Lords of Creation: A Time Forgotten IC

[Razade]

Faust
The Twilight Grove

"Of course the cycle of life and death should have meaning. But what do you mean by crimes? Who could do such a thing to us gods, except for the Creator? I propose the souls of the faithful spend a year in your domain before heading to their fate ordained by their god. Those who are faithless or wish to escape their fate must remain for hundred years, before being offered the choice to remain or a chance to rejoin the living. Of course, they would have to pass trials first."

Faust watches as a soul of a recently deceased human passes by on its journey.

"Another proposal. During the first year and the first year only, mortals may be brought back to life. Whether through magic or a gods will. Maybe even a mortal makes the journey here to claim the soul, through whatever means. For I believe that changing the cycle is just as important. And, interesting to watch the attempt."

"The Faithless will not be permitted to leave. For it is by our will they draw breath." Yen'Shi hisses, coiling up further from the lake below to loom larger in the bruised sky. "Those who wish to escape...the thought had not occured to me. Very well. The rest is yours to decree. The souls of the dead shall come here for a year and then will be permitted to leave. Our other Brethren may claim their dead when ever they so wish and the Faithless are -mine- for always. Should a mortal manage to pierce through the veil then they may fight for their loved ones and should a soul escape...they're free. Until they return." The Corpse beast chuckles, flicking his finger acting as a perch for the Phoenix God. "A compromise. Surely this is agreeable."


[The Corpse Hives]

As more skeletons began to pour in from around the world the Bone Weavers set to work deep in their breeding pits. To create another of their kind was no simple task and to make others for tasks yet unfathomed was far harder. The world above was varied and could supply them with what they needed but the bodies would be weak for simple creatures did not possess enough meat to make more of their kind. So within the Breath a plan was divided, thousands brought into a single momentary focus. They could not be isolated and a thousand bodies began to move. They knew a hazy concept of what the beings they shared their world with looked like and as they patched bone and festering flesh they tried to mimic it and breath the Breath into their breast. Spindly as a Willow they took shape and with long fingers they grasped at the air, within their mouths rested teeth and jaw like the surface dwellers but also the mandibles of their Bone Weaver Brethren. With four eyes like the rest of their Hive they would see a world no matter how bright or dark they became and when their shell was finished the Corpse Hives thrummed with pleas to their Creator and the Corpse Beast was moved, lighting the flame of the Breath within their breasts so that its will and the work of the Corpse Hives could continue without ceasing. And for the first time the Speech Weavers walked the earth above, their connection to their Hives far stronger than any creature before them. Unlike their first kin the Speech Weavers suffered no lack of mental acuity no matter how far they found themselves from their Hive-Mates, only growing stronger in the presence of their people. Yet still they were only the mouth of the Hives, no crown had yet been found yet. These Speech Weavers were provided yet more autonomy over themselves, developing personalities that painted itself upon any of its brood that drew near though they had no need for names and refereed to themselves by the name of their Hive. Only one existed for each Hive for they were difficult to make and so were never left alone, a horde of Bone Weavers never far.


[Da Greenthumb Boyz]

From the forests came a clicking and a humming as a small band of spider like creatures made through their way through the neat little rows of crops to what ever fishing stands were manned. At the forefront stood what could easily be mistaken for an elf but paler and with four eyes, body moving and twitching as if reacting to unheard sounds. It's voice like a buzzing insect broke the otherwise silent group. "We are the Corpse Hive Al'Hiral, this one has come to speak with your Brood Leader."

[T-Rex Colosseum]

From out of the desert the small band came, wrapped in spider silk and stone to protect from the harsh sun. At the forefront of the small (to a T-Rex) beings was a willowlike and pale being that seemed to direct the not so human-like beings that followed behind it. Looking for cracks in the structure they crept in, seeking the first most approachable being on the fighting grounds. "We are Corpse Hive Al'Shiraz and this one seeks your Brood Leader" the pale small being called out, the mass scuttling and doing their best not to get caught up in the fighting.

[City of the Holy Greyl]

As night fell across the City of Holy Greyl that slowly crept onto the streets. There were not many of the spider like creatures and only one pale almost human looking being walked to the center of the city hoping to find a living soul in which to converse.

[Elven Clans]

It was not hard to spot the small band of Bone Weavers as they made their way across the deserts and blasted landscapes though they were no match for the Elven peoples speed. What they did have was a tireless gait that the living could not match however for that which had no life could not grow weary or hungry. So it was that the small band from Corpse Hive Al'Zarub approached a small band of Elves, headed by one very similar to the Elves themselves though much paler and very clearly lacking the agility or color of life.

Spoiler: AP Usage

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Create Sentient Life: Speech Weavers -2

AP 4 - 2 = 2 AP

[Markadelf]

[T-Rex Colosseum]

From out of the desert the small band came, wrapped in spider silk and stone to protect from the harsh sun. At the forefront of the small (to a T-Rex) beings was a willowlike and pale being that seemed to direct the not so human-like beings that followed behind it. Looking for cracks in the structure they crept in, seeking the first most approachable being on the fighting grounds. "We are Corpse Hive Al'Shiraz and this one seeks your Brood Leader" the pale small being called out, the mass scuttling and doing their best not to get caught up in the fighting.

"What do you want?" T-Rax barked as he tripped one of the nine T-Rexes currently pursuing him (which happened to result in the tripped one getting headbutted by two of the T-Rexes behind it) and moved to dodge another. Raxmos is clearly visible above the arena.

[mattsdelf]

Tixial

One afternoon, Tim's gang was wandering around the jungle, searching for other survivors in such a hostile environment, and they got a little too close for comfort to the stone colosseum...

[SpeedWitch]

[City of the Holy Greyl]

As night fell across the City of Holy Greyl that slowly crept onto the streets. There were not many of the spider like creatures and only one pale almost human looking being walked to the center of the city hoping to find a living soul in which to converse.

Ramesh gasped, waking to the cold of the night. He stared into the darkness for a moment, then taped a contraption on the side of his bed. The rare glowstone sent a soft light across the room, it's buzzing waking his wife Freyah.

"What is it, my husband?"

"Nothing, just a bad dream. ... I'm going to get some water."

The king of Greylith stepped out into the hallway and called for a servant to bring him his drink. Cooling his throat with the liquid, he steped out onto the balcony and observed the city streets. Unlike other nights, where the fires of the forge and the late-night workers could be heard, it was eerily silent.

Something caught his eye. In the direction of the city gates, he saw something... no, many somethings scurrying under the street lights. An oil lighter dropped his tools and ran from the crowd until he vanished into the night. Screams started to echo through the walls.

A guard came up behind Ramesh. "My Lord." He knelt. "Monsters have entered the city. They are not Rexes, they are... something else."

"I know." The king responded. "They are servants of Yen'Shi, keeper of the dead. Assemble your men and follow me. We must met them. Peacefully."

"Y-yes, my lord." The confused guard dashed back and called for the rest of the guard. Ramesh ordered for his servants to quickly dress him in his robes, and soon he was assembled with the best of the guard on the steps of the palace. The inner gates opened wide for the visitors...

[thethird]

[Elven Clans]
The Sur's Clan

The Clan could easily outrun their pursuers, their antelopes breed for speed beyond equal, but the relentness of the creatures chase would greatly diminish the Clan's capacity to deal with other potential dangers. Finally the elder's decided that it was wise to meet those that gave chase on a place of the Clan's choosing. The place they picked was a plain, it's short grass was good for the animal's yet it hid many dangers, loose sand hid crevices under the surface. The clan had used those on many hunts to trap larger beasts and keep them from moving. The elves knew where those were, and would evade them with ease, those following them wouldn't be so fortunate.

The clan's chariots formed a defensive perimeter, with most drivers holding the reins tightly preparing to bolt at the slightest provocation. The spear elves and archers, mounted at the chariot's back, were holding their weapons carefully preparing to loose rain on the dead if it proved necessary. One chariot though did advance toward the creature at the forefront. It was pulled by two white fured antelopes that had two pairs of horns each, interloping in symetrical spiral spears. At the chariots back there were two banners of terse colorful cloth that made a terrible sound when it cut the wind. The chariot was also embelished, the wood carved and decorated with elves hunting lions with bow and arrow. The chariot halted at a hundred paces. On the vehicle there were three elves. All dressed like the other elves, dark robes and with their faces hidden behind turbans, but even if the fabric and style was the same they appeared to be more prosperous. The archer an arrow resting against the horn arrow and five more held in his bow hand. The spearer grasped firmly the long pike with his right hand while the left was raised as in a martial salute and held a wooden circle slightly above the driver's head. The driver was clearly some sort of leader for his pose was regal. He was the one that spoke.

I am Anghal Sur. What are you?

[Markadelf]

Tixial

One afternoon, Tim's gang was wandering around the jungle, searching for other survivors in such a hostile environment, and they got a little too close for comfort to the stone colosseum...

Sharnille was leaving the coliseum after a humiliating defeat. There were eight of us! Eight of us! That T-Rax is ridiculous! she thought. What she needed was a tasty snack. Then she saw a group of humans. Oh look. The food has come to me! She cheerfully began chasing her prey.

[ArlEammon]

Naevar

Naevar examined the stars. . . The Orc's only tool for a somewhat long period of time in their civilization was a telescope. Odd for a culture that had no wheel, alphabet or almost anything resembling a large society. They did have medicinal tools, but that was it. No stone tools even, but their maker busied himself by taking care of them. He enjoyed the fact that they were beginning to prosper a little. Their lives weren't frantic and hasty like a colony of angry wet ants, they were simple people who lived their lives daily. Naevar's mind wandered into memories of the previous Cycle as he was fascinated by the brilliant force, exuberant in every star. The stars were pulling his spirit into The Before. He was gone only for a moment, but in that moment he lived thousands of years in The Before, simply looking from the Void into what came before, and then the memories were lost. He realized he was only looking into the time stream. There was no Before. However, Naevar could manipulate powerful energies through Primeval Time in order to recreate something that was only a possibility before.

As he then brought his attention back to the work of his own hands. The stars were quite interesting. Someone arranged it an interesting way but it wasn't the way he would do it. He put it out of his mind for now. The Constellations were perfect. Back in what Naevar thought was a previous cycle he may have been one of the magicians drawing on the stars made by a similar supernatural being for his magical powers. He wondered if he was alive, perhaps as another person back then. Perhaps not. He brought to the world a fabled Concept, the Primeval Past, as his mind was brought back to seeing the long remembered, yet long forgotten yesterdays before the first gods of this cycle were created. Such a thing likely did not exist, but he believed that it could have been. The Time Stream chose not for such a thing to occur.

Suddenly there was a burst of blue energy, like fire, forbidding him from entering the mortal sphere. He was content in the sky, among the stars. He rested on one of the stars, waiting for the world below to change.

Spoiler

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-4 AP spent on Fabled Concept : The Ways Of The Wizard AKA Primordial Magic
Wizardry is a unique type of magic. For those of you who know what the Thu'um/Dragon Shouts are from Skyrim, this is basically it, not 100 percent exactly the same, but basically, things, like Words that are manifested Primordial Power. I say things like Words, because these words are basically spoken words that infinitely repeat themselves in a quantum flux, making it able for them to be infinite but working finite, but effective results in the world around the wizard. These powers occasionally have new abilities, based on the fact that Wizards combine words for their spells. Only Wizards or gods can use The Ways Of The Wizard. Mastering spells beyond the lowest level usually takes a minimum of one year. Mastering spells of extremely powerful levels could take decades, a Human life time, or even many life times.
-4

[HalfTangible]

What is love? Baby don't hurt me, don't hurt me no more

Amoros' sleep was interrupted as he felt himself lifted up by his back. Someone had put an arm around him. She said something, but he didn't hear her. Blearily, he opened his eyes and looked.

She was a human. Amoros wasn't sure how the word came to his mind, but he did know it. She was a human woman, with messy brown hair. In one hand was a pitchfork, and she was covered in dirt and mud. A farmer, perhaps? He smiled up at her as she spoke again. She was asking if he was hurt. He shook his head - he wasn't. He could sense her relief, but it was tempered by confusion. Not surprising, really - a random naked man appeared in the middle of her field sleeping.

But that wasn't what concerned him - she was trembling. He took her hand in his, and for the first time his face fell as she winced. It had been a long day in the fields, it seemed - she was in pain. He could feel her aching all over. Amoros reached into himself and let his love for all things wash over her.

Her reaction was to gasp as relief flooded her body. She stopped shaking, and strength returned to her limbs. She worked alone, but that didn't mean she could never tire. And Amoros knew that what he'd done had been a rush.

She kissed his cheek, and he felt his heart jump. "Thank you." She whispered, a slight blush creeping into her cheeks. "I'll get you some clothes. Do you... need a place to stay?"

Amoros nodded.

He didn't really need a place to stay, but he could tell she wanted him to stay for a while, and he didn't want her to hurt anymore.

... She was attracted. He could feel it - the very beginnings of Eros had been there since she'd laid eyes upon him, but now the beginnings of Amor were fluttering in her heart. As she led him to her small home, he smiled. Whatever else he was meant to do, he would coax those beginnings into growing.

Love is a fire to be kindled within the heart.

Spoiler: AP

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Start 15
-1 Mundane Concept: Love (Amor/Eros)

-4 Create Fabled Concept: Romancy

Magic using the love in a person's heart. This magic cannot be used to harm others directly, but can invigorate and heal. The more love the user feels, the more powerful they become. The users of this magic can also sense and manipulate the emotions in others, particularly love and lust. This magic cannot actually create feelings in others - only encourage them. The user's emotions cannot be affected at all. The heart is not a vessel to be filled, but a fire to be kindled.

[Razade]

"What do you want?" T-Rax barked as he tripped one of the nine T-Rexes currently pursuing him (which happened to result in the tripped one getting headbutted by two of the T-Rexes behind it) and moved to dodge another. Raxmos is clearly visible above the arena.

The Weavers move to and fro in the din though sensing the divine presence they are swift to scuttle up the walls of the arena and into the stands. "This one speaks for Al'Zarub. This one has come to speak with the Brood Leader. Is that one it?" the Speech Weaver shouted, a discordent and almost painful sounding din, clearly not what the poor creature was designed for.

Ramesh gasped, waking to the cold of the night. He stared into the darkness for a moment, then taped a contraption on the side of his bed. The rare glowstone sent a soft light across the room, it's buzzing waking his wife Freyah.

"What is it, my husband?"

"Nothing, just a bad dream. ... I'm going to get some water."

The king of Greylith stepped out into the hallway and called for a servant to bring him his drink. Cooling his throat with the liquid, he steped out onto the balcony and observed the city streets. Unlike other nights, where the fires of the forge and the late-night workers could be heard, it was eerily silent.

Something caught his eye. In the direction of the city gates, he saw something... no, many somethings scurrying under the street lights. An oil lighter dropped his tools and ran from the crowd until he vanished into the night. Screams started to echo through the walls.

A guard came up behind Ramesh. "My Lord." He knelt. "Monsters have entered the city. They are not Rexes, they are... something else."

"I know." The king responded. "They are servants of Yen'Shi, keeper of the dead. Assemble your men and follow me. We must met them. Peacefully."

"Y-yes, my lord." The confused guard dashed back and called for the rest of the guard. Ramesh ordered for his servants to quickly dress him in his robes, and soon he was assembled with the best of the guard on the steps of the palace. The inner gates opened wide for the visitors...

The scuttling mass moves swiftly as the doors open not regarding the chaos they have inadvertently created or moving to accost anything that gets in their way, simply moving like water around obstacles until they have assembled before the stairs and the King. Hisses and clicks issued from the mass as the lone humanoid stepped forward, the others falling silent and motionless as the Speech Weaver affected a stilted and awkward bow as if its body was not meant to bend in such a manner. "This one speaks for Al'Anzur, is that one the head of this Brood? We have come to speak with the Greylith Hive."

[Elven Clans]
The Sur's Clan

The Clan could easily outrun their pursuers, their antelopes breed for speed beyond equal, but the relentness of the creatures chase would greatly diminish the Clan's capacity to deal with other potential dangers. Finally the elder's decided that it was wise to meet those that gave chase on a place of the Clan's choosing. The place they picked was a plain, it's short grass was good for the animal's yet it hid many dangers, loose sand hid crevices under the surface. The clan had used those on many hunts to trap larger beasts and keep them from moving. The elves knew where those were, and would evade them with ease, those following them wouldn't be so fortunate.

The clan's chariots formed a defensive perimeter, with most drivers holding the reins tightly preparing to bolt at the slightest provocation. The spear elves and archers, mounted at the chariot's back, were holding their weapons carefully preparing to loose rain on the dead if it proved necessary. One chariot though did advance toward the creature at the forefront. It was pulled by two white fured antelopes that had two pairs of horns each, interloping in symetrical spiral spears. At the chariots back there were two banners of terse colorful cloth that made a terrible sound when it cut the wind. The chariot was also embelished, the wood carved and decorated with elves hunting lions with bow and arrow. The chariot halted at a hundred paces. On the vehicle there were three elves. All dressed like the other elves, dark robes and with their faces hidden behind turbans, but even if the fabric and style was the same they appeared to be more prosperous. The archer an arrow resting against the horn arrow and five more held in his bow hand. The spearer grasped firmly the long pike with his right hand while the left was raised as in a martial salute and held a wooden circle slightly above the driver's head. The driver was clearly some sort of leader for his pose was regal. He was the one that spoke.

I am Anghal Sur. What are you?

The small posse continues to follow until the Clan stops, only the more Elven figure stepping forward sensing the tension in the air. "This one speaks for Al'Hiraz. It would speak with your Brood Leader. Al'Hiraz means it no harm, this one has brought a gift. May this one move forward to present it?" The Bone Weavers in the back remain motionless like statures, only the Speaker twitching and glancing about as if hearing invisible sounds.

[SpeedWitch]

Diplomacy is Dead

The scuttling mass moves swiftly as the doors open not regarding the chaos they have inadvertently created or moving to accost anything that gets in their way, simply moving like water around obstacles until they have assembled before the stairs and the King. Hisses and clicks issued from the mass as the lone humanoid stepped forward, the others falling silent and motionless as the Speech Weaver affected a stilted and awkward bow as if its body was not meant to bend in such a manner. "This one speaks for Al'Anzur, is that one the head of this Brood? We have come to speak with the Greylith Hive."

The king was nervous, thankfully not nearly as nervous as many of the soldiers scattered around him and the palace walls, but sweat was starting to show. "I am King Ramesh, ruler of the human city of Greylith. What business do you have here, people of Al'Anzur?"

[Messy Lamaniera]

The Dreaming

Morgorach slept comfortably in his throne of jade and white marble while his most loyal servants, the Lucid Dreams, went to work on the palace. It was with a startle and a powerful sound that Morgorach woke up, opening shadowed eyes to confront Lucien.

I have dreamed of conflict and battle, of bloodlust and martial pride, he said in his infinitely loud voice that shook Castle Dreaming to its core and woke up all other Lucid Dreams. The Mosaic darted from his throne to his Treasure Room, where he held the most precious belongings in Castle Dreaming. At one shelf there were 16 holy symbols, 16 effigies of all his brothers and sisters that he dreamed of. He took a golden disk in his sandy hands and wished himself awake.

The Waking World, inside Raxmo's Coliseum

"RAAAXMOOOS!" came the blood curling battlecry. "RAAAXMOOOS!" and Morgorach applauded silently from the stands as the warrior-dream who pledged himself to the god of strength battled nightmares with his giant curved blade. He was tall, strong, with a skin like teak, made out of stone and blood. His armor was a pure black carapace of obsidian. He waved, he sliced and chopped his way through a hundred enemies, sweat and blood on his brow.

Then Morgorach closed his hand and the dream was gone, forgotten. "That, and much more, is what the Dreamlands hold for you, Brother Raxmos" the Mosaic's eyes told the God of Strength, "If you but allow yourself to dream of it."

He then extends a hand to Raxmos that is filled to spilling with the dreams of warriors, fighters and soldiers, dreams of greater moral strength, of struggle and of conquest. Many of them looked reptilian, like T-Rexes, but not all of them... If Raxmos was to accept those dreams they would fight for him forever in the Bloody Arenas of the Dreamlands.

Spoiler: Crucnh

Show

Same offer, Raxmos. Come to the dreamlands, shape the world for but a 1 AP, and claim a dreamscape to you and yours to enjoy. Want nightmarish tests of strength? Want to see blood spilled in pristine white sand while gladiators of all races and shapes fight to the death? Then dream of them and they shall come to be.

[Markadelf]

The Dreaming

Morgorach slept comfortably in his throne of jade and white marble while his most loyal servants, the Lucid Dreams, went to work on the palace. It was with a startle and a powerful sound that Morgorach woke up, opening shadowed eyes to confront Lucien.

I have dreamed of conflict and battle, of bloodlust and martial pride, he said in his infinitely loud voice that shook Castle Dreaming to its core and woke up all other Lucid Dreams. The Mosaic darted from his throne to his Treasure Room, where he held the most precious belongings in Castle Dreaming. At one shelf there were 16 holy symbols, 16 effigies of all his brothers and sisters that he dreamed of. He took a golden disk in his sandy hands and wished himself awake.

The Waking World, inside Raxmo's Coliseum

"RAAAXMOOOS!" came the blood curling battlecry. "RAAAXMOOOS!" and Morgorach applauded silently from the stands as the warrior-dream who pledged himself to the god of strength battled nightmares with his giant curved blade. He was tall, strong, with a skin like teak, made out of stone and blood. His armor was a pure black carapace of obsidian. He waved, he sliced and chopped his way through a hundred enemies, sweat and blood on his brow.

Then Morgorach closed his hand and the dream was gone, forgotten. "That, and much more, is what the Dreamlands hold for you, Brother Raxmos" the Mosaic's eyes told the God of Strength, "If you but allow yourself to dream of it."

He then extends a hand to Raxmos that is filled to spilling with the dreams of warriors, fighters and soldiers, dreams of greater moral strength, of struggle and of conquest. Many of them looked reptilian, like T-Rexes, but not all of them... If Raxmos was to accept those dreams they would fight for him forever in the Bloody Arenas of the Dreamlands.

Spoiler: Crucnh

Show

Same offer, Raxmos. Come to the dreamlands, shape the world for but a 1 AP, and claim a dreamscape to you and yours to enjoy. Want nightmarish tests of strength? Want to see blood spilled in pristine white sand while gladiators of all races and shapes fight to the death? Then dream of them and they shall come to be.

Up Above
"..." The sphere was slent for a moment, "Why not? You can never have too much conflict. Battle lets our true values show." Raxmos then proceded to form a colosseum within the dream world. This coliseum was big enough to enable large strategic team battles. It was an battleground with combat unending.

The Weavers move to and fro in the din though sensing the divine presence they are swift to scuttle up the walls of the arena and into the stands. "This one speaks for Al'Zarub. This one has come to speak with the Brood Leader. Is that one it?" the Speech Weaver shouted, a discordent and almost painful sounding din, clearly not what the poor creature was designed for.

Down Below
As T-Rax quickly turned around and headbutted his closest pursuer, (This created another pileup this time consisting of the three T-Rexes right behind T-Rax because they were going too fast to stop when he turned around) he said, "That would be me, T-Rax, strongest of the T-Rexes. I repeat, what do you want?"

Spoiler

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Starting AP: 8
Alter Action: -1
End AP: 7

[mattsdelf]

Sharnille was leaving the coliseum after a humiliating defeat. There were eight of us! Eight of us! That T-Rax is ridiculous! she thought. What she needed was a tasty snack. Then she saw a group of humans. Oh look. The food has come to me! She cheerfully began chasing her prey.

Through some humiliating circumstance, the tyrannosaurus got scarily close before the humans even saw her coming. Tim screamed, "Run!" as he directed the gang toward the forest with his finger. If we can make it into the thicket... As it turns out, tyrannosaurus's are vastly better sprinters than humans.

[Razade]

Diplomacy is Dead


The king was nervous, thankfully not nearly as nervous as many of the soldiers scattered around him and the palace walls, but sweat was starting to show. "I am King Ramesh, ruler of the human city of Greylith. What business do you have here, people of Al'Anzur?"

"This one has business with you, Brood Leader Ramesh." The Speech Weaver entones, one of the motionless throng stepping forward to present a perhaps crudely woven cloak of spider web compared to the wonders of Man. "Life is fragile but Al'Anzur is eternal. We ask for two..." there is a pause, the willowy man turning as if to seek consul with the Bone Weavers. "Breeding pairs" it continues, motioning about itself. "Least your civilization one days crumbles, it will never be forgotten and that one's grand creations not be lost to the world."

Down Below
As T-Rax quickly turned around and headbutted his closest pursuer, (This created another pileup this time consisting of the three T-Rexes right behind T-Rax because they were going too fast to stop when he turned around) he said, "That would be me, T-Rax, strongest of the T-Rexes. I repeat, what do you want?"

"This one seeks two breeding pair of your kind to catalog your achievements and your history, least the other Gods seek to destroy all that live on this earth for Al'Zarub is Eternal." the small man speaks, offering an awkward bow. "This one can gauruntee the safety of these pairs and will return the pairs when Al'Zarub has finished."

[PwntQ]

"The Faithless will not be permitted to leave. For it is by our will they draw breath." Yen'Shi hisses, coiling up further from the lake below to loom larger in the bruised sky. "Those who wish to escape...the thought had not occured to me. Very well. The rest is yours to decree. The souls of the dead shall come here for a year and then will be permitted to leave. Our other Brethren may claim their dead when ever they so wish and the Faithless are -mine- for always. Should a mortal manage to pierce through the veil then they may fight for their loved ones and should a soul escape...they're free. Until they return." The Corpse beast chuckles, flicking his finger acting as a perch for the Phoenix God. [B]"A compromise. Surely this is agreeable."

"So be it. The fate of souls has decided."

With that Faust took flight and journeyed back to the void above the world, and saw how the world had changed in his absence. For time travels differently in other realms. But change is always pleasing to the Phoenix God. Though the fate of the faithless worried him, for there would be no change for them. So the god whispered to Prometheus, and the phoenix listened. And on the northern continent the great bird did land. For the first time since creation did Prometheus touch ground other than the floating isle, and set to work. Upon a large plateau overlooking the sea rose a pillared building of stone, dragged forth by powerful claws. When it had finished the building stood the size of a small hill, but plain, rough hewed and unadorned. Prometheus walked into its center and self immolated, entering its cycle of death and rebirth. But this time was different.

The flames from its molting spread throughout the building, transforming it. What was once only a rough hewed sloppy building had become a wonder, The First Temple. In time those who had seen the White Phoenix land would come and see it, and enter. Inside they found a hallowed hall, which contained the images and teachings of the gods, their laws and rules. There was space for all those who had already been created, and always would space be made for those to come. From here, the first priesthoods were born. For those who did not hold a faith were doomed to forever remain in the Twilight Grove.

After the building had transformed, the trio of phoenixes that accompanied Prometheus took his egg from the floor of the First Temple, and took it back to its place at Phoenix isle, where its cycle continued once more.

Spoiler: AP Spend

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Rollover +4AP
Blessing -1AP: The First Temple. Faust transformed the crude building into the first temple to the gods, so people may always know of them and not suffer the fate of being Faithless. Gods can control whats seen in their section, and new sections appear for new gods.

Create Advanced Concept -2AP: Priesthood. Priests are now officially a thing. How a gods priesthood works is up to them.

AP Left: 1AP

[SpeedWitch]

Diplomacy is Dead

"This one has business with you, Brood Leader Ramesh." The Speech Weaver entones, one of the motionless throng stepping forward to present a perhaps crudely woven cloak of spider web compared to the wonders of Man. "Life is fragile but Al'Anzur is eternal. We ask for two..." there is a pause, the willowy man turning as if to seek consul with the Bone Weavers. "Breeding pairs" it continues, motioning about itself. "Least your civilization one days crumbles, it will never be forgotten and that one's grand creations not be lost to the world."

The king stared at the Speech Weaver. "Breeding pairs? I... see... but you are entirely new to us, a civilization no human knows about—

A short gasp escape from Ramesh's lips as he remembered his dream...

Tens of thousands of skeletal spiders, caves diving deep into the Earth, but it is not Earth, and a large creature as big as the tallest mountains, speaking with the voices of the dead...

"—so why should we immediately trust you? Why do you want to preserve our race?"

[Razade]

[City of Greylith]

"Does that one wish to travel to the Hive?" The Speech Weaver inclines it's head in as best an imitation of a human's mannerisms as it can affect. The throng return to silence however as they huddle, some unspoken conversation only the dead hold place in moving between them before the Weavers turn in far to precise and choreographed unison. "Because all life is worthy of being remembered. It is the Will of the Breath that commands it and it is Al'Anzur's task to fulfill that which the Breath commands. This one was made to facilitate such a union. It is this one's only purpose. Al'Anzur is welcoming if that one wishes to walk it's webs. That one's Hive-Mates will be safe." If one of the dead could have a tone or if a Speech Weaver's face was capable of conveying the complex emotions of a living being concern would be what the mass felt. "Brood Lord Ramesh is...afraid?"

[SpeedWitch]

[City of Greylith]

"Does that one wish to travel to the Hive?" The Speech Weaver inclines it's head in as best an imitation of a human's mannerisms as it can affect. The throng return to silence however as they huddle, some unspoken conversation only the dead hold place in moving between them before the Weavers turn in far to precise and choreographed unison. "Because all life is worthy of being remembered. It is the Will of the Breath that commands it and it is Al'Anzur's task to fulfill that which the Breath commands. This one was made to facilitate such a union. It is this one's only purpose. Al'Anzur is welcoming if that one wishes to walk it's webs. That one's Hive-Mates will be safe." If one of the dead could have a tone or if a Speech Weaver's face was capable of conveying the complex emotions of a living being concern would be what the mass felt. "Brood Lord Ramesh is...afraid?"

"Do not insult the king!" The Royal Guard Captain shouted, his hand gripped on his sword hilt.

"Peace, Jakov!" Ramesh commanded, and the Captain loosened his grip. He turned his attention back to the Weavers. "Afraid? No, but cautious. You are the first sentient people that we have come across in all human history, save for the Rexes, and although negotiations with them have been nearly nonexistent, they have made known to us their cruelty. I cannot agree to such an offer until we learn more about your kind. So I respectfully decline... for now."

[Razade]

[City of Greylith]

The Bone Weaver holding the offered cloak gently sets it on the ground, not seeming to be concerned with the aggressive human though scuttles back to its collective swiftly once the task is complete. "This one is disappointed. Is there nothing it can do to assure the Brood Leader it has no ill intent? We have reached out to the T-Rax Hive as well. The Breath has reached out to all the other Hives in this manner in lands beyond the waters. We seek. Perhaps it can bring harmony to that one's Hive? Fighting only increases The Breath's desire to compile information. We would grieve if this Hive was lost."

[Messy Lamaniera]

The Waking World

Spoiler: Markadelf

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You still need to spend that 1 AP to forge Raxmos' Dreamscape, but I will go ahead and consider it done.

Morgorach was pleased with Raxmos' decision. Among most of his siblings he was one of the proudest and loudest, but also one of the simplest and most content. The Mosaic greatly respect that simplicity of mind.

With a courteous bow he then bid the God of Strength a silent farewell, which sounded alarmingly like "Till we see you in our dreams", and vanished.

The Waking World, at the Artic Continent, The Glass Cathedral

Lucien strode forward through snow and heavy winds with a professional determination. His eyes were frozen open and his nose was frozen shut, he had to breath through his teeth, which in turn were almost frozen together. Had he known this frozen hell was awaiting for him he might have sent other lesser Dreams do this bidding, but when Lord Mosaic asked him to deliver an important message in the Waking World Lucien got so excited he didn't even consider where might it be.

He looked up to the frozen crystalline peaks and shuddered. They didn't have snow and ice in the Dreamlands. Lucien much preferred the cozy eternal summer climate of Castle Dreaming.

*

Finally at the gates of Anlorem, as per the coordinates his lord has given him, Lucien knocks on the heavy transparent doors. By now he can't feel any of his fingers and he is sure some of them have snapped off on the hike here. "A-a-all p-present welcome t-the ambassador o-of Lord M-m-mosaic, Lucien of t-the L-lucid Dreams. M-may I e-e-enter, O G-great Anlorem? W-we come t-to speak t-to y-you in Mo-morgoraaa -aaATCHOO- Morgorach's name."

Spoiler: AP expenditure

Show

Starting AP: 2

Rollover +4 AP

Raxmos consolidated the giant Blood Arena within the Dreamscape of his and his people's domain.

Remaining AP: 6

[Markadelf]

"This one seeks two breeding pair of your kind to catalog your achievements and your history, least the other Gods seek to destroy all that live on this earth for Al'Zarub is Eternal." the small man speaks, offering an awkward bow. "This one can gauruntee the safety of these pairs and will return the pairs when Al'Zarub has finished."

"What?" T-Rax stopped. (The remaining 3 T-Rexes took the opportunity to surround him) "Such a thing is foolish. Only that which can survive on its own power has the right to exist. If your 'Al'Zarub' wants two Rexes he is fully welcome to take them by force. Here only the strong get what they want, and only the strong dare tread. If you have no wish for a contest of strength, begone! For that is all you will find here." The three T-Rexes began to charge T-Rax.

Through some humiliating circumstance, the tyrannosaurus got scarily close before the humans even saw her coming. Tim screamed, "Run!" as he directed the gang toward the forest with his finger. If we can make it into the thicket... As it turns out, tyrannosaurus's are vastly better sprinters than humans.

As Sharnille chased the humans, the seven other T-Rexes that had just lost to T-Rax joined the hunt. Phil, the largest among these was neck and neck with Sharnille in the race for food. "Trying to steal my prey, Phil?" "Your prey, is it? The prey belongs to the one who catches it, not the first to take up the chase."

[Razade]

"What?" T-Rax stopped. (The remaining 3 T-Rexes took the opportunity to surround him) "Such a thing is foolish. Only that which can survive on its own power has the right to exist. If your 'Al'Zarub' wants two Rexes he is fully welcome to take them by force. Here only the strong get what they want, and only the strong dare tread. If you have no wish for a contest of strength, begone! For that is all you will find here." The three T-Rexes began to charge T-Rax.

"This one understands. We are disappointed that one feels this way." The Speech Weaver murmured, the host scuttling away from the blood hungry dinos.

[mattsdelf]

As Sharnille chased the humans, the seven other T-Rexes that had just lost to T-Rax joined the hunt. Phil, the largest among these was neck and neck with Sharnille in the race for food. "Trying to steal my prey, Phil?" "Your prey, is it? The prey belongs to the one who catches it, not the first to take up the chase."

It was a mad dash for the treeline. Tim and about 15 or so of his gang were now running the deadly race, the hulking beasts gaining with every step of their tree trunk sized legs. One man tripped and landed in the grass-like ferns that covered the savanna. A few moments later, he was dino-chow before their very eyes. Tim split off from the group, and ran at a different angle into the woods. They had almost reached the treeline when the tyrannosaurs caught two more of them in their vast, gaping jaws, with their sharp, pointed teeth.

[mystic1110]

Finally at the gates of Anlorem, as per the coordinates his lord has given him, Lucien knocks on the heavy transparent doors. By now he can't feel any of his fingers and he is sure some of them have snapped off on the hike here. "A-a-all p-present welcome t-the ambassador o-of Lord M-m-mosaic, Lucien of t-the L-lucid Dreams. M-may I e-e-enter, O G-great Anlorem? W-we come t-to speak t-to y-you in Mo-morgoraaa -aaATCHOO- Morgorach's name."

The Glass Cathedral - After the Sun God's departure

For those inexperienced with hypothermia there is a very curious phenomena associated with it. The cold begins to confuse the brain, as if frost begins to accumulate on the synoptic nerves themselves. The body becomes confused and disoriented - and it becomes desperate to shut down the loss of heat from the extremities. The body acts on its own - the body and the brain are no longer on speaking terms, and the body induces the reflexive contraction of blood vessels.

Over time, however, the muscles necessary for inducing this constriction become exhausted and fail, causing warm blood to rush from the core to the extremities. This results in a kind of hot flash that makes victims of severe hypothermia — who are already confused and disoriented — feel as though they're burning up.

Thus on the brink of death by winter, one can find summer.

Balance.

Nonetheless, as Lucien begins to find warmth in the cold embrace of the icy peak, the transparent doors of the Cathedral open. Rushing inside, he would notice that he would no longer feel cold. Oh, he would still feel cold, but the flurry of snow and wind were far behind him. He could still see the blizzard through the walls. He could still feel it in his skin.

The ice gears began to move as the structure rotated and spoke to him in a voice utterly devoid of social construction - it was a voice of construction itself; not the manly grind of gears or womanly hum of pistons: just perfect icy movement:

Welcome Ambassador.

[Markadelf]

It was a mad dash for the treeline. Tim and about 15 or so of his gang were now running the deadly race, the hulking beasts gaining with every step of their tree trunk sized legs. One man tripped and landed in the grass-like ferns that covered the savanna. A few moments later, he was dino-chow before their very eyes. Tim split off from the group, and ran at a different angle into the woods. They had almost reached the treeline when the tyrannosaurs caught two more of them in their vast, gaping jaws, with their sharp, pointed teeth.

"I'll take the one that abandoned his friends. By Raxmos, I hate such cowards," Phil said. "Kay, I'll chase down the others," Sharnille said as the two parted ways. The rest of the T-Rexes went after the large group.

[mattsdelf]

"I'll take the one that abandoned his friends. By Raxmos, I hate such cowards," Phil said. "Kay, I'll chase down the others," Sharnille said as the two parted ways. The rest of the T-Rexes went after the large group.

And so it was that the remaining humans reached the treeline. Tim extended a hand, and a vine reached out and took hold of it. Tim pulled himself up, and swung through the jungle, vine to vine. It was more comfortable than running. He was pleased to see that the others had caught on to his idea, and were using their magic to move with the vines as well. Many of them pulled themselves to a safer height in the trees, where the tyrannosaurs couldn't reach them. A smile grew across Tim's face, as he swung on his vine in a loop, getting behind and above the one they called Phil. He jumped down onto its back, knowing that neither its tail nor its arms could reach him there. He clung on for dear life, and pulled himself up to Phil's neck. "Easy, big guy." He reached both of his arms out, and brought vines in to tether the beast. They caught. The T-Rex came to an abrupt stop with the jerk of the vines, which broke several vines, and was almost enough to send Tim flying. But now that he had stopped it was too late. All at once, several vines came in, looping around Phil's neck, torso, tail, arms and legs. He was very quickly caught in a mass of vines, which lifted him from the ground and immobilized him. The others had managed to trip one of their pursuers, and the T-Rexes found the dense forest hard to maneuver. They had to break many of the smaller trees down, run through ferns and shrubs, and make turns to navigate the trees they couldn't charge through.

[Messy Lamaniera]

Welcome Ambassador.

The Waking World

Lucien shakes the heavy snow from his raven hair and readjusts his wiry glasses on his pointy ears. "We thank you, Great Anlorem. The dark and icy winds cut through dreamed flesh just as well as through solid stuff."

Lucien straightens his back. Although still half-frozen he is much more recomposed now. He scoff a block of frozen snot from his throat before speaking next "Anlorem, our lord Morgorach, your brother, has been made aware through the charts of Dreaming that your greatness has never dreamed or been dreamed about. Lord Mosaic considers that a disservice to your labor and the beautiful gift that is the cold you craft. He offers you and any of yours an Embassy in the... Dreamlands..."

"Well, there goes my eternally sunny summer days..."

Recomposing himself, Lucien resumes. "The Dreamscape will be shaped according to your will and it shall, slowly, be known to other dreams and dreamers in the Dreamlands. That will cause, given time, all to know and better appreciate the gifts you have given the world. Is that in the realms of your interest, O Great Anlorem?"

Lucien then produces a small chunk of luminescent rock from his pockets and places it upon the crystalline ground."In any case my master has entrusted me to give you this gift, O Great Cathedral. It's a blessing of Greyl, grown in the gardens of Castle Dreaming. Any who partake of it may dream awake and visit the Dreamlands whenever they wish. My Lord thought it would be useful to one such as yourself who doesn't sleep so you could visit the Dreamlands for yourself." He then bows profusely and awaits the automaton's answer.

Spoiler

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The blessed item is a dream stone, the Dreamwake Stone which can be consumed and causes all that ingest or use of its powder to dream for a short period of time like they were in a deep slumber. Even one such as Anlorem might find it useful if it has wishes to visit the land of dreams.

Alos, if Anlorem wishes to shape the Dreamlands, it may do so by spending a mere 1 AP point. The Haven shall be however it wishes it to be and, by the rules of the land, is inviolable. Although Dreamers may come and go from it freely, by their will, which might make fears turn into nightmares and joys turn into dreams.

Also, do not worry about Lucien. He is but a dream and no dream can dream about its own death.

[Markadelf]

And so it was that the remaining humans reached the treeline. Tim extended a hand, and a vine reached out and took hold of it. Tim pulled himself up, and swung through the jungle, vine to vine. It was more comfortable than running. He was pleased to see that the others had caught on to his idea, and were using their magic to move with the vines as well. Many of them pulled themselves to a safer height in the trees, where the tyrannosaurs couldn't reach them. A smile grew across Tim's face, as he swung on his vine in a loop, getting behind and above the one they called Phil. He jumped down onto its back, knowing that neither its tail nor its arms could reach him there. He clung on for dear life, and pulled himself up to Phil's neck. "Easy, big guy." He reached both of his arms out, and brought vines in to tether the beast. They caught. The T-Rex came to an abrupt stop with the jerk of the vines, which broke several vines, and was almost enough to send Tim flying. But now that he had stopped it was too late. All at once, several vines came in, looping around Phil's neck, torso, tail, arms and legs. He was very quickly caught in a mass of vines, which lifted him from the ground and immobilized him. The others had managed to trip one of their pursuers, and the T-Rexes found the dense forest hard to maneuver. They had to break many of the smaller trees down, run through ferns and shrubs, and make turns to navigate the trees they couldn't charge through.

In the Jungle
"Well crud," Phil said, "Guess today is not my day, now is it?" Phil sighed, resigning himself to whatever his fate might be.

The Mighty Jungle
Sharnille sighed as shell fell and hit her face on the ground, Well, crud, she thought as she slowly began to attempt to rise. The other T-rexes began to scatter, deeming this prey to be worth less than the effort it would take to chase them further into the thicket.

[mystic1110]

The Glass Cathedral speaks:

My apparent Sibling is Ingenious. I have never considered to create my own market, to immediately monopolize it, to offer discounted incentives for others to invest in my own market and then reap the benefits of their investment.

There is a pause, and Lucien can see the sun overhead through the ice spires not even a little distorted, so perfert is the formation of the ice.

The offer is generous and your gift is accepted. Please leave it on the floor. However, I must convey to you that it is, largely pointless. All will know my winters touch and all will soon know that they may monetize it. There is no need for me to dream and no need for winter to touch dreams.

Another brief pause.

Unless, of course your Lord wishes for me to dream? For my touch to have a small claim upon your Lord's domain?

[Messy Lamaniera]

Unless, of course your Lord wishes for me to dream? For my touch to have a small claim upon your Lord's domain?

Lucien is much more at ease now, seeing that there is a reason behind Anlorem. Many other siblings of his master are quite more troublesome. "Well, your... Cathedralness, the point is that dreams don't belong to anyone but themselves. What my Lord desires is of no consequence here, albeit his will is manifest nonetheless. What you would gain with it, however, is beyond monetary value."

Lucien adjusts his glasses in a very self-confident manner. "My Lord Mosaic is also an agent of prophesy and he has seen many possible futures by dreamwalking. He has sent me here because he has seen two divergent futures for you, O Great Cathedral. Which they are he has not said, but he has warned me that it will be in your deepest interest to make business with the Dreamlands. After all you have so little to lose, a mere insignificant fraction of your power just to shape it to your will, but so much to gain. The denizens of the Dreamland have never before seen snow or ice before, being dreams of summer nights and hot arid deserts. Does it not disturb someone as meticulous as your greatness to let that pass?"

"Furthermore you should not fear any transgression, for while inside the Dreamrealms none may harm either god or mortal. So your investment is ultimately secure." Lucien feels almost smug with himself, feeling quite charming with his eloquent vocabulary. He very rarely gets to use it. In Castle Dreaming silence is the custom.

Spoiler: Cmon Mystic

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Won't you shake a poor sinner's hand?