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You stand on the rocky beach of the Paradise Island, Afu. Here, there is no single sun. The island is brightly illuminated from all directions. The climate of Afu is always warm. The ocean breeze is refreshing.
You stand before the Giant Eunok. The father of a multitude of gods and goddesses. Eunok, who hatched from the primordial egg. Who breathed life in the universe. Who diverted the sacred river of Muna so it flooded the empty world below. Who conquered the river's guardian, a colossal reptilian beast, whose skeleton now serves as the base of Afu. The ruby that is encrusted in Eunok's arm was once the beast's single eye. He is tall and handsome, yet savage. He has the horns of a bull and a thick red mane. He is dressed in hides and wears bracers and boots. He is towering and somewhat intimidating; even those of you who can shapechange are always dwarfed by his size.
You kneel before this mighty being. But Eunok is humble. He asks you to stand up. He doesn't want to be revered by your kind, as a god is revered by the mortal Men. You will pay respect to him as is fitting for one's father, but no more. Eunok informs you that before you can join the Pantheon and call yourself a full deity, you must embark on a quest that will lead you in the lands of the humans. You will not return before having discovered the secrets of your soul and overcome a fitting challenge. The nature of your quest will only be revealed once you are there.
Eunok prepares to send you accomplish your tasks on the Isles of Dawn. He warns you that not all gods who go through this ordeal survive. He also tells you that killing a god during the tests is forbidden; if such a thing was to happen, the one responsible would be exiled forever from Afu. Suddenly, the world around you becomes blurry and the ground shakes under your feet. You feel like you slipped and are falling into a bottomless pit. A moment later, you find yourself in an unknown region, under a low, red sun.
((OOC: You have approximately one week to claim your domain and craft a totem. You may also brand followers. You are not forbidden from interacting with each other, although two gods can't team up to complete their quests.))
Your Friendly Neighborhood Evil Overlord
Last edited by Kaiser Omnik : 06-30-2009 at 11:47 AM.
Garland fell, invisible and intangile into a great temple of chanting mages.
Garland awakes on the altar. The Stones surrounding Garland stand upright, and he slowly gets up from the altar in front of all of the stunned magicians.
He looks around at the crowd of gasping people, who are now worshiping him. He tells them all to stop, and instead asks them to revere him as a teacher and to honor him only as a wiseman. Garland receives an outstanding praise from all of the magicians there who feel his power, and he brands them all his students.
Ravarthis stared around in wonder at the beautiful land he had arrived in. Indeed Eunok was mighty indeed to have crafted such a thing. Before him stood the sea, resplendent in the evening sunlight. Golden sands lined the islands beach and a forest of tropical trees stood behind him. A single river poured out into the ocean to his left with many coloured fish swimming up and down its length, jumping in the rapids and flowing out to sea. Ravarthis frowned though for there was something wrong.
This was the Crescent Island home of the gateway to the Underworld, the Chimdrith. He had come here to claim his right to rule over death but there was more than that, he was troubled, confused by the feeling of the land. Following the river into the mainland he eventually came to a town built upon the entrance to the gate and saw what was wrong. The Chimdrith stood wide open, a gaping chasm in the ground from which the spirits of the dead walked forth. The dead moved freely here walking out into the mortal world, there numbers small as the world was knew but free nonetheless. It was clear to Ravarthis what the task before him was. He would journey into the Underworld and claim the throne of bone for himself, then he would end the waking of the dead. No man would freely leave his domain.
Ravarthis stood before the people of the Town and called to them filling them with awe. He proclaimed that he would lead 100 of their finest men into the Underworld to end the undeath that plagued the island. They would banish the Chivrik, the beast that dwelt on the throne of bone and claim the Crescent Island in his name. The people rejoiced for they had never before seen a God before and saw it as an honour to serve him. These became his first believers and of the 100 ten would become his first true chosen.
Ravarthis lead the 100 men down through the Chimdrith into the Underworld. It was an endless cavern beneath the land made of black obsidian from which no light was reflected. A solitary flame was in the Subterranean sky, a purple ball of fire that light up the scant detail that stood upon the Obsidian. Before him was a forest made of Steel trees each covered in thorns, hideous compared to those above. Descending down the jagged rock face towards the forest Ravarthis and his men caught their first glimpse of the River of lost souls, a trial they would have to cross if they were to reach The Last Gate and the Throne of Bone. They walked into the forest each man armed with a javelin made of thunder and wreathing them with armour made of flames, invocations that he could still cast despite lacking his full power. Ravarthis himself wore armour made of Ice and wielded an Axe created from frozen air. But before the first weapon was used he lost his first 5 men.
The trees leaned down the branches sweeping at the men, impaling those not fast enough to move aside. Their roots whipped up out of the ground dragging men to an obsidian grave. Ravarthis pushed on hacking at branches and burning all that opposed him with arcane fire. The chill touch of his weapon froze the very water of the trees shattering them and the Javelins of thunder rent them from the earth. As the men began to clear the far side of the forest a lone root grabbed Ravarthis by the leg and pulled him into the ground. He chopped off his own leg to avoid death then felled the tree in a single blow. Cutting a length of wood from its trunk he fashioned himself a new leg made of the fiendish, thorny steel then polymorphed it to living steel that replaced his lost limb.
Iorus took his father's words to heart, but decided for the moment to put off his quest. For four days and four nights, he traveled among the great civilizations of the land, the Halan, the Onok and the Baric, and drank with them, broke bread with them, danced and sang at their festivals, not letting them know of his presence. He sought out the hundred most interesting to him. He chose the beautiful, the passionate, those that burned with an inner fire. To them, he makes love, and delivers a kiss which brands them as his own.
When Korath awoke, something seemed different. It took him a moment to realize what it was: He was a child! No longer the adult he had been, he was not a mere child of 7. While this was most annoying, he didn't know what he could do about it so he decided to look at his surroundings.
Looking around, he noticed he was by the muddy bank of a wide river. IN the distance, forest covered mountains could be see. As he searched, he noticed a sound. Someone was crying.
After searching, he found the source of the noise. A young girl about his "own" age was sitting in the mud looking at broken pottery. The pottery had contained grain, which was now strewn over the ground. When she saw Korath, she sniffed and stammered:
It's broken! I saw a snake and it startled me, so I dropped the grain. Now we won't have anything to eat. We don't have enough money to buy more, and mother is too sick to earn anything.
Korath was moved to pity: Even though she was a mere mortal and he a god, he never could stand to see a child cry. So, he gathered up the pieces. As he did, he noticed that the clay had interesting patterns in the texture. He stood there for a moment lost in appreciation before shaking his head.
Taking the pieces, he placed mud from the river to hold them in place. When the mud dried, it was enough (with a little divine help, but she didn't need to know that) to hold the jug in place. Scooping up as much grain as he could, he put it back in the container.
Come, let me help you take this home.
Staggering a little under the weight (why was this thing so heavy, anyways?) Korath followed her home. When he got there, he noticed the hut had been well built once but was falling into disrepair. When he asked, the girl (whose name was Honua he soon found out) what happended.
Bandits killed my father and injured mother. I was too young to remember, but the hurt her terribly. She does the best she can, but this last year she started coughing blood.
Korath went inside and greeted the older women. She as indeed very sick and wary of him. Korath soon managed to convince her he wasn't a threat. He offered to do what repairs he could around the house as well as work if they would feed and shelter him. The old women soon agreed.
Within a month, Korath had decorated the inside of the hut with bright colors to cheer her up. He had also fashioned a kiln to make pottery with, so that they would have some form of income.
It took time to create a good pot, especially since he couldn't help but decorate them, but he finally created one to his satisfaction. Taking it into the hut to show them, there was a flash...
Thanks to Edwin for the Avatar!
The venomous goddess opted not to make herself a spectacle to the mortals of the islands. Instead, she decided to remain in the shadows and reveal herself to the dark underbelly of the surrounding civilizations. Simple enough, but what of the quest?
She wandered through the cold, dark forests, meditating on this dilemma. It was not long before she came upon a small , disappointingly run-down village, seemingly isolated from the greater civilizations of the surrounding lands. Carefully, she made her way into the various buildings. Most were abandoned and in various stages of disrepair. After a thorough search, she found that this long dead village might have blossomed into a great nation like the others, save for a calamity that struck it when it was still young. Deciding to rest, she dipped her clawed feet into a nearby river and took a drink, immediately tasting the foul poisons seeping into the water.
Ahmua followed the river upstream until it came to a large, dark cave. The water was brimming with a viscous mucous-like slime. She could hear something moving inside the cave, and she cautiously made her way forward.
...Sand. Sun. Wind. More sand. Cliff. I can hear the sea - and someone crying. Well, that's about all that I can tell of my surroundings. I get up off the ground, shaking the sand out of my clothes and stretching. I've got my wits and... well, my wits. This is going to be fun. I start to lazily amble towards the sound of crying.
Mera looked out to sea, tears running down her cheeks. Behind her, the small village burned to ash, the stench of death tainting the wind. She'd been lucky to survive at all: the raiders hadn't found her hiding place, seemingly content with killing her parents and torching the house. There was nothing left for her now - but she'd survive! She'd find a way to avenge her people, and she wouldn't give up.
"Nice place you got here. Welllll, except for the burning rubble, but that's no problem, really." Mera screamed, turning to find a young man lounging next to her. He gave her a flash of ivory teeth, grinning in an innocent way. "Just look at this place! Perfect center for land and sea trade, a temperate oasis in this desert, large enough to harbor a city beneath the cliff - in fact, this could be an almost impenetrable position! I like it here, I like it a lot. Now, I'd need some support from a neighboring country or something of the like to build a proper city here, but - ow! What was that for?" He held his reddening cheek gingerly as Mera unloaded all her anger and grief onto him. "Are you heartless? This used to be my home - and now it's ruined! My home's been destroyed, my family and friends are all dead, and now you're here yammering on about how you want to... build a city... over my home..." The man put a finger to her lips as she started to break down again. "Hey. Calm down - I didn't know all that. Sorry for upsetting you, but what I said is true. This could be the site for the greatest city of all time, and since you seem to own this vale I'll ask your permission. May I seek to build the world's finest city here?" Mera stood stunned for a moment - him asking her permission? This was nonsense... and yet there was something about this man that made her want to trust him, his handsome features and his innocent grin. She nodded, and he sprang up. "Wonderful! Allow me to introduce myself - I am The Duke." "You're a duke? You're noble?" "No, you're not paying attention. I'm The Duke. Just... The Duke. Though I am pretty noble, if I don't say so myself." Mera laughed, for the first time in a while - there was something about him, again, that made her feel at ease. "I'm Mera, Duke, last of the Makid tribe." "So, Mera last of the Makid tribe, shall we journey together? I will seek to use any nearby nations to build this city - and I can promise you adventure, romance, guile and adventure. For... I believe you have a dream in your heart." Mera frowned. "Is that important?" "With me, it is."
Jeric sat by the road, chewing on a pomegranate. He'd finally done it - he'd sold the forge and gone off to see the world. Well, there was no turning back now. He'd been told at the last inn that the Makid tribe might hold him for a night or two, an important resting place on the way to Lliath. His sharp ears heard someone coming, and he looked down the road.
They crested the ridge a couple of moments later, and he got a good look at them. One was a fair-skinned youth, unarmed and well-dressed, a noble of some sort obviously. The other must be his slave girl, dressed in the simple furs and un-dyed cloth of one of the coastal tribes, and pleasing to the eye. He hailed them with a cheerful wave. "Hullo! Were might you be heading to?" The noble gave him a grin, changing his course until he was standing by Jeric. "I'm not sure of it myself. Wherever I could find civilization, for I'm lost in these lands. But more to the point, where are you going?" Jeric winked at the nobleman and grinned. "Oh, I'm wandering - I used to be a humble smith, but it was always my dream to see more of the world." "Really?" Suddenly the noble looked interested indeed. "Well then, I'm interested in traveling with anyone who's chasing their dreams. Where are you headed to now?" "Oh, I'm roving to the lands of the Makid. They say their hospitality is legendary." The slave shook her head, sorrow etched in her face. "My people were set upon by raiders - the Makid are gone, burning by the sea. I am Mera, last of the Makid." It took Jeric a moment to find his voice. "I'm... sorrowful for your loss, Mera of the Makid. Since it seems my route to Lliath is ruined, it seems I must head to Antara instead - it's a civilized country, but a bit too much so for my tastes. However, you should find it worthy of your attention, my good sir." The noble grinned again as he sat down next to Jeric. "Yes indeed. Allow me to introduce myself - I'm The Duke, and my journeys all started when..."
The campfire was only smoldering in the early hours of the morning, as Mera slept under Jeric's cloak and Jeric himself slept, his head resting on the trunk of a tree. I never slept, though - funny thing in one so interested in dreams. I just paced around the campfire, thinking.
There was, in theory, a place for everything. A realm of sheer fire, a realm of endless night - there was in potential a place for anything. Why not a land of dreams? One could anchor it, bind it to the world, rule it. Yes!
I have some divine power - thanks, Dad - and I focused, turning the universe by a half-twist
and suddenly everything is everything and nothing at all and swirling chaos everything in potential could be everything can be everything always changing never logical never playing by the rules chessboard now labyrinth now dead house and suddenly a stately pleasure dome of gold
and i said let there be order let there be chaos under rules let the dreams be shaped to mortal will let the nightmares and goblins and promises and hopes and dreams be under my dominion
and it laughed at me and changed all the rules when i wasn't looking mocked me said it needed no king but i could anchor it to the world and make it mine and i laughed in secret to myself and i needed the anchor to make it order and wonder not endless chaos
And suddenly I was propelled at quite a fast speed into a tree, waking both Jeric and Mera. Sometimes immortality hurts.
The shouts of pursuit rang out behind Garrin as he raced down the alleyways, the bread cradled carefully in his arm. It seemed eternal, racing over rooftops and down dark streets, but finally he settled down and let the pursuit fade away. He ate the bread hungrily, the first food he'd had in days.
Then someone yelled out, the watch whistle blew again, and he was running for his life again, down into the bazaar, dancing between stalls and between yelling crowds. Hopefully he'd be lost - but then the pursuit started to catch up, and he ducked away into a tailor's stall. The watchmen continued running past, and he breathed a sigh of relief; then he realized that all four people in the stall were staring at him. A fair-skinned noble with one of Antara's fine thin-bladed swords at his side, a woman wearing the blue silk of a courtesan and a tall, well-built man trying on a tunic and a pair of trousers, not to mention the surprised tailor. Garrin stammered out, "Ah... wrong stall?" The tailor leaped up and started to move to the door, almost certainly to call the police - and then the nobleman grabbed the tailor's sleeve and gave him the kind of grin that a cat gives to a mouse. "Sit down." Garrin started to bolt out the door, until the nobleman grabbed his collar and hauled him back with surprising strength. "No, I don't think you're going anywhere. You're a thief, aren't you?" Garrin looked into his eyes in fright - good Sahedrin, they were cat's eyes - and began to stammer again. "I hadn't eaten in days and I can't find work and it was just some bread and I was starving." The noble looked closer into his eyes, lowering his face until it was barely an inch away from Garrin's face - before giving a triumphant yelp that scared Garrin half to death. "You've got something that's keeping you going - some hope... no, some quest, isn't it? Something that's worth stealing food over, something that you want more than anything." Garrin's mouth fell open in shock. "How'd you know?" The noble grinned, like a cat playing with a mouse. "Oh, I'm good at reading faces. Really good." Keeping a tight grip on Garrin's collar, he turned to the merchant. "Now, how much did you want for the silks, the striking red-and-black vest and the tunic and trousers?"
I sat back, watching Garrin demolish the food on his plate. Mera was eating some fish - reminded her of home, I guess - while Jeric tore into his roast, but Garrin just ate anything I put in front of him. I flipped a golden coin to the astounded waiter - apparently only the richest of rich have gold here - and leaned forward, looking at my three companions.
"So, let me sum up for all of us. There's the last of the Makid tribe, her goal is to keep her people's memories alive; there's the wandering smith, whose dream is to see the world; and there's the orphaned thief who wants to be a swordsman; lastly the amazing man who wants to create the grandest city in the world." And control the realm of dream, I added silently. Create my anchor.
"Now, Antara is one of the most civilized countries within leagues. So, we'll use the Antaran "Emperor" to build the city for us - and with his military might and dominance of the region, the other countries will be forced to pitch in. Are we all committed?" "Maybe... this city will be the memorial for my people. I will aid you until the end, Duke." "I'll stand by her - simply because I like you all. There's a charm about you, Duke, and I have a feeling I'll find more adventure standing by you then just wandering." "Just keep feeding me and I'll do whatever you want." "Excellent. Soon, we'll convince the Emperor to build a grand city by the coast." "And how do you plan to get admittance to the Emperor, and convince him to build the city? It's a grand expense, and I'm wondering how you'll do it." "Well, it starts with you selling me in the slave markets." Garrin choked on his food, Mera's jaw dropped and Jeric just stared at me.
By Eunok, I live for moments like that.
-build that wall and build it strong-
Kasanip - best artist; Rarity - best smile; Thanqol - good Question
Originally Posted by PhoeKun
Raz, you scoundrel! You planned this!
Originally Posted by BladeofObliviom
Great, and now I'm imagining what Raz's profile on a dating site would look like. "Must be okay with veils."
Originally Posted by Kasanip
I don't think there is such a time to have veils that it is not the fault of Raz_Fox.
Originally Posted by Dervag
It's a freaking Romulan dump truck. The Romulans are no more likely to build an unarmed warp-capable ship than they are to become a hippy commune.
Ravarthis looked about him and saw that of the 100 men he had already lost 32 within the forest. Turning to the River he began to wade through its shallows, the first of his men followed but was instantly struck down, screaming in pain he fell into the river. The river was death to mortals and so even if Ravarthis could swim its length safely he would have to go on alone. So coming back out of the river he took his axe and began chopping up the trees that had been felled in the passage through the forest. From them he fashioned longboats with which his men could sail the river and oars.
They sailed across the great river and all seemed well but as they reached the halfway point the water boiled and burned. The boats beginning to break Ravarthis summoned up a great wind to speed them across the water. They flew with great speed but alas one of the boats was too slow and sank beneath the waves taking another 15 men with it.
Pulling the boats ashore Ravarthis noticed a great snake with a long silver tongue approach him from a pass through the Obsidian cliffs that lay at this side of the river. "I am the serpent of the silver tongue" spoke the snake. "Answer my riddles and I shall let you pass"
Ravarthis accepted this challenge and the contest began. "The rich need it The poor have it If you eat it you will die Who am I? "
"A simple riddle the answer is nothing" replied Ravrthis.
The serpent cackled and began to speak again
"I turn around once. What is out will not get in. I turn around again. What is in will not get out. What am I?" to which he replied "A key" The riddle contest went on like this and soon he realised that the snake would never have a last riddle. So he proposed a change in game. Pouring words of flatery upon the snake they agreed that Ravarthis would have on hour to produce a riddle to which the snake could not answer if he was to be declared the winner.
The hour over he returned to the snake with his hood over his head and said. "The God Ravarthis has only of these, made of flesh and blood. Through which he sees many a things but cannot see a side of his nose. The riddle was poor and lacked fluidity but the snake was puzzled. Confused by the riddles meaning it couldn't answer and so Ravarthis won, pulling down his hood to reveal that he had gouged out one of his eyes and replaced it with an eye made of the foul wood of the forest, cut from one of his boats.
Tz'Aren descended to his region. In fear and awe of the Giant skeletal mass they bowed down to worship him. They brought him 100 small children. All of the children were less then a summers old. He held the newborns who simply looked at him in awe more curious then afraid. A dark glow came around the children. Tz'Aren set them down. "They will grow faster then any man before them and live much longer, they will guide your people to become stronger and they will teach you many things of magic and war. Your barbaric tribe will rule under thier leadership."
Brand People, the Karond.
Tz'Aren then disappeared to his home realm. His quest could wait until his new tribe had advanced enough to help him with such things. In the center of the room was a single feather kept inside glass. This feather was all that remained of his former self. Tz'Aren was not always a skeleton. He was once a handsome Giant gifted with wings. His wings were both a gift and a curse. With the made him unique a one of a kind soul however they also installed jealousy in those of his brethren. He was killed with a poisonous arrow. However he didn't die, or at-least not in the traditional sense. He had become monstrous caught in-between life and death itself. It led him to trust very few of his brothers and sisters as he does not know who shot the arrow.
High Priest of the Fellowship of Xykon's Blade.
Member of below-average standing in the Class-Maker Guild.
Garland learns of the great Demon Prince Karmoth forcing the people of the town to worship him. Karmoth the Demon Prince was known for having powers so great that the primitive shaman mages of this country of Sarumion almost knew for certain that he was a god. The Demon Prince Karmoth had murdered an entire Dragon Clan singlehandedly, and created the infamous Forbidden Necropolis.
Garland began to ward the city of Sarumion from the demons of the Necropolis and how to teach the people inside more powerful magic. First, he taught them ritualistic magic, and then, he taught some evocation. Throughout the months, up until a year, Garland succesfuly lead the resistance against Karmoth's regime, suffering few losses.
Garland's leadership eventually lead to a Mage's guild being built in the city.
Ril-Cer looked around the town he had landed in. He saw little of interest; simple things, like a bakery, a farm, and a blacksmith. Nothing that could help him on his quest. He felt a spark of power in the town, though. Somewhere, there was...he was unsure, but a power similar to his own. The power to reshape the world with his thoughts. He disguised his eyes to look like those of humans with a small illusion, and then set out, walking through the brown cobblestone streets to find where this power came from.
He came to a bright, shining building. Unlike the rest of the city, the building was clean, and looked new. The sign on the top of the building read "Mage's Guild." Ril-Cer knew the power he felt was coming from here, so walked in. Inside, he saw a middle aged man, wielding a staff and wearing brown robes. There was not much power in him, but Ril-Cer could sense that he desired more, and that was enough.
What is it that you do here?
I practice Magic.
What is Magic?
Magic is controlling the world with your thoughts, your will. You take the power from within, and use it to create something far greater in the real world.
Ril-Cer now knew what his power was called in the language of the humans; Magic. He knew that it was his destiny to control it, and use it to control the lands; he considered physical strength to be useless in the face of arcane power.
I am seeking out the strongest source of Magic in an attempt to control it as my own. If you could follow me, you would be greatly rewarded. With a flash, Ril-Cer revealed his glowing yellow eyes. The mage jumped back with suprise and pointed his staff at Ril-Cer, but Ril-Cer began to explain. I am a Deity, cast down by my father Eunok in order to claim my domain and shape the world. I can see power in you, and I need your knowledge of this world.
Hmm... a tempting offer. Fine, I will join you. My name is Andale Kinstone. I will seek out some of my companions; the honor of being disciples of a God is not one they will pass up.
After a while, Andale returned with six other mages, from a venerable old sage hunched over to a young boy of only 15, bright eyed and naive. Ril-Cer sensed that they all had some Magical aptitude, so he was content to have them. Ril-Cer turned towards the sage.
Sage, do you know where the greatest source of magic on this island is?
Of course I do! I've lived here for 70 long years! The greatest source of magic on this island is the ancient gold dragon Magetooth. He lives in the caves on the tallest mountain on this island.
Very well. We will set out tomorrow to find him, and then we will defeat him.
D..defeat him? He has lived for a thousand years! His power dwarfs all of our powers combined!
His power may be greater than yours, but it is not greater than mine! When he spoke the word "not", a magical explosion blasted a five foot wide hole in the wall of the mage's guild.
Ril-Cer left, and waited outside the city, staring at the mountain, sensing the great presence of the dragon. Night came and went. The next morning, he went back to the mage's guild. All seven mages were outside, carrying their staves and backpacks filled with food, scrolls, and various supplies. Ril-Cer nodded, and then they set off on the trail, headed for the mountain.
Last edited by Milskidasith : 06-30-2009 at 12:50 PM.
The snake lead Ravarthis and his remaining me through the maze of cliffs and chasms till they reached a great wall in which there was a gate and an altar. This was the Gate of eternity and beyond it was the chamber in which the throne of bone and the last gate lay. But the Gate of Eternity demanded a sacrifice of blood to be paid at the alter before it would open.
Ravarthis chose the oldest most wounded man from amongst his soldiers and sacrificed him but this wouldn't appease the gate. Next he chose the youngest, healthiest of his men, but this wouldn't appease the gate. Next he broke open one of the boats they had brought from the river and poured the woods life blood into the alter, but this wouldn't appease the gate. Accepting the truth Ravarthis cut off his arm and flesh from his chest pouring them into the alter and replacing them with the devil wood about his body until at last the gate was appeased and it began to swing open.
Not even Ravarthis was prepared for what lay beyond the gate. The chamber was filled with an amassed army of the dead, souls who had sworn allegiance to the Chivrik. And upon the throne of bone lounged the great beast itself. A giant lion with the wings of a bat and tail of a scorpion, a rams head and a dragons head as well as that of a lion, fur barbed with razor sharp scales and claws that could split mountains in twain. The throne itself was a sight to behold, carved from a single rib of the great lizard by Eunok himself it was magnificent and beyond any God bar him. With a great roar Ravarthis lead the charge running towards the beast hurling javelins of thunder and axes of ice, whipping it with lashes of fire and dousing it with clouds of acid.
The beast yelled in pain its lions head being torn asunder but it came on and grappled with Ravarthis tearing hunks of flesh from his body nand goring him on the horns of the ram. The Ram's horns penetrated his flesh like that of a mortal for its skeleton was made of Chardil, a metal harder than any natural steel, a metal found only within the Underworld and even there only in scarce amounts. Ravarthis fought back removing himself from the beasts horns and rolling around to its back in order to chop of its flailing tail with his axe. Next he leapt onto its back and hacked at its wings only to be brushed aside and thrown to the ground. Staggering back to his feet he caught the Chardil a mighty blow with a whip of fire that severed one of its great legs and burned its hide, but the beast was quick. Its Dragon head opened its mouth and breathed out acid unlike any Ravarthis had seen before. The acid burnt his skin and soon there was nothing left of him.
Rallying to the leaders need the last 10 of his men who had not yet been defeated by the ghostly horde ran at the beast and threw the last of their javelins at the dragons head, where one managed to pierce its eye and penetrate into its brain. The Ram swung round and gored each man in turn but didn't kill them, instead choosing to gloat over them their defeat and the defeat of their God. And then it bled.
A tiny cut appeared on its cheek. Then another. It stared at the blood. Another cut, and again. Bellowing in rage it looked for the offender only to find instead a prick of pain at the back of its throat. Though his body had been all but destroyed Ravarthis lived on in the air. The acid had burnt his flesh but left millions upon millions of tiny thorns from the fell wood that had since become Ravarthis' flesh. Now these thorns flew up in a mist of fury, innumerable blades that tore flesh from bone (for the bone was too hard for even the thorns to damage) and ripped at the beasts last head. Seeing their leader begin to fall the last of the spirits scattered in fear, afraid that they may feel the wrath of the Underworld's new ruler.
The beast dead and now nothing but a skeleton Ravarthis moved to the throne. From there he surveyed his kingdom and looked upon the ten men. They would die, but not yet. Instilling them with power he made them stronger, fixing their wounds but leaving them as hideous shadows of the men they once were. These would be the first of his chosen, his branded. Then he looked at the other 90 now dead. These he raised and branded but as they were dead they would stay within the Underworld, never again venturing to the mortal realms.
Ravarthis would have much work to do. First he sealed the gate of the Chimdrith. After this he would have to resolve other matters. One of his first acts as the ruler of the Underworld was to take up the fallen skull of the Ram and use at as his own, both as his totem and as his head. But even though they were God's the sons of Eunok were falliable, and Ravarthis didn't realise that until a judge was appointed the souls of the dead would be condemned to stay in the river as they couldn't pass to paradise or to damnation.
Millions of voices, uncentered, uncontrolled, all screaming the same thoughts. "The Cattle are Loose!" "I dropped the bread!" "The milk is bad!" Pathetic. A world of individuals, none higher or lower than another, none noble or ignoble, nothing with a place or time or reason beyond existance. Father would be appalled.
Paras opened his eyes carefully. The bright light from the skies gave him reason; for reasons unknown it's uncentered ambiguity hurt him, angered him. In fact, the sky itself was cause for annoyance. one single color, stretching from horizon to horizon, uninterrupted by any cloud or bird. Totally synchronization. Disgusting.
Paras rose from his resting place, casting his gaze over the land on which he stood. For miles and miles, all around him, was a flat expanse of land. Wheat and grass grew endlessly to the horizon. Not a single tree blocked his veiw. Paras cringed at the landscape, and began to trudge forward, hoping to find something above all this mess.
Because When I think 'ruler of the known world', I think 'kobold'.
The god looked around the world, his eyes shone with pure raw excitement, any thoughts of quests vanished from his mind as he looked around and saw the trees and smelt the rich smells of the flowers. He picked a few small daisies and started to sit in the shade as he watched the world and started absent-mindedly creating a small daisy chain. He then fell to rich sleep.
Asleep, he saw an old building, broken down along what seemed to formerly a busy path but had recently only been used once or twice and overrun with plants, he noticed a few grey birds nesting in the background, apparently the only life for miles around. As he woke up, he put the daisy chain in his pocket and started off on his journey to find the building.
Going further into the woods, he eventually came up on a camp of around twenty people, they reacted at first by raising their swords but Plrna spoke gently and told them of his quest. At the description of the grey birds the people cried in fear, one calling them the “Omens of death”, the other merely calling them “Death, themselves”
Despite that, the god was told of where they roosted and directions of where to get there. As Plrna turned to leave and started to leave, a man followed him. Plrna questioned him but eventually gave into the man’s wish and continued the journey with the man by his side.
Garland's totem, the Garland Wand, was made over the course of a month of constant ritualizing and spell casting of destructive magics into a mystical metal, an orihalcon stone at the top, and dragon bones from the Forbidden Necropolis.
Soon, the city's wards began to waver and losses were slightly but significantly higher. Garland began another ritual. All of his Chosen joined him in a Circle Spell that they began and chanted for over an entire day. Exhausted, they fell, but the lesser magicians that were taught for a year protected them as Garland sent forth himself, empowered by the magics of 100 chosen, and his own ritual, he was much more powerful.
Garland teleported through all of Karmoth's wards and appeared with his extremely powerful weapon. He was floating in the air, and he incinerated a greater demon, gaurding Karmoth's Throne Room. Demon after demon assaulted Garland from inside the Throne, and from within other parts of the mighty fortress. Garland lifted his wand into the air, calling a mighty thunder bolt to shatter the bones of a twenty foot long, and twenty foot high demon creature, wielding a wand himself. The spells clashed against eachother, and this demon seemed to be the only challenge before Karmoth. After a three minuted duel between Garland and the sorcerer demon, Garland overcame the other caster with some effort. The thunder bolt tore through the demon's curses and exploded it's heart.
Garland immediately pointed the wand at the gate into the Throne Room of Karmoth, and the double doors were torn from their enchanted hinges, and slammed into the tyrant, who was sitting on his throne. The gates slammed into him hard, knocking off his crown. After Karmoth got onto his feet, Garland teleported in front of him and touched Karmoth with the artifact, immediately giving the demon all of the energy he had in his body. Karmoth stumbled back, dizzily trying to regain balance, as Garland fell, exhausted onto the floor. His demon gaurds seized Garland by the legs and arms, as Karmoth regained balance, he grabbed Garland by the neck and broke his neck.
All seemed lost. . . As the body, seemingly dead, crumpled to the floor in front of Karmoth, the wand hovered above the body, unseen by Karmoth and the others. Karmoth laughed, it had seemed that the only threat to him had just failed to prove he was who he said he was, and had been executed for assassination. But the wand, still unseen went into Garland's hand, and the body radiated with blue energy. The body stood up-right, and Garland seized an axe from a demon gaurd without even touching him.
From behind, Garland brought the axe into Karmoth's groin, and tore the lower part of his body off. As Karmoth screamed in agony, Garland brought down the wand on Karmoth's head and silenced him. The demons screamed, howled and escaped with their lives.
Upon the sweet smelling soil and grass, Mir found herself strewn. It was here that she heard the first whispers of the earth and the grass, of the wind and the chirping of birds. Ahead the great red sun burned low on the horizon of the sea. But Mir was not drawn that way, for deep within her mind and heart, she was at a loss.
Slowly she wandered across the bluffs and vales that ran along the coast, and for many days and nights she was alone among the animals of the forests and valleys. Many times she privately wondered what it was she was seeking. What sort of quest had Eunok foreseen in her destiny?
At last, when she had started to secretly give up hope, she entered a clearing, and looked down to a city where mortal humans resided. She was struck by the simplicity of their dwellings, yet she felt drawn to them, and so down she went into the town.
Upon spotting Mir, the townsfolk were openly hospitable, yet reserved, for they did not know why such a well dressed young girl had appeared from the forest. Mir in her silence only watched until the townsmen had brought forth an elder, a man whose weathered gray beard and wrinkled skin appeared more of a gnarled tree than a man. Slowly the man, supported by two others, hobbled forwards to her, and then raised both his hands together, in a sign of greeting.
It was with this symbol that Mir felt inescapably drawn to them. She responded to the symbol with her own little two hands.
She stayed with the town for a long time, watching the adults do their works, and experiencing the play of the children. The skills of the wives in weaving and cooking she observed with interest. As time passed, the children grew older, and the adults turned gray. All of this Mir saw and remembered deep in her heart.
But the subtle hooting of the owl at night would keep her awake, ever reminding her that her quest was not complete, nor could she forever dwell within the town.
And so on one crisp spring morning, when the dew had just started to dry, she sat in a circle with the elders of the village, and with a gentle motion, she reached to the hem of her tunic, and peeled off a line of the words, which ever glistened upon it. She lay these letters before them, and explained their purpose. For though the townspeople of the vale had voice and story, they did not have the subtle knowledge of how to capture these things.
For knowledge can be kept and passed through words, but words are only transient. Therefore should humans desire the deepest bounds of wisdom, then they must pursue knowledge and organize it into records.
She stayed long enough to teach the children the art of writing, and then she left, to spread this knowledge to other peoples.
"This is a stupid idea. We're going to be killed. The Emperor will imprison us for a year and a day." I looked at the young man, shaking my head. "Relax. Trust The Duke. He's smart, and I believe he'll have prepared the way for us. Besides, if this fails, all that will happen is that he refuses us - which, if The Duke is right, won't happen." The guard returned to us, seeing only a nobleman, his barbarian slave and his bond-sword seeking to speak with the Emperor. "The Emperor, Eunok grant him life eternal, will see you now." I bowed, Garrin awkwardly imitating me, Mera moving with grace. "Thank you."
The Emperor's throne room wasn't what I expected - dark walls and pillars with little color but for the bright weapons hanging from the walls, his Shadows standing behind the stoic Emperor with their hands on their swords, chosen concubines dressed in azure silk reclining next to the throne. One in particular caught my eye, and I grinned as the dark-haired vixen danced before the Emperor's throne; the Emperor was gazing longingly at her as she moved with energy and grace. This would be as easy as The Duke had said.
I fell to my knees before the Imperial Throne, Garrin and Mera again following my lead. "My Emperor, may Eunok grant you life eternal, I have come to speak about a matter that worries me." The Emperor nodded, his bright eyes watching me like a hawk watches its prey. "Speak." "My lord, I was sleeping in my bed a month ago, when a vision came to me. I stood by the sea, by a great fire and a mighty cliff, and a voice cried out upon the wind - Here shall be the greatest city that ever existed, where men shall walk in waking dreams. Antara's flag shall fly over its mighty walls, in the rule of the Twin Sheiks. Go now, man of Antara, and build the City of Dreams. I saw men of Antara setting the foundations and men from every neighboring nation bringing the supplies to build the walls and palaces, and the city arose before me, as great as the voice had spoken. Then I awake, and I cannot fall to sleep again." "Stop." I held my tongue, trying to stifle a smile. "How strange that one of my nobles should share a vision with me - for this past month I have had that dream. My wise men know not why, nor where this place might be within the Empire. I cannot sleep for the curse upon me. Tell me, do you know where this City of Dreams will be built?" I smiled in truth then, gesturing to Mera. "When it became known among my household that I was haunted by visions, a slave from the lands of the Makid came to me and told me that it was her ancestral lands, which had been ransacked by raiders not two months before, and that the voice might have been that of their goddess, the Dreaming Maiden." The Emperor sat back, pondering my words for a long time. I heard a quiet sound, barely at the edge of hearing, and knew that The Duke manipulated the Emperor further. "Very well. In the name of the Empire, I order you to build this place for me, noble Jeric. The Imperial storeholds are yours, and any aid I can give is at your command. Build this City of Dreams, and allow me to rest once more."
That night, the Emperor had a different dream, one I whispered into his ear and sent onto him. He saw me in my true form, calling out - "There's someone, young sister, caught in the border. Let's get into contact once more, daughter of Eunok! I am the Sheik of Night, dressed in ebony; rise up, my sister, and let's cross the border! Reveal the secret, one more soul to burn - let the Dreaming Maiden and the Sheik of Night ride across the stars once more, hunting the lost fool!" Pretentious and enigmatic, I know - but there's no harm in giving yourself a reputation.
By the time he awoke in a sweat, I had disappeared, changing form from the maiden to that of a red-and-black hawk, soaring out his window and out into the night.
Six months had passed since we went to see the Emperor. The Duke had returned to us by the time we arrived at my homeland again, and together The Duke and Jeric had coordinated the building of the city. Wood came from the great redwoods of far-off Januli, stone from the Imperial Quarries. Every resource we needed came from Antara, and gold and marble and silk came pouring in.
I truly think that The Duke placed some kind of glamour on the materials - wood and stone combined in the city to form buildings that seemed almost enchanted. Walking down the streets was like walking through a dream, especially as settlers came. The city was magic, in a way.
The city took only half a year to complete - again, I think The Duke was responsible for how fast the construction took. The Antaran Emperor and his brother were en route to the new city of Al-Makid when The Duke really called down the thunder...
I stood on the palace walls, looking down at my city. This city was almost a fairy-tale in the waking world. If it were any other city, this enchantment would fade in time, as people surged into the city and wore down its wonder day by day. But not Al-Makid, my greatest work of art.
I stood, and stepped out into space, turning the universe a half-twist
and the realm laughed at me again buffeting me with chaos and insanity nothing was real nothing was sane nothing at all it broke me almost mind shattering confusion terrible and it laughed at the puny thing of order
and i laughed and took my memories of the perfect city and everything that was enchanted pure fairy-tale and i cried laughed mocked as i bound the anchor and it screamed in fury
and i turned the tables now i broke its insanity bound it to the story bound it to my will to mortal will to what was true in the world and its insanity entered me and seeped into the truth an insane realm of what was right and true and i smiled and said this is acceptable
and i spoke and said you are mine and you will obey me and i will dwell in your mighty halls i will shape you with my dreams and we will be one the land needs a king and the king needs a land
but the darkness lashed out again as i crowed my triumph
and I stood in midair, laughing my triumph - it was mine! I had anchored the realm of dreams to the world! I was its king and master, and it was my land!
And then I looked up and frowned. "Oh. Someone's a sore loser." And then the lightning bolt smote into me.
The builders - most of them the first inhabitants of the city - and my three mortal dreamers came to the gate when the bolt hit, in time to see me stagger back onto my feet. "Thankfully, only in a dream could someone survive that. Hahaha!"
"I am the Lord of Dreams!"
I was so nervous I could barely speak, but I bowed and said what I was supposed to anyway. "Uh... welcome, Emperor and Sheik of Day, to Al-Makid, the City of Dreams." The Emperor and his brother looked at each other, then at me - still nervous. "Sheik of Day?" "Ay, Emperor - the Sheik of Day, destined to rule by the Sheik of Night. Will you come and meet him?" Oh no, the Emperor was stiffening, looking at me with... fear? "The Sheik of Night claims rule to this city?" I simply nodded, before gesturing into the city. "Will-will you f-follow me, my great lords?"
I led them through the streets, listening to them and their Shadows admire the colorful city, its clear layout, the perfect buildings and the enchantment over it. I was a bit proud - they admired buildings I had helped build, streets I had paved. Finally, we came up to the Great Palace, and we all stopped and stared at The Duke, dressed in black and leaning up against the Palace wall.
"What's the matter, my great lords? Have you never seen a man leaning against a wall?" Finally, the Sheik of Day responded, "Never one ten feet in the air... would you be the Sheik of Night?" He grinned, a predator's grin. "Yes. You like my city?" Suddenly, he seemed to lose his balance and fall - before landing on the ground in a half-crouch and standing easily. "Follow me into the Land of Dreams, and I will show you wonders beyond imagining..."
-build that wall and build it strong-
Kasanip - best artist; Rarity - best smile; Thanqol - good Question
Originally Posted by PhoeKun
Raz, you scoundrel! You planned this!
Originally Posted by BladeofObliviom
Great, and now I'm imagining what Raz's profile on a dating site would look like. "Must be okay with veils."
Originally Posted by Kasanip
I don't think there is such a time to have veils that it is not the fault of Raz_Fox.
Originally Posted by Dervag
It's a freaking Romulan dump truck. The Romulans are no more likely to build an unarmed warp-capable ship than they are to become a hippy commune.
Plrna and his servant came to a stop on his journey as he came to one of the great six ancient city states. He came to it and saw the people running around, he stopped one of them and spoke in a commanding voice. “Where is the place, in the middle of the route to here and your neighbour?”
“Ha” Cried the person. “We don’t go there, and they’re too smart to come here after doing what they’ve done.”
“What did they do?”
“They stole our children, didn’t they.” Said the person, wondering who this stranger was.
Plrna, found every member of this city he spoke to equally unhelpful and as such, trusting his godly instincts he travelled without help. Fortunately, he was on the track and came to the place, which was exactly like that in his dream. Only with one significant difference, the building, which was the focus of his vision, did not exist. Getting on his knees, he looked for anything to suggest a building had ever been there. As he did so, the building started to appear, but still Plrna felt that his quest was not over.
Then, he saw the great grey birds start to fly off and Plrna and his servant started to follow them. They ran across the plains until the birds were out of sight. The servant spoke. “I bet they went to the dark mountain, there yonder.”
Plrna agreed but “I feel that you should leave me now. It kis my instincts and I trust my instincts.”
People say that fire is the ultimate force of destruction, how is burns down homes, and breaks families, I disagree, in Fire there is chaos, and destruction. The seeds of life. In Ice there is perfect tranquility, and perfect order. Bringing only frigid death. ~ Diary Entry of Illindri, frost mage in the Northern Breen Mountains.
The Frost Mage Illindri sat up in his rime encrusted tower in the solitude of the mountains, flipping through a book who's cover had small stalactites where the environmental protection spells had began to recede. He knew that the flame of life grew dim within his heart, and that he had little time left. He rose from the stone chair he had built, his personal motto engraved in chisled latin near the head rest "Momento mori" (Remember, Death.). He walked over shakily to the stone table at the other side of the room, his limbs barely able to carry him, but he knew what he must do. He picked up the forbidden reagents, having to focus to identify the heart of lamb, from the Yak's spleen, as he tossed the ingredients into the massive stone cauldron near the table, a gray green smoke wafting up from it.
He adjusted his ice crystal spectacles, being sure that he had retrieved the right kind on onyx, before tossing a powder of abyssal diamond into the pot, this caused the smoke to shift colors rapidly, and dance as a gust of wind blew through the shuttered window, sending a plank of wood flying. Illindri swore vengance on the wind before adding in the now powdered onyx, which turned the smoke black, and gave it the smell of brimstone. Illindri smiled at this, he wrinkled features taking on a malelovent glare, as he chanted a spell, the winds from outside whipping around him, carrying him into the air, as flesh began to flay itself from him. This uncovered muscle, which began to peel away from the bone, tendons snapped, and a black energy began to course into his form, before another bolt of blue energy coursed into the black, and he feel to the ground. Rime beginning to coat the floor where his now bony feet touched, and his very presence making the room colder. Yes.... This would work well. Illindri then began to write out the next stage of his plot.
Plrna carried on until he came to a great lake; there he stopped a moment to check if he was going in the right direction. Plrna dived into the cold and icy depths of the lack and strongly swum to the other side of the lake. Nothing disturbed him and he smiled about it. It was there he came to valley and he saw no way to cross it until he suddenly became one of the dark grey birds.
With his grey bird like mind he, almost on instinct, flew over the valley and to the top of the mountain. His instinct and a magic calling allowed him to go through the secret entrance and to not need to go through the powerful, impassable iron gates. It was that instinct that caused him to fly into the cage which quickly locked behind him.
Plrna could see no way to escape from the cage but struggled until the dark witch, with her cloak made of the grey feathers from her grey birds came in and started to monologue about her kidnap of the city’s children and the foolishness of the city believing that their neighbours did it.
The Grey Witch was distracted and left the room and her distracted state broke the spell casted on the grey birds, including Plrna. As the rest of the birds acted crazy, Plrna turned into a mouse and deftly escaped from his cage. Out of the room, Plrna turned to normal as he started to make his way outside. Outside, he saw an army of one hundred men led by his servant and the Grey Witch watching them. She smiled as she saw that they couldn’t get through her gates.
Plrna stepped forward as he yelled. “It is not your neighbours that stole your children, it is this witch.” With that, Plrna came and pushed the Grey Witch off the mountain. Turning once more into a bird, he flew down to the army hoping that now, friendly relations would once again be formed between the two cities and that the path once travelled would be travelled on once more.
Ahmua dragged herself out of the slime, finding herself in a large chasm, from the feel of it. She cast her gaze around and could see nothing, despite the heavy breathing she felt. She then gazed upward and emotionlessly scrutinized the massive throbbing, banded, sluglike monstrosity on the roof of the cavern. She could not help but notice the human bones stuck to the roof by the sticky fluids that dripped into the pool below.
More curious than anything, Ahmua wrapped the shadows around herself, watching this creature. For a day and a half, the creature did not move. Finally, it stirred and slid to the ground in a deluge of slime. Ahmua knew this strange thing, this demon, wold come back after dragging some hapless beast to it's lair. Nimbly, the goddess scurried up the cave walls. The slime made it difficult, but not impossible. As she sprang to the spot where the beast was resting, she perceived a cluster of squirming larvae. She gingerly picked one up and slit it open with one of her claws. The creature hissed and quickly died after the evisceration.
Amused, she ran a finger under her chin as it swelled into a long red claw. She drove it into the cluster, relishing the hisses of agony as the desiccating venom she used forced their bodies to expunge the water stored in their bodies. She kept three for herself, paralyzing them and hiding them under her shawl.
She nimbly hopped down and made herself absent. She saw no reason to deal with the parent now. She had grand plans for these tiny, simple, disgusting vermin.
Far away from the forest, Ahmua began doctoring the creatures she had liberated from that forest cave. The first was rendered useless by the goddesses constant probing, but the other two, after giving them her own blood and nursing them back to health time and again as they got used to the thousands of toxic agents swimming in the goddesses body, were to become quite different than the oversized leeches.
Finally, they were ready. They were deep purple, pudgy larvae with a chitin covered head. They were rather unremarkable and by no means resilient to the ravages of the outside world. However, they would serve her purpose nicely.
Iorus arose from his revels and looked towards the horizon. He had left his quest long enough; it was time for him to seek the Dragonheart Mountain, where he would find the nexus of power that would enable him to take his rightful place as the Lord of Fire. He travelled, quickly as the wind, across the woods and mountains of the world, to the Desert of Tears. There he walked, for the power of the desert was strong enough to slow and hinder even a god. Still, he moved quicker than any mortal, and the burning heat did not harm him, for while he was not yet crowned, his blood still ran hot with the fire of the world.
Within a day he came to the Mountain, a dark, deadly peak, covered in ash and obsidian. Smoke rose from it continuously, and the heat near the base would be more than enough to kill a mortal man. Still, his journey was not done. He began to climb the peak.
The climb was long and dangerous, and took him another day. He stumbled and fell time and time again, and cut himself on jagged rock and volcanic glass, but still he trekked upwards. He would not be defeated by such minor matters. He faced the beasts of the mountain; great hounds forged of rock; a swarm of fiery imps, and finally, strange, mechanical creatures forged of brass and clockwork. He killed them, but each battle took its toll.
He reached the top, and then made the descent inside. The mountain was a forge; pure metal separated out from the lava which spilled up from the very depths of the earth by strange, infernal machines. And at the bottom of the mountain lay a demon; a huge creature of shadow and flame; claws, fangs, wings and tentacles. He ruled the forge, using it to make his infernal clockwork creations. And Iorus faced the creature, and placed his hand upon a bronze bar which had just been poured, and in his hand it became a brilliant, glittering spear, and with it, he put out the demon's eyes and killed it. Iorus destroyed the forge, and bound the spear in the demon's hide, and from its skull he forged his totem.
Eunok spoke, "rise this morning Wraght." A pale skinned woman looks at her father, "yes?" It is the time you have told us about? she asked anxiously sounding in her voice.
The next thing she knew she was laying face down in a muddy creek. She looked around with wonder, and realized that her dress was ruined.This is going to be one of the most difficult things you will ever do, but i have faith that you will be the most powerful of my children.
The voice came out of nowhere, it felt good to know her father was watching over her. She decided that she wasn't going to get anywhere with he dress like it was, so she stripped bare. She began walking east, following the voice of the air, until she made it to a small village. The ground here was cracked unlike the muddy embankment she had just came from. A man looks at her with wide eyes, and approaches. He smiles and asks To what do i owe this "pleasure?" Wraght just smiled and says i'm in need of shelter, a change of clothes, and some food. He smiles and leads her to his hut.
Wonder fills wraghts eyes, as she looks around this was a glass blower, she had only encountered glass one other time, and he noticing her wonder, took her hands and said pick any one thing you like and keep it"
Wraght looked at the objects for several hours, and decided she would prefer the glass ring, and on the end he placed a pearl (the size of a quarter). He asked her what she would do next, she puzzled for a moment and said"I need to find the stairs of dusklight, and ascend to the clouds where i can meet the goddess of the storms. He thought she was joking, ""Yes, i will take you to dusklight staircase tommorow, and let you look at what it has become, only a true master of air could navigate it, and we were once the keepers of the air." You may call me Rodrick.
Now draping herself in a black silk towel, she shared the bed of this stranger, that would be his reward for helping her. After a long night, she awoke to find that the ring had almost fused itself with her finger. She walked outside, and said "it is time for a shower" Whipping the winds around her body into the sky, the clouds started gathering after several minutes there was a downpour unlike the village had seen in several decades, unintentionally, she had just solved the drought problems that had caused the village to sink into a recession.
Rodrick found her outside, and said well i guess we will go to the dusklight staircase, this staircase can only be seen at dawn, or dusk. After an 8 hour walk through a series of tunnels underground, they came to a clearing in the middle of a forest, the only way in or out is the cave behind them.
"Here is the staircase" He looked in awe when she started climbing it, Wraght looked at him and said easy as putting on jewelery, Wait here for me, ok?
After several hours of walking straight up the staircase she came to a mighty Leviathan of the sky." Who approaches my mistress' castle?"Wraght smiled, Wraght, the daughter of Eunok and Denteria mistress of the storms. "The mistress' daughter here?!?!" A bolt of disintegration misses by an inch, the Leviathan wants to make it sporting, she smiled and began weaving a lightning storm, [here where the nexus of air, lightning, and water are strong] she thought. The thunderstorm filled the Leviathan with several million bolts of electricity, he started smoking, now just a charred husk of what once was. She didn't realize why she was weaving her spell though that her foot had been pierced by one of its fangs, she barely could stand the pain.
She weaved herself shoes made of clouds and began hovering up the stairs. She finally reached the Castle of storms, [im home mother] she thought to herself. When she walked in a beautiful woman stood before her, the look on her face made her seem like she had seen a ghost.
The force of the blast wraght was hit with, made her crash into the pure diamond castle, she barely stood up. I will not be conquered!" Said denteria.
I will cast you aside mother, like you did I all those years ago. Wraight reached into the sky and covered her hands in lightning, and channeled the force at her mother who batted it away effortlessly. Your time is up, though it pains me i will end you.] She lifts Wraght by her hair, and dangles her off the edge of the castle, Denteria looks surprised, looking down she realizes she was pierced in the stomach by the same fang that pierced her daughter, Wraght smiled,"I knew i could not defeat you unless, i made Eunok's blood course through your veins, this should easily finish you. The look on denteria's face was pure hatred, and she cast one more spell as she dropped Wraght on the clouds, She blasted Wraght with black lightning, the ring protected her though, the ring absorbed the totality of the spell, now stuck on her finger she wore a ring that was composed of diamond, and a pearl made of black lightning.
She went and met with rodrick after her mother had expired, " I am the new master of the dusklight realm she said to Rodrick. I will be back tomorrow.
Those of your people that wish to follow a new god can follow me and they will be changed physically, as she said this all 85 of the other villagers, including rodrick's eyes now crackled with lightning.
<Brand followers = The Algorians>
<Gain symbol = Diamond ring with black pearl made of lightning>
Eunok Called her back, and smacked her across the face, For killing another god, you have turned away from me, you will never be allowed in my lands again
He cast her back to the mortal coil, where she resides above the dusklight Staircase.
Surga awoke. Looking from his vantage point, he saw a small agricultural village, riven by internal strife. Walking towards the battling natives, he wondered why when surely union was the most powerful strength imaginable. As he approached, he spotted the elderly, the children and those of no faction cowering in the bushes. Approaching some, he asked "Why do they fight?", to which a young man replied "The chief died. His twins both wish to replace him." "Why do you not fight?" "Fighting amongst ourselves weakens the village. I do not believe the fight is right, and these people agree." He motioned towards the other adults of fighting age as he said this. "What is your name?"
"I am Mophos. What's your name?" Mophos's question was left unaswered as Surga strode into the village.
"STOP!!" Everybody did. "The tribe and family are the most important things. They should be cherished, not destroyed in this manner. Where are the twins?" Everybody pointed towards a pair of people in their early twenties, one male and one female."I am Surga, son of Eunok, Creator of the world. The only thing more important than tribe is family. Nothing, not gems, not ivory nor even livestock are more important. By fighting in this manner, you have defied this law." At the mention of his lineage, they all prostrated themselves before him. "For this, there can be no forgiveness nor excuse. Mophos should lead, he knew this and did not fight." With this, Surga motioned towards Mophos and 100 of his followers where blessed.
Branded people-the Mbeke
"Ignorance is... Carlisle." The Doctor, Doctor Who
Terrowin Avatar by HappyTurtle. Much thanks!
I have a point!
Always willing to run a dungeon for those who need somewhere to explore. Just PM me, and decide the character and location and I'll see what I can rummage up.
Savage grinned a toothy, fang filled grin at his fathers words. Yes, a quest, he would complete his 'quest' and claim what was rightfully his. He didn't know what his quest was supposed to be, but he knew a good place. Savage was to prove he was the top predator, the most lethal creature of all, the rightful king of all killers. He knew where to begin.
Savage found a place in a swampy jungle, a place filled with every kind of dangerous and poisonous creature imaginable. And in this place, he took the form of one of it's lowest of creatures. His form twisting and bending, he shrank and shrank until he was just a shriveled little maggot-thing, mouth ringed with tiny needle teeth, little more than the size of an insect. Here was where his quest would begin.
Spiffy new Bec Noir+Lil' Cal Avvie by RPGsr4me, thanks!
Shockroach by Meirnon, and Glasya, Queen of Hell by Neoseph7
Glasya, Queen and Mistress of Hell
Skeleton Bronze for Third Place in Skeleton ITP! and Hydralisk Bronze for Third in Zerg ITP
There was a flash.....Korath found himself sitting at a small table preparing a number of herbs. Looking about him, he saw the table was in a small room filled with shelves, tables, and what looked like a mixing table. The shelves had clay boxes and jars on them, each lovingly painted with a picture of the herb contained within. A little disoriented, he sat for a moment when a voice from behind him said:
Is mothers medicine almost ready? I don't know how you figured out those herbs would help her, but it's been a godsend.
Turning around, Korath saw a young woman of perhaps fifteen. It took a moment for him to realize it was Honua! But she was just eight!
That's when the memories came flooding back. He had spent the last several years helping her and her mother. At first he had completed minor repairs on the hut- thatching the roof and the like. Then he had built a kiln to make pottery in. They had sold most of the pottery in the nearby town. Between Honua's vegetable plot, the Mother's weaving, and his efforts with clay they made enough to keep from starving.
Almost done. Go ahead and start heating the water, ok? I'll be over in just a moment.
Picking up the herbs, he imparted just a tiny bit of divine spark into them. Normally the herbs would have lost most of their potency by being dried, but in his hands they actually improved the effect.
Korath remembered the first time he had made a tea for the old women. Manakiaʻi had slept deeply the first few doses, but soon she had regained her strength.
Shaking his head, Korath tried to figure out what was going on. He remembered the last few years, but why had he forgotten them? He was a God after all.
Then he remembered the smile on Honuas face, and all such thoughts vanished.
Taking the herbs, he left his workshop and walked towards the hut. The hut was painted with bright colors, and a mural covered the walls. As he opened the door, there was a flash.....
Thanks to Edwin for the Avatar!
Onwards the little girl walked through the days, her shoes long worn from her travels, and yet never torn, nor the text ever fading. She had visited many towns and cities across the sprawling lands of Antaran, ever witnessing the kaleidoscope of events. In some places she found welcome, and others hostility. Mir had experienced the bonds of captivity and the warmth of welcoming family. Ever that she traveled, behind her the trail of history would begin. And soon, as people grew more numerous, and her works more widespread, the flowering of dialogue began to overtake her. The Empire of Antaran, and the surrounding lands at large were the start, and soon the sacred script, attributed to her name as Mirilisi had become the standard amongst temples and scholarly locales. As the writing grew in use, she perceived more the events which were recorded. Soon the single script had changed as human hands worked fervently. It multiplied, and soon there were many styles of recording. Some on papyrus, some on clay. Yet all of this Mir welcomed.
Soon her own form became known, through the earliest sutras that described her gifts so bestown. Yet she still continued to travel, often welcomed as a lost child, and often giving words of council to those who listened.
She came at last to the mountain range of Aratthia far to the west of the Empire. Mir was driven there only out of desire to know what lay beyond, for the west was mysterious and often shrouded by mountains and rocky ridges. The smallest of towns sat in the valley of Mount Aratth, which the people held in reverence. As Mir stood in the town, she beheld the Mountain and felt her task had been found. Slowly she climbed, as the path was treacherous, even moreso for her small and fragile form. First the dangerous winds threatened to rip her off of the route. But Mir had witnessed the tenacity of the forests, and knew their roots dug deep, and she held on to a weathered tree which had taken root.
The malevolent winds gave way to rain and mud as she climbed, and rocks from above threatened her path with danger. Having witnessed the skills of many a shepherd lad, Mir picked up a stone and fashioned a sling from a strip of her tunic. After writing the glyph § upon it, she cast it above to knock down the loose rocks before they could become dangerous.
As night fell, the destination seemed even further in the gloom. The utter feelings of despair and helplessness battled her courage and will. Into shadowy creatures murmuring in voices of guile and deceit did these emotions and challenges appear, yet she made a fire to keep warm, and though she felt the longings and invitation of turning back, she stayed vigilant the night. Come the dawn's first rays the creatures disappated into the wind, and she picked her weary self up to continue. Three times she was almost forced to turn back, and yet she continued all the way to the ridge. So too is the quest for knowledge ever filled with danger and difficulty, yet Mir holds those in favor who continue earnestly.
Upon reaching the ridge Mir was struck with awe at view and at the tranquility which had surrounded her. She could perceive a great many happenings - the joys and the sorrows of the people below and beyond. It was here that she decided she would reside, and record those things as they came.
Slowly she descended the mountain, engraving glyphs and texts along the path with words of assurance and compassion to aid those in the journey.
Upon entering the town she revealed herself for the first time to the villagers, asking for their assistance and reverence. Of those who came forward to aid her, She named them the Corithatians and decorated their foreheads with her glyph, and their body with a sutra of wisdom. Up the long and difficult path they came, following her, and at the ridge they began constructing the city, of beautiful white limestone that glistened in the air. Throughout the city there were gardens and fountains, and yet the greatest was the sacred columned Library hall which Mir claimed as her own, built and carved into the very rock at the highest peak over the ridge. It is said that every stone of the city has been engraved with a word by Mir herself, and that if they are ever to be overturned, the history of creation would be told upon their surfaces.
As the path up to the ridge reaches its conclusion, two tall marble stones flank the path. Etched on each are held Mir's council and blessing to visitors, engraved on the rock and lined with the purest of silver.
Here at the sacred Mount Arratth her closest followers reside and study the knowledge she has gathered. So to it is Mir's audience hall and dwelling, the greatest library ever to be constructed. Yet Mir herself still travels out amongst the normal humans of the land, childlike in joy to be among their presence.
Ravarthis sat upon his throne and surveyed his realm. He would need to tame the Island above to protect the gate, he already had believers and branded in the town there but he would need more. Now in control of his realm he brought the trees to bay, making them forge arrows and swords of thorn for his followers but still he needed more...
His thoughts turned to his defeated foe and he felt a sympathy for it. A worthy opponent he should honour the beast. An idea of a creature he would forge came to his mind, a creature truly worthy to guard the Underworld, it would do nicely...
Still more was needed though! Allies. Two great demons entered his realm, departed from this world recently, intriguing. Ravarthis sent out his thoughts and looked across the land seeking to converse with the other God's.
"Garland, Iours it would seem you have both slain a beast of great power who's soul is now confined to our domain. Would we be right to assume you are both Gods of some power now?"