Lords of Creation in the Playground (IC)

[Yeshon]

Helfarch takes the string gingerly, he holds it up allowing the light to play on his fingers, "Magnificent," He bows, "Thank you lady, I am in your debt."

When Matron Mother Elev Nosh comes, Helfarch is surprised, but returns the bow. Ulric is still muttering to himself. After she questions Ignus and Ignus answers, Helfarch speaks up,

"Surely you can feel the differences between the Gensai and the world as keenly as I."

[Lady Tialait]

The Matron is taken aback by the response.

"I see, then I was misinformed. My apologies. Then you would be an ally of The Visionary then, he sees a future that does not include Zalasram. This path is not simply fantasy brought by demonic whim, but reality. It is my duty to make sure all who are created may survive without that evil force, when it is inevitably destroyed. Perhaps you would offer some of yours to join in this perfection?"

She pauses for a moment then continues.

"I have nothing to offer in return, but the promise of perfection. A new world order, this is inevitable, my offer is simply to allow your children to join in it's shaping."

[Ralasha]

Ignus nods at his words, "It matters not, however, as I am making preparations to leave this place. I shall take my people, this city, and all of the things which I have made with me, except for this land. Which I leave as a marker of my having once been here. You may have your world, your conflicts, your wars, your greed and corruption. You may have your dreams and nightmares. I shall soon have none of it, nor shall my people. Save your hostility for those that wish you harm. I wish only to make, and restore."

Ignus shakes her head, "You came to me, a hostile presence first. Not asking, but demanding, and exclaiming. Denouncing my creations. You may have your world"

She remains placidly peaceful as she states these things. Her bearing unoffensive, her tone patiently resigned. Her face a smooth mask of slightly saddened neutrality.

[Lady Tialait]

The Matron shakes her head.

"Do not assume you know better then the Visionary. The future is his domain, if you do not help us."

Another pause in her speech as she collect her thoughts.

"There will be only corruption and doom for your children. I offer then perfection and salvation, would you deny this to them? Do you not love your creations? You have given them your script, your culture, and your shape. Would you see them turned into mockeries? Already, Zalasram moves upon the creations. How long do you think this will be allowed to continue? The power of the Visionary bound the monster, if the creature moves too far it will be required again. Only those who find perfection will survive. Salvation is offered to your children, do shove it away?"

[Phobia]

Hagatha, The Weirdwoods - The Dark Grove

The Weirdwoods moaned and gnashed! They had their meager movement and they could vocalize their desires but it wasn't enough. They required entertainment and flesh. And the dryads struggled to care for them but refused to provide for their.. Unusual demands.

"You! Dryad! Why don't you burn that one a little? Gehaha. Wait. Where are you going? I didn't ask you to kill them or anything! Gah you will all suffer!"

All night and day the Weirdwoods demanded these strange things from the weary and despondent dryads that dwelt in the Dark Grove. But they refused to give in. They looked on with pity at those that were already sick with the Black Lung, but few Dryads ate of the fruit anymore. It was still a hard life.

Then the inevitable happened and a human found the grove of a Weirdwood. The humans wandered lost and scared all over the lowlands of Demiourgia so it was expected some would find their way here. Hagatha and the Weirdwoods cried out for the flesh of the human, flesh they had never tasted, screams from a mortal they had never heard. Those dryads who were healthy and sane enough tried to lead the humans away from this evil place in spite of the Weirdwoods demands. This would be the last conscious action they took.

A few Weirdwoods launched their roots from the ground and stabbed them into the backs of the dryads growing into them. The life drained from the eyes those afflicted much to the horror of those not struck. A wicked smile crosse the lips of those rooted dryads.

"At last! Movement! These hands and these legs! Is this what it's like to move?" Hagatha said gleefully while using a rooted dryad like a mouthpiece. "Let's see how you move.." She said in more manic glee before surrounding the unfortunate humans in the grove. The dryads that weren't captured fled for their lives. The Weirdwoods used the dryads bodies to do horrible things to their kinfolk and the humans. They broke off pieces to be stuffed into their horrible tree-mouth while keeping their flesh sources alive and fresh. The ones that died fertilized the ground around the Weirdwoods and they grew larger and more corrupt. The most well nourished trees started to grow a strange new type of fruit that bore of the image of a screaming face. And if they ran out of flesh...

Well there were always more humans. And without a god or a leader they made for easy prey.

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AP: 6

Create Subrace (Spriggins) [1]: While dryads are lively and happy and consider themselves one with nature, the Spriggins are literally one with their Weirdwoods. They literally speak for the trees. All Spriggins have no true life, they are simply extensions of the will of a Weirdwood. They are usually connected by the back to the root of a Weirdwood but can still be controlled for brief times without a root directly connected although the body will break a part like a brittle leaf if separated too long and they certainly can't be sent very far out of the Dark Grove. Unlike Dryads they have no life in them and are basically husks, they appear brown and dried out but their faces can still express emotions horrifically. Not all Weirdwood groves have Spriggins yet mostly just the most interior ones but in short order Spriggins will replace dryads in the Weirdwoods.

Nourishment (Fruit of the Face) [1]: When a Weirdwood consumes the flesh of the living it becomes happier and more corrupt. Eventually almost all the fruit it produces will be of the rotten kind. But it keeps eating the flesh of the mortal races an odd thing happens and they produce large juicy pear-like fruits with the horrified frozen tortured faces of mortals on their skin. It's very nutritious but the main benefit is it's ability to heal wounds and bruises. Think of it kinda like a senzu bean-lite. Only a well fed Weirdwood produces these so beware.

Nourishment (The Dark Grove) [1]: The dark grove has so many trees that it insulates the creatures within in the winter and cools them in the summer generally protecting them from the elements.

AP: 3

[Darklady2831]

Deimos - A Journey Without Rest to Mare Exstasim

Deimos woke, and saw the things Eucle had taught the Elves. He weighed the benefits of such knowledge against the dangers, and found it acceptable. For now at least, he would not interfere. For Deimos had more pressing concerns. Countless dreams had flitted through his mind, and though he could not recall any single dream, he could recall what they were about. It was the contents of the dream that troubled him, and so he journeyed to the edge of the First Tree. He gazed down the vines to the oily black oceans, and jumped.

With a great splash, he hit the water, orienting himself to point down. Deeper he swam, feeling his way through the currents of water and dream. Slowly, he made progress. Demons, beings of muck and silt and dream, swam past him or around him, curious as to the purpose of such a being within the waters. The Night Dragon paid them little heed, only glancing at them to ensure they did not attack him. The First Hero approached the place that had intrigued him the most during his dreams, a massive eel-like construction at the bottom of the ocean. Mare Exstasim.

With great effort, he stood on the ocean floor, his eyes straining in the darkness to make out the details of the structure. This was it, here was where his dreams had brought him. He steeled himself, and trudged along the ocean floor, into the gaping maw of the building. "Hail, dream-lords!" He shouted, willing his voice to be carried through the water as easily as through air. "I seek parley!"

[Ralasha]

The Matron shakes her head.

"Do not assume you know better then the Visionary. The future is his domain, if you do not help us."

Another pause in her speech as she collect her thoughts.

"There will be only corruption and doom for your children. I offer then perfection and salvation, would you deny this to them? Do you not love your creations? You have given them your script, your culture, and your shape. Would you see them turned into mockeries? Already, Zalasram moves upon the creations. How long do you think this will be allowed to continue? The power of the Visionary bound the monster, if the creature moves too far it will be required again. Only those who find perfection will survive. Salvation is offered to your children, do shove it away?"

"A mother always knows what is best... Or so I have heard them say to their children." She gestures below. "I worry not for their corruption in a place that is inherently good. I created that place to be their home if ever we should need to leave. And these troubles that have begun..." She shrugs. "They cannot be good for anyone. If you wish to save them, bring them, come with us... I will make for them still other worlds to call their own, with mine as it's center. Let all things be pure and healthy of spirit mind and body."

[mystic1110]

Demiourgia, A Peer, Casandra

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Cassandra

The Speaker could feel it. The Darkening. She did not live off the Rays of the Dream Sun as the demons did, but she was still one with the Forest. Something was going terribly wrong beyond the borders of the First Tree. Something that Pernieth was blind to, for some reason or another. Cassandra bids her farewell to the assemblage on the Challenge Mountains, and steps into a tree to find the source of this corruption. She travels, grove by grove, speaking to her sisters, the dryads, and seeking news.

Spoiler: Mystic

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Cassandra is on the same trail if you want her and the Peer to meet up.

The Demon does not fly - instead it uses its strong tail to slither while upright. The land is so very much like the dreams of war he had lived through in order to become a Peer.

As he 'walks' mortals of all sorts fall asleep in front of him. He gently pulsates with arcane power, making animals, trees, the odd human or wandering dwarf look past him, and get drowsy. A young dragon sees him from afar, but by the time it thinks to investigate or attack it wakes from a nap - the Demon just a nightmare in its memory.

And thus the Demon walks unmolested. But even now he feels the dream suns power wane. It is still bright all things considering, but his power has a shade of false shadow in it now. Where an aura such as the one he was projecting at the moment would have happened without his notice, he not had to will it into existence. It was still easy, but the difference was worlds apart.

Without eyes that could see - the Demon instead saw the world in dreams. Demon's spoke through their minds and they "saw" other minds. They saw their fantasies and desires and fears. The world as seen by their eyes. But that's not true - people don't see dreams - they think dreams. They imagine. And so demons never truly see the world - they merely know of it through the imagination of others.

So where a man might look at a forest he has seen a thousand times and see a forest - to a demon the same such forest would be a blood soaked battlefield, the woods armed with splinterspears and the dead between each gap. And then they would "blink" and the forest would appear to be the most Majestic forest any mortal has ever dreamed up. "Blink" a drowned forest. "Blink" A forest where lovers slink off to and dance naked under the sun. "Blink" a forbidding wood - where shadows lay on top of shadow and eyes stare from every direction.

And through such forest the Peer slithered as it searched for its goal.

A tinge. . . the Demon felt a Wakeful mind - one too pwoerful to be affected by its sleep aura. The creature seemed to live in the sleeping mind of the tree. The demon laid a hand on a tree and spoke to it - it being the creature within the tree that was asleep, instead of the sleeping tree - it would be rude to wake a sleeper.

The demon spoke it its harsh vibrating silent language. Aside from the Mother Matron, it was unclear how a being would react to this sound that came from it's own head. A mere mortal might had bashed its brains out trying to get the sound out.

Who dwells within this sleeping one
?

[Lady Tialait]

The Matron sighs.

"Perhaps you should take your children and leave. The way you characterize them, they are too weak to achieve perfection."

The Mother Matron leaves in the same swirl of blood she came in with.

[Ralasha]

Ignus looks to Helfarch, "I would not take her perfection, she smells of war." She sears the bloodstains from the floor.

"Would you, perhaps come with me? We can shape my world together, and worlds beyond."

[Yeshon]

"Your assessment of my father's vision is more accurate than I'd like." He said sadly.

To her offer he smiles, but shakes his head, "I will assist when you have the need, but I cannot leave this world to suffer. Believe it or not, the one you just met is the kindest of my siblings, by far the kindest. If my father were to send my elder brother and twin upon this world... I'm probably the only one who'd have a chance of talking him down."

Helfarch sighed, "But for now, we are not in balance, you have done me a great service, and I must return the same." He strings the stone bow, drawing it, the light crackles in his hands as it draws the stone back, and the stone bends in his hands.

"I understand your children are haunted by dreams? Perhaps I can provide some assistance."

[Toxic Mind]

Cassandra and the Peer

Cassandra starts. She could feel the trees sleeping around her, but that was not all that strange given the age of this grove. The trees liked their sleep, after all, and were not limited by cycles of the suns. But this being that spoke into her head, this was something strange. The trees spoke to her mind and her feelings, that was nothing new, but this was not the voice of the trees.

"I am The Speaker. I am the voice of the Trees." she says back. Not so much says as thinks, the same way she speaks to the trees and they speak to her. "Who are you that comes here, and what is it you seek?"

[Ralasha]

"Your assessment of my father's vision is more accurate than I'd like." He said sadly.

To her offer he smiles, but shakes his head, "I will assist when you have the need, but I cannot leave this world to suffer. Believe it or not, the one you just met is the kindest of my siblings, by far the kindest. If my father were to send my elder brother and twin upon this world... I'm probably the only one who'd have a chance of talking him down."

Helfarch sighed, "But for now, we are not in balance, you have done me a great service, and I must return the same." He strings the stone bow, drawing it, the light crackles in his hands as it draws the stone back, and the stone bends in his hands.

"I understand your children are haunted by dreams? Perhaps I can provide some assistance."

Ignus nods solemnly, "They are threatened by terrors of the mind. It damages their spirit. They dream of only one of two things, killing each other, or being beneath the water."

"I would say you are the kindest, but you are not your sibling, and already you arm for war." She sighs sadly. "I shall leave the way open, and some of my people here in this place. If you have need of me, come, or tell them, and they shall pray on it, and I shall come. To kill is not a thing that should be done but out of necessity. To harm any living thing harms the core of one's self." She ponders, "But I do perhaps have one more gift to give before I go... though I am hesitant to do so. I shall give the gift of my magic. It may be of assistance..." (Corporimancy incoming. The use of HP to cast spells.) "A mimicry of how the gods wield power."

[mystic1110]

Cassandra and the Peer

The demon does not think it is strange for a voice to speak through his head - that is how beings speak. He saw in dreams that others think they speak by moving their orifices and expelling sound - vibrating the air through violence done upon it. But he thought it was a clever nightmare wrought by the Black Priests.

The black scarred mask of the Peer faces the tree as he speak his grating whisper silence at it

We of the Omen Tower have no names, we are Peer or Not. I am a Peer. I seek whatever disturbs the sleep of these beings that dream of sun.

The word "seek" held menace that could only properly be conveyed in mind speech - it was outrage and vengeance. It was curiosity and duty. Above all it was hatred.

To wake is to not to be for a Demon, to wake someone from a reverie is worse than murder - if the demons had held such a concept. They don't have sins after all, sins have no meaning to a being that breaths shame and fantasy, but to deprive someone of dreams would be such a sin.

[Toxic Mind]

Cassandra and the Peer
Coming to ABC this Fall
"Then it seems, One who is a Peer, that we have a common goal. Mine are the people who dream of the sun. They are my responsibility, my purpose. Something is terribly wrong. My sisters speak of a place of great darkness, where no longer does the gentle words of Pernieth hold sway. Where there is no longer the wild flourish of life, but the cold silence of death and decay. It is my duty to see it ended. If you would join me, I would welcome it. The dream sun nourishes your people, but it's fading means the death of mine." Cassandra's vehemence is obvious, and images of lifeless husks of trees, of blackened and destroyed trunks laid to waste appear around the demon, of the Longest Night, barely remembered now, of darkness absolute, and of the rising of the dream sun, and the darkening of it once again, the doom of all.

[Yeshon]

Ignus nods solemnly, "They are threatened by terrors of the mind. It damages their spirit. They dream of only one of two things, killing each other, or being beneath the water."

"I would say you are the kindest, but you are not your sibling, and already you arm for war." She sighs sadly. "I shall leave the way open, and some of my people here in this place. If you have need of me, come, or tell them, and they shall pray on it, and I shall come. To kill is not a thing that should be done but out of necessity. To harm any living thing harms the core of one's self." She ponders, "But I do perhaps have one more gift to give before I go... though I am hesitant to do so. I shall give the gift of my magic. It may be of assistance..." (Corporimancy incoming. The use of HP to cast spells.) "A mimicry of how the gods wield power."

"Hrm, I am a being formed by The Visionary from nightmares and omen, I can speak to the Praetors, see what is to be done."

Helfarch nods at her assessment and smiles as she reciprocates the offer for assistance, "As I said, I was formed from nightmare, a true nightmare, what mortals call an omen. I remember the specific dream that formed me and it was one of war. I arm so that, if it comes to pass, I may defend mortals. As for the result of violence, I would claim that whether or not you are harmed is dependent on why you fight more than whether you fight. I would say that putting yourself between danger and the innocent, you do no harm to yourself."

Helfarch considers her gift, "There is a price for power, it would do mortals no harm to learn that lesson from the gods. I'll leave you to your preparations and, again, thank you Ignus--"

"WHY?!"

Ulric nearly screams from Helfarch's shoulder, Helfarch jumps, but Ulric doesn't care.

"What kindof sick bastard would make a bird that can't fly?! What possible reason would a god have for making such tortured abominations?! Gods! Boss, tell me you didn't have a hand in that."

"I didn't have a hand in that."

"You're not just saying that are you?"

Helfarch tries to hide a smile, "No, I'm not just saying that."

"Dear gods, when I get my talons on the bastard that made such miserable creatures I'm gonna wring his--" Ulric begins mumbling incoherently.

Helfarch breaks into a smile and nods to Ignus. "Hopefully when next you hear from me your children's burdens will be lightened."

"And don't make anything like a flightless bird!" Ulric shakes his head in unmitigated disgust.

With that, Helfarch and Ulric leave the temple and make for the shore.

The Shore

"--Seriously, what possible reason could he have for making such poor creatures, a flightless bird, FLIGHTLESS, it's like chopping a human at the waist. Maybe he should've done that, see how THEY like it."

Helfarch had stopped listening ten minutes ago. At the edge of the shore he looked into the sea. His eyes, few secrets could hide from his eyes, in full daylight he could see the void beyond the suns. In night, he could see the cosmic mother and his father's city. At the surface of the ocean, he could see the bottom.

"Boss, are you listening?"

"hrm?"

"I asked what am I going to do while you're down there?"

"You're coming with me of course."

"... Do I look like a duck to you?"

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Mystic, PM incoming.

[Ralasha]

With the last reserves of what remains of her power (until the next Divine Month), Ignus does two things.

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0 AP remaining.
1 AP: Create Concept: Corporimancer, and Priests
2 AP: Create Populace: Pheonixes. A host of Immortal Celestial Fire Birds Soar out from the flames atop her temple, Incorruptible guardians of good and life. Their holy fire a bane to all evil. Type: Elemental. Native Plane: The Transitive Plane of Fire, 1st Layer.

[Lady Tialait]

Under the Challenge Mountain, High Artificer Agni

The magnificent caverns forged in the acquired dragon-fire and the sweat and blood of his kind, this was the plan of the Gods. Agni had other ways to advance the purity of his people. The flesh of Zalasram was easily forged by his race, but what of his divinity? Sure the Gods had blessed his people with dragon-fire, but that was not enough for him.

"Come my people!" he spoke out over a busy crowd who stopped to hear the head of one of the great houses. "The gifts of the Gods are great! We are a truly blessed people, but we are to strive to ascend! We possess the power of dragons, and soon we shall shape the power of divinity itself!"

Cheers echoed at the leader's words. He pulled an axe from his back it sparked as the hilt moved giving off sparks and then caught ablaze he held the creation aloft. "I have harnessed the power of the world! It's divinity is now ours to shape in our image! Why should creation be the sole domain of the Gods? We are purity incarnate! We shall shape the world around us, not only the world's flesh but it's soul! Those who stand against us shall be purified by our hand and our power!"

The crowd was not whipped into a frenzy chanting a single name 'Agni' again and again. For a moment, the High Artificer basked in the praise till he held his hand out to calm the crowd. "Send me twenty men, I shall teach them. They shall be my students, and they will each teach twenty, and so on and so forth till we all know how to purify the soul of the world. By Dragon's fire we have been purified, and by Artifice we shall share our gifts to the very soul of the world!"

The whole of Dwarven culture was abuzz with the words of Agni the High Artificer, and his new art. Even more so, the lack of divinity behind the whole had the faithful having heated debates about the whole thing. Ultimately, Agni was given his twenty. It would take a long time for Agni to teach them, but it was done. They would spread their knowledge on.

---------------------
After his speech he retired to his privet chambers, the shadows crept up and down the walls. The moisture in the air thickened and stepping forward a creature with long sharp legs and a body made of inky oily darkness spoke. "Agni. You have done well." The words reached into the Artificer's soul, he was a puppet to Dred Olg. A single tear dropped from his eye, he had no choice. Artifice would be the way going forward, they would mistake the Visionary's perfection for the purity they looked for.

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Mark of the Chosen: High Artificer Agni
5 - 1 Create Concept (Artificer and Ur-Priest) = 4

[Darklady2831]

Deimos - Mare Exstasim, Halls of the Ornate Beast

The Night Dragon steeled himself, hearing no reply to his hail. He drew a longsword made of shimmering bronze, and gripped his disc shield. "If you shall not come out, then I'm coming in." He said, taking another laboured step through the water. With mighty effort, Deimos walked along the ocean floor, through the oily black waters, and into the gaping maw of the Halls of the Ornate Beast. Soon, he emerged from the waters and into a chamber within the massive structure. Oily dark fluid dripped from the contours of his armour, the only light in the room his eye, a pale imitation of the winter sun. Deimos plunged his longsword into the floor before him, letting it stand on end with the pommel in the air. He placed both hands on the pommel, and waited for an answer to his intrusion.

[mystic1110]

Cassandra and the Peer

The Demon seems impassive

My People will survive as long as other sleep, but the dream sun is a compact between our races. It must be honored and protected.

The images of darkness mean little to a sightless being. Doom even less so - doom was to dissolve back into mud to grasp little dreams as the underwater torrents roared above the ocean bed. The demon would survive. But whereas all other races drempt nightmares, omens of war and whatever triviality the ecstacy demons wrought, the trees and demons had a contract written by Mother Mezzethera - they dream of the sun and the Demons use its fire. The covenant was holy. It was written in salt and oil, penned in nightmare after all.

Point where those who harm these dreams lie, and we shall wake them.

A more terrible judgement could not have been stated.

Halls of the Ornate Beast, Deimos, Smiling Praetor

The Hero god waited in the darkness of the Halls of the Ornate beast - the air had a crisp clean quality to it that was so very different than the oily ocean. His sword sank into marble, sending cracks like spider webs up and down into the shadows beyond. In the distance he hears a clicks that resembled the sound of a sword touching flesh. Those sounds multiplied, until they seemed ceaseless. Then they stopped. The hero god now saw many black masks in the shadows, each of them with two white sightless eyes. One of these masks stepped forward.

The mask was attached to the most beautiful woman the Deimos had ever seen - the softest skin, curves that a poet could write an epic about - the mask itself was adorned with a crown of down feathers. However where the woman's legs would have began, instead they were attached to a monstrous mouth, it grinned at him with teeth and a maw that only promised oblivion. Attached to this mouth were six long slender instectile legs. The terrfying and beautiful creature leaned her crowned face mask towards him until her sightless white eyes where a level with his.

She spoke in his mind - with a voice sounds like claws scratching scabs of a corpse.

Dearest visitor Welcome to our humble halls. (she says as lights, made from dreams of sexual desire flare red and pink illuminating the gardens and palaces in velvet shadows) Tell us what you seek. We exist to please after all.

[Yeshon]

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.

[DukeGod]

Life in the playground grew. The Humans attracted Israken. He should try to help them along later. Now, however, was the time to make things harder...he guessed. He was a God of Glory. So, he resorts to creating monsters. First, he populates the playground with tribal and barbarian humanoids, creating Goblinoids of all types. The Orcs would likely dominate over other kinds of Goblinoids. This race would be governed entirely by their instinct

Now, he creates beasts that are even more powerful. These will be based from animals, and they'd be far rarer. Slaying these should be worth a story for any hero. The terrifying Chimera, formed by combinations of other animals, most often saw as a many headed beast. The Manticores, giant lions with scorpion tails! And Owlbears! Giant bears, with iron like fur, and stone-hard feathers, huge wingspans, with bulging muscles to allow them even to fly!

Ah yes. Now, the mortals would need ways to defend themselves. It seemed many of magic existed, but not enough of fighters like him or some other gods. Mortals who specialized in wielding weapory, getting close and fighting close would now exist. Barbarians already existed yes, but he wanted something more...well taught. Martial. With technique they could chase and claim to be the best, allowing them to call themselves masters!

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Rollover! 7(+3 AP) = 10
10 AP

Create Populace(-2 AP, 8/15)Goblinoids! Orcs, goblins, hobgoblins...We all know them. Sorry if you wanted somethning different, they're gonna be the main enemies here too.

Create Populace(-2 AP, 6/15)Chimeras, Manticores and...OWLBEARS! Yes, Owlbears are now monsters on par with Chimeras and Manticores. These will live in far off places, coming out to hunt.

Create Concept (-1 AP, 5/15)Warriors and Paladins. Mortals are honestly lacking some tanks, so let's give them the most basic classes. The Wariors, who wield several kinds of weaponry, and the Paladins, priests who have taken a martial calling.

[Darklady2831]

Halls of the Ornate Beast, Deimos, Smiling Praetor

The Hero god waited in the darkness of the Halls of the Ornate beast - the air had a crisp clean quality to it that was so very different than the oily ocean. His sword sank into marble, sending cracks like spider webs up and down into the shadows beyond. In the distance he hears a clicks that resembled the sound of a sword touching flesh. Those sounds multiplied, until they seemed ceaseless. Then they stopped. The hero god now saw many black masks in the shadows, each of them with two white sightless eyes. One of these masks stepped forward.

The mask was attached to the most beautiful woman the Deimos had ever seen - the softest skin, curves that a poet could write an epic about - the mask itself was adorned with a crown of down feathers. However where the woman's legs would have began, instead they were attached to a monstrous mouth, it grinned at him with teeth and a maw that only promised oblivion. Attached to this mouth were six long slender instectile legs. The terrfying and beautiful creature leaned her crowned face mask towards him until her sightless white eyes where a level with his.

She spoke in his mind - with a voice sounds like claws scratching scabs of a corpse.

Dearest visitor Welcome to our humble halls. (she says as lights, made from dreams of sexual desire flare red and pink illuminating the gardens and palaces in velvet shadows) Tell us what you seek. We exist to please after all.

Deimos and the Smiling Praetor - Halls of the Ornate Beast

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.

[Alber]

Passaer, The Belly of the Beast

The bowls of the World once again stir after a long period of relative dormancy. Trapped pockets of smoke and ash burst forth and begin rising to the surface all at once. The separate elements all begin to accumulate together as they move towards the surface, faster and faster, until they all hit a series of cracks. They continue to travel, up through the cracks, the narrow passageways being unable to contain the rapidly rising gasses. The gasses pressurize and heat, moving still faster and faster, causing the ground to rumble ominously. Finally, the gasses erupt forth from the canyons of Demiourga, originally formed during the titanic fight that spawned the continent, spewing ash, smoke, and other bits of collected elements into the air in a violent blast.

The collected gasses, rock, and other elements all form into a massive, swirling cloud above the canyons that seems to sit there stubbornly, refusing to dissipate, even as bits of it seem to break off and float through the air to far off places all across the surface of the World. The broken off clouds eventually float down to the surface, where they too continue to linger as a mass of dark grey Miasma. All creatures who breath in the foul substance find themselves afflicted with various maladies, from boils and sores, to misfortune, to madness. Worse still, those infected seem to continue to exhale the strange dark air from their lungs, and are capable of spreading it far from the original mists that spawned it.

At the apex of the swirling cloud, stretching all the way to the Void itself, a creature emerges from the vortex. On delicate, gossamer wings it moves its massive form out of the cloud and into the void, the force of the initial erruption still seeming to propel it, as it shoots out past Oussia, then looping around it and back towards Zalasaram, shooting past it as well and looping around it's underside before finally managing to stop itself. It continued to orbit the stingray, taking stock of it's own newly formed faculties and senses. It could not see the living beings below from it's vantage point...but it could feel them. It could feel the breath of every living thing that drew it, it's slow rises and falls, it's palpitations and irregularities, fast, slow, and with time it could feel what they meant. Desperation, pain, despair, these could all be felt in the simple changes of a creature's breath and Passaer fell in love with it. The feeling of every breath on the planet intermingling with one another formed a symphony in Passaer's head. However, it was slightly off. There were too many flat beats, just normal, steady rising and falling; they overpowered the other parts. He had an urge, a need, to fill the beautiful rhythm with more and more peaks and valleys. For that he would need someone who could touch the world he had been expelled from.

Spoiler

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AP 15 -1 =14: Mold Land: Vortex of Agony: A massive cloud of ash and smoke above the volcanic canyons of Demiourga. Any attempts to travel through this cloud results in infection of the Pestilence action below.

AP 14-1 = 13: Pestilence: Miasma: All across the surface of the Playground are now pockets of stagant, dark grey air. When this air enters the body of a being, that being will be hit with an affliction ranging from painful sores or boils, bad luck, halucinations, pychosis, or depression. The nature of severity of the malady will vary from person to person, but will always be enough to cause the individual at least some amount of suffering. In addition, once the individual begins to show symptoms, they will also begin to visibly emit the same dark air that infected them in the first place. This affliction is contagious if the smoke emitted by those infected is inhaled by, or otherwise enters, another beings body, at which point the cycle continues.

[thethird]

Pernieth, Eucle - The First Tree

Eucle is happy to see that neither of the Gods he has come to appreciate is annoyed by his meddling with their races. When Deimos departs Eucle stays for a little longer. He teaches the Gardeners and learns from them observing them as they create more and better trees. But eventually he missess his own creatures. For far too long he hasn't guided his flock.

Deciding to depart he makes his intention known in the grove. Some of the more adventurous gardeners, those that have contacted with the traders from outside the most are more than willing to join him explorating new lands. Unsure of the wisdom in that the Wealth God instructs the elves and the dryads to ask their patrons for consent, and if given they are free to join the trade companies.

Then with some select fruits and seeds Eucle, the Wealth Dragon departs the first tree.

Eucle, Oxid - Neutral Ground; The Bank

In Eucle's absence the syndicate has been working hard. Their influence had extended and reached far and wide across Zalsaram like veins from a living creature. They connected several bodies and organs, joining the dwarven and kobold keeps with the genasi lands or the elven trees. Travelers and traders from the Syndicate had reached far and wide but if one point was focal to them was the Free City.

At first it had only been a camp, a camp resting by a mountain and the sea. A gathering point on cold nights for the creatures that despite having different patrons had been touched by the call of the wealth God. Then, little by little, more had been gathering there. It wasn't a special place, there were many other such gathering camps, oasis in the travelers route. But when the humans had been orphaned many gathered there. Eucle touch hadn't reached many of them but they found safety in numbers. And when Mezzethera welcomed them on her waters what had been once a camp turned into a port city.

A city simply known as Neutral Ground, the free city, for it paid no strong alliance to any god only holding in regard Eucle, for his followers had made it possible, and Mezzethera for the goddess had given the humans a magnificent gift.

While most of the city inhabitants were orphaned humans Eucle's birth had touched dreams of many races and there were many creatures inside Neutral Ground. Each had shared some of their expertise when it came to constructing it and it was a magnificent feat of dwarven engineering and genasi applied magic. Living ships found home under domes of intrincately carved stone that protected them from the elements and served as a safe port. Deep tunnels digged by kobolds interconnected the different city areas and at the same time served as a complex sewage system. Rust monsters and anhilators, Eucle's creatures, had aided in the construction giving the city straight lines that can only be possible through powerful magic.

Oxid the largest and wealthiest of Eucle's chosen had made it's lair in the city. The Bank, there wasn't any other like it, was at the same time a church dedicated to the Wealth God, a trading house and of course a bank. The wealth within it was uncountable and freely given to anyone adventurous enough to do something of profit with it. Its treasure room served as the lair for the dragons that had been touched by the wealth god and had decided to share their hoards for a bigger purpose. Hundreds of kobold clerks opperated the counters ensuring that the numbers were accurate and as fair as possible

It was there that Eucle landed. But as he did so he shed his dragon gise for a more mundane one. Wearing the form of an old human with grey beard and hair he donned a dark cloak and covered his eyes with a red cloth, hiding the divine and regal shine away, and walked the city as a beggar in one hand carrying the black pot that was filled with the yet to grow seeds that had been gifted to him by the elves and dryads and in the other a cane in the form of a dowsing rod.

[Toxic Mind]

Pernieth, Eucle, Gardeners - The First Tree

With Deimos gone, the elves and dryads who wish to accompany Eucle as Gardeners journey across the First Tree, arriving at the Heart of the Forest. They are met there by a procession of Dryads, and as each walks among the sable bows of the oldest forest on the world, they are given a single seed. Eventually, they come to a clearing, over which presides Pernieth. He gestures with his arms, welcoming them into the grove. After a moment of silence, he peers at their faces, both dryad and elf. He steps aside, and revealed as he moves is a silent oasis, and in the middle, a single white lotus: The Pulse of the Forest.

He looks out at the assembled masses, and says only a single word: "Remember." He exhales, his breath spreading across the clearing, and each mortal gathered there can feel the seed in their hands quicken with life. A future of Heart Trees, each capable of bringing to life an entire forest. Pernieth's gift to his children, that no matter their destination, they might never forget their home, and a promise that their home would never forget them.

[Ralasha]

Ignus
Ignus' Temple, Ravenglass
The Burning Lands

And so it was that those of her people still pure in thought and spirit as she had made them were sent forth into the other world.

Those tainted by the ideas of (meaning from) other gods and people were to be left behind. The concept of wealth, to her is an abomination.

The second City of Ebonglass has been built on the other side of the portal, and those mortals seeking shelter from the troubles to come are issued forth through the gate. Each shall have their own section of the world, for the world is a cube, and there the Elves and Dryads, Dwarves and Kobolds, Humans and Genasi shall live together with Ignus to create a better, more prosperous world free of avarice and strife.

But Ignus does not leave. Not yet.

[Phobia]

Hagatha - The Dark Grove

The bog in which that terrible witch-tree sat was rarely quiet any longer. It teemed with the life of the grand swamp; the thundering croak of a toad would occasionally interrupt the constant symphony of insects that buzzed as chirped in the darkness. Sometimes you could something moving in the water which was likely a croc trying to decide if you're his next meal. The lesser trees watched on quietly most of them still dreaming their little dreams even tho their colors had changed. Even deers and other non-swamp life had returned to this dark and cool place.

A tree lay half-submerged in the bog that had formed near to Hagatha's trunk. She was watching a frog climb out of the water and up the length of it when two Spriggins arrived with a mortal human who had a busted leg between them. Hagatha wasn't surprised, these were her Spriggins after all, her eyes and ears, her hands and feet.

"Disgusting little creature." Hagatha's voice boomed roughly as her the lips on her horrible tree-trunk face twisted into a scornful sneer. "But I do love having visitors. They are so.. Delicious." Hagatha continued and couldn't help but laugh as the color drained from the man's face. He had heard the rumors as all humans who lived near the Dark Grove had.

"I look at you cowering in terror little man and it fills me with glee. Why is that? No one really seems to know." The Weirdwood said contemplativly, it's mouth creaking with the movement. The mortal begain to plead for his life and not to be hurt. "Oh my I do love when you things beg. Please don't hurt me. Think of the loss my family will feel! I do think of it and I only lament that I can't increase their suffering more. Please I'll give you anything! There's nothing that could give me more pleasure than what I'm already taking from you. But please do go on. The desperation in your voice is like honey."

The human started to plead but it quickly degenerated into crying and choking noises before pitiful mewing.

"That was terrible you insignificant piece of filth. The words you're speaking do not even deserve to be recorded. You are nothing and you will die nothing. I have stood ancient since the time of the Great Seeding!" Hagatha roared causing the leaves of other trees to shake and the mortal to flinch. ""Gehehe! Why are being so serious my sweet little man? I love watching the dread spread over your face." The wicked crone continued to snicker before lifting her root to stroke the face of the human.

"Now let me drink your screams!" Hagatha laughed with manic glee before one of the Spriggins holding the man twisted his arm snapping it with an audible crack. The man's scream was deafening in the insulated grove before he broke down into wracking sobs. "Do you think those trees that your people have cut down cried?" The Heart Tree mused out loud before turning angry. "Well, do you? Oh."

Hagatha had to turn her face around the trunk to find the man. It seems the injured mortal was trying to drag himself away with his good arm. She smiled and watched his struggle as he crawled inch by inch hoping for release from this horror. The two Spriggins that had been holding him stood by in their same places passively. The mortal stopped to catch his breath and looked up to see Hagath's terrible face watching him in amusement. The expression on his face was priceless.

"Oh please don't stop on my account. I love your futile struggle for life and an escape from pain. But I know that there is no escaping from pain. You have to live with it." She stabbed him in healthy leg with one of her sharp roots and dragged it down the length of the tissue till she had severed his Achilles' tendon as well. "You must relish that pain! Enjoy it!" She wrapped her root around his broken arm and yanked him to a standing position violently as listened to his neverending screams. "Make that pain yours and give it to others happily." She continued, not even really looking at the man anymore but at her Spriggin.

"That suffering of yours nourishes me. Oh not physically of course, it fills me with such great joy." The forest sprite had taken a rock and now sawed at the mans finger attempting to remove it. "My mouth is watering for your flesh little man. The pain you experienced was the ultimate spice.." She looked at the man quizzically before having her Spriggin smack him across the face.

"So you've passed out from the pain." Hagatha simply stated with disappointment before having the ragged flesh of the mans finger tossed into her waiting mouth. "Than toss him in the corpse pile.."

"And bring me another."

[Toxic Mind]

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.

[Deadlykire]

Kyre Erebus
Kyre felt stronger as it rested from all the creation it had done. As Kyre rested and the power returned, it continued to grow beyond its old levels. Kyre could sense that it was growing to large to step foot on the world again. To do so would destroy the plane. So Kyre sent words to the keepers guarding the gates of Erebus. Death wouldn't walk on the world again, all those that wish to speak must be escorted through the dark lest they get lost forever.

Spoiler

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2 AP
2+3 Rollover
5-3 Raise Caste: Demi->Lesser
2 AP