.” - Me
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  7. - Top - End - #1027
    Ettin in the Playground
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    Default Re: Heroes of the Fall

    The Digger & The Wealer

    As Jethro looked around at the pure carnage, and yet wondrous sights which he's never seen, he heard a rush of wind and a melodious hum. Looking down, he beheld a being of power, one he could tell was not a God and yet seemed... touched by divine power. Regardless, no-one had yet come to the gates, save for the guards on post with their weapons leveled to him, so from behind Jethro's back sprouted tendrils of the in-between light, upon which he floated gently and slowly through the air. With the thud of his moccasins upon the earth, the tendrils retracted, and before the Lord of Weal and Woe was an Old Man, one with the spark of a Goddess who died.

    Jethro stood a good twenty feet away, his shovel held in one hand by the shaft, with old eyes looking directly at the being he was unfamiliar with. Jethro stood there for a few moments, looking at him, wondering what he should do... well, the basic thing to do was obviously an introduction. Jethro drove the tip of the shovel into the ground, leaning on it slightly with both hands resting on its handle.

    "My name is Jethro. Who- or what- are you?"
    I've started streaming again.


    78% of DM's started their first campaign in a tavern. If you're one of the 22% that didn't, copy and paste this into your signature.

    I started my first campaign outside of an abandoned mine, just as soon as a meteor storm from the moon hits.

  8. - Top - End - #1028
    Ettin in the Playground
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    Default Re: Heroes of the Fall

    Salus

    The falcon heralded her coming. It came first, like a silver dart from heaven, and landed upon the butt of the spear of the Lord of Weal and Woe. It spread its wings once, twice, thrice, and then was still.

    The cloud came against the wind, and swift, and as it approached it was no cloud at all but a carpet, undaunted by rain and wind and lightning-crack. The figure sitting atop it, legs crossed and light cradled in her arms, was untouched by water or gale or thunder-roll.

    The carpet shot towards Salus, and descended before the gates. The figure rose to her full, unintimidating height, and her face shone with the glory of the Phoenix. Her eyes were the sun on the fur of the lioness on the hunt, her hair was as pure as the deepest dusk and her skin was as unblemished as the diamonds of the White City, and there were inside her the colors of the Phoenix that are every color in the world, displayed to their most glorious and fulfillment; these her siblings had not seen before, save Sonata her sister, and of all goddesses, Fayruz Dragonslayer, Princess of the Olm, Maiden of Dusk and Lady of the Healing Song was most beautiful and terrible, and to look upon her was to know loveliness. In her hand was the light of Dawn, the first and most terrifying to everything of the Dark, and on her back was the Harp of Dusk.

    She stepped off the carpet and was nearly bowled over by the wind and the rain. But she kept her feet, she brushed her hair from her face, and she stood before the Lord of Weal and Woe.

    "Herald of Twilight!" She said, her voice the whisper that sounded clearly in the midst of the storm. "The world spins into unbalance, and you are found wanting at your post. Stand and be judged by your master's daughter for your negligence!" And if you looked very closely, and you were properly trained, you could see the fear in her eyes.



    Jongoscion

    On nights of cold and street of gold we hold
    The charm of come and go and so we know
    The secret of the wit-boys dancing on
    The pale water cold, be bold
    For genii come to flute and drum and strum
    The harp of bone unknown; its tone that shone
    On light and blight it drove upon the height
    To fall from wall so tall and out to crawl.
    Now be the song and all be strong; the wrong
    Is cruel, to drive out luck, to be fatestruck.

    Be this the song: we dance and pray
    That dawn will be here soon
    And night be stolen far from here
    Under her light, the moon

    Be this the song: oh sea-lads hear
    And grant us peace tonight.
    Alight your eyes, the scattered gems;
    The dark, put now to flight.

    Be this our song: the Olm, we sing
    The praises of our Maid,
    But genii come, we pray,
    To now come make us unafraid.

    On nights of cold and street of gold we hold
    The charm of come and go and so we know
    The secret of the wit-boys dancing on
    The pale water cold, be bold, be bold.
    freedom in the flame

    Spoiler
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    Quote Originally Posted by PhoeKun View Post
    Raz, you scoundrel! You planned this!
    Quote Originally Posted by BladeofObliviom View Post
    Great, and now I'm imagining what Raz's profile on a dating site would look like. "Must be okay with veils."
    Quote Originally Posted by Kasanip View Post
    I don't think there is such a time to have veils that it is not the fault of Raz_Fox.
    Quote Originally Posted by Dervag View Post
    It's a freaking Romulan dump truck. The Romulans are no more likely to build an unarmed warp-capable ship than they are to become a hippy commune.

  9. - Top - End - #1029
    Ogre in the Playground
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    Default Re: Heroes of the Fall

    Silvar watched the Lord of Weal and Woe go. Perhaps he had judged that one prematurely. Silvar still didnt trust him. In either case, the army of Forgeborn had to be stopped, and they were a priority. The strong prey would keep. Now was the time to press their advantage against the Forgeborn -- their advantage being that the creatures were focused more on reaching Salus than on their own defense.

    He turned to the two remaining gods on board and then looked towards the advancing Forgeborn, and shrugged.
    He seems, if not sincere, then harmless for the moment. I will go to assist Sonata, Jongo, and Kalandor on the ground. Perhaps I can assist in slowing their advance.

    With that, Silvar took a few steps and leaped off the side of the Morningstar, form shifting even as he fell into that of a monstrous bat, with a wingspan that stretched as long as some trees were tall, and flew towards the Forgeborn.

    Noticing the undead advancing from behind, Silvar smiled tightly. So Contragh had brought troops. How fortunate that he had thought to bring those.

    I wonder what he was planning on using them for had he not faced this sudden threat.

    Swooping down briefly by the skeletons, Silvar nodded to the wraiths, then clapped his hands. As he did so, the skeletons' shadows slowly crept up their legs, torso, and arms, wreathing them in darkness, strengthening their limbs and making them more difficult to see, and more fearsome. Then he was up and away, leaping back into his bat form and soaring towards the Forgeborn.

    As he flew, the shadows beneath him seemed to stretch and grow. Slowly, some of them twiched, severing the connection between themselves and their parent objects, swarming fowards towards the Forgeborn. As the shadows touched molten flesh, they slid up and onto it, smothering it, slowing it, weakening it. And more fell behind, to be slaughtered by the waiting undead. Others were covered by more shadows and simply vanished, both Forgeborn and shadows vanishing as if neither had ever existed. And the march of the Forgeborn continued.
    My Homebrew:
    WIP
    The Fortunar Base Class: A Fortuneteller wielding a minor Deck of Many Things. Mid T3.

    Completed Classes
    The Grandmaster : A master of animated stattuettes and tactical magic. High tier 3.
    The Hidden Word: An infiltrator with a wide range of abilities that works best in small teams. Tier 2-3
    Web-Spinner: A martial class based around using webs. Mid T3.
    The True Warrior: A swift mundane martial combat class that can dodge and slice their way to victory. Low Tier 3.

  10. - Top - End - #1030
    Ogre in the Playground
     
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    Lors - a Journal Entry

    Oh sweet merciful colors, I haven't written anything in this journal in what seems like months. It's only been a few weeks - two, at most - but in all my years, I swear I haven't had busier weeks.

    First, there was the Fox. Tricky little bugger. He played around in my shadow and talked and mocked me. I think he was with Lady Iris, so, to be polite, I simply nodded to him and let him talk and dance. Quite frankly, I think that was all he did. Still... I do remember the conversation. His sing-song style of speech is hard to forget.

    "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!"

    "If you must know, little fox, I am apparently not entirely a native. I just found out myself a little while ago. And... now I'm telling a fox about it. Ha." Looking down at him, I just shook my head with a grin. "The funny part isn't that I'm talking with a fox, you see. It's that talking with a fox is somehow less weird than what I've just been through."

    And so I sat down and told him. Told this strange fox that my name was Lors, and that I was apparently the First-touched of Jongo. (And yes... that's still happening. Color and my handwriting are changing shape as soon as finishing penning the name. Fantastic.) I told the fox that I had been visited by a nattering and chattering man who - it turns out - has less in common with a man then with a dolphin.

    A very loud dolphin who - in politest terms - enjoys the sound of his own voice. A lot. But I'm straying from my point.

    My point is that I was telling this fox things that I don't think I could tell anyone else. And he - the fox, that is - just listened. I felt a strange kinship with him; and all because he listened. I really could tell he was paying attention, too.

    That's... so rare for me these days. Someone actually listening. I'll write more about what he said afterwards. After I talk about the dream. But I do remember the last thing I said to him was, "And now I know about Jongo, and the world, instead of making less sense, finally fits together. Isn't that odd?"

    But I digress. The dream.

    The dream was terrible. It was, in all senses of the word, a nightmare. Chains. Agony. Madness. Two red eyes, peering from the darkness.

    I woke screaming, which of course disturbed my guest.

    "First-touched, are you all right? Did you hurt yourself? Is there anything I can do to help? Creator-Father-Mother always said that I was terrible at first aid, but I'm willing to try if you've injured yourself. Auntie Rose taught us that we should always at least offer to help, because that's what's expected of us, and when there is no reason not to, you should always do what is expected of you, unless the other person expects that you be unexpected."

    "Charlie." I had to say his name several times to get his attention.

    "Yes?" I could sense he was going to say more, so just waved it away.

    "I'm fine. It was a nightmare."

    "What is a night... mare?"

    "A bad dream."

    "Uncle Rodney shouldn't allow dreams like that." Frankly, I still have no clue who Uncle Rodney is, but considering that I've heard Charlie calling Fayruz 'Auntie Flower', I have my suspicions.

    Still... "Whether he allowed this or not, it happens. It was rather... odd, though."

    "How so?"


    Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth - not when they are finally using short sentences - I tried to answer as best I could. "Have you ever woken up from a dream - good or bad - and felt confused? Unsure if you were waking into reality, or falling asleep into a dream? It's... disorienting."

    "That is not something that I can say has ever happened to me, First-touched. I remember one time when I..."


    I cut him off, because I needed to explain, "Well, believe me. It's disorienting when it happens. It takes you a little while to figure out where you are and what's going on."

    Charlie just looked at me, still confused as far as I could tell. I continued, "This dream, though... this nightmare. It felt even more real than that. Like some foul taste in the air. Some massive scream of suffering."

    Just my luck. I mention screaming, and it happens. Somewhere outside, a woman's shrill shriek of terror echoes in the night. Charlie, to his credit, was right behind me and out the door of my tiny home before either I or he could really think about the fact that we were running towards the scream, instead of away from it.

    I heard the sobbing first. Someone was begging for her life, barely at whisper. "Please. Please. Just... let me go. It was only a little bread."

    The voice I heard respond seemed to be filled with dread. Filled with hatred. "A little bread taken from another mouth. You would see them starve only to feed yourself. You have been judged. The vision proves it."

    I turned the corner to see a grisly sight. A man in a dark robe, barely able to be seen in the moonlight, was grasping on to two ends of a rusty chain. The middle of the chain was wrapped around the neck of a sobbing woman. At her feet lay a half of a loaf of bread, that I swear was probably at least a day old, though I think back now and don't know where that thought came from. The important thing at that moment was that the woman was obviously in pain, and soon could not even plead for mercy as the chain began choking the life from her.

    I let the colors show. They would help me see what I had to do next.

    And while the woman was a reddish haze of slowly fading blue, the man in the cloak, intent on his task and hate in his voice... was a complete void of color.

    Not black. Black was a color.

    This man had no color at all. I couldn't see him. He... wasn't connected.

    If I wasn't already moving towards them, that alone would have had me doing so. But my haste to help had carried me this far, and I wasn't going to let a little surprise slow me down.

    "Let her go, um, whoever you are!" As words of heroism, they weren't the best or most inspiring, but they did get the man in the dark robe to respond.

    "I am the Holy Worker. The Savior from Further Pain. My hands are the hands of my Lord, and they shall not be stopped. Not when I face such wretchedness as this one." He tugged on the rusty chain harder, and if the woman had any air left, it was being squeezed out now.

    "She stole some bread. It wasn't right, but it's not worth killing her over."

    "I thought as you, but then I just had a vision. A vision of absolute truth. There will be no mercy for the wicked. No mercy for those who make others suffer!"

    Completely insane, right? At least I thought so. I did the only thing I could think of when faced with such a ridiculous person.

    I ran forward and tackled the guy. 58 years old, a master shaman of things I don't think even I fully understand still... and I just fly through the air and tackle him.

    Seems like a good idea at the time. And, oddly enough, it worked. Sort of. He let go of the chain, and we rolled around on the ground for a bit. I was trying to get a look at him under his hood, but that dark robe and the moonlight, red since the dance I was born, kept his face covered. And the complete void of color around him... It only let show his eyes once; I know it had to be the moonlight reflected in them, because otherwise they were glowing red like the nightmare I just had.

    We tussled and I'm sorry to say that he got the better of me. I'm old. I shouldn't get into fist fights. Whoever this "Holy Worker" is, he's probably at least 20 years younger than me, because he knocked me senseless. I was lying on the ground, dazed, as he walked back over to the poor girl and grabbed the ends of the chains again.

    He pulled hard. She let out one more scream, exactly like the one we'd heard a while ago. He put his sandaled foot in her stomach, and pulled even harder.

    Her head just... disappeared.

    There was no blood. No scream. It wasn't a decapitation, because there was no head rolling around, as sick as that would have been to witness. It was just... gone.

    I stared in horror for a few seconds, feeling sorry for myself. I couldn't save her. I'd tried and failed. I'd even had the nightmare to warn me this would happen, and I hadn't moved quick enough. But then I looked at the so-called Holy Worker.

    With that last pull of the chain, and with the force he applied with his foot, he'd fallen on his backside, the chain still in both hands, loose from what had once been the woman's neck. From the way he was scrambling away, still on his back, he hadn't expected the head to just... vanish like that.

    He was just as shocked as I was. I tried to use that to my advantage, and to get up and head towards him again, but all I could do was heroically moan while lying on the ground.

    That must have snapped him out of it, because he fumbled up off of the ground and ran like a nightmare of his own was chasing him. Before I could catch my breath and sit up straight, he was gone into the night, and I could not even see the void of colors anymore.

    I looked over at the headless woman, and just felt useless.

    "Ow. That hurt quite a bit more than I expected it to. I mean, all I did was shape shift my head into something very small, but he still kicked me. That wasn't very nice of him, First-touched. But it was very brave of you to tackle him like that. Honestly, though, if you were thinking straight, you probably should have wacked him over the head with something before you tried tackling him. Are you all right?" Charlie's head was slowly growing back onto the woman's body. It was clearly her body, but... that was the plain face with the toothy grin that I'd met before.

    He saw me looking confused, I guess, because he pointed behind him into an alley. The woman - head still attached - was passed out. "I hope I wasn't too rough when I tossed her in there. I only had a few seconds to wrap the chain around my neck and get the scream right. Seriously, First-touched, are you all right?"

    I only stared at him, speechless.

    I'm sorry to say that that wasn't the last I saw of the 'Holy Worker', but it was also not the last time I saw Charlie leave me amazed.

    Spoiler
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    I sat down to write what would happen with Jongo... and then this happened, lol. I decided to let it flow, because it works.

    More on Jongo in a day or two!
    Last edited by Gengy; 2013-01-10 at 05:14 PM.
    Spoiler
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    BladeofObliviom said:
    I've only seen a character at anything resembling this level of absurdity thrive exactly once, and he/she/what-the-jongo had the advantage of being written by Gengy, who I look up to as a writer.

    "What-the-Jongo?"
    Before you insult someone, walk a mile in their shoes.
    That way, you'll be a mile away, and have their shoes!

    Got me a Real Job™ (yay!). Still busy (boo!).
    ~avatar by myself

  11. - Top - End - #1031
    Ettin in the Playground
     
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    Horror

    Rose saved the life of the being that had once been Khalen-Het.

    As the Lord of Suffering soared over the oceans towards the Sea of Jongo, he took the time to reflect on the things he had learned.

    The creature, "Jongo", was a sibling to himself, made by the same creator. Yet while he saught to bring order and stability to the disk, Jongo appeared to willingly embrace chaos and change and then inflict them on others. The curious thing was that the dolphins had willingly embraced the corruption inflicted upon them...but why?

    So wrapped up in his thoughts, the Lord of Suffering almost didn't see the subtle changes in the pattern of the waves ahead of him and would have gone barrelling into the Sea of Jongo. His mind sensed a Spark ahead of him - another sibling - and he halted.

    The Spark seemed to flicker and fade, one minute bright and clear, vanishing the next. Constantly going through a series of subtle changes in strength, and colour, to the Lord of Suffering it appeared as though the Spark was trying to camoflague itself. If it was the Spark of Jongo, it would make sense that it would be unstable or trying to avoid discovery...

    "Always be mindful of your surroundings."

    It was a lesson that had been drummed into the children repeatedly by the War Masters of the White City. During their sparring, the spirits that taught them the basics of combat would often take great pleasure in subtly altering the ground and air around them as they sparred with their siblings. Solid flagstone would change to sinking mire and gentle zephyrs would turn into howling gales.


    As the Lord of Suffering examined the view before him, his senses were screaming at him that something was wrong. The was the source of the corruption and yet the sea before him seemed calm and tranquil. The black storm clouds hung in the clear and sunny sky, while the mountain-sized waves rolled in the calm and gentle sea below.

    Was this some illusion?

    As he continued to stare at the sea before him, the air seemed to crackle and hiss, swimming and out of focus. Marshalling his power, he focused intently, trying to scry the the truth of the land before him. Then, like a man straining against a stuck door tumbles into the room behind it, the Lord of Suffering's view snapped back into focus and he saw the horrifying majesty of the Chaos Realm.

    The skies above the ocean were thick with storms, the winds spinning and swirling as though in a hurricane. Arcs of lightning ripped the clouds apart, flashing in all the colours of the rainbow. Huge waves surged together like mountains attempting to mate and fought with hungry whirlpools that devoured the waters around them.

    Suddenly a wave ahead of him erupted and a monster burst through the surface of the sea. A twisted fusion of metal and the bones of some long dead sea creature, it was half the size of the Tower of Baal and armed with teeth the size of greatswords. The shark-like leviathan slammed into the ocean beneath it, swimming away into the endless depths.

    For the first time in what seemed like aeons, the Lord of Suffering felt a flicker of fear.

  12. - Top - End - #1032
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    Arrival

    Salus was like a beacon in Ouran's mind - deep blue lights twirled, entwined and danced here, weaving into a beautiful tapestry that glowed bright like a blue sun. He couldn't have told anyone who or what all was there, but he could feel at least a few beings like he and Jongo amongst them. Mostly, though, the energy felt... off. It roared and pressed against his mind like the heat of a flame, yet... it did not dance, as fire did.

    He opened his eyes to an overhead view of the lands below him. As they came upon Salus, he saw the army of forgeborn, attacking the once proud and majestic city. He saw a massive being of stone, attacking the men of lava. He saw a four-headed beast, and felt the power of Jongo coil and dance within it. He 'felt', rather than saw, a being with the unwavering strength of a mountain. He felt a being of beauty so great and terrible he felt himself weeping.

    ... Well, he DID want to see what the world had to offer.

    He and Sihlk landed before they actually reached the battle. They looked at each other.

    ... So... what's happening?

    I'm as lost as you are. He put a wing on her shoulder, and she flinched as something flowed into her. I'm gonna go kick some lava-boy ass. Stay safe, alright?

    She blinked and tilted her head. What did you just do?... And why can I see out of both eyes now?

    ...You were blind in one eye?

    Yeah, for about a week now. Wanted to try something new.

    ... Yeaaaaah. Just... do whatever you do when a war starts.

    Run in circle screaming 'AH WE'RE GONNA DIE' in terror?

    ... Second thought, I'm sure Jongo had some of her people with her, we-.

    Him.

    Stop correcting me on his gender, it-

    Her. She grinned toothily. You mad?

    Ouran promptly flew off.

    Wait, you didn't tell me what- Oh forget it. She flew off. Next time, I'm deciding where we go.

    Spoiler
    Show
    3/6/2
    1MA - Make Sihlk an Exarch.
    Sihlk's Ability: Polymorphy (original, isn't it? And by that i mean no it's not.)
    2/6/2


    -----
    Ouran

    A huge lizard-beast crashed from the sky. From it's massive jaws came a roar that put terror into the hearts of even the bravest of men. It had a pair of vestigal arms on it's leathery neck, but that was the least of one's worries when looking at a beast this unnatural size. It had two massive legs rippling with muscles, ending in hooked talons the color of obsidian. It had a tail that could sweep aside entire squads in a single movement, and every one of it's massive teeth was sharp to a point.

    Ouran had used this form before to take on Althra, and the situation was much more desperate now. He had altered this body so it would be resistant to fire, and he had given himself an even larger size so he could stomp on more.

    He stomped his talons, ignoring the searing heat of the lava-people.

    Sihlk had hidden herself amongst the guards of the city, fighting the forgeborn with the ordinary mortals.

    Spoiler
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    Everything i write feels like crap.
    Last edited by HalfTangible; 2013-01-14 at 01:02 AM.
    Hate me if you want. But that's your issue to fix, not mine.

    Primal ego vos, estis ex nihilo.

    When Gods Go To War comes out March 8th

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  13. - Top - End - #1033
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    Entrapment

    The Lord of Suffering examined the swirling maelstrom before him, his initial fear beginning to subside, replaced by a cold and relentless train of thought.

    Jongo had managed to corrupt an exceedingly large section of ocean and the sheer scale of the corruption was greater than he had anticipated. Reversing it would be quite beyond his capabilities for the moment, so he would need to take a different approach.

    A lone Jongoscion skipped along the calm surface of the sea behind the Lord of Suffering, unaware of the sinister wraith above him. The Lord of Suffering could only marvel at the creature’s bravery as it splashed along to the churning ocean and storm completely unfazed by it. Then something odd happened. As the Jongoscion passed from sea into the swirling vortex of madness, the ocean flickered again and for a moment he saw the Jongoscion swimming on a very different and considerably gentler expanse of water.

    Yet as he made ready to follow the strange creature, the chaotic sea came back into view. If anything it looked even more ferocious and imposing than it did a moment ago.

    Duality.

    The Lord of Suffering understood. The ocean before him reacted to the will of those that would traverse it. For those friendly to Chaos, the sea would be calm and friendly, whereas for him…he did not doubt that it would be somewhat less than welcoming.

    He descended until he was level with the ocean’s surface, the waves stopping just short of his feet. He closed his eyes for a moment and shifted. When he opened them again he found himself looking at a very different world. The physical world around him seemed muted and insubstantial, the smell of salt spray and crashing of the waves had faded to nothing. What lay before him however, was incredible.

    It was a wall of some sort and as the Lord of Suffering gazed to his left and right, it stretched on and on over countless miles, curving very slightly. He guessed that this wall marked the boundary of Jongo’s realm…but something was out of place.

    The wall itself was a swirling mass of colours – a living rainbow that danced and twisted. Gazing upon it made him feel nauseous. Yet amongst the swirling colours were large iron plates, dotted with spikes and sharp ridges designed to flay the flesh from anything that touched them. The edges of the plates seemed to be formed of mercury, blending into the rainbow swirls around them.

    Interesting, he thought. The iron was most definitely not the work of Jongo – it was solid, orderly and whilst it meshed with the coloured miasma around it, the iron was a very different entity. There was only one possible explanation – another sibling was working with Jongo. Who that sibling was, he couldn’t guess. From the shadows of his mind, he heard the clash of swords and screams of the dying.

    A smile formed on the Lord of Suffering’s face and it was truly awful to behold. So, two of his siblings had joined together in song to create a home and a fortress. Speaking a language that could only be the voice of creation itself, he added his own song to the chorus before him.

    The iron plates began to grow, the mercury around the edges solidifying into metal and reaching out to obscure the rainbow. The spikes on the plates lengthened and reached out to their neighbours, forming a spider’s web of razor sharp steel. His song grew and spread across the surface of the wall, like a virus that devoured and choked the rainbow coloured life around it. Beneath the surface of twisted metal, flashes of rainbow could still be seen, yet the iron around it continued to develop until it was a hard iron shell.

    Pleased with his work, the Lord of Suffering closed his eyes and shifted again, returning to the normal world. It looked the same as before; calm ocean behind him with the Chaos realm ahead. The Jongoscion was swimming back towards him and yet as it approached the barrier, its movement got slower and slower, until it stopped completely. It looked deeply puzzled.

    He nodded at his work and flew away. For he knew that with only a few small changes, the most loving home, the mightiest fortress…

    …could become a prison.

    Spoiler
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    Acts used - 1 Major

    Interfering with the Chaos Realm and the defences set up by Contragh so that all those within it such as the Jongoscion are trapped there. Just to clarify: there is *NOT* a huge great iron barrier around the Sea of Jongo - it looks exactly the same as it always has - the business with the rainbows and iron plates was a metaphorical representation of what Khalen has done.

    The barrier affects those at Exarch level or lower. Rose can probably wriggle her way out just as Jongo could probably wriggle his way in. For now though, those Jongoscion not at Salus are imprisoned in the Sea of Jongo.
    Last edited by The Succubus; 2013-01-19 at 11:27 AM.

  14. - Top - End - #1034
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    The Nexus, a design that Haramhold has spent the last forty years working on but now when it came to its completion there was no time. Figures. Those few who had traveled across the face countless leagues of the disk here to help with its completion, Contragh, Silvar, Kalandor, The Weaver and of course Jongo; was more than Haramhold had hoped for. Together they formed a circle linked hand in hand and gathered their power.

    Haramhold reached for his divine spark and began the ceremony. The disc exists in four dimensions, length, width, height,and spirit. A manipulation of the first three allows the realm of Salus to be bigger on the inside, while the quiet lands and the dream lands almost exclusively exist in the fifth. What the gods gathered here meant to add another dimension to this list. The Nexus, a Dimension entirely separate from the others.

    Splitting off a segment of his spark Haramhold began by creating a bubble which warped the existing dimensions around it forcing its way into the fabric of creation. As the dimension expanded it began to gather an unstoppable momentum which permiated the entirety of the disc.

    But it was an empty void devoid of all things physical and spiritual, so once again Haramhold drew forth more of his spark and began to fill that void. He could feel his siblings weave their own sparks into the nothingness as well. creating what they saw fit. For Haramhold he began with creating a series of focal points a seemingly endless number scattered throughout the void, and so the Nexus gained length, width and height. More spark flew into Nexus condensing around those focal points becoming rock, stone, crystal, metal , wood, water and air. There were so many that only a couple dozen of these floating islands formed as Haramhold intended, with strong foundations and configurations similar to that of the disc. Other islands were shaped to the will of other gods, but many of the focal points found there own shape and design with out guidance. The shapes they took would for a moment confuse even Jongo's imagination.

    As the Nexus was filled and shaped one focal point began to attract the others. Perhaps it had received a larger portion of divine spark, perhaps it was mere happenstance, no one knew. But it attracted the others and became the center of the Nexus.

    And so the Nexus was born but it was along utterly separated from the rest of the disc. So Haramhold grabbed the strongest focal point and the space around his physical form and with his sparked willed them together. It was like super gluing two like ends of a magnet together. Rock tore itself out of the ground around the gathered gods, flying into the air, forming a perfect arch twenty feet tall, runes of power burned themselves into the rock, binding the disc and the Nexus together at this point. The air under the arch flickered for a second then gave way connecting the two dimensions as the first gate to the Nexus was formed.

    The Nexus info
    Spoiler
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    The Nexus is a seperate dimension from the disc. It is comprised of numerous focal points where islands have formed. It is these focal points where the potential for gates are, so only one per island. These islands are suspended in the air connected by bridges.

    Islands
    Spoiler
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    Each Island's design is completely up to whoever describes it first, but it needs to meet one restriction.
    1) It has 1-3 bridges connecting it to other islands. These bridges can have any feasible design or materials as long as its transverse-able. A stone bridge is just as acceptable as a column of water that must be swam across.

    Composition
    The island can be made of any combination of materials you want. DON"T abuse this, no islands made of pure gold, or iron or whatnot.

    The light issue
    The Nexus has no source of light independent of the islands, so unless you want the island you create to be pitch black you will need to add some sort of light source.

    Size
    The islands can be any size you want but remember that these are small islands, no continents should be popping up, keep it small.

    Gravity
    Each island has its own gravity source in any direction you want, up down left right it doesn't matter, this can create some interesting transitions between islands. The strength of the gravity can vary, I trust you all to keep it reasonable, nothing that would kill a normal human.

    modifications
    You can modify the islands after they have been created using the same rules for modifying areas of the disc.

    Animal/plant life
    Any non-sentient animal or plant can be placed here. Populations will be obviously small given the size of the islands.

    example island
    This Island is the basic layout for one of the Islands Haramhold made during the creation of the Nexus. It should be noted that all of the gravity directions of these islands line up perfectly. This can be used as the standard template for any of the isles if you don't feel like creating a new design yourself.

    The island's basic shape is a half sphere with a diameter of two miles. The top of the sphere is covered with dirt, grass, a few patches of trees and a fresh water spring. Off to one side the ground rises up to a steep but small mountain, the spring flows from its peak and winds its way throughout the island finally ending in a small pond. Large crystals dot the landscape ranging from pebble size to thrusting monoliths. Each crystal emits a bright light. Most of them emit pure white light but the presence of Color Magic in Salus has unintentionally causes a tenth of them to shine with their own unique color. These crystals are not limited to the surface but continue in veins through the entirety of the isle. The dirt is about fifteen feet deep where it sits on strong stone. This base is mostly made of plain rock but chunks of Marble, granite, veins of precious metals and crystal can be found throughout it.

    The center isle the one the gate to Salus is located is a very large version of this, perhaps four and a half miles in diameter.


    Gates
    Spoiler
    Show

    Gates require one major act to create. They can be destroyed/disabled with the proper application of power and plot.

    Gates are the portals between the disc and the Nexus, they can be any size, made from any materials and have any transition set up that its creator wishes.

    You can only create gates to places you have physically been.


    Geography of the Nexus
    Spoiler
    Show

    At the center of the Nexus is the Salus gate, the islands are fairly close together here around a hundred meters apart. The islands that the gods have directly affected during the Nexus's creation will tend to be closer to the center, although even some of Haramhold initial design isles can be found quite a ways away from the Salus Gate. As one travels away from the center two things happen. First the isles get farther and farther apart, there bridges needing to span a distance of miles sometimes. Second the number of isles that formed themselves independent of any template Haramhold or any other god have cooked up at the Nexus's creation. They can get strange Have fun with their designs I sure know I will.

    New gates can be placed on any isle and these can connect to any part of the disc (as long as you've been there). So our Gates can be on an adjacent isle or several away your choice.




    Act expediture
    Spoiler
    Show

    1 Ceramony- Create Nexus
    1 minor act- Create gate to Nexus
    6/2/2
    Last edited by shorewood; 2013-01-16 at 07:23 PM.
    Sometimes it is useful to know how large your zero is. ~Author Unknown

  15. - Top - End - #1035
    Ettin in the Playground
     
    Tychris1's Avatar

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    Default Re: Heroes of the Fall

    It was........ Glorious.

    Hundreds upon hundreds of raw material and the willpower to manipulate it lied infront of Contragh. It was chaotic, hectic, and had a life of it's own. Yet it held great potential for order and construction, as shown by Haramhold. Reaching out, he grasped at the raw materials that lay within his grasp, and he began moulding. Rapidly melding, seperating, and colliding pieces together as he began to manipulate his focal point. Yet, each time he did so he found it lacking, one piece was too tall, one too thick, there were too many entrances, there were too few. Contragh continued at this, dispensing of his failures and tossing them aside before starting anew on a fresh piece. Yet Contragh's spark powered these actions, and his spark yearned to corrupt and control. His discarded refuse did not merely deteriorate away, instead they seemed to remain, and began to attract towards the center of the energy that composed them.

    Finally Contragh had perfected the basics for his island, and he soon set upon the details. With a flick of his hand he took examples from the disk itself and from the war torn zones he left in his wake. His island was not a verdant paradise, with vibrant colors and life blooming. His island was an apocolyptic wasteland. The dirt was grey, wasted, and burnt. Skeletons of men and beasts long dead littered the land. Only the most adapted and hardy plants could survive, while roaming packs of rabid blood thirsty Phagos hunted the desert plains, scavenging any food they can. Craters littered the island, scorch marks rimming their outsides before coating over time and acting as breeding pits for the most revolting parasites and vermin to infest the disk. Tar like pits bubbled and frothed, yet they did not melt and envelop those who entered, for they were quasi intelligent Soul Pools, yearning to envelop the dead to create the mindless undead. But life, no matter how vicious and hardy, cannot be supported without light. And so Contragh created a great gout of flame, a massive blue ball of fire that writhed with anguished spirits. Lying beneath the ball of fire was a blanket of thick grey clouding, obscuring the bright light and casting a gloom across his island. Looking to the borders he crafted the outer rims of the island, encircling the island in a short spiked wall curved back. Each of the two entrances were the open maws of skeleton dragons, their rib cages acting as a shielding for when one first entered the island. Finally, in a mighty blast in the center, he finished his island and created the gate to Fex.

    Contragh's Island
    Spoiler
    Show
    I decided to jump in a different direction from Shorewood when designing Contragh's island. So i'll take it step by step,

    Bridge: The bridge to Contragh's island is a standard black brick and mortar bridge with the occasional green fire torch dotting it to light the way.

    Gravity: The gravity on Contragh's island is fairly strong, strong enough to force a normal human being who is not resisting to bend over as if he were bowing in subservience. If one were to be a quadruped, fairly strong, or have a low center of gravity then they would not notice much of a difference.

    Size: Think something along the lines of Rhode Island, maybe a bit smaller, like three quarters.

    Composition: The island is made of a conglomeration of things. The ground itself is made of dried out, crusty, grave dirt. The island is a half sphere that goes about 20 feet downwards. If one were to dig they would only find more dirt, the occasional corpse, and then would fall through the hole. Soul Pools also litter the landscape alongside corpses, granted a semblance of intelligence due to the sheer concentration of Contragh's spark in one confined area. Said sentience could best be described as drone like and single minded, "Devour all corpses", and they care for little else. All ores and irons on the island have been taken out and used to form a 15-20 foot tall half dome that has had it's top cut off. Spikes protrude out of the iron and jut in every direction to ward off intruders and guard Contragh from all threats or spies, even the prying eyes of his siblings. The entrances are two duplicated versions of Pikep's corpse that have had their lower ends blown off to act as a way into the island once they walk through the mouth (With the lower jaw of the mouth having sunken beneath the dirt). For all intents and purposes one could describe his island as a "Nuclear Wasteland".

    Animal/Plant life: The plant life is sparse, with small patches of dead gray grass lying about, burnt trees that have bent over long ago, and the occasional cactus like plant that survives through sheer survival of the fittest. Animals are treated the same, with only mighty Phagos truly thriving on the arid plains, and the parasites and vermin that crawl beneath their feet feasting on all that they leave aside. To venture into Contragh's island is a testament of skill and bravery, for every creature within it would rip you apart and pick you to the bone. Skeletons of several different kinds litter the fields despite their originators never living their in the first place.

    Special: One of the special quirks about Contragh's island is the floating remants of what it might have once been. These balls of garbage are virulently INFESTED with the corrupting dark magic that Contragh wields. Each part of the wall that he didn't like and his original idea of "Towers" were crumpled up and thrown aside. But they now drift around the island like meteors around a solar system. Each one a spiked metal ball straining to contain the horrid black contents within, some even sporting archer towers imbued and melded into them. The most accurate word to describe these junk heaps are "Land Mines of Dark Divine magic" that melt flesh and bone to nothing when they burst open, killing indiscriminately. Occasionally one will drift into the island and detonate, creating a new crater, soul pool, or a pack of undead Phagos to hunt the land.


    Of Magic and Necromancy

    Walking through the portal, Contragh entered the Military District of Fex. The men around him were suprised to see the gate spontaneously appear and were even more surprised to see Contragh pass through it. Calming them with a gesture he ordered them to rally every warmachine and soldier in the district and get them through the gate. They scampered off immedieately, rushing to gather men before Contragh strode forward. With but a gesture he instantly conjured every Wraith in the city and a 40 mile radius around him. With a flick of the wrist they flew forward into the gate, their unquestioning loyalty caused them to care little of the gates sudden appearance or purpose, only that it meant something to Contragh. Shifting into a Dragon he took up wings and flew to his castle, landing at a smaller fort a ways away from it. As he landed he was met with shouts of fervor and praise, the people within flooding out to meet and praise their lord. Contragh hushed them, and soon addressed his subjects "Come my children, time is of the essence. Over the past 25 years I invented and taught you the art of Necromongery, and you have all grown and became strong as I molded you. But today we do not practice anymore, today we show the world what I have truly made, and what you have worked for for most of your lives. Today we bring your magic to the field of battle against foes of magma and rock, and today the whole disk shall see the true power and greatness that lies within me." The robed and armored humans shouted in agreement before grabbing a hold of their axes, fetishes, staves, books, and arsenal of other weaponry. Screaming a blood thirsty battle cry they surged forward towards the military district, hastened by Contragh's own divine magic. A sly grin on the Conqueror's face, he began to flap his leathery wings and leave through the gate. Behind him trailed 300 of his battle hardened city defenders, 30 war machines of varying designs, 25 Wraiths, Louise the White Knight of Fex himself (With his Phagos cavaliers), and the entirety of Contragh's Cabal. And so Contragh's armies marched to Salus, intent on slaying anything that stood between Contragh and his goals, no matter what.

    Act Expenditure:
    Spoiler
    Show

    1 Ceremony: Create the Nexus
    1 Minor Act: Create Fex Gate
    1 Major Act: Gain Ability: Battle Magic [Necromonger]
    2 Major Acts: Create the school of magic Necromongery:
    Spoiler
    Show
    Necromongery is a form of magic that truly epitomizes Contragh. It is a primarily offensive branch of magic with some innate utility (That with some clever thinking and enough power can be used for defense). Necromongery is the manipulation of spiritual energy and the very life that exists on the Disk. One can create undead of varying shapes and sizes, rip the life straight out of a man's chest, send forth erratic black bolts of entropic power, and even heal ones self at the cost of another's life. It is a purely self serving, corrupting form of magic. The art of Necromongery is a careful one, for those who wield it truly do play with a raging fire that if not treated carefully will blow out of control and turn into an exploding, raging inferno. Thus, an intense force of character and willpower are needed to properly use Necromongery without succumbing to it's entropic effects when it is used. However, much like fire, the more it slides out of control, the more powerful it becomes. Several Cabalist's report to feeling a rush of incredible power, as if dark lightning flowed through their body, when they succumbed to the magic's effects and almost died in the promise. This is why Necromongery is used prominently in melee, for that is when it's self serving side best comes out. For you see in the midst of close quarters combat, one can sacrifice those they kill in order to ward off the encroaching dark magic with a distraction. These "Dread Knights" as they are nicknamed, go into battle wielding axes and fighting like any other warrior (Albeit with the benefit of runes and the occasional empowered strike). But, once the Dread Knight kills one person, and then another, and then another, they begin to harvest the very energy and life that composes their felled enemies and can manipulate it to cast ever greater spells or bolster their combat powers and runes. These Dread Knights, if left unchecked, can skyrocket to speeding tornadoes ripping through the battlefield in a flurry of blade, blood, and bone. However, their blood lust and need to feed the slowly piling up force of magic can cause them to fail discerning between friend and foe, and has caused many a Dread Knight to begin slaying his own comrades when enemies are not close by.


    2 Minor Acts: Create small amount of divine agents (Contragh's Cabal): This zealous and well trained cult of warriors and magicians are fervent believers in Contragh and avid practitioners in his personal school of magic, Necromongery. Over the years their numbers have slowly swelled in size as Contragh took in more and more pupils to master the ways of magic. His Cabal is split into two sections, Dread Sorcerer's and Dread Knights. The Dread Knights are the very same Knights described in the Necromongery school of magic, each of them modeled to emulate Contragh, his fighting style, and his appearance to the best of their abilities. They are often the first to charge the enemy, and are often the last to leave the battlefield. Adrenaline junkies the lot of them, they take great pleasure in the risks that are induced from the use of Necromongery, and they use it wildly and carelessly in fights purely to amuse themselves. The Dread Sorcerer's on the other hand resemble more traditional practitioners of magic, each of them focused intently on the single purpose of maintaining their control over their magic at all times for as many scenarios as possible. Each of them specialize themselves in different uses of Necromongery. Some manage hordes of shuffling undead, others heal their friends by destroying their enemies, frighten the enemies resolve with ghastly apparitions, and sheath allies in protective wards made of the souls of dead foes. All of them however know how to rain death and destruction upon their foes with bolts of pure dark energy, splinter the ground to send tentacles sprouting from Soul Pools to grasp and drag in their foes. None are to be underestimated, for each one is particularly honed in a brutal and destructive art form of magic.

    1 Minor Act: Teach population of Fex (Necromongery): Contragh has been developing Necromongery over the years with his research in Soul Pools, the divine spark, and of his own personal experiments. He has slowly been releasing information to the public and educating them on the use of magic (Which has had strict laws and rules established for it to ensure that the Government always has more powerful mages at it's disposal then the common rabble.

    2 Cermonies, 3 Major Acts, 0 Minor act remain.
    Last edited by Tychris1; 2013-01-16 at 06:50 PM.
    “I’m a Terrorist not an idiot.” - Me
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  16. - Top - End - #1036
    Ogre in the Playground
    Join Date
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    Default Re: Heroes of the Fall

    The spark of lightning flowed through The Weaver, igniting his blood. Such power! Such raw, uncontrollable power! The union of the children of Baz’Auran, their sparks mingling, united in the act of creation was something beyond description. The Weaver smiled, and launched his mind outward. Reaching out into the Dream-time, The Weaver pulled raw dreamstuff into the Nexus. Supercharging the malleability of this new plane, rubies and sapphires floated into the skies above the floating island. The Weaver felt his body leaving the physical world, and his consciousness melding directly with the dreamstuff now in existence within the Nexus.

    “Our realm shall be here too!”

    The Weaver began to shape his portal in the Nexus. Darkness, studded with red and blue stars, floated towards the main island of the Nexus. Purple threads shot outwards from the darkness, hooking into the main island, weaving themselves into a rope bridge. Planks made of ruby and sapphire stretched across the bridge, and the bridge swung back and forth, pushed by an unfelt wind. The bridge suddenly ended, dropping off into the eternal darkness. The darkness felt full of energy, though it appeared completely empty.

    “Good. Nightmare grows even closer to the physical realm now.”

    “No! This is Dream’s island! We will not let you have the portal to the true world!”

    The Weaver pondered this for a little while, before realizing he was arguing with himself. And he was apparently losing.

    “Wait, why am I thinking in plural?”

    “We need to talk.”

    The Weaver felt his disembodied consciousness being pulled down, down through the star-lit darkness, until he simply popped across, into the Dream-time, and for the first time in a long time, dreamt.

    Spoiler
    Show
    The Weaver has constructed an “island” of sorts connected to the Dream-time. The bridge is a rope bridge, whose ropes are made of purple threads, and whose planks are made of sapphire and ruby. The bridge is only wide enough to walk single file, and sways in the wind, though no wind can be felt. The bridge leads out into a cloud of darkness, only dimly lit by red and blue stars. Eventually, the bridge just ends, not attached to anything. This cloud of darkness is the Dream-time’s island. There exists no gravity in the cloud, with those attempting to use the portal being able to fly through the darkness. There is a single purple star within the cloud, which represents the portal into the Dream-time. Accessing the portal is accomplished by flying straight for the star, which appears not to grow any closer. Eventually, the user will pass over the border, and appear in the courtyard of Castle Rhudfir.



    Dreamer’s Dream

    Water. Water everywhere. The Weaver could feel the cold, shimmering embrace of ocean water, but didn’t dare open his eyes. None of this made sense to him, and this was one dream he wanted to wake up from. He could feel something slimy brush up against his leg. Something soft caress his shoulder. He was very much out of his element.

    “Open your eyes.”

    “No.”

    “This is no way to act. Our siblings need us."

    “My siblings. My siblings need me. Who are you two?”

    “Open your eyes and find out.”

    Tentatively, The Weaver opened an eye, and then promptly squeezed it shut again.

    “No. Open.”

    The Weaver opened both eyes, and was confronted with him. Almost him, actually. Twice. One, a deep sapphire blue, with the lower half of a fish, and fronds like those of an angel fish hanging from his arms and head. The other, a bright ruby red, taking the appearance of a strange cross between a spider and octopus, with thick, chitinous tentacles covered in slime, and yet still with The Weaver’s torso. The Weaver blinked once, twice, thrice. “Explain. Now.”

    “We’re you. The two parts that have always been inside you.”

    “I am peace, love, comfort, sweet sleep, and rest. I am Dream.”

    “I am conflict, fire, creation, passion, and need. I am Nightmare.”

    The Weaver gazed at these two projections of himself. They felt familiar. Familial. Like he had known them forever, and yet they felt wrong. Incomplete, somehow. The Weaver tore his gaze away from the two floating before him, and looked around the vast expanse of water. No surface could be seen, nor rocky walls. It was simply an endless expanse of ocean. “Where are we?”

    “The dreamscape of Salus. The attack of the Kraken had a massive impact on their dreams.”

    “The water is a source of fear for humanity now. Within it lies their greatest fears.”

    “Okay. Then I have just one final question. Why am I here?”

    Dream and Nightmare exchanged a glance, and then spoke together.

    “To choose.”
    ATTENTION ANYONE WHO I'M PLAYING WITH:
    No news is good news.

  17. - Top - End - #1037
    Ogre in the Playground
     
    Kasanip's Avatar

    Join Date
    Apr 2008
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    Japan
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    Default Re: Heroes of the Fall

    Sonata Swears a Second Oath in Song, Renard is Revealed

    From the back of the Lightning Wolf, Sonata surveyed the scene below.

    "Not good." Was the way to describe easily the situation. Regardless of the rain and the wind, she looked sharply through, as the lightning wolf dashed away from the Morningstar. Any reunion with her family had to wait until the situation could be understood. Twisting and dashing as a lightning bolt she descended a fearless rider, her black hair dancing in the wind.

    But the sense of Melos, that discordant song, was vanished.

    For now, she had to do something. Fayruz's song, the song of her family rang out in the chaos, and the gloom.
    Down the Lightning wolf ran, along the front of the approaching forgeborn.
    She stood up, on the back of the lightning wolf, and called out.

    Fox Princess and Rainbow Servant

    "Oh, you most faithful, who found me
    when I was lost
    who gave me strength
    who is most cunning of foxes,
    come!
    Oh Renard, I summon you to me!"

    Despite the wind and the rain, the voice responded from beside, just as from Kodama, the echo and the fox.

    Always, it is said
    that I will come when the lady of rainbows calls!
    I am your fox father, dearest Lady Iris,
    even this name of yours is known
    to a fox like me!
    Harken, I have been in your shadow for some time


    "Be quiet and listen for once
    I have forever been grateful
    So, let it be said then,
    in this time of need
    I swear myself twice offering,
    Look, and it can be seen what comes on Salus.
    And yet the song of my family rings and promises
    only when that can be finished.
    Perhaps then, we can have a victory."


    The hopes of the moon and
    the realities of our world
    have never been the same!


    "No." Sonata replied sharply.
    "You are wrong. Because I know you, Chief Fox
    who has always protected his people
    who has taught lovingly and smartly
    who has danced artfully to music
    who has traveled the world thrice
    who gains knowledge by listening
    who achieves victory by cunning!
    You who are not so different from me,
    And I who am not different than you!
    Always being within my shadow,
    how I should have noticed!"

    Sonata reached to her shadow beckoning, and despite the buffeting rains and wind, the fox chief Renard leaped from shadow to arm, laughing a fox laugh in the wild wind, as the lightning wolf turned 90 degrees and dashed at the forgeborn. Over the armies fighting. Between the legs of the hydra brother.

    Only Renard has heard your words
    and only once will he recognize them!
    Only once, for his love of his false daughter!


    "Then already Renard the Fox knows
    that I intend to stop this foe
    at least long enough for my family
    to complete their plan."


    Of course
    Such a child's plan
    is more hope than
    possibility!


    "If I was a human"
    If you were a dragon princess.
    "If I was a Hymmnoi."
    If you were a moon princess.
    "If I was a Fox..."

    Renard threw back his head and laughed.
    Always it is this fear and that fear
    Then fine! I will help you as always
    for a praise like this, what else can be said?
    Now I will say the magic words.
    Listen carefully
    because you don't listen to your own heart.
    But I have heard it's beat in your shadow
    many times.
    Listen to the advice of Renard!
    "Believe in Yourself.
    Believe in your Family."
    That spark will always
    burn brightly that way.

    The lightning wolf slid to a stop in the rain, as the battle raged. A small kiss from a fox to a princess of moon, wrapped in the glory of rainbow, untouched by the rain brought by the crown, and clutching the flute burning of dawn's light. Blue lightning sparking and flashing, and the fox leaped from her shoulder to the ground. And there was never a more graceful moment, for a proud fox. And Renard stood at attention with perked ears and slyly spoke.

    Now play your song,
    and leave me to play
    the song of foxes
    Learn our song well
    and know us,
    first servants of
    Lady Sonata of the White Moon!"


    Acts
    Spoiler
    Show

    3 Major Acts- Create Demigod - Renard, Chief Fox, [The Immaculate Messenger of Dawn]
    1 Major Act - Gain Ability: Mass Euphoria
    Sonata's music, realized and sung from her heart, the emotions echo truly and more purely than any other song.
    2 Minor Acts- Create Divine Servants, (the Rest of the Hymmnoi Kodama Fox Servants, for an army of 3 total Minor Acts )

    1 Major Act 3 Minor Acts, 2 Ceremonies Remaining


    Renard the Fox Chief Assembles the Foxes to Delay the Forgeborn. The song of Foxes is sung for Sonata

    Renard surveyed the battlefield, the approaching Forgeborn. And he grinned a fox grin, and swayed his tail. Such a small motion, but a motion every fox knows. Invitation.
    All foxes of the Hymmnoi clans
    Aria, Ciela,
    Elysia, Tenoi,
    Presia, Partih,
    Sarla
    I called you as Chief Fox
    to sing the hymn of Twilight
    given to us
    by the Children of Baz'Auran,
    and by Sonata, who is our lord.
    Rejoice!
    For what foe can stand against us?
    Lead them astray
    and lose them in chaos!

    Out of the shadows of the warriors hundreds of foxes showed their grins and laughs. And like swift bolts of thunder and lightning they slashed and cut into the forgeborn, and dove into the shadows of their enemies, pinning them in place, so that the forgeborn advance was slowed.
    And then the Aria and Ciela foxes arrayed in their ghost colors of mist and steam, joined with Renard, who was among the forgeborn, singing and slaying.

    Even if we are standing on this edge,
    the line of shadow and of light,
    Even if the shadow leaped to in the sweaty rhythm,
    is the thorned paw of villain,
    tear and gnash!
    slash and reap!
    revel in initiation!

    Feel the dance beat from tail dancing,
    paw prancing,
    claw slashing,

    teeth gnashing...
    Wild drum of heartbeat and maw of the twilight
    linked of the dark and the light
    We are the messengers of the princess of moon
    the song of transient melody!
    Vanish! vanish! vanish!
    perish!
    vanish!
    perish!
    vanish and perish!
    Harken, ye hopeless mortal
    the grin in your shadow is mine!
    and the blood that falls upon your shadow
    is claimed and demanded!
    Bleed!
    Bleed!
    Bleed and suffocate!
    In our sweltering symphony of life and death
    only between the fray
    on notes of harmony we dance!
    A song of the Ar Maen sung by the light of dawn and rainbow that
    fell among us that day
    Oh sweet insane melody!
    The divine princess who
    thinks she is a fox
    and gives our illusory lives purpose!
    So die!
    die!
    die and fall down !
    Return to ash, in this melody of insanity!
    Because it was wished

    that we songs of illusory fox shall turn to curses
    to repel the evil,
    and so we shadow knives a princess's blade and servant,
    will shred you all to death!
    Last edited by Kasanip; 2013-01-17 at 09:18 AM.
    Kasanip's Sketchbook 2 Thread
    It is difficult to speak English, please excuse mistakes kindly m(_ _)m

  18. - Top - End - #1038
    Ogre in the Playground
     
    Gengy's Avatar

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    Default Re: Heroes of the Fall

    Billi and the Strange Man's Border

    Billi had been having a good day. A little exploring, a little swimming, and a new grouping of fish that were quite tasty.

    On the way home, though, their was a strange man floating in the sky. Billi stopped to watch, as the strange man, hooded and cloaked, waved his hands and rattled some chains.

    Billi tried to go see what was going on, but the ocean Billi was swimming through suddenly felt like a wall. He couldn't get out.

    Backing up, Billi cocked his head to one side, and stared, confused. Finally, he looked up to see the strange floating man start to move away.

    "Excuse me, Mister, but are you one of my Uncles?" Billi called out loudly, hoping to get the strange man's attention before he flew away.

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

    Four Heads are Better Than One

    There was still so much going on. Dimly, Jongo was aware of many things at once, as the chaos of battle fed him both power, and bursts of information. Even with the four separated minds that Jongo now had, she was having trouble processing everything.

    Bahbi was somewhere, in the form of a large Lion, rallying behind Goose, and terrified out of his mind. Still, he ran beside Jongo's youngest brother, boldly trying to just stay alive. This morning, he had just been following Matti and Teri to get some Kelp.

    Matti and Teri...

    Teri was within the belly of Green Morningstar, feeding it magic and keeping it stable as best she could. She was hopelessly outclassed, not ready to control this kind of power at all, but she struggled on.

    Matti. Matti was perhaps the only one ready for this. He'd stopped playing his game, dispelling the act of being a simpleton. Matti was, in truth, one of Rose's star pupils. The illusions that he was casting was saving so many lives, and people that the rock-people attacked 'died'... only to come back again moments later, alive and well. Matti was on the ground, by himself, holding back thirty or more of the fiery-foes, all by the skill of his illusions.

    A great albatross was flying high in the sky, skirting the sudden storm, two mice in its claws. It landed on Jongo's large back, and there were suddenly three Jongoscion, fighting and defending from the top of the Chaos Hydra. Loni pushed any enemy that came to close away with great gusts of wind. Patzi took the form of a strange alligator with very large feet, and she kicked and snapped without mercy. Samm, his years training in Markien, shaped his very arms to be sharp swords and struck with precision and grace.

    And then everything - everything - changed.

    Avyra arrived. Her spark was clearly here. Jongo was too caught up pulling fire from these... these... beings, turning them to stone statues, to be able to do more than feel a sudden boost of confidence. Avyra was here... and she was scarier than anything else Jongo knew.

    Sonata showed up, on the back of a streak of lightning that looked like a howling wolf. Foxes, foxes from everywhere, arrived and began to dance and dart through the enemy lines. The storm that had been building broke, and rained down like a curtain. Iris's spark felt determined and full of purpose.

    Then, from the sky, the cry of a falcon, and Fayruz was here. Flower, more than even Iris, seemed to be here for a reason. She shouted words that Jongo couldn't make out, but Fayruz's manner radiated importance.

    And if all of that were not enough, if all of that did not make Jongo grin, something even more wonderful happened. Three Hydra heads were smiling. The fourth one could no longer contain itself as, from the sky, a huge lizard-beast dropped and began to rend and tear anything that moved, swiping with its massive tail at swaths of the fire-men. Only the tell-tale black scales over its eyes, like a mask, let Jongo know that Ouran was here.

    Everything would continue to change. Hopefully for the better.

    Which meant Jongo had a moment to focus.

    It was... difficult. Exceedingly difficult. With so much information coming from everywhere, and so much power being fed to him as well, Jongo had not had much chance to do more than be careful to not kill any of these... things. It was already tricky, but they were filled with fire, and Jongo fed on the fire. Each time, the beings dropped and returned to stone.

    Each time, Jongo would, with the head wreathed in flame, roar: "Torvaag!"

    Jongo was not sure. But from the description, and from what they looked like, and how they acted, she was fairly sure these were the Forgeborn. And as such, they did not deserve to die. Perhaps Jongo couldn't stop everyone else from defending themselves; but no Forgeborn died by his hand.

    Jongo was really quite sure she could return the fire to the statues that the Forgeborn had become. It felt... right. At the very least, Jongo had to try.

    With a blast of sound, another of Jongo's heads roared straight into the ground itself, "Torvaag! The Forgeborn are dying! Please hear me!"

    And though the horde of what Jongo thought were the Forgeborn were running at impossible speeds, they were no match for lightning. With arcs of furious electricity, the third head of the Choas Hydra struck. But not at the Forgeborn.

    At the earth beyond it. Though the land screamed more in protest, there was little Jongo could do. This was the only option Jongo saw. Soon, arc after arc of lightning created a great trench of earth in front of Salus, almost one hundred of feet in length. It would do little more than slow the Forgeborn down, if they reached it too soon.

    The first of them were almost there, almost hopping down into the trench in their run, like a great wave of fire, surging on to burn all in their path. On the other side of the trench stood what little forces Salus could muster.

    But a great wave of fire is still fire.

    The Band of Chaos had been gathering energy, and was wrapped around the last head of the Chaos Hydra like some great crown made of curved metal. The final mind of Jongo had had it's time to focus. Feeling the call from Butterfly, feeling the power surge from Bunny, with a sudden snap, Jongo added his own power to the Nexus.

    The chaos Jongo had been holding onto surged into the sky within the realm of the Nexus, and changed it to a beautiful pink and orange, like the setting sun over the ocean. A new chain of tiny floating islands sprouted from the Center Isle, and each one seemed to float in an even and straight line from the center. Then a circle of Fire erupted within the air itself. Another chain of islands took shape, and soon there was a cross within the fire circle. Air pushed and pulled on the east side of the cross, causing those islands to constantly waver and move.

    More air blew, and the north and south tiny islands - once a straight line directly pointed at the Center Isle of the Nexus - soon curved into inexplicable hooks. Only the west chain of tiny islands remained perfectly straight now. On the outside of the fire, four groups of four islands smashed together, creating a beautiful flowery pattern of floating earth. And each grouping come to a rest, floating like the corners of a square around the circle.

    In the center of this square, in the center of this circle, in the middle of all four long chains of tiny islands, a large globe of water formed, like a small lake. It was calm and peaceful on the surface of the water, but inside the center was the crushing water pressure of all of the gravity that seemed to be holding this whole elaborate meeting of the elements together.

    In all, this was by far the largest Symbol of Chaos Jongo had ever crafted. And as soon as it was done, Jongo felt the thrum of power - or rightness - and all the other Symbols became connected to this one, anchored to it. This was the Chaos Archipelago, to which all Symbols of Chaos were now tethered. They fueled it, and it fueled them, and together, they helped sustain the Nexus itself.

    The fire around the Archipelago dimmed. The globe of water in the center surged. No more than 30 yards or so in diameter, the globe's calm surface suddenly surged.

    Something was coming through the Nexus.

    On the outside of the Nexus, Salus stood, proud and resplendent even while about to be overrun. But on the outskirts of town, atop a small hill, a single hut stood. Many gifts were left around it, and inside positively glowed with lights that never seemed to stop changing colors.

    Resting in the center of the hut was a small basin of water. Hanging above that basin was an old piece of parchment, a Symbol of Chaos drawn on it. Had it been an eyeball, the Symbol could have stared out the window of the hut to see the last blast of lightning strike a trench into the ground. It could have seen the Forgeborn getting closer, their fury as hot as their rocky forms, like a great wave of fire.

    But a great wave of fire is still fire. And fire can be cooled.

    Bursting from the basin, out the window, into the trench, the wave of fire met a true wave; one that had been building from the Sea of Jongo, from the southern shore below Markien, from the current that pulled millions of gallons of water to the Great Rim. Coming together, all of these formed a great Tidal Wave that surged into the trench, and washed away the first few Forgeborn who were unlucky enough to be hopping down inside at the wrong time.

    Even with the Band of Chaos helping, even with four minds working together as one, Jongo knew that this would probably be the last that she could do for Salus. The wave reached the edge of the trench, and Jongo asked it to turn back in on itself, becoming a great roaming wall of ocean that ran miles back and forth in front of Salus.

    Jongo felt more tired than he had ever been in decades, and it was now only the vestige chaos that continued to come from the battlefield that kept Jongo standing and holding the form of the Chaos Hydra. All four minds focus on the task of pulling fire from Forgeborn, creating living statues, and calling desperately to Torvaag; though how the Elder Elemental would hear her, Jongo did not know.

    Screaming at the earth and the Forgeborn seemed like the best plan, even if it ended up being hopeless.


    Act Expenditure
    Spoiler
    Show
    1 Ceremony - to create the Chaos Archipelago with the Nexus
    1 Minor - to connect all the Symbols of Chaos to the Nexus, effectively creating a Gate
    1 Minor - change the Landscape in front of Salus; there is now a great trench, filled with a Tidal Wave that will move back and forth, making the water un-swimable. Tidal Wave will probably settle down once the battle is over. Probably.
    1 Minor - create a small group of empowered servants. The Jongoscion here at the battle are learning very quickly. The Jongoscion in the Olm are also getting an... education... but more in subtlety. I'll have another post for them soon.

    New total:
    3 Major, 2 Minor, 1 Ceremony
    Spoiler
    Show
    BladeofObliviom said:
    I've only seen a character at anything resembling this level of absurdity thrive exactly once, and he/she/what-the-jongo had the advantage of being written by Gengy, who I look up to as a writer.

    "What-the-Jongo?"
    Before you insult someone, walk a mile in their shoes.
    That way, you'll be a mile away, and have their shoes!

    Got me a Real Job™ (yay!). Still busy (boo!).
    ~avatar by myself

  19. - Top - End - #1039
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    Old Friends

    At the mention of Jongo, a tremble went through Kraken's great bulk, his four eyes flaring in anger before he calmed. Above them, seaside communities were struck by mighty waves, before the seas became unseasonably calm once more.

    Yes, Jongo. That pestilential menace that has seen fit to corrupt my children and invade my domain. A pox on all the children of our dear creator - by what right do they inherit the Disk while we are made to languish in eternal servitude!? Their godhood is naught but a cruel sham.

    A thick tendril emerged from the inky black, taking the diamond flask and releasing the inky liquid into Kraken's great maw.

    I am surprised your dealings with him were so amicable, Torvaag. I imagine he's tried to turn at least one of your precious jewels into some vile servant by now.

    Suspicions

    At Frellon's question, Lossethir barked out another hearty laugh. Whether vanity or foolishness, it was clear he did not regard the Puppeteer with the same dread as his brother. Finally seeming to notice Carolinus' probing gaze, he smiled again and gave a piercing whistle. From the storm clouds of his domain appeared fleeting shadows of mist and ice which swiftly coalesced into a pride of lions formed entirely of snow. They bounded through the empty air as though it were solid ground, before coming to a halt before Lossethir and his attendants.

    "Well, brothers, if this thing is truly so fearsome I think I'll see it for myself. Do not worry for my safety - Celonechor will not allow this thing entry. And who knows, I might see more success than you think possible."

    Lossethir mounted the lead lion of snow in a single smooth motion, and Frellon and Carolinus noticed that it was the only one with a mane in the pride. His actions were mirrored by his icy beauties, and soon their mounts had taken to the sky again, racing back towards the stormclouds. Turning to look back at his rapidly disappearing brothers, Lossethir cried out.

    "Give my regards to the others! I can feel a great many of them to the south - it must be some party!"

    Then he was gone, and in moments the great blizzard shifted south, moving with all the speed of divine will towards the realm of Fayruz and the Puppeteer.

    Wrath

    Few are the mortals that would pity the mad Forgeborn in the years to come, the tale of their depredations making their ruination at the hands of the gods seem more than deserved. Yet even as they prepared for war, the defenders of Salus that day could not help but be moved by the destruction that fell on the advancing horde. At their rear, the implacable force of nature that was Jongo rent them to pieces, sending gouts of molten essence flying so high into the air it might have been mistaken for fireworks. At their periphery struck the dark armies of Contragh and the razor foxes of Kodama, lead by their newly divine king, while above the lightning and rain of Sonata pounded the Forgeborn like hammer blows upon an anvil. Even their passing carried a death sentence, as shadows came to life to gnaw upon the Forgeborn and drag them down to die. Then came the masked god Ouran, descending from the sky to fight alongside Kalandor, the lizard of fury and wrath an odd mirror to the twirling shadow of the traveler. But wherever they stepped, carnage followed.

    The host that had entered Salus had numbered in the thousands, but scant hundreds remained as they neared the gates of Salus' central city. So few, yet still capable of burning the proud city to ash if unopposed. But a single figure stood before them in the field, with a mask of quicksilver and a shining spear, until the arrival of Avyra's successor. As Jethro planted his shovel in the blessed soil of Haramhold's domain, the Lord of Weal and Woe's mask contorted into a bemused smile, broader than any mortal mouth could manage.

    "Welcome to the board, my pawn become a king. You've yet to fully realize the pain your power brings. But let it not be said that I'm some tireless foe - you may know me simply as the Lord of Weal and Woe. And now I'm forced to wonder, afore the battle's here, if your coming will bring joy or a cold stab of fear. For your Spark is not your own, my hunched mortal friend. And these gods are prickly things that you're best to not offend."

    The Lord of Weal and Woe laughed, only to be drowned out by the rising force of Sonata's song, answered by the foxes of Kodama and invigorating the spirits of all who heard. As if to punctuate every crescendo, lightning flashed from the chaos hydra, cutting a long trench towards the Lord of Weal and Woe. It seemed to Jethro that they would be destroyed by the coming barrage, but as the crackling purple bolt sped towards them the Lord of Weal and Woe's spear flicked out, sending the divine lightning thundering into the sky. Some of the Forgeborn spilled into the gap only to be devoured by the onrushing tide, leaving the only avenue of approach the sliver of land occupied by the Lord of Weal and Woe. His starlit eyes sparkled as the burning crackle of the Forgeborn's approach reached Jethro's ears.

    The gravedigger had never before seen the like, a moving wall of sharp obsidian and churning magma that radiated heat and madness in equal measure. It could have been a dream, were he mortal, but divines are not so afflicted, and the Spark in his breast gave truth to their situation. They were close now, so close that even divine flesh reddened at the heat of them, and as the first of the remaining vanguard raised its gleaming hot halberd to strike down the Lord of Weal and Woe Jethro readied his shovel to give what resistance he could. But then the sinuous thing before him spun around, his spear cutting through the air like a cold breeze. Jethro felt, more than he saw, the sharpness of the thing as it cleaved through the monstrous Forgeborn, only for the force of the blow to carry through it to the ranks behind, as nigh on fifty of the fiery beasts were rent asunder. They exploded apart like shattered glass, as the Lord of Weal and Woe spun his spear and brought it up sharply, trailing a deep furrow in the earth as his next strike bisected the closest Forgeborn and twenty of its brethren. He moved as though it were a dance, that damned smile never leaving his mask, but in moments the remaining Forgeborn were naught but broken shards of rock and flame. Looking beyond the slaughter, Jethro saw the monstrous forms of his fellow gods in the distance, lightning and chaos and monstrous beast joined with fox and wraith and deadly man. The path of the Forgeborn was a scar upon the land, a blackened gouge littered with the bodies of the crazed beings, bubbling pools of lava slowly hardening where they'd fallen.

    It was on this scene that Fayruz descended, her coming bathing the battlefield in the light of a new dawn. The Lord of Weal and Woe turned to face the newest arrival upon the field, his mask's smile turning smug, a ready stream of verse on unseen lips. But then the whisper of the fairest reached his ears, and time froze. Fayruz and Jethro saw the stars in the Lord of Weal and Woe's eyes die, replaced by fires of white and black so powerful they burned away everything else in sight. Then the fires merged into a steely blaze that seemed to ignite the very air, and the Lord of Weal and Woe was moving. A flash of light as the Nexus was birthed, sending a shaft of divine energy into the sky of Haramhold's domain, and Fayruz felt herself lifted by the neck and driven through the walls of Salus, into one of the sturdy houses of Haramhold's folk. The stone shattered beneath divine flesh, leaving her little worse for wear, but the iron grip around her slender neck promised far worse. Before her stood the Lord of Weal and Woe in his true glory, wings of grey fire sweeping out past the ruined wall he'd pushed her though, into the air more than a hundred feet. Floating above his head was a crown of grey fire, and in its light Fayruz felt a force not unlike her father.

    "You dare to lecture me about duty, daughter of Baz'Auran!? You, who dwelt in comfort before arriving on a virgin world built for your pleasure!? My post was taken from me! I owe this world nothing!"

    Stepping through the gateway of the Nexus, this is what Contragh saw. It is what Jongo and Silvar and Jethro and Sonata saw. All the assembled gods in Salus watched as the Lord of Weal and Woe loomed tall over Fayruz, bellowing words that meant nothing to them.

    Puppet Masters

    A void formed in the darkness, a perfect sphere of nothing that somehow shamed even the inky black into submission. But then a flash of color appeared at its center, and as quickly as the void had formed Melos was standing in its place, brushing ash from youthful vestments with a cruel smile on his face. He strode unafraid into the darkness, and with a whistle the icy corridor he roamed was lit with shimmering ghost light. It was not long before he emerged into a throne chamber, bare ice save for the intricately carved throne, a diamond marvel of blue and black ice, its seat heaped with the rarest of furs. Upon the throne waited a queen, her skin pale as her platinum hair, her eyes black as the deepest pit. Her garment matched her eyes, an umbral flow of spider silk that clung to a slender figure and pooled around her feet until it was indistinguishable from the throne's shadow. At her right hand stood a knight, tall and proud in mien, waiting only for her word.

    "Is it done?"

    His smile disappearing into a look of respect, Melos bowed, and in his hand appeared the slender rod that was the Key.

    "Yes, my Herald. The Key is everything we remembered - no gate is barred to us, now, and their hopes of returning to their father's domain fruitless."

    "Excellent."

    Her smile held no warmth, no light. It was empty and cruel, as she was, yet its beauty was such that any man would have given his soul just to see it. Turning her head, she raised a hand whose nails were almost talons, beckoning the knight closer.

    "Are you prepared, my knight?"

    Without hesitation, Lossethir stepped forward, bowing low to the mistress to whom he owed life and soul.

    "Yes. They suspect nothing - if we succeed, I shall be the hero of the hour, my word beyond reproach."

    "Well done."

    Outside the throne room, far below the realm of Celonechor, the ocean turned dark and stormy with the blizzard's passing. Countless miles ahead lay the domain of black sand, where a servant of the First Dark awaited the coming of its fellows.

    I was old when the pharaohs first mounted
    The jewel-decked throne by the Nile;
    I was old in those epochs uncounted
    When I, and I only, was vile;

    Spoiler
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    Quote Originally Posted by apocalypsePast2 View Post
    ...one could possibly refer to you guys' elaborate dance of allies-to-enemies-to-suicide-of-the-universe as some sort of weird art form.

    If one were on drugs.
    Quote Originally Posted by VonDoom View Post
    Behold, the mighty slayer of strangely coloured mutant equines! The thwarter of forum woes! The! Dark! DM!

  20. - Top - End - #1040
    Ettin in the Playground
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    The Digger & The Woe

    Firstly, Jethro looked up at the remark of a so-called "Herald of Twilight", where he beheld with his mortal and divine eyes simply the most beautiful thing he has ever seen, daresay more beautiful than the Twilight itself: the Goddess, Fayruz. Jethro could not help to have his whiskered jaw give way in awe at her presence, where then as a sudden blaze of power rushed past him and found its way at the Goddess' throat, all aflame with matte gray. This snapped Jethro back to reality, as what this "Lord of Weal and Woe" had done did not sit well with him, not one bit.

    Jethro raised his lantern, opening and letting lose a perpetual stream of dusky light about him, scintillating colors of dusk and dawn lit behind clouds of black. He raised his shovel to the sky, giving whisper and praise to a being he had not too recently met, a being he had prayed to for guidance and strength many times in the past. The twilight rose into the air, swirling about the two beings, one bathed in radiance and the other cloaked in grey. The world about the two seemed like the sunset itself, the power of the Twilight washing over as a rift eased into existence.

    And then a cry.

    A cry of a distant storm, of thunder in the sky.

    The world about them shook as this bellow of strength cut through the air, almost as fast as lightning one might say. The great flapping of wings could be heard, but not seen, as the cacophony of its beating pulsed like a living heart.

    Jethro smiled an old man's smile, wrinkles and all, as he latched the lantern to his hip. The shadowy light wrapped around him like a cloak once again, as the mask of his purpose with the Twilight formed once more over his face, his shamanistic ancestry coming once more into play. Great tendrils of twilight grew from his back, raising him up into the air. The old shovel, familiar to his hands was now grasped with the strength he had, even if it paled in comparison to the beings about him.

    Then a calm, an abrupt halt to the storming sound as a great lull soon created a void within the once filled air. It was merely the inhale of air.

    "Thank you for the warning, Mister Woe. Normally I wouldn't make enemies with someone whom I just met. However-"

    It was then that the air began to rush once again, the full calamity of the storm coming to a head, as from the twilight came a mighty and terrible bird of feathers crackling with energy, blue eyes ablaze with power. An ebony beak like a fortress with wings now rushing towards the Lord.

    "-that is no way to treat a lady."

    Jethro's shovel rose and swung into the air, hitting the side of the Lord of Weal and Woe's head for what strength his divine body could muster, which is to say most of it. But this was the Lord of Weal and Woe! Jethro knew he would not be able to hit him, let alone damage him. That is why behind the blow came the terrible strength of the Thunderbird, whose earth-piercing cry gave thunderous strength to the shovel he now wielded. The very beak of the Thunderbird itself surged forward, the giant black mass as well as its cry now both behind the shovel's head. If this blow did not strike him, it would at the very least blow out that pretentious crown.
    I've started streaming again.


    78% of DM's started their first campaign in a tavern. If you're one of the 22% that didn't, copy and paste this into your signature.

    I started my first campaign outside of an abandoned mine, just as soon as a meteor storm from the moon hits.

  21. - Top - End - #1041
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    Tychris1's Avatar

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    The Lord of Lords and the Lord of Weal and Woe

    Contragh had a smile on his face, in the first time in a long time he truly felt alive as he marched through the Nexus with his soldiers. They were like brothers, not quite like the ones he had in his real family, but there was definitely a sense of comradery amongst them. As one of the Revenants began moving towards the punch line of bis joke they stepped through the portal, Contragh's face nearly about to break with true and honest laughter.

    But the sight he saw before him..... Whatever sense of laughter and joy he had left him. Replaced with a cold iron heart, a bloody axe, and the single mindedness of an ant. Clenching his divine axe in his hand, he takes a step forward, his teeth gnashing at a rapid pace as he watched the display. He raised a hand, ready to unleash the full torrential necrotic power that laid within him. But he lowered his hand, the Lord was not some mortal, he could not merely be drained out like the others. His soldiers saw Contragh's hesitation and so they hesitated aswell.

    Raising two fingers up, he indicated for his men to hold their ground, then bent the fingers towards him. The Cabal of Contragh, in a wordless response, understood his meaning in a fraction of a second. For they were the truest servants of Contragh, and his slightest whim was their demands. They began to shift, moving to take one side of the Lord. Contragh paced forward, his razor sharp teeth now penetrating his own mouth and causing him to bleed. Yet the blood tasted sweet and held the promises of more to him.

    In an instant he looked to the far right of the Lord of Weal and Woe, and his host of Wraiths were transported their, Miranda in the front looking down at the display. She summoned forth her weaponry, standing on guard as she saw the awe inspiring power of the Herald of Twilight. If they were any other race of mortals, they would have trembled in fear at the sight. But the presence of their God King steeled their resolve and their state of undeath only further helped them.

    And so Contragh took to the center. His boots stomping against the ground like a hammer pounding against an anvil. If he struck with any one aspect of him, Contragh knew he would not succeed. So, Contragh would draw upon his hoard of resources, each aspect of him readying itself. But even so, the Divine General did not think it enough. With but the tiniest flick of his head, he began to siphon off the life of over a hundred people in Salus, their bodies writhing against the ground as their very life was drained out of them and given to Contragh to further bolster him. Their anguished spirits encircled him like a veil of terrible secrets and power. Their lives didn't matter to him, none of them did. If he had to he'd leave the whole city a desolate waste if it meant he could do what must be done. All that mattered to him now was Fayruz.

    For Contragh was the Divine General, he was the vanguard of his family, the one who fought so that battles must not be waged on friendly soil. The fact that this event even existed was a testimony to his unbridled failure as a brother and to his own father, who entrusted him with this honor. He looked upon Fayruz, most beautiful and delicate of his sisters, one who was flawless and excellent in the White City, and his heart shattered. She was like an intricate flower, it's beauty so deep and vast, only ever matched in his eyes by the fiery passions of Nieve. But unlike his warlike sister, Fayruz required special care and tenderness. She could not be trusted to protect herself or others, that was Contraghs duty, his charge. Yet her frame seemed marred and weary from the world, and if she could have changed from her time away; Then how much more secure was he in what he did? He was the great Conquerer, the one who planned out the invasion of Salus without knowing the Forgeborn even existed. Contragh was War given purpose, the soldier for his family. Not like Nieve, who rampaged about like a rabid bloodthirsty dog, no, he held a single hatred today, and it was his duty to see it eliminated immedieately.

    The draining intensified, 80 more people entering a comatose state from the sheer amount of life sucked out of them. Contragh was no longer surrounded by a veil, it was a billowing ball of Black and Purple soul fire that raged around him, yet was restricted by his slightest action. His eyes began to glow, the black light from when he spawned forth Soul Pools burned brighter then it ever had before.

    "Don't."

    He begins to swing his axe back and forth as his servants took up positions, ready to act when he did.

    "Touch."

    His eyes were like steel, unmoving, anchors of hate. For Contragh was Wrath and War given purpose, and it's purpose today was to save his beloved Fayruz.

    "My!"

    For it was true, Fayruz was his, and so was the rest of his family. Contragh was Lord of all, and so he would have to protect all that was his.

    He sprinted forward, the Cabal of Contragh all unleashed their magic, propelling Contragh with a torrent of power (Most of which was dedicated to shielding Contragh, while the rest went to propelling him forward) while the Divine Conqueror threw his own power in. He became like a flaming, axe swinging, ball of soul fire that screamed forward with great rage and intensity, flying faster then even the thunderbolts of Sonata towards his foe. His body began to change, his bones and muscles strengthening as his skin grew leathery and stretched, holes appearing across him as he began to shift into his undead draconic state, slobbering gnashing maw barred to rip into the Lord. The Wraiths surged forward with him, some even unleashing their own dark magic to further shield Contragh and hasten his thunderous move. And with that his Bull Rush turned into a full body tackle as he collided forward with the Lord, swinging his axe with great ferocity aswell, his armor smashing against the Lord and clanging with such intensity it sounded like Thunder smashing against an ocean storm before reverberating throughout the city of Salus. All the while he screamed, roared more like it, in a blood curdling and booming voice that echoed louder then even the sound of war

    "SISTER!"
    “I’m a Terrorist not an idiot.” - Me
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  22. - Top - End - #1042
    Ogre in the Playground
     
    NecromancerGuy

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    Old Friends

    Noding his head sadly at his old friends words, Torvaag sighs. "Stone is hard to change, and odds are, he hasn't tried yet. He does? I'll be hitting him upside the head with me staff and getting them tunnel worms on him. But still, I owe that punk a beating. Little punk forgot about rocks and gravity. Still, I'll try and talk ter him. Probobly a lot better then that thing in the dream.."

    And then, it crashes into him. Have you ever felt if all the blood in your body was being drained, but you had a thousand bodies? If all your bones were being chrushed, but a infinite time over? As if acts that would cause a demon to puke were preformed with great glee over and over and over? To hear the very world scream in agony that makes such seem trivial?

    Torvaags scream is but a Echo of what he felt. But a shadow of the pain, the pleading, the dying and corruption being spread on the earth.

    Around him in the grotto, the tempreture is rising, as Torvaags rage almost seems to ignite the water close to him.

    "They're killing them kracken! My Brothers and sisters, THOSE BASTARDS ARE GOING TO PAY!!!"

    With that, he dives off into the pool of magma, and surges off, leaving Kracken in his grotto. Kracken might have recogznied the look on Torvaags face. Normaly a peaceful, easy going elemental, it's been a long time since he was this enraged.


    Deep below the Surface

    The screaming won't stop. It's getting worse. Why? Why couldn't he have saved them? Why did the bosses kids have to kill them?!!!? Those spoiled brats. The disk, oh, we elders labored long and well to make and shape the disk, delving it, carving things of great beauty, creations that laughed and danced in the early twilight? And now? They destroy everything they touch. They corrupt it, change it, poisoning the land itself to try and satisfy their whims. They had it easy. And now? Those gods will pay for what they've done.

    But as he crashes head first into a barrier, a unnatural thing created by the slayers of his kin, the tormenters of the world, he rages at it, sending torrents of magma and ash at it, creating termors in the earth, but he cannot breach it.
    Last edited by Grimsage Matt; 2013-01-19 at 07:52 PM.
    Power restored for christmass. I'm back!

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  23. - Top - End - #1043
    Orc in the Playground
     
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    The Nexus was complete, and with it Haramhold finally calmed down, crafting always calmed his nerves. Looking about he could sense so many new sparks, Sonata, Fayruz, Avyra, all had come.

    Even the implacable threat of the forgeborn seemed to diminish as the odds turned against the invaders. Contragh was just starting to bring his reinforcements through, The garrison of Salus has mustered five hundred men strong. Rain drove into the forgeborn, as foxes tore into their flanks and a zombie horde cut off their retreat. A great fissure opened up in the earth halting their advance for the first time.

    The green morningstar soared over the forgeborn, a hole opening in her hull which spilled a torrent of water upon the molten attackers. At this Haramhold smiled, he saw what Amanda had done while the gods were busy. She had fetched the water stone, a trinket that Haramhold had made in the early years without thinking and she had turned it into a weapon. By using it to fill the airships hull with thousands of gallons of water and then dumping it on the forgeborn, and in a moment the hull would be flooded again and the attack could be repeated.

    "Everything is going to be okay" Haramhold thought to himself.

    Then the lord of Weal and Woe arrived and smote his sister, Contragh with a terrifying disregard for life, began tearing the souls out of the inhabitants of Salus to power his dread wrath. As Contragh Launched himself at the Lord of Weal and Woe, Haramhold reached out with his spark and intercepted the strength stolen from his people.

    They were dead, Haramhold had no power to change that. Nor could he stop Contragh from empowering himself with it as death magic was not within Haramhold's domain. But their souls would not be used as their killer intended, that much Haramhold could do. Their strength instead would be used to create and to build. Giving them a small measure of peace.

    As Contragh flew toward his foe golden light erupted from his armor. His plate mail's crude iron became graceful steel gilded with obsidian and Jade. Haramhold's spark infused this this armor giving it power beyond imagination.

    The Armor of Weeping Souls
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    This artifact armor serves one purpose and one purpose only, to protect its wearer. This armor shape shifts with its user so that no matter the form it's protection will not be lost. In addition it can effortlessly deflect any blow that would not be strong enough to knock one of the mighty titans senseless. Finally it also wards off any hostile sorcery that does not rival divine strength and even then it greatly reduces its power.


    Haramhold was not done, for now his despair had turned to anger. Why should Salus be attacked, it had conquered no lands, spread no terror, never waged war. The realm posed no threat to anyone or anything. Haramhold could think of no reason why they should attack here. These thoughts darkened the skies and sent tremors through the earth. They attack because they do not fear any reprisal. All they see is a bearded fool cowering behind his walls. Not even my own brother respects the protection I have given my people. If fear is what is needed to ensure safety then let them learn the meaning of the word.

    Darkness began to form around the Craftsmen. First in spots so small that it appeared to be a trick of the light. But as they grew tendrils shot out of them and swirled about the craftsmen in a terrible maelstrom of power. As the darkness grew in strength it would appear to his siblings that Haramhold's spark weakened and then perished for they could no longer sense it.

    In the darkness Haramhold began his work.

    Acts spent
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    1 major act: create armor of weeping souls, description above.
    1 major act: increase domain Crafting to 3.
    1 major act: acquire upgraded item creation ability.
    1 major act: create greater artifact. Details to be revealed later.

    acts remaining 2/2/2
    Sometimes it is useful to know how large your zero is. ~Author Unknown

  24. - Top - End - #1044
    Ogre in the Playground
     
    Gengy's Avatar

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    Amazed at what is happening high above, Jongo has little time to process everything that is going down below, but one thing catches Jongo's complete attention.

    Tired, gasping, the Chaos Hydra senses the eruption of magma, and then the eruption of Torvaag. He senses the anger, the pain, and the spark. Torvaag is much more powerful then when Jongo let met him. She stares on into the earth, and grimaces.

    He's smaller than Jongo remembers. But it's very much Torvaag. The earth around him is screaming, echoing his anger. The Forgeborn, what little are left, sense him, and halt.

    Jongo searches for Haramhold, but does not find Butterfly, so he must do without. Doing the best she can to raise his voice, Jongo turns towards Torvaag and yells into the earth, "Torvaag, Elder Elemental, please hear me! I have three things to say, and then you may make judgments on your own.

    First: I think I may have forgot about the whole gravity thing when I sent you to see Rodney. If I did, I'm sorry about that. It was... a new experience for us both. I hope you weren't hurt too badly. And I do see you were able to find your brothers and sisters. I thought these might be them, so I have been desperately trying to call you.

    Secondly: I have been desperately trying to call you! The Forgeborn here were led to Salus, which stands behind you. I know not their grievances, but before any talk could be had, fighting broke out. My own siblings and I have been desperately trying to save ourselves from the power and heat that your Forgeborn brethren possess. I am afraid that most have been overzealous in their defense, but the heat of battle is hotter than any fire, and the chaos of war is not something that even I can control.

    And finally: What I can do is - hopefully - return some of the lost Forgeborn to you. You may see before me many statues; if I've done things right, I've hope to return the breath of fire back into them. I'm happy to do so, but right now, we need cool heads and sound thinkers. Please, consider talking as an alternative to more violence."


    Roaring out to the field of battle, Jongo makes his voice heard, "Stop this violence, stop this death. Fight no more, and let us all withdraw to live another day. And in the name of me, PLEASE, can everyone stop making me act my age? I hate feeling old."
    Last edited by Gengy; 2013-01-19 at 08:33 PM.
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    BladeofObliviom said:
    I've only seen a character at anything resembling this level of absurdity thrive exactly once, and he/she/what-the-jongo had the advantage of being written by Gengy, who I look up to as a writer.

    "What-the-Jongo?"
    Before you insult someone, walk a mile in their shoes.
    That way, you'll be a mile away, and have their shoes!

    Got me a Real Job™ (yay!). Still busy (boo!).
    ~avatar by myself

  25. - Top - End - #1045
    Ettin in the Playground
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    It was almost funny how thoughts turned to the oddest places when the mind couldn't handle what was going on. As he lifted her off the ground, out of the crumbling stone and splintered furnishings, all she could think for a moment was how she'd felt this before. Certainly, then, the hands had been warm and sweaty and mortal, the face before her ripped-open and pus-stained, the screamed words rough and dancing from deep to high, but she knew what it was like to feel explosions in her skull as the pressure caught the breath in her throat, to be unable to sing or beg or stop impending death.

    The crown about his head reminded her of being a little girl. Of playing the harp at her father's feet. Of braiding flowers in her sister's hair and kissing her good-night. Of a responsibility to do the right thing, to help, because she could not use the sword or the spell or lead mighty armies.

    He looked down at her, burning with a glory to match the phoenix- that beautiful bird, kind despite having no responsibility to be so. And she looked up at him, and raised one pale hand. She cupped his cheek. And though she could not sing her songs of healing, of bringing respite to the troubled soul, she could silently mouth the words he needed to hear before he snapped her neck, before he turned upon her siblings, before there was war between the brilliant Herald and the children of his lord. Because maybe it would stop that from happening, maybe it would stop him from turning on her siblings, because maybe it could save Sonata's life. Oh, Sonata, forgive her.

    I... forgive...

    Screeches unknown to the world, the bellow that made the stones tremble and pain flash through her head, as her siblings leaped to her defense. She could not scream to them, tell them to hold their blows, and so she did the only thing she could - she kept her hand on his cheek, and it took all the strength she had to keep her hand raised, and her muscles trembled and her chest burned with the need for air, and her eyes closed-
    freedom in the flame

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    Quote Originally Posted by PhoeKun View Post
    Raz, you scoundrel! You planned this!
    Quote Originally Posted by BladeofObliviom View Post
    Great, and now I'm imagining what Raz's profile on a dating site would look like. "Must be okay with veils."
    Quote Originally Posted by Kasanip View Post
    I don't think there is such a time to have veils that it is not the fault of Raz_Fox.
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    It's a freaking Romulan dump truck. The Romulans are no more likely to build an unarmed warp-capable ship than they are to become a hippy commune.

  26. - Top - End - #1046
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    Hydra and Pegasus

    Ouran was one of the few gods who didn't run to the thing of immense beauty being pinned to the wall by the Lord of Weal and Woe. He was sorely tempted to (despite the voice in his head, screaming in terror) but frankly he did not know her. Jongo, on the other hand, was the creator of his best friend, gifter of his power (sort of) and the savior of his life.

    So, ya know, he owed him one.

    As the forgeborn shifted into statues and many of their flames extinguished, he instead shifted his form once again. A pegasus - a winged horse, coat black as night and eyes like fire flew in the air, silver mane whipping back as he flew towards the hydra. A slight silver line traced the mask around his eyes, and as he landed, he said nothing. He simply glared to where he sensed Torvaag.
    Last edited by HalfTangible; 2013-01-19 at 09:12 PM.
    Hate me if you want. But that's your issue to fix, not mine.

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    When Gods Go To War comes out March 8th

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  27. - Top - End - #1047
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    The Jongoscion on the back of the Chaos Hydra were a bit confused as the fighting began to die down. With a nod from one of Jongo's four heads, they slid down off of her back.

    Slowly, carefully, Jongo shifted back into the form of the small child in the overly large white shift. The last thing the head of fire did before hit disappeared and merged into one head was to bellow into the air a large ball of fire, which compacted upon itself, burning bright and free.

    One hand raised above his head, Jongo pulled it to her chest and held the ball of pure white fire close, protectively. With the other, Jongo waved away the Pegasus.

    "It's all right, Ouran. Find my brother, Butterfly. He'll be the great big one with the long beard and looking very angry that his town is under attack. I think he's up there." Pointing with his free hand, Jongo implores Ouran. "If we have any hope of ending this conflict somewhat peacefully, Butterfly must allow the Elder Elemental in. Torvaag is a... friend.

    He may not be very happy with me right now - with anyone - but it's an understandable grief. I've felt it too. Every time one of my own Jongoscion is taken from me. Anger. Hatred."
    Slowly, Jongo walked towards Torvaag. The Band of Chaos tooted a low, cheerful note.

    "Yes, it doesn't feel at all like cake. Not even coconut cake. And I mean, honestly, who likes coconut cake? It's all flaky and looks weird." Looking back down towards Torvaag, Jongo continued, "Right. Right. Not the point!"

    Holding the ball of fire near her heart, Jongo approached, walking past the Forgeborn, feeling their heat and anger. Jongo did not care.

    The screams from the battle above seemed unimportant. A flash of chaos from Fayruz nearly made Jongo drop the burning white ball of fire, but still, he walked towards Torvaag.

    "This is the fire I have pulled from as many Forgeborn that came towards me. I did not want to attack them, and I did not want to seal them in stone. The last thing that I felt they needed was to be trapped again. No. No, that's not right." Jongo carefully, gingerly, held the ball of fire out towards Torvaag, hoping it could be sensed. "The last thing that I felt they needed was for them to die. I couldn't stop them all from giving their lives. But I stopped as many as I could. Say the word, and not only is this ball of fire yours to do with as you see fit, but so am I. I surrender myself to you, Torvaag. I know your careful work, your careful patience. I beg you, as a friend of Water and Air, as a new friend of Fire... see wisdom. Ask the stones. Ask the fire. Find out what happened. And if you do not like what you find, then take it out on me, and me alone."

    Spoiler
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    1 Minor to create a sphere of living soul-flame, which can only be used to return life to the statues that were created by Jongo absorbing their flame - cost is dependent upon Dark's say-so.
    Last edited by Gengy; 2013-01-19 at 08:39 PM.
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    BladeofObliviom said:
    I've only seen a character at anything resembling this level of absurdity thrive exactly once, and he/she/what-the-jongo had the advantage of being written by Gengy, who I look up to as a writer.

    "What-the-Jongo?"
    Before you insult someone, walk a mile in their shoes.
    That way, you'll be a mile away, and have their shoes!

    Got me a Real Job™ (yay!). Still busy (boo!).
    ~avatar by myself

  28. - Top - End - #1048
    Firbolg in the Playground
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    A Family Stands Together
    "I mean, well, it's part of what family means."
    Kalandor, in a philosophical debate.

    Kalandor saw little when his sister was picked up, and though he recorded much, some was flashback.
    He remembered the puppeteer and the horror he felt grasped in it's hands.
    And he felt horror at the thought of failing her again.

    And in an instant, he was there, standing next to the Lord and Fayruz, with so many things happening simultainously, they reached him in a jumble, a strang ecalmness overwhelmed him, as he felt the word Jongo gave him, and he changed it a little. A short sentance.

    Almost as if it wasn't him, Kalandor watched himself place one hand on the underside of the Lord of Weal and Woes upper arm, and one on Fayruz's chest just below the Lords hand, pushing only slightly to the side. And he spokes words dripping with power.

    "Unbind, and go free."
    His words focused on the Lord of Weal and Woes hand, and their immediate surroundings, Fayruz and the Lord. And already, he felt things subtly let go.
    And that didn't count the reaction of the surroundings.

    For what would be just a moment, it would seem as exen gravity let go, hairs rose as the mortar of the house changed, no longer binding it's stones, some flew up before they fell, but the entire house became rubble as nothing held it together in it's already damaged state. Vuagly, Kalandor could feel Contragah coming, and his tug changed, pulling Fayruz off to one side.

    Spoiler
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    1 Minor Act: The Words Above. Designed to have the Lord of Weal and Woe let go of Fayruz, with Kalandor putting in to much power. Side effects include:
    General weakening of all beings around them.
    Temporary short range turning off of gravity.
    All Glues and other adhesives stop working.
    Straps stop holding things.

    So, 3/3/3 for Acts, until I spend more, as Jongo gave me 1 minor.
    Spoiler: Quotes!
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    Quote Originally Posted by Sun Hunter's Recruitment
    Quote Originally Posted by Sliver View Post
    Saying no to a Sun's Hunter is as close as it gets to an invitation to have your place destroyed by them)\
    Quote Originally Posted by Vedhin View Post
    In other words, be nice to the murderhobos so they don't murder you?
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    The professional, well-funded, well-backed, card-carrying, licensed murderhobos, yes.
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    Congrats, you made me laugh hard enough to draw my family's attention.


    Life is Hectic.

  29. - Top - End - #1049
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    Quote Originally Posted by TheDarkDM View Post

    Suspicions

    At Frellon's question, Lossethir barked out another hearty laugh. Whether vanity or foolishness, it was clear he did not regard the Puppeteer with the same dread as his brother. Finally seeming to notice Carolinus' probing gaze, he smiled again and gave a piercing whistle. From the storm clouds of his domain appeared fleeting shadows of mist and ice which swiftly coalesced into a pride of lions formed entirely of snow. They bounded through the empty air as though it were solid ground, before coming to a halt before Lossethir and his attendants.

    "Well, brothers, if this thing is truly so fearsome I think I'll see it for myself. Do not worry for my safety - Celonechor will not allow this thing entry. And who knows, I might see more success than you think possible."

    Lossethir mounted the lead lion of snow in a single smooth motion, and Frellon and Carolinus noticed that it was the only one with a mane in the pride. His actions were mirrored by his icy beauties, and soon their mounts had taken to the sky again, racing back towards the stormclouds. Turning to look back at his rapidly disappearing brothers, Lossethir cried out.

    "Give my regards to the others! I can feel a great many of them to the south - it must be some party!"

    Then he was gone, and in moments the great blizzard shifted south, moving with all the speed of divine will towards the realm of Fayruz and the Puppeteer.

    Frellon at Markien

    "There's a family meeting in Salus, Lossethir was right." Frellon was speaking to an Orunta spirit, as he meditated in his room later that night. After such an interruption the competition had been called off due to bad weather.

    I haven't seen them in fifty years... It's high time for a visit, a reunion would be nice. Frellon discussed it with Carolinus, and left the very next morning.

    Carolinus stayed behind, apparently unwilling to leave his people in the wake of the unexpected onset of an early winter season.

    Frellon summoned the three Orunta spirts he had sent to Salus to him, they would meet him in-transit, and since he would be going to Salus anyway he would much rather make his request to Haramhold in person.

    Frellon carried a small pack filled with everything he would need for an extended stay in the wild. With the sword of Heroes at his side he set out south. When Frellon traveled, he did not move slowly. He did not march, he did not wait for his Spirits to catch up, he stored the Orunta in the sword of heroes and exulted in the sensation of speed and freedom. He was a blur along the country side, bounding from hill to hill, leaving small craters with each step.

    Yet there was some tinge of restlessness in his mannerisms, for whn he had cast his senses south to his family, he had not sensed harmony. Wherever Jongo went, chaos followed, yet the chaos he had sensed was not pure as his siblings was. He had smelled the shadow of violence.

    It did not overly concern him, and yet, he had just the other day finished warning his foolhardy brother that there were powers that required all his siblings working in concert to challenge, and there were his siblings, all in one place, in some state of disharmony.

    Frellon's heart was light, for he was traveling towards joy, towards family, yet also toward some unknown mystery. Why were they all in one place after all?

    He supposed he would find out tomorrow, when he arrived.


    Orunta Spirits near Salus

    The three Orunta spirits watched the carnage and chaos from high above the field of battle, outside the barrier yet high in the sky. Details they could not make out, yet it did not look like the bastion of peace and harmony they were led to believe resided here. Their sense of duty was infalible, they knew this was their destination, they could simply not get in. The guards at the gate did not seem to be in any shape to take requests, so they had nothing to do but wait-

    -suddenly their sense of duty took a 180 degree turn. They needed to go back. Back across the sea, towards Markien again. They did so, dejected, yet at top speed. It would seem that they had failed, their master required their presence again.

    OOC:
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    I'm totally willing to radically alter this post should Ladorak spontaneously re-appear, but I needed a way to escape the situation.
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  30. - Top - End - #1050
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    Children of Chaos

    ...Butterfly? Ouran repeated, blinking a little. Butterfly? Who... or what... why... He shook his head, turned and flew off. Gods. However, before he'd gone too far, he saw a trio of Jongoscion and quickly landed, retracting his wings and shifting down into his raccoon form. Hi there, I'm Ouran, no time to talk. Jongo's sent me to find someone named 'Butterfly'. I have no idea who that is, or where he could possibly be. D'yall know?
    Hate me if you want. But that's your issue to fix, not mine.

    Primal ego vos, estis ex nihilo.

    When Gods Go To War comes out March 8th

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