Lords of Creation: Ancients of the Void IC

[Umbranar]

The Arena

As the all-out brawl starts, the two Arbiters bolt for a arena wall, throwing bolas and wrapping their adversaries in chains as they go.
At the wall a sort of back-to-back fighting begins and as skizzik and elf get near they throw their bolas and wrap their foes in chains.
No blood was spilled, no death on their side, merely piles of chained or knocked-out enemies. Some blows connect to the Arbiters, not killing them.
The plague-steel weapons weakens them though and at the end, only the black Arbiter is standing while the white Arbiter seems to be too weak to fight on.

[Eldamar]

Mending Madness - Ethereal Plane

Mirmulnir lifts his head quickly, a solution entering his mind, one that must be executed swiftly. The fragment of his being kneeling before Mkehet, the crumbled remains of the dwarf moon floating above the material, and the numerous Krakens still guarding the entranced Locathah all disappear at once, collapsing in on themselves as if a drain at their cores was plugged, sucked into a singularity before until nothing is left. At once, the splintered fragments coalesce into one, floating besides the Cosmic Tree, and with a speed unseen before his armored hands begin to weave. Strings of a silvery thread launch from his palms, flung across the expanses of space to stick to the crumbling and shattered boundaries the planes formed by Mekhet’s rings, reinforcing the edges of creation and sticking together the broken pieces.

Working without pause, the tree grows covered in this new web, sticking to every branch and fruit, and extending even to the edge of the void, everything interconnected and stabilized. The entrance of the void beasts ceases to a trickle, for this new web only holds the boundaries together and has done nothing to repair the cracks. But this material wasn’t indestructible, and will weaken in time by the forces pushing and pulling upon the strings, or by Yoo’s great acidic body dissolving it as she passes through.

Standing upon a taught strand of faintly sparking web, Mirmulnir reaches into his hood, digging deep inside of himself to withdraw an egg. He holds it high, gazing upon it for a long while, then at the vast web he’s created. It will need something to sustain in, make it grow to connect with new worlds, and something to destroy the monsters that leak in from the void. The egg sticks to the thread as Mir lays it down, well away from Yoo and the Tree, in the emptiness now filled with this highway of spider’s web.

As it waits to hatch, Mirmulnir fades once more to return again to the Ethereal, standing where he first left besides Mekhet.

“It is done.”

Spoiler: AP Actions

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Starting AP: 14
2AP Mending the Boundaries: To Mekhet for reinforcing the edges of creation. Pretty much a metaphysical spider web that literally sticks everything together and attaches the planes. Allowing for travel between planes to be easier, if you don't get lost.
4AP Create Fabled Life: Cosmic Spiders - Only one egg so far but soon to hatch. (I haven't decided what they'll look like yet.) Will maintain the web holding everything together, feed off the void creatures slipping in, and traveling along the web gathering news from across the realms for Mirmulnir in time. Interdimensional arachnids.
Ending AP: 8

[Eshkigal]

The World Tree

As the strain gets taken off Mekhet, more tendrils begin working at other tasks, catching falling debris and shoving or killing things trying to pierce their way into reality back where they came from. The beast attacking the Process gets throttled to death as it gets dragged back to its pit. Mekhet seems to be doing a bit better after, and the outflow is becoming a lot more manageable now that it is no longer trying to concentrate on keeping the tree from growing in dangerous patterns and can focus on damage prevention.
"Thaaaank...you..."
It seems to slowly be recovering now, its thrashing dying down. The eyes are looking tired on the rings, though, so tired...

Mekhet (Nat 1 from me, so Combo Finisher, guys!)
Sideshne burns the Not God, and the beast begins writhing in agony as its wounds from the three of you become too much, far too much. It's on its last legs! Go for the Kill!
The tide of other beasts seems to be getting stemmed by Mekhet's using your powers to assist its efforts, even as it still bleeds off its own power to ensure safety for the rest of creation. The barrier is getting patched, so soon all that will be left will be clean up of what beasts are left. Looks like the worst may slowly be getting left behind.

Within Galvastian Borders

As Ien's tribe began mopping up, revenants, as they tend to always do, begin to rise. Some Toraq had died in a rather surprising trap someone had thought (truthfully, just some bad luck with rather large support beam holes that they had covered for the moment) before being nailed to a tree a few yards away from where they had been, thrown from their horses and having necks broken by the impact. But as they rise, something glints in the distance. Ien draws and shoots, only to have his arrow, his blood, shatter against the immense, radiant face of a bird larger than any he had seen before, taller than him mounted. The bird's face looked like a picked away skeleton, skull gleaming in the fires as it flew closer on a body that looked dessicated from hunger, but still showed a strength not even the mighty Toraq could meet, a long, lashing rat tail that could cleave a tree behind that. His jaw drops as he stares at the beast, flying past him like all he had done was brush it with a leaf, before breathing a cloud of putrescent, vile green gas that spreads through the suddenly wary Toraq before reaching the first Eternal Warrior. Upon contact, the revenant's flesh putrefied in seconds, becoming a puddle of greenish sludge and bleached bone as the Great Bird landed before it. What was left was devoured as the gas began spreading through the town, catching up to even the Toraq's horses but leaving man and beast untouched, save for the dead, moving and unmovig alike, each devoured like the first. Once all revenants and corpses were gone down its gullet, it ignores the other Toraq as it spreads its wings, taking off for parts unknown.

Verenzano
Meanwhile, the Ooze Crabs had been busy with Verenzano. Gone were the weaker fortifications they had before, replaced by walls to rival Galvastia's own. Part of the river has been carefully diverted below ground, only coming above to form a moat of caustic death around the city save for one entry point guarded by arbiters and toraq. Within they began building what would in time be the basis of two shrines, one to Lord of Luck Heramaes of their best stonework, a place where deals were made and money was gambled. The other to Blood Father Artoran, built of bone as a grand Ossuary, a place where Toraq brought trophies and the remains of their dead for display and interring, becoming part of the grand tribute to the Blood Father. They also built a wishing well to Mekhet, more to give the mad god a place to get ideas from, leading to the underground trails of ooze, where they had also been hollowing out homes for themselves while building up ooze proof supports for the city, trading with the Verenzano, working with them, ultimately getting to the point where they would never wish to be separated from their soft skinned allies.

They had found a home.

They had also begun to develop a system in the dream, where they talked to their dead-the Eternal Dreamers. In dreams they taught their deceased what they knew, how to build and of the mortals they had found. In turn, the Eternal Dreamers began telling other crabs and each other of these achievements, this knowledge, sharing it, spreading it. Soon, Verenzano had an influx of crabs it did not know about, seeking to strengthen the first true home their people had ever made. Soon, many ooze rivers had the protective barriers that first arose near Verenzano, the bridges that would not dissolve. This was only the beginning of what the ooze crabs would learn and save of their knowledge.

They had found their path.

Spoiler: AP expenditure (Ooze Crab)

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7/15 AP (two from Eldamar for my control of the Tree), 1 PAP
Form Society (Join Verenzano Society)-2 AP. Ooze crabs have gone further with their contract than they had to and have joined with Verenzano to the point the two are inseperable.

Blessing - 1 AP. Dream talker-Ooze Crabs see their dead when they sleep, and they teach and talk with them. This serves as a strange combination of accessible racial memory and hivemind, allowing ideas to spread past natural barriers to any and all ooze crabs over time.

5/15 AP, 0 PAP

Near Mount Halcua

Not all shards of Chaos were caught, however. One crashed to the ground of the Static, where it warps and changes. It begins to split, as tiny creatures begin clawing their way out. Small, albino lizards, with somewhat heavy claws, stand on their hind legs and look up at the sky, burning bright. They hiss and curse and spit at the sun, before they begin to claw at the ground. Finding it gives way to their mighty claws, they begin to dig, going down into the comforting soil.

Spoiler: AP Expenditure: Kobold

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5/15 AP, 0 PAP
Create Mundane Life 2 AP-Kobolds. Albino lizard folk about three feet tall and whose hands have heavy digging claws. Thanks to clothes being a free concept, they tend to wear masks and heavy garb outside of their burrows, their masks made from hand carved stone. Most races don't see under these masks as they are notoriously shy around other species. They are going to be born miners, just have to see if I have to make the concept.

3/15 AP remaining

(Ut'Gal next time!)

[Darklady2831]

Spoiler: The Ermark, the Dragon, and Ikikk Stormclaw

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The Arena

Two brave Ermark quickly rush forward, likely thinking they can overwhelm the defenses and push through. A few seconds later it was made very clear that charging through was not a viable strategy.

The others learn from the folly of their brethren, the remaining seventeen keeping a bit more distance between the Skizzik and themselves. Had the Skizzik been armed with a typical weapon, victory would have been all but assured. But with their deadly blades that killed with a touch? The slightest cut would mean death, a fact that keeps the Toraq from rushing in headlong to the fray.

However, little by little they shift, eventually lining up multiple mismatches. The Skizzik may have the superior tools but the Ermark were quick, ducking and dashing away from the Stormvermin guards. Even by simple math the Ermark could afford a one for one trade. Soon there were eight guards and fifteen Ermark. Six and fourteen. Three and ten. None and seven.

And seven was all that remained, the young, brash Ermark forming a half-circle around the giant Skizzik, none willing to be the first to charge in.

As if responding to the Skizziks' challenge, the black dragon lands behind the Stormvermin and lets out a ferocious roar as it unleashes its breath weapon, not caring whether it hits Elf or Foreigner. Leaving a line of acid in its wake, the angry dragon roars once again, as the crowd's roar is deafening. Even with the chaos of the battle in the arena and the appearance of the Reapers to do battle against the Revenants, some sections of the crowd begin to cheer for the Reapers, while others cheer for the Wraiths. Those fighting within the arena were bleeding and dying for the amusement of the Elven Nation,and the Elves loved them for that regardless of their race. Upon the sands of the Arena, everyone bled equally for the Elves and their Queen.

However there was at least one Elf who was not amused at the spectacle. Even while Kar'Vode'an was busy with herself, the Eldern Elder calls over one of his guards and gives an order.

The Arena

Ikikk cackles in glee, as the last of his Stormvermin die. "Fool-fools are quick-slick! Can count, apparently." He rushes forward, his Halberd swinging in long elegant arcs. He spins several times during the charge, quickly striking all around him. His attacks are quick, and calculated. Every time an Ermark swings, they seem to find empty air as Ikikk twists his momentum to avoid the blow. One Ermark falls, impaled through the chest. Ikikk giggles, and another charges at his back. The Skizzik's eyes flicker backwards, and in the span of half a second the Polearm is ripped out of the chest of one Ermark and chops off the arm of this one at the elbow. The Elf howls in pain, only to be decapitated. Ikikk leaps through the air, swinging wildly at a Third Ermark. The one dodges, barely, finding himself only knicked by the blade. The wound bleeds, and the Elf knows his scar patterns to be ruined. The Ermark howls in rage and charges recklessly. Ikikk steps out of the way, sweeping his blade low and cutting both of the Elf's legs, causing him to fall. Soon after, his head is stabbed by the Skizzik's blade.

The remaining four Elves charge as one, unmolested by the other Skizziks who are busy fighting a losing battle against the Arbiters and the Black Dragon. Ikikk's eyes widen and he swings in a wide horizontal arc. Three elves duck backwards, avoiding the blow. One Ermark is a moment too slow, and finds his chest slashed, bleeding profusely. The Dragon roars, unleashing another torrent of acid at Ikikk and the elves near him. The Rat leaps up, avoiding the caustic breath, but the Elf behind him is not so lucky. The acid coats the elf, who howls in pain as his flesh bubbles and sloughs off. The Elf is not yet dead, and he roars, pushing himself forward, past the blade of the polearm. Ikikk squeals as a Glassteel blade stabs into his shoulder. His halberd flails against the Ermark, the polearm too long to fight effectively. He claws at the burned Elf's throat, and tears it open, killing him. Soon, another Ermark is upon him, and another. The Commander squeals in pain loudly, as a Glassteel blades pierce his chest. He lashes out with his claws, scratching four long marks across the Ermark's chest. A second Glassteel blade piercing his chest, and he spits blood. The Elves rip their blades out of the Skizzik, and he falls to his knees. "I die... for the... vermin... queen..." he gasps out. The last Ermark hefts his blade in two hands, and separates the Skizzik's head from his shoulders. It rolls to the ground, coming to rest against the burned corpse of his last kill.

Spoiler: The Arbiters

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The Arena

As the all-out brawl starts, the two Arbiters bolt for a arena wall, throwing bolas and wrapping their adversaries in chains as they go.
At the wall a sort of back-to-back fighting begins and as skizzik and elf get near they throw their bolas and wrap their foes in chains.
No blood was spilled, no death on their side, merely piles of chained or knocked-out enemies. Some blows connect to the Arbiters, not killing them.
The plague-steel weapons weakens them though and at the end, only the black Arbiter is standing while the white Arbiter seems to be too weak to fight on.

After three dozen Skizziks are knocked unconscious, tripped, immobilized, or otherwise taken out attempting to just reach the Arbiters, the Skizziks wielding polearms begin to back off. The Arbiter grins, thinking its won, only to have its smile vanish as twenty archers turn to aim at the pair. "Fire!" shouts the Nightbow (the name they give their Expert Marksmen who lead Archer squads). Twenty plaguesteel arrows whiz through the air, half missing and a third being deflected by chains and swift movements. Slowly but surely, they are whittled down.

The Skizzik Archers fire arrow after arrow at the Arbiter, but as they see them slowing, they laugh. Sixteen of the Archers turn, firing at the dragon instead, their Plaguesteel arrows nicking its thick hide and bouncing off of its scales. Three Archers continue to fire at the Arbiters, many of their arrows being deflected by the Black Arbiter's chain. They look terrified, but keep firing. That is, they keep firing until the Nightbow shouts out. "IKIKK'S DEAD! SCURRY AWAY!" The Nightbow breaks formation, tucks his bow into his sheathe, and begins running on all fours towards the pit that the Skizziks arrived from.

The remaining archers look over to the Dragon and their dead commander, before squealing in terror and running as fast as they can, a few dropping their bows to run on all fours. Panic spreads through the Skizzik ranks quickly, those who can turning to flee as soon as they can. The Dragon rages through their ranks, claws and fangs killing one fourth of the fleeing forth, and breath weapon killing a few more.

Spoiler: The Child's Journey

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Drow Lands

"Why yes, you do have a week's travel ahead of you," The Child says, grinning vengefully. "A week of traveling with a creature that will sleep less than you. A creature that feels no pain. A creature that cannot die."

"If you wish to complete this journey, I suggest you learn the proper respect," The Child says, dropping the Captain as he strides away towards the desert.

And The Child laughed.

The Desert of Anval

Along the coast, the first few days were rather pleasant. The air was nice and cool because of the sea breeze, and the Drow chatted with each other and the Child often enough. The nights were spent camped, playing card games and rolling dice to entertain themselves. The Captain was in a sour mood the second day, having lost a week's pay on a bet. The third day was nearly perfect, but the fourth day... the fourth day way different.

The journey away from the coast was long, hot, and uncomfortable. The northern desert received just enough rainfall during the night to have the day's air thick with humidity. The Drow, while attempting to look like the heat didn't bother them, are stinking with sweat. Their light purple robes have sweat stains at the pits, and their hair is matted. They keep silent most of the journey, only answering direct questions with short phrases or single words. Quite frankly, it's boring for the Laughing Child.

Spoiler: The Caves; Skizzik Overlords, Goblin Slaves, and... Newcomers?

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The Goblins

The goblins had last everything. Everything! They'd been driven from their refineries by the Skizzik. They were left with nothing, nothing but the few meager pails of ooze they had escaped with. Well, that and their lives.

But, for some odd reason, none blame the Skizzik. No, the Skizzik did not appear until the humans had. The humans caused all of this! Falling upon the peaceful goblins out of nowhere, beating good gob-kind to death for no reason. It wasn't until after the humans that the Skizzik had come, enslaving their people.

So, who could blame the goblins for the fact that, when they saw a human city on the distance, they didn't think to trade or barter or speak with the humans.

They began to scheme, clever little minds whirring away.

Near Mount Halcua

Not all shards of Chaos were caught, however. One crashed to the ground of the Static, where it warps and changes. It begins to split, as tiny creatures begin clawing their way out. Small, albino lizards, with somewhat heavy claws, stand on their hind legs and look up at the sky, burning bright. They hiss and curse and spit at the sun, before they begin to claw at the ground. Finding it gives way to their mighty claws, they begin to dig, going down into the comforting soil.

Spoiler: AP Expenditure: Kobold

Show

5/15 AP, 0 PAP
Create Mundane Life 2 AP-Kobolds. Albino lizard folk about three feet tall and whose hands have heavy digging claws. Thanks to clothes being a free concept, they tend to wear masks and heavy garb outside of their burrows, their masks made from hand carved stone. Most races don't see under these masks as they are notoriously shy around other species. They are going to be born miners, just have to see if I have to make the concept.

3/15 AP remaining

Undergalvastia, Great Lakes; The Skizziks and the Slaves

It had taken only two months for the Skizziks' conquest of the Goblins to be complete. Thousands of corpses were carted off into Skizzblight to feed the Skizzik war machine's hunger. Tens of Thousands of Goblin slaves were corralled into the darkness of Skizzblight, forced to labor hard in the Plaguestone mines that made possible the Skizzik's Plaguesteel weapons. Goblin slaves were fed just enough moss and leftovers to survive and reproduce. The Skizziks' reliance on their own people for slave labor lessened, and the Skizz-Slave caste shrunk drastically. Instead of slavery, crimes were punished with 'Labor Payment'. The offenders were not made property, only forced to work for those they offended for a year or two. More serious crimes, rebellion and the like, were still punished with slavery or death.

In Great Lakes, the Goblins' former capital, the Plaguepriests of Lepros and the Priests of Progress picked through the ruins, guarded by contingents of Stormvermin. The Plaguepriests searched for magic, knowledge, and holy relics, whilst the Priests of Progress studied the Goblin's technology. Their distilleries were perhaps the most intruiging, and the Priests of Progress had half of them disassembled and shipped to Under-Crucible for experimentation. The rest were studied on site, and slowly but surely the Skizziks learned the ins and outs of Ooze Distillery. Soon, a fledgling drug trade began in Skizzblight, hallucinogenic ooze sold to whoever could pay with either gear, food, slaves, or labor.

Spoiler: AP Expenditure

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1 AP/2 PAP + 5 AP - 2 AP = 4 AP/2 PAP

2 AP Create Organization - The Stormvermin:

Spoiler: Stormvermin

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Stormvermin are the largest, strongest, fastest Skizzik Warriors. They are the most well trained and well armed soldiers in Skizzblight. To become a Stormvermin, one must demonstrate their ability to fight, and impress their Chieftain, Warlord, or even the Underking Himself. Those who are selected for training are sent to a Fortress-City in Northern Skizzblight, deep within the many miles wide pit known at the Skizzblight Abyss.

There, they are trained by master Warriors who have demonstrated extreme loyalty to the King-Under-the-Caves. When the Stormlords (As the master warriors are called) deem the warrior ready, he is sold to the clan that pays for him. If the Skizzik is rich enough, he buys himself, and sometimes starts a group of mercenaries, but most often simply chooses where he wants to fight. One in thirteen Stormvermin are given to the Underking as tribute. These Stormvermin form the Underking's personal guard, and his Elite forces that keep the peace among Warlords.

The Stormvermin are highly Religious. While not priests, they are zealots who worship Naer'Va and Artoran almost exclusively (Though they acknowledge Kereth for his role in their afterlives). They prefer to go to Artoran's afterlife, finding eternal battle to be preferable to reincarnation most of the time.

While most Skizzik leaders reserve the right to run away when challenged, Stormvermin leaders relish in duels, and are fearless compared to other Skizziks (They still get scared, but only as much as say a veteran human knight).

[Arcran]

The Arena

Spoiler: The Ermark Triad

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Spoiler: The Ermark, the Dragon, and Ikikk Stormclaw

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Ikikk cackles in glee, as the last of his Stormvermin die. "Fool-fools are quick-slick! Can count, apparently." He rushes forward, his Halberd swinging in long elegant arcs. He spins several times during the charge, quickly striking all around him. His attacks are quick, and calculated. Every time an Ermark swings, they seem to find empty air as Ikikk twists his momentum to avoid the blow. One Ermark falls, impaled through the chest. Ikikk giggles, and another charges at his back. The Skizzik's eyes flicker backwards, and in the span of half a second the Polearm is ripped out of the chest of one Ermark and chops off the arm of this one at the elbow. The Elf howls in pain, only to be decapitated. Ikikk leaps through the air, swinging wildly at a Third Ermark. The one dodges, barely, finding himself only knicked by the blade. The wound bleeds, and the Elf knows his scar patterns to be ruined. The Ermark howls in rage and charges recklessly. Ikikk steps out of the way, sweeping his blade low and cutting both of the Elf's legs, causing him to fall. Soon after, his head is stabbed by the Skizzik's blade.

The remaining four Elves charge as one, unmolested by the other Skizziks who are busy fighting a loosing battle against the Arbiters and the Black Dragon. Ikikk's eyes widen and he swings in a wide horizontal arc. Three elves duck backwards, avoiding the blow. One Ermark is a moment too slow, and finds his chest slashed, bleeding profusely. The Dragon roars, unleashing another torrent of acid at Ikikk and the elves near him. The Rat leaps up, avoiding the caustic breath, but the Elf behind him is not so lucky. The acid coats the elf, who howls in pain as his flesh bubbles and sloughs off. The Elf is not yet dead, and he roars, pushing himself forward, past the blade of the polearm. Ikikk squeals as a Glassteel blade stabs into his shoulder. His halberd flails against the Ermark, the polearm too long to fight effectively. He claws at the burned Elf's throat, and tears it open, killing him. Soon, another Ermark is upon him, and another. The Commander squeals in pain loudly, as a Glassteel blades pierce his chest. He lashes out with his claws, scratching four long marks across the Ermark's chest. A second Glassteel blade piercing his chest, and he spits blood. The Elves rip their blades out of the Skizzik, and he falls to his knees. "I die... for the... vermin... queen..." he gasps out. The last Ermark hefts his blade in two hands, and separates the Skizzik's head from his shoulders. It rolls to the ground, coming to rest against the burned corpse of his last kill.

The three elves stand there, all exhausted from the duel as they look from the fleeing Skizzik to the dragon flying above to the last remaining Arbiter.

The first, Alain of the Sixth Spear was a Ermark woman who was hardly an adult yet. Still, somehow she had made it through the greatest battle in Ermark history without a single scratch and had even helped to slay the Skizzik captain. A single sword was her weapon, the red casting an eerie light through the glassteel.

The second, Jahon of the Fourth Sword, was the one who had been scratched across the chest by the chieftain. Fortunately for him, Jahon had left his chest wide open as a stylistic choice, meaning that no scars were ruined. Later he would take a knife and turn the parallel scratches and turn that into continuation of the design. He had fought through the battle with a spear, making his survival all the more incredible considering how many of the Skizzik had made use of polearms.

The final was Miko of the First Sword, an Ermark born to a family of great rank. He had always been the best warriors, the fastest, the strongest, the best with the blade. And now it showed. He, like Alain, had made it through the battle with narry a scratch, his perfect patterns still entirely in tact. Miko made use of a sword in either hand, fighting as a whirling dervish of destruction.

The three look at one another, breathing heavily. While an Ermark has great endurance even it has its limit. The three grin. What they had done was stupid, suicidal. It was a wonder that they were still alive?

The three minds seemed to think as one. They had already survived one impossible battle today; why not another?

And so the three ran towards the dragon, seeking to make their tale one for the ages.

The Land of Sand and Wind

Spoiler: Naked Wins

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The Desert of Anval

Along the coast, the first few days were rather pleasant. The air was nice and cool because of the sea breeze, and the Drow chatted with each other and the Child often enough. The nights were spent camped, playing card games and rolling dice to entertain themselves. The Captain was in a sour mood the second day, having lost a week's pay on a bet. The third day was nearly perfect, but the fourth day... the fourth day way different.

The journey away from the coast was long, hot, and uncomfortable. The northern desert received just enough rainfall during the night to have the day's air thick with humidity. The Drow, while attempting to look like the heat didn't bother them, are stinking with sweat. Their light purple robes have sweat stains at the pits, and their hair is matted. They keep silent most of the journey, only answering direct questions with short phrases or single words. Quite frankly, it's boring for the Laughing Child.

Spoiler: The Caves; Skizzik Overlords, Goblin Slaves, and... Newcomers?

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The Child can only laugh as he looks at the drow. With all their speech of fancy clothing and propriety, who was the one that surprisingly cool now?

Sure, his skin had burned almost off at first, peeling in great chunks. However, his Pureblood, his blessing from Artoran, simply created that armor-like scar tissue, covering where The Child had been singed. While his hide had once been skin covered with scars now it was simply a giant, iron-hard scar.

The Child looks at the sky, wondering what is above, watching the many moons fly around the plane. Moons...

There had been two Red Eclipses while he traveled towards the elvish lands, one of which had set him back nearly a week of travel. The Child was no fool and, soon enough, linked the Red Eclipse to his transformation. When he became the Roaring Child instead of the Laughing one. It had been quite some time since the last eclipse, and The Child was beginning to ponder when the next would be.

"Say," he says, turning to walk backwards in front of the captain, arms behind his head to fully show his nakedness. "When will the sky turn red once more? If you want to stay in one piece that may be important."

And The Child laughed.

A Battle for Mekhet

Spoiler: Ready, FIGHT!

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Mekhet (Nat 1 from me, so Combo Finisher, guys!)
Sideshne burns the Not God, and the beast begins writhing in agony as its wounds from the three of you become too much, far too much. It's on its last legs! Go for the Kill!
The tide of other beasts seems to be getting stemmed by Mekhet's using your powers to assist its efforts, even as it still bleeds off its own power to ensure safety for the rest of creation. The barrier is getting patched, so soon all that will be left will be clean up of what beasts are left. Looks like the worst may slowly be getting left behind.

Artoran grins wickedly. The tide had slowed and his body was slowly knitting itself back together faster than he was wounded, his entrails being pulled back into his body like a limp noodle.

With a mad look in his eyes he rushes the Not God one last time, Drinker held high, seeking to simply split his foe in two.

Spoiler: Roll

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(1d10+4)[7]

A Land of Volcanoes

One by one Hild's warriors slowly climbs the mountain, making their way towards the shrine. They were alone, unguarded; they could flee, could they not? All it would cost is the rest of the tribe...

Hild shakes his head, throwing the thought aside. He could not abandon his people, even if it could save his son.

All of the Toraq have their Blood Weapon in hand, clutching it as if it was their only lifeline which, frankly, it is. All but Hild's son, a child who had not yet earned his name. Unlike the other children the blood had not formed for him, had not made his first Blood Weapon. The tribe had taken it as a sign of weakness but Hild had protected his son, keeping him safe.

As he looks around though, searching for his only child, he cannot find him.

"Whelp!" he shouts desperately. "Whelp, where are you!"

There's no answer save for a soft clicking nearby. Hild turns to see his son, walking side by side with a creature, clearly a babe itself. It seemed a walking fortress, all hard shell and spikes with a massive weighted tail. The beast was almost as tall as his son but easily twice as long. The two seemed to be getting along splendidly but was more incredible was what was on his son's arm.

A flat, round disc, clearly made of blood.

Hild shouts with joy. A Blood Weapon! For his son! He runs to him, picking him up and spinning him in the air.

"You are Ank," he says, kissing his son upon the forehead, tears in his eyes, "Son of Hild, Wilder of the Toraq, the Chosen People of the Blood-Father," he says, tears running freely down his face.

The tribe does not judge their leader for they could only imagine the feeling. A child without a Blood Weapon could be no true heir, no true son. Their leader had gained an heir and regained a child all in the span of a few seconds.

And so the Toraq marched on, the infectious joy of their leader flowing through them, giving them something to fight for, something to die for.

And the Toraq reach the shrine.

[Eshkigal]

Base of Mt. Halcua
One of the Ut'Gal approaches the Toraq left, looking them over.
"You lot are hungry, but do not eat rock and soil."
The giant points to one of them, whose eyes are wide.
"You, you shall show us what your kind eat. We will at least let you eat one last time if your champions fail."

[MichaelGoldclaw]

At Castle Beringar

To war

Falrak was now in the clear. He not only pissed of the Toraq, but now he didn't turn a profit. He notice something glaring in the distance, but he ignores it. He was focusing on the Castle in the distance. Castle Beringar, the home of the Knights-Mender and the Duchess Hallian, or did Grandmistress overceed it? Whatever, he would find out anyway. Benigar was now about 10 minutes away now. When he arrived, two knights escorted her to Hallian. She found Hallian in her chambers writing a letter. She turned to see Falrak. The moment she does, she looks away. She stated "Go away. I have no time for scoundrels." Falrak sighed.

"I am not here to flirt with you or to bend your rules. I am here to give you a message. The main Toraq tribe no longer welcome Galvastian merchants passing by. I fear my actions of self defense angered them. I fear they may start attacks on our villages. We may even be at war now." Falrak replied. The Grandmistress sighed.

"By Aleru, what did you do?"

"Wait, you automatically think I am responsible?"

"Why not? That tribe has let us be before now?"

"The Tora-"

"ENOUGH!" came a voice. Everyone turned to watch the king enter. They bowed at his arrival. "This needless bickering is useless. If all of the Toraq are now hostile, then we need to muster our defenses faster, not argue with each other. The Knights-Mender will be needed in this as well as you, Falrak. A militia needs to be raised. Every knight and soldier needs to be on our front. Now as for you Falrak, you know the Toraq better than anyone else. You best tell us everything."

After discussing everything about the Toraq, including the details he noticed on their rage, their bows, and their reflexes, Falrak left to investigate the glare. He walked closer and found a red gem, no THE red gem, but he was resisting its lure, somehow. Maybe because he had a strong force of will, or maybe just because he prayed to Aleru for protection. The latter has to be it He then noticed what it was trying to do, but he still attempted to grab it. He took a running start and...

Success. He was the only Human who could make the jump to the branch. Now he just had to get... back.

"Ah crap." he said under his breath. He wasn't lured by it, but he still sprung the trap. "Oh Aleru, help me."

"You called?" smirked a shard of Aleru, who offered a hand for Falrak. He was stunned. Aleru, before his own eyes. Falrak took it and got down to the ground. "You hold a dark artifact in your hands. Take it away from here, past the dome of light, and discard it. But be warned, my protection requires daily, prolonged prayers and even then, the lure of the gem will only get stronger."

"I will be careful then, my Lady."

Spoiler: Ap

Show

4-1-1
-1: Falrak is the only one who can resist the red gem. He has to set aside some time to pray each day for one hour to receive resistance to it. The resistance
-1: Goblins, which I will post about later

[ThePhantom]

The Shrine

The shrine is a simple affair, a free standing building carved out of the rock of the mountain. Within the shrine, there is a small pillar, where sits what appears to be an old man, wearing a red blanket wrapped around himself.

"Welcome to Mount Halcua. So, you come here to claim this place for your god, correct? Are you sure that would be wise? There are other gods in the world. This shrine and the temple up at the peak show that clearly. But you came here to prove your worth yes? So, come, Hild and Ank, give me your hand."

The old man stretches out his withered hands, waiting for their decision.

Near Mount Halcua

A young Ut'Gal, exploring to find some inspiration for a new song, sees the disturbance caused this chaotic act and wanders over to where these tiny white creatures are digging. How strange to find creatures so nearly the physical opposite of the Ut'Gal.

"What are you?"

[mystic1110]

The Seduction of Naer'Va

Spoiler

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Naer'Va cackled with glee, watching the god die. "Life churns on, your apocalypse never coming... Goodbye, Dead Wind."

She raised her head, looking around. "Sister?" She asked softly. "Who are you?"

She began to walk towards the seeming source of the voice, finding herself drudging through endless swamps, the air around her swimming with strange colors and scents.

Dream slowly fell away into fantasy.

One might think the two are one and the same but they are so very different. The plane hangs on the lowest branch of the Tree - closer to dream than any other world. Fantasy and imagination are like dream, but they are much more forceful - dream is the realization of your unconsciousness, while fantasy is the molding of your consciousness.

Here in imagination is the Titan known as the Seductress with no Name.

The Titan is enormous - a statuesque ebony skinned woman that lounged on mountains and used the oceans basin as a cup. Her eyes were the size of small moons - with gravity to match. They were deep and black, piercing in their stare. The Seductress was naked, her nipple a volcano, her hair long and dark like the night itself - but after all it was.

Naer'Va walked towards the titan on a thin arch of dream which intruded upon imagination. The path only took her up to a mile away from the titan, who reclined on the continent and stared at the approaching goddess.

Her lips were red

She smiled, her white teeth showing, and said

Welcome sister. Welcome.

[Toxic Mind]

The Killing Blow

Kereth sees the thing that is not-Zarchesh trying to flee, its will to consume and fight broken. Kereth looks at his once-son, and there is pity in his eyes. For all that they were enemies, Zarchesh was born of Kereth's power, and therein lay a connection that transcended oblivion. "Before you taste oblivion my son, you will be free of this darkness one last time." The titanic being of Light shrinks down to Kereth once more. As the being in front of him scrambles to get away, he walks calmly towards it. Chains of light extend from his hands, wrapping around the limbs of the not-god and anchoring themselves into the Plane itself. The body is bound to the Ethereal Plane, unable to move or fight.

If Spirit Magic allowed Reapers to cleanse souls, to affect spirit creatures such as themselves and Wraiths, then one could only imagine what Kereth could do with such power. There are two types of spirit magic, the physical manifestation, typically involving binding implements or weapons, and the spiritual manifestation, which involved runes drawn directly onto the soul, imposing the user's will upon the bearer of the rune. Kereth bends to the form, and inscribes a glowing rune on it's forehead, which for those who could read, read "Cleansing" and another that read "Rebuke" and finally a third rune, black as oblivion, which read "Void". As the third rune was inscribed, the not-god howls, and the beings within it are engulfed in Light, burning their hideous forms from existence.

Kereth stands, and steps aside as Artoran rushes in with his axe. "Be free of it, and go quietly into the nothing, my son." And for the second time since the dawn of the world, a tear rolls down Kereth's cheek.

Under the Protection of Death

As it ends, Kereth sees the body of Naer'Va lying nearby. He can sense her soul elsewhere, but such a concern is secondary, for now. Kereth remembers the Wraith-Artoran, and will not risk another calamity. He moves to Naer'Va's body, and on her chest draws a faint rune. "Protection", and another on her forehead, "Guidance". As the first rune seals, a glowing bubble extends around the goddess, warding against all creatures of the spirit, though not against gods. Kereth himself stands watch against those, as he conjures a chair made of immaterium, and sits next to the body, waiting for the others to speak.

Spoiler: Naer'Va

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In the dream, you can feel Kereth's Guidance Rune as a beacon leading away from the dream, a lifeline should you grab it, though the god himself is not present.

[Dracio]

Segmentum- Noctis

Ever since Mekhet had called in the favor required of Iksar-ven and made felt a bit of his displeasure in the laxity in action things had become slightly strange. The rivers of plasma had begun to flow differently at times as well as the time cycle established being thrown for a loop.

Plans had been made and lists of supplies drawn up for the coming incursion on the First World. Scouts had already been deployed ahead and returned with knowledge of the terrain below. It appears the bridge would deposit them in the southern reaches of a massive desert on Anval.

As the plans were being laid and the scouts going hither and thither the rest of the Infernalis were not idle. Deep within the plasma forges on the Fortress-Cities hammer strokes and roars where heard throughout the days and nights. Weapons were being forged anew or sharped forth coming incursion.

Different aspects of Infernalis society were coming together for the first time since the founding to create new instruments to use. At times Iskar-ven would descend down to them to offer aid in the crafting and final development of his important gift. He also knew that it would have to be shared and he would be damned if his children were not masters of the craft before then.

Even at Mekhet's suffering elsewhere the forges did not stop nor pause. And finally things began to wind down as all that would be coming were equipped. Rows of armour in polished metals the world below had never seen, each unique bearings the hallmark design of its infernal smith yet similar and bound to the others in the blue-green metal that comprised each suit. At Iskar-ven's order next to the rows lay a massive heap of armour and barding which had risen many questions.

Questions that had been answered as from the mountains and valleys near Noctis a horde of fiends strode towards the gate. The only things stopping the call to arms from being shouted was Iskar-ven's hand and the Fiends arriving in columns to the gates.

The Infernalis had held their tongues as the Fiends donned their own armour but all were disgruntled that their kin-foe was wearing armour that would match. But they knew the wrathful fire that burned within their own hearts and did not wish to see its eruption on the a god-like scale. And so they took their orders and formed into ranks and stood shoulder to shoulder with their kin-foe as all checks were made.

Once all was set Iskar-ven strode to the front of the mass and spoke, a few lines to steel the tempers of his children and have them focus once more at the task at hand. "My children today you stand shoulder to shoulder with those you would consider friend and foe alike, but they are none the less your kin and bound to the Closed Plan as you are. This hour you shall march as one till our strife and terror have touched every race on the world below and perhaps even thouse that lay beyond.

We could rain from the skies or appear from the very air itself with our gifts and those that others have created, but we shall not. We shall stand as one and move with unity the likes which has never been seen before. We march because it symbolic of what we shall bring on those below us! We march for terror, for strife, and twilight hour. March my daughters, march my sons, go forth my children in midnight clad!"

As the final sentence is spoken he can see that for the moment the tensions have ebbed, they would stand united for now. Once this march was over though the Fiends would likely scatter the world and Segmentum over as the Infernalis may perhaps make a claim on some part of the world before returning home.

While the moment was still seized Iskar-ven drew forth his first sword and now bedecked in full armor bellowed, "WE MARCH!" Setting off onto the bridge of bone and whatever future was to come.

Anval Desert -Southern Reaches

The march though long was still held in good spirits, as when they made footfall on sand the entire incursion force had been singing a song of things to come. At the base of the bridge all were once more drawn up into columns as one last check was performed. After all was acceptable, the hardest challenge lay before Iskar-ven as he would need to divide the incursion force.

His oath to Mekhet would have to be filled and would require sending a force off to find the Ooze crabs, who could also hopefully tell of the location of the Ut'Gal. He would need a sizable force to attack a human populated area to also fulfill an oath and it was this task that he would watch over. Lastly there was the a need to send a force north to the elves and his allies House Starlight and with that he came to the hard conclusion.

He would divide the force half accompanying him to the humans, a fourth to the fulfill the deal of Mekhet, and the remain fourth to House Starlight. Two shards would also be split off to watch over the two fourths to ensure they would arrive. Iskar-ven did not like splitting his force but he had little choice. At least with the three councilors watching over Aldrasil, Segmentum would be secure for their return.

EastingTravels

Knowing Maruk was a walking crab of a scale seldom imagined the incursion group named Delta was comprised mostly of those Infernalis and Fiends that possessed wings. Their journey would be long with only true rest once they had secured space with the ooze crabs and the location of Ut'Gal known.

With task given and supplies secured their long journey began east to first check with Maruk.

Northern Elves

The incursion force tasked with the Elven lands was named Beta and was sent northeast. Things rarely go as planned though as the further northeast they went the more scents the Fiends picked up. Two distinct spore scents lingered in the heated air. One that ran towards the large river and coast while the other in the direction of the Elves.

In the end the decision on action was delayed to the last minute when the both the shard and the Fiends could not deny something existed to the east. After deliberation and amongst the the commanders of the Infernalis and those Fiends that would speak a solution was reached. A vanguard of only a 50 half Infernalis and half Fiends would head East to the coast and what ever lay on it. The remaining 450 would continue onto the elves and what awaited them there.

Into the West

While Beta and Delta split off from the main incursion force leaving it at a 1000 combined strength what was now named Alpha proceed into the west. They would cross the land bridge connecting Anval to Galvastia and likely then begin losing some of their number as groups split off to begin their work throughout the lands.

Scouts that had been sent ahead of the force had spotted three targets in which to attck humanity of this world. The closest target was one Iskar-ven himself had seen and looked upon. From the reports though it had begun to dramaticly. Its walls stood tall and proud while the ciy within was flourishing. A target of great challenge but high cost.

The second closest target lay north and only barely farther but it to posed compications. The stench of a godling was around it, one that Iskar-ven know nothing on but perhaps the words of Artoran. Its strong defenses would prove just as much as challenge as the city to the south. But with it being bolstered by a god of unknown capibilites the target was deemed acceptable for other tasks.

Last of the large human cities was one in the northwest and furtherest away. The prospects looked good and the population in need of large dose of strife and terror. The scouts had discovered its name to be Klein from passing peasents on the roads. Klein was a good name for their attack on humanity even if Artoran wanted a different target.

With target locked and orders given incursion force Alpha began its move to Klein and the hell that would be unleashed upon it. along the way fiends and a few Infernalis groups broke off to begin sowing the seeds of terror and the bite of strife into the country sides where ever life was. As well as the shard f incursion force Delta told were the Ooze crabs were now living.

As they passed Aleru's little beacon of humanity Iskar-ven drew off another shard and 50 Infernalis to go see if new infomartion could be gleamed from this first contact.

By the time incursion force Alpha reached Klein it was down to 750 combined strength of Infernalis and Fiends with Iskar-ven leading the way.

[Toxic Mind]

Wayfinder and the Fiend

Riloaf had been walking for weeks. Many Wayfinders used portal magic now, but Riloaf found his Purpose often best served when he walked places, allowing Luck to place where he was needed in front of him. So it was that on the day Riloaf would become Dragon-Chosen again, he would spill the first Fiend blood on this world.

It was a human caravan, just as it always was, but this time, instead of bandits or Skizzik or Toraq, Riloaf saw them being menaced by a large red muscular creature with horns and fangs, and claws as long as his forearm. Well... menaced is the wrong word, as by the time Riloaf arrived, the Fiend had already slaughtered the caravan, and currently had one of the guards impaled on his right claw. For Riloaf, this was enough evidence. Toraq could often be reasoned with, Skizzik could be frightened, but this monster was like a Red Beast, a savage, and for the betterment of all, Riloaf would put it down. "Turn, and face death, monster!" Riloaf shouts, and the Fiend turns, throwing the guard's body to the ground with a sickeningly wet thud.

[Eshkigal]

Mekhet
The Un-GOd screams in pure, unadulterated pain as light burns it away, burns the outer beast from Beyond to ash, the things within stripped of rank and power, before a small, twisted yet human soul kneels before you both, weeping bitter tears just before Artoran's axe leaves it but a smear on the ground. Together, Sideshne, Kereth, and Artoran proceed to route the plague within Mekhet, even as the fissure finally seals.

(Apocalypse over!)

Maruk
Unfortunately for the fiends, the Maruk had taken interest in Klein, possibly because no one else seemed to. People had screamed and fled in the beginning days, before it reached out far over the ocean and gave them a few whales, and saved a ship too far out at sea due to its wanderings (well, the people at least. The ship itself got crushed a bit too much from suddenly being portal dropped ten feet). The ooze dragon that has nested upon its head just sighs, patting the giant consolingly after.

At least portal flying was fun.

Spoiler: Meeting of Unknown Kinsmen

Show

Near Mount Halcua

A young Ut'Gal, exploring to find some inspiration for a new song, sees the disturbance caused this chaotic act and wanders over to where these tiny white creatures are digging. How strange to find creatures so nearly the physical opposite of the Ut'Gal.

"What are you?"

The small lizard folk yip and scurry as they encounter the Ut'Gal, falling back until they are behind or under rocks, stones, and bushes. The only one unable to find cover blinks rapidly in the light, having trouble seeing and back against a tree as it stammers out a sentence.
"W...we are new! We are young! Too young to know yet!"
Nearby, there is a shard of what seems to be a gear. The curious Ut'Gal touches it, and falls back as red arcs of light jab into the youth's hand, binding through it to the rest of his kin and far beyond into all the mortal races as a shard of blue blazes near the kobolds through the light blind one, making shards of masks with strange glass where the eyes normally are. They are strapped on instinctively as the kobolds find them, blocking the sun from their fragile eyes as knowledge burns in their brains now.

Spoiler: AP Expenditure

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AP: 3/15, PAP 1
Advanced Concept - 2 AP. Advanced Architecture. Masonry has been advanced to what normally happens in Dwarven and Elven construction in movies, so I expect you guys to get fancy. OPEN TO ALL RACES
Mundane Concept - 1 AP. Mining. Kobolds are built to mine, and the masks that bestowed that knowledge to the first kobolds reminds them of that. More later.

[Dracio]

The Wayfinder and the Fiend

The Fiend lets the caravan guards body slowly slide down his claws before throwing it to the ground just to spite the Wayfinder before him. "You hass little fearss mortal, perhapss we sshould correct thiss overssight yess. Why do you bother me during my mealss. Go run offss and I sshall let you leavess with your life."

The Fiend just begins to cackle at the Wayfinder a fang filled grin stretching it's features. Despite this though it is moving into a defensive stance to protect its prize of the dead guard.

[Toxic Mind]

The Siege of Klein - Keth, Ioal, and Daveth

When the Maruk came to rest neat Klein, the people panicked. A giant crab the size of a continent is not an easy thing for any human to deal with. For Reapers, however, it was old hat. They had seen the Dream Maruk, swam with the Merfolk souls near this one, and when the Continent Crab came to Klein, a few seeming humans just went about their business as normal.

Which leads us to the question. Why were Reapers in Klein? Why did they care? The answer is relatively simple. Reapers themselves cared nothing about Klein any more than any other city in existence, and even less if everyone died tomorrow within the walls. It would just mean a slightly busier day, maybe a few more revenants to put down than normal. But Kereth cared, because Klein was Mobius' city, and Kereth cared for his adopted nephew, wherever he was. And Kereth dispatched Reapers to watch over the city, to walk among the humans, but always to be separate, to guard them unseen. And in charge of these Reapers he placed Keth, as the first and wisest Reaper, he was the natural choice. Among the forces too were Ioal and her unorthadox apprentice, Daveth, and many more Hunter Corps members.

If it seemed like Keth did a whole lot with no appreciation, let me assure you this is far from the case. You see, Keth is about to get a promotion, the first real promotion that Kereth has ever given out. He calls Keth to him in the Fields, and they walk for a time, as they once did. "Keth" Kereth says, his voice grave "You have always been my most trusted friend, my firstborn son on this world. Now you defend the city of my nephew, though I know you would prefer to do else with your life." Keth opens his mouth to deny this, but Kereth holds up a hand to stop him. "It is no fault of yours, and you are blameless in it. But I have need of a strong hand, one who can guide both Wayfinder and Reaper. Keth, you are that hand." Keth kneels before his father. "My lord it is too much. I do not serve for accolades and titles, but because I am yours." Kereth beams at his firstborn. "And that is why it must be you. You will be my Reaper Primarch, and under your command will be every Reaper and Hunter in existence. You will guide them, even as I guide you, and they in turn will guide the mortals, and the Wayfinders. You are one of them, yet above them, and your power will not be matched by anything less than a god."

Kereth reaches into the Lantern, and the Light crystalizes, a pure physical manifestation of Kereth's power. He cracks off a shard, and the Fields themselves shake, though the shard is so small as to barely be perceived. He presses it to Keth's forehead, and in that moment, Keth's eyes glow with pure Light, and his Lantern subtly changes within him, growing to become something more akin to a god than a Reaper, though his form remained unchanged. Keth stands, and he can feel within him the strength to shape the Path itself. And more, he can feel Kereth within his mind. "Now you will never wonder, for we shall always be linked. Return to the mortal world. Klein is in need of your aid. Know that I watch over you all."

Spoiler: AP Actions

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Create Hero (Exarch): Reaper Primarch Keth il'Kereth - Firstborn of both Wayfinder and Reaper, Keth is the most pwoerful and wise of all the Reapers. He is a manifestation of Kereth's will, and commands the entire host of Reapers and the Hunter Corps as he sees fit. His mind is forever linked to Kereth's, and his power is beyond the ken of even the other Reapers.

[Arcran]

Chasing the Light

Spoiler: Big Bird!

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The World Tree
Within Galvastian Borders

As Ien's tribe began mopping up, revenants, as they tend to always do, begin to rise. Some Toraq had died in a rather surprising trap someone had thought (truthfully, just some bad luck with rather large support beam holes that they had covered for the moment) before being nailed to a tree a few yards away from where they had been, thrown from their horses and having necks broken by the impact. But as they rise, something glints in the distance. Ien draws and shoots, only to have his arrow, his blood, shatter against the immense, radiant face of a bird larger than any he had seen before, taller than him mounted. The bird's face looked like a picked away skeleton, skull gleaming in the fires as it flew closer on a body that looked dessicated from hunger, but still showed a strength not even the mighty Toraq could meet, a long, lashing rat tail that could cleave a tree behind that. His jaw drops as he stares at the beast, flying past him like all he had done was brush it with a leaf, before breathing a cloud of putrescent, vile green gas that spreads through the suddenly wary Toraq before reaching the first Eternal Warrior. Upon contact, the revenant's flesh putrefied in seconds, becoming a puddle of greenish sludge and bleached bone as the Great Bird landed before it. What was left was devoured as the gas began spreading through the town, catching up to even the Toraq's horses but leaving man and beast untouched, save for the dead, moving and unmovig alike, each devoured like the first. Once all revenants and corpses were gone down its gullet, it ignores the other Toraq as it spreads its wings, taking off for parts unknown.

The Toraq, despite being appalled by the great creature, quickly mount their horses, ignoring what was left of their loot to chase after the great beast. Even from horseback most of their arrows find their mark, only to shatter against the hide of the great bird.

Finally, when the mounts and riders are exhausted Ien calls for a stop and begins to return to the camp. Normally he would chase the beast to the ends of the earth, but today was different.

For today his mate would have a child.

The Mountain

Spoiler: Faines

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The Shrine

The shrine is a simple affair, a free standing building carved out of the rock of the mountain. Within the shrine, there is a small pillar, where sits what appears to be an old man, wearing a red blanket wrapped around himself.

"Welcome to Mount Halcua. So, you come here to claim this place for your god, correct? Are you sure that would be wise? There are other gods in the world. This shrine and the temple up at the peak show that clearly. But you came here to prove your worth yes? So, come, Hild and Ank, give me your hand."

The old man stretches out his withered hands, waiting for their decision.

Of the two, Ank is far less reluctant to take the man's hand, possessed of that trusting innocence of a child.

Hild, on the other hand, was far more cautious. They had seen no humans for days, much less an elderly one. The Toraq were not stupid and everything about this screamed that it was wrong, yet Hild steps forward, taking the hand of the man.

"We do what we must for the glory of the Blood-Father."

Evil Saves the Day

Spoiler: End of the End of the World

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Mekhet
The Un-GOd screams in pure, unadulterated pain as light burns it away, burns the outer beast from Beyond to ash, the things within stripped of rank and power, before a small, twisted yet human soul kneels before you both, weeping bitter tears just before Artoran's axe leaves it but a smear on the ground. Together, Sideshne, Kereth, and Artoran proceed to route the plague within Mekhet, even as the fissure finally seals.

(Apocalypse over!)

Artoran leans heavily on his axe, laughing, the sound coming out as a low, chortling wheeze.

"Some fight, eh Kereth?" he muses, a lopsided grin becoming plastered on his face, his wounds knitting together slowly. "As much as I'd love to make small talk, I have bigger things to attend to," he says, giving Mekhet a quick salute of his axe as he walks away, returning to the Void. Upon arriving, he looks out, searching for his father.

"Aetherys! I need you!"

[ThePhantom]

Spoiler: The Test

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The Mountain

Of the two, Ank is far less reluctant to take the man's hand, possessed of that trusting innocence of a child.

Hild, on the other hand, was far more cautious. They had seen no humans for days, much less an elderly one. The Toraq were not stupid and everything about this screamed that it was wrong, yet Hild steps forward, taking the hand of the man.

"We do what we must for the glory of the Blood-Father."

"It is good that you have respect for him. My Father deserves respect."

And so Faines searches the minds of Hild and Ank, seeing all that they had done in their lives, seeing the richness of their spirits. The child has much possible futures, and there are those that suit Faines very well. The father is much more set in his ways, having lived his life following Faines' father's path. However, that is possible to change, especially here, nearly at the heart of Faines power. And so, Faines judges that this group shall live, to bear the new gift he has for the world, one that will give him so much in return.

Faines releases the hands of Ank and Hild, having returned to his true form. He stands up, his scarves flow to encircle eleven of the Toraq in the shrine, only the child remains unclaimed by the god of flames. "I am Faines, divine son of Artoran. In return for your lives, and for the gift I will give you, you shall serve me foremost from this day, through you shall still serve my father. Now, here is my gift to you, the gift of healing."

To each of the encircled Toraq, Faines wills a feather from his Firebird into them, bonding with them a spiritual level. From this feather of an immortal creature comes a fire and a song, one that will purge away sickness and sear wounds close, restoring the fires of live to those who they chose to aid. This fire burns in their souls, echoing in their ears, constantly wanting to be unleashed into the world. The scarves pull away as Faines finishes this task.

"Now tell me, children of blood and fire, how do you feel?"

Spoiler: AP Actions

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Create Magical Concept: Healing 3AP: This art allows those blessed with it to provide magical healing, done in the form of either a musical ritual, or physical contract to burn the wound or sickness away. Details pending. Private concept for now.
Gain Domain AP 3 Magic(Healing)
Form Organization/Society AP2 The Healers of Halcua. This group is that of the Toraq who came to Mount Halcua and received the first healing magic from Faines. While they still have the aggressive nature of the toraq, it has been refocused on performing healing, one of these healers will fight to be allowed to heal someone, then heal the ones they damaged to do so. This means they still love a good fight, they'll just fix everyone up afterwards.
Ending AP 4, +2 Pantheon AP

Spoiler: Meeting of opposites

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Mekhet

Spoiler: Meeting of Unknown Kinsmen

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The small lizard folk yip and scurry as they encounter the Ut'Gal, falling back until they are behind or under rocks, stones, and bushes. The only one unable to find cover blinks rapidly in the light, having trouble seeing and back against a tree as it stammers out a sentence.
"W...we are new! We are young! Too young to know yet!"
Nearby, there is a shard of what seems to be a gear. The curious Ut'Gal touches it, and falls back as red arcs of light jab into the youth's hand, binding through it to the rest of his kin and far beyond into all the mortal races as a shard of blue blazes near the kobolds through the light blind one, making shards of masks with strange glass where the eyes normally are. They are strapped on instinctively as the kobolds find them, blocking the sun from their fragile eyes as knowledge burns in their brains now.

Spoiler: AP Expenditure

Show

AP: 3/15, PAP 1
Advanced Concept - 2 AP. Advanced Architecture. Masonry has been advanced to what normally happens in Dwarven and Elven construction in movies, so I expect you guys to get fancy. OPEN TO ALL RACES
Mundane Concept - 1 AP. Mining. Kobolds are built to mine, and the masks that bestowed that knowledge to the first kobolds reminds them of that. More later.

The young Ut'Gal blinks as the knowledge enters his brain and passes into the world. He picks himself up, gently shaking his head. There is so much that he could do now, new ways to making their homes, new ways to beautify the temple.

"You, you give me a gift. I shall call you, friends. Now friends, how I can help you?"

[Shmee]

The Arena

By now the sands of the arena is slick with blood and gore as the remaining survivors battle it out and the crowd continue to go wild at the spetacle of ages. All of a sudden the sound of marching feet can be heard as hundreds of Elves, with the finest armor that money can buy and armed to the teeth. They are the Elven Judicators who are tasked to keep order within the lands claimed by the Elves. The Judicators act as judge, jury and executioners on the spot and mercy is a foreign concept. Elves who wish to join the Judicators have to abandon all rights and claims to their family and Houses as the Brotherhood becomes their new House. They are then submitted to years of harsh training and conditioning to ensure the dedication to the notion of "Elven Peace", which is to brutally suppress those who would dare oppose the peace regardless of the cost. The Judicators must then make an unholy oath to Kar'Vode'an and survive the secretive rights of passage before being accepted fully into the Brotherhood and emerge as a knight most foul with fiendish cruelty. They all wear a featureless mask, similar to that of Kar'Vode'an to ensure that all Judicators are equal amongst one another and are hated and feared by all Elves, as they have few restrictions barring them from completing their task.

And such was a case, as hundreds of Judictors spill into the arena and begin to subdue the remaining survivors of the massacre. Even the Ermarks know that if they try to resist, then the Judicators will continue to attack wave after wave until they are executed. Having cleared the arena, all that remains is the dying dragon. From her place Kar'Vode'an indicates a thumb to her throat, and the Judicators are quick in executing the black dragon who had failed their Queen. Naturally the crowd goes wild as the final blow is given.

Later, at the Palace of Radiance, the surviving Arbiters, Ermark and Skizziks are brought to the presence of Kar'Vode'an. "Your blood letting has pleased the Elven people, and so have pleased me. I shall grant you one boon each. Think very carefully of what you desire."

Spoiler: AP Expenditure

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AP6=8-2: Create Orgainzation: The Elven Judicators
AP4=6-2: Create Advanced Concept: Pax Elfanica, the set of laws to ensure the peace of all who live within the land claimed by the Elves.

[Umbranar]

The Arbiters at Kar'Vode'an

At this time both Arbiters are back on their feet although still injured and weakened. They both kneel before Kar'Vode'an and reply as one: "Our only wish is to serve law and order and so we request to serve as judges and protectors of Elven laws. This is the reason of our creation by Rhanor the Eternal Judge and the very reason we came to this city."

[Xunthrae]

The larithians, for the most part, did not take part in the melee that ensued in the area. Many fled the combat, back to the safety of their humid rooms and the sea cave. One larithian never went to the Arena. He was much to busy swimming the seas with a merfolk he had come across on the blessed Reef. He knew he should report his finding of other people in the sea to the outpost captain, but he couldn't bring himself to. Something about this female enticed him.

Her name was Nimara. The longer he spent with her, the longer she became his whole world. She would sing to him, and her voice captivated him. They would swim with pods of whales and race dolphins. She slowly became everything to him. Even more so than his Goddess after several months of spending his days with her. She was the most beautiful thing next to Kar'Vode'an.

Nimara was not as consumed with her plaything as he was with her. She had learned the transmutation magic of the central seas before leaving her people behind. There was little opportunity to advance in their society. People did what they were good at, or what their parents did. She wanted more. She wanted to climb the ranks and that just wasn't possible with her home in the central sea. So she left, and swam along the coast, using her magic to confused and lure surface men into giving her things. She always felt a flutter in her chest whenever she got something new, or her toy did something for her.

Now that he is fully in her grasp she brings him back to her sea cave near a chain of hundreds of islands to the east of the Vrykin lands, above the continent of Malgor. Once there he is led through the cave into a deep atoll, at the bottom of which a large underwater castle lies. Her own personal sanctum, and for the other mermaids she picked up along the way. They are gifted enchantresses and have given themselves the name of Siren.

In this castle the thralls of the women wait hand and foot and fin on the Sirens. Among the thralls are humans, force ably given gills to serve in their home. Some are brought to the island and then left on the surface to protect them from above, those few are allowed use of their lungs and gills, but are still as controlled as the ones denied that gift.

The Larithian is a first for the women. The ten others fawn over Nimara's catch. None had seen as exquisite a man as the elf. They kept him safe on land and hidden on their most protected beach, a place they like to sun-bathe.

Spoiler: Actions

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6AP+4AP=10AP/2PAP

Create Sub-race: -2AP Sirens, an offshoot of Merfolk, who tend to be restless in merfolk society and congregate together in shoals which lure men and occasionally women into a bliss-like state and make them serve the group, with small groups of servants designated for each member. To lure their prey into their clutches, they use their innate enchanting magic. These merfolk do not have the minor telekinesis or the heated water blasts of their relatives, they instead can alter how they are perceived in many small ways to make them seem nearly irresistible, and combined with their song, many find them so. A Siren's song is a powerful magic which takes years for a Siren to develop and learn to control.

Many older Sirens scout out young ones in merfolk societies and bring them to their homes on the island chain or in other remote places where they can live in their own peace. Male Sirens are very rare and are highly prized by a shoal, and so they are fiercely guarded and controlled, since the only way to ensure a Siren being born is to have two mate. Sirens often steal from other groups to maintain their luxurious lifestyle, using their thralls to usually do it for them while one or two Sirens lead the raiding party.

A pureborn Siren also looks moderately different than one born from merfolk society, Pureborn look more like a cross between a surface creature and a sea creature, not necessarily a finned creature, varying from sea-horse, octopus, dolphin, and sometimes simple fish.
( See generic mermaids and other lower-body fish hybrid. )

Create Land: -2PAP (the island chain)

8/15AP/0/2PAP

Spoiler: The castle

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[Toxic Mind]

The Wayfinders Find Building Things to be Nice

When the flash of insight hit again, The Wayfinders went to work. Long had they desired to find a place where they could guide others, keep the other races safe, without being present. And so, across the world, Wayfinder Shrines took form. With Ooze and ready hands, The Wayfinders shaped places across the land where any traveller could find rest peacefully, no matter how dangerous the land around them. Violence of any kind was forbidden in the shrines, and Aleruan and Toraq could stand in the same shrine without once raising a Weapon to one another. War could plague a land, but still within the Shrines, a refugee could find safety. Each shrine was only ever a day apart, and they existed in the strangest of locales sometimes to satisfy this. Even the deserts of the Elves and the myriad lands of the Malgor saw shrines dot the landscape. Even more odd were the shrines that appeared on Islands, and Underwater, a day's swim apart for Merfolk. No one knew how they got there, and if you asked the Merfolk, the shrine just showed up (Reapers Built Them).

Kereth extended a blessing across these Shrines, so that Divine Will would enforce their rules. Violence was not discouraged, it did not exist within the small space of the shrines. Guidance from Kereth could easily be found in these Shrines, and it was known that dreams from The Guide often happened within the Shrine, warning of future danger or great profit, or simply reassuring one of their course. No Keeper was needed to enforce these rules, though Kereth thought to himself that one might be nice to have food and other things ready for travellers, though that was a project for another day.

Spoiler: AP Actions

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1AP: Bless - Wayfinder Shrines: These buildings are watched over by Kereth's divine power, and within them, no violence can be done, and enemies can rest together in peace a safety. This blessing only applies to the shrines, and once one leaves them, the blessing does not follow. In addition, Kereth's presence can be more heavily felt within these Shrines, and those looking for Guidance from the god would do well to sojourn there.

[ThePhantom]

The Void of Worlds

As Artoran yells out for his father, someone who calls Artoran that title appears in this void.

"Honestly Father, all that yelling of yours. I thought you would have settled things already based on how long you been doing that."

Faines walks towards his father, scarves moving in a pattern that shows mild annoyance. He stops before Artoran, still a bit shorter than the other god.

"So, what are you planning on asking him?"

[Eshkigal]

Mt. Halcua
The kobold yips, looking about and able to see with the flat mask against its flat snout.
"We...we could use clothes. The light burns us harshly, eye and skin. We seek cover inge to protect ourselves with, caves to clear and expand, make our own homes."
The Ut'Gal nods and looks around. Spotting a grand beast far off, fangs and teeth wrapped around a three horned monster, it nods and up roots a nearby tree with ease. And then it chucks the large tree as hard as it can into the hunting monster's skull.

A short fight and a bit of work tanning the hide after, the little lizards are covered in crude yet effective garb, masks the only visible part.

[Arcran]

The Toraq of Ut'Gal

Spoiler: New Toraq

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"It is good that you have respect for him. My Father deserves respect."

And so Faines searches the minds of Hild and Ank, seeing all that they had done in their lives, seeing the richness of their spirits. The child has much possible futures, and there are those that suit Faines very well. The father is much more set in his ways, having lived his life following Faines' father's path. However, that is possible to change, especially here, nearly at the heart of Faines power. And so, Faines judges that this group shall live, to bear the new gift he has for the world, one that will give him so much in return.

Faines releases the hands of Ank and Hild, having returned to his true form. He stands up, his scarves flow to encircle each of the twelve Toraq in the shrine. "I am Faines, divine son of Artoran. In return for your lives, and for the gift I will give you, you shall serve me foremost from this day, through you shall still serve my father. Now, here is my gift to you, the gift of healing."

To each of the encircled Toraq, Faines wills a feather from his Firebird into them, bonding with them a spiritual level. From this feather of an immortal creature comes a fire and a song, one that will purge away sickness and sear wounds close, restoring the fires of live to those who they chose to aid. This fire burns in their souls, echoing in their ears, constantly wanting to be unleashed into the world. The scarves pull away as Faines finishes this task.

"Now tell me, children of blood and fire, how do you feel?"

Spoiler: AP Actions

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Create Magical Concept: Healing 3AP: This art allows those blessed with it to provide magical healing, done in the form of either a musical ritual, or physical contract to burn the wound or sickness away. Private concept for now.
Gain Domain AP 3 Magic(Healing)
Form Organization/Society AP2 The Healers of Halcua. This group is that of the Toraq who came to Mount Halcua and received the first healing magic from Faines. While they still have the aggressive nature of the toraq, it has been refocused on performing healing, one of these healers will fight to be allowed to heal someone, then heal the ones they damaged to do so. This means they still love a good fight, they'll just fix everyone up afterwards.
Ending AP 4, +2 Pantheon AP

The eleven look among themselves, feeling the flames of healing flickering inside each and every one of them. One touches his shoulder, watching as the flames fly against it. He winces, expecting great heat but instead feels a soft, warming sensation and watches in amazement as the wound literally sews itself back together.

Hild looks at the god before him, slowly lowering himself to his knees.

"We feel strong, Lord of Flames," he says, low before his lord. "We thank you for our lives, and for your gift. We shall be yours, as will all those that learn your art."

The others slowly repeat the statement, with slight variations, but the message remains the same.

All except Ank. he stands tall, no inner fire within him. He pats the head of his hammertail friend, watching the others lower themselves with wide eyes. Toraq did not bow, even a child knew that, yet here it was occurring before him.

The Void

Spoiler: Father and Son

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The Void of Worlds

As Artoran yells out for his father, someone who calls Artoran that title appears in this void.

"Honestly Father, all that yelling of yours. I thought you would have settled things already based on how long you been doing that."

Faines walks towards his father, scarves moving in a pattern that shows mild annoyance. He stops before Artoran, still a bit shorter than the other god.

"So, what are you planning on asking him?"

"How else do you get the attention of a god!" Artoran says, grinning as his son appears, clapping him on the back with a meaty arm.

"I need the Father of Beasts for a gift I am planning. One that will make the Toraq the greatest power on the world, stronger than even those skinny elves that whisper my name. I need his cunning, his beasts and his brutality, but it seems he isn't coming," Artoran mutters, still frowning. Aetherys had been absent for far too long for his comfort. He was his greatest ally against Aleru; what would he do should she come en force once more?

[Eldamar]

As Artoran and Kereth finish destroying the void beasts, Mirmulnir’s attention is drawn to a group of souls arriving in the Ethereal to take the final trek towards the Soul Fields. A new form of elf and a host of skizziks that had passed on were quarreling (and some boasting) about the Battle of the Arena, but the most interesting tale for Mirmulnir’s ear was this new dragon that had slew so many. The armored god strode towards them, appearing in an instant behind the group to escort them to the Fields, listening quite intently of their ruminations of their final moments.

The ooze dragons were a mindless burden upon the material, no doubt. Slag from Yoo’s flight that leave naught but destruction in their wake and taint the lifeblood of the land. Mirmulnir had the collected memories of countless victims, and this new breed was no different, if not worse. Beings of great power and potential squandered first by a lack of vision, then by hedonistic vanity. As the Locathah, Mirmulnir would uplift these beasts, but first he needed the original stock.

With his scattered fragments reunited, Mirmulnir leaves the Ethereal, disappearing into the singularity once more and taking form upon a field in the material, not far from the legendary first clashing of the gods. The stink of scorched flesh and burning trees was in the air, billowing clouds of black smoke rising from what must have been a village nearby. Fading into a bout of smoke, a raven flies away soaring higher until the horizons begin to curve. The pillaging of human towns and villages by these infernal creatures, the likes of witch Mirmulnir had no memory of, were more than adequate to spike his curiosity. Three feathers fell from his wings and tail, growing into ravens themselves that flew off to watch this army’s march across the land.

The original, however, turns towards a great lake miles off near the horizon, for ooze dragons cannot resist fresh water, and such a grand source would attract many. His final descent above the half-oozed lake was at twilight. Five great ooze dragons scattered along the Northeast, north, and northwestern shores would suffice for his plans. The God-In-Raven-Form grows as it approaches the nearest ooze dragon, larger and larger until it scoops the beast up whole and swallows it. So goes the next, and another, and the fourth and the last. The insides of this God-Raven were black as the void, and churning in its gullet the mass of intermingled ooze changes. Strings from in the black-green ooze, condensing and mingling with the dissolved bones of victims to from a skeleton. Pockets take form and begin to convulse as the organs take shape. Ooze begets flesh, flesh begets solidity. As the great bird descends upon the field were the gods fought and bled, it excretes these changed wyrms.

Spoiler: OOC - Appearance

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Like this generally, but minus the spikes on the back.

Five white dragons are birthed from the Raven, asleep wherein they glimpse dreams of Yoo and her realm of ooze, for their souls are still of the Ooze. Laying in a circle on the field, slumbering with Mirmulnir (now returned to his first form) standing in the middle. The night field is quiet, and as the sun sets, Mirmulnir visits each and places a hand against their foreheads. With the art he first used on the Locathah, he reaches into the dragon’s very soul and molds it. No other creature before or after will be molded in his image like the souls of the Five.

Mirmulnir gifted them with knowledge, an understanding of the cosmos unlike any mortal being yet. Visions of the Web, and the paths it opened between realms. The secrets he has gleamed of magic is theirs, changing of a being’s very nature and command of the dead are only the beginning. But the mortal taint was not forgotten, and to each he gave the breath of fire that will wholly incinerate mortal flesh and remove the taint inscribed upon it.

As the last is changed, and Mirmulnir takes a seat, their eyes open. Dreaming, they were physically alike in every way, but as their lids rise, their eyes are all different. Silver, red, green, blue, and purple. Each raises its long neck and stretches for the first time. Silver, which lays facing Mirmulnir’s empty hood, stares silently at its creator. Red inhales the acrid air and turns towards the faint glow of fire raging in the distant forest. Green rests its head against the earth, tongue flicking the grass tickling its chin. Blue and Purple, sitting beside each other behind Mir, gaze up at the stares. They sit there, quietly for a time, until all Five are staring at Mirmulnir.

“You awaken. Tell me your names.”

Red is the first to speak, “Kiirazek”

Green tilts her head to speak, “Kynrethaaz.”

Blue and Purple speak in turn, “Nazthiiros and Ziilthuras.”

Silver, still staring into Mirmulnir’s hood whispers, “Azrathuul.”

“Beautiful, powerful, and terrible names to be heard. My Progenitor bid me with a single task, and set me free to follow mine own will. I shall do the same. To the East, there is an isthmus separating two great continents. Two will be needed to build a Fortress-Wall. The other three, I ask you follow this army and observe them from afar.”

As Mirmulnir grows silent, Nazthiiros the Blue and Ziilthuras the Violet stand together and volunteer for the mission east. The Keeper of Memories gives the pair a deep bow, arms sweeping wide in a grand gesture. Two more ravens part from his hood, one for each, and fly off towards the Isthmus of Anval. As the two great wyrms take flight for the first time, silver wings spread wide, glinting starlight and moonlight. With running leaps, they leave the earth and soar eastward towards the dawn. The remaining three are soon reunited with the first ravens to split from Mirmulnir; Kiirazek the Red is bristling with anticipation, muscles tensed as it races off towards the smoldering village, Kynrethaaz the Green lingers in its place before forcing herself to stand and trail off behind Kiirazek, Azrathuul bows deeply before Mirmulnir, chin touching his metal boots before rising and following the main host.

Following his newest creations with winged fragments, the Mirmulnir standing in the field disappears into a singularity.

Spoiler: AP Expenditure

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Starting AP: 12
4 AP Create Fabled Life: Dragons - The Five, first of this new breed of white dragons. Azrathuul the Silver, Kiirazek the Red, Kynrethaaz the Green, Ziilthuras the Violet, and Nazthiiros the Blue. This new breed are neither male nor female, but change back and forth. Their hides are resilient, and can withstand fire, acidic ooze, and most physical attacks (but are far from immune from injury). Prideful because of their knowledge, and greedy for more. They do not age, but are not physically immortal. Their minds are more likely to fail than their bodies if uninjured, and because of this agelessness, they will almost always become revenant when finally killed.
End AP: 8

[ThePhantom]

The Toraq of Ut'Gal

Spoiler: New Toraq

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The eleven look among themselves, feeling the flames of healing flickering inside each and every one of them. One touches his shoulder, watching as the flames fly against it. He winces, expecting great heat but instead feels a soft, warming sensation and watches in amazement as the wound literally sews itself back together.

Hild looks at the god before him, slowly lowering himself to his knees.

"We feel strong, Lord of Flames," he says, low before his lord. "We thank you for our lives, and for your gift. We shall be yours, as will all those that learn your art."

The others slowly repeat the statement, with slight variations, but the message remains the same.

All except Ank. he stands tall, no inner fire within him. He pats the head of his hammertail friend, watching the others lower themselves with wide eyes. Toraq did not bow, even a child knew that, yet here it was occurring before him.

Faines' scarves reach down and raise the kneeling Toraq, while the god looks at Ank. He smiles at the giving of themselves that these Toraq, the healers of Halcua, have done.

"My father has plans for you, child. Greatness is in your future. Now, we shall go see the rest of your tribe. I have your new home to arrange."

And with a twist of his scarves, Faines teleports the whole group back down the mountain.

The Void

Spoiler: Father and Son

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"How else do you get the attention of a god!" Artoran says, grinning as his son appears, clapping him on the back with a meaty arm.

"I need the Father of Beasts for a gift I am planning. One that will make the Toraq the greatest power on the world, stronger than even those skinny elves that whisper my name. I need his cunning, his beasts and his brutality, but it seems he isn't coming," Artoran mutters, still frowning. Aetherys had been absent for far too long for his comfort. He was his greatest ally against Aleru; what would he do should she come en force once more?

Faines shakes his head when Artoran puts his arm on his back, but his scarves give Artoran a quick hug.

"He has his own continent to manage. But surely you can tell your plan to your firstborn divine son? Its possible that I can help out."

[Arcran]

The Toraq Tribe

Spoiler: Whoosh!

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Faines' scarves reach down and raise the kneeling Toraq, while the god looks at Ank. He smiles at the giving of themselves that these Toraq, the healers of Halcua, have done.

"My father has plans for you, child. Greatness is in your future. Now, we shall go see the rest of your tribe. I have your new home to arrange."

And with a twist of his scarves, Faines teleports the whole group back down the mountain.

As the tribe reaches the base of the mountain in a whirl of flames Hild slowly looks around, looking at his injured tribe. With a nod the Halcua Healers begin to do their work, going from person to person, healing the minor aches and pains that have plagued them for all their travels.

The others look on in awe, watching the flames quite literally burn away their pain and weakness. One makes a move to attack, claiming sorcery, but Hind quickly calms the man.

The Toraq were now alone with the Ut'Gal, the Toraq eying their foe with no small degree of caution. After all, they did not know if they were actually capable of killing them.

Spoiler: Note

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Will expand more on what happens in a bit. Need to make the Toraq a real thing and have a brief timeskip before I go into it.

The Void

Spoiler: Family Reunion!

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Faines shakes his head when Artoran puts his arm on his back, but his scarves give Artoran a quick hug.

"He has his own continent to manage. But surely you can tell your plan to your firstborn divine son? Its possible that I can help out."

Artoran grins wickedly, eager to share his plot with his firstborn son.

"Now, the Toraq are still dirtied with the blood of Aleru. It makes them weak, makes them slow, makes them far less than what they could be. I will give them a new birth, one of blood and fire, recreating them from the ground up. I'm on a bit of a schedule though; the first of the true Toraq will soon be born," Artoran says, frowning as he looks towards the Galvastian lands.

[Eshkigal]

A God's Recovery

Tree or Web of Planes
As the other gods finish, Mekhet's limbs begin to finally catch up. Fragments slow and ebb, before the broken shards begin grabbing each other, then onto the body. They are still leaking, but the loose materials are dragged to his peoples instead, and drawn easily to the works of other gods in the process of being made. So Chaos begins to mend...

Ethereal
Mekhet slowly stops thrashing, grabbing onto Kereth's robe's as he is about to depart, eyes still dim as he slowly gasps for breath.
"Th...thanks. But know...know I try to make it right. Accidents happen in my work. More than an...y other god. Didn't know there was a related god. Didn't know about bodies. Things try to rework themselves...and I can't see
..where they'll go. Oblivion is boring..."
It's eyes begin to recede back into the body, until a scant few are left. Too much work to do to be spread out...

[Toxic Mind]

Wayfinder and Fiend - The Battle

The fight was the second hardest of Riloaf's life. Wayfinders are never easy to kill, and Riloaf even less so, and still he almost lost his life that day against the Fiend. Had he not been the oldest and most powerful Wayfinder in existence, he would not have stood before the Fiend without hesitation. Had he not fought the Mad Dragon, and from it learned Ooze Bending beyond most mortal comprehension, he would have fallen before the beasts claws. As it went, he almost did anyways.

Riloaf knows there are beings in the world that hold the principle that an opponent should know when he is in a fight. Riloaf is not one of those. The Fiend opens its mouth to threaten, and Riloaf pounces. No one, no matter what existence they are from, expects to be attacked in the middle of speaking. Riolaf knows that Ooze is the only way for him to win, but he also knows that he will likely only get one good shot on this foe before it begins to see the Ooze as a threat. So Riloaf makes it count. Whipping a section of Ooze from the jar on his back, he throws it at the one place that every creature that has one is vulnerable, its face. Acid Ooze splashes into the Fiend's eyes and nose, and immediately begins burning. As the Fiend raises its hands to wipe away the acid, a second volley of Sticky Ooze splashes across the Fiend's face, making the ooze doubly hard to remove. Riloaf is on the Fiend, smashing into it with blows of his staff and spears of ooze. In its thrashing, the Fiend catches Riloaf with its tail, smashing him heavily into a nearby tree. By the time he rises, the Fiend has removed the Ooze, though its ruinous work is done. The eyes and nose of the Fiend are a ruined mess of flesh. Riloaf charges once more, but the Fiend lashes out with its claws, scoring Riloaf across the chest. As Riloaf circles, he realizes that while the Fiend cannot smell or see him, it can hear him just fine. Such a mistake almost cost him his life.

The wound on his chest burns like fire. He has been fighting for an hour now, and is no closer to defeating the beast than he was after his initial volley. The flow of offense and defense winds like a river, and Riloaf barely holds his own when the Fiend rushes him. He bleeds from cuts across his body, none fatal but all deep. He would have disengaged long ago and retreated to return more prepared, save for the crying of a child that could be heard from the caravan. Whatever his thoughts on humans, Riloaf could not abandon this young one to the depredations of the beast in front of him. Not while he drew breath. It was a mark of how taxing the fight was that Riloaf did not think of the idea that would win him the fight until now. If the beast could only using hearing, it meant that it could not differentiated between Riloaf and something else that sounded exactly like him. With the last of his ooze, Riloaf created an ooze clone, similar to the ones he and Ioal had used to fight the Mad Dragon. This one had a subtle difference, however. Instead of dream ooze, this close was made of acid ooze. A construct created to do one thing... be a living bomb. So the Riloaf clone rushes once more at the Fiend. As the Fiend swipes it with its claws, it bursts, showering the area with acid.

But the Fiend was too clever. In the instant before the clone burst, it had turned its body, perhaps alerted by the lack of resistance the clone had presented to its claws. The acid scoured the Fiend's back, eating away at flesh, but it did not die. As Riloaf stood, dumbfounded, the Fiend rushed him, bringing its other clawed hand up. The claws speared through Riloaf's shoulder, and the Fiend lifted him in the air, impaled on its claws, its breath fetid and hot in Riloaf's face. "Die Mortal" the fiend hisses. Riloaf closes his eyes, waiting for the death blow. Which never fell. Instead Riloaf drops heavily to the ground, and when he opens his eyes again, he sees a massive ooze dragon. Riloaf pulls the claws from his shoulder, but the hand ends just below the wrist. The rest of the Fiend currently lies in the stomach of the ooze dragon, being consumed by acid.

Riloaf falls heavily to his knees, his energy spent in its entirety. The great ooze dragon extends a tendril and touches Riloaf's forehead. "Rest, Mate of my Chosen. You are safe." Riloaf had found Allareth, which would have given him pleasure, had his world not already faded to black.

[Toxic Mind]

Spoiler: Forgiveness

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Ethereal
Mekhet slowly stops thrashing, grabbing onto Kereth's robe's as he is about to depart, eyes still dim as he slowly gasps for breath.
"Th...thanks. But know...know I try to make it right. Accidents happen in my work. More than an...y other god. Didn't know there was a related god. Didn't know about bodies. Things try to rework themselves...and I can't see
..where they'll go. Oblivion is boring..."
It's eyes begin to recede back into the body, until a scant few are left. Too much work to do to be spread out...

Kereth turns. "It is I who owe you an apology. I have done you a great wrong in my anger, and some day I will repay that debt. Heal, Mekhet. The world has need of you yet."