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

**mystic1110** · 2019-03-25, 10:56 AM (ISO 8601)

Spoiler: Previously

Show

Originally Posted by Razade

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?"

House of Scars and Wounds

Why was she here? The goddesses that she met on the swim through that strange ocean indicated to Eniym that none of this was real. This was all a dream – but it seemed real. And what’s more, what did this mean for her? Were these dreams of past gods on that board of connection? Would she connect the Black Hare with Janika or Nemesis? Could a sword forged in dream be wielded in the waking world – was such a connection one that should happen or that should not and if so should she force the issue and make dreams real as they so clearly wanted or was she to force them to sleep against their wishes. What was natural about a dream?

I am the Hagfish and I am here . . . brrlplop . . . to make you real again.

She lies. Of course, she lies. She lies to dreams as she lies to waking lords. The black hare laughs, its eyes gleam with evil red light.

What use for reality do us gods have? We make our own reality. You think that I cannot rend you and find what weapon you hide in your flesh? What would a fish contain? A bird certainly is full of arrows. Rabbits are full of swords. But a fish? I think a whip! A long whip made of silk. And speaking of silk – you know that in every ream of silk universes are contained, and I have traveled more worlds than you my dear, made more, and I have burned more worlds that you know. I have burned down a world for the Fox when the fool choose to die. The idiot.

How do you argue with a dream? What do you promise a dream? More so, place the dream on a point on the world and see what roads lead from it to other cities, are those roads in good repair? Should they be fixed? Are their roads? Do we need roads where we are going from dream to dream? The place . . . this place drives her mad. She seeks to connect, she is compelled to connect? But to what? She is in essence, and she realizes the irony, displaced. She is a goddess of connections and without connections, she is no more real that these wisps of Gods past. She is only real, anything is only real based on the roads, ruined or broken, gleaming or made of Iron, that exist between it and anything else. To be real, to be anything, you must be connected. This time, instead of lying she perhaps speaks the truth, although the thrust of her words remains the same. Such is the line between truth and lies, it is like the ocean, it ebbs and flows and is not rigid.

This time . . . brrlplop . . . you lie my friend (even now, even in a dream, it is surprising how many gods call YinBao friend, even knowing what he is) You make your own reality, but . . . brrlplop . . . only because I am here. You are dreams nothing more, and as soon . . . brrlplop . . . as I swim away you will return to your formless states. Memories and figments of the past. I offer you both. I offer . . . brrlplop . . . you all a chance to be connected to the world as it is, how it is now, instead . . . brrlplop . . . of this dream world of what was.

She swims in a languid loop around and through the smoke exhaled by the hare and the fox. Her slime forms a helix with the smoke, and perhaps even the dreams could see that the smoke was more like smoke than the thought of smoke as it was congealed in the slime.

Spoiler: Previously

Show

Originally Posted by Toxic Mind

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 a 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 Tychris1

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

Show

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.

Tale of Marah among the Raj

Months later the Rakshasa found himself disgusted by the lethargy of the Raj. They were supposed to be virile and powerful, but instead, they were indolent and spoiled. So many of his fellow Kshatriya were in debt with the Devils of Mamon, or Mamona, or whatever the Brahamin were calling him now. They were all relying on the slaves being provided by the Protectorate instead of hunting for their own. It was incredibly disappointing - how could the glorious Raj have let itself get to this point. What kind of Rakshasa would have let themselves be disgraced in such a manner? He tried to ignore his strange slave's snicker. He didn't beat her only due to the thought far in the back of his mind that she was good luck. After all his karma was notrious in the Raj, he allowed himself to be benevolent.

He took a retinue of his favored servants, including the mer slave to the sporting hall where many Rakshasa had lost their loaned fortunes and he had gained his. While gambling he saw the humans and mer servants, ever industriuous, walking to and fro, and found in himself in a fit of perverse jealousy and admiration. They created while the Raj only consumed. That was not to say he thought that the Raj were supposed to be servants - why would a Rakshasa ever treat himself lower than another - but he yearned for them to create. And that's when he had a thought.

The Protectorate was a worthy colony, but such a colony was in words flitting from his past, in the unholy air instead of the holy waters of the ocean. He paused . . . his past, it was such a hazy memory. He didn't remember much, he didn't remember those thoughts. He shook his large mane as he counted his winnings and put that thought out of his head. His past was unimportant. He was an important lord now and he had an idea. The Raj to overcome its lethargy should expand. It should create. It should create an empire below the waves.

He turns to his strange servant and asks her "I have ruled over Mer but know little of your people. Tell me - what do the Mer know of War?"

Spoiler: AP Bookeeping

Show

1 AP + 4 Rollover = 5 AP

**Razade** · 2019-03-25, 11:39 AM (ISO 8601)

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

"Listen to this one. It thinks itself real and we the dream. Promises made but unable to be kept. You, my dear, are far out of your depth. The Tea House sits at the cross roads of all things, dream and undream alike. We met a God of Dream, we made a realm for him but even he thought he was from sometime else. Somewhere else. Somewhen else. Pity you who thinks you're the Dreamer and not the dream. Poor as poor might be you're poorer for it. When you wake you'll see that this dream you're dreaming was more real than where you'll end up and you'll curse not taking the time to talk. Where you're headed, talking is like speaking to a wall." The Fox chuckled again, breathing more plumes of smoke in various shapes. An owl, a bat, golems and humans.

"Your problem is you haven't met anyone you couldn't con. No one you couldn't convince to listen. So many have fallen to your tune you're thinking you're hearing it too. But you know deep down that you've got the most to fear. You go this way and that, that way and this, hoping that you'll tangle it all up. To make everyone as tangled up as you." Languid and lethargic the Fox moved to run a hand along the edge of the great tub. "Your tool box is lacking." The Host hissed, happy to hang the words in smoke and smiles as he leaned back against his pillow. "It's true though, the Rabbit speaks the truth. He burned a world to avenge the death of someone he loved and the world was less for it. You couldn't blame him though, I loved him all the same. I made worlds the likes of which you'd tremble to see. Vast oceans where dreadnoughts lay. Plains for the dead and forests for the living. A regular planar slum lord was I. But never once did I concern myself with the world you seek to bind me to. I left the dreams of mortals free and died to make certain this was so. The Green would have loved you. You would have loved it. Tremble thinking what I'd have done if the Rabbit had died. Think indeed! A Rat pregnant by a Fox! The Rabbit died, indeed!"

The Fox sneered and its shadow did too. "You offer things you can't complete and make promises of things you truly wouldn't want. A vexation upon you, we would be. For what better prey than the one that could bring their own dreams to life? How horrifying you'd be, how profitable. No, you simply wouldn't do. The Rat would have loved you, sadly she's married to me. The price I paid for death, to leave her on the alter. My best man an arsonist. All those worlds and they couldn't even find my best work."

With a click of tongue against his teeth the Fox stood once more. "The Rabbit may well have the truth of it. To bring that which you wish into a world unwilling but I say this to you now. I never once lied. I'd ask the Rabbit to verify but how can you trust a liar? But why would I have needed to lie when the truth was all that more effective? Oh sure, I spoke half truths and omitted important details but I never once lied. Not to my sister or my brother or the rabbit or any other self claimed God that came to my hall."

There was the issue of the Pig. He'd lied to the Pig but he was dead when the lie was made so was it truly his lie? That was someone else. Some other Fox. Not the red but the grey. What did the Hagfish know of any of that either? None of this actually happened. None of it was happening now. It was just a dream, dreamed by the dreamer, some cosmic wind fish whose ballad had yet to finish. No hero on some sordid island would play the notes, no nightmare king would claim the dream for himself. No princess, lost in another castle, would with wise words whisk the warrior home.

"You've made an offer you cannot keep so let me make an offer you shouldn't refuse. Stay here, wander no more. The dream you think you're in is real enough to be your home. Creation will be fine without you. The hookah is lit. The food fresh and the Pig could use the company. The Rabbit offers you violence. I offer you release."

**mystic1110** · 2019-03-25, 12:32 PM (ISO 8601)

Spoiler: Previously

Show

Originally Posted by Razade

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

"Listen to this one. It thinks itself real and we the dream. Promises made but unable to be kept. You, my dear, are far out of your depth. The Tea House sits at the cross roads of all things, dream and undream alike. We met a God of Dream, we made a realm for him but even he thought he was from sometime else. Somewhere else. Somewhen else. Pity you who thinks you're the Dreamer and not the dream. Poor as poor might be you're poorer for it. When you wake you'll see that this dream you're dreaming was more real than where you'll end up and you'll curse not taking the time to talk. Where you're headed, talking is like speaking to a wall." The Fox chuckled again, breathing more plumes of smoke in various shapes. An owl, a bat, golems and humans.

"Your problem is you haven't met anyone you couldn't con. No one you couldn't convince to listen. So many have fallen to your tune you're thinking you're hearing it too. But you know deep down that you've got the most to fear. You go this way and that, that way and this, hoping that you'll tangle it all up. To make everyone as tangled up as you." Languid and lethargic the Fox moved to run a hand along the edge of the great tub. "Your tool box is lacking." The Host hissed, happy to hang the words in smoke and smiles as he leaned back against his pillow. "It's true though, the Rabbit speaks the truth. He burned a world to avenge the death of someone he loved and the world was less for it. You couldn't blame him though, I loved him all the same. I made worlds the likes of which you'd tremble to see. Vast oceans where dreadnoughts lay. Plains for the dead and forests for the living. A regular planar slum lord was I. But never once did I concern myself with the world you seek to bind me to. I left the dreams of mortals free and died to make certain this was so. The Green would have loved you. You would have loved it. Tremble thinking what I'd have done if the Rabbit had died. Think indeed! A Rat pregnant by a Fox! The Rabbit died, indeed!"

The Fox sneered and its shadow did too. "You offer things you can't complete and make promises of things you truly wouldn't want. A vexation upon you, we would be. For what better prey than the one that could bring their own dreams to life? How horrifying you'd be, how profitable. No, you simply wouldn't do. The Rat would have loved you, sadly she's married to me. The price I paid for death, to leave her on the alter. My best man an arsonist. All those worlds and they couldn't even find my best work."

With a click of tongue against his teeth the Fox stood once more. "The Rabbit may well have the truth of it. To bring that which you wish into a world unwilling but I say this to you now. I never once lied. I'd ask the Rabbit to verify but how can you trust a liar? But why would I have needed to lie when the truth was all that more effective? Oh sure, I spoke half truths and omitted important details but I never once lied. Not to my sister or my brother or the rabbit or any other self claimed God that came to my hall."

There was the issue of the Pig. He'd lied to the Pig but he was dead when the lie was made so was it truly his lie? That was someone else. Some other Fox. Not the red but the grey. What did the Hagfish know of any of that either? None of this actually happened. None of it was happening now. It was just a dream, dreamed by the dreamer, some cosmic wind fish whose ballad had yet to finish. No hero on some sordid island would play the notes, no nightmare king would claim the dream for himself. No princess, lost in another castle, would with wise words whisk the warrior home.

"You've made an offer you cannot keep so let me make an offer you shouldn't refuse. Stay here, wander no more. The dream you think you're in is real enough to be your home. Creation will be fine without you. The hookah is lit. The food fresh and the Pig could use the company. The Rabbit offers you violence. I offer you release."

House of Scars and Wounds

The thing was . . . the thing was that the Fox was wrong. And suddenly and inevitably Eniym knew this. She hasn't met anyone she could con. No one she could have convinced to listen. No one had fallen for her tunes. What lies has she told that produced any results? Perhaps only the Wind listened to her . . .

And therefore . . . the thing was that the Fox was right. Her toolbox was lacking. Lies lack substance and the substance of belief in her. She needed to be believed for her lies to be believed. It was all circular - and in the smoke, a realization came unbidden. She wasn't believed because of her form - she was a fish - she was disgusting and slimy and from the depths of the ocean. Who would believe a word that came from her cold lipless hanging mouth without a jaw.

She looked at the fox. Tall with sun-kissed skin, ebon hair touching the floor, ears pointed like Mamona's devils. Only his shadow gave him away. Beauty was not the truth, but it gave substance to lies. Beauty seemed necessary for lies, and so the Hagfish, not being a prideful goddess, became a Goddess. Her eel-like body unfurled like silk and her slime congealed into a dress, a brief scream as her mouth took on bones and a jaw, as she grew legs and arms, and there before the Fox stood a Beauty.

To be fair she was an awkward beauty at the moment, unsure of how to walk or even stand, but she stood with alabaster white skin, slanted blue eyes that cackled with lightning, white hair that was braided all the way to the floor, thin limbs that seemed at once delicate and sickly but otherworldly. A white dress that flowed on and on and on like the trails of slime that once trailed her. Behind her, like the Fox, her shadow gave her away - for behind her was a shadow of a small fish, almost lost among the tails of the fox or the fearsome arms and teeth of the Hare.

The Hare laughed at the transformation.

My dear! You are beautiful, but you were more beautiful before! Beauty is in the eye of the beholder and why try to please the beholder at all?! Pluck out its eye and feast on it!

The Hagfi. . .no longer, the Hag? No too beautiful. The Witch, perhaps . . tried to speak.

. . brrlplop . . .

Her mouth caught on what was now lips, no slime blocking her anymore, and yet the tic remained?

The Black Hare gently scolded her.

You think that being beautiful your lies will gain more power? You are fooling yourself. Lies mean nothing. Neither does truth. Only your will matters. You need to care about something enough to hurt it.

But what did she care about other than the storm? To make those tangled lines. She speaks from newly formed lips, her words come from this new form like a flute.

I cannot stay, my friends, but you are right. My tools are lacking. My will is lacking. I see the ropes and knots that bind all in my world together and I want to sheer them all and re-tie them into more pleasing configurations. Is that not enough? Is it not enough that I want to wander? That I want to be a dreamer?

She asks, as even now the smoke and the house of scars and wounds begin to fade, between the Zephyrs the Necropolis is showing, and there is the Stone. But the smoke and the teahouse yet remain to respond.

**bc56** · 2019-03-25, 04:08 PM (ISO 8601)

SUMMUS - MISSION START

Summus landed upon the First World. Standing up, the titanic machine got its bearings. It had gone off course in the descent, and now it searched for a place to get its bearings. The trees beneath its feet reached only as far as its knees. It saw something not far away, a glowing tree taller than even its massive frame, and it made its way towards it, leaving a crushed and broken forest in its wake.

**RolandDeschain** · 2019-03-25, 11:01 PM (ISO 8601)

Kapet, Catan

Consul Damu waited impatiently. He had been tracking Master Seju's progress for months....well 'watching' would be kind, he was often bullying, berating, and at times even threatening. Damu considered this to be a matter of upmost importance, and together with Lord Hiru he had invested a great deal of money in the research.

It was rainy, he was cold and peevish, but he wouldn't leave because he had been promised results. Standing next to the corpulent Lord Hiru on the quay he rocked back and forth trying to keep warm, when Hiru leaned in speaking in hushed tones. "This better work Damu. I'm about out of time and money for your little experiments."

"I've tried everything I can to get him to work faster Hiru. I really have. Remember all we started with was his hair-brained idea and some scribbled down notes. I've slowly come to realize that Seju's brain just doesn't work like anybody else I know....it's much more of a random catalog of information, names, and events." His ears lifted and rotated, as something came into sight out over the bay. "Look there. Maybe there will be some satisfaction today."

The two watched the catamaran dart nimbly over the glassy waters toward the quay, then slide into a long arcing turn. Damu thought for a moment that he could make out the frail looking Seju standing along the rail. As the lithe ship moved away again all was quiet, then a distinct *THRUM* could be heard.....

Hiru pitched backward, threatening to fall into the water, at his reaction to what they had just witnessed, but Damu grabbed his arm and steadied him. The fat minister of finance stammered, "I...I wasn't expecting that!"

Consul Damu kept his gaze locked on the spectacle across the water, as he snorted back, "What? You thought we were going to see rainbows and tulip blossoms Lord Hiru?" His ears flattened and his whiskers twitched, very much assuming the posture of a great cat about to pounce upon its prey, "We're close Hiru....very close."

With that he turned and strode off the quay back to his nearly completed mansion, turning briefly, "Bring me Master Seju when he's finished here..." Then pointing to the old wreck tied to pier nearby, "....and don't forget our purpose here. Don't ever forget."

Jeluhale', Catan

Spoiler: Previously

Show

Originally Posted by Razade

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.

A horse and rider were sent to Lord Damu's estate, but the Consul was in residence in Kapet, so his eldest son Renku arrived some hours later accompanied by two men at arms. After the traditional greetings were observed, Renku inquired, "Redwood Takes Wings, what is this in regards to might I inquire? I was told you were dispatched by Shadow on Snow Peaks, a name we know and hold in high esteem."

Iseu, Enterprise

He stepped back, startled by the featureless, bone-white face of the mysterious stranger. His back pressed up against the wall of the shadow draped alley. As his eyes passed over the figure before him on the ground he felt an overwhelming need to help, to render aid in some way. The sounds of the bustling city drifted away, and overcoming his initial shock, he stepped forward to kneel over the fallen creature. Iseu reached out to lift the stranger to their feet. The voice that spoke from behind the cowl sounded almost ancient, but also firm and steady, "I see you Iseu. I know what's in your heart. You represent the best and in some ways the worst of your people, but you've a good heart. Though kind, a powerful wanderlust lies over your soul, your journeys will be long and filled with tribulations. You will see things no one has ever seen. You will hear wondrous tales and be the subject of many more. Your coming will be a blessing to the multitudes but also your eternal curse. I've waited overlong, and usurped a choice-making that is not mine, but I did so because something....important, is fading from this world."

A small, shaky hand reached up into the cowl and pulled off the featureless face revealing an aged kobold visage. Handing what was now plainly a mask to Iseu, "My Wandering is ended and yours begins." The kobold pressed the mask firmly into Iseu's hand, then lay back and issued one last shuddering breath....

**Razade** · 2019-03-26, 06:19 AM (ISO 8601)

Jeluhale':Catan

Redwood takes Wings remains steadfast for the hours that tick by, not unfriendly but she is no trader and she has no wares to offer. She is a warrior, solid and loyal and oh so very Derro. When Renku arrives, she is swift to hard bread and haash, the greetings most hasty. "The Chiefs have met in their valley, this one brings only this message and this order. The chiefs of the Derro have consulted with the chiefs upon the Mountain. The Derro tribes are to be dissolved. Shadow on Snow Peaks seeks to unite us all, to be like you. The chiefs demand your presence in the Valley. To bare witness. To make certain that this undertaking is done in the proper manner. To make certain you and your kind do not interfere. The chiefs wish only that we be permitted to make this step alone, if only to embrace you as equals when we are finished. This one will escort you, if you are to be sent."

The Derro then falls silent. She doesn't seem to care much how this news registers. Be it hilarity, shock or dread. Certainly a unified Derro might prove dangerous after all. The Derro up until now have been more eager to slaughter one another but with them all together...they are warriors, after all. Who would they wage war against? People close to hand, one might argue. The promise of better trade however lays on the other side of that coin. More Derro working and less Derro dying would mean more Derro goods entering Caracan lands.

Hagfish Remade: The House of Scars and Wounds

The Fox watches, almost bored. He saw the Rat take form, the Green and so many others change. He changed on the regular, what more was one thing turning into another thing. The Gods could do this, ought to do this, he'd argue. With a clap the Fox stood even as the world spiraled away. "Take care though we shall likely never meet again. Sure enough, you've found the tool you were looking for but before you leave? I feel it best to illuminate you on one small thing." The world trembled like a soap bubble about to burst, the lights grew dim and the scent of fetid swamp and moss grew heavy.

"This was never your dream."

With a pop the light was gone. The world, black and blank and even with a new skin...or perhaps because of it...the cold sank in. The Witch was not alone in this dark pit however, something else was all about. Terrible and vast, the darkness moved as if some great serpent's coils shifted. A stone of black slid from the inky nothing and reflected back on a mirror's surface the Hagfish. Not her new form, not even her old form...mostly. Rot had taken her reflection, slime ran rank and rancid from blotchy scales. Fins were chewed to uselessness and the mirror's surface seemed thick with scum. The reflection was not alone either.

There stood Mamona with horns that shone in the murky light or cast it...it was hard to tell. Beside her stood imposing Nemesis, the King of Iron. Mighty he was in armor of molten metal. There so close floated a book bound by blood. Nasguine, the eternal Messenger. Yet more for the Sisters each were there as well, mighty Janika, swift Selima, Mara whose voice was like silk and Loolodi whose mighty roots dug into the darkness. Other figures stood behind, hazy and unclear. A serpent of chains, a magpie, a giant, all were harder to see but surely they were there.

They were there in the darkness too. For all their Divine Glow, rotten hands rose from the void to cling and clutch at Eniym. Mamona aged and frail, gravity a cruel mistress on her sagging form. The King of Iron's armor had cooled, encasing his mighty form in a prison of his own design. Janika lay beaten, bloody and all about her the fallen leaves of a once great tree was all that remained of Loolodi. Selima struck with mange, eyes blind and claws wild as they tore and grasped and with fetid waves Mara's hands spread fallen scales about in a heap. Their breath was ragged as they closed in, the presence...that horrible presence...pressed closer. None of these were gods, no more real than the Fox and the Rabbit and the Pig. But the presence was real and in a flash that battled back the darkness it was laid bare as the white of an eye blinked forth.

An iris swiveled onto Eniym even as this dream too began to fade, searching and seeking until finally it fell upon the fresh faced Witch in full. It contracted to a pinprick though all things relative the pupil was still as large as the Goddess. In that moment the presence magnified. Eniym surely saw it, the dreams of stone, but so too did the stone see her.

The dream ended. Eniym was once more within the Necropolis, a ruined battlement as dull rain drummed on dark stone. She was alone.

**Toxic Mind** · 2019-03-26, 02:54 PM (ISO 8601)

Originally Posted by Razade

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.

The melody begins low and slow. Over the journey Edlyn has practiced daily with the strange instrument, and now it sings at his command just as readily as his own voice. The instrument was crucial, because it allowed him to inject harmony into the Songspell, a level of complexity that would normally take another songsmith to create. Edlyn knew now that the Derro did not truly understand the gift they had given him, but that ignorance did nothing to lessen the gratitude he felt.

He sets in the center of the area a seed, collected from one of the trees among the camp. It was from a fruit-bearing tree, known to the Derro for its sweet and hearty flesh, a favored snack of young and old alike, when they could find it. The song spins out and around the room, a song of warm days where the Dawnfly is high above and he insects buzz among the trees, a day for growing and becoming more. A day for life.

Days among summer
Days among Spring
Warmth and companionship
Wonders they bring
Grow strong Grow tall
My sweet little child
Grow Strong Grow tall
Live free and live wild

The Derro stand entranced by the magic of the song. Or at least, most of them do. Shadow on Snow Peaks watches with sharp eyes, and Waves that Break Mountains, having seen such feats, is more inured to their effects. They watch not the singer, but the seed, as it quickly sprouts into a small sapling, roots hungrily pushing through the floor and into the earth. They watch as it grows to adolescence, an act that takes generations in mere moments, and as thick fruit sprouts on bows that hang about the room. Edlyn, never stopping his song, takes some of the fruit from the tree and passes it around the room. Then, only then, does the song end.

Like dreamers waking from a half-sleep, the room stirs to find a tree in their midst, fruit in their hands. Edlyn stands next to the trunk, munching on a fruit, a ghost of a smile on his face as he looks at Shadow on Snow Peaks.

Originally Posted by Draken

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."

She keeps the disgust from her face, but only just. It was long suspected, the fate of those that disappeared into the Scar, but now confirmed. "You have a strange name, Carnegie the Oil Baron," Adira begins without condemnation, "but We are glad to hear that you can talk, are intelligent. We come to ask why the fighting has stopped. We are happy for such things, for War taxes us all, but We wonder all the same."

Originally Posted by mystic1110

The Protectorate was a worthy colony, but such a colony was in words flitting from his past, in the unholy air instead of the holy waters of the ocean. He paused . . . his past, it was such a hazy memory. He didn't remember much, he didn't remember those thoughts. He shook his large mane as he counted his winnings and put that thought out of his head. His past was unimportant. He was an important lord now and he had an idea. The Raj to overcome its lethargy should expand. It should create. It should create an empire below the waves.

He turns to his strange servant and asks her "I have ruled over Mer but know little of your people. Tell me - what do the Mer know of War?"

The Mer bows low at being acknowledged, though her eyes never leave those of her Master, always twinkling with some strange, hidden knowledge. "Most glorious and beneficent," she begins in a tone that could be seen as mocking, or obsequious, depending on one's mood. She gives no hint as to the true nature of the title; she never does. "The Mer have been at war since I was born. They war with nature itself to tame their environment, hunt the seas, and keep their kingdom safe from predators. They war with the moss that rises from the darkness beneath the earth, animating the dead and swallowing the slain. Many Mer Scouts explore far off lands and fight distant enemies. The Mer know of War." She concludes, with a hint of profound sadness in her tone. "Do you mean to invade the Mer Kingdoms, illustrious lord?"

Spoiler: AP

Show

11/16 AP 1/1 PAP

**Draken** · 2019-03-26, 05:01 PM (ISO 8601)

Originally Posted by Toxic Mind

She keeps the disgust from her face, but only just. It was long suspected, the fate of those that disappeared into the Scar, but now confirmed. "You have a strange name, Carnegie the Oil Baron," Adira begins without condemnation, "but We are glad to hear that you can talk, are intelligent. We come to ask why the fighting has stopped. We are happy for such things, for War taxes us all, but We wonder all the same."

Carnegie shudders and gurgles for a moment.

"When the Burning God first strode the world, many of your generations ago, he put much to flame with his disregard, your people, rats, moss most of all. In response, an ancient power blessed the moss with fertility in flame. This caused the green flood. Not only here, but also in the lands of the Burning God. Their war was even more vicious than yours, for their whole land is aflame. But the giants are a stronger people than yours as well."

The baron spits a cloud of ink into the waters, it shifts into a black, oily thing with humanoid form, but missing even what little lustre the Oil Baron has. If they and the tar lords evoke a thought of a virulent plot of swamp where one would rather not go, then this idol doesn't feel as anything so much as refuse.

"One of the dark gods of Akkraul has all but undone the ancient's gift, however, and so the moss no longer grows explosively upon the molten blood of the first world. Your reprieve is but a side effect of their own. Now the giants are free to expand, with the threat to their shores limited to the nearby Raj. They will clash, but only for borders, what they both want, the other cannot offer."

That almost smile again. Not at what it is saying. Carnegie very clearly holds no particular love for giants or rakshasa.

**mystic1110** · 2019-03-26, 06:27 PM (ISO 8601)

Spoiler: Previously

Show

Originally Posted by RolandDeschain

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.

The tutelage of Turu

The Crags were perpetually misty and it is important to discuss why, because the mistiness of the mountain homes of the mongooses held the very secret of their deadly arts. For you see . . . it was always misty as if the mist did not want to move, as if it could not move, as if it was a languid fish. The mist was a cloud and a cloud heavy with spore and goop and much and all other such solidness that other clouds in the sky were built from. Only, unlike other clouds, this cloud grew too heavy, tilted in the sky and collapsed onto the Crags covering them with eternal mist of such heaviness that one could cut it with a knife. Indeed many of the assassins train by seeing what shapes they can cut out of the mist.

The three bodies of Turu journyed to the Crags along with their assumed brethren, and the shock of the perilous beauty of the mountain homes made him/them gasp - which the other's confused for pride and homesickness. The Assassins returning from their mission kneeled down, and Turu and his bodies did the same, and performed the rite of return, clapping the ground in supplication for a kill well made. Their loved ones cheered as they came back and the mongooses largely split up to find their mates and broods, leaving Turu alone for the first time since he had been born. He looked up and saw the spires of the Crags continue although the tops were still shadowed by the thick tangible mist. He saw that carved into one of the spires of the mountains was a long winding staircase that ascended to above the mist.

Deep in his heart, which he didn't really have physically, but figuratively it is, Turu knew that he must join the Raj, and yet . . . these sights were new and curious and he wanted to see what was beyond the mist. And so he lived among the mongooses observing who would ascend and found that on the eve of a mongoose's adolescence their parents would choose among their number and send them up. When they returned, if they returned, they would be assassins. And so he stayed in the shadows and changed his forms to become younger and younger until he was just the right age and snuck up with the rest of them. The other children were so nervous they didn't notice that they acquired a new classmate.

By the time they reached the top of the mountain, they were exhausted and cold. The top of the Crag was winter shrouded by mist. They saw a stone temple with no decorations built halfway off the top of the mountain and the rest resting on what was a seemingly solid cloud. They nervously entered into a dark hall with every weapon ever forged hanging on its walls. At the end of the hall were ten mongooses and three strange creatures. The creatures appeared as humans, but human skeletons made of lichen. However they were not complete human skeletons - they were missing arms and legs, ribs, parts of their skulls. Whatever had happened to them long ago left its mark.

One of the mongooses at the head of these creatures stepped forward and introduced himself as one of their new Masters. Under the Master's tutelage they would learn how to hide, infiltrate, spy, and most importantly kills. One of the other mongoose masters coughed, and the first speaker laughed and added that they will also learn honor, appreciation and the codes. One of the brave new students asked what was standing behind them, and the Masters turned and bowed and said that these were the Liches. They were exiled masters of the so-called shadow arts. Their people lived on the clouds and were predisposed to teach their learnings to protect a certain liquid that the masters say could bring eternal life. The Liches' people were very skilled in all manner of arts but these three thought to go further, to use weapons and other techniques that were arbitrary, in their eyes, forbidden by their peers. There was a war in the clouds and a great number of other masters defeated them and exiled them onto a falling cloud, never to be among the clouds or brew their secret drink again. The Liches exiled build their fortress here among the Crags and called it Alamut.

In Alamut they trained by themselves for decades, perfecting the shadow arts, with no hope of having students again. That's when the first mongooses ventured up to these heights and the exiled Liches took them on as students. Now the Liches teach the masters and the masters teach the students.

The masters told Turu and the other young mongooses that their training will be very hard and that if any wish to leave now that there would be no disgrace. None left. Very well the masters said there was one initiation left before they would be shown to their dorms and training would begin in the morning.

At this, it seemed that the old exiled liches did have a lesson to teach the students. One of their numbers got up and led them outside, all in the hall followed. Built on the ledge of Alamut were forty planks each balanced by what appeared to be thousands of mushrooms. The lich told them, that they would each have to spend one night on these planks before joining the order. One of the students asked why and what was the plank?

The Lich told them that to dispense with death one would have to know death, to love death and to give into death. Assisnation was not mere capital, it was a holy ritual wherein something died. It didn't matter if it was the target or the Assassin death must have its due. And to innoculate them with this belief in the governance and dominion of death they would sleep in the elements on a plank balanced by mushrooms, mushrooms that by poor chance could explode at any moment into spores to fly into the sky and letting the plank and the mongoose on it to fall to their deaths.

Some of the students blanched at this, but it was too late, they couldn't back out now. However, they noticed that there were only thirty-eight of them but forty planks. Turu was the one who asked who were the other planks for and was answered by a Master and a Lich each getting on one of the planks.

The Master explained that during each class, one of the masters would volunteer and so would one lich to join the students in this holy right. Often they would argue who among their number had the privilege. This was not a test but a prayer.

And so the long night began. Turu's fear was not of falling, but instead the fear that one of the planks that held his three bodies would fall. What would happen to him if he was seperated by too far a distance of himself. Hours passed and the only danger was the cold. Hours still and Turu found himself waking up to a scream and an explosion of spores. One of the students had fallen. He looked over to the Master and Lich both of whom sat in lotus and meditated on the emphmeral nature of life. He tried to do the same.

In all, thirty-five of the students survived the morbid 'prayer' and were allowed to sleep in Alamut. There they began their training in the Shadow Arts. For the first year of their training they would work under each of them (and under the watchful eye of the older students who were not present during initiation). The second year the older student would choose among them and section them off into specialties (of which there were three, stemming from the initial teachings of the three exiled Liches). The third year they would endure harsher training and be tested to see if they would graduate.

The older students told them now that their were initiated they were part of Alamut and are inextricably bound to its law on pain of execution, by being flayed or buried alive. They would learn how to move unseen, to use disguises, and the use of many tools, poisons, and even explosives. The three styles were each called after an insect. They were the Centipede, Antlion, and Wasp.

Turu struck on a plan. He had three bodies, and there were three styles. He would attempt to learn them all and when he joined back together would know all of Alamut's secrets. Then he would enter the Raj as the greatest Assassin who ever existed.

Spoiler: Previously

Show

Originally Posted by Toxic Mind

The Mer bows low at being acknowledged, though her eyes never leave those of her Master, always twinkling with some strange, hidden knowledge. "Most glorious and beneficent," she begins in a tone that could be seen as mocking, or obsequious, depending on one's mood. She gives no hint as to the true nature of the title; she never does. "The Mer have been at war since I was born. They war with nature itself to tame their environment, hunt the seas, and keep their kingdom safe from predators. They war with the moss that rises from the darkness beneath the earth, animating the dead and swallowing the slain. Many Mer Scouts explore far off lands and fight distant enemies. The Mer know of War." She concludes, with a hint of profound sadness in her tone. "Do you mean to invade the Mer Kingdoms, illustrious lord?"

Spoiler: AP

Show

11/16 AP 1/1 PAP

Tale of Marah in the Raj

The sadness, in her voice, offended the young Prince, but even so, he was strangely ashamed.

Invade is an ugly term for ugly people. No. The Raj is growing weak in its depravity and needs to be made strong. Empire is forged from unions and our weakness is that we have sought union with the open air and its filth instead of looking towards our sisters the Mer. I do not want to invade, I want to subsume the Mer and create the largest Kingdom in the world, above and below the surface. With the Mer at our side we can sweep the surface and make it submit to the Raj, and with such conquest the Raj will be made great again. No, I don't want to Invade. I want Marriage.

He said smiling with fanged teeth, failing to notice the twinkle of mirth in his slaves eyes. Conquest - did he even know what that meant? And this sudden lust for a bride? He felt that his life was on a path and that path was greatness for him and the Raj. There was no need to question the path or where it started.

**RolandDeschain** · 2019-03-26, 11:29 PM (ISO 8601)

Zerzura - The Resplendent Realms

Seated upon the lip of one of the Oasis Temple's many fountains, the Desert Maiden trailed her fingers through the turquoise waters. She had attempted in vain to return to the First World numerous times, but was now resigned to the simple fact that there was no going back. In truth, her feelings were mixed and complicated regarding the mortal realm. It was a riot of chaos, filled with life and death, joy and suffering, love and hatred....at times things would swinging wildly out of balance, but somehow inexorably worked their way back.

With a simple thought, she could conjure up images of the First World in the waters of the temple founts, and she would sit idle - silently observing the comings and goings of the mortals.

Having shed Yesterday's Twilight, Yrobios returned to the Oasis Temple, shed those weary souls whose guardianship had ended, and took flight as Tomorrow's Dawn. Selima watched, finding herself unmoved from her melancholy even as she bore witness to the simple beauty of the continuing cycle.

Turning back to the still waters, she watched the wanton viciousness and brutality of the some of the mortals and grew indignant.

Jeluhale' - Catan

Renku was momentarily stunned by the news, but he had his father's bearing and assertiveness. First he dispatched one of his men to Kapet to carry word directly to his father the Consul, then sent his other to fetch someone from the nearby village. He was left momentarily alone with Redwood Takes Wings, and his whiskers twitched nervously as he studied the derro out of the corner of his feline eyes, "T'is momentous news indeed, and if I'm not mistaken something Shadow on the Snow Peaks has long been eager to achieve..."

Moments later Renku's man returned, escorting an older and distinguished caracan man carrying a long spear. Clearing his throat, "Ah yes, this is Jelu...he is known to Shadow on the Snow Peaks. I thought it would be appropriate for him accompany us. We are ready when you are, lead on."

Iseu - Enterprise

It struck him that he was a foreigner in a strange land, kneeling over a dead body in a dark alley, and when it did Iseu responded as anyone would. He panicked. He stuffed the white mask inside his shirt, and darted out into the street with no clear direction as to where he was or where he was going. He tried to steady his breathing and remain calm, but his step was too quick and his mannerisms much to nervous....he was attracting people's attention with his behavior. He ducked down a narrow side street, then moved deeper into the town. Pushing through vendors in merchants in an open plaza, then up a wide set of stairs. Without really knowing how, he found himself in The Fortress, the central temple of Enterprise. He passed through a dark colonnade and emerged into an open area filled with statues depicting a number of figures he recognized.

He knew Mamona on site as well as the Sisters - Selima, Marah, Tafeita, Looloodi, and Janika. There were others, though, that were foreign to him, as well as two empty pedestals. The statues were arranged in a large circle around him, a circular pool lay before him, and the doorway he had stumbled through lay behind him. For long moments he stood stock still, catching his breath and taking in the rather somber and foreboding air of the place.

Consul Damu - Kapet

They were gone, passing out of sight across the bay, for weeks he had considered going with them, but had allowed himself to be convinced by his advisers that such a thing were both unnecessary and improper. He was needed here; let those who had been trained for the job see it through.

He loomed over Master Seju, asking again, "You're certain they won't break...that there will be no...accidents."

The wizened old Master shook his head, "Of course I'm not certain, but all precautions have been taken. The ceramic heads are sturdy yet brittle, and are stored in down-cushioned crates. They are designed to break only under certain conditions....but nothing is ever certain. The Curtains on the other hand have proven a spectacular success. They're premixed in the proper ratio, are simple to use, and last quite awhile. The men have been well trained. Your little venture is in good hands, but who knows what they'll encounter."

Lord Hiru clapped the Consul on his shoulder, "Come Damu, we've other matters to attend to. We'll learn of the return on our investment in due time."

Walking back up the quay, they each paused at the pier where the old wreck had remained for all these many months. Each of them acknowledged its absence in their own way. Damu was not a man of deep faith, but he offered up a rushed prayer to the Sisters.

**Razade** · 2019-03-27, 05:17 AM (ISO 8601)

Jeluhale': Catan

"The chief's desires are their own." Is all the Derro would say weighing in on the matter, waiting as one would expect from the Warrior. That is until Jelu is brought forward, the Derro female bowing low in greeting. "All Derro know of Jelu, friend of Shadow on Snow Peaks. They will be most pleased at his presence and this one takes with honor the charge of leading him to the Valley. We must leave immediately. Until such time we meet again."

The Derro, like all of her people, take the task of transporting Jelu and whoever else is brought along through the Derro Lands. The travel is swift and grueling, the Derro lands not at all built for easy movement though the tip is otherwise unremarkable. Shadow on Snow Peaks is of course delighted, as delighted a Derro might show, to see their old friend. The camp is alive with the talk of the Mer and their Spellsong, less debate and more hurried conversations on just how practical it would be. It would see the Mer's demonstration however many days ago was a success.

With Mer and Caracan present, Shadow on Snow Peaks and the assembled chiefs are swift to lay out their plan.

The Nation of Wano, Catan: The Derro move Forward

Let it not be said that the Derro were not assisted in their rise from petty tribal bands to the slow starts of a mighty nation. The Derro would vociferously refute such claims, their honor all but demanded it. True to the words of their chiefs, a war swept through the Derro valleys and mountains. The fighting was intense, the fighting was brutal as one would expect as the united tribes took down their enemies and buried them with songs of victory, songs of triumph, songs of success.

The Derro who had come from Vagrant and Vagabond stock had survived the harsh winter and the long spring after. The wars were swift as the united tribes took the teachings of their friends of Mer and Caracan. Roads were built to aid armies, forests of ebonwood were cleared for actual homes, the sounds of workshops rang out as weaponry replaced simple spears and bone tools. Those that would stand in the way of the united Derro had only one place to go. The grave. Their bodies were cast into the Bones of the World, chopped to pieces to feed anything that dwelt beneath in offering. The first united chief had fallen there, tributes must be paid.

When the dust settled the Derro were much as they were before but ever so different. Where once tribal bands stood, the collected chiefs left their valleys for the last time to enact their plan. The first was the civil wars that shook their people to their core. Shadow on Snow Peaks had seen this, had known they would come just as surely as the rains. The next step was to forge a new government, and in this the chiefs had thrown their weight. Shadow on Snow Peaks had expected this as well. The united Derro would never accept a single leader. With the loss of Steam that Greets the Morning they had lost any hope that a singular force would pull them under a single leader like the Mer. So Shadow on Snow Peaks had looked to the Caracan. The land sharing was clever but the Derro would not simply take to this, to ownership of those not chosen by the Chiefs.

Shadow on Snow Peaks invented a lie, held by the other chiefs for their own political gain. The chiefs would marry, they would draw their families together and together would forge the Kohakuto. What was once tribes were now united Clans. There would be twenty one of these Clans, the number would only change based on the old ways. Cyclical wars between the families. The families would be split ten and ten with a single family to “rule” over them.

The first ten were known as Kohakuto-Hana and they were the Tsubaki, Sumire, Momo, Sakurasou, Asago, Kiku, Kinmokusei, Kosmosu, Ume, and Himawari. The Kohakuto-Ben would rule over the mountains and valleys as many of the tribes that formed them had in ages past.

The last ten were known as the Kohakuto-Okazu. These families were the Oden, Natto, Tamago, Yaki, Shabu, Kaiseki, Kamabako, Chawanmushi, Wagashi and Tsukemono. The Okazu were given dominion of the oceans, islands and forests as many of the tribes that formed them held these lands since the long winter.

The final Clan was set apart. This was the Fuji and the other Clans came forward to their many peoples with stories of the ancients, come from the Mountain, declaring them as the chiefs of chiefs who carried the torch forward of the chiefs of the past. This too was the shrewd calculations of Shadow and the amassed chiefs. The people, the Derro, would need a figurehead. They would need knowledge that the ancients accepted so many changes and so swiftly. The Fuji would be given the Valley of Chiefs and the city that would be built there. The Kohakuto would send members of their Clan to oversee the function of the Imperial Clan’s running. In truth they would be the spear point to the neck of their chosen leaders. Should the Kohakuto deem it needed, they claimed they held the honor of choosing a new Imperial Clan. This too would follow the old way. War.

With this the Derro forged their nation. Wano. Land of Blade, Land of Beauty. Wano was split between eleven states. At its center lay the Imperial Capital, Fujisusutake. The other ten were Aij-Iro, Kachi-Iro, Oitaki-Iro, Koke-Iro, Kaba-Iro, Sango-Iro, Koubai-Iro, Akebono-Iro, Mushikuri-Iro and Matsuba-Iro. These ten states were split between the twenty Clans, each state holding two clans. These clans oversaw their people, forming a governing body known as a Dango.

Let it not be said as well that Wano was built solely by the Derro for this too they would refute. The Derro were knowledgeable in the many ideas and technologies that their friends within the Mer and Caracan had shown them. The Derro felt it would be nothing short of heresy were they to take these lessons and apply them perfectly. Vast workshops were built, classes offered and those who had passed their Test of Ebonwood were permitted to specialize in many fields. Just as in war, the Derro accepted only the best. In this way, the Derro spent all their time they’d otherwise have spent learning and inventing in crafting and perfecting. The Derro were not the brightest or the oldest of people, they would have to learn to be inventive on their own, but they were earnest and hardworking and all the energy no longer put to killing one another was put to the task of building a nation and creating goods that their friends within the Mer and Caracan could use.

Shadow on Snow Peaks had promised the Caracan and Mer they would be friends worthy of their time, their respect, their good graces and better temperaments. In this way, they hoped they delivered.

Spoiler: AP Actions

Show

AP: 5
Create Society (2AP) - Wano, the Kingdom of Blade and Beauty: The Derro Tribes are united under the Wisteria Throne and the Twenty Clans. Derro life is much improved though the feudal lords are ever eager to keep power. The transition to their current form was bloody and peace is a balancing act for a people who only know how to suffer and survive. Perhaps their energies are best thrown into what makes their kingdom known as one of Beauty, their towns and roads and other great works rivals to any of the older races. This nation is united under a spiritual leader in the form of an Emperor and the appointed clan heads. One could easily call Wano a Theocratic Country as the priesthood that were the chiefs have remained in control. [Death (Animism) 4/10)]

Create Advanced Concept (2AP) - Derro Craftsmanship: The Derro have an extensive system of workshops with a rigid hierarchy of apprentices, workmen and masters in their country thanks to the shared knowledge of the Mer and Catan. Combined with powerful Spellsong ceremonies dedicated to their own Gods and faith, the Derro use their intimate knowledge of nature and its products to great effect. These workshops are little more than temples to the Derro. ]Death (Animism) 6/10)]

**RolandDeschain** · 2019-03-27, 12:37 PM (ISO 8601)

Commodore Vojku - Simbani

He hated the waiting, the time would drag on and the thick bank of smoke would make it impossible to see what was going on. The bells had sounded, but recent experience had taught him that he needed to wait patiently for the hook to completely set. Seconds ticked by tensely as he counted down in his head, finally with a wave of his hand he signaled for the answering bell to be sounded, then shouted, "Full sail!". The H.C.S. Resolute lurched forward. His was the sixth catamaran to break the bank of smoke, but it was clear that the other Captains had awaited the signal this time and they formed up quickly.

Captain Eitu and the H.C.S. Temerity fittingly led the way. There were five goblin and orc longships closing on Lord Hiru's cargo ship this time, and as usual there was no order to their formation....the goblins and orcs only ever thought of striking with speed. Vojku grinned as Captain Eitu moved to split the gap between the lead orc longship and the cargo vessel. "Bring us in close behind the Vindicator, Master Dundu! Let's cross the T!"

Looking back over the deck, he nodded in satisfaction as the launchers were being loaded, "We'll be last in line Master Titu, watch your elevations!"

*THRUM* *THRUM* *THRUM*

Vojku turned back, just in time to see the first Fire-Head strike the lead raiding ship. An eruption of violet colored flames exploded across the deck, stubbornly clinging to every surface it struck, and burning with a greedy ferocity. In seconds the longboat was completely enveloped and burning goblins were diving into the water hoping to extinguish the flames. Vojku knew they would be sorely and fatally disappointed though, Seju's Fire would continue to burn beneath the waves.

Fires blossomed across the other raiders in quick succession. As the leading orc vessel slipped below the waves, Vojku turned to watch his own weaponeers launch. He traced the long arcing shot with satisfaction as three of the four Fire-Heads smashed into the trailing raider that was madly scrambling to disengage.

A sailor standing nearby pointed and yelled, "survivors in the water!" Vojku watched a handful of badly burned orcs floundering in the waves. With a grim shake of his head, "Leave 'em boys! You know the drill! To arms! We're going ashore. Burn the village and any remaining boats or canoes. If any raise weapons against you, kill them. Any that surrender, are to be left alone."

A little over an hour later, the deed was done. Commodore Vojku scribbled into his log their approximate location on the rudimentary map he had been given. The tallies brought this to their seventh village hit, and forty-three enemy ships destroyed. He watched his men scramble to their landing boats, and nodded to the other captains. Tucking the log into his sea coat, he couldn't help but wonder how Commodore Badoru and Commodore Melu were doing.

Last order of business, he took a piece of the Old Wreck - the catamaran that had been returned to Kapet by the orcs and goblins with the message "we took them" and its crew missing- and drove it deep into the sandy beach. The old and splintered piece of wood had a simple message written on it, "You take, you die."

Spoiler: AP Accounting

Show

Beginning AP = 8AP +1PAP
Create Advanced Concept[Closed](2AP) - Alchemy:

Smoke Curtains are very large smoke bombs creating heavy blankets of smoke that linger for extended periods of time. That are used to hide the movements and disposition of Setter troops and ships.
Fire-Heads are pretty basic incendiary devices that are contained in brittle ceramic containers that shatter on contact, mixing the different components and throwing the sticky, viscous oil in a standard splash pattern. The contents are often referred to as Seju's Fire which is extremely volatile when mixed and exposed to oxygen. Over time water can diffuse the oily mixture, but is nearly useless in extinguishing the flames - often doing more harm than good by simply spreading the compound further.
Acid-Heads sames as above except, you know, acid
Flash-Heads same as above except a burst of painfully bright light that blinds everyone in the area of effect
Blast-Heads same as above except stuns and deafens those in the area of effect
Frost-Heads same as above, but coats everything in ice/frost, causes numbing cold and painful injuries
Stink-Headshorrific smelling concoction that sickens everyone in the area of effect
Deep-Moss Snuff is basically a short-lived mutagen for caracan, granting them extraordinary speed, dexterity, and strength for short burst, after which they become fatigued.

Ending AP = 6AP + 1PAP

**neriractor** · 2019-03-27, 04:24 PM (ISO 8601)

Ramona Bittermoss: Dead

Ramona found the calm speech reassuring, and picked up her dagger with a nod, no longer concerned about such petty things as what material her body was made us.

She took in the sights with a curiosity best reserved for the suicidaly feline, running around not too far from her mostly wary guide, and trying to drag him along to inspect some of the most interesting bits.

The marvel did not stop when they found the beaten giant, And she listened intently to the tale of a land she wouldn't have dreamed of... And that of a gate, sounded simple enough, why by that definition she carried one every couple of months. Eventually she continued, likely dragged along by they who were wiser after her far too many attempt to get the giant to come with or to realize that they were gonna be fine, mountains couldn't be too far for one with such mighty step...

She ignored scarab and snake alike as they went, the only use for the beasts being to blatantly signal her lack of a want for food right now.

And of the battered door, the greenskins surprised Ramona and may have gotten a chance were she alone...

Her dagger still stained with ash and happy as one who couldn't stare into the abyss no matter how strongly it stared at her, she grabbed the paw of the Chief with slightly more trust than deference, and with a glint in her eye (had she any) asked Steam That Greets The Morning to come inspect some ruins of a most funny tubular construction before they continued onward, wherever that may be.

Daghir and Janika

The anatomically incorrect manifestation of form frowned "So I cause you grief?" He didn't know if he wanted an answer, yet he couldn't stop asking.

"Sounds great" he replied with an eerie smile, as any smile that lets you see the other side of the head is.

Perhaps it was the current tumult of screams dragged away in chains (like that wasn't every day in the first land) or the comment about grief but Daghir just couldn't shake conflict with Nemesis as he entered the Caldera behind one of the Janikas.

And so thought materialized, as it does for many gods and the windy maze roared with every echo against the invading giant-kind, just as Daghir pondered if there was any reason for conflict between them.
...

Spoiler: AP

Show

-2 AP curse (counter curse the iron roads): Caldera tried to be a safe haven to the chaotic first land and as such is no place for conquerors, or at least not foreign ones, the iron road inevitably leads outside the caldera and into the ravenous first land (not that the giants would struggle against it). The windy maze and its echoes (other echoes as well, including those in karam-kor though they can at most creep them out) are anathema to any tiran-born, leading to starvation, untimely accidents, abushes and goose chases. [2/10 Resolution (conflict)]

AP left: 14/16 .

**ChaoticHarmony** · 2019-03-27, 08:12 PM (ISO 8601)

Looloodi: Resplendant Realms

Looloodi wanders the new realm of her Sisters, basking in the warm Light that surrounds her. Such a lovely place, with plenty of space for all of them to create Beauty and Life. It is about time to add her own personal touch to it. Shaking out her hair, Looloodi spreads out many seeds that fall from it, causing a vast field of flowers to pop up from the formerly bare ground beneath her. The colors of the petals shift and wave, nearly giving her new garden the appearance of a sea of rainbows.

Very satisfied with her work, she looks towards her Pantheon Siblings sections. While all are lovely in their own right, Looloodi can not help but feel they could use a little brightening up. Looking towards the vast and mysterious desert, and idea pops in her mind, and she giggles at the surprise she can leave her Sister next time she comes. Gently plucking from her body dozens of Looloodite turquoise, Looloodi crushes them into a fine powder, which she quickly blows towards Selima's land. As the dust land, a slight ripple overtakes the dunes, as each grain of sand becomes imbued with a sparkling light. Looloodi jumps up into the air to view her handiwork, sure Selima will enjoy the sight as well, when she spots the Caracan Goddess a distance away, leaning over a still pool of water.

"HEY! SISSY!" She cries out as she makes her way towards the Desert Maiden. "Like, Hi Sissy! How are you, like, doing? .......Like, are you ok?" She asks as she notices the frustrated look on Selima's face.

Spoiler: AP Usage

Show

Started with 5/16 AP 0/1 PAP

Rollover +4 AP +1 PAP

Alter Plane(1): Chromatic Fields
Sprouting in the Realm of Light are now vast fields of flowers, whose petals constantly shift colors. These flowers absorb the natural light of the Replendant Realms and refract it into constantly moving waves of color.[Using Towards Light(Purity)]

Bless(1): Glimmering Sands
The Desert sands of the Realm of Light are now made up entirely of Looloodite, giving the dunes a beautifully soft glow.[Using Towards Light(Purity)

Domains:
Nature(Plants)
Earth(Gems)
Life(Beauty)
Life(Rebirth)
Nature(Poison) 3/10
Light(Purity) 6/10

Ended with 7/16 AP 1/1 PAP

**RolandDeschain** · 2019-03-27, 09:29 PM (ISO 8601)

Selima and Looloodi - Zerzura

Leaping to her feet, Selima rushes to embrace her sister, "Loo!"

Waving an expansive arm, "Welcome to Zerzura, the White City. Oh Loo....it seems like an eternity since I've seen you. So much has happened."

Reaching out, she traces her finger along the collar around her Sister's neck, "For one, I've learned the secret of this.....gift from Nemesis."

Considering Looloodi's question, she turns and looks back at the waters of the fountain, "I'm doing okay, I guess. I'm ashamed to admit I was thinking of doing something wicked...not without cause mind you....but, wicked none-the-less."

**Razade** · 2019-03-27, 11:51 PM (ISO 8601)

Steam that Greets the Morning, Ramona Bittermoss: Dead

The going was difficult, Steam that Greets the Morning was in hell after all, but they weren't alone. This made them happier, knowing that another warrior was there with them. Misery in spades was all around them, but with two people it helped to average it out. It also kept them from their more feral and furious impulses, knowing they had someone else that they needed to protect. Not, of course, because Ramona needed protecting but because a second person to swing a weapon around was more valuable than not having one of those.

So it was with silence Steam that Greets the Morning takes much of the ensuing nightmares. Snakes and scarabs, as unslightly as they might be, were common enough in the Derro lands. The muck and mire was what made it all so much worse. They couldn't do anything about the things that hounded them. The giant was left, a valuable ally they might have made but they were too far gone. Ramona's attempts would only delay them or worse, trap them alongside the giant. Surely there were other giants who might want to get free of this wretched place they'd offered as they dragged the Hafling away.

The goblins, strange things, were much easier to deal with. With blade and fist, Steam was quick to defend their accomplice and a hasty retreat was made. If the Gateway was worth fighting for, there wouldn't be anyone to fight over it. The goblin dead would be gone and they'd be free to use it. That passageway was a dead end. Even if they couldn't die again, and maybe they could, it wasn't worth fighting over just to get stuck.

It would have to be the ruins. They took point behind Ramona, whatever came, they'd conquer it they'd said. They had to get home. There was no other outcome acceptable to a warrior.

**Toxic Mind** · 2019-03-28, 03:24 PM (ISO 8601)

Originally Posted by Draken

Carnegie shudders and gurgles for a moment.

"When the Burning God first strode the world, many of your generations ago, he put much to flame with his disregard, your people, rats, moss most of all. In response, an ancient power blessed the moss with fertility in flame. This caused the green flood. Not only here, but also in the lands of the Burning God. Their war was even more vicious than yours, for their whole land is aflame. But the giants are a stronger people than yours as well."

The baron spits a cloud of ink into the waters, it shifts into a black, oily thing with humanoid form, but missing even what little lustre the Oil Baron has. If they and the tar lords evoke a thought of a virulent plot of swamp where one would rather not go, then this idol doesn't feel as anything so much as refuse.

"One of the dark gods of Akkraul has all but undone the ancient's gift, however, and so the moss no longer grows explosively upon the molten blood of the first world. Your reprieve is but a side effect of their own. Now the giants are free to expand, with the threat to their shores limited to the nearby Raj. They will clash, but only for borders, what they both want, the other cannot offer."

That almost smile again. Not at what it is saying. Carnegie very clearly holds no particular love for giants or rakshasa.

There is a raised eyebrow-ridge at the assertion that Giants were stronger than Mer. Physical strength was meaningless when one could be brought low by poison or spell. Still, it was not in Adira's nature to argue pedantry, when there were greater stakes in the game. "So why do you remain, when your moss-kin have gone? Is there something you wish from the Mer?"

The Temple District

For a time there had been strife, nigh upon schism, among the Mer. Priests and adherents of the Gods and Goddesses, at each others throats, often literally, over matters of faith. Would the temple of Selima worship the Caracan aspect of her, or the Mer? What of the Derro, and their strange gods, far more savage than the Mer. Humans, Halflings, even Rats (though no one for a moment considered Otters as anything other than experts, and if they could talk they would have easily settled the matter). As tensions built, Mer guard were dispatched to keep the peace. Yet it was no great teacher or orator that solved the crisis, but instead a child. A single Mer, brought by her mother, asked the high priestess of Marah, the Matron Mother of the temple, why Marah couldn't be a Caracan AND a Mer. It was a thought that had never occurred to them, that the Goddess would take many different forms to appear before others. The idea spread slowly at first, but buoyed by Songspell and Prophecy, which showed the truth of this new thought, it quickly pervaded the whole of Mer society. Disagreements were common, but now people were free to worship aspects of the gods as they pleased, and many smaller side-temples were raised alongside the main Mer ones - still visited and honored, often by the same Mer on the same day.

Spoiler: AP

Show

11/16 AP 1/1 PAP
-2AP Bless: Ties Without Distance (Counter-Curse) - The Mer are the children of Marah, Goddess of Companionship, and do not fear or despise those different than themselves. They welcome newcomers and unique ideas, freely incorporating them into their own civilization. Nowhere is this more prevalent than their religion, where Temples to different gods may contain many different images and aspects of the deity. The Mer subscribe to the belief that each god can have many aspects, and all can be true.
Music (Song) 10/10

Marah is now the Goddess of Music and Song!

Ending AP: 9/11 1/1 PAP

**Tychris1** · 2019-03-28, 04:26 PM (ISO 8601)

Roosting about the oceanic life with voracious destructive power Enkidan savaged the coast of Karam-Kor with its intense hunger for days before finally growing bored and accidentally rolling away from the tide. Distanced from its food the disgusting conglomeration of gluttony and sloth tried to claw its way back but promptly gave up after three seconds of effort.

"How am I to rule if I must carry myself to and fro?" The Duke of Disgust thought to itself as it burbled and undulated in rhythm with its growling stomach "If I am part of this Shining Court I should have something fit to bear me." Pleased with the thought Enkidan began to claw its way back to Akkraul before promptly giving up after three seconds of effort. Forgetting its plan entirely the blob of dark mire and swampy refuse loitered about the outskirts of Akkraul, consuming any Troll, Moss, or other creature stupid or unlucky enough to get within arms reach of the growing mass of girth. Slowly it grew to such size that the creature could see the peaks of Akkraul and the workings of Nemesis in the distance clearly. Screeching and lazily barking at the Fire God, Nemesis was pestered by the incessant whining of Enkidan for a time that felt like an epoch and an instant before finally the Lethargic Lord was silenced by a gift, and all was right with the world. Forged upon the Anvil of Creation the glorious Palanquin depicted engraved Trolls, Ogres, and Giants in supplication along the carrying rods. A beautiful silk curtain draped the entry way where an ocean of papasan chairs awaited the feted god. A throng of Ogres hoisted the Progenitor's Palanquin, their wails of remorse evident to the world, and they carted the hulking beast from house to house in Akkraul as Enkidan bathed in the wonders of the world they had helped to create. A glorious civilization that would pamper their every need and fill their mouth with unending morsels. Or it would have if it didn't feel an irritating pull at the back of its mind. Slowly the pull went from mental to physical as Enkidan felt the Palanquin they sat upon floating up through the air. This wasn't particularly unusual since the Progenitor's Palanquin was an artifact of mighty divine will easily capable of moving of its own design (And in fact was intended to do so, Enkidan just often would forget and so having creatures physically tow it along saved them the mental energy of concentrating on floating the Progenitor's Palanquin). No what was odd about it was that Enkidan wasn't thinking about moving at all when suddenly they began to drift from the First World.

"You stupid useless Ogres, do something! Pull me down!" Enkidan roared as the slow (Both physically and mentally) Ogres realized what happened and began to desperately reach up and grab the rods that once weighed heavily upon their shoulders. Every time one of them slipped their grasp Enkidan would stoop its chunky neck to eat them. This process continued until only one Ogre remained who, despite their subraces renowned ignorance, was still sharper than most Goblins or other lower life forms thanks to Enkidan's own ironic blessing and astutely placed self preservation over continued servitude to a God being dragged away by an unknown power. Glutted upon the flesh of countless ogres subservient to them, Enkidan's body had reached a critical mass too great for the First World to handle, and parts of it began to evaporate then get sucked into a portal that lead to the familiar unknown. "Traitorous Worm! I gave you life and I shall take it! Aid your master at once! GET BACK HERE!" Enkidan snapped and hissed and roared but made no motion to move or resist the pulling of its own accord, rather it just kept pushing its mouth forward in a desperate bid to eat the offending Ogre, and in light of the Ogre's inevitable escape it desperately tried to consume anything and everything around it. Earth, homes, air, and more was absorbed into the creatures rapidly expanding mass until only its head was visible as all else was siphoned off through this portal that seemed far too small for Enkidan to fit through. The portal stopped abruptly at Enkidan's throat, the divine laws of the First World finding trouble with a creature of such mass, and it floated in the air awkwardly for a brief moment as Giants abound stared on at the spectacle in awe. Desperately wriggling its neck about the God of the Shining Court finally let loose a high pitch ree as the world began its process of kicking them out with suddenly renewed vigor and most of Enkidan's head disappeared within the portal.

"Just one more... BITE!" It growled as its disgusting mouth was the last thing to require entrance through the portal and provided it the most resistance. A loud slicing noise was heard throughout Akkraul as the portal seemed to spark and give out before exploding violently and tearing the god's mouth free from its face shunting the rest of Enkidan painfully from the first world. Plopping onto the floor unceremoniously the mouth twitched and bubbled before a dark smog cloud formed overhead from where the portal previously worked its magic and a black bolt of flame jutted down to consume it entirely. Rising from the fires was a wing that blotted the light of Akkraul's flame, then another wing that blotted the light of Looloodi, and finally a head emerged from the smoke that could swallow a giant whole. A massive black quadrupedal creature of scales, thews, wings, and horns emerged from the site of Enkidan's departure and its eyes burned with the golden glow of the Shining Court. A black dragon of immense size, a small continent of power, and an aura of majesty that with it brought instant recognition to all the Giants looking upon this creature floating above their city.

"I am Derian Ka! Maw of Enkidan! Let my birth mark a glorious age for your people! Mark it down upon every stone, stab, and ingot you possess for it shall be known throughout time! Bring me food and treasure for like my Mother I HUNGER and RULE." The titanic Dragon announced its presence for all of Akkraul to know before flying to the perch of Nemesis's mountain and roosting precariously on its edge to oversee its new home.

Elsewhere in the universe Enkidan felt themselves plummeting for a time long enough that the God grew bored and fell asleep. It was a slumber so deep that the God did not even notice when its glorious Palanquin crashed into one of Mamona's intricately managed gardens and splattered a devil in the process. Shrouded behind silken cover the stupid God slumbered and snored loudly.

Spoiler: AP Expenditure

Show

4 AP Gifted to Dark to use his Forge of Creation Charge and create the Progenitor's Palanquin Greater Utility Artifact (Create Avatar): A glorious palanquin of silver, gold, and black iron this magical tool of royal power adjusts itself to accommodate the taste and size of any who sit within it. A great curling dragon sitting upon a horde of glittering gold, food, and artwork acts as the roof of the Palanquin, its stretched out awnings a silken tapestry venerating the wonders of whoever occupies it, and reflecting their will and history upon its artful yet ever shifting design. A railing of fine marble around the inner sanctum keeps Enkidan from accidentally falling out when they slumber and also acts as a pen to contain their steadily engorging body. Its poles of forged iron are mostly for show as the Palanquin is fully capable of flying around on its own at the will of its master and floating at ease when not (A fact that Enkidan often forgets or remembers then plays off as a great concentration of will). The Palanquin conjures anything that the Degenerate God desires as it attempts to mirror and please its host automatically, so great is its mirroring that it even possesses the power to create mighty facsimile's of Enkidan: Dragons, the Spawn of Lethargy, Hunger, and destructive greedy waste.

Sloth (Command) Domain Acquired! Enkidan ascends!

3 AP (Progenitor's Palanquin Charge) Create Avatar Derian Ka; The Maw of Enkidan: The literal mouth of Enkidan sliced off in the process of its shunting from the First World, the Dragon Avatar regards Enkidan as Mother and Father and possesses the same crafty thieving mind, hateful heart, lazy lounging spirit, and endless hunger for more.

3/10 AP Sloth (Dragons).

0 AP (The Shining Crown Charge) Curse: The Mer suffer from the same lethargy that afflicts the Rakshasa, projects abandoned at random, and statues or buildings left to ruin and disrepair. They rely ever more on the power their trade and influence can provide, fearful that the Rakshasa will move on them if they personally act or are seen by the algae spawned Tiger monstrosities, and grow idle in hiring or bribing others to work for them.

1 PAP Create Mundane Concept History: Derian Ka's arrival to Akkraul sparks great interest and wonder amongst Giant kind who take to marking specific days and nights of the years in a historical context to venerate or look back upon. Many Giants have a sense of pride in regards to their ancestry or their past deeds and proudly extol their history tablets and stories to all who would listen. The Giants never forgive and never forget.

1/10 PAP to Order Sphere for Shining Court.

0 AP and PAP Remaining.

**Nefarion Xid** · 2019-03-28, 06:28 PM (ISO 8601)

Chalice

"What the absolute **** is that?" Whatever debauchery Mamona had been occupying her time with was put on hold as she marched to a balcony to see the thing that had crashed in her gardens. Gazing in barely contained, frothing anger, the queen leaned precariously far over the marble railing, making empty gestures and screaming incoherent curses. The bramble and lichen were explained as the first world's influence leaking through to her plane, but fat man riding a magic palanquin was beyond the pale.

Roused by their queen's ire and driven by innate knowledge of what did and didn't belong in the realm, the winged devorim buzzed to action. Abandoning their other duties, they unsheathed their obsidian short swords and swarmed Enkidan, stabbing the sleeping creature's blubber with impotent fury. Their blades shattered against his corpulence, and the apian devils to resort to kicking the god with the hard chitin toes of their boots. Meanwhile, Mamona shrugged back into her cast off linen dress and descended the steps to greet her "guest".

**Tychris1** · 2019-03-29, 12:52 AM (ISO 8601)

The blades of the devils sunk deeper and deeper into Enkidan’s frame as the slumbering god seemed to absorb the minerals for digestion unconsciously. A swarm of violent kickings did naught to shatter Enkidan’s sleep, though the creatures stirring gave false hope to the devorim, and was quickly dashed as it lazily reached out with one claw to snatch an apian morsel and begin sleep eating them at an inexhorable rate.

**TheDarkDM** · 2019-03-29, 04:46 AM (ISO 8601)

Nemesis

Fresh from his exertions to furnish Enkidan with a fitting seat, Nemesis watched with consternation as the corpulent divinity made his tour of Akkraul. As a member of the Shining Court, the devourer served his purpose in the natural order, but to watch it unfold with such joyful abandon offended Nemesis's craftsmanship. He felt himself reaching for Urad, that he might undo the damage of Enkidan's debauch, only to pause as the younger god was overcome. The portal above Akkraul wrought greater destruction still, if only in the desperation it roused in its prey. Volcanic rock shattered under Nemesis's clenched fist, and his great hammer leapt to answer his growing fury. He raised it above his head even as Enkidan's final scream echoed into terrible life, but before he decided between salvation or damnation a curious sensation stole over the iron god. A distance he had never known slithered into life, a curtain drawn across the world clear as glass yet unbreakable as his own will. He looked down to the fiery heart of Karam-Kor, only to see it drop away into darkness. Where once Creation had opened before him to an infinite horizon, Nemesis found himself alone in nothingness.

It was a sensation without sensation. Iron skin long accustomed to the feckless cold of mortal air now strained for any touch. Eyes that had opened and brought light and life to darkness blinked back a colorless haze. His grip tightened on Urad, and the sound broke through utter silence like a scream in the night. The emptiness roiled in stillborn patterns that slid from memory, leaving eddies in the mind that threatened to siphon all into madness and oblivion. But for all the endless void that awaited without, within his chest Nemesis could still feel the endless potency of a god. He clutched hard to that light, an anchor in the twisting sea, and so returned to himself. He was a Lord of Creation, and though the earth had been his womb he had no more need of it than a fish had need of land. He raised up a hand, and from his palm bloomed light. With light, came darkness, a shadow stretching from Nemesis's feet into eternity. Nemesis smiled, and the lines of his shadow exploded into a million million tendrils of black substance. Foundations took shape, walls, ceilings, a thousand rooms stretching a thousand miles in a thousand levels. Finally the emptiness was no more, replaced by a darkness in which the light of Nemesis was all and evermore.

The surface of Nemesis's new demesne rumbled in response to its completion, permanence seemingly met with protestation as the floor before him cracked and splintered. But it was not the consuming grey that emerged from the bulging wound - the Anvil of Creation had crossed the ocean between worlds to rejoin its maker, and when it emerged the ground beneath it gleamed smooth and whole once more. Nemesis ran a gentle hand over its etched and flawless plane, breathing low and deeply of the air that flowed newborn though his halls. He tapped Urad once against the Anvil, summoning a tone pure and clean and fragile. The echo bounced through empty galleries, slowly fading into nothingness, and when the last trace of it had vanished he began to hum. A low and wordless melody thrummed through his body, and the first strike of hammer against anvil was the first murmur of a heartbeat. Light flashed through the surrounding rooms, only for the shadowstuff to drink it and be transformed. The heartbeat continued, hammer strokes keeping time to Nemesis's soul-borne song, and with every impact the echoes built upon each other. Harmonies formed as patterns in the surrounding walls, black ephemera transfigured to gleaming ethereal metal. Wells of liquid fire rose up in the depths, pumping light and heat through the whole of Nemesis's creation, and in response windows of polished glass emerged to catch the radiance. Workshops and armories beyond count were joined by festhalls and antechambers, wide gardens and secret libraries, while at the peak where Nemesis stood a throne took shape.

Spoiler: AP

Show

Free AP = 7
Spent AP = 30

4 AP - Weave Plane, The Adamant Palace (Nobility (Sovereignty))

Domain Progress:
Craft (Metalworking) - 10/10 Complete
Life (Giants) - 10/10 Complete
Corruption (Ambition) - 10/10 Complete
Nobility (Sovereignty) - 4/10

**ChaoticHarmony** · 2019-03-29, 08:29 AM (ISO 8601)

Spoiler: Previously

Show

Selima and Looloodi - Zerzura

Leaping to her feet, Selima rushes to embrace her sister, "Loo!"

Waving an expansive arm, "Welcome to Zerzura, the White City. Oh Loo....it seems like an eternity since I've seen you. So much has happened."

Reaching out, she traces her finger along the collar around her Sister's neck, "For one, I've learned the secret of this.....gift from Nemesis."

Considering Looloodi's question, she turns and looks back at the waters of the fountain, "I'm doing okay, I guess. I'm ashamed to admit I was thinking of doing something wicked...not without cause mind you....but, wicked none-the-less."

Looloodi: At the White City with Selima

Looloodi embraces the Desert Maiden in a loving hug, nuzzling her face in joy. "I know right? It's, like, been forever! I'm surprised that you are, like, just waiting around here, were you, like, expecting me?" Looloodi looks around her, delighted by the sight of her Sister's land. "Like, what a lovely home Sissy! I totally wouldn't expect anything less from you." A wide smile stays clear on Looloodi's face, the joy of being with her loved one evident.

Laughing musically, Looloodi lets go of Selima so they may talk easier. "You? Being Wicked? You are, like, so adorable and wonderful Sissy! Like, how could anything you do be wicked if it wasn't, like, totally deserved?" She takes A slightly graver look as she considers the statement her lovely Sister made, her hand mindlessly moving to stroke the collar on her neck. "This......this isn't, like, an apology for hurting my baby.....is it?"

Seeds in the Air: Over Katep

Many of the Verdant Seeds that the Beautious Bloom had spread from the Tree of Light, still found themselves aloft in the air, the wind spreading them far from the Isle of Ilianthos. While some have already taken purchase in the nearby Caldera, others fly to much further lands. Many fly towards the east, towards the unknown, others go towards the west, dropping across the First Land and waiting to sprout, a few making it beyond even its shores.

A few travel south, where a dozen suddenly drop just within sight of the great city of Katep. Together they sprout, a perfect circle of trees in an otherwise bare plain. As the fully grown Verdants step from their trees, they look around their new home, and are gladdened. Both for the gentle majesty their surroundings already own, and for the wonderfully blank canvas that they shall get to paint with their beauty.

Spoiler: AP Usage

Show

Started with 7/16 AP 1/1 PAP

Alter Land(1): Kyklos Omorfias
This perfect circle of large trees is the first home of Verdants on Catan. As such, it holds special significance to the Verdants. Being within the circle of trees, one can almost feel a deeper connection to Nature and Life in general. Each tree blooms a radically different blossom than its neighbors, and their fruits are considered a delicacy.[Verdant(Culture)]

Domains:
Nature(Plants)
Earth(Gems)
Life(Beauty)
Life(Rebirth)
Nature(Poison) 3/10
Light(Purity) 4/10
Verdant(Culture) 1/10

Ended with 6/16 AP 1/1 PAP

**Razade** · 2019-03-29, 09:00 AM (ISO 8601)

Derro Theology

With the coming of society, solid or mostly solid homes, with Noble Clans and an Emperor that sat at the lynchpin of the ancestor chiefs upheaval and change came to Derro Faith. The Noble Clans had a role to play, as the chiefs had in the past. Writers took to writing as they were wont to do and in time the many folk faiths of the various tribes blended, merged and something close to approaching even a semblance of holy scripture came to be. The Ur’Wen was written in three large tomes and each were enshrined in the Noble Clan’s houses. Members of the Noble Clans would pass copies of these books to those Warriors who sought the religious arts and these would lead the people in the many rituals, festivals and events described within.

The first tome, The Book of Ancestors, detailed the creation of the world and the skies above. It spoke of the Derro born from flame and winter’s cold. The Caracan who arose from the steppes born from wind and dust. Of the Mer, crafted by the waves from coral and fish. It spoke of the many gods of Wano. The Ur’Wen was far from a Monotheistic religion even now though a great number of the early gods of rivers and brooks and hills became mere spirits in a vast hierarchy of non-mortals. The first were the small gods, the aforementioned spirits of particular places. These needed no prayer for their homes were enough. The second were the Servant Gods. They ruled over more complex things like the winds and the rains. Of these, the Gods born from the Creator ranked.

The Sisters were chief among these Gods, known to rule over all the lesser gods as older siblings. There was Selima and Marah to be certain, the Gods of the Caracan and Mer who were said to arise from their people when the Derro were yet cold in their caverns and valleys. Janika and Loolodi who the Mer and Caracan venerated. The Derro knew little of these, no shrines were permitted made of the Sisters save for the towns at the borders of Caracan and Mer land. The Derro sought to offer familiar sights to their neighbors but saw little reason to offer more than the occasional offering to these Gods when the Mer and Caracan seemed to devote themselves to their Sisters.

Above these were the Ama-Hitorigami. These Gods were present at the dawn of time and gave birth to themselves and all things. The first was Ameno who spoke the world into creation and then departed. The second was the silence left by Ameno’s words who brought themselves into Creation. This was Myouken, the God of Darkness whose body was slain by the clear song who sought to drown the silence out. This God was Bunri who could not sustain itself for without silence there can be no true noise. Bunri and Myouken both fell dead and formed the world and from them came Kuninoto, The Bones of the World where no Derro had ever gone and then returned alive. The Bones of the World would be given offerings for the safe passage of the dead, for all who died would travel through Kuninoto if they were found unworthy. Steam that Greets the Morning and Shadow on Snow Peaks too were of this pantheon, the chief of chiefs venerated for forging the mighty country of Wano and their Noble House would join them in death.

Many smaller Gods were named as well. There was the Stag Lord who ruled over the Hunt and the many warriors of the Derro. There was the Spider Tinker who oversaw the many factories and workshops of the Derro. There was the Fox Queen who tempted, the Octopus King who held all beneath the waves and many more animal Gods. There was one who ruled over this court, the Banded Knight, a Tanuki Vagrant of large size who was said to hold court with all Vagrants and Vagabonds.

Thus the Derro’s religion moved from mere folk tales to something codified.

**mystic1110** · 2019-03-29, 10:01 AM (ISO 8601)

Spoiler: Previously

Show

Originally Posted by TheDarkDM

Nemesis

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

Show

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

Originally Posted by Razade

Hagfish Remade: The House of Scars and Wounds

The Fox watches, almost bored. He saw the Rat take form, the Green and so many others change. He changed on the regular, what more was one thing turning into another thing. The Gods could do this, ought to do this, he'd argue. With a clap the Fox stood even as the world spiraled away. "Take care though we shall likely never meet again. Sure enough, you've found the tool you were looking for but before you leave? I feel it best to illuminate you on one small thing." The world trembled like a soap bubble about to burst, the lights grew dim and the scent of fetid swamp and moss grew heavy.

"This was never your dream."

With a pop the light was gone. The world, black and blank and even with a new skin...or perhaps because of it...the cold sank in. The Witch was not alone in this dark pit however, something else was all about. Terrible and vast, the darkness moved as if some great serpent's coils shifted. A stone of black slid from the inky nothing and reflected back on a mirror's surface the Hagfish. Not her new form, not even her old form...mostly. Rot had taken her reflection, slime ran rank and rancid from blotchy scales. Fins were chewed to uselessness and the mirror's surface seemed thick with scum. The reflection was not alone either.

There stood Mamona with horns that shone in the murky light or cast it...it was hard to tell. Beside her stood imposing Nemesis, the King of Iron. Mighty he was in armor of molten metal. There so close floated a book bound by blood. Nasguine, the eternal Messenger. Yet more for the Sisters each were there as well, mighty Janika, swift Selima, Mara whose voice was like silk and Loolodi whose mighty roots dug into the darkness. Other figures stood behind, hazy and unclear. A serpent of chains, a magpie, a giant, all were harder to see but surely they were there.

They were there in the darkness too. For all their Divine Glow, rotten hands rose from the void to cling and clutch at Eniym. Mamona aged and frail, gravity a cruel mistress on her sagging form. The King of Iron's armor had cooled, encasing his mighty form in a prison of his own design. Janika lay beaten, bloody and all about her the fallen leaves of a once great tree was all that remained of Loolodi. Selima struck with mange, eyes blind and claws wild as they tore and grasped and with fetid waves Mara's hands spread fallen scales about in a heap. Their breath was ragged as they closed in, the presence...that horrible presence...pressed closer. None of these were gods, no more real than the Fox and the Rabbit and the Pig. But the presence was real and in a flash that battled back the darkness it was laid bare as the white of an eye blinked forth.

An iris swiveled onto Eniym even as this dream too began to fade, searching and seeking until finally it fell upon the fresh faced Witch in full. It contracted to a pinprick though all things relative the pupil was still as large as the Goddess. In that moment the presence magnified. Eniym surely saw it, the dreams of stone, but so too did the stone see her.

The dream ended. Eniym was once more within the Necropolis, a ruined battlement as dull rain drummed on dark stone. She was alone.

Originally Posted by Tychris1

Roosting about the oceanic life with voracious destructive power Enkidan savaged the coast of Karam-Kor with its intense hunger for days before finally growing bored and accidentally rolling away from the tide. Distanced from its food the disgusting conglomeration of gluttony and sloth tried to claw its way back but promptly gave up after three seconds of effort.

"How am I to rule if I must carry myself to and fro?" The Duke of Disgust thought to itself as it burbled and undulated in rhythm with its growling stomach "If I am part of this Shining Court I should have something fit to bear me." Pleased with the thought Enkidan began to claw its way back to Akkraul before promptly giving up after three seconds of effort. Forgetting its plan entirely the blob of dark mire and swampy refuse loitered about the outskirts of Akkraul, consuming any Troll, Moss, or other creature stupid or unlucky enough to get within arms reach of the growing mass of girth. Slowly it grew to such size that the creature could see the peaks of Akkraul and the workings of Nemesis in the distance clearly. Screeching and lazily barking at the Fire God, Nemesis was pestered by the incessant whining of Enkidan for a time that felt like an epoch and an instant before finally the Lethargic Lord was silenced by a gift, and all was right with the world. Forged upon the Anvil of Creation the glorious Palanquin depicted engraved Trolls, Ogres, and Giants in supplication along the carrying rods. A beautiful silk curtain draped the entry way where an ocean of papasan chairs awaited the feted god. A throng of Ogres hoisted the Progenitor's Palanquin, their wails of remorse evident to the world, and they carted the hulking beast from house to house in Akkraul as Enkidan bathed in the wonders of the world they had helped to create. A glorious civilization that would pamper their every need and fill their mouth with unending morsels. Or it would have if it didn't feel an irritating pull at the back of its mind. Slowly the pull went from mental to physical as Enkidan felt the Palanquin they sat upon floating up through the air. This wasn't particularly unusual since the Progenitor's Palanquin was an artifact of mighty divine will easily capable of moving of its own design (And in fact was intended to do so, Enkidan just often would forget and so having creatures physically tow it along saved them the mental energy of concentrating on floating the Progenitor's Palanquin). No what was odd about it was that Enkidan wasn't thinking about moving at all when suddenly they began to drift from the First World.

"You stupid useless Ogres, do something! Pull me down!" Enkidan roared as the slow (Both physically and mentally) Ogres realized what happened and began to desperately reach up and grab the rods that once weighed heavily upon their shoulders. Every time one of them slipped their grasp Enkidan would stoop its chunky neck to eat them. This process continued until only one Ogre remained who, despite their subraces renowned ignorance, was still sharper than most Goblins or other lower life forms thanks to Enkidan's own ironic blessing and astutely placed self preservation over continued servitude to a God being dragged away by an unknown power. Glutted upon the flesh of countless ogres subservient to them, Enkidan's body had reached a critical mass too great for the First World to handle, and parts of it began to evaporate then get sucked into a portal that lead to the familiar unknown. "Traitorous Worm! I gave you life and I shall take it! Aid your master at once! GET BACK HERE!" Enkidan snapped and hissed and roared but made no motion to move or resist the pulling of its own accord, rather it just kept pushing its mouth forward in a desperate bid to eat the offending Ogre, and in light of the Ogre's inevitable escape it desperately tried to consume anything and everything around it. Earth, homes, air, and more was absorbed into the creatures rapidly expanding mass until only its head was visible as all else was siphoned off through this portal that seemed far too small for Enkidan to fit through. The portal stopped abruptly at Enkidan's throat, the divine laws of the First World finding trouble with a creature of such mass, and it floated in the air awkwardly for a brief moment as Giants abound stared on at the spectacle in awe. Desperately wriggling its neck about the God of the Shining Court finally let loose a high pitch ree as the world began its process of kicking them out with suddenly renewed vigor and most of Enkidan's head disappeared within the portal.

"Just one more... BITE!" It growled as its disgusting mouth was the last thing to require entrance through the portal and provided it the most resistance. A loud slicing noise was heard throughout Akkraul as the portal seemed to spark and give out before exploding violently and tearing the god's mouth free from its face shunting the rest of Enkidan painfully from the first world. Plopping onto the floor unceremoniously the mouth twitched and bubbled before a dark smog cloud formed overhead from where the portal previously worked its magic and a black bolt of flame jutted down to consume it entirely. Rising from the fires was a wing that blotted the light of Akkraul's flame, then another wing that blotted the light of Looloodi, and finally a head emerged from the smoke that could swallow a giant whole. A massive black quadrupedal creature of scales, thews, wings, and horns emerged from the site of Enkidan's departure and its eyes burned with the golden glow of the Shining Court. A black dragon of immense size, a small continent of power, and an aura of majesty that with it brought instant recognition to all the Giants looking upon this creature floating above their city.

"I am Derian Ka! Maw of Enkidan! Let my birth mark a glorious age for your people! Mark it down upon every stone, stab, and ingot you possess for it shall be known throughout time! Bring me food and treasure for like my Mother I HUNGER and RULE." The titanic Dragon announced its presence for all of Akkraul to know before flying to the perch of Nemesis's mountain and roosting precariously on its edge to oversee its new home.

Elsewhere in the universe Enkidan felt themselves plummeting for a time long enough that the God grew bored and fell asleep. It was a slumber so deep that the God did not even notice when its glorious Palanquin crashed into one of Mamona's intricately managed gardens and splattered a devil in the process. Shrouded behind silken cover the stupid God slumbered and snored loudly.

Spoiler: AP Expenditure

Show

4 AP Gifted to Dark to use his Forge of Creation Charge and create the Progenitor's Palanquin Greater Utility Artifact (Create Avatar): A glorious palanquin of silver, gold, and black iron this magical tool of royal power adjusts itself to accommodate the taste and size of any who sit within it. A great curling dragon sitting upon a horde of glittering gold, food, and artwork acts as the roof of the Palanquin, its stretched out awnings a silken tapestry venerating the wonders of whoever occupies it, and reflecting their will and history upon its artful yet ever shifting design. A railing of fine marble around the inner sanctum keeps Enkidan from accidentally falling out when they slumber and also acts as a pen to contain their steadily engorging body. Its poles of forged iron are mostly for show as the Palanquin is fully capable of flying around on its own at the will of its master and floating at ease when not (A fact that Enkidan often forgets or remembers then plays off as a great concentration of will). The Palanquin conjures anything that the Degenerate God desires as it attempts to mirror and please its host automatically, so great is its mirroring that it even possesses the power to create mighty facsimile's of Enkidan: Dragons, the Spawn of Lethargy, Hunger, and destructive greedy waste.

Sloth (Command) Domain Acquired! Enkidan ascends!

3 AP (Progenitor's Palanquin Charge) Create Avatar Derian Ka; The Maw of Enkidan: The literal mouth of Enkidan sliced off in the process of its shunting from the First World, the Dragon Avatar regards Enkidan as Mother and Father and possesses the same crafty thieving mind, hateful heart, lazy lounging spirit, and endless hunger for more.

3/10 AP Sloth (Dragons).

0 AP (The Shining Crown Charge) Curse: The Mer suffer from the same lethargy that afflicts the Rakshasa, projects abandoned at random, and statues or buildings left to ruin and disrepair. They rely ever more on the power their trade and influence can provide, fearful that the Rakshasa will move on them if they personally act or are seen by the algae spawned Tiger monstrosities, and grow idle in hiring or bribing others to work for them.

1 PAP Create Mundane Concept History: Derian Ka's arrival to Akkraul sparks great interest and wonder amongst Giant kind who take to marking specific days and nights of the years in a historical context to venerate or look back upon. Many Giants have a sense of pride in regards to their ancestry or their past deeds and proudly extol their history tablets and stories to all who would listen. The Giants never forgive and never forget.

1/10 PAP to Order Sphere for Shining Court.

0 AP and PAP Remaining.

Originally Posted by TheDarkDM

Nemesis

Fresh from his exertions to furnish Enkidan with a fitting seat, Nemesis watched with consternation as the corpulent divinity made his tour of Akkraul. As a member of the Shining Court, the devourer served his purpose in the natural order, but to watch it unfold with such joyful abandon offended Nemesis's craftsmanship. He felt himself reaching for Urad, that he might undo the damage of Enkidan's debauch, only to pause as the younger god was overcome. The portal above Akkraul wrought greater destruction still, if only in the desperation it roused in its prey. Volcanic rock shattered under Nemesis's clenched fist, and his great hammer leapt to answer his growing fury. He raised it above his head even as Enkidan's final scream echoed into terrible life, but before he decided between salvation or damnation a curious sensation stole over the iron god. A distance he had never known slithered into life, a curtain drawn across the world clear as glass yet unbreakable as his own will. He looked down to the fiery heart of Karam-Kor, only to see it drop away into darkness. Where once Creation had opened before him to an infinite horizon, Nemesis found himself alone in nothingness.

It was a sensation without sensation. Iron skin long accustomed to the feckless cold of mortal air now strained for any touch. Eyes that had opened and brought light and life to darkness blinked back a colorless haze. His grip tightened on Urad, and the sound broke through utter silence like a scream in the night. The emptiness roiled in stillborn patterns that slid from memory, leaving eddies in the mind that threatened to siphon all into madness and oblivion. But for all the endless void that awaited without, within his chest Nemesis could still feel the endless potency of a god. He clutched hard to that light, an anchor in the twisting sea, and so returned to himself. He was a Lord of Creation, and though the earth had been his womb he had no more need of it than a fish had need of land. He raised up a hand, and from his palm bloomed light. With light, came darkness, a shadow stretching from Nemesis's feet into eternity. Nemesis smiled, and the lines of his shadow exploded into a million million tendrils of black substance. Foundations took shape, walls, ceilings, a thousand rooms stretching a thousand miles in a thousand levels. Finally the emptiness was no more, replaced by a darkness in which the light of Nemesis was all and evermore.

The surface of Nemesis's new demesne rumbled in response to its completion, permanence seemingly met with protestation as the floor before him cracked and splintered. But it was not the consuming grey that emerged from the bulging wound - the Anvil of Creation had crossed the ocean between worlds to rejoin its maker, and when it emerged the ground beneath it gleamed smooth and whole once more. Nemesis ran a gentle hand over its etched and flawless plane, breathing low and deeply of the air that flowed newborn though his halls. He tapped Urad once against the Anvil, summoning a tone pure and clean and fragile. The echo bounced through empty galleries, slowly fading into nothingness, and when the last trace of it had vanished he began to hum. A low and wordless melody thrummed through his body, and the first strike of hammer against anvil was the first murmur of a heartbeat. Light flashed through the surrounding rooms, only for the shadowstuff to drink it and be transformed. The heartbeat continued, hammer strokes keeping time to Nemesis's soul-borne song, and with every impact the echoes built upon each other. Harmonies formed as patterns in the surrounding walls, black ephemera transfigured to gleaming ethereal metal. Wells of liquid fire rose up in the depths, pumping light and heat through the whole of Nemesis's creation, and in response windows of polished glass emerged to catch the radiance. Workshops and armories beyond count were joined by festhalls and antechambers, wide gardens and secret libraries, while at the peak where Nemesis stood a throne took shape.

Spoiler: AP

Show

Free AP = 7
Spent AP = 30

4 AP - Weave Plane, The Adamant Palace (Nobility (Sovereignty))

Domain Progress:
Craft (Metalworking) - 10/10 Complete
Life (Giants) - 10/10 Complete
Corruption (Ambition) - 10/10 Complete
Nobility (Sovereignty) - 4/10

The Witch on the Road

She had fled dream and the slow grasp of the Necropolis. It was her nature to move slowly, but it was not in her nature to stop. And fear had pervaded her. The fear that relationships were meaningless that the connections that tie us to others, good or bad, would one day too erode and what keeps us connected would let one fall into the necropolis of the void.

And so the Waxen Witch swam . . . no, she was swimming no longer, nor did she fly. She walked up from the Necropolis and through and found herself on a long Iron Road. She looked back, a deadly sin for those escaping the chthonic depths and only saw more of the Iron Road behind her. The dream was behind her but yet within her. What did she learn? She wasn't sure. She looked at her fins . . . no - her hands, with their porcelain-white fingers. She made them move, over her stainless dress, that trailed her for yards, the remnant of her slime. It was made of silk which is an insects slime made art.

Regardless, she now looked ahead determined to . . . she was determined not to let things fall into Dream. Their needed to be stronger connections, stronger lovers, stronger hates. And so she began to walk the Iron Road to Karam-Kor, practicing stepping with her newly formed feet.

She walked until her path was blocked by two giants. One Female and One Male. They stood at the entrance of the Iron Road at Karam-Kor. One looked outwards, guarding it against any who would venture forth to the Wounded Mountain without the approval of their Lords, and the other looked inward towards the Wounded Mountain, guarding it against any would-be invaders. Until now, there never were. The inward-looking guard yelled for the Waxen Witch to halt, and the other, startled turned around as well, brandishing his weapon.

She looked at these large creatures that loomed over her and saw the waves of Nemesis's power wash out from them. She recalled her meeting with the God. She ruminated on her lessons with the Hare and the Fox. Words and Lies, Actions . . . and she thought of the necropolis and its curdling descent into entropy. She thought of Strings holding everything up and over this chasm. Green and Red, anything but Grey. She spoke like music, at once beautiful and insidious in how it carried itself into one's ears.

Take me to your Lord.

**Draken** · 2019-03-29, 10:26 AM (ISO 8601)

Originally Posted by RolandDeschain

Iseu - Enterprise

It struck him that he was a foreigner in a strange land, kneeling over a dead body in a dark alley, and when it did Iseu responded as anyone would. He panicked. He stuffed the white mask inside his shirt, and darted out into the street with no clear direction as to where he was or where he was going. He tried to steady his breathing and remain calm, but his step was too quick and his mannerisms much to nervous....he was attracting people's attention with his behavior. He ducked down a narrow side street, then moved deeper into the town. Pushing through vendors in merchants in an open plaza, then up a wide set of stairs. Without really knowing how, he found himself in The Fortress, the central temple of Enterprise. He passed through a dark colonnade and emerged into an open area filled with statues depicting a number of figures he recognized.

He knew Mamona on site as well as the Sisters - Selima, Marah, Tafeita, Looloodi, and Janika. There were others, though, that were foreign to him, as well as two empty pedestals. The statues were arranged in a large circle around him, a circular pool lay before him, and the doorway he had stumbled through lay behind him. For long moments he stood stock still, catching his breath and taking in the rather somber and foreboding air of the place.

It was quiet for awhile, allowing Iseu to rest and recover his breath. Meanwhile, Vanderbilt watched. When the young cat seemed well enough, it spoke with a voice like a deep chorus coming from everywhere.

"You look like you ran quite fast, boy. Were you eager to come here or, did something happen out in the streets?"

Originally Posted by neriractor

Ramona Bittermoss: Dead

Ramona found the calm speech reassuring, and picked up her dagger with a nod, no longer concerned about such petty things as what material her body was made us.

She took in the sights with a curiosity best reserved for the suicidaly feline, running around not too far from her mostly wary guide, and trying to drag him along to inspect some of the most interesting bits.

The marvel did not stop when they found the beaten giant, And she listened intently to the tale of a land she wouldn't have dreamed of... And that of a gate, sounded simple enough, why by that definition she carried one every couple of months. Eventually she continued, likely dragged along by they who were wiser after her far too many attempt to get the giant to come with or to realize that they were gonna be fine, mountains couldn't be too far for one with such mighty step...

She ignored scarab and snake alike as they went, the only use for the beasts being to blatantly signal her lack of a want for food right now.

And of the battered door, the greenskins surprised Ramona and may have gotten a chance were she alone...

Her dagger still stained with ash and happy as one who couldn't stare into the abyss no matter how strongly it stared at her, she grabbed the paw of the Chief with slightly more trust than deference, and with a glint in her eye (had she any) asked Steam That Greets The Morning to come inspect some ruins of a most funny tubular construction before they continued onward, wherever that may be.

Originally Posted by Razade

Steam that Greets the Morning, Ramona Bittermoss: Dead

The going was difficult, Steam that Greets the Morning was in hell after all, but they weren't alone. This made them happier, knowing that another warrior was there with them. Misery in spades was all around them, but with two people it helped to average it out. It also kept them from their more feral and furious impulses, knowing they had someone else that they needed to protect. Not, of course, because Ramona needed protecting but because a second person to swing a weapon around was more valuable than not having one of those.

So it was with silence Steam that Greets the Morning takes much of the ensuing nightmares. Snakes and scarabs, as unslightly as they might be, were common enough in the Derro lands. The muck and mire was what made it all so much worse. They couldn't do anything about the things that hounded them. The giant was left, a valuable ally they might have made but they were too far gone. Ramona's attempts would only delay them or worse, trap them alongside the giant. Surely there were other giants who might want to get free of this wretched place they'd offered as they dragged the Hafling away.

The goblins, strange things, were much easier to deal with. With blade and fist, Steam was quick to defend their accomplice and a hasty retreat was made. If the Gateway was worth fighting for, there wouldn't be anyone to fight over it. The goblin dead would be gone and they'd be free to use it. That passageway was a dead end. Even if they couldn't die again, and maybe they could, it wasn't worth fighting over just to get stuck.

It would have to be the ruins. They took point behind Ramona, whatever came, they'd conquer it they'd said. They had to get home. There was no other outcome acceptable to a warrior.

What, pray tell, is a dragon? In most languages around the world, the equivalent word would be a specific term for a saurian vagabond. A large, vicious monster that most certainly would never wear clothes.

So who might have made a building shaped like some manner of enormous gauntlet for a lizard's pawn? Nobody, that is likely. Nobody built Necropolis. The glove-building is covered in old moss and some broken walls tell that it was once part of a larger structure, although the continental shelf... ends... a few meters behind it, falling off into a steep cliff and the great darkness beyond.

Amid the gardens of moss and various other unusual and colorful plants, next to a covered table full of transparent puts and jars and thin tubes full of smoke and liquid is a tall, feminine form of that same transparency, filled with a thin smog of her own, what clothing she wears serving more as holster for metallic tools than anything.

"Guests! I have not have had guests in forever! You look almost like a gnome and a genasi, but somehow different, I can't tell how... Oh well."

The woman hovers closer to the two.

"Is there something you need? Oh, could I offer you some coffee?"

Originally Posted by Toxic Mind

There is a raised eyebrow-ridge at the assertion that Giants were stronger than Mer. Physical strength was meaningless when one could be brought low by poison or spell. Still, it was not in Adira's nature to argue pedantry, when there were greater stakes in the game. "So why do you remain, when your moss-kin have gone? Is there something you wish from the Mer?"

"Why, queen Adira, this is my home. And the moss is not gone. Give it a decade or two and it will grow back in. But worry not, it will grow only as fast as grass then. Your soldiers will die of boredom if you send them to face it."

"But yes, I suppose I do want something from the mer. All of my kind want something from the living. We want to be there when your lives flicker, so we can take for our own what is left after the empyrean gods have had their due. But quid pro quo, we are more than willing to pay in advance with our knowledge and let you bloom to your limits before we take our payment."

"I myself am fond of the arts. I cannot weave sorcery into my voice as you do, but you will find few orchestras of my knowledge and skill anywhere in the world."

**Nefarion Xid** · 2019-03-29, 02:04 PM (ISO 8601)

Chalice

Mamona cringed when the fat hulk began devouring her servants. The devorim themselves were devoid of emotion, spare for an inborn sense of pride for their role as caretakers of the realm. Their bodies were temporary expressions of the great hive's will. Utterly lacking in individualism or any sense of mortality, the bee-shaped creatures continued their pointless assault until their queen waved them off. Some of them remained, ready with their swords as if they could defend Mamona, but the rest offered slight shrugs and returned to their duties elsewhere in the gardens.

Folding her arms beneath her bust, Mamona walked the perimeter of the inexplicable palanquin, taking care to step around what violet irises were unhurt. Though she had departed Karam-Kor long before the rise of trolls and ogres, her vigilant zophim had imparted their visions and she knew the grotesque shape of Enkidan's supplicants, shown here in relief. She thought first to cast the corpulent creature out of her realm. Its bloated form offended her. Her hands went unbidden to her own curves, and then the far less prodigious swell of her stomach -- fecund, but quite moderate by comparison. For the first time in her life she felt a tiny pang of modesty. It would offend her less if he were thrown into a prison beneath her world. Preferable, she decided, but perhaps not within her power to enforce. The monstrous thing was a god and equaled her own power. Somehow.

"It is customary to bring gifts," she began is a calm voice, nearing what she hoped was the creature's head. "You seem to have fallen from the mortal sphere, Devourer. You are now in the paradise realm of Chalice and shall be received with milk and honey and wine in glorious abundance. But it is customary to bring gifts..."

**RolandDeschain** · 2019-03-29, 07:23 PM (ISO 8601)

Turu - Alamut

The training was difficult for him so he could only imagine how it must have been for those.....less gifted. In truth, the physical test were mostly demanding because of the psychological stress of literally trying to be in three places at once. He learned how to cordon off parts of his consciousness to great affect. He focused purely on mastery of the Shadow Arts and had learned early on that his lich masters would suffer no fools nor weaknesses. The art of disguise was nearly worthless to him, and as such his focus would drift, often resulting in harsh punishments. He learned to accept without complaint the rigid discipline by coming to realize that if he mastered the methods of disguise he would be forever able to detect them in others. More than one of his fellow students fell victim to the very poisons they were learning, and much to his dismay he discovered that his unique compost form did not render him immune to all poisons. There were a number that seemed particularly toxic to certain biological types...the fumes of the ground up deathshead mushrooms would make him horribly ill for days at a time; suffering from nearly paralyzing headaches.

Weapons training and stealth were the areas that fascinating him the most. To his surprise he discovered that his mongoose brethren surpassed him in nearly every way when it came to stealth and subtly. Try as he might, he could never maintain the level of focus to keep his three distinct bodies hidden. Being the first detected nearly every time, lead him to adapt to the weapons training quickly....he would often find himself(ves) surrounded and attacked on all sides. Mastery of the quarterstaff have proven most helpful and was something he took to naturally. His skill was unparalleled among his peers, and he could best all but the Masters and Liches IF he was allowed to focus purely on his true self and not maintain focus elsewhere.. The dagger and chain proved more difficult however, and to his chagrin none of his mongooses personas stood at the head of their respective classes due to his divided concentration. Perhaps that was for the best though, he did not want to stand out.

At the end of his first year, the number of mongoose initiates had dropped to just fourteen. When it came time for the sparring and choosing by the older students, it was before all - singular matches against older students with masters, liches, and pupils in attendance. No split consciousness on this day. He excelled, and as planned. Each of his three selves was chosen - one for each style, Centipede, Antlion, and Wasp. His challenge now was to live as three, completely separated from himself. The classes did not sleep, eat, study, nor spar together. He was excited and terrified all at once. Gathering his things he did not notice the ancient lich that had come to stand directly before him, and as he straighten, he startled...nearly toppling over backwards. He couldn't help it, his other selves flinched, one near the door, and one sitting lotus-style against the far wall.

The croaking voice that spoke through rotting vocal chords said only, "I see you Turu." Had he a heart, it would have been pounding in his chest, as he watched the Shadow Art Lich glide silently away.

Selima and Looloodi - Zerzura; Resplendent Realms

Selima's melancholy lifted entirely at Looloodi's company, she possessed an effervescent quality that was infectious. "Loo, I...I find I cannot return to the First World, and am just now realizing the extent to which it mattered to me. I fear I took the place of my birth for granted....that I did not do enough to prevent the evils and depredations of some of the mortals."

Strolling through the desert gardens, under the enormous glass dome of the Oasis Temple with her Sister, "I was considering a curse upon....oh, enough of that. I'm so happy you're here. I've things to share with you. I visited Mamona in her realm of excess, and found her incredibly charming in her way. She's a confidence and libertine manner that is most disarming. We spoke of her brother and this collar he placed around your throat. Her account of what happened in Karam-Kor tells of warning her brother not to harm you, and that binding you to his will would be a mistake, but he did. You see, that's the purpose of the 'gift' you wear. It seems they quarreled, and she left Karam-Kor immediately after, which is why neither myself nor the others encountered her there."

She stopped and gazed thoughtfully into Looloodi's eyes, "She mentioned one other thing. Something I found...intriguing. It seems that Nemesis is predisposed to see everything as his for the taking, and having conquered something he is likely to become highly possessive of it. Harsh though this may sound, it could be advantageous. If he views YOU as one such conquest, then you indeed would be his prize....I daresay he might even prove to most protective of something he prizes. Think upon that; there may be something there that we can swing to our purpose."

The Desert Maiden began to walk again. She was quiet and contemplative as she listened to her Sister. Leading Looloodi deeper into the Oasis Temple, she grasped Loo's hand and strayed from the path, plunging through ferns and palm fronds. After a brief trek through the groomed and well-tended garden flora, they came to a place of wild growth. Lush grasses and blossoming wildflowers lay before them on a small hillock. A one room stone house with thatched roof stood atop the hill. Silently Selima pushed on, climbing the cobble stairs to the door of the humble abode. Here she paused, turned to her Sister and spoke in somber tones, "I've something to show you that might explain my lingering melancholy."

Inside the tiny building proved as humble as the outside, an earthen floor, a simple wood-frame farm table, and large stone hearth in which a crackling fire permanently burned...yet the room was pleasantly cool. Two windows on opposite sides of the room stood open, their wooden shutters flung wide against the stones. Birds hopped, preened, and sang upon the sill. A rough-sawed timber cupboard stood upon one wall, covered in fruits, vegetables, implements, and spices as if someone had been interrupted in mid-preparation of a welcoming meal. A stew-pot hung over the fire. A straight back chair sat below the pegs and hooks next to the door. The ambiance was warm and welcoming, but the figure resting upon the farmhouse table was all that would matter to Looloodi. The long and a creamy orange fur was immediately recognizable, as were the indeterminate features...part rabbit, part fox, part cat, and many others.

Placing her hand on Loo's shoulder, there's a distinct catch in Selima's throat, "It's Taf...she won't wake up."

Spoiler: AP Accounting

Show

Beginning AP = 6AP +1PAP +1Bonus AP
Create Major Utility Artifact[(Selima 1PAP + 1AP)+(Janika 1PAP): Hearthhome - the final resting place of Tafeita(hopefully NOT by the way, I would much prefer Anubis Dread returns). Memorial to their lost Sister, Hearthome is a Utility Artifact that discounts crafting Major Artifacts. This action can be completed by the remaining Sisters - Looloodi, Janika, and Marah if they so choose, otherwise Selima will finish. Deja Who instructed me to use Janika's weekly PAP in the OOC, so that leaves two AP remaining needed to complete the action.

These actions could contribute to a Knowledge Sphere or perhaps Artifice Sphere....I leave that to others to decided.

Remaining AP = 6AP+1PAP +1BAP - 1PAP -1BAP = 6AP

**ChaoticHarmony** · 2019-03-29, 08:23 PM (ISO 8601)

Spoiler: Previously

Show

Selima and Looloodi - Zerzura; Resplendent Realms

Selima's melancholy lifted entirely at Looloodi's company, she possessed an effervescent quality that was infectious. "Loo, I...I find I cannot return to the First World, and am just now realizing the extent to which it mattered to me. I fear I took the place of my birth for granted....that I did not do enough to prevent the evils and depredations of some of the mortals."

Strolling through the desert gardens, under the enormous glass dome of the Oasis Temple with her Sister, "I was considering a curse upon....oh, enough of that. I'm so happy you're here. I've things to share with you. I visited Mamona in her realm of excess, and found her incredibly charming in her way. She's a confidence and libertine manner that is most disarming. We spoke of her brother and this collar he placed around your throat. Her account of what happened in Karam-Kor tells of warning her brother not to harm you, and that binding you to his will would be a mistake, but he did. You see, that's the purpose of the 'gift' you wear. It seems they quarreled, and she left Karam-Kor immediately after, which is why neither myself nor the others encountered her there."

She stopped and gazed thoughtfully into Looloodi's eyes, "She mentioned one other thing. Something I found...intriguing. It seems that Nemesis is predisposed to see everything as his for the taking, and having conquered something he is likely to become highly possessive of it. Harsh though this may sound, it could be advantageous. If he views YOU as one such conquest, then you indeed would be his prize....I daresay he might even prove to most protective of something he prizes. Think upon that; there may be something there that we can swing to our purpose."

The Desert Maiden began to walk again. She was quiet and contemplative as she listened to her Sister. Leading Looloodi deeper into the Oasis Temple, she grasped Loo's hand and strayed from the path, plunging through ferns and palm fronds. After a brief trek through the groomed and well-tended garden flora, they came to a place of wild growth. Lush grasses and blossoming wildflowers lay before them on a small hillock. A one room stone house with thatched roof stood atop the hill. Silently Selima pushed on, climbing the cobble stairs to the door of the humble abode. Here she paused, turned to her Sister and spoke in somber tones, "I've something to show you that might explain my lingering melancholy."

Inside the tiny building proved as humble as the outside, an earthen floor, a simple wood-frame farm table, and large stone hearth in which a crackling fire permanently burned...yet the room was pleasantly cool. Two windows on opposite sides of the room stood open, their wooden shutters flung wide against the stones. Birds hopped, preened, and sang upon the sill. A rough-sawed timber cupboard stood upon one wall, covered in fruits, vegetables, implements, and spices as if someone had been interrupted in mid-preparation of a welcoming meal. A stew-pot hung over the fire. A straight back chair sat below the pegs and hooks next to the door. The ambiance was warm and welcoming, but the figure resting upon the farmhouse table was all that would matter to Looloodi. The long and a creamy orange fur was immediately recognizable, as were the indeterminate features...part rabbit, part fox, part cat, and many others.

Placing her hand on Loo's shoulder, there's a distinct catch in Selima's throat, "It's Taf...she won't wake up."

Looloodi follows the most mysterious of her Sisters, her eyes darting all around to take in the splendor of Selima's Oasis. "You, like, can't go back to the mortals? Like, why not? Maybe you need to, like, make a new body? I totally had to do that when I was born, otherwise I would have, like, been completely stuck on that Isle, and would, like, have never met you that day in Sissy's Caldera. While Beauty is ALWAYS important, sometimes you, like, need something a little more practical, you know?"

As the two Goddesses continue on their journey through the Realm, Looloodi lights up in excitement when Selima mentions the Lustful Maiden. "You met Mamona? Like, isn't she just wonderful? I'm like, totally happy that she is doing well! You just HAVE to take me to see her sometime Sissy! PLEEEEEEEEEEAAAAASE?"

Looloodi's mood suddenly drops when she learns the truth about her necklace. "So that's all I am.....a treasured prize to be won? When Selima gazes into Looloodi's multicolored eyes, she may easily see a concerning flash of purple crossing them, reflected in the sudden tone in her voice. "This necklace means nothing.......he may have claimed my body, and may one day shape it to his desires....but a tree cares not how ones breaks its branches........as long as it lives, it shall continue to grow beyond any confinement. If he dares try to claim me, he shall find HIMSELF the slave to maintain his dominance. Only in death will I submit......." And just like that, Looloodi's bright smile returns. With a loving kiss on the Desert Maiden's forehead, Looloodi asks excitedly "Will you, like, PLEASE show me more? Everyone has, like, worked so hard on our Plane, I want to be able to, like, help with it too!"

"OH! This part looks just like Sissy Tafeita's Caldera! It's so pretty!" exclaims the Goddess of The Tree when Selima leads her to the jungle. Her excitement dwindles once again when she senses the depressed emotion Selima seems to be feeling. "What's wrong Sissy?" "I've something to show you that might explain my lingering melancholy."

Inside the tiny building proved as humble as the outside, an earthen floor, a simple wood-frame farm table, and large stone hearth in which a crackling fire permanently burned...yet the room was pleasantly cool. Two windows on opposite sides of the room stood open, their wooden shutters flung wide against the stones. Birds hopped, preened, and sang upon the sill. A rough-sawed timber cupboard stood upon one wall, covered in fruits, vegetables, implements, and spices as if someone had been interrupted in mid-preparation of a welcoming meal. A stew-pot hung over the fire. A straight back chair sat below the pegs and hooks next to the door. The ambiance was warm and welcoming, but the figure resting upon the farmhouse table was all that Looloodi could focus on. The long and a creamy orange fur was immediately recognizable, as were the indeterminate features...part rabbit, part fox, part cat, and many others.

Placing her hand on Loo's shoulder, there's a distinct catch in Selima's throat, "It's Taf...she won't wake up." Tears well up in Looloodi's eyes as she stares wordlessly at the unmoving form of her First and Favorite Sister.

Spoiler: AP Usage

Show

Started with 6/16 AP 1/1 PAP

Create Major Utility Artifact(Create Major Artifact)(Selima 1PAP + 1AP)+(Janika 1PAP)+(Looloodi 1 PAP): Hearthhome
This simple stone shack within the Resplendant Realms (maybe) is the final resting place of the Sororitas Goddess, Tafeita. Her warmth, kindheartedness, and protectiveness fills the entire room, making it feel like a true home. While she (may) has passed, Tafeita's Godly Spirit remains in this room, to comfort her Sisters in times of distress and to help provide guidance in making tools they will need to live on.

My vote is to use this for either Knowledge or Elements Sphere

Ended with 6/16 AP 0/1 PAP

**neriractor** · 2019-03-29, 09:01 PM (ISO 8601)

Ramona Bittermoss: Dead

Spoiler: previously

Show

[QUOTE=Draken;23809506]
What, pray tell, is a dragon? In most languages around the world, the equivalent word would be a specific term for a saurian vagabond. A large, vicious monster that most certainly would never wear clothes.

So who might have made a building shaped like some manner of enormous gauntlet for a lizard's pawn? Nobody, that is likely. Nobody built Necropolis. The glove-building is covered in old moss and some broken walls tell that it was once part of a larger structure, although the continental shelf... ends... a few meters behind it, falling off into a steep cliff and the great darkness beyond.

Amid the gardens of moss and various other unusual and colorful plants, next to a covered table full of transparent puts and jars and thin tubes full of smoke and liquid is a tall, feminine form of that same transparency, filled with a thin smog of her own, what clothing she wears serving more as holster for metallic tools than anything.

"Guests! I have not have had guests in forever! You look almost like a gnome and a genasi, but somehow different, I can't tell how... Oh well."

The woman hovers closer to the two.

"Is there something you need? Oh, could I offer you some coffee?"

The glove prodded another inquisitive look at her own limbs, they were a little less see through, whatever consolation that may be. She stood unaware that it was made for a dragon or that such a thing now existed in a world she may not see until it rotted, her eyes only vacillating to look at her companion and the strange colorful garden.

It was so that Ramona was startled by a woman that she already knew was there, she stammered a few words of question without answer: "Gnome? Genasi? What?

Were there really so many things in the world? Were genasi a name for goblins or kobolds? She needed to know how offended to be.

She didn't really get time to feel before she turned to kindness for the given hospitality "Sure, thanks" she didn't really wonder what coffee was as she waited for the brew, turning to Steam That Greets the Morning with a whisper and a giggle while she poured it. "tallest halfling I have seen"

**GSisco** · 2019-03-29, 09:21 PM (ISO 8601)

The Lost Pages of Nasigune

Most of Nasigune sat, contemplating escape from,the Necropolis. The Index of Creation was safe with Reaper-Of-Souls. Many pages however were lost. They are caught under tables or drifting down hallways or sitting motionless in pieces throughout the other planes. Perhaps someone will find them. Perhaps they will drift forever. Nasigune, focusing on them, hoped someone would return them to her and then take her from this dark place with the ambling corpses. There was no glory or power to be had in the Necropolis.

Reaper-Of-Souls

The blasphemous orcs, in an attempt to hide their shame, made their way out of the city and into the forest. There they were met by Reaper-Of-Souls. "Today has been a great loss for both of us. You have been shamed and banished for claiming power that was not yours. I however lost my god as I gained the power you sought. You must hate the gods." Laughs-Without-Mirth, hesitant at first, tenses at this last bit before nodding. So Reaper-Of-Souls continues. "But the gods are not long for this world. Once They are gone, it shall be only the powerful left to rule. If you can put aside your pride, I can give you redemption." With that Reaper-Of-Souls turned his back and made his way towards the first dungeon. Most of them would follow, maybe even all of them.

Eats-Rocks-For-Power: The Great Goblin City, The Caldera

Eats-Rocks-For-Power had his mission. Returning to the Goblin city, he held onto the two items Reaper-Of-Souls had given him. In one hand was the chalice, the lord had brought to demonstrate his power. The second his lord had made for him. It was a feather that came to an impossible point. his lord told him that it would give him the power to shape the earth. The goblins were celebrating their victory over the attackers so none of them noticed the vampire sneak through their midst and into the heart of the city.

There he took the feather and pierced his finger. Touching the feather to the ground, the earth began to shift and shape. With a smile, he entered his new Dungeon and sealed the entrance. He was the first of the Dungeon Lords.

Spoiler: AP

Show

Starting AP: 8
Create Minor Artifact: Cartographer's Quill: Alter Land 2AP+Index of Creation Charge. A blood fuelled quill created with the intent to rewrite the map. - Pride (Redemption) 2/10

Create Organization: Dungeon Born: Those who have tied thier lives to the success and defense of dungeons, led by the Dungeon Lords. Their goal is to challenge mortals to make them stronger and grant them deals and power in exchange. The stronger mortals are, the greater things will be fore all. - Pride (Redemption) 3/10

Narzulbur Dungeon- Charge of Cartographer's Quil: A sprawling underground Dungeon beneath the goblin city, placed as a training/challenging ground for the goblins that dwell above.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Posting Permissions