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

**GSisco** · 2019-03-22, 04:02 AM (ISO 8601)

The Goblin Clan War: The Caldera

Eats-Rocks-For-Power had finally earned a name others would remember him by. He had proven himself in his fight with Preys-On-The-Weak and finally shown that big bully what he deserved. Then the power faded and he was once again the weakest of the goblins.

He missed that power. He needed that power. He deserved that power.

Then the clan was attacked. Even with their new weapons, their clan was far smaller than the ones attacking. Eats-Rocks-For-Power knew he could help. He could save his clan. All he needed was more rocks. Then he saw the goblin with the book. He had the rocks. If only Eats-Rocks-For-Power could get to him. There was much danger between the two goblins but nothing would stop the determined weakling from sneaking across the field of battle. He needed his strength.

Spoiler: AP Usage

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starting AP: 10
Curse- Looloodite Addiction: With great power, comes great addiction. Using the strength enhancing properties of the soul stuff can be highly addictive.

Ending AP: 9

**Razade** · 2019-03-22, 04:16 AM (ISO 8601)

Hagfish in a Maze

The Necropolis is old. Older than time could ever allow, memories and ghosts from ages never passed. The air is stale, benthic, the oppressive silence like a noose. Like the glue of a hagfish, it coagulated about the Patient Advisor with the fetid scent of something long gone to spoil. Here surely was no realm for the Gods, or truly anything else. There were no games here, no angles to play. No one to pit against one another, no one and nothing to sever or form connections too. The ghosts, lost to their misery, the Caretakers mere plants and Elementals at the edges of the vast cities simply doing what they did.

The Hagfish was alone yet so terribly surrounded. From ruined walls the gaze was all around her. From the streets, from the skies. A hundred eyes, a thousand, a multitude uncounted they stared and marked her passage. Yet there was no one. Nothing. There never was. For this place out of time and before time and after time there merely stretched the earthen flesh of ancients. The realm was no reflection of angry or scheming gods. It was the thoughts, the promises, of what came before and what would most certainly come after. It was ruination. It was decay. It was the memory of all that would be. It was a testament to all that ever was.

But there, in a mighty tower...a light? As if someone late to dusk had lit a candle to read by. An enticing thing for a presence was surely there. It called to the Hagfish, a single beacon in a realm of misery, gloom and despair. Perhaps there was a God here yet, or something that might be worthy of some conversation.

Steam that Greets the Morning: Dead

Steam that Greets the Morning narrows their eyes, frown ever deeper in their misty visage. "Bittermoss...this one will keep its eyes upon you." They slowly lowered their blade though remained wary, turning to look upon the writing once more and then the endless ruined city before them. "If we are to return to our peoples, we best go together. We will find these gates. We shall return. Come, the Bones of the World are not yet done with us for certain, pick up your blade. It would make us more at ease to know another warrior is at our side.

Steam that Greets the Morning did not wait after that, drifting through the ruined streets for a thing they didn't even really know. The Derro had no gates, they worked metal so little, surely such a place would not have the wood and hide bound doors they were familiar with.

Caterwauling: Kapet - Horroscopes

The streets of Kapet, the bustling market city of the Caracan was no doubt familiar to many strange travelers. Nor were many unfamiliar with the crazed Caracan doomsayers who would every tenday appear on the steps of the Faith Hall to give their portents of doom that never seemed to come. This day however the Caracan was different. Thin to the point of emaciation, dressed in ragged robes stained with fluids best left unknown, fur taken by mange and eyes the milky white of a dead fish's stomach as it bobbed in fetid waters came crawling.

On hands and feet the Caracan moved through the crowds, iron chains jangling from wrist and ankle and the scraping of stone upon stone mingled with their pitiable cries as they made their way to the top of the Faith Hall's stairs. It carried a shattered hunk of basalt stone, large chunks missing from the imposing spire. How could such a foul thing have the strength to carry such a heavy burden? With great effort it stood, chest heaving, old wounds oozing black blood and maggots upon the ground.

"The hells have opened!" it screamed, voice tinny and thin but none the less piercing crowded market noises as if some power beyond itself rushed air from collapsed lungs.

"The skies have opened, oh heavens, and the stars are strange in the sky! The earth moves and with it, the ancients stir! Be warned brothers and sisters! The dead walk among you!" Nails bit clean in half leveled at some in the crowd, the wild eyes of a blind man scanning some unseen and unknowable mass. "The earth spawns cancers and all will taste sweat and toil in their dark halls! I have seen it, oh, have I seen it! The Gods are within my head, they won't let me rest. They saw my family die, yes, die at the hands of foul beasts! They torment me still!"

With great effort the Caracan, animated and wild, strikes the basalt pillar and bones snap. "The Stones they dream! The Moss, it grows! Beneath the Waves a Goddess meets a God, the seas will rise up and swallow this corpse city and none will remember we were ever here! No grave awaits us, no hope, no love, no forgiveness. The Matron Mothers, they know what they have done! They have bred with cattle in rituals to see the souls of you people slaughtered! They feast on infants to extend their youth! They watch you in the shadows, they watch you in your dreams! None of you are safe, only in the Stone and the Moss will you find release!"

The Caracan pants, fists bloody and the stone remains unmoved even as he turns to the crowded streets. "We must build this stone up, we must sleep in its shadows and we must burn those who wear our skin in a great pyre! They are demons! Demons who seek our destruction! To lead us to false idols! We must burn them, brothers and sisters! They replace our whiskey with potions, to lull us to sleep! We must wake up into the dream! We must, we must dream again, dreams of our own!"

The Caracan screams himself hoarse, sinking to the ground with trembling. The poor thing is not well, blood and vomit erupting from mouth and nose as it holds itself from a cold no one else could surely feel. "We must dream so the ruins may enter, to take us. So we are not forgotten."

**Deja Who?** · 2019-03-22, 08:42 AM (ISO 8601)

Janika by the Rocks

"What? No! I was just trying to cause him amusing grief." Janika frowned and dusted herself off.

"Be a good sport, Marah." Janika shouted behind her as she departed, offering a suggestion that they should meet back in a few weeks to see how the war progressed. The orc goddess frowned. How long could goblins hold their breath?

"You. Wind. What now? I have to go into Caldera and make preparations. This will be so fun. Conflict isn't done right unless it's fun."

Janika at Caldera

But Caldera was already at Caldera, watching the war progress. She watched with a frown as Laughs-Without-Mirth grandstanded himself, walking around like a preening peacock. Preys-Upon-the-Weak stayed back sending his calvary in to try and strike at the powerful orc from the side.

Eats-Rocks-for-Power was standing guard, his eyes ever darting over towards the goblin with the book. If he could get that power again he could become a Khan himself and not have to worry about disgrace. So when Laughs-Without-Mirth came for the Khan Preys-Upon-the-Week, Eats-Rocks-For-Power wasn't there to stop him.

"Give me that book!" The small goblin shouted, his feet finally taking him across the battlefield, before he lunged at Reaper-of-Souls.

Janika, however, was distracted, and approached the battle, dispatching goblins on both sides that seemed to forgot who this female orc was in the midst of battle.

"It's so disappointing. I was impressed with you. It's one thing to invade here, this shiny city, and I would have rewarded you." Janika said, her anger rising, as Laughs-Without-Mirth noticed her, his axe taking Preys-Upon-The-Weak's eye before turning to face her. "But when you get these goblins to worship you that's encroaching on my turf. You're nothing but a mortal and now you're trying to come for my job? I have to put you down, just as a matter of course."

"I am the strong-"

"Prove it. Prove Janika isn't real."

Laughs-Without-Mirth's eyes widened, but he still looked pretty smug. The two circled each other before joining in battle, Janika starting off just enjoying herself against the very powerful orc. Preys-Upon-the-Weak got help for his injury and stepped off the battle field. The god of war and battle suddenly pressed her attack and allowed herself to get cut but it was worth it as Laughs-Without-Mirth's arm came off with a sickening cleaving of bone. Blood poured from the orcs word.

"Finish me." He spat.

"No. No you don't deserve an honorable death. I'm going to make an example of you so no mortal tries this stunt again." Janika smiled a slasher smile and the orc on his knees before her looked terrified. The sadistic god took a small moment to mutilate his face even more with his own axe, severed along with his arm.

"May your days be long on this world, your life extended in misery. Let no food or drink satisfy your hunger, let it remain as unquenched as your thirst for power. No creature look at you and not recoil. Let you find no home, hovel, or shelter from the pain. No water will bare such a creature over it, it will reject you. You will find no protection or peace in your days. Stay in the shades and dark places, let your suffering be tremendous. And this curse will extend to those goblins that.. 'worship' you. You will be reviled by goblins, outcasts, worse than nothing. Never try to mess with my business."

Spoiler

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AP: 1
PAP: 1

Curse (1 PAP) - [Brand of Blasphemy]: Janika put a mark on the soul of the orc who would be a god, and cursed him in the sight of all the sisterhood. No food or drink will satisfy him, no water will allow him to cross, no goblin will accept him into their home, and he's ugly. They aren't under Selima's protection so Chyron's gaze in the day time hurts them again. And he has a slightly extended lifespan, as well as his clan.

AP: 1

**GSisco** · 2019-03-22, 09:15 AM (ISO 8601)

The Caldera: The Goblin Wars

Reaper-Of-Souls stepped out of the way of the tiny goblin that attacked him. "You think you can challenge me?"

"I need the power. It will save us. I shall be the khan that saves us. I need it. Give it to me."

As the goblin lunges again, Reaper-Of-Souls smacks him aside.

"Share some of your power with him. Make him your companion. You shall have your army. But you must become more of me."

Reaper-Of-Souls stopped. His lord was speaking to him. He didn't understand what exactly Nasigune was getting at until the pages displayed a new ritual. Then with a smile he looked at Eats-Rocks-For-Power. "Swear your life in service to me and my lord and I shall give you the power you seek."

As soon as the goblin made the oath, Reaper-Of-Souls, set to work, setting up the ritual in the woods.

**RolandDeschain** · 2019-03-22, 06:00 PM (ISO 8601)

Ilianthos - The Realm of Light

As Tomorrow's Dawn emerged from the bloom of Ilianthos, tendrils of golden radiance from the Resplendent Realms beyond unfurled within the Tree of Light's luminous pedals. There hidden within the heart of the blossom itself a gateway to the Resplendent Realms permanently resides.

Spoiler: AP Accounting

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With ChaoticHarmony's expressed permission.

Create Portal(2PAP Marah/Looloodi) - The Radiant Floret is a portal linking the First World to the Resplendent Realms(or Realm of Light if you prefer). Looloodi's connection with her worldly avatar that can be traversed by both gods and mortals. Note - The Sisters overspent on the Weave Plane Action, and Marah's PAP was the last, which Looloodi is finishing with this action(Weave Plane 4 + Create Portal 2).

Sororitas Pantheon claims the LIGHT sphere 10/10

**LordArgon** · 2019-03-22, 07:05 PM (ISO 8601)

We Live in a Society
Blessed with the presence of their divine creator, Saug religion was fully unified affair. Being able to walk up to their towering creator and ask questions of him left little need for theological debate. The religion mainly worshiped Mefthil, the Creator and Sololond, the One Above All. There was also reverence for the one who created the land Janika and the one who made the sea Marah. They cursed the foul demonic Tenebron and his gears of stone. The other gods were ignored, since they did nothing for the Saug. When Mefthil eventually left, he gave them a great book of power, called the Necromnicon. Using the book they created a giant beast of burden, to help move with building their temples and cities. After their deity's departure they built great tiered temples of stone to their creator and offered sacrifice of food, drink, and art in the rainforests. In the swamps they built more humble shrines, but made up for it with their numerous festivals to praise their creator. The tenants of the religion were simple, treat all strangers as friends and always help a friend in need.
The government of the Saug was greatly influenced by their religion. Since they saw all as equals and friends, unless proven otherwise, the Saug formed a democratic republic to govern their lands. Each town and village would form their own local council and that council would send representatives to the main senate. The senate also dealt with foreign relations, sending explorers and diplomats to find other nations. Calling themselves the Republic of Mefaun, they began building their capitol, also called Mefaun, on the halfway point between swamp and jungle.

Spoiler: BOTTOM TEXT

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AP 3 + 4: 7AP
Create Society (2AP): The Republic of Mefaun. A republic centered in the capitol city of Mefaun. The Senate House is built in the indentation left by Mefthil's resting body. In the swamp, more simple wooden structures are used, while in the jungle stone blocks are used instead. The main divinity of the Saug is their creator Mefthil, but other gods are also worshiped. [Protection(Hospitality)9/10]
Create Monstrous Life (Artifact Charge): Glok Sphee. Large lumbering turtle-like creatures. Instead of a round shell, their shell is flat so it can better hold goods on its back. They have soft wet skin and prefer humid environments. They are the height of large cow, but are four times as wide as one. Quite slow and docile, they are the perfect pack animal.
New AP Total : 7 -2 = 5AP

**GSisco** · 2019-03-22, 08:12 PM (ISO 8601)

Nasigune: The Goblin City

The ritual was completed. A six pointed star was drawn in blood in the grass, various symbols spread throughout it. In three of the points were Nasigune, Reaper-Of-Souls, and Eats-Rocks-For-Power. In each of the points between them sat a large piece of Looloodite. In the center was the chalice, filled with blood from,both of the goblins.

As Reaper-Of-Souls set the final piece of everything into place, the lines and runes began to glow. Then the two triangles forming the six sided star began to spin in opposite directions. As the stones pass by the beings, pieces of them were exchanged.

Nasigune sacrificed portions of soul which were forced into Reaper-Of-Souls, who passed his life energy to the smaller goblin, who in turn gave his energy to Nasigune.

Soon changes overwhelmed all three of them. Reaper-Of-Souls became stronger, taller, and seemed to eminate power and authority. Eats-Rocks-For-Power was similarly transformed to resemble the stature of Reaper-Of-Souls before the ritual.

The change they weren't expecting was in Nasigune. She rose, pages flipping wildly. This wasn't part of it. She was supposed to become stronger but this was beyond what she had intended. She couldn't handle it. She was trying to split herself to power her servant but something else was trying to pull her away.

In the moments that the ritual concluded, everything stopped and collapsed to the ground, except Nasigune, who lit with light and in an instant, had gone from this world.

Reaper-Of-Souls couldn't think to deal with it. He felt so powerful that for a moment he wondered if he had somehow taken all of the god's soul stuff. But no, it couldn't be that. He felt some trace feeling in the back of his mind, as though he was tied to Nasigune. He was sure she was still out there somewhere. He would need to find her.

Then he looked to the goblin that was no longer a goblin. For now, I am in charge.

"Rise. You shall be the first of my forces. Together we shall make great things happen in the name of our lord and savior."

Spoiler: AP

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Starting AP 9

Raise Hero to Avatar: Reaper-Of-Souls is no longer merely a hero. Now he is the divine herald and representative of Nasigune and her power on the first World.

Domain Gained: Soul (Sacrifice) 10/10
-Mundane Concept: Soul
-Blessing: Looloodite works as soul stones
-Blessing: Soul stones can be consumed for power boosts
-Curse: Looloodite is highly addictive
-Mythic Concept: Enchanting
-Raise Hero to Avatar: Reaper-Of-Souls

Create Mythic Race: Vampires - Vampires can be made from any sentient race. They are made through the traditional blood transfusion way except in this case it is soul energy that needs to be transfused. They are still alive and still function as such except that most bodily needs are satisfied by consuming the soul energy of other living creatures. Their key abilities center around fueling the souls of other creatures to strengthen them or heal them more quickly.

Domain Gained: Life (Vampires) 10/10
-Mythic Concept: Rituals
-Raise Hero: Reaper-Of-Souls
-Mythic Race: Vampires

ASCENSION

Remaining AP: 3

**RolandDeschain** · 2019-03-22, 09:21 PM (ISO 8601)

Kapet, Catan

The fire swept through the town with brutal efficiency, consuming everything in its path and leaving nothing but ash and charred timbers in its wake. It wasn't the first fire that had swept through the town, but it was by far the most devastating, and the townfolk that survived came to call it "the Devouring". There were rumors aplenty as to the cause of the fire. Some blamed it on a lantern kicked over by mistress Oleu's cow. Others claimed that Consul Damu started the fire himself and danced a jig as the fire consumed the lower quarter, and many thought the fire was set by the Horrorscopes.

The fire consumed everything on the south side of the Siba River, and was barely contained on the wealthier north side before it completely destroyed the Faith Hall. The only parts of the town that were untouched were the Mer Quarter and the Temple of Mamona. The Faith Hall and Conclave were both partially burned and charred. Though the loss of life was truly tragic, in truth Consul Damu wasn't terribly saddened to see the old hand-sawed timber framed buildings go. The disaster would serve as the exact catalyst he needed to leave his indelible mark on the office he currently held. He knew he had a bit of a reputation as a ruthless bastard, and it suited his purpose well. The speech he gave to Conclave would have blistered the paint, if it wasn't already so. He demanded the nobles open their coffers and have the town....no city, rebuilt, and properly so.

Calling in the craftsmen from his country estate, he instructed them to come up with a better, stronger method of construction than the drystone and daub build of his manor house. It wasn't long before the foundation stones of an impressively large and formal Conclave building with semi detached Consul Manor were being laid. Mater Siku complained as did her husband, former Consul Burnu, about building a new Faith Hall first, but that wasn't in Damu's plans. First he would oversee the construction of new government buildings, then cobbled streets, then a new bridge spanning the Siba that wasn't susceptible to collapsing every spring.

Soon the city rang with the sounds of hammer on anvil, forging the myriad stone chisels for "Damu the Builder's" many projects.

Spoiler: Artwork

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I'm envisioning the Settlers city of Kapet to be Second (French) Empire architectural style.

Spoiler: AP Accounting

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Beginning AP = 5 AP

Teach Populous(1AP) - Metalsmithing [Inspiration(Discovery)9/10]
Create Mundane Concept(1AP) - Concrete/Masonry [Inspiration(Discovery)10/10]

Ending AP = 5AP -1AP -1AP = 3AP

CLAIM DOMAIN INSPIRATION(DISCOVERY) 10/10

*Selima ascends as a Lesser Deity

**ChaoticHarmony** · 2019-03-22, 10:18 PM (ISO 8601)

Looloodi: Within the branches of Ilianthos

"Poor Sissy.......she is, like, so stuck in her head, she totally didn't even hear my question! Guess I'll just let her be....." Looloodi mutters to herself as she effortlessly scales the body of her precious tree. As she reaches the highest branch, a small smile dances on her lips. In her hands are the seeds of her new race, her babies. The knowledge that these mortals shall truly know and be like her fills her with excitement, and the purpose instilled in their souls will no doubt bring more beauty into this desperate ugly would is an unending joy. Raising her hand, she gently blows the seeds from her palm, scattering them across all the lands. Looloodi looks out onto the Mortal World for a moment longer, then moves toward to new portal her Sister has made in the center of her bloom. There is another world that needs her tending.

Caldera: A Green Encounter

"Come on Come on! Lazy Slaves Lazy Slaves! We teach you We tea-" A hard backhand hits Speaks-Twice across his face, effectively cowing the moronic goblin. "Enough of your jabbering fool! These fresh slaves won't learn anything right if you keep prattling on." Catches-Many-Kobold's shakes her fist angrily at her now bruised companion. Why is it she is always the one who has to work with these weak fools? She looks over her shoulder at today's catch, five Kobolds, three male, two female, all heavily bruised from the beating she and Speaks-Twice gave them. Taking up the rear was, in Catches-Many-Kobolds opinion, the most pathetic and weak orc she had ever met, Whimpers-Like-Child. At least Speaks-Twice isn't a useless bag of garbage in a fight. He barely loses stride after taking a hit to the head. Meanwhile the weak fool tears up when even a slave scrapes his knee. Glaring straight at him, Catches-Many-Kobold's yanks on the chain in her hand, roughly pulling Kobold's forward. "Pick up the pace you maggots! We'll be at the city soon."

"Looky Looky! Pretty Lady Pretty Lady! I Want I Want!" Speaks-Twice begins jumping up and down excitedly, pointing ahead at the path. Whimpers-Like-Child perks up at this noise, and begins looking around "P-pretty Lady? W-where? W-why w-would there b-be a p-pretty lady h-here?" "Up Ahead Up Ahead! See See?" Catches-Many-Kobolds refocuses her attention back to the front. There was a strange woman there. Curious, she is unlike anything Catches-Many-Kobolds has ever seen. She was green, like a goblin, but much too tall to be one, and much too small to be an orc. Her hair, which was strangely also green, was pinned up with what appeared to be flower stems, with several bright pink flowers popping all over it. Her face was perfectly flawless as well, almost like a young halfing child, the kind of face that any goblin would love to possess in one way or another. And those eyes! If Catches-Many-Kobolds were made of softer stuff, she would simply buckle in desire with the way those eyes pierced her. Not to mention the leaves and vines she seemed to be wearing didn't leave her finely shaped figure to the imagination....

"Why did you hurt such adorable creatures? What did they do to deserve you making them Ugly with such marks?" The strange woman suddenly asks, her voice lilting and soft, yet full of.....something...demand? Catches-Many-Kobolds shakes her head, trying to snap herself out of it. With a cruel sneer she responds. "For the same reason you'll be joining them. You all belong to us now! Come along quietly or we'll have to rough up your pretty face as well." "Do you not value Life then? Seems your kind will have much to learn........" Why wasn't this woman afraid? She is clearly much weaker than them and is definitely outnumbered three to one.....well...two and a half to one.

"Pretty Lady Pretty Lady! Make Mine Make Mine Now!" Speaks-Twice quickly charges the lone woman, malicious intent clear in his eyes as he pulls out a long dagger, aiming to drive it into her shoulder before having his way with this new prize. The green woman doesn't even flinch at his sudden charge, only seeming to mumble something under her breath. It doesn't matter, the goblin jumps up, moving to pounce on his helpless victim. "All Mine All M-" Silence suddenly fills the air as Catches-Many-Kobolds watches her former comrade dangle in the air, a vine wrapped around his neck. The woman stares straight ahead. "No one who would mar Beautiful Life for no reason, deserves to live." She says coldly, slowly walking past the corpse towards the remaining group.

"What is this! Where are your allies! I will slaughter you all for defying us like this!" "My allies are all around us. This forest shall be my friend, for it knows and has learned the needless violence you kind has committed in it. It shall help me and my future kin protect the true Beauty of Life. Your kin may yet learn gratefullness for the bounty Life has given you, but I feel you shall not learn this lesson." What Nonsense! This woman is crazy! Goblins have always done what they pleased, and she wasn't going to be any different just because some insane buddy tells her to. Drawing her axe, Catches-Many-Kobold's cries out in rage against this new enemy. Before she can take a step however, wooden spikes pierce her hands, eliciting howls of pain. Looking at her hands, she realizes the spikes grew out of the wooden handle of her axe! "HOW! WHY?" "Something you will never understand. Now help Life thrive by giving it yours." A second vine shoots down from the trees, rapidly wrapping around the throat of the orc hunter and snapping her neck with cruel effectiveness.

The Kobold's quickly free themselves of their bonds, the sudden murder of their captors providing ample time to escape back into the wilderness. Hopefully, they can find their families so they may tell of the strange new creature who helped them. It would do well to seek her out later to properly thank her.

Whimpers-Like-Child watches these events unfold in terror, curled up in a ball on the ground. This wasn't supposed to happen. This was supposed to go well, to teach him to be stronger and brave. He was supposed to follow in his family's footsteps to become a great warrior, but could never bring himself to harm anyone. He was supposed to become a real man after Catches-Many-Kobolds toughened him up, not watch her die so pathetically. [Color=pink]"Hmmmm......you don't seem to hold much Malice......and I must say.....you are rather cute....[color] the strange woman looks down upon the whimpering orc, her coldness melting away as her protective nature kicks in. "Do not worry my dear, I do not kill without reason, and you have given me none. My apologies for having to do that to your comrades.....perhaps we can help each other though?" Such a kind and pretty face. She does seem genuinely sorry. How can such a small thing do was she did? Whimpers-like-Child slowly nods his head, tears still streaming from his face as the nymph takes a seat next to him. "You may call me Chrysa"

Spoiler: AP Usage

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Started with 1/16 AP 1/1 PAP

Rollover +4 AP

Giving PAP to Selima

Ended with 5/16 AP 0/1 PAP

**TheDarkDM** · 2019-03-23, 01:26 AM (ISO 8601)

Nemesis

Ouroboros

Nemesis stood contented as the serpent of chains materialized above his Anvil. His eye drawn inexorably to the swirling infinity extending along Ouroboros’s tail, he eventually met the gaze of his second son. He smiled at the first question, the desire for a duty he was all too willing to provide.

"You awake to a land in its infancy, my son, awash in the creations of lesser gods. Though they share our divine gift, most have chosen to abdicate the responsibility that comes with such power. They create recklessly and wantonly, spreading their mortal seed across Creation with little thought to the tapestry they weave. Tribe wars upon tribe, brother turns on brother, all driven by mortal minds consumed with petty impulse. The world beyond the shores of this island is anarchy, and there is no greater offense to a worthy Creator."

Nemesis raised his hand, and in the smoke and fume around them the images of far-flung continents emerged in stark tableau. The Caldera, the Mer, the expanse of the Savage Land.

"You will be the agent of this world's restoration. Where you go, savagery will fall to noble strength, ignorance will burn beneath the light of wisdom. You shall be the crucible that purifies the strong and purges the weak. And in your passing, the children of absentee gods shall turn their eyes towards the heavens and praise your name."

The dark god smiled.

"And mine. Our labor is no less than salvation through destruction, my son. The redemption of every wayward soul."

A glow began to emanate from Nemesis’s reforged palm, the image of a crown in interlocking spires. Reflected in the eyes of Ouroboros, the pattern began to turn of its own accord, a grinding engine to adorn the new god’s head.

"Will you take up this cup?"

Magog

Returning to Akkraul after his great labors at the Anvil of Creation, Nemesis smiled at the rapid progress of his firstborn. Harmony had been forged from the disorder of Enkidan’s arrival, his unruly gifts alloyed with their progenitors into a greater whole. Towering above them from his mountainside, Nemesis did not stride among them as before, but instead reached out to feel the essence of his creations. They were mighty, their greatness reflecting his own, but something gave Nemesis pause. The ranks of ogre and troll swelled with every passing day, while his giants remained still and eternal. They were as he had made them, but his dissatisfaction had seen a great swathe of them annihilated into dust. Were another divine to turn a baleful eye on Karam-Kor, how long might they survive without the means to restore themselves?

Nemesis’s gaze wandered idly as he pondered the Giants’ dilemma, only to freeze upon a now-common sight. An idol of Mamona, gleaming in the red light of Karam-Kor, being tended to by a devoted Giant. Nemesis’s mind returned to their encounter on the beach, and his burning blood began to quicken. He reached out his hand, to the volcanic rock below his feet, punching through the crust of the earth to the primal magma below. As he had at the dawning of Creation, he began to sculpt, shaping a body like and yet unlike his previous works. Where the first Giants had been reflections of his own perfection, this one feminine form reminiscent of bothe Mamona and Looloodi. When he finished, Nemesis examined the amazon he had wrought, and with a final nod of contentment breathed fiery life into the shell. More followed, one for every Giant yet living in Akkraul, and with their coming their male kin were imbued with a drive yet unknown to them yet familiar to every other living creature. Soon, Giant children would walk the streets of the First City, and their future would be assured.

His labors ended, Nemesis stepped down to walk amongst his people, his stature now no more than four times that of his creations. He smiled as they collapsed to their knees in awe, blessing each with his attention until he came before Magog.

"My son. I come with glad tidings. Another child has sprung from my flesh, a brother to you and heir to another grand destiny. He has gone in pursuit of his purpose, but I have no doubt you will meet in time."

Urad and the Iron Road

At the peak of Karam-Kor, Nemesis brooded. Karam-Kor had grown strong, stronger than he might have hoped at its creation, but for all its strength they were yet vulnerable. The mad gods of the south had come in force once before, and left little doubt of their murderous intent. In time, they would come again.

The Anvil of Creation thrummed in anticipation when he approached, glassy surface conjuring a menagerie of horrors from the light of his eyes. Once more the hammer of fire leapt to answer his call, and from the blackest heart of the planet flowed an ore that had never dreamt of light. He drove the shapeless first-iron into divine stone, and with every strike the hammer of fire recoiled. Twisting like a snake in his hands, it sensed the coming doom, but could not contest the will of its creator. A long hexagonal shaft began to take shape, its angles and lines so sharp and straight as to drive mortal blacksmiths mad. One side ended in a six-pronged crown, a handle coiling up from it like the coils of a snake. The other was capped with a brutal hammer, one side a hexagonal spike flared to an edged star, the other curving into a rectangular maul. The terrible weapon thrummed in concert with the Anvil of Creation, and Nemesis struck a final blow. But where before iron had bent to fire, now fire engulfed iron in serpentine ribbons. Every surface of the great war hammer began to glow with hellish energy, until at last even that faded to naught but a glowing core. Steam and brimstone erupted from the handle as Nemesis took it in hand, raising it above his head in triumph.

"I name you Urad, the Doom Surpassing Heaven."

He laughed then, and swung the hammer of doom against his anvil for the first time. The echo shook Karam-Kor to its very foundation, fire erupting around Nemesis as he grappled with the might that he had forged. No mortal in Akkraul kept their feet, but in the echoing reverberation came new wisdom, a madness that would soon be refined even as they smelted iron into steel. Overcome by divine revelation, the Giants only regained their feet when they saw Nemesis descending towards them, Urad in hand.

"Rejoice, my people. As I have given you life and light, so you have given me the worship I am due. But there remain lands beyond Karam-Kor, that would deny your mastery and refuse my wisdom. No longer!"

Nemesis raised his hammer high, conjuring storm clouds around its blazing head. He struck the mountainside outside the city with devastating force, rending a great crevasse flanked by jagged menhirs. Yet Kara-Kor did not feel the blow. Instead, half a world away, one of the mountains surrounding the Caldera suddenly burst to ruinous and fiery life. Molten rock and liquid fire poured down upon savannah and rainforest alike, and in the core of the wounded mountain another crevasse yawned into darkness.

"My Iron Roads will carry you to all lands in need of guidance, all peoples who wander without purpose. Bind them to yourselves as I have bound you to Akkraul, that all might prosper as one!"

A great roar went up from the throats of the titans. Soon, it would echo from the four corners of the earth.

Spoiler: AP

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Free AP: 12
Spent AP: 20

1 AP - Bless, Female Giants (Life (Giants))
Cognizant that even the tallest mountain will eventually crumble if not renewed, Nemesis crafts a second wave of Giants, daughters to compliment his first sons. With them comes the possibility of natural reproduction among the Giants, though it is a slow and sacred process in comparison to the fecundity of lesser races.

5 AP - Create Greater Artifact, Combat (Corruption (Ambition))

2 AP - Create Advanced Concept, Metallurgy (Life (Giants))

1 AP - Alter Land, The Wounded Mountain (Corruption (Ambition))

1 AP - Bless, The Iron Roads (Corruption (Ambition))
The broken crevasse on the side of Karam-Kor is linked to the Wounded Mountain of the Caldera by a supernal gate. Entering on either side leads to a long, cavernous tunnel of raw iron and glowing magma, comfortable environs for titans but trying conditions for all other life. Traversing this tunnel requires scant hours of travel, allowing rapid transit between Karam-Kor and the First Land.

Domain Progress:
Craft (Metalworking) - 10/10
Life (Giants) - 10/10
Corruption (Ambition) - 10/10

**The Succubus** · 2019-03-23, 06:45 AM (ISO 8601)

The Great Rat (featuring Selima)

Entertainment

Life among the crags was certainly interesting, thought Niteclor. Challenging, with a high chance of death, but never dull. It had been many year since Scardun, now Craglord Scardun, had lead them from the desert to their new home among the spires. There was a thick jungle among their bases, which provided food in various forms, such as succulent fruits which hung from the trees, meat from various small, harmless animals and meat from various large and incredibly dangerous animals. In addition to food, the jungle floor was also home to insects with a wide range of deadly and agonising poisons and venoms, which the mongooses had used to develop their skills at assassination quite considerably. The cost had been high – many of the early settlers had been bitten or stung by the creatures and there had been a lot of long, slow uncomfortable deaths as a result.

Niteclor leaned over the edge of the cliff, gazing down into a clearing just below. A small mongoose stood in the centre, its fur caked in blood, drool, muck and gods alone knew what else. Surrounding it was a large circle of dead wild animals, broken spears and empty vials of venom. It had become something of a rite of passage for younger mongooses – to go into the jungle alone and return after a week or so. If they survived, then they would be accepted as a full fledged member of the clan. If they did not....he shrugged.

Niteclor turned his gaze away from the bloodbath below and upwards. There were nests clinging to the sides of the crags, small woven buildings where the mongooses dwelt. The nests were very much functional buildings, with little in the way of decoration. Luxuries were not an important part of mongoose culture – it was experiences that mongooses lived for. Combat, stalking prey, mating and family, the sheer thrill of fighting for one's life...

A roar echoed up from the clearing. His gaze returned to settle on what appeared to be an enormous cat, with razor sharp teeth and claws. The mongoose looked incredibly small before it, a helpless prey animal. The cat was shocked when the mongoose let loose a loud terrifying screech and launched itself directly at its face. The roar transmuted into a wail as the mongoose fasted its teeth around the cat's nose and rammed a paw into it's eyesocket.

It was the small things that made life fun, after all.

Spoiler: AP Expenditure:

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Create society: The Clan of the Crags (1 AP + additional AP from Selima): A mongoose clan has settled among the crags. It is heavily focused on survival and resilience, living from day to day among the dangerous flora and fauna in the jungle. They live in woven basket-like nests that cling to the sides of the crags, connected by walkways and long lengths of creeper. Water often trickles down the sides of the crags, providing a clean, fresh supply of water. Mongooses have little time for fripperies and luxuries, instead valuing experience and sensation above material goods. The clan is ruled over by a Craglord, currently Scardun, along with a handful (pawful) of experienced fighters and assassins. There is sometimes a little disagreement about leadership of the clan but there is always space for a few more skulls to dangle below Scardun's nest.

**GSisco** · 2019-03-23, 07:47 AM (ISO 8601)

Nasigune: Lost In Ruins

After the ritual was interrupted, Nasigune felt more powerful than she ever had before. But things were different. She was alone again. Was she back in her ruin? Where was the entrance to the dungeon? Where was Reaper-Of-Souls. She could still feel him, so he was out there. What was going on? She was back in a ruin, so perhaps the others were here again.

Then she realized that she wasn't complete. She was missing pieces. Was she dying?

Reaper-Of-Souls: The Caldera

Before returning to the warring goblins, Reaper-Of-Souls spent time looking for his lord. He knew it was hopeless. She was farther away than this. He did find something though. The Index of Creation. Quickly he snatched up the book and made his way back to the goblin war.

**Razade** · 2019-03-23, 08:50 AM (ISO 8601)

Originally Posted by GSisco

Nasigune: Lost In Ruins

After the ritual was interrupted, Nasigune felt more powerful than she ever had before. But things were different. She was alone again. Was she back in her ruin? Where was the entrance to the dungeon? Where was Reaper-Of-Souls. She could still feel him, so he was out there. What was going on? She was back in a ruin, so perhaps the others were here again.

Then she realized that she wasn't complete. She was missing pieces. Was she dying?

She wasn't. It was an honest fear however, for Gods could die. Gods did die. The ruins were evidence of that as strewn about their basalt walls there stood monuments to those who never were. Those who had been, even if briefly. A giant eel's body drifted languidly through the sky. It was bright once, ribbons of now dead light ran along its mighty body. A blizzard had been here in these ruins once. Now only the body of a wolf tucked upon itself stood at its center. The ice remained. The ruined hall stretched as far as the eye could see and in the distance something dead stirred.

It was massive. Larger than any God the book might have seen. If a book could see. It was forged from thousands of skeletons, thousands of skulls and a wardrobe of funeral and it rasped against the basalt stone with barely a whisper. The Corpse Snake wound and wound about the ruined hall until three skulls with beaming eye sockets pierced the gloom above.

"What wonder." hissed a thousand voices at once as it's mighty gaze down upon the world once more where it spread across the fallen bodies of other gods and beings and from them, only rarely, a plaintiff cry would rise and shamble off into the gloom as if pulled by an unseen will that lingered within the ruins itself.

"You are not among the dead. Eat, as Gods do." The vast creature spread one of its many arms about and bread and water were laid before Nasigune. "How did it come to this realm, the realm of Yen'Shi the Corpse Dragon? How did it get so lost?"

**Jade_Tarem** · 2019-03-23, 09:41 AM (ISO 8601)

Ouroboros

Nemesis

"I shall." The words were swift but not hurried. They were a metallic rasp, but free of desperation. The serpentine deity knew that this action would limit him in some ways, cut off avenues of growth... but it opened more, and Nemesis spoke true. His head, however, had no place for a crown in the traditional sense. Upon taking the offered symbol, it instead changed, and changed him with it. From the head link, and several behind it, emerged a majestic interlocking hood. Within its folds could be seen the shining engine of reclamation that his father had spoken of. The sensation was painful, for an instant, and in that moment Ouroboros realized that growth could indeed hurt. Rather than dissuading him, however, it merely provided insight into how the world could be filled with such wasted potential. Naturally, lesser beings would shy away from such a thing. It followed, then, that he was likely to be an enemy of theirs, at least nominally.

No matter. They would praise him later.

Transformation complete, he gazed once again at the fading images Nemesis had conjured. His father's witness was informative, but not enough. No, nowhere near enough. "It is finished. With your leave, I shall learn more about these lands beyond." Despite those words, Ouroboros did not move - at least at first. He instead coiled up, as though preparing to strike. His eyes flashed, the pattern within his hood shimmered, and above, a thunder was heard. Then the serpent moved, all at once, launching himself skyward toward his first creation.

Random growth would solve nothing. He needed to learn to know how to grow in a way that would bring things forward, and an instinct instilled in him - perhaps by his father, or the nature of his very being - told him to make tools for this task. And really, why start small?

At the apex of his arc, Ouroboros flicked his tail and one of the indefinite links spun off. It, too, hurtled through the sky for a moment before stopping and then enlarging. It grew, and branched, and grew, and branched, expanding in a web of ringed platforms linked by gently swaying yet sturdy bridges. This continued until it sat high above the clouds, far larger than the island he had left yet somehow less substantial. From those magnificent rings grew still more - odd, crystalline flora and fauna, his first attempt at creating life. Someone would need to live here, after all... to maintain and improve it, if nothing else.

His work was still not finished - in the center of the largest rings, each its own size, a substance filled in, forming and hardening into two massive lenses - and there would be room for more. Into these, Ouroboros poured a great deal of power. Gazing through them at the world far away, they magnified the strange and the fantastic, allowing him to Observe possibilities others might miss. When the world gazed back, they could see the outlines in a clear sky, crescents of reflected light and rings of shadow, faintly visible in the day or night. They were far too large to move, and he rather suspected that another god on his plane might be able to use them as well, but this, too, was calculated. With the same unflinching certainty with which he had donned his father's crown, he settled on the name of Panopticon for this place. He couldn't wait to see what it could show him, and to see what it became.

Spoiler: OOC - AP expenditures

Show

Total AP Spent: 15
AP Remaining: 1

Join Pantheon (Shining Court): 1 AP
Create Plane (Panopticon): 4 AP (Details about beings inhabiting it will follow)
Create Major Utility Artifact (The Lens of Fantasy): 5 AP - Reduces the cost of the Create Mythical Concept action
Create Major Utility Artifact (The Lens of Legends): 5 AP - Reduces the cost of the Create Mythical Life action

**Tychris1** · 2019-03-23, 10:56 AM (ISO 8601)

Slumped at the edge of the civilized world, Enkidan watched over its burgeoning empire with dull delight, and hissed a wondrous tune at the sight of Nemesis working in the distance. This would be a fine home, a great banquet that Enkidan would eternally have a seat upon, and they relished in how easily it had all come to them. Yet for all they had eaten and regurgitated Enkidan felt a different sensation rattling within its void like maw. The various vines and roots enshrouded around the creature many days prior by Nemesis had grown rotted, fetid, and weak from exposure before ultimately snapping under Enkidan's newly gained mass. Rolling down the hill Enkidan gazed at the world around it in motion and did nothing to stop its rapid descent through Karam-Kor. Slamming against sharp and mighty rocks below, Enkidan found itself on the edge of the Titanic Lands and looked upon the vast sprawling ocean before it. This was what burned within the Gluttons Gullet. A thirst that had not been quenched but with the blood of slain giants. Craning its thick extended head down to the ocean the oily god began to slurp, sup, and inhale vast swathes of oceanic life and saltwater in pure ignorance of the horrid taste. The meer sensation of steam rising off its frame was enough of a stimulus to incite the creature to further disparate consumption and so it lazily clawed at the sand below, meekly convincing any creature it could find to help tow it along in exchange for shiny baubles or food.

None were given.

Head submerged the creature looked out over the vast ocean and the lands of many felt its devastating gaze. Lethargy seeped through the ocean like poison through a cup of water, a single black drop spooling rapidly out of control, and guided by the glorious enthralling light of refined civilizations gold.

Spoiler: Actions

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0 (charge from crown) AP Curse: The Rakshasa are gripped with overwhelming lethargy, growing ever more reliant upon the slaves and resources they have accrued and leaving their temples in disarray and irrepair (Save those of Mamona and Nemesis).

1 AP Curse: The Mer grow ever more idolatrous and superstitious, their trade weakened by the defensive bigotry festering in their hearts at the Rakshasa's encroaching evil, and they begin to view all other ocean faring races as savage invaders.

6/10 Sloth (Command) Domain

3 AP Remaining

But then edit rollover so 7 AP Remaining.

**Toxic Mind** · 2019-03-23, 01:28 PM (ISO 8601)

Originally Posted by mystic1110

Tale of Marah in the Raj

The Rakshasa that had 'captured' the disguised goddess was not meant for great things. Indeed, his luck started to turn probably from the moment he acquired his strange new slave. The Rakshasa instinctively knew that its place in the society of the Raj would depend on the quantity and quality of its servants and so was ashamed at their low number. While journeying towards his homeland he had come upon the shore of the Protectorate where the Rakshasa landowner of that shore met him and they signed many contracts of allegiance for a paltry sum of three devoted humans. His hunting in the desert led to no new servants and the Giants fended off his attacks. Needless to say, he had come to the raj quiet poor. What's more, outside the Mer slave, the rest of his slaves, including the ones he paid for in Pact, had perished on the journey or his hunts. Poverty didn't even cover his shame as he had to announce himself and listen to a human servant of a great Rakshasa order him around and decree his standing.

His new property in the Raj was paltry, but he feared to go to the Protectorate to make his fortune due to the contracts he signed. They contained clauses of non-compete and other promises. Instead, he felt that he either had to resign himself to a life in the Raj (poor, but of relative leisure and power) or even disguise himself as another race and ascend their own leadership. He took his lone Mer servant to the Palace district to pray for the guidance of what to do.

The Temple district was busy this time of year, just finishing the festival of spores which Rakshasa and even slaves ran around playfully throwing clumps of colored spore at each other. The spores would stay still in the water and the whole district would look like the inside of a chaotic rainbow. The Rakshasa and his servant ran to the nearest Palace to avoid the festivities and that Palace happened to be the Palace of Marah, the Goddess of Binding. The Palace controlled not by the Kalam, had a large statue of Marah sitting in lotus and holding out her hands in benediction. She was the goddess of the holy ocean and the Rakshasa prayed to her out loud wondering how could he make his fortune within the ocean when all signs pointed that he should leave its holy waters and breath unholy air for wealth.

Rich, deep laughter echoes around the Rakshasha as he finishes his prayer. It comes from all around him, inside him. Yet, he has the distinct sense that it is not laughing at him, he has endured enough of that today to know its burn, but rather at the prayer itself. No one other than him seems to have heard the laughter and even his slave stares mindlessly at the statue of the goddess without movement. "Is that truly what you want?" A voice asks, laced with sadness and sympathy and worry. Like the laughter, it echoes, so the question repeats itself many times before its end - wish? wish? wish? The Rakshasa's mouth is dry, a seeming impossibility surrounded by water, and yet present all the same. He has felt shame and pride his whole life, but now a new emotion surfaces. It is not terror, not fear, but more like dread, the feeling of cosmic unimportance so vast it would swallow all of existence. He waited a long time before answering. In the end, he nods slowly, still bowed. It was obvious by now that the goddess, if it was indeed her, could see him. The last thing he remembered was the touch of a webbed hand on his shoulder, and extraordinary pain.

His first thought was that perhaps he had dreamed the encounter, for he was back on the sand outside the city of the Raj. So great was his sense of displacement, that he nearly stumbled. He does not, for there are two arms that subtly help him regain his balance. As he looks down, there are two burly human servants who help him. A smaller man, wearing some officious looking robes, mumbles softly "The footing is treacherous, most august personage. Should you wish, we can carry you." He waves them away as the disorientation passes. His gaze is drawn behind, to the train of slaves that follow. One, in particular, sparks some strange memory in him. A Mer woman, walking as her kind does when they serve, yet her back remains unbowed, and her eyes flash with a strange blue intelligence. She smiles at him in a way that makes him profoundly uncomfortable. There is no more time to ponder this, for the Raj await, and he travels through the gates. He is met by a Vaishya human, who looks him up and down before sneering "A train of slaves does not a true Kshatriya make." The Rakshasa grabs the man by the throat, fast as lightning, lifting him in the air. He squeezes, just enough to show how easy it would be to snap his spine, then tosses him bodily aside. To be addressed by a human was insult enough, and he would have killed him, but it was unwise, he thought, to make enemies before knowing this one's master. His slaves clap the man in chains, gag him, and bring him along. Today would not be spoiled by blood, unless it truly needed to be.

The memory of a past life fades already, like sand through a grasping palm.

Originally Posted by Draken

The darkness in the pit shifted. And then it rose, spiraling out like a serpent uncoiling, or a moray out of its den in the reef. A tower of dark water topped by an imitation of a mouth. A thing with a great whale's girth and many times the length.

And it spoke with a chorus of voices. Most of them from its cavernous maw lined with marble teeth and ringed with ashen whiskers.

"Queen Adira, you are as beautiful in person as in recollection. I greet you kind. Hello."

"Flattery." Responded the Queen, some surprise in her voice. Communication had been the first thing the Mer attempted, and all prior efforts had failed, or at least as far as they knew, failed. "You seem to have me at a loss - what should I call you?" There was an order to these things, a decorum that she had not expected to need, but knew all the same. Pleasantries to be observed.

Originally Posted by Razade

"This one" he huffed, sliding forward to join the Mer, "Is Edlyn, of the Mer, who serves the Queen Adira who rules beneath Waves." None of this had been rehearsed, Tides only stating they would make certain they were afforded a chief's titles and honors so they would not break the increasingly intricate rules of honor the Mer was instructed on during their trip. "It is said their songs can break stone, that they can make mockery of a Va'Derro in wave and stream. Their salts, pure. Greet them, as you great Tides that Break the Mountain. They are a guest." With a shuffle, all the chiefs bowed low to the ground until their chests brushed the dirt beneath them. The tent rang out in Derro tongue, a greeting to be certain. Servants were swiftly forward with Haash and bread, salt and beer as the Mer was led to the center.

Led to Shadow on Snow Peaks. There was trepidation in Tides, an uncertainty the Mer hadn't seen in their long journey. "Deals are uncertain and the future is dark." the octopus chief whispered in their walk. "This is not the one we'd thought to bring you but you will find them fair. Tell them what you have told us, meetings will be long but you are now a guest to all chiefs."

With that, the familiar portly face of Tides broke away. Shadow on Snow Peaks had been watching with interest this whole time. Silent, careful, calculating. The Mer could not be faulted if they mistook the cat-like Derro for a Caracan. They looked near enough though the light blue fur made it impossible to be fooled for long. With a motion, Shadow on Snow Peaks offered a seat to the Mer and yet more Haash, Za'Vat and wine.

"The Catfolk of the Plains spoke of your people to us when we traveled their lands." Their voice was rich, slow, obviously a little drunk. "We have made what little peace we may with them. This one calls one friend. We hope you as well will be named such. Tell us all, why you have come here. After you have eaten your fill, the journey was no doubt long. You find yourself in strange lands, rest. There is time for talk and time for whatever it is you wish from us and we from you."

The journey had been long, but Edlyn was not tired. He felt alive, the kind of alive that he felt when he and Ghita hunted the great predators that hunted them in kind. This, he thought, was truly exhilarating. There would be no Spellsong to soothe hurt feelings or calm emotions here - surrounded by too many to influence, even had he wanted it. It was words that would win or lose this day, and that brought true fire to Edlyn's blood. "Greetings, honored chief," Edlyn begins, "I come to offer trade between Derro and Mer. Our people have always believed that all the races of the world will one day be united. My friend brought me here, treated me and mine with honor, as have you. That is sign enough that our peoples can live in harmony and profit from one another. We offer the bountiful gifts of the ocean, and if you will permit it, a unique power. My friend Tides that Break the Mountain was offered this gift, and told me that it would be a great dishonor to take that which was not offered freely to all Derro. I will make that offer now, if you will see?"

Spoiler: AP Bookkeeping

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Starting AP: 11/16 3+2 Rollovers (8) PAP: 1/1

**Razade** · 2019-03-23, 07:44 PM (ISO 8601)

Shadow on Snow Peaks, Mer Envoy: The Valley of Chiefs

Shadow on Snow Peaks listens carefully. These were in truth the Mer that Jelu had spoken of so long ago. That Damu had mentioned in their meetings. With a clap the almost festival air throughout the rooms fell silent and all chiefs turned their gaze towards them. "This one greets you." Shadow on Snow Peak's voice rang out in the now silence. "You find us in strange times, the Derro have known war beyond its time. The Derro have spoken with the Caracan, your friends, and now you appear on our shores. This one trusts you do not come to influence us unduly and a friend of a chief is a friend to the Derro as surely as the light lays little on our lands."

Shadow on Snow Peaks stands, offering a hand to the Mer before walking them ever further into the center of the room. "We would see this gift, you stand before the united chiefs of our people. There is no better place than here to offer it."

The chief took a step back, an area was cleared though the chief knelt in conference with several of its men. Their voice was low and with the sussurant whispers of expectant chiefs it was all but impossible to know what was exchanged. No pressure, certainly, for the Mer.

A Derro: Lord Damu's Road

It had taken long weeks but on order of Shadow on Snow Peaks scouts had been sent to the lands of the Caracan. They carried a single message. A request, rare, from the chiefs of the Derro. A single observer to come and witness a promise made long ago. The Derro would unify as most they could, to honor friendships forged in the very town of Lord Damu. However, the observer would be little more than a glorified hostage. A move in good faith that the Caracan would not unduly effect the Derro's move to sovereignty.

The Oceans of Ever-Night

Beyond the realm of light, where the Dawnfly and the Tree’s glory did not pierce, the oceans were cold. Dark. Choked with vast shelves of ice where warmth could never thaw their vast reaches. But the Oceans of Ever-Night were not empty. The ice sheets and glaciers were not alone. There had been Vagrants here, Vagabonds too, though they had long since died out. Mostly. It was impossible to say how they had survived. What forms had been given them that they might yet live on glaciar and under oceans as cold as the Void. Yet they lived. The Hermits.

As long as thirty giants were tall, covered from tail to tip in wrought iron plating, their bodies flared with Elemental Fire and all about them elemental frost exuded. Hermits needed little in the way of food, filtering extremophiles and elemental energies through razor filled maws. Hermits only needed hate and darkness, for they were born into both. They were nightmares given form, hunger given stomachs, they were the fury of the Elements born in physical form and their shadows were terrible beneath the Ever-Night.

Their numbers however were kept in check, they mated rarely for a Hermit was just as happy to make a meal out of its own kind as to drift cold and alone in the sea. Their elemental fury gave off light beneath the waves, dim as it was and terrible to witness...were there anything or anyone to witness it in the first place. Were there anything that could witness it long before the Hermits would seek to devour them.

Spoiler: AP Actions

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AP: 5 (Lesser Deity)

Create Monstrous Sub-Race (1AP) - The Hermits: The most ancient of all the elemental beings given physical form, Hermits exhibit the most potent of the elemental energies alongside the most fearsome aspects of the world’s greatest hunters. Like the Vagabonds and Vagrants before them, Hermits are chimeric monstrosities merged with the four elements. Hermits possess incredible senses of hearing, smell and echolocation. They have no eyes to see. They can survive out of the water but prefer the frigid Ever-Night Oceans. They are hunger and fury and nature’s cruelty given form. They will just as easily devour one another as anything else. [??? (Nightmares) 1/10]

5 - 1 = 4AP

**Draken** · 2019-03-23, 10:08 PM (ISO 8601)

Originally Posted by Toxic Mind

"Flattery." Responded the Queen, some surprise in her voice. Communication had been the first thing the Mer attempted, and all prior efforts had failed, or at least as far as they knew, failed. "You seem to have me at a loss - what should I call you?" There was an order to these things, a decorum that she had not expected to need, but knew all the same. Pleasantries to be observed.

Can a giant mass of slick sludge with bones of chalk grin? No, not really.

"I have tasted the voices of your warriors and read the brains of your scouts. A hundred generations of war and a hundred tinctures of poison in the waters have made them vicious and weary and clinging to their queen and kind. If I flatter you it is with the love they felt for you in equal measure to their loathing they showed me and much beyond these waters."

"As for what to call me, Oil Baron would be proper, oh queen. But if you want a name, then I am Carnegie. No more than a great number of long dead things beneath these waters, sands and rocks. Wiser for the knowledge of the ancients and the far whispers of my kind through the networks of the moss."

------

Necropolis: Ramona and Steam that Greets the Morning

Oh but it did, for time was a strange thing in the muddled minds of ancient gods. And while heroes measured their mettle against each other in words, the world went on around them. Streets walked and took away lost souls with them, only to return with them settled in luxuriant houses sealed and decorated with the leather of the undead. In the middle of the road, a goblin still bemoaned his lot in life, but now begging any passing Presence for merciful release, before liberated halflings and kobolds, long since bereft of the compassion of their makers returned to beat the emaciated soul into a pulp from which it would again be renewed.

At the edge of the city, in a black bog, rotten as a tar lord and likely the beast itself uncaring for the damned, the two were met with a giant's specter. A war-smith of Akkraul praying to his gods in the boiling mud, in his tale he had come to the First Land through the deep roads and found himself at the edge of the Caldera when the great pit opened. He knew of gates and taught the two what they were, great doors in and out of property. But clearly this hell had none, only a gaping hole in the sky served as a passage in or out, and only the odious jellyfish knew how to fly in and out. Despair soon overcame the giant at this realization, and the two would be wisest to flee before that influence stretched its tendrils to them as well.

The walls felt unreachable, and so climbing was likely beyond them. Mayhaps a speleothem could guide them to the ceiling.

Another neighborhood of weary goblins had found an old portal with faded markings and took to smearing each other on the surfaces, hoping to unearth rituals to throw them wide and return to the First World as immortals through that passage. Never take the little guys for anything but vicious, hopeful fools. Why one even tried that with Ramona.

The great waterfall foamed in the distance. Feeding every river and every lake of this accursed place. Would the goddess of the sea hear a prayer there? Unlike all the other silent gods. Unlikely.

This was the worst of journeys, certainly not helped by the inordinate number of serpents and scarabs. Oh, they did not bite, but some things are distressing regardless.

In the distant south, a mountain seemed to move, it was probably wise to avoid it.

To the north, they heard that a witch lived in a dragon's old brick glove, tending to moss in a dreadful plot.

It was probably wiser to just go back to the beginning and stare at the cycle of light until they forgot.

Spoiler

Show

AP: 0 + 5 rollover

5 AP.

**GSisco** · 2019-03-24, 06:50 AM (ISO 8601)

Spoiler: Previously

Show

Originally Posted by Razade

She wasn't. It was an honest fear however, for Gods could die. Gods did die. The ruins were evidence of that as strewn about their basalt walls there stood monuments to those who never were. Those who had been, even if briefly. A giant eel's body drifted languidly through the sky. It was bright once, ribbons of now dead light ran along its mighty body. A blizzard had been here in these ruins once. Now only the body of a wolf tucked upon itself stood at its center. The ice remained. The ruined hall stretched as far as the eye could see and in the distance something dead stirred.

It was massive. Larger than any God the book might have seen. If a book could see. It was forged from thousands of skeletons, thousands of skulls and a wardrobe of funeral and it rasped against the basalt stone with barely a whisper. The Corpse Snake wound and wound about the ruined hall until three skulls with beaming eye sockets pierced the gloom above.

"What wonder." hissed a thousand voices at once as it's mighty gaze down upon the world once more where it spread across the fallen bodies of other gods and beings and from them, only rarely, a plaintiff cry would rise and shamble off into the gloom as if pulled by an unseen will that lingered within the ruins itself.

"You are not among the dead. Eat, as Gods do." The vast creature spread one of its many arms about and bread and water were laid before Nasigune. "How did it come to this realm, the realm of Yen'Shi the Corpse Dragon? How did it get so lost?"

Nasigune: Necropolis

"That's a relief. I do not know. I was building my power and suddenly, I was lost. This reminds me of my early memories. Perhaps my ritual was flawed?"

Nasigune did not eat. She didn't know this place. She did not know this being. Perhaps it would assist her. Help her. Follow her. She would have to see.

"Where is this place?"

**Razade** · 2019-03-24, 07:18 AM (ISO 8601)

Nasigune, Yen'Shi: Necropolis

The great corpse beast rattled and hissed as it drew more about the book and the room. "Such manners. Only Cereim was so rude. You find yourself in one of many graves, small thing." With a mighty roar the Corpse Beast moved and the skies above parted. Leaden and cold, rain pelted down from above in a slow drizzle. "Here stands the Twilight Grove, resting place for Gods and the Mighty. Where all the dead would gather."

A mighty arm, one of many, stretched out over vast verdant fields of black soil and mighty bamboo and beyond that a wave of darkness so deep even the light of many fires could not quench it. "This world fell to darkness long ago." The Beast whispered as it drew ever closer. "Now only the dead remember. It is always this way. Death is simple. There is so little to remember there. Only in things like you. Books and scrolls. Perhaps that is why you are here. You speak of memories. What do you remember?"

**The Succubus** · 2019-03-24, 07:27 AM (ISO 8601)

The Great Rat (featuring Fortress of Moss)

A Teacher Calls

A great deal of excitement was bubbling through the Mosslands, which in itself was quite unusual. The Mosspeakers were slow, thoughtful rats, consciously or unconsciously mimicking the nature of their patron deity, so it was odd to see them scurrying around and talking animatedly with one another. The reason for the excitement was a dream each of them had received while communing with the Fortress of Moss. Normally, the lessons and stories they received took place within the dreams themselves as they walked through the ancient ruins. Today however, their patron would be visiting their domain, albeit via an ambassador.

There was no central point to the Mosslands, due to the curious topography of Tanglenest but focal points, where the Mosspeakers gathered to discuss important events, could be found. One of sacred importance to them was the Hill of Ruin, which despite its foreboding name, was so called because of the tiny stone fragment of the Fortress of Moss that had bubbled up there when the world was young. At the foot of the hill was a large lake, which glowed with a gentle green light, much like the other lakes and rivers that weaved their way through the Mosslands.

It was around this lake that the Mosspeakers had been told to gather and wait for the arrival of their guest. They watched as the glow of the water began to fade and an inky blackness began to spread from the centre. The water became thick and viscous, no longer lapping at the shore but pulling and sucking at it. A black, indescribable form began to rise from the centre, glooping and bubbling as it reshaped itself into the form of a huge rat, if one could find a rat that was completely covered in tar and oil.

Unsettling though its appearance was, the Mosspeakers were not frightened by the arrival of the Oil Baron. Partly this due to the advance warning they had received but also because of the smell that only they could perceive. It carried a scent similar to that of the moss, except much sharper and piercing, with a smoky, greasy hint to it as well. In amongst them, there was also a very, very familiar scent; the scent of the Mosspeakers that had passed on to the Fortress of Moss on their way to their next destination. The Mosspeakers smelled former friends and colleagues and the scent comforted them.

They waited patiently and eagerly for the creature to speak.

**RolandDeschain** · 2019-03-24, 05:12 PM (ISO 8601)

Iseu, Kapet

Iseu had grown up along the quay of Kapet, darting from one returning catamaran to the other. He would scramble along the narrow decks and hide in the nets and rigging to eavesdrop on sailors stories. The fanciful tales of sea-monsters, red tides, goblin pirates, the mist-shrouded island of fearsome mongoose people, and myriad other dangers narrowly avoided were like siren song that drove him to avoid his responsibilities and learning. Iseu was not your typical city urchin as his appearance and mannerisms would imply, he was the third son of Lord Hiru, and his father was enormously wealthy.

Lord Hiru had largely abandoned his country estate, choosing instead to reside in a large house in Kapet's wealthy north side. There he pursued lucrative trade with the mer as well as the humans of Enterprise. His father had six magnificent ships that plied the waves carrying cargo to and from the Settlers' trading partners. Lord Hiru was also a man of considerable girth, earning him the nickname “Fat Cat”. Due to his wealth and semi-permanent residence in Kapet, he often chaired the Conclave meetings, and was currently tasked with overseeing the financing of Consul Damu's many building projects.

Iseu would frequently slip out before his tutors could snag him or before his father could give him one of his infamously long and meandering lectures on responsibility and respectability. He liked to stand and listen to the deranged Horrorscopes, munching on apples swiped from one of the many street vendors. In truth he felt sorry for the people who bought into the tales of apocalyptic doom for they seemed to be mostly the burgeoning city’s poor and downtrodden. He had taken to the practice of slipping through the crowd and surreptitiously sliding coins he had pilfered from his father’s office into their pockets. Little did he know that many would interpret this unexpected boon as a sign, and the crowds slowly swelled.

As the third son of a noble, Iseu really stood to inherit little to none of his father’s wealth and prestige, a fact he was all too aware of. No, Iseu was bound for the sea and for adventure, he was certain. Slowly a plan began to form in his mind, and as the years passed he set out to convince his father he was no longer the ne’er-do-well of his youth. He tended to his studies and his father’s business dealings, yet still he would frequent the quay and feast upon tales of the sea. Over time he came to learn the ways of the sailors, their unique vernacular, and practices. With some patience and persistence he convinced his father to allow him to sail with one of his merchant vessels and crews bound for Enterprise.

Both crew and captain were pleasantly surprised when Iseu eschewed his position of privilege, choosing instead to dress plainly and not claim a position of authority. Informing the captain to treat him as just another member of the crew, he set out to learn the ways of the ship and considered no task beneath him. He ate and slept with the crew, not in the captain’s birth as Lord Hiru had insisted when they departed.

The trip through the southern sea was exhilarating, but also somewhat disappointing to Iseu in its complete lack of misadventure. Visiting the port city of Enterprise, however was fascinating in the extreme. The humans were earnest in their desire to trade, but Iseu found their culture and customs difficult to comprehend. As he moved through the bustling town he encountered a number of kobolds as well. They seemed to be the favored servants of the wealthier human inhabitants. He found them to be amicable, polite, and curious individuals, more than one stopping him to ask if he needed any assistance.

All too soon, the light of day began to fade and it was time to return to his ship. Turning to retrace his steps, he spotted a small hooded figure scramble into an alley…almost as if it had been following him, and his sudden turn had caught the mysterious stranger by surprise. He covered the ground in a handful of quick steps, ducked into the alley, and slammed into the diminutive figure knocking it to the ground.

Staring up at him from beneath the cowl was a pure white face.

Jeluhale', Catan

Spoiler: Previously

Show

Originally Posted by Razade

A Derro: Lord Damu's Road
It had taken long weeks but on order of Shadow on Snow Peaks scouts had been sent to the lands of the Caracan. They carried a single message. A request, rare, from the chiefs of the Derro. A single observer to come and witness a promise made long ago. The Derro would unify as most they could, to honor friendships forged in the very town of Lord Damu. However, the observer would be little more than a glorified hostage. A move in good faith that the Caracan would not unduly effect the Derro's move to sovereignty.

The village of Jeluhale' had grown up around Jelu's trading post naturally in relatively short order. Occasionally the Derro would come down from the mountains offering their exotic spices and other wares which were highly sought after by the caracan. Goods came up the Siba River, then Lord Damu's road to the village, just as Derro goods followed the reverse course to Kapet. A lone derro striding down the road, though, was an unusual sight for sure.

Spoiler: Razade

Show

Where's this guy headed? Jelu's trading post, Lord Damu's Manor, or Kapet?

Spoiler: AP Accounting

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Beginning AP = 3AP + 5AP + 1PAP[rollover]
Ending AP = 8AP +1PAP

**Nefarion Xid** · 2019-03-24, 09:49 PM (ISO 8601)

Beware of Devils Bearing Low APR

Devils always came with gifts. It was the best thing about them. As a race, they could be arrogant and callous. They found the whole of the mortal world and its inhabitants contemptible, though most were too polite to ever say such a thing aloud. The venomous zophim were an exception. Normally quiet, contemplative creatures, an insulted Observer would turn into an invective spitting nightmare who’s more than eager to tell you that you live on a ball of compost and that your children better resemble their uncle.

But their gifts were lovely! Devils were always good for business, no matter what business you’re in. Their methods were sometimes perplexing, but it wasn’t worth putting up a fight. When a devil shows up at your door with five pounds of silver, and all he asks of you is to not grow four pounds worth of cotton, you take the coin and grow beans instead. You thank him, and the devil would smile and tell you, “Harvesting cotton is hard work anyway.”

Loans were a sort of gift. It would take a lifetime for a free man to earn enough coin to buy his own ship, but a devil was always willing to take a chance on an old sailor. Once you had a ship, you only needed a decade of good winds and calm waters to pay back the temple. And if you lost your ship? That’s what insurance was for. A devil would smile and tell you, “Sailing is hard work anyway.”

Wars were expensive. Even if you had bought the loyalty of twenty thousand men, you still had to feed them and put spears in their hands. It never seemed to matter to a devil whether or not your cause was just, or if you really had a chance of victory. If you won the crown, you’d both be rich. But if you lost, he’d smile and tell you, “Ruling is hard work anyway.”

Spoiler: Accounting

Show

1 AP + 5 AP from Week 6 Start

-1 AP (Law (Monarchy)) + Artifact Charge, Create Mythic Subrace: Kesaphim (Greed Devils)

The tall and willowy kesaphim are the most urbane of the devils, unfailing in their refined speech and careful observation of cultural etiquette. Born from the living electrum veins of Chalice and unburdened by pride, the Acquisition Devils crave material wealth above all else. They will say and do anything short of breaking Mamona’s laws to see a profit and surmount their rivals. Some misinformed races stereotype them as liars and thieves, but the simple truth is that deceit and larceny are no way to run a business. Blessed with exceptional patience and cunning, the kesaphim need only provide what is in demand and wait for dividends.

In the paradise of Chalice, there is nothing for the kesaphim to do to slake their avarice beyond outwitting each other and gambling. Thus, they are largely relegated to the mortal plane where they sell wine, honey, and flesh. They also offer their services as bankers and proprietors of brothels or gambling parlours. Of course, Mamona claims half of everything they earn.

-1 AP (Law (Monarchy)), Create Mundane Concept: Banking

The Acquisition Devils act on behalf of the Queen’s Bank, which is to say, Mamona’s personal hoard. Their primary function is to ensure liquidity by regularly injecting fledgling mortal economies with coin. As a whole, the banking system is inscrutable and arcane, but there is always a devil eager to put gold gold in your hand. They don’t ask too many questions and their interest rates are very reasonable. The interfere with regional trade and politics, but only in subtle ways to achieve a net positive. They have a light touch and try not to offend the people and algal blooms who think they’re in power.

Some people think they can cheat a devil. Some people are even right. Once. Defrauding the kesaphim is the surest way to bring the entire diabolic system down on your head. Once you’ve earned the attention to the watchful zophim, there is nowhere in creation to hide from your debts.

-0 AP + Artifact Charge, Bless: Devils

Though incapable of teleporting themselves, devils have free reign to access the empyreal links between Mamona’s realm and her temples in the mortal sphere. A token expenditure of innate magic and a conjuration circle is all that’s needed for them to be whisked across the cosmos. Accessing the Queen’s Bank is as simple as giving an offering in a temple and saying a prayer. Procuring the services of the other diabolic breeds is just a easy, though ruinously expensive. For a prince’s ransom, the zophim will tell you any secret and the lilim will blow your mind.

4 AP remaining.

**RolandDeschain** · 2019-03-24, 10:00 PM (ISO 8601)

The Crags

Captain Aelu and the caracan sailors had taken him on board, completely unaware as to his true nature. In truth, he was only vaguely aware of his true nature as well. They had named him Turu. He had only just begun to learn the rudimentary language skills to communicate with Captain Aelu when disaster had struck. Answering the cries from the shore had been a terrible mistake, but like the others he didn't know it at the time. As the catamaran closed with the rocky, mist shrouded island, one of the "little ones" had appeared on the beach waving his small arms and beckoning them to come ashore. The good Captain had assumed answered the hails and steered a course close enough for a couple the sailors to jump out and lash the ship to one of the many rocky outcroppings.

Turu watched from the ship as Aelu and a handful of the other catfolk rowed the skiff into the shore. The "little one" had jumped up and down repeatedly and emphatically pointing to what appeared to be a natural sea cave just up the beach. He moved away from the rail as the other sailors pushed forward to watch, and he did so I thought he caught a glimpse of something in the water...an otter perhaps. He wasn't certain, nor did it matter. Mere seconds later, however, dozens of the "little ones" bobbed up from beneath the waves, raising slender tub-like reeds to their mouths and shooting tiny, feathered darts at the crew with shocking accuracy.

He stood in mute horror as the crew, tumbled over the side and into the shallow surf one by one. Looking up, he saw even more of the creatures taking down Captain Aelu and his escort. What should he do? He was paralyzed by indecision, watching tiny paws appear over the railing, followed by grinning rodent faces. One, two, six, ten of them nimbly jumped the rail pointed their blowguns at him and pinged him with half a dozen poison darts. The sting was no more than a minor annoyance. With no real skin, muscle, blood or circulatory system to carry the poison, but it was at that moment that a plan emerged in his mind. Clasping his neck as if wounded by a dart, he staggered and fell over the rail backwards splashing into the water. He was much to large to shift his form to match one of the creatures so as he swam under the catamaran, he instead divided himself into three parts and bobbed up on the far side as three of the terrible mongoose creatures. Maintaining this form required an extraordinary amount of effort as he tried to move the three bodies differently with his singular consciousness. Miraculously, though, it had worked. The mongooses searched for him, he even joined them for a time appearing to be perplexed by his own disappearance. Eventually they had given up and returned to shore.

So it was that Turu came to live with the mongoose mercenaries, pirates, and assassins of The Crags for a time.

**bc56** · 2019-03-25, 12:06 AM (ISO 8601)

SUMMUS - The First and the Greatest

Tenebreon was annoyed with the callousness with which he was shunted off the mortal plane. He had just wanted a few more minutes to speak to the Empress, and he was not yet done with his work with the Scholars of Stone. He needed a servant who could be his voice and a commander of his forces on the First World. He drew up a plan, then set to work. He drew metal from the bowels of the earth, a ebon alloy never before seen by mortal eyes, light as a whisper and hard as diamond. From this, he fashioned a simple body, with two arms, two legs, and a head, a human shape in all respects. He filled it with all manner of clockwork devices, and adorned it with the golden threads spun by a curious spider he found in his laboratory. Lastly, he tore a strip from his cloak, and writing upon it, pressed it into the heart of his creation. The thing awoke, slowly, titanic gears of alien metal twisting in its mind as it processed its existence. Before it could speak, Tenebreon answered its question. "You are Summus, unique among my servants. You are my greatest creation, and I have given you a part of my power. I have a mission for you. My servants are hoarding their knowledge and refusing to share it for the good of all. I want you to go, and give them my decree. Tell them that knowledge is not meant to be held by one group, but by all. It is not to be protected, but to be spread."
"I UNDERSTAND AND OBEY." Summus descended to the First World, its body appearing outside the capital of the Scholars of Stone. It had work to do.

Spoiler: AP

Show

Start: 0/20
Rollover: +5
Create Avatar: Summus: Knowledge (open source) [4/10]
Summus is a titanic construct of black metal, traced with golden thread. It acts as a conduit for Tenebreon's power on the First World, and as the commander of his forces of Reavers and Iron Janitors. Summus knows its purpose, but mortals are alien and unpredictable to it, and it has trouble working with them.

End: 1/20

Domains in progress:
Society (cities) 2/10
Knowledge (open source) 4/10

**Draken** · 2019-03-25, 12:54 AM (ISO 8601)

[Tanglenest]
The Baron's Lesson

Who, pray tell, first knew the history of the world?
Was it halfling, firstborn?
Was it goblin, l'enfant terrible?
Was it kobold, the hard workers?
Was it mer, the favorite child?
Was it caracan, canny explorers?
Was it man, abandoned on the crib?
Was it giant, proud and strong?
Maybe. Just maybe.
A bunch of rats first heard the tale from ten thousand mouthless voices.

"In the beginning the world was empty. A lifeless, godless sea with no land. This changed with A Single Stone, it pulled up the First Land from beneath the waves, and with it came The Fortress of Moss in its haunted halls. The Stone carried in the primeval elements. The Moss carried in life and death."

"In their wake, in their land, grew the gods. First was Tafeita, for the world of rock was vicious and in need of reprieve. Second was Janika, who reveled in what her older sister reviled, and taught the land to thrive on death and enjoy the killing, where originally it was dispassionate in its savagery. The elementals storms and crumbling land roused an odious witch beneath the waves by the name of Eniym, and she filled its shores with life much like herself before taking to the skies as fish do and infecting them with her languor. Next was Looloodi, who is here even now."

Dunsmuir slaps one of Ilianthos' nearby roots.

"She was not born on this island, she is a child of the first land, lest she forget. Born in the deep halls from which she crawled like any other rock. A shiny one, for sure and as round as any primate would enjoy. But she was fickle even then, and lifted this little island off the coast in disgust of her elders, and here she set root. But lets not dwell on shallow matters and move onto Marah, she came from above. Like rain, like a great ice rock onto a world so small and so bereft. The waters beyond the First Land were stagnant then, but she let them live, so giving she was. And Chryon came next, a loud piece of first flame, charring and cracking the First Land."

"I am not certain on this next, my sources are faulty on matters beyond this realm. But signs say the birds came around this time. Don't hold me on that, however. They really didn't do anything for this world."

"And there was also Sololond at the same time, a grievous thing, hiding not in the darkness beneath nor in the darkness above, but in the darkness beyond. Let us not speak of it further."

"Caerox and Selima were next. He came from the halls and called the halflings into being. The first people of the first land. She was a wisp, almost a presence. And coursed the world beneath before fleeing into the wastes above and growing appalled at the works of her brethren. A protector particularly unsuited for the Preserver's work, how fate conspires for worlds to break."

"Then... Came you."

And the rest is history.

Don't get me wrong, it is a history Dunsmuir tells, but it is also really long and we all know it, we also know that Dunsmuir twists it around a bit, doesn't lie, but also doesn't say a single good thing about any one of the main characters.

And honestly, they deserve it.

--------

[Enterprise]

The Fortress is an interesting place that sees many visitors every day, indeed, it is the central temple of Enterprise in addition to being the dwelling of Vanderbilt. The central feature of the construction is a large, circular pool filled with the black oil of the great ooze. Grooves along the pool let the baron flow along his abode, and they stretch out to surround a great number of statues. surrounding that central hall. Each one a magnificent depiction of one of the gods. Mamona adorns the far end , directly across the entrance, and is the first thing a visitor sees across the ebon lake. To her sides are the sisters. Selima and Looloodi. Then Marah and Tafeita. Following from Marah are statues of Janika and then Nemesis. And next to Tafeita are two empty pedestals, one of which fills the local halflings with indescribable grief. On either side follow Tenebreon and Chryon. And then Daghir and Nasigune. And completing the circle, the entrance to this circular place.

There is no icon to Many-As-One, it is not welcome in these halls. There are no icons to departed beasts, no artisan and no priest felt inclined to them. There is no icon to the other gods of Karam-Kor, this place has no use for them. Nobody really knows Sololond is a thing and Vanderbilt would much prefer it stays so.

Not many have made a pilgrimage to the Descent, but those who do feel some eerie premonition about this arrangement, and even those who do not, know that any architecture is a temple to The Fortress of Moss. A Single Stone? There are those who say that Vanderbilt rests on a basalt dais.

There are other temples in the city to its most popular gods, or rather, goddesses. Ever since trade with the caracan grew in earnest when their first ships arrived, Selima became ascendant in popularity, and the odd mer visitor gave Marah her due boost, as do in their own way the rakshasa. But Mamona and Looloodi remain as popular as their priesthood with the locals, as humans are a very... Friendly bunch.

Goblins are mostly a regional pest, having never truly grown nor organized as elsewhere, and Janika has a very small following among humanity, one that is fostered by the local rakshasa, but 'politely' discouraged by authorities that escape their influence. Vanderbilt maintains certain prerogatives. Nemesis, similarly, has no meaningful following beyond what the rakshasa bring, and that is even less than what Janika gets.

Tafeita and Tenebreon have the love of the kobolds, the mothers and the wise. But Enterprise is a place of raucous sailors and crafty merchants, both of whom are more fond of devils than they would like to admit, and docility is not in their blood.

Chryon, Daghir and Nasigune... Simply do not see much popularity, the last one is barely known, really.

Horrorscopes, surprisingly enough, have their own local publication. Something about the unfaltering dominion of a titanic volume of undead sludge keeps their portents of doom surprisingly grounded.

The Fortress of Moss got a cadre of priests recently, when some rats arrived and settled in. But very few of the locals are familiar with the new moss-speakers that tend to the nightlights and ease the baron's work in keeping the caretakers under control.

A melting pot, really. The surface positively bubbling with vibrancy.

**GSisco** · 2019-03-25, 02:01 AM (ISO 8601)

Spoiler: Previous

Show

Originally Posted by Razade

Nasigune, Yen'Shi: Necropolis

The great corpse beast rattled and hissed as it drew more about the book and the room. "Such manners. Only Cereim was so rude. You find yourself in one of many graves, small thing." With a mighty roar the Corpse Beast moved and the skies above parted. Leaden and cold, rain pelted down from above in a slow drizzle. "Here stands the Twilight Grove, resting place for Gods and the Mighty. Where all the dead would gather."

A mighty arm, one of many, stretched out over vast verdant fields of black soil and mighty bamboo and beyond that a wave of darkness so deep even the light of many fires could not quench it. "This world fell to darkness long ago." The Beast whispered as it drew ever closer. "Now only the dead remember. It is always this way. Death is simple. There is so little to remember there. Only in things like you. Books and scrolls. Perhaps that is why you are here. You speak of memories. What do you remember?"

Nasigune: Necropolis

Nasigune began absorbing the food and drink. She wasn't sure it counted as eating or if a book even could eat but she wanted to appease this monster.

"I remember very little. The ruins most vividly, as if all had already been destroyed. Then I remember discovering myself. Then a rat. Then I descended. I laid traps and hid. All the while the great forces of the world swept across, creating and destroying. I saw none but felt all. Finally my servants arrived. He carried me and together we explored. Then a war started and an exchange of power. My power for my servant's for his servant's. Then the world returned to ruin. That is my memory. That and there was the prescence. The one that first spoke to me. It dwelt in the ruin."

**Razade** · 2019-03-25, 05:53 AM (ISO 8601)

Originally Posted by RolandDeschain

Jeluhale', Catan

The village of Jeluhale' had grown up around Jelu's trading post naturally in relatively short order. Occasionally the Derro would come down from the mountains offering their exotic spices and other wares which were highly sought after by the caracan. Goods came up the Siba River, then Lord Damu's road to the village, just as Derro goods followed the reverse course to Kapet. A lone derro striding down the road, though, was an unusual sight for sure.

Spoiler: Razade

Show

Where's this guy headed? Jelu's trading post, Lord Damu's Manor, or Kapet?

The Derro Scout was...unsure of herself to say the least. The stories told as Shadow on Snow Peaks sat before the fire painted a much more rural pictuer than this trading post appeared. So too did the traveling Warriors permitted to move between the loose boarders of Derro Lands and what they viewed as the Cat-Folk's sovereign areas. Redwood Takes Wings did what she thought best. She strode into the center of this tribe and with loud clear voice she shouted.

"Shadow on Snow Peaks demands your Chief's attendance within the Valley of Chiefs. This one will guide you. Time is short, we ask you hurry."

Spoiler: Roland

Show

Really anywhere, I think the post covers why. A Caracan "chief" is as good as any other. The Derro expect that any honorable person would relay the information for everyone else in a leadership position. Should be a good leg up for an enterprising Caracan or two.

Originally Posted by GSisco

Nasigune: Necropolis

Nasigune began absorbing the food and drink. She wasn't sure it counted as eating or if a book even could eat but she wanted to appease this monster.

"I remember very little. The ruins most vividly, as if all had already been destroyed. Then I remember discovering myself. Then a rat. Then I descended. I laid traps and hid. All the while the great forces of the world swept across, creating and destroying. I saw none but felt all. Finally my servants arrived. He carried me and together we explored. Then a war started and an exchange of power. My power for my servant's for his servant's. Then the world returned to ruin. That is my memory. That and there was the presence. The one that first spoke to me. It dwelt in the ruin."

The beast seems pleased seeing the food disappear. What was it to question how a God ate, especially one that was a book. It listened, only the slow Breath within it seemed to echo in the halls. "All worlds fall to ruin." The Corpse Beast entones, rattling slowly against the fractured walls. "Even this one...it has been long since I danced with the Green Goddess. You too will age. All Gods succumb to the Rot. Even death. Perhaps in time another God will read you. Perhaps one already has."

The world lurched, spun and slowly fell away to darkness. The mighty bone creature fell bone by bone, bone to ash until only the Necropolis behind the dream remained. If the Book was left for the Fort, the Fortress could handle it from here. Dreams are such transitory things and another was all but half asleep. The presence of the Corpse Beast was gone as well. Something like a God had been in the blasted ruins Nasigune was left within but it was gone all the same.

All that was left upon the walls, a story scrawled by dagger nails.

Blood of King beyond Kings birthed a legion. Darkness reigned, his shout a world warps.
First was the Burning Dead, followed by its mighty shadow. A beast of corpse.
Followed then by Life's Delight, her daughter dreaming of tresses reap.
Along these mighty, Ice plotted deep. To rule the world, a Blizzard Keep.

War did rage, a savage thing.
Barely worth remembering.

In time Darkness reigned again, in Murk the world saw its own end.
Blood of King beyond Kings came forth once more, a world warped once and ever more.
The Creator, lost, but once was found.
Its secrets, a Fortress, built to stound.

**mystic1110** · 2019-03-25, 09:16 AM (ISO 8601)

Spoiler: Previously

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Originally Posted by Razade

Hagfish in a Maze

The Necropolis is old. Older than time could ever allow, memories and ghosts from ages never passed. The air is stale, benthic, the oppressive silence like a noose. Like the glue of a hagfish, it coagulated about the Patient Advisor with the fetid scent of something long gone to spoil. Here surely was no realm for the Gods, or truly anything else. There were no games here, no angles to play. No one to pit against one another, no one and nothing to sever or form connections too. The ghosts, lost to their misery, the Caretakers mere plants and Elementals at the edges of the vast cities simply doing what they did.

The Hagfish was alone yet so terribly surrounded. From ruined walls the gaze was all around her. From the streets, from the skies. A hundred eyes, a thousand, a multitude uncounted they stared and marked her passage. Yet there was no one. Nothing. There never was. For this place out of time and before time and after time there merely stretched the earthen flesh of ancients. The realm was no reflection of angry or scheming gods. It was the thoughts, the promises, of what came before and what would most certainly come after. It was ruination. It was decay. It was the memory of all that would be. It was a testament to all that ever was.

But there, in a mighty tower...a light? As if someone late to dusk had lit a candle to read by. An enticing thing for a presence was surely there. It called to the Hagfish, a single beacon in a realm of misery, gloom and despair. Perhaps there was a God here yet, or something that might be worthy of some conversation.

Of Animals

Looking for connections to sunder or repair, but let's be honest here which one was more likely, Eniym flew towards the light in the Necropolis, as she journeyed towards it she found herself swimming instead of flying through a vast ocean that seemed to have subsumed the decaying city. On the ocean floor, instead of sand was mud and this mud seemed to have grasping humanoid forms reaching out to her. The ocean felt alive she thought, the forms below grew horns and then were diced apart by opal and jeweled swords and she was surrounded . . . no not surrounded, but flanked by strange mer with shark tales. She heard a haughty laugh and besides her was beautiful merfolk with olive skin, a shark tale, and bejeweled eyes. The merfolk's face was a portrait in disgust.

"This is what accounts for gods now? Even my lowest chef wouldn't serve you as a platter for the lowest Nobel in the Halls of the Ornate Beast"

And besides that merfolk was another queen - smiling and naked - covered in barbed wire and bleeding, somehow playfully, a look of orgasm on her face, and she gently touches the merfolk queen and says

"Hush now my love, can't you see the Ocean of Mezzthera around us, the ceaselessly spilled wine from the gardens of Travolis, your own swords and gems. She is in dream now. Let it take her."

The merfolk gave a sort of insulted snort as if letting the fish do anything was beneath her. The fish was too disgusting to have lived in her time, and she felt disgusted that time would even have allowed it. And so she dissipated. Pride forcing her to dissipate back into dreaming rather than continue with the illusion that she was still a God. The other goddess was still there, still bleeding, her wounds open with pus and rank odor. Beyond the hagfish could see a stingray enveloped in putrid green fire, the goddess turned to Eniym and her slime and kissed her leathery lipless mouth. The slime from her lips pulled and formed a line as the goddess pulled away.

"I would have loved you."

And Eniym felt that that phrase should have evoked horror, but the goddess and the stingray were gone and she found herself out of the ocean and now flying above a wooden pavilion on what appeared to be . . the aroma of tea pervaded the air. To be honest, Eniym wasn't the most logical of the gods, but the strange ocean and her meeting with goddesses that never were had put in her in a state of confusion. She flew around this strange teahouse aimlessly until she spied what appeared to be a walking Pig. The Pig squealed when she saw Eniym and quickly trotted over to her and confessed that she didn't know that she was visiting, but that she was welcome, and she didn't know that there was a fish in the pantheon, that it was all so strange, but she was, of course, welcome, everyone was welcome at the teahouse, and if she could bring her anything.

Eniym didn't want any tea, but she felt the itch to connect this place to something as it so clearly was unconnected from anything. She was the goddess of relationships and everything needed to stand in relation to something else even this memory, and that's when the Pig asked if it wanted to go to its fellow Zodiac, and of course, Eniym said yes and she was the Goddess of Astrology. And so the Pig led her and eventually pointed her to a green and rust red pagoda at the far end of the large estate. Eniym asked if the Pig was part of the Pantheon and would be joining her in the house, and the Pig told her that she thought she was but she wouldn't dare. She wasn't sure she would survive.

And so Eniym ventured into the house, the door being quiet ajar and found herself in a smoky room filled with luxurious pillows. She smelled that the pillows covered tools of war covered in dried blood. She smelled entrails. But mostly she smelled sweet smoke. She flew around the house and found nesting on one of the pillows a chicken covered in armor. The chicken was terrified and it squeaked at her.

"Get out get out, can't you see the Peacock doesn't rule here? It is not safe!"

And throughout the house, a gentle laugh, as on the pillows hopped a black hare. The hare smiled and hopped towards the chicken and paws him on the head as if to playfully tell it to be quiet. There was a guest. The hare jumped towards a pipe and place it in its mouth and began to inhale - the embers of the pipe glowing red hot. The hare exhaled smoke in the shape of a large dragon made of slime, the Dragon lunged at Eniym but passed through her as it was only smoke.

"You remind me a bit of him actually with your trails of ooze."

The black hare smiled at Eniym and then turned to face the Chicken.

"Can you believe this fool here was the God of War in his Creation. How hilariously Pathetic. I'm sure he did his best. You all do your best with what tools you're given. You're just unlucky that I wasn't there to provide you with the best tools"

The chicken squawked.

"I can destroy you . . you . . .you know."

The black hare exhaled smoke right into the chicken's face and smiled with fearsome teeth

"Oh I'm sure you could have. But we have a guest. Tell me my esteemed fish. What tool do you need?"

Eniym finally given the chance to speak, says what she says because of who she is

I am a goddess of truths . . . brrlplop . . . I have no need for tools beyond words

The black hare breaks into mirth.

"I once beat the truth itself into a katana. It could cut the lies right out of you. And that's what you are of course. A liar. But that is good. What is the truth but lies that haven't been made real yet? You're a liar and if I have a tool to give you it would be that lies are not just words. They are deaths. You have to bleed the truth. You have to kill truth for the lie to live and breath and run in the wind. Here, let me show you."

With that, and Eniym did not notice until just now that the Hare's shadow was suffocatingly large and this shadow grew arms and grasped the chicken at its beak and with the two hands from the shadow pried the beak open and a third shadow reached in, and as it reached in the two other arms kept prying the beak until the skin of the chicken's throat split, and they ripped the poor god of war in half as the third hand grasped in its inky digits a simple sword. The shadows dragged the sword over the pillows to wipe the blood of it, and the two halves of the other god fell to the ruins of the floor of the House of Scars and Wounds to join so many other creatures.

Here you go, I call this sword Huǎngyán. With it, any lie you tell may become real.

But the black hare was wrong. She wasn't a goddess of lies. She told lies. But she also told truths. She forced the storms, but she broke them as well. She was responsible for the waves but the reefs that sheltered the land were hers as well. She couldn't take the sword she told the black hare. Besides she had no hands. Huǎngyán vanished like the lie it was.

Bah, a waste. And I wasted a perfectly good war god for it too. But! A challenge, and if the Fox was here he would tell you how much I like a challenge. I will gift you something that would change your world. But what?

And almost as if a signal the door to the smoke den opens.

**Razade** · 2019-03-25, 09:48 AM (ISO 8601)

The Fox, The Hangfish and the Hare: The House of Scars and Wounds

"How can you give someone a gift if you don't know what they already have? Leave it to a rabbit to not think of these things. To the father with a hundred children and a thousand more blades you really lack the value we of so little means attribute to things. Your only failing my handsome hare. That and your awful tendency to make a mess in my beautiful Tea House." Came the voice through the smoke, it parted like curtains and in stepped something beautiful. Tall, tanned skin, hair the length of the floor and the color of obsidian. Elven, if the Hagfish had ever seen such a thing which it hadn't, the Fox was not a fox yet its shadow dominated the room and even swallowed the Hare's in its expanse. A storm of tails and glowing emerald eyes that swept about the room as if on the hunt. "Where are your manners, Yinbao? Where are mine! We have a guest! They've come so far to..." The momentary flicker of something utterly unwholesome washed over the Fox as it finally got a look at the Hagfish. Revulsion. Disgust. As if the Fox had smelled something foul, tasted something horrid and could not get the taste or smell out of its mind. Its appearance altered and shifted, robes of satin replaced with rubber overalls that reached well up to his breast. Gloves that went near up to his arms. Hair tied back in a tight braid and held away from the snot. The moment passed but the clothing did not change.

"To be brought somewhere so ill suited to their needs! You will forgive me, my friend, but it seems we've not quite landed you where you ought to be! We've a beautiful pond you'd be much more at home within. Don't you fret, don't you fuss, don't you forget that the Tea House is here for you, for your comfort, for your coin. It's no matter, if you'll just give us a moment I'm certain we'll find someway to make you infinitely more comfortable." The Fox gave a clap, the room was filled with the thunderous sound of a hundred feet on wood and a rush of white figures filled the room. In moments the walls and floor of the House of Scars were coated in thick drapes and a large tub was erected for Eniym. The Help were just as swift away though the Fox might be heard, leaning towards one, to whisper. "Do charge her extra for making such a mess." In moments they were alone. Or as alone as three could be.

"Now then, please make yourself comfortable! Your tools. Words you said. I knew a man who thought their words were tool enough, what a tool he was." The Fox snickered as he found a large clean pillow to rest upon, snatching a pipe from the Hare as dainty as one might snatch a sock off a lampshade after a party gone far too out of control. "My sister slew him for all his words were worth. What are your words worth I wonder? Wouldn't that be a wonderful sight, to see how much they're worth?" The Fox's chest never raised or lowered yet smoke trailed from his nose like some ancient dragon long at rest over its plunder. "My sister too, born of the Void herself, thought her words were enough. She fell to Death and became it and then it became herself." The Fox tapped his chin with the end of his pipe after several more tokes. "Come to think of it...I knew a Rat who also thought their words were weapons and they were eaten by some windy hedgerows. How the haugty find their words to be nothing more than wind. Nothing more than wax to a flame that withers them to nothing of worth. Words are all well and good but one needs action, one needs booze and girls and young slinky men. Not to be eaten by a walking potted plant. Not that I think anything would want to eat you, my dear guest. You're much too pretty." The last words were said through an almost clenched smile, said as if spoken through barbed wire so cagey they were a prison may well have been built on some far off plane just to make sure no one would ever call Eniym pretty again. Oh but the Fox meant it, certainly, a Host wouldn't insult their guest so and they were so eager to provide! No one in history other than the Fox would be so foolish to try and dress a hagfish yet silk dresses and only the most wondrous perfumes were wheeled in by the wagon load. One would be fair to question to whose benefit such gifts were given, the benefactor or the bonnie young slime eel.

The Fox seemed to catch himself then, hands clapping loudly as he brought himself back in the moment. "But do listen to me drone on and on! I haven't even asked you! What do they call you and most importantly, what have you come to the Tea House for?"

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