(IC) Lords of Creation: The Grateful and the Odious (LOC)

[Razade]

Many Meetings in the Hall

The Central Chamber - The Prince of Three Thousand Blossoms

The creature who called themselves by many titles was an intriguing entity. Many-As-One deign to play their game. "We are Many-As-One," They reply, "We are the one and the multitude who placed the stars in the sky, who create fair and balanced arbitrations in times of dispute, who ensure the final rest, and, if they desire it, second birth of lost mortal souls. We are many fragments of one divine soul, but our individuals know not themselves. Such is our way.

"If you come to speak on behalf of your people, you may do so at any time," They continue. "This is a place where all may come to share their grievances, the exact function of this place described. In any case, you may remain as long as you like, however it suits you." As Many-As-One finish speaking, a small throne emerges in the floor directly concurrent with the entrance to the Gloomwild, open to be used as a seat should the Prince desire it.

The Prince looks about, frowning deeper and deeper as the God gave its personal accolades, spoke of souls, spoke of rest. The Prince knew then that this realm was vile and all it stood for anathema to the Elemental chaos from which it sprung. Here before all was decadency and foolishness. The God, whatever form it took, spoke of grievences, spoke as if these words gave it power. Gave it function. How strange that a God would think words were power. Power was power.

The Prince could not express this, a stranger in a strange court but the look of revulsion was difficult to mask. "I thank you for such an offer but a ruler, a true ruler, has no need for a throne. Their throne is their people and their words the will and desires of those that serve beneath them. A Prince needs no petty nobility."

With a flourishing bow, the Prince swept back to the Gloomwilds all while ignoring the chair. It was all so clear. It, and the Gloomwild from which it came from, was the cure to all the rigid and hopeful structures the Gods sought to build. It was decay, but decay so something better could grow. It would drag down civility, it would devour decadence, it would brutalize until only the bucolic remained.

Of Mer and Derro: The Ocean Tribes

Edlyn and Ghita were very far from home. This fact did not bother them overmuch, nor did the fact that they should have reported back nearly ten Dawn-cycles ago. Edlyn, the smart one, had sworn that there was something more out here than empty ocean, and Ghita, his ever impetuous sister, had not questioned that belief. Which had led them here, to a coastline very far from home. Only this coast was not some bare rocky promontory, but a vast island. More importantly, there were people on it. Edlyn and Ghita had watched them for two dawn-cycles now. They were scouts, and their occupation was danger itself, but that did not mean they were recklessly foolish. These people, they discovered, were like Mer, but not Mer. They seemed some blend of the fish-prey and the great ocean predators and Mer, with little rhyme or reason to their composition. Still, they walked on two legs like Mer, spoke like Mer, and had rudimentary dwellings like Mer. A decision was made - the intentions and intelligence of these people must be determined, and if needed, the Mer would be warned. Edlyn would go to the shore while Ghita would watch from afar, ready to escape if needed. There were no illusions about the danger of this course - Edlyn was a capable warrior, and he had both his long-knives and his spear, but there were simply too many of the people. If they were hostile, he would die here. Scouts did not balk in the face of danger, though.

Edlyn emerges from the surf in the dawn when he knew that some, though not all, of the camp would be awake. He holds his spear point down, resting lightly in the sand, and his long-knives are sheathed at the small of his back, just below his dorsal fin, resting against his spine as all Mer's did when they were not swimming. "I am Edlyn, of the Mer," he announces loudly enough to carry across the dawn air. "I do not come to harm or threaten, but to speak. Who among you leads your tribe?"

The Ocean Tribes were different than their neighboring brothers. They didn't work the fields or hunt in the wilds, no, they plied the waves in simple craft and with net and spear fished the oceans and rivers that made up their homelands. Many a Water Derro were among the Ocean Tribes, and many of their chiefs were of powerful predators and cunning hunters. The Mer found themselves at the village of one such fishing village, a sprawling affair with simple dwellings. Some boats were already out at the water when the Mer first came forward, these boats now sitting near the shore ringing the Mer against the assembled tribe upon the shore.

The two had every right to be worried, Derro lined the shores with spear and a host of Vagrants to heel. Even children, or at least much smaller Derro, were present with weapons. These were a hard people to be sure. The small tribe parted when the Mer spoke, a rotund man stepping..or slithering forward on many an octopus's tentacle breaking the crowd. The man was obviously their leader, dressed in pearls and shawls made from eel skin and shark bones. "This one calls itself Tides that Break the Mountains. You are unfamiliar to us, you are not the cat-folk of the plains. Name yourselves, if you come to speak, and step from the waters. We will share haassh and bread in this one's tent."

[Draken]

[Hallowed Catan]

Rocks cut in the manner of the deep caverns and held in place by a mix of mud and pitch gathered from sinkholes were an ancient knowledge, but its origins were not lost to time, as the oldest buildings were a reminder of the origins of this knowledge, the catacombs of the revered dead, and the chambers where morticians prepared them for the long vigil. These were somber places, lit by glowing flowers and kept free of fire so as to keep the moss at bay.

The moss, it gave the caracan strength in the face of adversity, but it was not fond of them for it. Its caretakers were more hostile to the people of Selima than any other among the living. In turn, the rituals of caring for the departed grew more complex. This tribe had taken to extracting the stomach and the intestines and storing those moss-ridden organs in clay jars. There was resistance to this practice at first, some thought it a desecration.

They were quieted, however, when a Hallowed Presence befell the mortuary.

"Well done."

With its aura of conviction and assurance, it guided the blade-wielding hands to cleaner cuts. The potters were emboldened in their craft of jars as it dredged from the depths of their memories stories of the departed. Bolder, indeed, it made them as the caracan returned fire to the mortuary and elected instead to scrape more often the moss that grew faster in its presence, it made them more observant, they reasoned. In no time, theirs were the best techniques to preserve the dead. And the caretakers no longer had to be driven from the hall, they kept distance from the hallowed ground.

"Like so."

But many outside could not agree to this dissection. They could not accept, and when they came, they could not feel the blessed air, only a strange aura and an indescribable whisper.

"They will learn."

It was a small crack that was forming, and moss grew within it.

"It is the will of our gods."

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

[Ilianthos]

The cumbrous mass turned its pseudopod to the sky.

Empyreals.
Troublemakers.
Each and every one.
Every time.

Stars and storms.
Voices in the night.
Meddling things.
Blightsome lords.

The Fortress of Moss shuffles and sinks half into the ground before stopping.

You have my thanks.
As for recompense.
If you have questions. I might have answers.

[RolandDeschain]

Selima, Sisters and Fortress

"I have heard tell that Many as One holds court in his hall above the world, but I have not witnessed this for myself."

Catan - A Homestead

Spoiler: Previously

Show

The camp makes room for Jelu at the fire, many of the warriors moving to prepare food for their guest. A bowl of milk is brought forward, sour and clotted and harsh though the warriors all drink down with vigor before a bowl is poured for the Caracan. Shadow on Snow Peaks offers it, taking the offered hand. "This one has the pleasure meeting you Jelu, please, drink and be comfortable. We must eat before we talk, it is our way. What are your ways, Jelu? Do your mate and little ones eat after?"

Jelu took the bowl of fermented milk and drank, such a drink wasn't unheard of but Jelu had never had the like before so his face twisted into a grimace and he strangled down the urge to cough it up....somehow knowing such a thing would be the height of rudeness. He studied the gathered derro, "Ummm, I thank you for the drink and hospitality. My mate? Oh, no, no....my wife, children, and I all eat together around the table....at the same time. My oldest son and I have been working in the fields all day while my wife has been tending to the little ones, our homestead, and preparing our evening meal."

The simple farmer nervously tugs at the sleeve of his homespun shirt, "Shadow on Snow Peaks....I am going to speak plain truth because it is my way and I mean no disrespect. My heart is pounding and my stomach is churning. I have never met a derro before...in fact, until right now, I did not know of any other people than the caracan and the mer. Would you understand if I send my eldest back to the house for a moment to tell my wife and little ones to eat without me? He will return momentarily with more food and drink? The weather is fair, and we can break bread together under the stars."

Spoiler: Presuming the request is granted....

Show

Jelu stands and goes to speak with his eldest son. Long moments pass before the boy returns with a loaf of dark warm bread, a large wedge of cheese, and a porcelain jug of mead. The boy is about 14 years old and his name is Temo. Jelu shares the food and drink with the derro and will answer any questions they might have about their lives and culture...

Setter Society - Catan

Each year(cycle) there was a great gathering and trade fair where the Siba River emptied into Liku Bay. The mer and caracan from across Catan came together for the Celebration of Ilianthos, feasted, and traded in a wide array of goods. Each year the numbers grew and commerce swelled. The caracan nobility would gather in council to coordinate the exchange of goods and services, provide security, collect taxes, accommodate new vendors of food, drink, and entertainment as well as the growing number of merchants. A handful of permanent buildings and homes soon sprang up, then gave way to a small but bustling town the locals named Kapet. The Noble Council began to meet more regularly issuing codes and regulations for trade as well as authorizing the building of a network of roads and bridges to link the many communities of Settler society to Kapet. Change was slow, but inevitable as Kapet soon became a market hub from which a variety of goods and services flowed. Annual trade-fairs popped up regionally around Catan, which led to the formation of a number of thorps and hamlets linking the trade network together. With markets came small, domestic cottage industries as the feudal agrarian communities grew increasingly interdependent.

It was natural, as well, that as trade within Settler society expanded, so did the demand for mer goods, and so in little town of Kapet the noble council invested money and hired the best carpenters they could find to construct watercraft larger and more seaworthy than the simple fishing rafts and floats that dotted the coastline of Liku Bay. Beyond the bay the currents were strong and the ocean waters untamed, to deal with this the carpenters designed and constructed a twin-hulled craft that sat low in the water and was stable enough not to flip over with each wave. The two hulls extended well below the waterline and were linked together by poles above, then covered in netting....here the cargo was stored, for the caracan set out to find the city of the mer of which they had long heard stories. It was a natural evolution that the Settlers soon learned to employ the power of the wind once clear of the protection of the great bay, and new craft were built with plunging keels and masts for sails.

Spoiler: AP Accounting

Show

Beginning AP = 5AP
Create Organization(1AP) - The Conclave: The feudal lords of Settler society, responsible for laws, trade regulations, and infrastructure projects.[Inspiration(Discovery) 1/10]
Create Concept(1AP) - Infrastructure: Settler society begins to take rudimentary steps away from self-sustaining agrarian fiefdoms to an interconnected market-based economy. [Inspiration(Discovery) 2/10]
Create Concept(1AP) - Shipbuilding: The Settlers of Catan build and develop ocean going Catamarans, each generation of which is larger and more sophisticated. [Inspiration(Discovery) 3/10]

Ending AP = 5AP -1AP -1AP -1AP = 2AP

[The Succubus]

The Great Rat (featuring Selima, Chyron, Janika)

A Regrettable Meal

Flesh! Delicious, juicy flesh!

In this wretched desert the only foods available were disgusting little insects, disgusting little cactus fruits or disgusting little leaves. Yet suddenly, these small brown creatures had appeared near one of the dunes and after some scratching and biting (well, a LOT of scratching and biting) the small group of goblins had managed to kill half a dozen of them. Their soft furry pelts would be useful during the cold desert nights and the flesh, oh, the flesh, had been a sumptuous change from the goblins' normal fare. Maybe tomorrow they would find more of them but for tonight they would sleep content and full.

****

From the crest of a nearby dune, a pair of small brown shapes had been watching the goblins, their small black eyes taking in every detail and watching the humanoids with loathing. One of them started to inch towards the camp when a paw seized a clump of fur and hauled it back. It whipped around to its companion.

"They hunt us. They kill us. They eat us! We must make them suffer!" it hissed.

"They are stronger than us and they can chase us easily. If we attacked now, they would see us and hunt us and more of us would be devoured," The mongoose narrowed its eyes. "We will hunt them down and they will scream...but we must be prepared."

The mongooses slid away unseen.

****

The Scarred One heard the report from the scouts and felt the familiar icy fingers of blind rage. It wandered alone for a while, the relentless heat of the desert sun bearing down on it and if anything, putting The Scarred One in an even fouler mood. Eventually he found some shade below a cluster of boulders and slumped down to think without distractions for a whi-

A sharp hiss from near his paws drew his gaze. A lizard had found a small scorpion and was moving in to bite it. The scorpion was tiny compared to the lizard and would make barely a snack for it. The lizard darted again and in the blink of an eye, the scorpion's tail had struck the lizard's flank. It let out a series of short hisses as its limbs seized up and only a couple of seconds later, the lizard was paralyzed completely. The scorpion scuttled away into a small crack, its opponent beginning to suffocate as the venom flowed into its lungs.

A mirthless toothy grin slowly spread across The Scarred One's face.

****

The goblin chief stirred from sleep, awakened by the movement of some small creature. The green light of the moon bathed the desert in its light, giving the sands an eerie glow. That was odd - there was no sound coming from the camp. Usually the goblins would be chatting or complaining about the food or arguing about something else - yet there was nothing, save the crackle of torches burning. The moonlight faded, hidden beneath some passing cloud. He stepped out from his tent, took a single look and the colour drained from his face.

All of them were dead.

Each goblin lay on the cold sand, horrified expressions on their faces. Blood and entrails poured from gaping wounds near their stomachs, as though someone had been searching inside them for a missing possession. In the time it took for the chief to notice the small skull near each of the goblins, he felt a sharp sting in each of his legs and fell forward onto his knees. Claws dug into the skin on his back as something climbed towards the back of his head.

"You kill our pups and weaklings," a voice hissed. "You saw prey. Now, we see prey."

Unable to move a muscle, the goblin chief could only watch as one by one, each torch was extinguished, plunging the camp into almost total darkness. The moonlight returned just enough to shine off a dozen small pairs of eyes. In the last few moments before the screaming began, the goblin chief realised he had completely lost his appetite.

Spoiler: AP Expenditure:

Show

Create Mundane Concept: Assassination (1 AP): The mongooses have learned that direct confrontation is not always the most effective way to deal with a threat. Their small size and quickness makes them remarkably stealthy and their home has provided them with many useful and unpleasant tools for incapacitating someone.

[RolandDeschain]

Settlers, Catan

As the caracan catamarans plied the oceans, the noble Conclave made further investments in their burgeoning society. Policy disputes were frequent, and it became clear that with each Lord implementing their own interpretation of the law, collection of taxes, and administering justice would weaken the effectiveness of their leadership. The Conclave drafted a resolution that passed with near unanimous consent that a chief minister should be appointed from among the members of the Conclave to carry out uniform policy across Settler society. There were those that were reluctant to grant such authority to one individual, so a compromise was struck by which this position would only serve in that position for six years before stepping down and resuming their seat within the Conclave. Thus the position of Consul was created.

Where villages and towns sprang up around Catan, the Matron Mothers roles became greatly formalized, and funding for Faith Halls were appropriated by the Conclave. The Sisters leading the Matron Mothers in Kapet began to issue edicts of the faith to the Settlers throughout Catan. The First Sister, dedicant of Selima in Kapet was granted the title of Mater and tasked with organization of the faithful.

Chyronic Desert

Vengeance upon the goblin tribe had been sweet, but the lessons of the desert were harsh, so the Scarred One said there would be no waste, that their vengeance would not be a simple act of retribution....no, it would add their survival. The goblin flesh not fouled by poison was cut into strips and dried for food. The hairs were used as thread to sew together the goblin skins that were scrapped, stretched, and cured. The intestines were cleaned and stretched into water skins for what precious water they were able to located. The goblin bones were shaped and sharpened into wicked little daggers and darts. The teeth were hollowed out, fitted with stoppers, and used store the poisons they gathered from the desert scorpions, serpents, and spiders. Yes, the lessons of the desert were harsh, but learn they did. They killed no longer for vengeance, but for survival, one goblin clan providing enough for them to survive for months. They would stalk goblins for days before swarming them and taking them down with stealth, subtly, and poison. Observing the goblin ways, they soon adopted goblin-speak, only slightly altered due to their growling, lispy voices. So it was that the mongooses continued their exodus across the great Chyronic Desert, and their leader, the Scarred One became known as Scardun.

Coming to the great waters, Scardun pronounced, "The She-cat has led us here and has promised us a future of our own building, while the Searing-One has made us strong and cunning, but our journey continues." Pointing to a barren island just visible on the horizon"....there is the next step!" Painstakingly they harvest the great standing cacti just inland from the coastal dunes and hollowed them out to make miniature canoes; the largest being a longboat for Scardun and his lieutenants. They floundered in the waves, capsizing a number of times before grasping the basics of rowing. At no small cost of life, they arrived on the shores of the island, but were dismayed to find it completely devoid of life; blessedly the ocean waters were safe to drink though. They made a great portage across the barren island, collapsing in exhaustion after three days on the southern coast. Scardun granted them but brief respite, for they ate the last of their stores and sat off in their canoes and longboats with the coming of dawn.

Another short crossing brought them to a much larger landmass, but it appeared as desolate and barren as the last, so hugging the coastline they continued rowing eastward. It was dreadful and after nearly six days they were starving when the rounded the coast and rowed southwest. Weak and hungry beyond description, it was then that calamity struck. The skies darkened to a steel grey and a terrible tempest blew up tossing their little boats into deeper waters. They lost sight of the shore and had abandoned any hope of survival when Scardun shouted out, "There! The great Crags! We are delivered!"

The tiny boats were lifted by the waves and deposited heavily upon the rocky and rugged coast of an island of towering rock spires covered in vines and tropical growth. A heavy fog hung between the spires that rose immediately from the coastal waters of the island they would name their home.....The Crags.

Spoiler: artwork "Scardun"

Show

Spoiler: artwork "The Crags"

Show

Spoiler: AP Accounting

Show

Beginning AP 2AP + 4AP(rollover) + 1 PAP
Raise Hero(2AP) - Consul of Catan: The elected leader of the Conclave, commander of Settler military forces, Head of State, and Chief Executive of Settler society.[Inspiration(Discovery) 5/10]
Raise Hero(1AP+ 1PAP) - Mater: The First Sister, Sister of Life and leader of the faithful, and head of the church in Settler society. [Inspiration(Discovery) 6/10]
Alter Land(1AP) - The Crags: A smallish island located directly north of Catan. The entire landmass is comprised of soaring limestone spires of rock, dotted with thick vegetation anywhere the plants and trees can find purchase. [Inspiration(Discovery) 7/10]
Ending AP = 6AP + 1PAP - 4AP - 1 PAP = 2AP

[ChaoticHarmony]

Looloodi:Hiding

Such a disgusting creature! Looloodi has been hiding behind her Sisters, horrified at the hideous abomination that gurgled to life in front of them. And the worse part? It was talking to them! How could she just make it go away while her Sissies conversed? That would be horribly rude. She really needs to do something about beasts like this, maybe make a new race dedicated to spreading beauty and eradicating such decay and filth? Thankfully Janika seemed to know what it wanted, so it was preparing to leave. Looloodi turns back to the oozing beast, now watching it intently to make sure it didn't pollute her island as it left.

As the sludge turned back towards the Goddesses, to offer compensation, Looloodi takes notice of something she missed before. Patches of Moss seeming to bubble up from its oily surface. How strange to see such a thing.......images suddenly flash across Looloodi's eyes as a vague memory comes to the surface. Worlds beginning and ending, flashes of war torn lands and strange structures, of a giant butterfly flying over a planet, of a mysterious Pillar. And words, not many, not all that was said, she was certain, but these ones struck clearest.

The Stone was the first, promises made before words were spoken.
The Ruins are always last, the bones of a silent world.

The Moss always Remembers

Before she has time to think, Looloodi speaks to the Oil Baron, to the Moss in a way only another plant could understand. "What does the Moss remember? When will the Ruins arrive?"

Spoiler: AP Usage

Show

Started with 2/16 AP 0/1 PAP

Rollover +4 AP +1 PAP

Ended with 6/16 AP 1/1 PAP

[Draken]

[Ilianthos]

The Fortress of Moss bubbles once.

The future is not mine to share. Stone has the ears of prophets.
I keep the nooses they receive when their truths turn to deception.
Death comes. Ruin comes. Sleep comes. It is inevitable.
Worlds die and come reborn, together with their pantheons if we are fortuitous.

I remember.
A great and terrible gate to the infinity outside, silent and shut now.
Your ancestors. To the very first. A golden prince, a black hulk.
Feral depravity.
Conflict without sides.
Emptiness in fulfillment.
Brass and lightning and faith.
A warlord's kindness.

I remember.
Everything.

[Razade]

Catan - A Homestead

The warriors watch as Jelu drinks the fermented drink down, a look exchanged between them before they return to work. "Then they must eat with us, our families eat together, you should not be away from them. My people would feel as if they insulted you. Your family have no need for fear, a Derro cannot bring harm to one who drinks at their fire and breaks bread with them." The Derro's tone is hard, but earnest and honest.

Another look is exchanged as Jelu opens up to the warriors, particularly at the word "mer". It was one they obviously didn't recognize and the offer to have one of his sons leave clearly sent a ripple of distrust among the small camp.

"He means to bring more men, we must take them both now." the other Brook Rider spoke, tones low like the crackling of a fireplace as they spoke in their own tongue.

Shadow on Snow Peaks shook his head quickly, glancing to the other nine. "No...look about. This one lives only with his family." Speaking in Derro obviously pained them, eying Jelu almost apologetically. "They do not speak your language as well as your Shadow on Snow Peaks. A few of your peoples...the hunters...we have made contact with them. Several dwelt in our camps during the dark times, we told many stories around the flames." he explained once more in Catan.

"Surely you'll not let the child go Shadow." The first Skull Breather spoke even as he pulled free their ulgout from their tents. Ulgout was a staple in their cuisine and on the trails and paths warriors walked. Chilies, salt and Elemental Flames were packed deep in clay jugs and stored in dark places. Cabbage and dark beans would be added a week later and this would sit in the sun with salt and Elemental Earth for months. Ulgout produced za'vat, a dark and rich sauce used to flavor sour meat and fish. Za'vat made even near rancid foods tolerable and safe.

"No...this one will go with them." Shadow on Snow Peaks assured. "This one will bring them some of our spices. Surely their cooks will find use for them. We must show them we are friends. Remain here. If this one does not return by mid-light...burn this place and return. Take the little ones home, we will learn of their ways one way or the other." It was dishonorable to even speak of such, more so without the poor farmer the wiser in their strange speech but Shadow on Snow Peaks had no will to die in foreign lands.

The ten nodded before Shadow on Snow Peaks stands, offering an arm to the nervous Catan. "This one will be plain with you as well" he speaks once more in the Catan's language. "My people will not let you or your child leave alone. You are afraid but we are here in friendship. This one will travel with you to your home and help you bring food back. Along with your family." Shadow on Snow Peaks glances back to their camp before motioning to a bag. They hoped it was enough, a display of trust such as that. They'd be alone, Jelu would have all the power and all the numbers. They were the leader of the traveling band, surely Jelu would see this for what it was. A sign of trust.

"This one has many things, your mate might find them useful." The bag is brought forward and within various roots and barks are assembled along with coarse and dark salt, canes of sugar plants, seeds of various plants. The aroma is a blend, powerful and enticing. "We Derro use these in our cooking. We would offer them to you, for information and passage to your Chief."

Spoiler

Show

Shadow on Snow Peaks won't budge on this but if Jelu is willing, the Derro is nothing but helpful and patiant and friendly in their weird savage way. They'd ask questions, mostly of the Mer and what the Chiefs of the Catan are like and how long a journey to them would take. They'd also be happy for any food shared and they'd keep to their word about no harm coming to the rest of the family. After all, they're on a good will mission.

Chalice: The Brambles

In the Engraved Planes the Stone sat dreaming as Stones do. Visions of a giant flying stone, kangaroo creatures with gliders and wonderous crafts. It dreamed of the stone sinking into the ocean and the greenery on the mountains fell to ruin.. It dreamed of the vast Chalice where a Goddess sank herself in beauty. It saw that beauty and the grand writings pulsed. It was of no good, Sloth and so gardens began to grow fallow.Gardens are wonderful so long as they're maintained and while small, all around Chalice some gardens and ponds grew wild. Thick spiny vines erupted from pots and waters overgrew with lichens and mosses and duckweeds. But like the plane itself, there was beauty in this wild and hazerdous place, the Brambles bloomed with roses and flowers of Elemental Hues. Vagrants made their homes in the waters, docile and with fins and scales like gems. Some would say that the Vagrants of Chalice had the most delicious meats, their scales prized for jewelry. The dreams change, as dreams do, the smell of iron and oil drifting into the Garden and out to the Labyrinthine Palace.

Pompeius, the Labyrinthine Palace: Verdant Ends

The dream took with it petals of fragrant flowers and grasses, and in the gears and accumulated mire in pieces left forgotten they took root. The greenery swelled with a force and a mind of its own and the dream was verdant. Here too the dreams of decay lingered, the Stone's shadow cast on the planar underpinnings of Creation .All puzzles have traps, at least the best ones do. Gears slow over time, metals rust and time causes precise measurements to become unaligned. In rooms across Pompeius life sprung new and fresh, organic puzzles that would shift and move around those who fell into the Verdant Ends. It was said that as long as you followed the left side you'd always find your way, but the plants were knowledgeable and sought to grow out from their rooms into others.

Spoiler: AP Actions

Show

Create Mundane Concept (1AP) - Spices: The lands of the Derro grow particularly fragrant and numerous spices that they use to both cultivate fermented foods and to stave off, or more commonly mask, the taste of old food. Spices are a currency to the Derro, the most expensive being salt from the Ocean Tribes. [Nature (Decay) 5/10]

Create Mundane Concept (1AP) - Elemental Preservation: Along with spices and other methods of preservation and masking the taste of rotten or near rotting food, the Derro are particular good at using the natural and abundant Elements of their homeland to further enhance and preserve [Nature (Decay) 6/10]

Alter Land (1AP) - The Brambles: Fallow gardens are often overgrown with weeds, no matter how beautiful. Some gardens on Chalice are more wild and dangerous than others, inhabited by docile Vagrants brought by disrepair. [Nature (Decay) 7/10]

Alter Land (1AP) - Verdant Ends: Pompeious's many trials are not all in good faith, forests of vines and tactile plants moving to trap and confound those on their path to a second life. [Nature (Decay) 8/10]

1AP - 1AP - 1AP - 1AP = 0AP

[GSisco]

Nasigune: Tenants in Laboratories

When they had gathered all the knowledge they could, without touching anything. They decided to leave.

"My chosen. It is time I repay you, with a gift. Turn to my new chapter and lay me on the ground."

And Reaper-Of-Souls did as he was told. And there was a flash of light and he knew that his master's power had been unleashed, just as it had been when he was raised. And then there was a chalice, sitting atop the open pages. It was identical to the one on the cover of the Book-Of-Souls. Slowly, he picked it up and his master spoke to him again.

"This is the tool you shall use to fill the world with beasts of my influence. It shall give you power, so long as you continue to give me power. Now fill it with blood."

Slicing his palm with his nails, Reaper-Of-Souls did as he was bid. Once the chalice was filled, he watched as a spider lowered itself from the ceiling into the cup. He began to pull the chalice away, to avoid tainting it but then he saw the text in the book which still lay open.

"Wait. Watch."

So it was that the spider landed in the blood. Surely it would drown as it disappeared beneath the surface. But as Reaper-Of-Souls watched, it climbed out and leapt from the side. It began to grow. By the time it touched the ground, it was the size of a squirrel.

The new creature then looked at him expectantly.

"Give it gold. Wait. Watch."

Taking the piece of gold, his master had just conjured, he gave it to the spider, which ate it and then began to crawl away. It crawled into a corner in the rear of the laboratory and created its web, as all spiders would do. The glitter of gold replacing the normal glint of a spiders silk.

"Now let us go. Leave this as a gift to reward the one who has given us this knowledge."

And they went.

Spoiler: AP

Show

Starting AP 5+4 Rollover.

Create Minor Artifact: The Blood Chalice - The chalice is a replica of the one on the cover of Nasigune. With an offering of blood, it can create monstrous life. *Using Charge of the Index of Creation*
- Dungeons (Loot) 10/10

Create Monstrous Life: Weavers - The weavers are a species of massive, magical spiders. Whatever they first eat, their webs will be spun of that material. *Using Charge of The Blood Chalice*
-No Domain Contribution

Final AP: 7

Domain Gained: Dungeons (Loot)
-Alter Land: First Dungeon 1
-Bless: Dungeons to draw monstrous life 1
-Curse: Dungeons with Traps 1
-Create Major Artifact: Index of Creation 5
-Create Minor Artifact: The Blood Chalice 2

[RolandDeschain]

Selima, Sisters and Fortress

Spoiler: Previously

Show

[Ilianthos]

The Fortress of Moss bubbles once.

The future is not mine to share. Stone has the ears of prophets.
I keep the nooses they receive when their truths turn to deception.
Death comes. Ruin comes. Sleep comes. It is inevitable.
Worlds die and come reborn, together with their pantheons if we are fortuitous.

I remember.
A great and terrible gate to the infinity outside, silent and shut now.
Your ancestors. To the very first. A golden prince, a black hulk.
Feral depravity.
Conflict without sides.
Emptiness in fulfillment.
Brass and lightning and faith.
A warlord's kindness.

I remember.
Everything.

She nearly drown under waves of melancholy and remorse imparted by the words of moss. Memories beyond her reach brushed across her mind...memories of elation and exaltation crumbling into the ruins of forlorn despair...ancient and forgotten. One word hammered over and over in her mind...inevitable, inevitable, inevitable.

Her first meeting with Marah suddenly came unbidden to her mind, when they had stood together in the valley of stone. She recalled then how she had been liberated from doubt, how she had been steeled in her resolve, and her turquoise eyes gleamed in Ilianthos' light.

"Either the truth is hidden in your words, or your words hide the truth. All may have been as you say and so it may be again. I do not know. For my part, and in my time I will feel, I will believe, and I will act. To do otherwise would be empty; an existence devoid of meaning. The regrets of tomorrow and what might be will not rob from me that which is today."

To her Sisters, Selima gives each of them in turn a hug, "I go. If you have need," she lightly touches the turquoise gem on her bracelet, "merely speak my name and I shall answer."

[ChaoticHarmony]

Spoiler: Previously

Show

[Ilianthos]

The Fortress of Moss bubbles once.

The future is not mine to share. Stone has the ears of prophets.
I keep the nooses they receive when their truths turn to deception.
Death comes. Ruin comes. Sleep comes. It is inevitable.
Worlds die and come reborn, together with their pantheons if we are fortuitous.

I remember.
A great and terrible gate to the infinity outside, silent and shut now.
Your ancestors. To the very first. A golden prince, a black hulk.
Feral depravity.
Conflict without sides.
Emptiness in fulfillment.
Brass and lightning and faith.
A warlord's kindness.

I remember.
Everything.

Looloodi's eyes widen at the things words. "You.........you're, like, the Moss......You're gonna, like, make this world ugly and decay! You and the Stone! Why must the world, like, be in ruin to be reborn? Why can't it end in Beauty?" Looloodi's face turns a bright red in anger and horror. This wretched creature before her, it could remember so much, it could be the best, most beautiful thing of any past world. It could be an inspiration to all Gods to harmonize and be better than any of their supposed ancestors. But no, it chooses to take such a hideous form, the kind of form that no one but those of hideous minds and bodies would ever want to associate with.

"Leave......Leave now. Like, get away from me and my Tree now! I will not, like, let this World be like the others I saw. If the end is, like, totally inevitable, then it shall, like, be in beauty and peace!" Five thorns from Looloodi's root drops to the ground in front of her, piercing deep into the dirt and moss. New sound escapes past the lips of the Beautious Bloom, but instead of words, one could easily misinterpret it as leaves rustling in the wind. Supple vines of various colors suddenly entangle the crystal thorns, wrapping the Looloodite as various blooms burst across them. With another word, this one sounding as twigs underfoot, the gems begin to take new shape. Each one begins to shrink down, until they are all about the same size as the disgusting intruder. Gracefully, each crystal twist and bends until the supple, delicate form of a humanoid female is taken, the vines tastefully covering the otherwise bare gems in sensual design. A final, soft word passes through the lips of Looloodi, this one sounding as a sprout bursting from the ground for the first time. Suddenly, the vines flowers burst into a torrent of petals, thousands dancing rapidly around the five beings before gently landing on their surface, till it appears as nothing but soft, smooth skin. The five new mortals stare at the oily beast, purpose and secret knowledge burning in their eyes. Looloodi looked upon her new babies with joy, knowing there will soon be more to join their cause.

Spoiler: AP Usage

Show

Started with 6/16 AP 1/1 PAP

Create Sapient Race(2): Verdants
This race of delicate humanoid plants is the most favored of the Goddess, Looloodi. No two Verdant look exactly alike, their skin and vines being of various colors and designs, the only commonality between them is their unearthly beauty. While the Verdants appear to be exclusively female, they are actually in fact Intersexual, and thus are able to properly mate with any other Verdant(or any other lucky race) they meet. Fiercely protective of Nature, most Verdants use their natural born gift of Druidspeak to protect their territory from those who would desecrate its beauty. Those who find themselves in pleasant standing with a Verdant can expect peaceful travels through their homes, laden with the best quality fruits, and may even find them waiting in bed for a moment of passion.[Using towards Life(Rebirth)]

Create Sub-race(1): Plantborn
Made from the coupling of a Verdant and another race, Plantborn are almost indistinguishable from their non-Verdant parent. One can only tell a Plantborn from a regular member of their race by three distinct traits. 1: Their eyes are always emerald green. 2: They always smell inexplicably like fresh cut flowers, no matter what. 3: They are almost always considered to be one of the most attractive members of their race one has ever seen. While Verdant blood runs in their veins, Plantborn are not gifted with full Druidspeak, but are able to understand it when they hear it.[Using Towards Life(Rebirth)]

Curse(1): Rite of Nature, Venom's Revenge
With the birth of Verdants, Druidspeak can now be taught to those who wish to see Nature and Beauty flourish. This is done via a special rite where the student pledges themself to the protection of Nature, promising to use their newfound control of plants to defend Life from any who would willfully desecrate it, and strive to make their and others lives more Beautiful. Those that break these promises shall first find themselves unable to remember the magic of Druidspeak. This is followed by the declination of their mental functions over the span of a year(when they share the same mental ability as forest animals). Over the next year, they slowly lose control over their body(It stiffening to the point of being unable to move). And then finally, them instantly turning into a tree.[Using towards Nature(Poison)]

Create Organization(1): B.E.A.M (Beings Excruciatingly Against Moss)
This Organization was founded by the first 5 Verdants of Ilianthos. They are dedicated to the eradication/containment of the creeping Moss, and the disgusting creatures that it spawns. It is believed that this Moss's purpose is to cause the death and eventual decay of the World, bringing everything to hideous Ruin. B.E.A.M's is to not only prevent this, but to also spread beauty and joy across the land, so that if the World one day does come to an end, the end may at least be a happy one.[Using Towards Light(Purity)]

Domains:
Nature(Plants)
Earth(Gems)
Life(Beauty)
Nature(Poison) 4/10
Life(Rebirth) 10/10 NEW DOMAIN
Light(Purity) 3/10

Create Mystical Concept: Druidspeak(4), Create Major Artifact: Sunstone Chain(2), Join Pantheon: Sororitas(1), Create Sapient Life: Verdant(2), Create Sub-race: Plantborn(1)

Ended with 1/16 AP 1/1 PAP

[Draken]

[Ilianthos]

The Fortress of Moss bubbles.

I shall answer your request.
Should you have questions, I am beneath.

The numinous presence of the Fortress of Moss... Sinks into the ground, before dispersing back into the world. Leaving behind the pile of oil it was inhabiting.

Which promptly trembles. Stretching its pseudopods and iterating in attempts to form a more relatable visage, the first few attempts are gruesome. But eventually the Oil baron manages to form an humanoid torso, somewhat between halfling and mer, but significantly larger.

"Ah... Ah... Release. Let none envy the experience of possession. Ah..."

The Oil Baron looks at the goddess and the verdants. All of its form is eyes and ears, but it does turn for appearances.

"... Greetings? I am Dunsmuir."

[RolandDeschain]

Catan, a Settler Homestead

Jelu was instantly on his guard when the Derro began speaking in their strange tongue, and when they insisted that his son not leave he grew increasingly worried about his family's safety.....no, if they meant harm they would have looted the homestead and killed everyone while Temo and I were away.

When Shadow offered to return to the farmhouse with him, he recognized the trepidation the others must have felt after all he was making himself vulnerable by exposing himself like that. Surely that had been what the heated exchange had been about....or they could have been planning on how to attack the farm house with their leader inside.

Accepting the bag of spices, Jelu nods, opens the drawstring and sniffs the contents....the aroma was sharp but also pleasant. With a look at his son, "Come, I'll introduce you to my wife and children."

Jelu takes Shadow into his simple wood framed home, where introductions were made and the prepared meal was gathered before returning to the Derro camp. Kai'a shared many anxious looks with husband, but was a gracious host and shared out the food on the simple wooden dinner ware. She took a keen interest in the spices, sampling some, and allowing the children to test the strong aroma.

Jelu tried to explain to Shadow what it was to be a tenant farmer, and described his complex economic relationship with Lord Damu. Jelu had met one of the mer at last year's Celebration of Ilianthos, but knew little of their culture. He promised to take Shadow on Snow Peaks to meet Lord Damu in the morning.

[bc56]

Pompeius: Invasion

In the Hall of the Titans, Tenebreon tilted his head as if listening to some far-off scream. "Something is wrong." In a sudden absence of light, he is gone, his cloak folding in on itself like the most complicated piece of origami ever created. His flight was rather careless after that, leaving a contrail of darkness in his wake.

And he arrived at Pompeius. Something was wrong. Very wrong. The chamber which contained the wrongness was a horrid green color. Someone had planted a garden in his palace. Not a decorative grotto, like he preferred, all raked stones and still ponds with a waterfall in the background, but a jungle, thick with plants that seemed to be reaching out to grab at him.
He checked the room, recalling its nature on his blueprints.
Then he checked again.
There shouldn't even be plants growing there. It was a pitch-dark cave chamber, intended for quiet meditation. There was no light for the plants to feed off. Someone has been meddling in his domain.
Tenebreon zoomed out, viewing the labyrinth as a whole, finding the gears which had been afflicted by this green plague. With delicate care, he plucked them from their housings and with significantly less care and a lot more vehemence, he hurled them into the interplanar void. He could make duplicates, he never threw away a blueprint. And he's been meaning to try out some metalworking on it anyway.

Spoiler: AP expenditure

Show

Start: 9/16
Counter Alter Land (verdant ends): Scheduled Maintenance. [??? 2/10]
Tenebreon regularly replaces worn-out or infested chambers of Pompeius with exact duplicates built from the original blueprints. The damaged room-gears are flung through the void between worlds, never to be seen again...
Bless: Castoff Chambers [Society (ingenuity) 10/10]
...until they crash into something else. The chambers, looking like gears the size of small houses or large rooms, could end up anywhere: on the First World, in any one of the other Planes, or just floating in the middle of Nowhere. If one can solve the puzzles within and overcome the growth that caused it to be discarded, they can claim some of the treasures of Pompeius as their own
Remaining AP: 6/16
Domain Gained: Society (ingenuity)
- Form Society: The Scholars of Stone [2]
- Weave Plane: Pompeius [4]
- Curse: Obsidian Vulnerability [1]
- Create Concept: Archery [1]
- Teach Concept: Archery [1]
- Bless: Castoff Chambers [1]

[Toxic Mind]

[The Mer Prophet]
The mer man quakes on his feet and lays his hands against the sand, breathing heavily. A Foreboding Presence hangs heavily in the waters. Drawing the eyes and ears of priests and pilgrims who would usually disregard the mad mutterings of a doomsayer before the basalt idol.

It did not take long at all for a response. After all, this was the temple district, most frequented and populous of any place within the city of Adiran save the Tidal Palace itself. It was a priest of Selima who came up with the solution, though it was the priests of Mamona who first brought the problem to light claiming that if the magics didn't stop they would have the stone moved - it was disrupting their beauty sleep. So it was that Caulin, Priest of Selima, stood before the stone. He knew that something was there, but he could not see it, only sense it. "Speak, if you can. If you cannot, then we will Sing until you can, and do. Explain your presence in our city, in this place." He had no idea of the strange symmetry of his words.

The Ocean Tribes were different than their neighboring brothers. They didn't work the fields or hunt in the wilds, no, they plied the waves in simple craft and with net and spear fished the oceans and rivers that made up their homelands. Many a Water Derro were among the Ocean Tribes, and many of their chiefs were of powerful predators and cunning hunters. The Mer found themselves at the village of one such fishing village, a sprawling affair with simple dwellings. Some boats were already out at the water when the Mer first came forward, these boats now sitting near the shore ringing the Mer against the assembled tribe upon the shore.

The two had every right to be worried, Derro lined the shores with spear and a host of Vagrants to heel. Even children, or at least much smaller Derro, were present with weapons. These were a hard people to be sure. The small tribe parted when the Mer spoke, a rotund man stepping..or slithering forward on many an octopus's tentacle breaking the crowd. The man was obviously their leader, dressed in pearls and shawls made from eel skin and shark bones. "This one calls itself Tides that Break the Mountains. You are unfamiliar to us, you are not the cat-folk of the plains. Name yourselves, if you come to speak, and step from the waters. We will share haassh and bread in this one's tent."

"As I said, I am Edlyn, of the Mer. That is my name, and my people." That they had noticed Ghita was regrettable, but not surprising he supposed; these were ocean folk after all. He motioned her over, and she dove beneath the outlying boats. In a single powerful stroke she reached the shore. Showoff, he thought to himself. "We come on behalf of her majesty, Queen Adira, to discover new lands and peoples, and establish trade and communications." He explains as he follows Tides that Break the Mountains to his dwelling. Both Edlyn and Ghita were slower on land than in the water, but not much slower than the people surrounding them. Mer Scouts trained to work on land as well as in their native environment. As they enter the tent and seat themselves, Ghita is the first to ask "Who are you? I mean, what do you call yourselves?"

Marah: Petals on the Waves

The Ocean Goddess had been listening, taking it all in, but now it was time to go. "Sisters I have no interest in speaking to a lackey of the Moss that kills my people. If it says something interesting, be sure to tell me. I must return to the Mer for a time. But before I go..." she places a piece of the power that bins them together into the light at the peak of Ilianthos.
Then, without another word, she is gone.

Spoiler: AP

Show

Starting: 5/16 AP 1/1 PAP
-1PAP: Contribute to Weave Plane Action Sphere (Light) +1
Ending: 5/16 AP 0/1 PAP

[TheDarkDM]

Nemesis

In answer to the reptilian mass in Magog's hand, Nemesis rose to loom over his son.

"You should show more courtesy when enjoying the fruits of my domain, creature. You address Magog, greatest of my children - I am the creator here. We shall see what wisdom you chose to impart."

The titan's mangled hand shot out towards one of the giants groveling at his feet, lifting the mortal up to float before his burning eyes. Face contorting in blissful agony, the giant's body began to flake into ash as it burned from the inside, leaving nothing behind but a black cloud on the wind. Nemesis's eye followed the swirling ash as it vanished towards the horizon, but his words were for Enkidan.

"So you bless my children with will and wantonness in equal measure. A curious gift."

The earth trembled, but Nemesis remained still.

"But a gift nonetheless. Count yourself lucky that your meddling did no damage to their obedience - it would have angered me greatly to scour them from Karam-Kor."

His head swiveled back towards Enkidan, and though his face was unreadable Nemesis's eyes flickered in contemplation.

"The food and lodging you claimed are mine to grant, creature. Even now, I feel new life burrowing into the flesh of my mountain, doubtless another of your gifts. If you seek to shelter in my embrace, I would have your name, and proof of your intent."

[Tychris1]

”Wow this Nemesis really likes to talk.” Enkidan thought to itself as the Forge God did his dramatics. “Maybe I can sleep between sentences? No he’s going to ask me a question I need to answer eventually.” It didn’t feel its golden coin eye drip and fall down a lofty height though even if Enkidan had it doubtless wouldn’t have cared. Through sheer coincidence it casually looked down and around the other side of Magog’s hand towards the earth below. “Maybe a drop this high will kill me and send me to a comfier place.” Worming around the Giant King’s grasp, Enkidan found no respite, and instead began to lose shape and become a strange blob like entity in the calloused hand.

“I am Enkidan,” The Festering Fiend declared “And I don’t know how I can show you my intent. You have seen the fruit of my presence. Would you have me call one of the things I spewed forth only recently? Or I could show you my place of birth, only a stone’s throw from here, and as much my right as yours. I offer you no ill will. Only words and my own inaction. In truth I rather enjoy your creations and the things they make. Very tasty-erm-tasteful.”

The oily sludge of burning divinity belched forth a long stream of flames. Coruscating face withering jets of fire the likes of which seen on the climax of a volcano emitted from that gaping maw for three uninterrupted seconds. Head upturned towards the sky the display struck none and disappeared as soon as it came with Enkidan casually looking at the two Gods with a single coal eye.

Spoiler: AP

Show

6 AP

Rollover +4 AP

10 AP.

[Razade]

Catan, a Settler Homestead

Jelu was instantly on his guard when the Derro began speaking in their strange tongue, and when they insisted that his son not leave he grew increasingly worried about his family's safety.....no, if they meant harm they would have looted the homestead and killed everyone while Temo and I were away.

When Shadow offered to return to the farmhouse with him, he recognized the trepidation the others must have felt after all he was making himself vulnerable by exposing himself like that. Surely that had been what the heated exchange had been about....or they could have been planning on how to attack the farm house with their leader inside.

Accepting the bag of spices, Jelu nods, opens the drawstring and sniffs the contents....the aroma was sharp but also pleasant. With a look at his son, "Come, I'll introduce you to my wife and children."

Jelu takes Shadow into his simple wood framed home, where introductions were made and the prepared meal was gathered before returning to the Derro camp. Kai'a shared many anxious looks with husband, but was a gracious host and shared out the food on the simple wooden dinner ware. She took a keen interest in the spices, sampling some, and allowing the children to test the strong aroma.

Jelu tried to explain to Shadow what it was to be a tenant farmer, and described his complex economic relationship with Lord Damu. Jelu had met one of the mer at last year's Celebration of Ilianthos, but knew little of their culture. He promised to take Shadow on Snow Peaks to meet Lord Damu in the morning.

Shadow on Snow Peaks walks with the boy and his father, hands ever present just in case they might think they have a weapon or might do them harm. They are courteous and even mannered to Kai'a and are happy to go into great detail just what and where the spices might be found and the variety of ailments and dishes they might be used in. Shadow on Snow Peaks seems to have quite the love of anise, a licorice flavored star shaped pod. The stew the family and their host return to has many of them boiling in the large pots the Derro use for cooking.

The other Derro are anxious at first though by evening's end most have warned to the Catan and their children, singing and drinking long until the fires burn to cinders. Shadow on Snow Peaks throughout grasps only a little. Trade, income, ownership of land and a great many concepts seeming a bit too outside the Derro's mind. Shadow on Snow Peaks is happy to share of their people too. The Derro worship their dead, ancestors are revered and there is a mountain only chiefs may be buried on. The trade of spices and mates seem to make up the majority of extra-Tribal income and the chiefs lead their tribe with absolute authority. Land belongs to the tribe, hunting is to be done by all warriors in times of peace and the harvest is for Vai hands. Cooking and tending their communal fires seems to be a unisex task shared between family units. All ten have a great interest in tales of the Mer but seem to truly have no idea that such a people exist.

By the time the fires have burned out, Shadow on Snow Peaks has promised to wait until morning and a meeting with this "Lord" Damu can be done.

"As I said, I am Edlyn, of the Mer. That is my name, and my people." That they had noticed Ghita was regrettable, but not surprising he supposed; these were ocean folk after all. He motioned her over, and she dove beneath the outlying boats. In a single powerful stroke she reached the shore. Showoff, he thought to himself. "We come on behalf of her majesty, Queen Adira, to discover new lands and peoples, and establish trade and communications." He explains as he follows Tides that Break the Mountains to his dwelling. Both Edlyn and Ghita were slower on land than in the water, but not much slower than the people surrounding them. Mer Scouts trained to work on land as well as in their native environment. As they enter the tent and seat themselves, Ghita is the first to ask "Who are you? I mean, what do you call yourselves?"

The tribe parts for the Mer and their chief, the center dominated by colorful tents obviously owned by the tentacled leader. The insides are cool, dark, and smokey with many small fires being tended to by a number of young Fey. Fermented milk, the haash, and bread and salt are passed about until all are settled. "The Mer are not shy, yes?" Tides that Break the Mountains contemplates, a tentacle grabbing a poker to stir the flames they sit before.

"We are the Derro, our tribe you see is one of many. We are the Tide Graspers, we were born of the Cliff Screams who themselves claimed to be born from the first of our people who awoke in these valleys and mountains. The Derro are merely the Derro. What of you, Ghita and Edlyn of the Mer? You speak of Queens and travel. What can you tell us of yourselves. What more would you like to know of us. We Derro are simple, we grow our food and hunt. We remember the Old Ways, we live by them."

[Deja Who?]

Janika the Neverfail at the Tree

The goddess that looked like an orc wondered if she had done well enough by telling this creature of moss where to find the bird beastie, but it wasn’t really a concern of hers. Though she had no love for the moss it did provide a source of danger and adventure for her mortals to contend with. But in truth the moss and it’s zombies disgusted her.

She took a step forward threateningly as things became heated between the god of moss and Looloodi, silently supporting her. It took her out of things for a second when the Verdant were made. A race of many possibilities.

“Leave this place.” Janika warned the remnant of moss that remained. Perhaps when this was all over she’d go visit that star above and question the bird about her enemy.

Janika offered Selima a supportive nod as she left. Now where was she off to?

“Marah.” The Lord of Murder said smugly, her voice clearly speaking of her intent to annoy. “Have you seen? These mortals threaten to tame your seas. Even my goblins.” She continued, walking after and joining Marah where ever she went.

Spoiler

Show

AP: 5
PAP: 1

[mystic1110]

Words with the Wind

Spoiler: Previously

Show

Words with the Wind

Eniym looked at the drunk Archons, the Lichen-Liches, and the Fungal Angels. A strange family, but then again - which family was normal? What was this wind to her? She called it Kin, called it friend, but it was not her friend really - a friend would imply, and let's use the metaphor of two slats of wood balanced at an angle such that they only stay upright through mutual effort. That may be a friend. This wasn't it. The wind was clearly preoccupied with words and she was too in her way. Words were how those slats of wood may be carved and why they stayed balanced and why such balance might break and those pieces of wood fall down and get swept away in a storm to appear as worn diftwood on some shore. In such a way the idea being that if by calling the wind friend she entered into such a supportive relationship with it then eventually that relationship would have to be torn down. Let it not be said that the Intimate Upheaval did not apply the same mad logic to herself.

Regardless, even if relationships must be torn up they must be built, and perhaps this help, like the help she gave and promised Nemesis was that process. That relationship too would have to suffer the weather. And so Eniym gave her help and her advice:

I do not know which of the Goddesses you speak of, but you were at the beach with me and the others. You saw that while you and I may care about Words - Actions . . brrlplop . . . speak . . brrlplop . . . louder. Actions are a language of and into themselves. You have seen how the Queen of Salt expressed her Envy. How the Princess of Light expressed her desire. Actions - they . . brrlplop . . . spoke through Action. As such, if you wish to start a conversation with the object of your affection you should speak through Action. To carve your Words into reality.

And . . brrlplop . . . another lesson. The clearest action, the loudest, the action that screams with the . . brrlplop . . . most clarifty, is, as you saw violence. Through violence you may speak most directly. Violence to our Kin is the divine . . brrlplop . . . language

The question left unanswered of course was what and to what, or who and to whom. More slats to build, more slats to balance, and more slats to fall down. And while Gods were having words, the Cloudborn cousins sang together in a drunken harmony of flashing colors, flying spores and the ocass

Speaking with the wind is a risky business. The wind finds its own way. It has breezes and it has its gales. And Eniym is well acquainted with such volatile temperament, being fluid and kaleidoscopic in the colors of her whim in much the same way. As such, the wind falling silent did not trouble her. The wind could chew on her words and advice and if it decides to act then it could. She was after all as the wind - pushing the stone down the hill, watching it roll. And blowing on it so it strikes something not along its initial path. And so she bids the Wind goodbye, wishes it good luck with speaking to the First Speaker with violence.

And then she swims away, but not far, initially. She swims to the congregation of cousins - the Lichen-Liches drinking their drams with the Angels and the Word-Archons. She swims into the peat-smoked whiskey and swims through the other side into the Citadel.

As soon as Eniym swam through the pool - her slime at first polluting the clear whiskey and then that slime being drained into heaven itself, the band of cousins looked at the whiskey. They venerated it before ...

But now the drams of whiskey was the stairway to heaven itself. The whole affair of brewing now took on a more solemn and divine purpose. Those races that were taught martial arts to defend the whiskey now took on the purpose of guarding the door to the after-life itself. The Lichen Monasteries was now a society, led by the Lichen-Liches, dedicated to keeping the portal to heaven full (as such the Angels redoubled their efforts to cut moss and peat to carry into the sky) and the lessons the Liches taught their followers were now more serious and enhanced by mystic theology. After all, they were the guardians of the dead themselves, how could they not feel the nobleness in their purpose.

When they yelled their Kiai they did so as holy monks with a holy purpose.

Spoiler: Previously

Show

The Hall of Titans

Abundantly clever, Mamona had considered many avenues and her heralds were prepared for each.

"'Arbitration' was not the word you used. The word you did use was 'trial'. You meant for Nemesis to be brought to trial." The words poured out of the silver-haired Lilim like honey, though her smoldering allure was perhaps entirely lost on the flock. "Mamona asserts that you have no authority to conduct trials as the gods have failed to produce and ratify a body of law."

She gestured vacantly to the space before her, as if there should be a tablet within her grasp. "As you say, this is, ostensibly, a neutral space. It is entirely within your right to arbitrate for two parties, should they seek it. Trials are another matter entirely. Fortunately, our most generous queen has deigned to lend you her services in crafting a body of laws where none currently exist. Once completed, a quorum of signatories would be sufficient to grant you such authority. So invested, you would then have the power to call any offending god to submit to the justice of these halls, and you would have the full and enthusiastic support of our queen in such administrations." The last words excited the creature.

"Do take your time. Call upon our queen when you have a reply. We depart, but ask you to consider the honey and the wine." She gestured to the pair of amphorae. "Honey is everlasting. A thousand years from now, that honey will be edible and just as delicious as today. Wine, however, sours quickly if not treated with care."

The three Lilim bowed deeply, then retreated to be whisked back to Chalice in a column of golden flame.

Eniym arrived at the Citadel with a squelch. From the hole in realities that she created poured against all logic, endlessly and somehow infinitely, the finite amount of whiskey that the Lichen-Liches produced. This whiskey pooled on top of the tallest skyscraper of the Citadel, that skyscrapers were the Angels who had become the bureaucracy of the Citadel - covered in fungal gardens much like the clouds themselves. This whiskey would pool on the roofs of the skyscrapers and then fall in honey and amber colored waterfalls over their parapets and form paradisiacal rivers going east, west, north, and south from the skyscrapers. This would be Heaven's cardinal rivers and cardinal point. A fountain of alcohol.

Eniym though did not stick around, pardoning any slime based pun, and swam over the Lordsbridge back to the Hall. It was much like it was when she left it - although there seemed to be more columns now and the column build of chittering centipedes and locusts seemed to be on the verge of collapse. She swam around the meeting hall as she witnessed the three Lilim give their speech and ply Many-of-One, now severely diminished from when Eniym had spoken to it in the void, with honey and wine.

The Lilim vanished and Eniym decided to follow instead of staying and reconnecting with Many-Of-One. She had said her piece to the God and was still curious as to how the God will act on her words if at all. Anyway, the Lilim's talk of their golden honeyed queen invoked in her mind that sister of the King of Iron. That Goddess already had strings of connections that needed severing and had string-less un-existing relationships that needed binding. And so Eniym followed the Lilim to the Chalice.

The Chalice was a beauticious bowl of a great pristine lake surrounded by mist and mountains and waterfalls on all sides. At the center was a grand palace and scattered throughout were honeyed and golden statutes of lithe forms. And the hagfish arrived, her muck coating the perfect lake and defiling, accidentally, the statutes, as she made her way to the Castle.

Bloom of the Raj

Spoiler: Previously

Show

Settlers, Catan

As the caracan catamarans plied the oceans . . .

Red tides bloomed and died throughout the coasts of the First World. Each Red Tide was a seasonal disaster - fish died, the glowing coral went dark, and the water turned to blood. Nothing could live in the waters during such an event and what is more the coasts felt the tide's poison. Seafood and Shellfish eaten around the time of the red tide killed its partakers and while the coastal people learned to avoid such food during a red tide it was often unavoidable as coastal villages depended on the sea for food.

The Red Tide was often called a more poetic name by such Coastal regions: the Tiger's Roar. That is because sometimes those coastal villages would look over the blood red water and see an apparition standing on the water. The apparition would have a body of a strong male and a head of a tiger. And the Tiger would roar and then vanish into the bloody waves. The villagers thought it a ghost or a hallucination. But they may have witnessed the birth of a Rakshasa.

The Rakshasa, newly born, may shapeshift into a shark or eel, or some other such large underwater predator, or even keep its true form and feel a compulsion to go home, to go home to the Raj. As the Rakshasa were born during a red tide they were born all around the globe, and as they traveled they poisoned the waters around them. These moving red tides would be called by sailors Tiger Currents.

Converging upon the Raj, the Raj would be a strange nation of homogenous immigrants. Each Rakshasa was a loner - born alone and traveled alone to find this place. They were each arrogant and each thought themselves masters of the ocean. How then would a society of such noblemen develop?

A tale for another time.

Now we just turn to a caracan catamaran sailing the ocean and seeing the water turn blood red. They were near the coast so not a Tiger Current but a Tiger's Roar. No newly born Rakshasa in sight, yet - but this was a time when such deadly red tides were new. What were the Caracan to think of the ominous portent of a bloody ocean?

Spoiler: AP Bookkeeping

Show

3 AP + 4 Rollover

Create Portal/Bridge 2 AP: The Whiskey pools on the clouds are Portals to the Citadel and vice versa.

Alter Land 1 AP: the tallest skyscraper in the citadel is now a fountain of never-ending whiskey fountain, that becomes a waterfall down the skyscraper and becomes four great rivers of whiskey that flow through heaven.

4 AP

[Nefarion Xid]

Chalice

“What fresh hell is this?” Mamona sighed, seeing the Hagfish approach the gaping arched expanse in the mountainside that led to her palace proper. She had been tending to her garden, which is to say incinerating the inexplicable additions that offended her. What hadn’t been reduced a fine ash by her wrath was collected into woven baskets for study. She had built this paradise to escape the disgusting, rotting world above, and now some feckless entity had profaned her eden.

Her honey blonde hair was in disarray as she ascended the side stairs to intercept the Hagfish. There was a glowering look about her as she had cried and screamed in equal measure. The puffy eyelids and tear stained cheeks did little to mar her beauty; if anything, they made the imperious woman seem compassionate and vulnerable.

She was flanked by two of the lilim, carrying baskets and providing emotional support. Drawing near, she plucked a clump of lichen from one of the baskets and held it over for inspection.

“This is fungus. I made this world for myself. It is pristine. I have made it and my lilim as myself: immortal, perfect and divine. I have made every last flower and honey bee according to my whims. Every curve of the mountain is my doing. These waterfalls fill my lake and climb back up to fall again because it pleases me. But this is fungus. It subsists on decay. There is no fungus in my world because decay does not exist here. It cannot exist here.”

Her lips twitched, suppressing a manic rictus. “So, I will admit my vexation. Either I am not a goddess and I did not wrest this world from the firmament at the nadir of the cosmos, and I did not make the mountains and rivers and bees and flowers to please me… or someone has put lichen in my holy garden because it pleases them and displeases me.”

She returned the lichen to the basket and purged the remnants from her fingers with golden fire.

“Perhaps you have some wisdom here, Hagfish?” she asked her guest while dusting her hands clean. “Am I not Mamona, or has some callow (and possibly suicidal) creature defiled my garden for a laugh?”

[The Succubus]

Of Mer and Rats
The Temple district was a place of impressive construction. A circular area with the path running through, the sides were lined with various temples, each with their own unique style and construction. Dominating the plaza were two temple-buildings, with their smaller cousins around them. The first was a massive coral structure, lined with columns that interlocked here and there, sometimes impassible, others completely open. From inside could be heard a Song, a song of finding, seeking, being reunited. "The Temple of Marah, the Binding Embrace, and just as often, the Tidecaller" Adira says by means of explanation. The second was a glittering palace of gold, silver, glass and gems. It was almost as large as the Temple of Marah, though it gave the distinct impression of being rather more new than its twin. "The Temple of Mamona, who gifted the Mer with great material wealth. The surface dwellers find these things irresistible. They make for poor weapons and armor, heavy and soft, but they are quite a sight to look at. Mamona has quite a following among the Mer these days." she says of the metallic structure. Her voice is carefully neutral. Next to the Temple of Marah, flanking it on each side, were four smaller temples, each special in their own way. Adira points to them one by one: "The Temple of Janika, the Victorious. Many of our warriors pray to her before departing for the Scar." The building is austere, with hard edges, sharp promontories and edges lined with the bones of great sea creatures. The song that echoes from within its open doors spoke of victories in battle and defeated foes laid to waste. "The Temple of Looloodi, the Everblooming. She offers us bountiful harvests, and the gifts of soil and earth most glorious." Her temple seemed to reflect this, more open garden than true building. Even the stone and coral that merked its borders was covered in riotous blooms. The area within its grounds was tended by Mer who moved from plant to plant, and every one seemed the most friendly Mer you'd ever met. The entire temple was a riot of colors and life and each of the tenders sang a song that was ear-achingly beautiful, of nature and love from afar. "The Temple of Tafeita, the Hearthmother," Adira says, pointing to the third, "who watches over our children and our homes." The temple was all soft colors and warmth, and as they walked closer the Rat could feel the temperature rise slightly around the building. It seemed so welcoming, like one of the home-nests that he had left behind. The song that echoed from within spoke of safety and warmth, home and hearth after a long journey. It was hard for the Rat to turn away from this one. "The Temple of Selima, the Shifting Sands" Adira starts, but it is Tamesis who finishes, "my personal favorite of the Sisters. She is clever and quick witted, as all Scouts must be to survive. They say her faithful can always find their way home as long as they keep a cool head. I've never been lost," she finishes somewhat proudly. This building was surrounded by sand, which whirled in soft eddies and currents around it and through it. Those within could not be seen, cleverly hidden by the shifting dunes, but could be heard, singing a song about a great dumb beast outwitted by a clever desert cat who stole away all the beast's fancy weapons. The final temple, if it could be called such, stands next to the Temple of Mamona, dwarfed by the glittering building. It is a single basalt pillar, with a single hooded Mer who sits kneeling next to it. "That god has no name. A madman raving about some great doom carried it on his back and placed it there. Some claim the stone speaks truths of the past and future to them. I have heard none, but we make a home for all gods here." Adira says as the impromptu tour finishes. "Do you wish us to make a temple for your god?"

The Wandering Rat idly groomed its whiskers as it thought.

"I do not know. We do not know much about our god. I do not know of any other rats that have spoken to it. I think I should ask it what it would like." It brightened, "Maybe I can return with its answer and make a little place for it if it would like a home in this place."

"I would like to see the houses and people of this city. There would be a lot I could learn from them and teach the rats in Tanglenest how to make better homes for themselves, better ways to gather food and make Tanglenest as nice a place as this one."

[Draken]

[Ilianthos]

The Oil Baron Dunsmuir bows once to Janika before flowing into the depths post haste.

------

[The Mer Prophet]

The presence ponders the priest's words. The prophet responds, in the while.

"Hoh, brother! I can speak, and I have much to say! You are the one who never listens! You know exactly why I am here, to give warnings! Warnings yielded to me from the rocks! From the elements! I hear the voice of-"

He stops suddenly, as the sand around the temple of the Stone picks up in a maelstrom and turns into a vast stone structure surrounding the shrine, magnificent, solemn, just barely architecturally possible. The mer is flabbergasted at this. Amid the sound of whirling chains a gate door opens at the front of the structure, like the mouth of a giant shark and the darkness within engulfs the two priests.

And in that darkness, the stone glows, and its light reveals carvings on the walls.

The Witches on the Plains and on the Clouds have much to give and little to be wanted.

They carved away the great continent and called it a prison, but it holds us no longer. Is there anyone left?

Water burns in the clouds in much the same way it burns in the depths, however, it is still drinkable.

Green is your only hope against red. No number of killers can kill the dead.

Nobody remembers the people of Mamona. I wonder if she does. They should be fine with Vanderbilt, he is nearby.

I want to help. I want a home.

I like it here. It is nice. I listen to the rocks when I close my minds. If only there were more of them.

The illusion falls away, none of the passersby were caught in it, only the two priests.

The prophet is elated.

"I must find builders! Yes! Oh yes!"

He runs off, heedless of the priest of Selima.

Spoiler: AP

Show

Just reminding myself that The Fortress of Moss has 5 AP.

[mystic1110]

Spoiler: Previously

Show

Chalice

“What fresh hell is this?” Mamona sighed, seeing the Hagfish approach the gaping arched expanse in the mountainside that led to her palace proper. She had been tending to her garden, which is to say incinerating the inexplicable additions that offended her. What hadn’t been reduced a fine ash by her wrath was collected into woven baskets for study. She had built this paradise to escape the disgusting, rotting world above, and now some feckless entity had profaned her eden.

Her honey blonde hair was in disarray as she ascended the side stairs to intercept the Hagfish. There was a glowering look about her as she had cried and screamed in equal measure. The puffy eyelids and tear stained cheeks did little to mar her beauty; if anything, they made the imperious woman seem compassionate and vulnerable.

She was flanked by two of the lilim, carrying baskets and providing emotional support. Drawing near, she plucked a clump of lichen from one of the baskets and held it over for inspection.

“This is fungus. I made this world for myself. It is pristine. I have made it and my lilim as myself: immortal, perfect and divine. I have made every last flower and honey bee according to my whims. Every curve of the mountain is my doing. These waterfalls fill my lake and climb back up to fall again because it pleases me. But this is fungus. It subsists on decay. There is no fungus in my world because decay does not exist here. It cannot exist here.”

Her lips twitched, suppressing a manic rictus. “So, I will admit my vexation. Either I am not a goddess and I did not wrest this world from the firmament at the nadir of the cosmos, and I did not make the mountains and rivers and bees and flowers to please me… or someone has put lichen in my holy garden because it pleases them and displeases me.”

She returned the lichen to the basket and purged the remnants from her fingers with golden fire.

“Perhaps you have some wisdom here, Hagfish?” she asked her guest while dusting her hands clean. “Am I not Mamona, or has some callow (and possibly suicidal) creature defiled my garden for a laugh?”

A Poisoned Chalice

Eniym floated and swam towards the goddess and then around all in that infuriatingly slow pace of her. One must think, how did she get anywhere at her speed? And yet, it just so happened that she may have been one of the more traveled gods. Perhaps the most. Another conundrum of Eniym’s that should not be solved and possibly could not be solved. Regardless, she moved towards the goddess and then to the left towards one of the Lilim carrying a basket of fungus and lichen. In her movements her long trail of slime marked her path, and slowly dripped onto the perfect ground. She acted as if she was inspecting the mulch in the basket, after all most of her creations or by products were this very thing – if she was a different sort of goddess she would have been incenses – but she wasn’t. Instead of inspecting the actual material she was placing Mamona on a board in her mind’s eye and on that board each other god and she was tying her strings of many-colors. The board looked wrong – there was Mamona’s angry outburst at her Brother. That string was red and should be made green, but there was also the golden strings trying the Sisterhood together. Those strings should rust. And Gold was Mamona’s color after all. Eniym speaks:

It is good that I have come, because . . brrlplop . I came to bring you the same warning that I gave your dear brother who misses you greatly. Jealousy . . brrlplop . . . is a poisonous force.

The goddess swims floats around and back to face Mamona, the hagfish closer now, and more like a witch giving out destiny.

You took a Divine . . brrlplop . . . lover but the divinity you took was beloved by many others. Of these jealous beings, there was one who was exceedingly clever. There . . brrlplop . . . are many gods of moss and grime . . brrlplop . . . on the . . brrlplop . . . mortal world, I among them, and this envious goddess grabbed one of their creations, this fungus, to spread upon your world as a slight and a warning. I know not her name, only that she . . brrlplop . . . is a maiden of slender frame and the eyes of a cat. She feels like the endless desert, my . . brrlplop . . . skin drying quickly upon gazing . . brrlplop . . . at her. She holds no candle to your beauty and . . brrlplop . . . so she has resorted to these petty tricks.

Bloom of the Raj

Off the coast of the first land there were three goblins who had planned to go fishing with their retinue of slaves. They walked towards the beach and saw that a Tiger's Roar had developed. It was unfortunate because it was otherwise, and against all expectations, a great day for fishing. Regardless, they resolved to enjoy the beach and sent their slaves to provide for them some shade. The salves managed to string up some plants into a sort of tent to shade the goblins. And they relaxed staring at the bloody ocean. . .

Off the coast of the island where Mamona had forgotten her humans a couple of them came to hunt for some wild boar. They had fashioned makeshift clubs and knew that the boars liked to rest on the warm sand. They crept up slowly in the tree line - trying not to make a noise as they spied the sleeping pigs and the red sea that they slept near.

. . . the Goblins heard an actual Roar. They wakened from their reverie and saw a strange creature walking on the bloody ocean. A large creature that looked like a hafling three times the size and a head of a tiger. Its palms were facing the wrong way. The creature looked at them and at first gurgled – ‘Bow’ – as if it was learning language for the first time. The Goblins laughed and charged it, expecting to take this fine specimen home as a slave. Unfortunately, for them the Rakshasa had the same idea. Its limbs lashed out like tentacles as it was able to shift its form and it quickly subdued the goblins and their slaves and now spoke with a clearer voice, a voice of authority and arrogant promised command – “you are now part of the working . . .”

. . . drowned” the Rakshasa stated to the humans as they bowed before it in worship. The Rakshasa arrived in its full glory as the humans had just slaughtered the pigs. It consumed the killed pigs as if an offering and the humans, forgotten by their careless god bowed before it.

As they were all declared the working drowned the humans, goblins and the various other races who were found by a Rakshasa stumbled to the floor choking on air, not being able to breath. They felt a sudden urge to run to the sea and found that they would no longer float but sink. They would run and crawl to the waves and find that not only could they walk below the surface they could breathe. They tried swimming back out, but found that their feet were like lead and even when they broke the surface they could only breath underwater now. They were the Rakshasa’s – they were the working drowned.

And thus that was how the Raj developed. Each Rakshasa a powerful lord on its own right would arrive in their collective kingdom with a retinue of slaves – their own personal kingdom – which the newly arrived Rakshasa would parade across the Dead Sea floor of the Raj. The lowest Raj would be classes of the Kshatriyas: Rulers and warriors – knights, viceroys, administrators. A variety of titles. Those that arrived with more than a handful of working drowned might be able to achieve even the higher ranks of the Brahmins – the Priests, Princes and Tutors.

And thus the society of the Raj would slowly begin to develop. Highly individualistic, each Rakshasa a ruler in its own right and way, but . . . some were more important and powerful than others. The priests were the most powerful, and at a certain point were able to impress the working drowned of the other Rakshasa to a communal project. To build temples to the Gods of the Raj.

The Raj had its own gods, and in the dead water within its borders they erected (and by they I mean the drowned slaves), not temples, but palaces for their gods. These gods were taken from the associated myths of their slaves and their own observations of the world. The palaces are built with a geometrical design based on the four cardinal directions, but not on the cardinal directions but diagonal from them. The direction form the axis of the Palace around which is formed a perfect square in the space available. The Rakshasa consider the square divine for its perfection and as a symbolic product of the Perfection of the Raj. The square of is divided into sixty-four perfect sub-squares called Padas which are each assigned to a symbolic element of the Raj’s superiority. Above each such Palace was built with a Shikhara or Spire that rises symmetrically above the central core of the Palace. Each of the spires are built with mathematical precision and geometric symbolism made of circles and a turning-squares theme as well as a concentric layering design that flows from one to the other as it rises towards the ocean surface. Inside each Palace has a pillared hall called the Madapa, which serves as a place of worship for the Gods of the Raj.

As a newly arrived Rakshasa walked its working drowned across the palace district it taught its slaves about the Raj and its gods. Rakshasa talk like philosophers – refined gentlemen of the world, with the teeth necessary to tear its throat out.

The Rakshasa pointed out a Palace build of blue sapphire gleaming in the open ocean and told its servants that this was the Temple of Marah, the Binding – the Goddess of the Ocean and the One who decreed that the ocean was superior to all and to breath in the waters, to live in the waters one may find reincarnation while those on land would perish and their souls fracture into nothingness. And to live in servitude inside the binding and inescapable pull of the ocean, was that not in fact more freeing than living on land and knowing that one’s soul was forfeit?

Next the young prince pointed out a palace of Gold, and said this was the home of Mamon, the Lord of Wealth. Mamon was the principal god of the Rakshasa as Mamon was the God of Refinement. In Wealth, one finds themselves, in knowing what was above base culture – one can define themselves and the world around them. In such a way the Rakshasainstructed his working drowned that Mamon himself decreed that the Rakshasa were to instruct the lesser races in the arts, in astronomy, in theology and in all manner of things and for this they should thank him – the Rakshasa and Mamon both.

The Palace that was shown next was one made of Emerald and this was the Palace of the God Janik, that embodiment of male power. The Shikhara of this temple almost broke the surface of the water the Rakshasa laughingly pointed out the symbolism. Janik was the God of Power and as such was the god of slavery and punishment the Rakshasa seriously told his slaves. If they were to defy him Janik himself would steal from them Marah’s gift of breathing under the ocean. They would die were they stood – drowning.

The next palace was made of Opals and the Rakshasainformed the servants that this was the temple of Selima, the Goddess of Tigers. It was through her efforts that the Rakshasa were born. She took the fungus from the sky and brought it to the ocean and then cut her wrists and bled into the sea. That was why Rakshasawere divine. Selima bled to make them. The Rakshasabowed before this Palace in deep respect and ordered his slaves to do the same.

There was also an enormously wide Palace made of rusting metal which the Rakshasa told the slaves belonged to Nemesis and his Bride. Nemesis was the God of Death and his Bride was the Goddess of Poison. Together they guarded the frontier of the Raj such that nothing may live within it without the Raj. They had lived in happy matrimony guarding the Raj - with Nemesis ordering his wife to poison the borders and to kill all that would seek to bring the Raj to its knees.

A merfolk who had been enslaved – the curse of the Rakshasa only making her crawl on the ocean floor instead of swimming freely kept her mouth shut against all this blasphemy. There were more temples – or Palaces as the Rakshasa called them – but she noticed that there was no temple for Tafeita. It did not seem that this heartless childless race would care or know the Hearthmother. She though, couldn’t help but ask about the smallest temple – one that seemed to be built of stone.

The Rakshasa sternly told the slave to shut up. That was the Palace of the Unknown. It was the Palace where all things die. It was where Rakshasa in disgrace went to die or those sentenced to death went to pray. It was decay and undoing. And it was a Palace for a god with no name.

Spoiler: AP Bookeeping

Show

4 AP
1 AP: Teach mundane concept – Slavery.
1 AP: Bless. The Working Drowned. Any individual that submits to a Rakshasa, either through force (defeated) or by their own will (Surrender or obsequious groveling or bid for power/favor), can, at the Rakshasa's choice, be cursed such that if they would normally only be able to breathe air and would float in water now sink to the bottom of the sea and can only breath in water as if they had gills. In fact, those so curse would suffocate on land much like a fish.
2 AP: The society of the Raj is just called the Raj.
0AP

[Nefarion Xid]

Chalice

"Yes, I suppose many must be terribly jealous of my... everything." One of the lilim nodded eagerly. The two devils were ill suited for weeding, or any sort of labor. Covered in grime from the infected garden, they were keen to be released from their duties and return to the baths.

"Is that what you came here to tell me? Some sandy bint is sour that I got to squeeze Looloo's grapes first?" Mamona quirked a perfect brow at the floating blobsnake.

[ChaoticHarmony]

Looloodi: A Petal and Paw

There. That nasty thing has left, in spirit and body. Looloodi smiles in pride and happiness, so glad to have her Sisters there to witness her new babies. With a kind whisper, Looloodi gently strokes the head of the center Verdant, a pleasured coo being elicited from the tiny mortal as seeds plummet into Looloodi's palm. "You know what you must do. Like, fight the decay, in any form it takes, and spread beauty wherever you go." The Verdant nods towards her Mistress, then turns with the others toward the western shore. They have quite the journey ahead of them.

As her children depart to sow their oats and begin the arduous task of cleaning up the muck of the World, Looloodi happily hugs her departing Sisters. "You're all, like, always welcome to come back! I love you Sissies! Let me know if I can help with anything!" With the others departed, Looloodi turns to her most fiery and fluffy of Sisters, Tafeita. "Would you like to, like, come to the top with me? I want to, like, spread some seeds to the First Land, then begin decorating our new Plane! It'll be so much fun!"

[bc56]

Impact

Across the First World, people who were watching the night sky saw a star. Seeing stars is not very unusual most of the time, but this was different. This star moved, leaving a trail of light in its wake.
It was an omen, a sign of favor or disfavor from one of the gods, depending on who saw it.

But that is not the end of its story.
Like many objects which fall from the sky, the shooting star struck the ocean. There was a lot more ocean than land, it was easy to hit. Being made of stone (an unusual trait for stars these days), it promptly sunk, still cooling from its fiery descent through the atmosphere. It eventually hit the bottom. Perhaps it landed in the open ocean, where no one would find it for decades, or perhaps it ended up not far from a village of Mer. Either way, the huge stone gear sat on the ocean floor, choked with plants that had no right to survive underwater, yet did so anyway, and containing who knows what. A door looms open on one of its prongs, revealing the overgrown interior within.

The Palace
Tapyeoka woke up. This wasn't strange, she woke up every morning, like clockwork. The elderly Kobold sage twisted to get out of bed, feeling...
That was strange. Her joints weren't creaking, she felt better than she had in years. Then she looked around.
The room was dark, and made of stone, and most certainly not her bedroom. There was a stone bookshelf against one wall, crammed with books, and a pair of chairs next to it. In one corner, a pool of still water sat. On the wall opposite it, there was a door with a book on a stand next to it, but the archway opened onto a blank wall. Tap could see clearly, but she was fairly sure that it was not that the chamber was well-lit, but rather that her eyes, which had been nearing blindness yesterday, could very clearly see even without any light. She got to her feet, realizing that she had been lying on the stone floor, yet she felt no discomfort at sleeping on such a hard surface.
"I'm dead, aren't I." She expected no reply, but someone said, "As a doornail."
There was a middle-aged Kobold sitting in one of the chairs, reading. He had been obscured from Tap's view, but now he leaned over the arm of his chair to look at her. "What's a pretty young girl like you doing in a place like this?" Tap began to contradict him, but he cut her off. "Before you say anything, look in the pond. You old-agers are always surprised when you first arrive." Tap did as she was bid, curious at his words and marveling at the spring in her step. She looked down at the pool and saw her reflection looking back. But it was her reflection from a time she could barely remember, a beautiful young Kobold woman, someone she hadn't been for decades. She stared dumbfounded. Of course this would happen after death, but it was still so surprising. She was an old woman with bad teeth, and now she was someone who could model for statues (and had done so before). She was wearing a new dress too; it was very comfortable and looked quite nice, and it had been at the height of fashion back when she was this age. She looked back at the stranger. "So this is the labyrinth? It's smaller than I expected."
"This is one chamber. I shut the door because I wanted to be alone. If you can figure it out, feel free to leave."
Tap looked at the door. It still faced a blank wall, so she inspected the pedestal next to it. She lifted the book to see its title and saw underneath where it was, a square slot which something could fit into. She looked at the bookshelf. It was covered in numerous treatises, but scattered throughout were also collections of folk stories and pieces of fiction. Perhaps they offered some clue, but it would take ages to read them all. Tap replaced the book from the pedestal (On the Use of Fluids to Power Devices by Wahterwiil) on the shelf and looked over what was left, one by one. Her eye caught on a group of books that had no titles, only volume numbers, and they were out of order. She grabbed the first one, and it caught on something in the wall and stayed put. She did the same to the second, then the third, then the fourth, until all eight volumes were pulled partway off the shelf.
Then the wall next to the shelf swung silently inward on perfectly balanced hinges. Beyond it was a workroom, scattered with rods, wheels, and handles of all sizes. Tap was an engineer. She knew what these were for. She selected a likely-looking square rod and went to work.
After a lot of trial and error and an incalculable amount of time, Tap had constructed a crank that would fit into the slot on the pedestal. She placed it inside, and turned. The chamber began to rotate with a grinding sound, and numerous teeth of an adjacent gear began to flash by outside the door. She kept turning until the entrance was lined up with another doorway, then she stepped through it into the next room in the labyrinth.
The door rotated shut behind her.

[Razade]

Hall of the Sacred Dead: Catan

The small mountain that housed the Derro chiefs past was a wild and untamed place, a final test and unmoving testament to the rugged and simple Derro and their sole temple, for the Derro had yet to grasp complex building beyond their simple tents and grass covered huts. The Hall had a great many rules, as the Derro were particularly fond of honor and boundaries. Only chiefs could climb the mountain alive but a tribe could carry a chief's body up to the top if required. Dying chiefs would be presented their final challenge, a climb to the top with no weapons and no clothing. Those that made it were given special places in the crude structures that dotted the peak. Those that did not, were shamed and their tribes given further spots from the meeting flames when all the chiefs met.

The mountain was tended by a tribe, the Ghost Pines. When the tribes began to grow in power, the Ghost Pines held the mountain with many others. As the chiefs vyed for prestige, as the laws and rules of the Derro were born, all tribes met and all tribes were required to agree to the system that anchored them down even now. The Derro saw the lands before them. The mountains, the beaches and riverlands, the valleys and hills, and saw simple structure. The tribes that would settle the valleys would grow and harvest their simple crops and hunt. The ocean and rivers would fish and dig clay for pottery and other such vital roles. The mountains would hunt and herd, ferment the haash and forge what simple tools they could from the elemental and mundane sources they could reach.

Many tribes were hurt by this system, most of all the Boiling Crag who once ranged over the Hall of Sacred Dead. They'd had another name but the Ghost Pines took it and buried it along with its final chief. They'd moved to the blasted and dry crag from where they got their new name. Chiefs came and went, violence ruled. Until Steam that Greets the Morning. The story was told many places, there was no need to repeat the past. The bones of the earth could have such tales.

Steam that Greets the Morning only saw the future. The future of his people, his tribe, the Derro. The climb was slow, ever under the watchful eyes of the Ghost Pines. They'd followed from the lowest slopes and even now with the largest structure the Derro had built in sight they walked alone. It was rare for a living chief to ever make the climb, rarer still for one of the Boiling Crag. Generations had passed since they'd even sent their dead chiefs to the mountain. Every chief had the right however, and Steam that Greets the Morning knew how to push their rights.

The temple that sat atop the Hall was silent, built in the shadow of giant rampart walls. Other such ruins dotted the lands of the Derro, they had many stories of powerful elemental lords that ruled the lands before their arrival. Of strange voices that rang through the broken and shattered villages, or what remained, where they dared not step. All Derro grew up with these, of the strange dreams those who had taken shelter in the shadow of the ruins, of decay and drought. Some even spoke of vast tunnels that ran beneath the ruins into dark places filled with moss. Some went down to explore. None ever returned. If the mountain of the Hall of Sacred Dead was the heaven of the Derro, these dark roads were their hells. None were fool enough to encounter those strange places long.

The Ghost Pines ushered them into the dark and smokey interior of the longhouse. Singing filled the air, the buzzing of Derro throat singing accompanied by the ringing of metal bowls. The smoke tasted of cardamom and soot, smelt of vanilla and lavender, large crude iron pots cherry red as they burned themselves to slag. The longhouse was separated by curtains of bear pelts, their own musty odor mingling with the rest. They were led between several curtains, far to the back of the longhouse where the chief of the Ghost Pines rested.

The room was small and closed in from the furs and simple walls. No weapons hung here, no trophies. The Ghost Pine had given up the right to either of those when they took charge of the mountains and the dead. All of the Ghost Tribe painted themselves with dyes, as some tribes did in the lowlands, but Steam that Greets the Morning had no love or understanding of it. The dyes had their own light in the murk, here before a small fire, a gastly green that made their stomach turn. Old, hunched over and dressed in a simple cloth about their withers, the chief of the Ghost Pines sat.

She was old, wrinkles making what would have been the luminescent bones about her body bend and contort at strange angles as she moved. A pipe hung from her mouth and her eyes were clouded and milky as they stared into the dark ceilings overhead. "You've come long, chief of the Boiling Crag. Come for revenge?" Laughter like dried leaves echoed in the small artificial chamber.

Steam that Greets the Morning said nothing, staring at the old crone before laying out a small Vagrant. They'd slain it sometime in the last few days on the mountain. It was thin, it had breathed fire, it had the face of a great cat and the body of a beaver. It was a fine offering and the old crone snatched the body up to inspect with wrinkled and worn hands. Nails thick with fungus and broken rasped against skin and fur, a thin knife carved out its guts before they were offered to the fire. The fur followed suit and the acrid smell of burnt hair nearly gagged the young chief to death. The crone ate the rest raw, what few teeth remained in her slobbering gob working the tough fibers before cracked lips smacked and her gullet was full. All had gone as they'd been told to expect. Offerings, then the sharing of oaths.

"By the Bones of this world and by the names of all who came before, this one calls itself Steam that Greets the Morning. Named in its third year. This one has come to see, to understand, to know what must be done."

The Crone gave one more smack of her lips before she offered a blood slicked hand to smear across their face. "This one knows you by their dreams, for we have seen your coming in ages past and present." she spat, a sharp strike against Steam that Greet's the Morning following and rage bubbling followed that. "This one knows what you will in your dreams. It has no pity for you, the angry child of our enemy of old." With a sharp motion the curtains parted and several more of the Ghost Pines came forward each with a bubbling wooden bowl. Each was offered to Steam that Greets the Morning and each was drank.

The taste was like poison, it numbed their tongue and throat all while it burned them with their heat. Another wave of great nausea spilled over them, bile mixing with the acrid and harsh taste of mountain weeds and boiled fat which all settled into the pit of their stomach like a great boulder. They'd been told of this as well, of the shame they would have over them should they not hold the holy liquids down. How the Ghost Pines would, with their simple blades, gut them where they sat and leave their body to be eaten by wild animals. The stone in Steam that Greets the Morning's body grew hot, like a bonfire lit within them. The heat spilled into their blood and reached every inch of them in moments. Their feet and fingers tingled and the world around them spun. Time warped, slowed and the crackling of fire became like a hurricane in their ears. Their body twitched, spasms in their muscles they could not, must not, fight. More nausea and then nothing. They'd blinked and it felt like an eternity. Each time they closed their eyes they felt as if the world had simple ceased to exist.

Behind their eyelids the darkness burst with light, opening to a new world. A new dawn, a new day. Time and time and time again as they were laid out onto the floor still twitching, they saw Creation anew. A world of water. A world of sand where vast insects walked. A world of worlds, that stretched around a burning orb. Of stars, of gentle rains that nourished rather than brought destruction. Of bear skinned hallways as they were carried out of the room and into the open air. The sounds filled their mouth with tastes and colors sang out in glorious song. Reds sounded as fiddles and the dark greens of the pines like roaring drums. The breeze through their needles tasted of yeast bread and beer, the sound of bare feet on warm stone like cream. The call of birds tasted of za'vat, so rare in their tribe and Steam that Greets the Morning savored the caramel rich flavors with leaden tongue. They could feel the world around them in ways only whispered of. Like a lover, warm and eager, fresh and virgin for their touch. Robes of gray wolf were draped over their body and the furs felt like a thousand tongues rasping against dark gray flesh. The songs, distant in the longhouse, grew louder and there before their eyes was a multitude.

Their father and mother, all of the Boiling Crag stood about on bended knee. Around them unfamiliar faces looked up from their prostrate forms, words on their lips they could not hear. Steam that Greets the Morning strained their ears to listen but only bird call with the rich za'vat rang back. The faces melted, merged and the verdant world grew dark. A presence unlike any they'd ever touched seemed to stare back, impossibly old and dark. It was if the ruins themselves had come to life around them, made their feelings known. Steam that Greets the Morning felt small for the first time in their life. There was no fight here, only death. The mountain pressed in around them and the birds ceased their calls as storm clouds drew near. A second presence, as old and as dark as the first. They could feel it in the rains that fell about them, in the air and the fires and the ground beneath their feet. All around them the inexorable pull of long dead Gods willed themselves to bear. It was all he had to cry out but only spittle and raging nonsense came forth. The draught had stolen their tongue, their mind, their memories fell to sludge and their eyelids fell once more. Their screams tasted of bile and the draught, the feeling rang through their chest like the tremors in their hands. They were one with the world around them, that taste that clung to their mouth, to the sky above, to the dead halls beneath. That taste was not their taste but the taste of the world. Decay, demise, destruction and dirt.

Countless worlds, countless times, they were all dead behind their eyelids. Steam that Greets the Morning was merely another of those dead.

[mystic1110]

Spoiler: Previously

Show

Chalice

"Yes, I suppose many must be terribly jealous of my... everything." One of the lilim nodded eagerly. The two devils were ill suited for weeding, or any sort of labor. Covered in grime from the infected garden, they were keen to be released from their duties and return to the baths.

"Is that what you came here to tell me? Some sandy bint is sour that I got to squeeze Looloo's grapes first?" Mamona quirked a perfect brow at the floating blobsnake.

A Poisoned Chalice

Eniym looked at the Lilim and their obedience to their Queen. Mortals too have their connections to their Gods. But why their gods? Why not other gods? She looks back at the goddess.

If it was? I am of the weather and the weather that is me blows me too and fro and where I . . brrlplop . . . arrive . . brrlplop . . . I may speak what may. We are Gods and Queens are we not, and we may do as we will as is our right.

The hagfish swims in the air and takes stock of Chalice with its manicured gardens and mathematical curves.

I did come for another reason. I heard your Envoys in the Hall of the Star . . brrlplop . . . God. Their plea for a Divine Law is one that I wish to fulfill. I came to offer my help.

[RolandDeschain]

Catan, A Setter Homestead

In the morning, Jelu sets the children to their chores and Kai'a prepares a breakfast of cooked eggs, cheese, and warm bread for everyone. When the meal is complete he explains to Shadow on the Snow Peaks that Lord Damu's manor is a morning's ride away. Once his horse is saddled he leads it out of the barn and out to the rough path that passes for a road on the Settler frontier. As they travel the small group passes three more homesteads similar, if slightly bigger than Jelu's, and though other caracan are seen working in the fields none of them come to greet the strange entourage.

Before the dawnfly has reached its zenith, an imposing two-story limestone manor house situated atop a low rise comes into view. The grounds are well groomed and a colonnade of trees lines the path leading to the house. Jelu turns to Shadow on the Snow Peaks, "Are you certain about this? You'll be asked to surrender your weapons before we are allowed to enter."

Catan, Kapet

Stories of the Long Winter faded into myth, tales that grandfathers told merely because they had heard them from their grandfathers. To some, the Passing of Dawn death ritual grew to be seen as nothing more than a silly superstition....after all the idea that one's soul must be offered to sun for its protection was fanciful at best. To them, the sun was simply a ball of flame that traversed the skies daily. How could it be extinguished? How could it fail to appear? Ancient tales of a colossal dragonfly birthed by the Desert Maiden's passion for life were nothing more than cute bedtime stories for the children. In the dark places, below the ground where caracan maidens heard the whispers of the Hallow Presence, they prepared the bodies of the dead for the long vigil, but they also explored. Yes..explored, for the catacombs beneath Catan were prodigious. Twisty, deep, and long beyond comprehension - clearly not the making of caracan labor. The whispers in the dark counseled them, and the preservation techniques grew increasingly complex. Offerings and gifts were promised in secret to the maidens of the chapter house, by those few who believed the soul could return to the body someday and enjoy life eternal. For those whose families had paid the price, the organs were preserved in jars, then sewn back into the body, the linen wraps were soaked in preservatives, and bodies were taken after the ritual of Passing deep underground. The journey was long, the way unmarked, and maidens that performed the procession of life eternal were guided by the whispers. At the journey's end, the bodies were interred in limestone caskets within an enormous underground chamber, deep beneath the Opal Desert.

Catan, Sisters Faith Hall - Kapet

The Horrorscopes would come once a ten day to stand upon the steps of the Faith Hall and cry out their portents of doom. They pointed to the skies claiming to read the signs. They pointed to the ground and claimed the stones spoke. They pointed to the caracan and occasional mer claiming they were all 'taken by moss'. They pointed to themselves claiming only they knew the truth. They pointed to the Faith Hall and decried idolatry and ritual. The Matron Mothers were nonplussed and tried to shoo them away to no avail. Eventually they came to ignore them, opening the side doors to the chapels within to allow people to pass unmolested by the crazed doomsayers. In the depths of the night they would disappear, not to be seen for ten more days, but every time they left behind a single, palm-sized, shard of nearly black basalt. The stones were brought to Mater Siku, but she merely shook her head, as she turned the stone in her hand, "Leavings of madmen and lunatics....worthless trinkets from a cult of lost souls." But her handmaiden was reluctant to throw them into the bay as commanded and she secretly placed them in a broken and discarded water cask, in a storeroom beneath the Faith Hall.

Caracan Catamaran

Captain Aelu studied the dark red stain upon the ocean with trepidation and his instincts were to steer a course as far from the thing as possible. Yet, was it not his mission to discover and explore, so he ordered his small crew to sail directly into the red tide, the men balked so the order was repeated, and still they hesitated, "Captain! The thing reeks of death and blood!"

Leaning down from his captain's perch, "And what would you have of us Maloa? Run from every sign of danger? Quail at the sight of all we don't yet know and understand? No! Head on, you cowards....full sail!"

Selima, The Chalice

She strolled lazily through the whorls of the pleasure gardens, trailing her fingers along the fruits that hung heavily from the trees. Plump bees tumbled and danced around her as she walked. Stopping, she turned slowly surveying the ring of mountains and cascading waterfalls, "Like the Caldera...but and idealized....a true paradise of beauty, wealth, and bounty." The lewd statues made her smile, prudish hearts would find them grotesque, but to her they revealed an almost whimsical touch.

She climbed the curved stairs to stand upon the balcony and bask in the grandeur of The Chalice vistas. The marble palace inlaid with gold stood upon the feet of the mountains and silently called to her, and she called back, "Hello? Of whose hand was this place wrought? I would meet you and offer felicitations."