Lords of Creation in the Playground (IC)

[Shmee]

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Dawn of the Third Divine Month

[Lady Tialait]

Void, The Visionary

With the creation of the Artificer, and the Engines finding places in the world, the Visionary churns into operation. Expanding and moving it's boundaries, and influences. Dozens of new towers burst around the outer edges of the city with new factories churning into operation on mysterious projects. Black smoke rises from the city cocooning it. Around the edges the spewing waste creates a moat of toxic chemicals, that flow through the streets as black tar.

The few Nightmare Engines and First Engines that did not leave to the underplayground move through the streets and alleyways of the city stalking them. The Nightmare Engines waiting for subjects of their dark instincts inherited from the fantasy that is their namesakes. First Engines grabbing anything that isn't directly connected to the city and adding it to their own mass.

The Visionary, City of Wonders, Master of the Future, and True Lord of Artifice.

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5 + 5 (Rollover) - 3 Gain Domain (Artifice) - 2 Gain Portfolio (Invention) - 3 Create Plane (City of Wonders) = 2

City of Wonders - The City of Wonders is the Visionary's body, a mockery of Zalaram. Time moves according to the whims of any native creature. Any amount of time in the City of Wonders can be any time on the material plane, a hour spent in the City of Wonders can mean years or seconds have passed on the prime material plane. The City of Wonders is strongly Lawful aligned.

[Shmee]

The Playground

Thus did the cycle continue. The warmth gaze of Oussia dipped beneath the horizon, ushering Summer in the Underplayground, while the cold stare of Phos heralded Winter into the Playground once more.

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Use Artifact Charge: Oussia: Nourishment on the Underplayground with Summer
Use Artifact Charge: Phos: Pestilence on the Playground with Winter

[Phobia]

Hagatha's Spriggin - The Dark Grove Outer

The Dark Grove originally consisted of simply Hagatha's grove but it had expanded into a dense swamp that encapsulated many other Heart Tree groves. But these different Weirdwoods had remained disconnected until recently when they used Spriggins to speak to one another and bemoan their fates. Thus they became a loose association of acquaintances with similar interests.

The abomination before Cassandra must have looked like the living dead to her. A zombie dryad brown and dry but still full of expressions, a body puppet on a string in the form of that pulsing root coming out of her back growing and wiggling inside her. It was a quizzical expression of interest that graced the dead face now.

"Hello to you my sister. Have you come to play in my garden?" The Spriggin said but not in a voice that was like that of a dryad. It was a more rough, but still feminine voice, like trying to speak with bark vocal chords.

"Come join us and find out for yourself." Hagatha continued while using the Spriggin as a mouth-piece. A wicked smile spread across the once-dryads face.

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AP: 3

Rollover: 3

AP: 6

[mystic1110]

Halls of the Ornate Beast, Deimos, the Smiling Praetor

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Deimos and the Smiling Praetor - Halls of the Ornate Beast

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Deimos stood still his voice echoing through the minds of the Demons in a reciprocation of their method of speech. "Information, clarity." He said, unmoving. "I seek to know you, that I may understand you, that I may make my final decision." His eye shone ever so slightly brighter, taking in the sights of the gardens and chambers beyond. The God seemed unmoved by the appearances of the Demons, but he was good at masking his emotions. Below the surface, he churned, his mind racing with questions. "Who created you?" He asks, the first question of many. "What are you called?" He said, the second question. "What is your purpose?" He says, the third question, and the last one to be asked before pausing to allow the Demon to speak.

The demoness moves her feather crowned face to the side while her lower mouth opens gluttonously. . . the expression above was quizzical and confused - or as much of an expression as an expressionless mask could give - while the lower body seemed hungry.

Final Decision? Are we on trial?

The Demon spoke in her strange mental language, and made a tsk, that was translated to nails scratching the surface of a boyhood memory.

But you may know us - if that is what you wish. But all good things must have a price. And our price is that you enjoy a feast with us first. After all . . . you are our guest.

The Sleepless Citadel, Helfarch

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The Sea

"There." Without ceremony Helfarch plunged into the ocean. Ulric gasped as he entered the water, surely he'd drown. Something strange happens then, Ulric disappears.

Helfarch didn't seem bothered and swam hard, passing leagues in the span of a moment. Eventually he came to the Sleepless Citadel. Swimming inside, through the lightless waters as though he were born to it. Eventually, he found himself swimming upwards. Slanted floor beneath he swam up, higher and higher, until eventually he emerged from the water and found himself in a pocket of air within the Church. As he climbed still higher and his chest broke the surface Ulric reappears on the god's shoulder.

"... I'm not even going to ask."

Helfarch stood to his full measure just on the edge of the water and waited for the welcoming committee.

The welcoming committee as it were consisted of three priests. The God can't see anything about them except their robes and black face-masks. In fact if he was not a god he wouldn't see anything at all - since it was pitch black in the temple. Sightless and Silent.

The air pulses and the god and his bird hears a grating grinding whisper in her head.

Greetings. We are Priests of the Sleepless Citadel. I am Bishop Mirai. I am Father Mot. I am Inquisitor Carvatish. You are the first God aside from our Mother to grace our unworthy temple. I Honor you. I Honor you. I Honor you. We wish to know what is it you seek my Lord?

The vibrations in the God's skull happened all at once, making it hard for him to tell which of the demons was talking at any time - creating a weird mix of plural and singular voice that seemed specifically designed to drive him mad.

The bird, on the other hand. . . poor creature.

Dark Grove, Cassandra, the Peer, Hagatha's Spriggin

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Cassandra, the Peer - Dark Grove

For Cassandra it was not difficult to find the source of corruption. She needed only speak to the dryads and trees and ask them where they could no longer feel their kin. She led the Peer onward, speaking little unless it was required. And soon enough she found the edge of the grove, and her first Spriggan.

Cassandra looked in horror at the once-dryad. "Sister. Who has done this horror to you?" she says, shock evident on her face.

The Peer remains silent and merely observes the interaction with his sightless eyes. Here in the dark grove his vision was stranger, as the dreams of this place were more fractures as dreamers began to wake forevermore.

[Yeshon]

The Sleepless Citadel

Ulric's feathers ruffled at the sound of their voice. "Downright creepy huh boss?" He looked over, Helfarch wasn't there. "B-Boss?" He was atop the mountain again, atop the world. When he looked up, there was no sun. "BOSS!" A rumble was all the bird heard, before he was dragged deep beneath the surface of the world, to live in darkness. Never to see the sky, never to lift a wing, minutes became days, hours, years, days, an eternity. Ulric lost all perception of time until he no longer knew the beating of his own heart. After so many eternities, Ulric was convinced that the sky had been a dream, a beautiful, wonderful dream, but it was not real, none of it was ever real. This was all he had ever been. An immobile mind that had had dreamed once, never again, now all he had were his memories and the cruel comfort of existence.

Helfarch faced the three demons, Ulric stock still on his shoulder, prevented from speaking, moving, or seeing. The madness his friend was suffering broke Helfarch's heart, but it was a necessary evil. Helfarch needed Ulric to see what was beyond sanity, to discard such narrow perceptions. For Helfarch was born of true nightmares and if Ulric could not take this much, it'd be kinder to kill him now then force him to travel the god's path. Still, Helfarch sincerely hoped he'd be able to save his friend.

"I am Helfarch, the Pursuer, forged of the nightmares given to The Matron. This is Ulric, do not mind him he is simply... overwhelmed by the grandeur of this place. I come to speak on the behalf of mortals in regards to dreams."

He knew that such a lie as claiming Ulric was merely overwhelmed was pointless to the demons and doubtless they thought of Ulric as... desirable, but they would do well to be wary of a god's ire. Especially when that god had used so little power since his birth.

[mystic1110]

The Sleepless Citadel, Helfarch

The demons on their part don't seem to care about the bird's physical well being at all. After all the bird is just flesh and blood. What do those physical constructs matter to a demon. They deal with sanity and insanity. They deal with emotion and feelings. Not only deal with - they simply are.

But the bird's madness? It wafted in the air like a long forgotten and well remembered aroma. But then again, behind these demons where where worse nightmares were born. Nightmares in which the Nightmare Engines could find a home . . . or perhaps even break down into tears themselves. For nightmares are a ragged cut. There are a soul torn in two unequal halves and then made to fit together again. The halves grind away at the pieces . . . wearing everything down. . . there is no perfection in such a thing. To perfect would to make them more terrifying true. . . you could hone a blade after all. You can show the instruments of torture.

But a true nightmare scars the soul.

Regardless, the demons answer the God

Do not lie Lordling, it is beneath you. We have wandering Ecstasy Demons on Pilgrimage within our halls. Should I bid one to tend to your friend? To piece his mind back together with sweet dreams of flight? Freedom? Adventure? Purpose? Just ask, my Lord. You are a guest in a temple to the Gods. And you are a God. We are your priests. As for mortal dreams, speak and we shall listen. I will carve every word into my mind.

The plural and the singular meshed into one mental screech.

[Yeshon]

The Sleepless Citadel

Helfarch inclined his head, "My presumptions were clearly misplaced, but I must decline your kind offer, his madness is... an unfortunate necessity. I will take it upon myself to care for his mind."

He would win the argument with his father.

"The mortals known as the Fire Gensai find no reprieve in dreams. They're becoming... less due to sleep. I seek a way for the opposite to be true. I seek counsel as to how this may be done."

[mystic1110]

The Sleepless Citadel, Helfarch

The Demons were silent for a long moment. . . eventually one. . . just one of them spoke. It was unclear which one

In order to counsel the noble Lord I must ask three questions. First, which dreams do they claim make them less? Second, which dreams would they wish to receive? Third, aside as a favor graciously given to you, why should we accede?

The tone was curious - if curiously could be described as a disemboweled animal - and respectful - if respect could be described as a crushing feeling as if buried under dirt. But such is how demons talk.

[Alber]

Passaer, The Void

Passaer floated above the playground for generations of mortal lives, relatively motionless; feeling through the breaths of mortals, trying to pick one out of the sea respiration for one he could work with. A few stood out, but either didn't feel quite right or were otherwise too distant for Passaer to get a pinpoint on the exact location. Eventually, however, he found what he was looking for. A mortal going through a melody of breaths that belied a pain that was too great for the air god to resist. All at once, he opened his great eye and hurled his massive form over the southern part of Demiourgia, near where he originally emerged from, and observed down below.

Yusri, Southern tip of Demiourgia

Yusri crawled on hands and knees just west of where his village, home, and family had been just a few dozen Blinks earlier. He stopped, his broken body no longer having the strength to move him. He had always believed that, even if none had come directly down to his people and made their presence known, the Gods were always watching, guiding the paths of men, beast, dwarves, trees, what have you, no matter how small their lives might be or how simply they lived. This belief colored his entire life, made him believe that, no matter how bad things became, that they were always in the plan of some higher being than himself.

It was for this reason, that when Yusri's farm, home, and business mysteriously burnt to the ground, he was silent. When his mate accidentally fell into the ocean and quickly sank beneath the oily waters, he was silent. When his oldest son was torn apart by wild beasts, when his three youngest were taken by frost when Phos suddenly replaced Oussia in the sky, and when the remainder of his children all died one by one of starvation as they were no longer able to find enough food to sustain themselves, he was silent. It was only now that his spirit was broken; that he truly felt the futility of his life crashing down upon him. He would die alone, senselessly, and without meaning. His now nearly skeletal body would not even make a good meal for the scavengers.

It was now, his will to continue lost, that he finally cried out. He shouted in anger and sobbed in grief, with all of the volume his battered and emaciated body could muster, wheezing and coughing through all of it. These last, desperate cries of a dying man were, contrary to his own thoughts, felt by at least one being. At that moment, Yusri found himself suddenly lifting up. His cries of anguish quickly changed to a gasp of shock, followed by noises of terror as he tried in vain to hang onto something, anything as he began falling upwards towards the void. Eventually, he ceased struggling, and he once again resigned himself to his fate, chalking this up to simply yet another unexplained random misfortune.

"Relax." A deep, smooth, yet booming voice said to him, paradoxically startling him all over again. Especially once he became aware of what was actually speaking to him. After calming down again, the creature explained at length what, and who he was, at least as much as there was to explain. Passaer was truthful with him for the most part; he was a newly born deity in need of followers, and that he had chosen Yusri to be his voice and prophet. He left out the actual criteria for having been chosen, but Yusri did not care. To him, this was vindication for everything that he had been through; his hope and faith were at last rewarded. He was so elated by this, that he neglected to ask questions when Passaer told him to go out into his people and gather them for a great journey out of the Playground.

"Go west, then follow the coast west and north until you are as west as you can go without walking into the ocean. I'll meet you there." Passaer ordered plainly, his voice, although loud, spoken with an otherwise very grounded tone. "But first..."

The great beast grabbed onto Yusri with his chitinous appendages, and took a yawning breath, the force of which threatened to pull the human's head from his neck. Yusri's lungs were forcibly relieved of their air, and along with it a small portion of his very soul was transferred into the god. With this they were linked, and Passaer proceeded to lower Yusri back down to the Playground below.

Upon landing, Yusri found himself reenergized, despite the fact that his body still ached and his stomach still roared with hunger. Every step continued to plague him, but he no longer cared. He once again had purpose, and thus his stride had every bit of the spring in his step as he once had with a home and family. He traveled throughout the human villages, towns, and other settlements, enthusiastically spreading the word of Passaer, of a land away from the playground, where suffering, pain, and worry would be a thing of the past. Yusri had never considered himself a charismatic man, but his sheer joy and passion managed to sway the hearts of the people, and in only a few hundred Blinks, he was leading a procession of thousands north-westward on the vague words of a previously unknown god.

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AP 13 + 5 = 18 Rollover

AP 18 - 2 = 16 Create Organization: Vagrants: Comprised largely of outcasts and refugees of various misfortunes, at the moment they are mostly just a very large herd of humans migrating across the length of Demiourgia.

AP 16 - 0 = 16 Mark the Chosen: Yusri the Hopeful: An enthusiastic human leader and speaker of the many (mostly guessed at) virtues of Passaer.

[Rainshine]

Mianmi, the Void

Land sprung up over time as she hummed and watched. Tribes and creatures that she did not know, and doubtless more she had not seen, rose up and formed enclaves against the world. And the Tenders… tended the Song and saw to the growing of the world. But what Mianmi had in mind was something larger in scale than all this. From sea to sea, with no enclave of their own, they would be those who tend to the intelligent creatures that they could. They must be creatures hardy of soul, but friends to all they meet, no threat to any. Creatures at home in forest glade or city streets. Theirs would be a lovely and wonderful song indeed, one full of adventure, tragedy, and beauty.


Her hum changed tune and intensity, to a tune of creation. As she shaped her newest children, she sang a quiet song, each verse weaving its subtle way into her creation.

Solid and stout,
Their tunes known
The world throughout.
Hearty and hale,
From the road,
They shall not quail.


The form her creation took was a small one, of a height with the Girron, small enough to fit behind a large bush. Taking after a number of the intelligent creatures in the world, it was possessing of two eyes and a mouth. A well-formed, if a bit large, nose sat between them. Large ears that would take in the sounds around them, would hear the music of life. Most of all, though, what she shaped was their spirit and their soul. They would be people with an upbeat spirit who would not stay down. Toils and travails of their roads would not wear them out. Full of humor and life, vim and vigor. They would walk and swim and travel the world, and spread song and story.

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AP 2 + 5 (Rollover) - 2 (Create Populace: Halfling) = 5

[Toxic Mind]

Dark Grove, Cassandra, the Peer, Hagatha's Spriggin

Dryads did not wilt until they died. They were green and verdant and growing up until the moment they rejoined the earth. "take me." she says, no semblance of mirth on her face.

[Shmee]

Tiamat, Demiourgia

Tiamat watched in a jealous rage as the Metallic Dragons began reaching out to the Dwarves and the Kobolds. Naturally there were some Dwarves who would seek favors from the Chromatic Dragons, but with her Eldest Brother in the way, Tiamat knew that she would be unable to influence these mortals as she desired. It was then that she notices a new race expanding over Demiourgia.

Unlike the Dwarves, these creatures were crude and unspeakably plain. They were perfect. It seemed that they also have a tendency towards violence while believing that might makes right. Well then... Tiamat was about to show the Orcs just how right they are.

Making her grand entrance to a settlement of Orcs, she lands in front of them, her wings extended fully as she gives the Orcs but a moment to take in her splendor before all her five heads demand "Which of you considers himself the biggest of all?"

[Yeshon]

The Sleepless Citadel

"To the first, dreams of war and dreams of descent into the depths of the sea. They find no respite in these dreams. For dreams of war they are a peaceful people and dreams of conflict fray their sanity. I am uncertain as to why the dreams of descent are so harmful, though they are of the elements they view water and your mistress with a sense of fear I had not considered possible among mortals."

"For the second, they are a scholarly people. Perhaps an understanding of dreams will bring them peace. They are an industrious people, perhaps sending them dreams of construction will heal the frays the former two inflict upon them."

As to your last," Helfarch smiled, "It is an undeniable facet of my nature to see all made more, to see creation blossom into what I know it can be. I only hope you will be kind enough to instruct me on the needs of your people."

[Phobia]

Hagatha's Spriggin, Cassandra, The Peer - Dark Grove

"I wonder what your screams sound like!" The Spriggin declared madly while changing advancing slowly. "You aren't fleeing like those other horrified dryads, well.. The ones that escaped of course." She flashed a wide grin at her with the body of one that didn't escape. "You amuse me. Maybe I'll keep you."

As she spoke a root of Hagatha had moved around Cassandra and attempted to suddenly spear her from behind to make her another puppet of Hagatha like a common dryad.

[Toxic Mind]

Cassandra, the Peer, The Spriggan - Dark Grove

The root impacts into Cassandra's back, a perfect strike, and perhaps Hagatha even felt some pride or accomplishment in it. But then it became clear that something was terribly wrong. Because nothing happened. Hagatha did not gain control, did not kill. Cassandra merely stood, a dull expression of boredom on her face. "Is that it?" she asks, yawning. She plucks a leaf from a tree and throws it, lightning fast, at the neck of the Spriggan, it's razor edges gleaming even in the dull light.

[mystic1110]

Dark Grove, Hagatha's Spriggin, Cassandra, The Peer

The peer does not intervene even though he sees the attack. or doesn't see it. . . imagines it. It's what he has done and seen countless others do in dreams of war. . . why should reality be different.

Instead he speaks. And that speech could be seen as an intervention, as the Spriggin heard an insectile whine coming from behind eyes. Even a sadist would take pause in their attack in such a circumstance.

Do you miss the embrace of Sleep?

The Sleepless Citadel

The inquisitor. . . for it was the inquisitor whom had spoken was silent for a long time. Not long enough to be rude, but just long enough for the hint of a question to play inside Helfarch's head? Will the demon talk again?

And as soon as he thought that - the demon spoke in his thoughts. A soft whisper like a paper scroll strangling a student between the stacks.

Why should dreams bring them respite? But nonetheless, you have come to the wrong temple my Lord. We of the Nightmare sect feed on those dreams of doubt, of fear and uncertainty. Those dreams where mortal kind see themselves debased and made less. We can not by our nature grant them visions of success.

You wish to see creation made into what it could be? To be made more? Which creation? The world above these waters is mere reality. We live in the depths of fantasy. The tear of mortal hope is what gives us life. If each mortal found respite in dream - we would be undone.


The inquisitor took pause

War comes from the Blood Praetor, and those of the Omen Clan. They use those dreams to train and to live. They are our warriors, while we are their priests. Without those dreams of war. . . they would be nothing. Just mud on the sea bed. Those softer dreams come form the Ecstasy clan - they are our artists and politicos. If any would help you in your quest. It would be them and their Smiling Praetor.

The other two demons spoke

No disrespect my Lord. We hope you fail. Even though our clans intertwine we are ever at war with ourselves. As mortals dream nightmares due to us, we grow stronger. As they act on their dreams of war, so do the Omen demons. If they indulge, the Smiling Praetor smiles. As one rise, the others diminish. If you seek to eradicate nightmares, we must oppose you. We would have no choice.

The cacophony of mental speech was almost unbearable - it was like a storm in one's mind as the demon's screamed their protests.

Of course the actual halls of the temple were silent as the dead.

[Phobia]

Hagatha, Cassadra, The Peer - Dark Grove

"Excellent." The Spriggin practically gushed as the root struck home. It tried to grow inside her, to connect with the dryad equivilant of her nervous system and basically wear her like a finger-puppet on her root. But it didn't happen.

"Interesting!" The mouth-piece of Hagatha said in perhaps even more excitement. She wasn't used to something fighting back so successfully. The Spriggin let out a squeek of pain on Hagatha's behalf as the root was sliced from Cassandra's back.

"So many new things!" Hagatha said gleefully as she now also noticed The Peer speaking to her. The very act of this creature speaking was uncomfortable. "Your very voice is pain.. delightful! Sleep? Well I have had trouble-"

The Spriggin slumped down as it was struck by Cassandra's leaf and collapsed obscenely on the forest floor. It lay there disturbingly for a moment before disentrating like a brittle leaf. The root that had pulsed in it's back pulled back from where the body had lain and began to rapidly recede into the forest likely leading straight to the true Hagatha.

[thethird]

Eucle - Neutral Ground

As the elves and dryads arrive to Neutral Ground Eucle grows happier by the moment. They start growing trees and heart trees in the city making it lusher and greener with life. This trees though are watered by the multifaceted and everchanging waters. Waters that had promised to give the gift of song and speech to those that touched it. Seeping the magic liquid into their trunks the trees grow differently from how they would have done under the First Tree canopy. The gardeners shape and reshape the trees and to their efforts are added expert dwarven engineers. Branches connect and disconnect forming bridges and avenues. Soon neutral ground grows into a bizarre and chaotic city confusing to any stranger. A city that appears to be very much alive with passages swifting at whim.

The longer the Wealth God in the shores the clearer one thing becomes to him. He isn't like the others. He had seen Deimos and Pernieth sleep, he had seen them dream, but he hadn't ever dreamed himself. He hadn't paid attention to it. Neither Deimos nor Pernieth were like him, who was to say that they had the same or even similar needs? But humans, dwarfs, genasi, rust monsters, kobolds, elves, dryads, trees, dragons, gods... all of them dreamed. Eucle did not. It was there in the sea that he finally found an answer. He remembered his birth. He had been born there under the waves. He had been hungry at the time. Eating dreams. There, under the waves, other creatures did as he had done. Those creatures didn't dream either. He was like them. He was one of them. He was a demon.

The Wealth God was confused and bafled. He called to his inheritance with promises of rich dreams and power. And some came to him, lured by Eucle's siren song. Those that did, those that chose to answer the Wealth God calling were changed by him. Turned into less and more at the same time. They were less real but more much more ephemereal. Unconfined from the waters they were true creatures of dream, hardly living outside of it without an anchor.

Then he looked to the rust monsters and anhilators within Neutral Ground, those whe had created to destroy and amass wealth. They were linked to him a manifestation of his will and strength in the prime. But they were not like him and he wasn't like them. That was to be solved. To be changed. He filled them with more of his essence and his plans and at the same time he filled himself with theirs. Antennae, sprung over his temples in the image of the monsters and the creatures turned more draconic as Deimos had dreamed to be. Wings, partly insectoid and partly draconic, sprung on their backs, their bodies became longer and elongated sinuous, their many legs sprang claws. And like dragons they grew with age and experience. As their antennae destroyed things they became more intelligent and darker turning from what earlier would have been a rust monster into what now was an anhilator. Oxid the eldest and largest changed further, springing a third pair of antennae and rivaling in size with the greatest wyrms. It was Oxid and his fellow anhilators that Eucle turned to to direct the dream. They were his, only his, and they would dream of wealth, both what they destroyed and what they were still to eat.

Satisfied the Wealth God taped in their potential, both demons and rust creatures, and preached to those that were truest to him teaching them new secrets only possible with a strong will and a vivid dream. He taught them plenty of secrets from dreams and minds. The Gardeners started to transmit the magic they had learned into this new power while the Syndicate put this new power to practical uses.

His gaze then moved toward the trees forming Neutral Ground. Their barks were strong and their leaves sharp. He had taken a liking to trees from Pernieth and with Deimos he had ensured that the rooted had strength in offense and defense. Mezethera's waters changed them in ways the other gods hadn't imagined. If her waters were capable of turning a ship built of dead wood into a living and singing behemoth what wouldn't they do to a living forest. With the aid of both the Gardeners and the Syndicate he groomed them into a new thing. The Gardeners used their new acquired powers to brew a concoction of time itself, Quintessence they called it, mixing it with the irised dream waters they were capable to infuse someone in a deep dream. They started grooming the trees with it, making them dream deeper, it was a pleasant dream a dream of Neutral Ground, Dream Neutral Ground. If Eucle's Anhilators were the directors the trees were the chorus and orchestra. The Syndicate used powerful psionic anchors to afix the dream to the material making it even harder to distinguish between the two of them. Those trained by the wealth god in the dream secrets were able to dream walk through the city as if they were in the flesh. Neutral Ground everchanging architecture was real and surreal at the same time not limited anymore with concerns such as physics if the dreamers were strong enough.

Once Neutral Ground and Dream Neutral Ground are one and the same it is time to reach further and extend. The members of the Syndicate and as many members of the Gardeners as are willing and capable of coming momentarily to the city are recalled. There they will be taught the secrets of dreams that their colleagues already know. New expeditions, formed by a group of both Syndicate members and Gardeners launch towards all the corners around Zalsaram. They carry with them saplings of dream trees that are to be planted in new havens or given as tokens of friendship to the races that form both the Gardeners and the Syndicate. While the elves and dryads have permission to teach their kind how to control their dreams, and thus reach Dream Neutral Ground, the others are instructed to not do so, at least for now.

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3 AP + 3 AP from rollover
6 AP - 1 AP Create Subrace Quori: The Quori, or Wealth Demons, are the few demons that have heeded Eucle's call. While they are no longer confined to a physical form they are shackled in the world of dreams. While they have a respect for Mezzethera they are ultimately Eucle's creatures and loyal to him. Neutral Ground high concentration of dreaming trees, that are continuously watered with Mezzethera's waters acts as a collective dream where the Quori reside. They can possess some of the heart trees and speak through them, thanks to Mezzethera giving the gift of speach to the trees, and pass their knowledge along.

5 AP - 1 AP Create Subrace Dream Trees: The Trees within Neutral Ground, and soon beyond, have been specially cared for by the most devout gardeners. Originally they were blessed with the old courage god arms and armour making them specially enduring after that they have been feed with the waters of the dream goddess and the sublimated essence of time created by mortals. This turns them into a soporific state making their dreams strongly mingle with each other. Yet they are not defenseless in the waking world for within each of them resides a Quori spirit. This spirits are bound to the trees since they are a tiny sprout turning them into a creature with two minds, one in the waking world and another in the dream world. (This works more as a template than as a subrace, it depends on how the tree is cared for. If Hagatha is cool with it I would love to give turn weirdwoods into this too)

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8 - 2 Create Populace (Rust Monsters, Annihilators): Eucle has created this creatures to act as a way to control the riches and the economy in the world. He has also linked their consuming touch to his power being able to redistribute whatever this creatures destroy.

4 AP - 1 AP Nourishment Rust / Annihilators "Dragons": This creatures always loyal to the wealth god were at the core of the Syndicate with their hoards and when Neutral Ground was founded it would be fair to say that it was built around them. Now they dream of another Neutral Ground, Dream Neutral Ground, a city not limited by euclidian geometry where the Quori roam. Each one of them lives in a symbiotic state with a Quori acting as their hosts when necessary and sharing the knowledge of the waking world with them. They are now a single race, from rust monsters to annihilators and judging by Oxid third pair of antennae even beyond that. Their minds are strong with psionics for they give focus to Dream Neutral Ground.

3 AP - 1 AP Create Concept (Spell to Power) Erudite & (Psionic) Artificer: Eucle teaches his faithful, and only them, the power of the mind and dreams. Those among the Syndicate can become Psionic Artificers while those among the Gardeners can become Spell to Power Erudites. They work along their original organization goals, the Syndicate extending and creating wealth, and the Gardeners researching and developing magic psionics. They all work together within Neutral Ground storing the researched knowledge and created items within Dream Neutral Ground.

0 AP Nourishment (Use of Eucle's Vault of Plenty): Those faithful to Eucle and the trees of neutral ground learn lucid dreaming. Through the use of lucid dreaming they can reach Dream Neutral Ground while inside this dream city they are protected from Mezzethera and the demons, those that aren't Quori of course.

2 AP remaining

[Yeshon]

Deep in madness, deep beneath the earth. Ulric heard his own thoughts. A cacophony of voices protesting some injustice about to be inflicted upon him. Had he past a new breaking point? Was he imposing limits on himself now? Where these voices the shattered remains of his psyche?

silence

Like that, the cacophony left him. That last voice, it was terrible, Ulric hoped it was not he that the voice commanded.

And that, was the moment Ulric realized that the voice could not be his own.

When Helfarch spoke to quiet the demons' protests the temple shook. He did not shout, he didn't even speak above a whisper. No, his voice was not loud, it was powerful.

"You dare? You speak as ones blinded by how things are. You do not see nor even seek how things could be. How dare you claim that I am limited?!"

A horrific light filled the temple. The walls themselves shined with a brilliance that would dwarf the face of the summer sun. A light that seemed to sear their souls. Still, they heard him, his voice reverberated through their being.

"Is the only power of nightmare to make other races less? Can you only exist so long as you harm? If so you are not fit to be rated above parasites. But you did not insult yourselves only, no, I am a nightmare, I am what was inflicted upon Elev Nosh. In calling yourselves parasites, you call me a parasite. Worse, I am simply the means by which a parasite feeds. YOU DARE CALL A GOD YOUR MOUTH?!"

The Citadel shook violently as he finally raised his voice, stone cracked and the citadel seemed ready to tear itself apart. But then, as suddenly as the god's temper flared, it ceased, and with it the Citadel stilled and the light faded. The structure healed whatever damage was done, if it had even been done in the first place. Indeed the ocean was undisturbed by Helfarch's outrage, the only ones affected were the demons of nightmare.

"But I am more than your clumsy attempts to guess the nature of your mouth, you are more than you begin to comprehend, and nightmares are more than you clumsy creatures know. Do you think greatness is obtained in repose? Do you think gods are great through inaction?"

Ulric disappeared as the god turned back to the ocean. "I seek to grant them repose for without repose there is no energy to perform an action. Even the gods may spend the utmost limit of their power. I am not so much a fool that I would ask dreams only grant repose, for they are MORE than tools of rest. But you are beyond fools if you assume the only power of nightmare is to harm. Nightmares bring resolve, help those with fears overcome fear, force those with flaws to face themselves. No, nightmares have more power than any other dream and I wept to see them in the hands of such inadequate caretakers."

Helfarch considered a moment. "We are not in balance. First you welcome me into your home. That is a boon. Second you inflicted madness upon my friend. That is an injury. Third you offered to heal my friend. That is a boon. Fourth you assumed me a fool. That is an injury. Fifth you informed me of my destinations. That is a boon. Sixth you insulted my being. That is a grave injury."

Helfarch didn't gesture as a single sliver of divine power left him. "You are owed an injury and so I inflict one upon you. Thus is the cycle brought to seven and so we find balance."

With that, Helfarch left and swam to demons of omen.

Spoiler

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-1AP Pestilence- Demons of Nightmare now suffer Nightmares. These Nightmares will inflict injury upon the demons if they inflict injury upon mortals. It will be a boon to demons if they bring boons to mortals. So does Helfarch enforce social balance between demons and mortals.

Ending AP: 12

NOTE: One shouldn't assume that Helfarch is only looking for gooey gumdrop rainbow unicorns in nightmares. He wants nightmares to serve a purpose beyond giving the demons sustenance. He's looking for nightmares to make a mortal stronger through experiencing them, to challenge but not harm. He does not presume to change the nature of nightmares without the goddess of the sea's permission, but he will not suffer one to become less while the other becomes more.

[Alber]

Yusri, South Demiourgia

The procession marched onwards through the southern part of the continent, the continuing winter making it difficult for the large group to find enough food to sustain itself. Eventually they found themselves travelling near the canyons Passaer himself spawned out of. Here, Passaer spoke to Yursri through the bit of his soul lodged in the air god's throat.

"Stop here. These are the fissures of my birth. Have them go down into the ravines. They will find stones blackened and smoothed by my passing. Have every one of them take as many as can fit in a bag slung over the shoulder and carry them with them."

Yusri was understandably confused by this."With all due respect, how exactly will rocks hel..."

"You'll see." Passaer inturrupted, a mirthful chuckle filling Yusri's ears.

Yusri commanded his people as Passaer had told him. The ravines were steep, and not all of those who went down the cliffs made it back up, but they did find the rocks they were told of. However, mixed in with the rocks was a strange substance that smelled of fruit and dried meat. A few tasted the substance and found it to not only be edible, but it gave them renewed strength and vigor. The people then eagerly collected both stones and this new food and collected the stones into bags and the food into carts. Yusri was ecstatic to see his faith paid off, and the people sang praises of the god, their bellies and backs heavy with the gifts of Passaer.

Spoiler

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AP 16 - 1 = 15: Mold Land: The fissures of Demiourgia now have large deposits of obsidian, smooth, glassy stones blackened by heat and ash.

AP 15 - 1 = 14: Nourish Populace: Fissunicen: Balls of dried meat from a questionable source mixed with fruit and herbs that magically form around deposits of obsidian. The substance is filling, light, and fills the eater with energy, but has very few nutrients. When the initial burst from the food wears off, the eater often feels worse than he began.

Yusri, Neutral Ground

The group continued yet further along Demiourgia, coming up to the gates of the spectacular city of Neutral Ground. Yusri, excited for the potential of rest for his group, rushed them all to the city gates, hoping to gain entry for the large and weary group, all of whom eager for the momentary respite a stay in the city would bring.

[mystic1110]

The Sleepless Citadel, Black Praetor

The bent forms of the Nightmare Priests bent even further, as if crushed if their forms could finally feel the endless fathoms of water above them. They could always experience nightmares - after all how could a craftsman create without intimately knowing their subject, and if Omen demons swim through and live their wars, why wouldn't nightmare demons wade in nightmare - but this was the first time they experienced their personal nightmares.

Nightmares are ragged imperfect cuts through a psyche. Helfarch was wrong in that he thought that demons considered Nightmares only tools for harm. The resolve - the drive given to mortals only allowed them to create better more nuanced nightmares. But he was right in that they were parasites. . . the positive effects on a mortals lives, if possible were merely ancillary. The demons fed off the harm, specifically. It was not their intention to improve lives. Or harm lives. Whatever happened in the world above, as long as dreamers continued to sleep, was mere happenstance.

But no longer.

Now think black oily smoke came from their sightless eyes - the manifestation of a Demon's Nightmare. The very first demonic dreams. The dreams were darker than black, they seemed to pull in any ambient light - of which there was none. They were like the void, like black holes, like rips and tears in the universe. The opposite of creation which is not destruction - the nightmares were, instead, the embodiment of solipsism and nihilism. This sticky smoke latched itself onto their forms and they feared not being. . . .they feared for the first time . . . the first time any being felt in this playground. . . . that nothing mattered. Not even their gods.

A voice spoke. . . a voice that sounded as deep as the void of these new dreams. . . and the Demons straightened.

Devour

The demons turned and saw with their sightless eyes their Black Praetor covered with this new dream of absolute nothing. It infused his form, and shone black from beneath his black robes. . . His normally white eyes were now blacker than the black mask that was his face. A figure cut from void and rimmed with nothing.

The oily smoke extended into his mask, as it poured off him. . . pulsing. And thats when the demonic priests understood that Helfarch gave them a boon, not a pestilence. For demons ate dreams to stay solid - to avoid dissolving back into nothing. . . . but now that they could dream . . . and devour their own dreams. . . they were free from their cycle. Of course - if the flavor of the nightmare was nihlism - it would only mean that the demons would begin to shift towards that vision.

The Black Praetor - burned from the dream sun - and now shrouded with void - turned back to the temple. And the demons, with oil solipsistic dreams descending from their heads to their eyes - which turned from white to deep black - followed.

Mezzethera, Strange Waters, Helfarch

The waters of lady Mezzethera are large indeed. The continents take up merely a portion of the Playground - the rest belongs to her depths. The domains of the demons are far apart. . . and in between are the raging torrents of dreams and other things. Unknown seas with no names, and strange waters . . .

[Lady Tialait]

The Dwarven Holds, High Artificer Agni

As winter had set in Agni's beard had grown long. The craft of artifice had grown most popular amongst the people of the holds. Agni had wealth, privilege, and power in the holds enough to even challenge not only any given chief, but the idea of chiefhood all together. Though Dred Olg urged him forward, he was glad to sit in his laboratory and tinker with invention. Agni loved to teach the craft to his people, and practice it in new and surprising ways. The newest invention not an item, but an understanding of the fundamentals of reality. It was time to reveal his newest invention to all of dwarven kind, but this time would have the Ur-Priesthood reveal it for him. So, he gathered the Ur-Priesthood.

Days later Agni and the Ur-Priesthood gathered in a chamber with a large wooden table. The Ur-Priests preferred the exotic and cruel material. Agni sat upon his iron wrought chair, he never liked seeing the Ur-Priests attempts to deny all Gods profaning the God of Nature. He pulled a large notebook, sheets of extremely thin metal etched with his words pressed in with a thick metallic cover. He opened it upon the wooden table the internal runes flickered and glowed not by magic, but reflecting bits of magical light from the various magical trinkets held by each of the gathered dwarves. The Ur-Priest adjusted their soot black robes and stroked their finely pruned beards waiting for Agni to begin. The Artificer cleared his throat and began, "My finest work has been finished, a greater manipulation of divine forces then we have ever had before. Your own taken power, or mine pales compared to this." He flips a few pages of the tome, and pushes it forward for the Ur-Priests to read. Muttered whispers seemed to indicate understanding, and perhaps disapproval. "This is merely theory, practical application will require students, academe, and innovation."

The Priests whispered among themselves, then one of them spoke up trying to stand taller to toward over Agni. "High Artificer Agni, I'm afraid we do not approve of this new way of thinking. We are the gatekeepers of the power taken from the heart of Zalasram. This is not an acceptable use of it. You are merely an artificer and cannot understand the powers you seek to mettle with." The Ur-Priest takes the tome and slips it into his robes, "We honor you, however you cannot be allowed to continue this research. You endanger us all with this dangerous way of thinking. You would sully the purity of our art." Three of the Priests whisper dark chants mimicking the prayers the faithful would make when the attention of a divinity is brought, they pull the magical energies from the divine spark into themselves reforging it to their purpose. Their magic wrapped around Agni turning his flesh to stone. The Ur-Priests look to each other then moved to leave.

No one noticed the missing High Artificer as he was prone to vanishing for long periods of time to his study to work on large projects. The Priesthood took the Tome Of Agni and studied the information of it, soon they took some Acolytes holding the new process as an extension of their own power. Ur-Priesthood soon divided into several schools, each specializing in a specific chapter of the Tome of Agni each carefully orchestrated to be submissive to the Ur-Priesthood.

Spoiler

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2 - 1 Create Concept (Gramarist) = 1

The Dark City, The Visionary, Dred Olg

Dripping oil heralded the return of Dred Olg to her father. A swirl of oil in the streets of the Visionary revealed the statue that was once High Artificer Agni.

"Master, I have brought you the most powerful creature in all the playground. I present High Artificer Agni, he has used his races knowledge of Zalasram to not only steal the flesh, but the divinity of our dreaded enemy."

The echoing voice of the Visionary brought down with anger upon Dred Olg, with a tinge of annoyance.

"Do you presume to know the future? You are not destined to bring me the most powerful creature of the playground. Your duty and purpose is to lead the Nightmare Engines. Your sister Nosh brought me two examples of power from the mortal races, and you presume to know more of my selection process then her? Your no greater then Jin Xua'Hal who even now does his duty without questioning me."

Dred Olg bows before her master, "I apologize for my mistake. I will return to the Nightmare Engines." and she vanished in a splash of oil.

The machines of the dark city grabbed the statue of a dwarf and pulled it to a processing plant. Waste not, want not.

[Gunhaven]

A form coalesces within the materium, the discarded remnants of war. Destruction was the first to solidify, heated by Fire, then given the barest of movements by Reveleries. This spark of life then sought out a proper host, one that could birth it into the world, and found it in the little engines of carnage known as Goblins to those races that have encountered their kind. The change was minute at first, the goblins growing more brave with their raids with each passing month in the materium, until the fetal god was ready to be born.

The goblin raid leader Krenko had gathered a hundred goblins together in the blink of a divine eye and descended upon the small waystation of Thorn. Thorn in and itself was like any other small hamlet that was too close to the rising Goblinoid and Orcish menace that didn't have sturdy defenses except for one small fact: Thorn was also a warehouse for the Syndicate and held enough food to support the war band that Krenko led for a season. The fetal god kicked as the blood of goblin and man filled the streets and the waystation was burned to the ground after the supplies were looted. With Thorn in embers and the raid a success, the goblins returned to their camp on the coast.

The bonfire that was lit in celebration was the womb that birthed Grenzo, the Cackling Flame. In a burst of fire that didn't harm those who had carried him for the long months he appeared in the bonfire; a shadowy grin in the flames and two eyes that burned a crimson red in the middle of the fire. With a cackling laugh he called out triumphantly "Finally, I am born! You, you shall be my herald!" With a lick of flame he engulfed Krenko, yet didn't harm the war boss. Instead Krenko received a vision of fire and destruction, of a world for the Goblins he led to play all of the tricks they deemed fun.

Krenko whipped his goblins into a religious fervor given his new vision. The fire was built up bigger and bigger as the fastest scouts spread word of the glory of Grenzo. A hundred blinks later and a few hundred goblins had gathered at the original bonfire that was started to celebrate the birth of Grenzo. Yet the world was not yet ready for the fervor of a goblinoid mass and as they were roving toward their grand target of Neutral Town they were stopped.

With a great heave the earth cracked. Slowly the camp that was on the coast was broken off from the rest of the land. Before the goblins could turn on each other, however, Grenzo once again appeared and called out "You, who have gathered in my name! We will live to burn and party! Watch as I mold you in My image! Watch as I provide for My kind!" In a burst of flame that washed over the goblins, they were transformed into a new kind of terror. One that felt the burning fire of Grenzo inside their gut and the desire to perform to His twisted charade.

Spoiler: AP Expenditures

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Starting AP 3
AP -1: Mold Land. The earth surrounding the camp heaves and splits, the portion of land that had once been connected being separated by a moat of steaming and turbulent waters. As the land is sundered from the mainland, it slowly drifts apart due to the twitches of Zalsaram until it's a small island of fire worshiping, partying goblins (The only kind that matter!)
AP -1: Create Subrace (Aram): Those blessed by Grenzo, who feel the Cackling Flame within their form and guide their function. Stats to follow!

[Draken]

[Helfarch, Strange Waters]

... And strange things belong to Zalsaram. And although many seas have no names, this one was known to the Omen clan as Aldegund, the Carnificial Sea, daughter to Zalsaram and sister to Mezzethera, a vast thing lucidly dreaming of the broken flesh of her father's enemies and their progeny.

It isn't long into these turbulent waters that Helfarch finds himself ashore in the broken delusion of Mount Challenge besieged by a burning host. The corpses of dragons lie impaled on great spires of twisted marble and the mortal descendants of the Cosmic Mother fight a futile struggle against the unending army of The World.

Perhaps the palatial fortress he seeks lies somewhere in these surreal battlefields. The Omen demons themselves are likely occupied by the violent fancies of this Primal Duchess.

Spoiler: Actions

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2+5 AP = 7!

3 AP - Raise Divine Rank: 7
3 AP - Raise Divine Rank: 8
The Actions Create Land (Apex of the World), Create Plane (Belly of the Beast) and Create Artifact (The Heart of Zalsaram) account for the 8 AP needed for these 2 DR increases.

0 AP - Mark of the Chosen: Duchess Aldegund, the Carnificial Sea. One of the rare, ancient and mighty Primal Elementals, a creature of Dreams and Water inhabiting the deep.

1 AP left.

[Yeshon]

Strange Waters

Ulric stirred, he was aware now, deep beneath the Earth though he was. Others existed, he could hear them now. Clamoring, screaming, perhaps they were trapped as he was? Perhaps they were still as he had been, convinced that all voices hear without came from within. Could he speak to them? Could he tell them their folly?

Helfarch saw Hell. Potential upon Potential, life upon life, snuffed out as if it were nothing, as if it didn't matter.

They are but dreams, but then, so was he.

Helfarch quieted his mind and sought the highest peak. Regardless of his actions, he couldn't change anything without destroying everything, such was the nature of dream, an endless fantasy. The armies of The World could not be overcome here.

Spying the highest peak of the mountains he set out towards it, hoping to find the Demons of Omen.

[Ralasha]

Ignus reaches out among her faithful, and marks them as better than the other Genasi of their kind.

The Arch-Sorcerer's eyes become ablaze as Ignus' own. And all of her true believers gain a mark upon them, as True Fire burns through their veins.

Spoiler: AP action

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0 AP remaining
1 AP: Nourishment: Searing Flame. All fire spells cast by worshipers of Ignus gain Searing Fire. Half Immunity, no resistance vs fire spells cast by them. A rune now resides upon the foreheads of those that remain true, those that falter or are swayed lose this benefit.

0 AP: Mark Mortal.

[Shmee]

Tiamat, Demiourgia

Tiamat watched in a jealous rage as the Metallic Dragons began reaching out to the Dwarves and the Kobolds. Naturally there were some Dwarves who would seek favors from the Chromatic Dragons, but with her Eldest Brother in the way, Tiamat knew that she would be unable to influence these mortals as she desired. It was then that she notices a new race expanding over Demiourgia.

Unlike the Dwarves, these creatures were crude and unspeakably plain. They were perfect. It seemed that they also have a tendency towards violence while believing that might makes right. Well then... Tiamat was about to show the Orcs just how right they are.

Making her grand entrance to a settlement of Orcs, she lands in front of them, her wings extended fully as she gives the Orcs but a moment to take in her splendor before all her five heads demand "Which of you considers himself the biggest of all?"

The biggest Orc pushes his way through the crowd. As Chieftain it was his duty to assert his dominance on anyone who would dare challenge his supremacy. The Orc looks around for the fool who had called him out, ready to bash his head in, only to bump into the largest five headed creature he had ever seen. Without giving any explanation, Tiamat unleashes all her five breaths upon the Orc, making sure that no traces remains. Perhaps one would argue that it was overkill, but for such simply creatures, nothing less than total shock and awe would work. And there was nothing as terrifying as witnessing the might of a Dragon.

Turning her attention to the rest of the Orcs, Tiamat roars "Is there anyone else among you, who wishes to challenge me, let him step forward!" Naturally, there were a few brave Orcs who charge at her regardless, hoping to take the now open position of Chieftain. Naturally, they are no match for Tiamat, who makes sure that they suffer the same fate as their late Chieftain. Once she is certain that she has asserted his dominance over these creatures she tells them

"I declare to you all the dawn of a new era. One were Orcs, Goblins and Hobgoblins shall first sweep across the lands of Demiourgia, one where under our guidance, we shall teach you the means to carry the Orcish menace to all corners of the Playground. Obey, and we shall lead you to into greatness, with all the blood you can shed! All other races shall be placed at your mercy! Disobey us..." she leers at the Orcs as several Chromatic Dragons land behind her. She does not need to complete her threat.

Thus while Bahamut and the Metallic Dragons had approached the Dwarfs in a subtle method, Tiamat and the Chromatic Dragons chose the direct approach with the Goblinoid and using fear and violence to get these lesser mortals to obey them, began preparing them for the inevitable conflict.

Spoiler

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No AP spend, but now the Orcs, Goblins and Hobgoblins have access to the Draconic classes.

[Toxic Mind]

Hagatha, Cassadra, The Peer - Dark Grove

Cassandra follows the root with ease, the disturbances left by it easy to see. Whatever this thing was, it clearly did not understand who it was dealing with. She does not wait for the Peer. It will follow of its own accord, or it will not. Such actions are of no concern to her.

[Draken]

[Strange Waters]

Helfarch is fortunate then, for his path is suddenly interrupted by a battlefield, an unlikely one, however, for none of the things that do battle exist, as far as he is aware.

On one side, he sees magnificent creatures reminiscent of idealized humans or perhaps elves or dwarves, with pearlescent feathered wings and polished armor, they fall from the sky weapons first upon ironclad maelstroms of wrathful elements, armed and armored viridian bonfires beneath which the land cracks and twists.

At the helm of the chthonic army, vast and draped in the cured skins of mortal women is a figure as feminine as a horrendous, blood-caked elemental could ever be.

"Drive back these wretched fiends, children of the world! They are all that stands against the Reclamation!"