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

[Deja Who?]

Janika and the Meeting of Gods

“No? Scared. I don’t blame you.” The jolly green giant replied with a toothy grin. “That is just what losers say. That someone strong should stand by and let those whom are weak just be themselves. You should be strong enough to defend what needs defending. Words will fail you but strength never will. If you knew you could win you would say striking first in the sensible thing to do.”

“I took a convenient shortcut but that is because I am strong enough that I can! Taking this place was a choice of convenience too.” She snorted as she continued to listen, “Stronger than my goblins? Yeah right! I’d love to see that! My goblinoids are just playing around honestly. Just having some fun. They play rough.”

“You can call me Janika the Neverfail.”

She looked from Tafeita to the other gods here, the new ones, Caerox and Selima.

“You are all against me? You must stand together because you all are garbage. But you are my siblings. If you are no good in a fight, how about a race? You look a little fast. Maybe if you beat me I let you have this place. A little competition for it is healthy, among us and the mortals. Admit it. You never would have advanced your kobolds without me.”

[Anubis Dread]

Spoiler

Show

Janika and the Meeting of Gods

“No? Scared. I don’t blame you.” The jolly green giant replied with a toothy grin. “That is just what losers say. That someone strong should stand by and let those whom are weak just be themselves. You should be strong enough to defend what needs defending. Words will fail you but strength never will. If you knew you could win you would say striking first in the sensible thing to do.”

“I took a convenient shortcut but that is because I am strong enough that I can! Taking this place was a choice of convenience too.” She snorted as she continued to listen, “Stronger than my goblins? Yeah right! I’d love to see that! My goblinoids are just playing around honestly. Just having some fun. They play rough.”

“You can call me Janika the Neverfail.”

She looked from Tafeita to the other gods here, the new ones, Caerox and Selima.

“You are all against me? You must stand together because you all are garbage. But you are my siblings. If you are no good in a fight, how about a race? You look a little fast. Maybe if you beat me I let you have this place. A little competition for it is healthy, among us and the mortals. Admit it. You never would have advanced your kobolds without me.”

Tafeita: Meeting

"...yes. Yes you are stronger than me," Tafeita drawled. "Just as I am blorp than you. I am blorp enough that I will take this land for my own one day, because I am the blorpest. Honestly," the beast sighed. "What does 'strength' have to do with us? We can create or destroy at will. Before that 'strength' is nothing. Merely an abstract concept some of us vaguely agree on that holds no real meaning. Yes, you could likely overpower me. I could also shatter this entire world and erase it from existence. One is significantly more impressive than the other. Not that you couldn't do the same, but that just puts your pride in your strength even more at odds with the nature of reality.

"Still, a race is something I can agree on. It's a trial far more to my liking. As for my kobolds... well it's true my path towards them will change, but I don't see that as a good thing," she conceded. "Now I must spend time and power that could be spent making them happy girding them for war. For even if I do not bring it to you, you shall bring it to me. And already have," she spits bitterly at the plight of her capture people.

[Nefarion Xid]

Mamona
On the shores of Karam-Kor

Abjectly incorrigible in her languor, the horned goddess had been days on the beach where she'd remade herself, engaged only in facile pleasures. The glassy beach had been transformed into a tiny palace for one. A dais of faceted, glittering glass was raised up with curving steps leading down to the surf. All around were columns of experimental designs. Scattered among them were sculptures of creatures that did not yet exist. Some were whimsical fancies. Many were utterly salacious, diabolic things and carnal pleasures given exalted form. Many still were merely copies of herself. One armored, winged creature looked to be power and elegance incarnate.

At the center of the pavilion was a shallow, steaming pool with a raised lip. Mamona dwelled there, spilling over the edge, continually amusing herself by pulling new designs of jewelry from her amulet. What she adored went on her. What she found lacking was cast into a growing heap of golden trinkets. She had nearly finished decorating her horns with hammered bands.

"Is someone there?" she called out. Her ears pricked, but she didn't search with her eyes. Her voice was honey poured over treachery.

"Oh, don't be afraid, darling. I don't bite."

[ElFi]

The Second Mediation of Many-As-One

The Citadel

One-Of-Many watches the Sky Whisperer curiously, listening to its whistling tones borrowed from half a dozen of its fellow Lords of Creation. The angels are likewise interested in this mysterious entity who acts and sounds so much like themselves; they gather around and attempt to make conversation in their unique almost-language of whistles, clicks, and strobing bioluminescence. For a moment the palace is alive with sound and color, then First-Of-His-Name nods and raises a hand for quiet, and absolute silence descends on the room.

Then, a call for action arrives in an icy clarion call through the invisible threads of cosmic power that connect One-Of-Many to the rest of the flock. "Sky Whisperer," It says quickly in its high-pitched and melodious tone, "If you wish to learn more of peace, you will follow us to the Hall of Titans, at the far end of the bridge of stars. We have obtained a dispute between our fellow Lords that we are called upon to mediate. Please accept our apologies for this abrupt leave of absence." Then, without another word, One-Of-Many spreads its wings and takes flight, leaving behind the palace and First-Of-His-Name, bound for the higher duty for which it and its flock were born.

The Hall of Titans

Many-As-One arrive only moments behind Eniym, gliding into the hall in a diffuse swarm that solidifies into a humanoid shape floating in midair. They regard the furious Marah for a moment, then speak in a unified, booming voice. "Tidecaller," They say to her, "We are grateful that you have come to this place to make use of it for the purpose we designed, many seasons ago. We assure you, we shall weigh your case fairly and assure that justice will be found, wherever it may lie."

The flock returns to a dissolute cloud of birds, which travel the length of the room until they settle at the far end of the circle. The Hall begins to reshape itself, structures blurring and solidifying acquiring a new sense of substance, hard lines and firm edges. At ninety degrees to either side of Many-As-One, a dais rises from the ground, ringed with runic symbols of copper and moonstone that carry a pervading glow of authority. Many-As-One gesture loosely to the dais to their right, saying, "Please, take your place until the accused has arrived."

Then, a single member of the flock separates and flutters out and away from the Hall, bound for the planet below and the being Marah seeks justice from.

Karam-Kor and the First City

One-Of-Many wings across the metal and molten city of Akkraul, absorbing the sights of the budding civilization with its unfeeling eyes. At any other time it would admire the hard work and ingenuity of the Lord of Creation that created this place, but this is not the day. Today is the day that Many-As-One act in their role as arbitrator and lawmaker, not observer and educator. It is unfortunate, but so are so many things about life.

The forge of Nemesis is no longer solitary. A single crystalline bird arrives, landing on the anvil as if it were not as hot as a thousand molten volcanoes, claws sinking into its surface as if it was not crafted of a thousand pounds of deific iron. One-Of-Many regards the god of forges and storms before them, and says, "Reforged King, your presence is requested in the Hall of Titans at the top of the world."

[ChaoticHarmony]

Looloodi: On the Shores of Karam-Kor



Looloodi smiles softly to herself. While the voice was as sweet and light as the glow of Ilianthos, she can not help but hear a dark and bitter undertone. She will have to tread carefully, but tread forward she must. As she approaches the palace of glass, Looloodi takes notice of the numerous statues scattered across the beach. Certainly beautiful and charming, but lacking that spark of life, the inner beauty that shines from within. Perhaps if they were made of Looloodite.......

There! The owner of the sultry voice, the being who's existence compelled her to seek it out. Well then, her instincts were certainly correct about her beauty. The voluptuous maiden lay near bare within that basin of water, barely covered by the suds of her bath and the jewelry hanging off her body. What a strangely majestic material holding those common gems in place, it certainly must be as much a part of her as the gems are of Looloodi.

Focus Looloodi! That Isn't what you came here for, beautiful though it may be. Still your heart and act proper! "Greetings! I am, like, Looloodi, Goddess of Plants, Gems, and Beauty. May I, like, ask what you name is?"

[SpeedWitch]

Chryon and the Dawnflies

Chryon rushed to the next dawnfly as it began it's migration and gave the creature their gaze. The deific energies of Chryon's gift rippled through the protective powers surrounding the creature. The harshness of the gaze was stripped away as it finally found its way into the creature. What was left was only the idea, the thought, the desire to observe.

Rhah Engulia: The Dawnflies

As Chyron stares into the depths of the Dawnfly's soul, something wriggled it's way into his peripheral vision. A very confused eel rolls down the side of the Dawnfly, having been deposited onto it's back after the previous Dawnfly gave it's life to hatch it's offspring. Furious, the eel lets out an ear-splitting roar, and strikes the side of the Dawnfly with it's tail, creating a ripple of white light that travels up and down the entirety of the firey insect several times, a sea's worth of metal streaming into existence within it's veins.

Not long after, the eel crashes into the tree below, it's superheated skin creating scorchmarks all around the enormous petal that caught it. The creature squirms there for a moment, repeatedly banging it's head against the ground--and launching itself into the air the fourth time. The eel squeals, and ceaces movement a few feet above the ground before falling and stopping yet again. It flips around on it's back, not used to flying, and turns to face Chryon, freezing when it catches sight of him. A low rumble begins to sound from the back of it's throat, the creature enamored by the light of the deity before it. It almost tries to approach, but something holds it back. Some base instinct, warning of iminent danger. Even with the intense majesty of radience beconing the eel closer, it hesitates, feeling the light force it's way between it's metalic plates. It realizes that this, this is not a comforting light. In fact, comforting would be the last word used to describe the being it now faced.

Spoiler: Bookkeeping

Show

Stats
Rhah Engulia
Domains: Hunger (Light), Transmutation (Precious Metals)
Free AP: 13/16
Spent AP: 1

Actions
Dragon's Gold. A rare metal with a higher melting point than ordinary gold, dragon's gold is an incredibly light material that's as sturdy as iorn when properly refined. Furthermore, after being exposed to light, dragon's gold can radiate it's own light for a time, up to an hour depending on the intensity of the origional light source.

Dragon's Blood. Clumps of dragon's gold now run throughout the searing haemolymph in the circulitory systems of all future Dawnflies. Growths of dragon's blood may sometimes bubble to the surface of a Dragonflie's skin and eventually pop, sending the material down to the First World, usually cooling by the time it hits the ground. When a Dawnfly dies, it's gold dies with it, the divine essence within it's embers being imblazened into the next Dawnfly. The concentration of dragon's gold in their veins fluctuates up and down from Dawnfly to Dawnfly, due to a variety of unknown biological factors. As of it's inception, Dawnflies are the First World's only source of dragon's gold.

Action Log
(- 1 AP) Blessing: Dragon's Gold [Undecided]
(- 1 AP) Blessing: Dragon's Blood [Undecided]

---

(- 1 AP) Blessing: Silverwind [Undecided]

[Nefarion Xid]

Mamona & Looloodi
On the shores of Karam-Kor

"Aren't you adorable?" The devilish woman smiled and it was only a little predatory. Intrigued, she slipped further from the pool to have a better look at the creature. The top half was familiar, but then it was all confusion and dubious functionality. She only had a distant memory of flowers or vines. There were none to be found in this blasted island her brother had raised from the sea.

"You may call me Mamona," she said, still gazing. It was a lush sound, that felt heavy in her mouth. Saying it delighted her, so she had decided it must be her name.

Suddenly rising from the water and revealing her plump hips, she offered, "Join me?" and retreated to the far, shallow end of the pool where she had shaped a reclining seat.

[bc56]

Tenebreon and the Fortress of Moss

"No, it is better for my words to be graven alongside yours by my own hand so those who come after can see them." Tenebreon leaves his third carving behind and takes the left. He hopes that isn't a mistake, although it might be.

[BaratheonFury]

Spoiler

Show

“You can call me Janika the Neverfail.”

She looked from Tafeita to the other gods here, the new ones, Caerox and Selima.

“You are all against me? You must stand together because you all are garbage. But you are my siblings. If you are no good in a fight, how about a race? You look a little fast. Maybe if you beat me I let you have this place. A little competition for it is healthy, among us and the mortals. Admit it. You never would have advanced your kobolds without me.”

Caerox, A Jovial meeting

Caerox's laughter pauses for just a moment as he examines the Boisterous giantess before it resumes, louder than before "I shall take your word for it, for one garbed as thou must be well versed in garbage! Nevertheless I stand wherever there is need and cause for I am Caerox!"

[Razade]

Shadows under the Earth: The Fortress of Moss

The Gloam gave their goodbyes in silence as both Goddesses departed and when the winds ceased to blow and the wet grounds beneath became dry there were only two. Deep, deep beneath the Earth of the First Lands one fled, or follied or perhaps simply flighted. There would be a hall within the Fortress no doubt that recorded the passing of a shadow where so little light remained, to be read by some alien eye but that was a tale for tomorrow and the shadows came today.

The robed figure found fortune in those dark places, but it was not the nature of Stone to remember. After all, what were the rocks for? It came with purpose for was it not that a single stone stood as the foundation of a mighty structure? What structure greater than a fortress? They'd been made together, when time wasn't time at all by hands that never held tools. The Stone had forgotten even that, but the rocks would remember when both were worn away with time, now that time was ticking.

"How now, does a Stone speak to a Fortress." the Gloam spake, surrounded by moss and rock. "But with lips of lightning and eyes of flame? Strange times are these that they could talk to one another at all. What will does a Stone have? What do the bones remember? The ache of winter, where there is no snow. The humid air of summer when the passage of seasons is marked by a tree? The touch of sunlight, where only dawnflies lazily trawl the skies? Such strange dreams to dream, where even windfish may wake and heroes find themselves in threes. We, the Gloam, do come to you for the message on the Stone is clear. How do we, dreams of simple stone and earth, find ourselves when Gods wage war?"

[GSisco]

Nasigune: The First Dungeon

For the first time, Nasigune felt humor as she watched the pathetic creatures fight not to be the first of her chosen. The blood spilled and began fill the grooves that had been created in the soil. The symbols filled with the blood of beings slowly. Then with a rush of blood, as "Faster-Than-Others" collapsed, the ritual was finished. Light began to shine from the lines on the floor. The two remaining goblins, beaten and bloody, tried to escape the chamber but they only managed to make it outside of the ritual itself before it's full activation. The light was blinding as the soul of the dead goblin was absorbed by Nasigune. She filtered it, purified the energy and returned it to the corpse with a small piece of her own soul energy.

The body of Faster-Than-Others began to mend and grow and improve. The new creature distinctly resembled the goblins but taller and fiercer. With a smile the new being bared it's new razor sharp teeth.

"You shall be the first of the chosen of the Great Nasigune. You shall defend me with the power I have granted You. You shall steal the souls of your victims and grow stronger. Most importantly, you shall serve me. You're old life is gone. From now on you shall be known as Reaper -Of-Souls."

Spoiler: AP

Show

Starting AP 4

Create Hero:Reaper-Of-Souls: The first Vampiric creation of Nasigune. Instead of feeding off blood, he feeds off life energy. He absorbs the souls of his victims. Domain: Soul (Sacrifice

Remaining AP: 2

Soul (Sacrifice) 8/10
-Create Mythic Concept: Enchanting
Create Mundane Concept: Soul
-Bless: Looloodite as Soul Stones
-Raise Hero: Reaper-Of-Souls

[RolandDeschain]

Selima, Tafeita, Sololond, Janika

Spoiler: Previously

Show

Tafeita: Goblin Lands

"Frankly I would rather have you let me be beaten then indulge in a senseless battle. I know enough to realize I'm odd in that regards however," Tafeita chuckled. This new sister seemed to be of good character at least. "Still I appreciate your offer."

At Tafeita's words, the Caracal lowers her gaze, "You ask much....and more....Tafeita. A thing contrary to my nature. Such a fight would never be 'senseless'."

To the angry green thing Selima merely shakes her head, "I am no more against you than I am against the stars, the earth, or the wind. You simply....are, and I am not against your...being. It is, in fact, difficult to even conceive of such a thing. You seek enemies and opponents to define yourself, to measure your self-worth. You are what it is in your nature to be. Your words are like the wind that finds no purchase against the stone, but the wind is patient whereas I suspect you are not. Perhaps if you blow harder you shall find fulfillment."

[mystic1110]

Spoiler: Previously

Show

Marah: Justice, by Law or Sword

She turns, and the Water that is her form boils to a feverish tempest, a ripple-wave rising from the bottom towards her outstretched hand for a moment before shuddering to stop. The tempest abates, for the moment. This god is not the one she seeks. She has felt the destruction, the spoor left behind by divine interference. This one, though, is familiar. She has tasted it before, when she first brought the coral from the Reef to create a home for her Mer. "My people value your gift greatly." She says tersely, though without real ire. "It grows and is tended and tends to them. A bond made through mutual need." she finishes, more softly. "It suffered, as my people did, at the depredations of another of our kin. I mean to have justice for that sacrilege."

[COLOR="#40E0D0"]
The Hall of Titans

Many-As-One arrive only moments behind Eniym, gliding into the hall in a diffuse swarm that solidifies into a humanoid shape floating in midair. They regard the furious Marah for a moment, then speak in a unified, booming voice. "Tidecaller," They say to her, "We are grateful that you have come to this place to make use of it for the purpose we designed, many seasons ago. We assure you, we shall weigh your case fairly and assure that justice will be found, wherever it may lie."

The flock returns to a dissolute cloud of birds, which travel the length of the room until they settle at the far end of the circle. The Hall begins to reshape itself, structures blurring and solidifying acquiring a new sense of substance, hard lines and firm edges. At ninety degrees to either side of Many-As-One, a dais rises from the ground, ringed with runic symbols of copper and moonstone that carry a pervading glow of authority. Many-As-One gesture loosely to the dais to their right, saying, "Please, take your place until the accused has arrived."

Then, a single member of the flock separates and flutters out and away from the Hall, bound for the planet below and the being Marah seeks justice from.

Pre-Trial

Whether her words to the bird god had an effect, whether they would force their hand to certain action or if they would evoke nothing in her, did not matter to Eniym - she merely pushes a rolling rock one way, hopefully to crash with another rolling rock, but as long as they do not reach their destination it would be as if she had succeeded. She will try again later perhaps, sometimes a particularly large rock would need a particularly strong push. Regardless, that was for another time, now here was an occurence. And occurences that are supposed to happen, the Upheaval thinks, are distractions from the occurencens that should not. The question was whether this was the latter or former. Certaintly her hand did not create it, which meant this was all natural and normal. She felt compelled to intercede in some way.

If the Coral was damaged then justice belongs to . . brrlplop . . . me as well would you not agree. I will bear will witness for it to be done, and we shall share it. But before our Kin arrives to be judged - what . . brrlplop . . . is justice? What is it that we seek? I do not care for deprivations to be visited upon our Kin's own creations in equivilence, but . . brrlplop . . . I am the storm - destruction is part of the world. It is natural. It is the way of things. Is that what we want? Or do we seek the unnatural - something other than more harm and pain.

[mystic1110]

Spoiler: Previously

Show

[Tenebreon]

The corridors continue, lined with murals.

That's one way to put it.

And you can talk if you prefer, I cannot speak, but I can listen.

The corridor opens briefly into a larger cave, filled with a foul-smelling pitch in which ancient bones linger, a number of mossy, stone bridges giving passage over the hot sludge, and caretakers shuffling about as ever.

What about you? I have been hearing your gears at work and your name in the kobold's prayers, but mortal legend is none too full of truth. Take that left and you will find the raunchiest tale one of their tribes tells between you and their maker.

Dare Tenebreon take that left?

The Romancing of Patience

The children were off to sleep after a hard days work, and the adults were beginning to stretch their legs. As these nights go usually they would wait till all the little ones closed their eyes and then . . . well . . . make more little ones. However, one of the little Kobolds stayed awake and wove between their legs as they stayed up drinking and telling each other stories and sights seen.

One of the Kobolds took the little one and placed him on a small stool so that he felt like one of the grown-ups. The hearth was roaring and the child felt this he was about to join the grown-up world. The kobold that picked up the little one was the boy's uncle, and it always seems like it would be an uncle to tell this tale. The kinship and love between a father and son are too strong for such bawdy tales, and this is the type of tale that only men tell each other.

The Uncle asked the Kobold child if he had ever heard the tale of how The Heart Warmer warmed the Heart of the God of Hard Work and convinced him to open up his workshops for her people as Heaven? The child shook his head - he hadn't heard the tale. The Uncle winked and began to speak, while the other adults laughed or rolled their eyes and went to sleep.

Once, he says, after the Heart Warmer created us but before any of us had known what death was, Tafeita had stumbled upon the desert. It was Hell. There was nothing to do, no one to help, just dry and light without the protection of darkness. There she wandered confused for she heard the sounds of passion and couldn't understand how anyone could make love in the full light of day instead of the gentle covers of darkness. There she saw the Desert Maiden and Chyron, the Lady and Lord of Hell themselves, making love in the sands.

Now our goddess is the goddess of love and lovemaking and so she felt that she had no choice but to bless this union. As the two gods of the dry hell were pushing into each other ravenously and hot - the heat of their gazes was what multiplied the desert, she announced herself and gave them her blessing. In states of undress and shocked at the interruption, the two gods turned around and angrily cursed her and said that they hated her love and her love of their love and that her people shall be forced to spend their days in their desert.

The Heart Warmer was heart broken and ran from the desert scared that she doomed her beloved kobolds to the wastes after their death. She was desperate to find them another home after their mortal forms had fallen into dust. And so as she ran she devised a plan for she knew of the Patient Designer and his halls of crafts beneath the earth. Such a place would be perfect for her beloved people. But how to convince him?

As in all things, our goddess is the goddess of love, and so she found a mirror and dressed in robes that she thought the great god of gears would find enticing. She wore an outfit that was like a puzzle. It was full of latches and strings and zippers and buttons. One could spend days taking it off. And dressed in this alluring ensemble she walked into one of the great tunnels and began her journey to find the God below.

Now Tenebreon, our lord of heaven, in those days was a lonely god - he sat by himself in the dark and thought of nothing but his machines. Suddenly he had a visitor in his workshop. He turned around and saw true beauty for the first time. It was our goddess - her dress, as complicated as it was, was still sheer and red. Without talking, she walked up to the Gear God and grabbed him and kissed him deeply. She bit his neck and whispered in his ear.

He tried to ask her who she was and she replied that she meant to be his lover, and he was red in the face - he hadn't imagined anything like this in his blueprints, and she told him to take off her dress. As the Uncle said, this dress was made specifically to entice him, and he marveled at its craft, falling in love with this goddess all the more so. For two days he untied strings and unclipped buckles, took off every button until the Heart Warmer stood naked and became the Loin Warmer. He felt naked before her power as well even though he was fully dressed.

It was if she knew exactly what he wanted for she looked around his workshop and saw that he had strong leather belts around - meant for pulley systems and other such mechanics. She took the leather and tied the God of Gears upon his own work tabel and then stood above him. She made him promise to take her people into his halls after they died. He did. She made him promise that each good Kobold who loved work would find a good home here, far away from the desert, for the Kobolds to find good work and to be treated with as much love as he had for her. He agreed - he would agree to anything, as she took him in throes of passion. And in such a way heaven was made.

The little boy stared at his uncle unsure what to make of the story - Kobold children were no strangers to sex, their shelters were small after all - but to think of their beloved goddess tying another god down? It was obscene. But then again, that was the point of a grown up tale. The boy though asked what was he to learn from all this?

The Uncle laughed and said - my boy, the important leasson is that a woman will always get what she wants.

And just then the kobold child's mother yelled at him to go to sleep. How true the boy thought, the lesson learned.

[Toxic Mind]

Marah: Justice, by Law or Sword

"Your claim is valid, for the Coral was yours before it was Mine, and it was harmed all the same." Marah says cautiously. This vengeance was her vengeance, and she did not wish an intrusion upon it. Still, she was the Goddess of Companions, of Bindings-Together, of Love-That-Is-Union, and that title came with its own flaws. So she relents, and accepts. "Gods should not fight mortals. A shell cannot fight the ocean - to attempt such is folly. It creates suffering for no purpose, the loss is needless and cruel. We are powerful, but we should not be cruel in that power."

[ChaoticHarmony]

Spoiler: Previously

Show

Mamona & Looloodi
On the shores of Karam-Kor

"Aren't you adorable?" The devilish woman smiled and it was only a little predatory. Intrigued, she slipped further from the pool to have a better look at the creature. The top half was familiar, but then it was all confusion and dubious functionality. She only had a distant memory of flowers or vines. There were none to be found in this blasted island her brother had raised from the sea.

"You may call me Mamona," she said, still gazing. It was a lush sound, that felt heavy in her mouth. Saying it delighted her, so she had decided it must be her name.

Suddenly rising from the water and revealing her plump hips, she offered, "Join me?" and retreated to the far, shallow end of the pool where she had shaped a reclining seat.

Looloodi hesitated for just a second. Something was....off, about this woman. While her outer appearance was certainly, compellingly, beautiful like her own, there was something dark beneath that almost screams at her to run.

But then.....it would be rude of her to turn down the kind offer without provocation. With a smile similar to Mamona's but far more innocent, Looloodi enter s the bath. A sigh of pure bliss escapes her lips when the water touches her roots. It feels pure and perfectly warm. As she nears the bare Goddess, dozens of her natural gems fall off her body, plinking into the water. The natural light produced by her Looloodite gives the entire bath a hauntingly beautiful glow. Now standing in front of her....could she be considered a sister? Looloodi does not yet know. Her mind feels slightly foggy, she does not know what to say, so only stands, her body nearly coming to contact with Mamona as she tries to think

[mystic1110]

Spoiler: Previously

Show

Marah: Justice, by Law or Sword

"Your claim is valid, for the Coral was yours before it was Mine, and it was harmed all the same." Marah says cautiously. This vengeance was her vengeance, and she did not wish an intrusion upon it. Still, she was the Goddess of Companions, of Bindings-Together, of Love-That-Is-Union, and that title came with its own flaws. So she relents and accepts. "Gods should not fight mortals. A shell cannot fight the ocean - to attempt such is folly. It creates suffering for no purpose, the loss is needless and cruel. We are powerful, but we should not be cruel in that power."

Pre-Trial

The mudfish queries:

What should be the purpose of mortal suffering? If I am to let the winds . . brrlplop . . .blow and the clouds rain, should there be a reason? And if we judge that . . brrlplop . . . our . . brrlplop . . . kin committed unreason - what shall we have as reparations? More mortal . . brrlplop . . . suffering? Is the purpose of their suffering our justice against each other?

The upheaval swims in the air, slime dressing her like fine gossamear.

I do not wish to quell your rage - I understand the turbulence of the oceans as they are yours as I am of it, but before we judge . . brrlplop . . . we should know punishment and its purpose.

[Draken]

Tenebreon and the Fortress of Moss

"No, it is better for my words to be graven alongside yours by my own hand so those who come after can see them." Tenebreon leaves his third carving behind and takes the left. He hopes that isn't a mistake, although it might be.

So many things I learn of you in the span of two choices.

This hall of stories extends quite far, but lets not get carried away here.

Shadows under the Earth: The Fortress of Moss

The Gloam gave their goodbyes in silence as both Goddesses departed and when the winds ceased to blow and the wet grounds beneath became dry there were only two. Deep, deep beneath the Earth of the First Lands one fled, or follied or perhaps simply flighted. There would be a hall within the Fortress no doubt that recorded the passing of a shadow where so little light remained, to be read by some alien eye but that was a tale for tomorrow and the shadows came today.

The robed figure found fortune in those dark places, but it was not the nature of Stone to remember. After all, what were the rocks for? It came with purpose for was it not that a single stone stood as the foundation of a mighty structure? What structure greater than a fortress? They'd been made together, when time wasn't time at all by hands that never held tools. The Stone had forgotten even that, but the rocks would remember when both were worn away with time, now that time was ticking.

"How now, does a Stone speak to a Fortress." the Gloam spake, surrounded by moss and rock. "But with lips of lightning and eyes of flame? Strange times are these that they could talk to one another at all. What will does a Stone have? What do the bones remember? The ache of winter, where there is no snow. The humid air of summer when the passage of seasons is marked by a tree? The touch of sunlight, where only dawnflies lazily trawl the skies? Such strange dreams to dream, where even windfish may wake and heroes find themselves in threes. We, the Gloam, do come to you for the message on the Stone is clear. How do we, dreams of simple stone and earth, find ourselves when Gods wage war?"

The walls carve themselves in front of the Gloam.

War is the best time to dream. To dream of victory and peace. To dream of glory soaked in horror. To dream of survival never to be obtained. Dreams are fleeting things, as mortal as the dreamers themselves. Even the ones that last lose themselves to age, as their contents become meaningless or reframed.

And war too is a great time for fortresses and bones. I yearn for the tales that I will carve and the mausoleums that will come. I would not worry.

Unless these old rocks hold premonitions? Well... Even then. There are spineless witches everywhere, and these can be trusted to confound others.

[bc56]

Tenebreon and the Fortress: A Tale in the Telling

"Yet your nature is still a mystery to me. Why populate your halls with the dead and dying? Even as you fight to preserve knowledge for eternity, you embrace the decay which comes to all things."
Tenebreon reads the story.
"A curious tale. They see connections where none exist, but is that genius or insanity at work. There is not a grain of truth in its fabric, but that is not the point, is it? It is allegory, a tale to explain the machinery of their own bodies, which is beyond their comprehension."

[Draken]

A secret passage opens next to Tenebreon, leading to another set of corridors.

Decay? Hardly. That's Stone's realm. A process of nature. Everywhere, with no regard for the living or the dead. Even your gears of rock grind themselves away, it is why we prefer to linger still. To last.

Decay is forgetting. It is when objects forget their form and beasts forget their past.
I remember.
I remember motion, and so the dead may move.
I remember wisdom, and so the mindless may tread with care.

A story begins, it grows, it ends. So does a creature. I would be remiss to abandon the bodies when I don't abandon the carvings. They are very similar, all of these things.

[Toxic Mind]

Marah: Justice, by Law or Sword

Spoiler: Previously

Show

Pre-Trial

The mudfish queries:

What should be the purpose of mortal suffering? If I am to let the winds . . brrlplop . . .blow and the clouds rain, should there be a reason? And if we judge that . . brrlplop . . . our . . brrlplop . . . kin committed unreason - what shall we have as reparations? More mortal . . brrlplop . . . suffering? Is the purpose of their suffering our justice against each other?

The upheaval swims in the air, slime dressing her like fine gossamear.

I do not wish to quell your rage - I understand the turbulence of the oceans as they are yours as I am of it, but before we judge . . brrlplop . . . we should know punishment and its purpose.

"A false comparison, sister - His act was not one of nature. The storms, the waves, the wind are all nature, they are created by us but not us. I am the Ocean, but I do not make the waves that crash into the shore during the storms. It was a deliberate act by a god's hand against mortals. Such things should not be. If we do not act through intermediaries, we risk the destruction of everything we build." There is little worry of Marah's lack of rage - her Ocean-Body roiled with barely contained fury once more. "As for punishment - it should be against the god themself. There is no purpose in continuing the cycle that began this. Banishment from his creations should suffice. It was for them that he committed this heinous act. The punishment befits the crime."

[Nefarion Xid]

Mamona & Looloodi
On the shores of Karam-Kor

“Isn’t that lovely?” Mamona purred, trawling her fingertips through the pink hued water.

She continued to study the floral creature before her and was a long time in contemplative, pregnant silence. Struck suddenly by a delightful thought, she clapped and a jubilet sound escaped her. Using the power of her amulet, she commanded the pillars to grow and join together in a trellis overhead. Then, from the volcanic soil, grew a dozen vines to climb the columns. Meeting in the middle, they swelled with handfuls of red fruit and were soon so laden they swayed down into easy reach.

Mamona plucked a cluster of grapes from the vine with her diamond hard nails and held them over for approval.

Her true purpose became clear a moment later as she summoned up a golden chalice, so large as to be more bowl than drinking cup. She held a second and third bunch over the bowl and the grapes bled, transforming into a heady wine as it dripped down.

Mamona drank first, greedily. Taking mouthfuls at a time, much of the wine tumbled over her lips and made lazy rivulets down her throat and decolletage. At length, she offered the wine to her guest.

“I should leave this place," she sighed and reclined fully. "The soil is rich here, but the water is cold. There’s naught for pleasurable company -- only my brutish brother and his playthings. They’re all stone and fire and ash. They have no hearts, nor anything flesh. I can hear their hammers ringing from here, but they make nothing beautiful.”

Spoiler: Actions

Show

Create Mundane Concept (-1 AP) - Wine/Alcohol. Trade (Currency) domain, I guess
6 AP remaining

Trade (Currency) domain claimed! See http://www.giantitp.com/forums/shows...&postcount=281 for accounting.

Mamona will also leave a parting gift for the giants in the form of coins bearing her likeness and golden idols. Using the Bless charge from her artifact for Week 1.

[neriractor]

Previously on...

Law and order: gods and Demis
mostly Daghir doing unrelated stuff actually

The playful imitation of the angels served to ease the god's tensions, charming as he found the creatures. They elicited a toothless smile, that showed nothing but the swirling dust and leafs at the back of his head.

When Many-As-One apologized, speaking of debate and problems he followed along with a hand wave to not worry about it, even as he thought that perhaps the majority was right, and peace was a fluke amidst he chaos. Despite (or because of) that thought he did not forget the angels and took a few with him at a speed they could handle.

He entered the room with care, eyeing the tasteful architecture, it was god-made alright. He watched the eel whose words he had borrowed and the tidecaller who he had only met through word. His stare lingered on the ocean for a moment, wondering if she was like him and made a body to fit in, and scarcely heard the discussion, one of the brought angels pulled him out of his trance and again he felt a hint of that curious emotion that was so common in him.

He nodded respect to the different gods and found his pillar. It was a turmoil of the speediest wind, and of the voices low and mighty with the giggle of an echo mixed in, he wondered how detailed it was in following his creations soon I'll know he thought, and a door formed at what would be his feet.

Happy that he could will the world to change similarly to his siblings in creation, Daghir set to work. The place started as a huge cube with manyfold rooms and crannies but after seeing the angels stumble or be locked away from most of the structure he worked on a redesign.

A rectangular hole of divine size falling for god knows how long, with passages upon passages leading to huge rooms resembling of libraries, detailing any conversation that had been through special echoes whose precense could now be felt in the (relatively) nearby hall. There flew a benign wind across the chaf, guiding the angels to where they wanted to go, once they had such a want. The decoration was spartan for such a holding, but he could care about it when he did.

And he tampered with Eniym's creations, first trying to leard their language, and then giving them the drive to seek more as he did, may they tend to his Records should he ever leave that place (he was beginning to doubt it).

And then he set to learning the perfection of words, their meaning and how to actually speak them in front of his peers and he debated with these Archons of the word in a language resembling that of what they were, for their words held new purpose now.

Spoiler: AP expenditure

Show

-1 AP Alter land (Word's keep [placeholder]): Daghir's private room within the Titan's hall, birthplace of the Word archons and home base of The Keepers. It holds the entirety of the world's conversations as far as Daghir could remember them, with a special gallery for each god, the most oppulent being that of the first speaker. [magic (truenaming) 2/10]

Spoiler: description

Show

A rectangular hole of divine size falling for god knows how long, with passages upon passages leading to huge rooms resembling of libraries, detailing any conversation that had been through special echoes and a benign wind that guided the angels to where they wanted to go, once they had such a want. The decoration was spartan for such a holding, but he could care about it when he did.

-1 AP create sub race (word archons): Daghir chosen angels, they retain most charasteristics of their cousins, save for a more graceful flight and a keen ability for making distinct sounds (a bit of cultural advancement and shaping was similarly added, Daghir doesn't really have that kind of patience), similarly devout to the understanding of the world, they are not used to the need for survival aside from in a theoretical setting and less beefy than your average angel, aside from getting the first taste of true-naming they'll be pretty much defenseless. [magic (truenaming) 3/10]

-4 AP create mythical concept (True-naming): the use of personal power, ritual, knowledge of the given meaning of words and those cemented as "true", and proper speak to exchange the proprieties of objects situations or creatures (given a knowledge of their true name, the true-names of the gods are incredibly easy to learn, but useless, except maybe to call their wrath upon you), examples include the use of the word "rock" to turn dirt into granite or other craft material and the word "prrrl ffftrur" to turn a will-based distance of nearby air into slimy muck. [magic (truenaming) 7/10]

-1 AP teach mundane concept (language): no time to have the Archons go past simple signs the hard way. [magic (truenaming) 8/10]

-1 AP Bless (powerful words): the entirety of the Titan's hall is imbued with the magic of the words within, magic is excepcionally easy within it and force of will, a strong connection, knowledge, etc; can generally supply for sacrifices and such other things that are hard to come by within the plane. [magic (truenaming) 9/10] (I admit this one is a bit of a stretch)

-1 AP Create organization (the keepers): Believers in the word and in Daghir, they are fully formed by archons at the beginning and for now only work to expand their own knowledge of the word, tend to the Word keep, practice the new mystichal art and provide amicable conversation for their god. [magic (truenaming) 10/10]

Gain domain: magic (truenaming)
actions:
-1 AP Create Monstrous life (Echoes)
-1 AP Create organization (the keepers)
-1 AP Bless (powerful words)
-1 AP teach mundane concept (language)
-4 AP create mythical concept (True-naming)
-1 AP create sub race (word archons)
-1 AP Alter land (Word's keep [placeholder])

AP left:
12 - 9= 3 AP

[Toxic Mind]

Rats and Fish

Spoiler: Previously

Show

The Great Rat

Many are the paths and tunnels of Tanglenest. Some stretch for hundreds of miles, yet feel considerably shorter to travel. Others, such as the one The Wandering Rat was travelling along, were a considerably more local affair. It had detected the scent of water - a *lot* of water and had chosen to investigate. There was a light at the end of the tunnel, growing brighter as the rat moved toward the exit. The tunnel ended on an embankment, in front of which was a small strip of sand stretching left and right. As the rat's eyes adjusted to the water, it gave an involuntary squeak of surprise. There was water here - it seemed endless, bigger than even the biggest pools in Tanglenest. Cautiously, it looked around for predators before trotting out onto the beach that girded the island. The Wandering Rat looked over its shoulder and saw The Great Tree behind. It was very big as well! The rat looked up and could just about see the beautiful petals at the top, glowing with their gentle yet powerful light. On the air was the same rainbow of scents The Great Rat had smelled from Looloodi, although The Wandering Rat knew none of this, save that the scent was wonderful.

So enraptured with the scent, it almost didn't see the figure stepping up from the ocean waves. It fought its initial instinct to flee, remembering the words of The Great Rat and the feeling of strength purpose it had felt at the time. This strange being carried something in its webbed paw and its skin seemed to be similar to that of a fish. Maybe it was a creature that could think, like the rats.The Wandering Rat thought carefully about how to speak to this being.

"Squeak?"

"Greetings, small one" said Tamesis. For almost a month she has roamed from the edge of the Coral Forest to the various islands and atolls at the behest of Queen Adria. She was excited, though, because this was the first life she had met that had even attempted to communicate with her. Most of the other creatures had run away, or tried to kill her. Tamesis was no slouch though - the Queen knew her stuff - and Tamesis had claimed three lives with her bone daggers in the previous week. She lifts the Rat up to her face hoping it would be able to speak her language.

[Razade]

The walls carve themselves in front of the Gloam.

War is the best time to dream. To dream of victory and peace. To dream of glory soaked in horror. To dream of survival never to be obtained. Dreams are fleeting things, as mortal as the dreamers themselves. Even the ones that last lose themselves to age, as their contents become meaningless or reframed.

And war too is a great time for fortresses and bones. I yearn for the tales that I will carve and the mausoleums that will come. I would not worry.

Unless these old rocks hold premonitions? Well... Even then. There are spineless witches everywhere, and these can be trusted to confound others.

The Gloam nods along as it reads, a thin sliver of sparks forming a mouth as if some rictus. "Is it the dreamer who dreams of such confusion or is it merely the nature of the dream itself, to be inscrutable to a point that those who came after can read what they will into it. Flames yet engulf the land, a premonition born from the hopes and dreads of the waves. Who are we to deny that for in time fetid waters may pool here."

The Gloam turns to a fresh wall so the words may not need be uncarved. "The Stone speaks yet of moss and mists, spread upon the surface by these flames. A promise, that the Deep will never lose that which it has hold of. I am here to reaffirm such agreements made in the voiceless words of what a Fortress may dream."

[Draken]

The Gloam nods along as it reads, a thin sliver of sparks forming a mouth as if some rictus. "Is it the dreamer who dreams of such confusion or is it merely the nature of the dream itself, to be inscrutable to a point that those who came after can read what they will into it. Flames yet engulf the land, a premonition born from the hopes and dreads of the waves. Who are we to deny that for in time fetid waters may pool here."

The Gloam turns to a fresh wall so the words may not need be uncarved. "The Stone speaks yet of moss and mists, spread upon the surface by these flames. A promise, that the Deep will never lose that which it has hold of. I am here to reaffirm such agreements made in the voiceless words of what a Fortress may dream."

You should ask that of fish, I am not one for confusion. I store knowledge, and pride myself in separating the fact from the fiction, the lie from the deception, the truth from the reality.

The sense from the making.

As for water and flame, they make strong weather. Good for wreckages and floods. It is hard to stretch beyond this land of our own making, but I am taking the effort. And already I have new ruins to add to my collection. How exciting.

And worry not, little girl. I take good care of all that was. And soon enough, I will have even better caretakers.

[bc56]

Tenebreon and the Fortress of Moss

"I see.
I have appreciated our discussion, but I must go now. I have other projects to work on, plans to complete.
Farewell, and may your halls grow rich with the knowledge of ages." Tenebreon returns to the caverns from whence he came, to work the stone once more, and to ponder.
One thing about the story irks him, a minor detail. He wonders about how disappointed his followers will be, that there is no heaven amongst the gears of his workshops.
He wonders, and he begins drafting blueprints...

[Draken]

Tenebreon and the Fortress of Moss

"I see.
I have appreciated our discussion, but I must go now. I have other projects to work on, plans to complete.
Farewell, and may your halls grow rich with the knowledge of ages." Tenebreon returns to the caverns from whence he came, to work the stone once more, and to ponder.
One thing about the story irks him, a minor detail. He wonders about how disappointed his followers will be, that there is no heaven amongst the gears of his workshops.
He wonders, and he begins drafting blueprints...

Even as Tenebreon departed, the walls carved themselves further.

And so, the Clockwork God set out, intent on making reality out of fiction.

[GSisco]

Nasigune: The First Dungeon

Reaper-Of-Souls turned to the goblins that killed him. "Breathren. Thank you for what you have done for me. Now come here and I will teach you how to advance our people."

While the Goblins were distracted learning the secrets of rituals, Nasigune turned her attention to her new watcher. "I have found readers. Readers who have earned their rewards."

After teaching the two goblins the secrets of blood and power, Reaper-Of-Souls led them out of the dungeon to send them on their way. "Make sure you keep these secrets close to the clans. Your greatest strength is that your enemies do not understand your power."

[Razade]

You should ask that of fish, I am not one for confusion. I store knowledge, and pride myself in separating the fact from the fiction, the lie from the deception, the truth from the reality.

The sense from the making.

As for water and flame, they make strong weather. Good for wreckages and floods. It is hard to stretch beyond this land of our own making, but I am taking the effort. And already I have new ruins to add to my collection. How exciting.

And worry not, little girl. I take good care of all that was. And soon enough, I will have even better caretakers.

"Aren't you? Aren't we all? We are all, each of us, the author to our own confusion. But fish know not the dream, they mistake it for the truth and are happy with it. How now would the Fortress deal with such delusion? Truth spoken plainly will often be left aside for a lie told sweetly. The lie was sweet then and is only sweeter now. Too many cooks spoil the pot." The Gloam bobs its head like some black bird, clicking teeth against mouth of which it had neither. "Of this we are certain, of this it has been told. In time, all in time."

The Gloam turns once more to a fresh wall, offering a bow and from within its robes two black candles and meat that glows and shimmers with the Elemental fury of the lands above in offering. "I leave now, have you anything for a Stone?"