Lords of Creation in the Playground (IC2)

**Hatter** · 2015-05-22, 11:29 PM (ISO 8601)

Market Square, Avalon, Eldarond - Ulvin, Kyrokoli

In size, Ulvin towered over Kyrokoli, the Man-God easily stood at 9ft in height, his well muscled body covered in silver colored plate.

"Kyrokoli." said Ulvin, it wasnt a question but a reaffirming statement. He looked down on the goddess, no real emotion on his face.

"Follow me then. A conversation between deities is not for mortal ears." With that, he simply walked towards Divine Decree's general direction. He could have flown, but he did not. He could have simply willed himself there but he did not. Instead, he chose to walk among his people as if he were a normal person even though he was not.

Ulvin remained silent the whole way to Divine Decree, a simple smile or a whisper of encouragement to the humans that they passed when finally they reached Divine Decree, the paladins opening the solid doors wide for both deities to pass into the assembly chamber and into the throne room.

The King Knight turned to Kyrokoli and simply asked "What is it that I might do for you, Winter Queen?"

**Hatter** · 2015-05-23, 12:19 AM (ISO 8601)

Krenko-Ka City

Krenko-Ka City stirred within itself, the brain which was the center of the City reached out and took a moment to realize just how magnificent it was to be heavily relied upon by the little green inhabitants that called it home. If the City could smile, it probably would have but such acts were beyond it's understanding and so, it had to settle for something a little more to it's liking and capabilities.

The City shifted, literally and physically shifted. Where once was a hall was now a solid wall. Where once was a flight of stairs was a clean fall down to some unknown depth below. Where once was a clean and simple room was now a bubbling cistern filled with molten steel. This, the city decided would be something it would do, frequently and at random intervals. It would be more fun this way. The goblins and their off-shoots of course would not have any trouble navigating it but for the average everyday outsider.... It would be a maze of death.

Singing Stones Cavern Below Krenko-Ka City- Flibbit

Flibbit was one of the many goblin miners that resided in the more hazardous lower levels of the City. Every day without ever seeing sunlight, he would enter the Singing Stones Caverns below the city with hundreds if not thousands of other miners if bright red jumpsuits and yellow hard hats, a random assortment of numbers on their backs to identify each worker to the foremen whom wore white hard hats instead of yellow.

Today was for the most part just like any day but word had come down from the upper levels that a goblin had managed to create explosives using the Singing Stones and so, Flibbit... ever curious decided to experiment.

During his break, he managed to put together a rough model, similar to that of a crossbow and had ready small little steel balls which would be loaded into the weapon's long barrel. He then acquired some Singing Stone which he grinded down into a fine powder and loaded the barrel with the small steel ball. He poured a small amount of powder into a slot on the side of his weapon. He pulled the trigger. A foreman's white hard hat went flying and it's wearer dropped dead. Flibbit let out a hysteric laugh... He had invented gunpowder.

Spoiler: Ahn Actions

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-1PAP(Chaos: Cause Chaos) Pestilence: Ever-changing City - Krenko-Ka City's body changes randomly in so many directions. Only goblins and their subraces could ever hope to keep up with it.

-1PAP(Goblin: Better Goblins) Teach Populace: Gunpowder - Grinding the Singing Stones down produces the world's version of Gunpowder.

**thethird** · 2015-05-23, 04:45 AM (ISO 8601)

??? - ??? (somewhere on the Basohian forest)

He drank from the offered globet, gulping down the warm metallic liquid. It slipped around his mouth and tickled to the ground. Jeweled scarabs, the forest ever present pests, ran towards the spillage feasting on it. His drink finished he left the cup once again in the table and moved backwards. Crunch one of the beetles reduced to nothingness under his sandals. The vermin's innards soon becoming dessert for the others.

For a moment he couldn't help but to think of those beetles. They were everywhere, long ago they had partaken in the metal tinged draconic blood from the prosperity dragons and had changed. They too had drank from the draconic well and changed. They now fought each other, almost continously, the priest said that they were growing stronger as it had been their first command. But he knew better. They were just vermin squabling fighting each other like rabid dogs, or scarabs. So thirsty for each other's blood that they didn't even stop to wonder why.

While his mind wandered close to aposthasy his body was cleansed. All clothing was removed, which wasn't much considering he had been dressing rags, and priests carefully examined his phisique. Then a scrubbing sponge made sure to dig out any dirt that might have been atached to him, oils were applied to his body making it shine. The shine didn't last for it was carefully removed with a sharp ceremonial blade, made of bismuth no less the thing would be worth a ransom. He stood there naked, hairless except for his eyebrows and a rather cropped mohawk, and without more mark than his tattoos and scars.

The priests observed ritual. They gathered around him smearing him with fine white powder. His nose took some time to adjust to the smell. He barely recognized it. Once bone was cooked at hot temperatures, over the runic stones, all meat and traces went away. It took mastery to keep it from charring but priests had mastered the trade. He was robbed of all color. He was dead incarnate.

A markless mask, like a mannequin, was fitted over his face. His eyes barely able to see through the slits. A white wooden circle was placed over his belly, a gut shield mockery. His hand was openned and a cold metallic bismuth dagger handed to him.

He was lead, or pushed, like a beast to the slaughterhouse. In front of him gates oppened and as he stepped forward the audience thrilled. But the audience was more thrilled when the gates at the other end oppened. Two brutes, standing two heads over his own height, each covered in a buzzing mass of scarabs. The vermin had thrived under their flesh, bitting and merging with it. He had seen creatures succumb to the beetles attention, their bite numbing the prey and deadening the flesh to pain, rarely he had seen so many bettles on a beast that became a monster impervious to punishment. Where they his opponents he would need luck to defeat them. But they weren't. They were simple lackeys pulling thick wraithwood cords.

At the end of those cords was death. Wealth dragons had crossed with many creatures since they had arrived at the Bahosian forest. Some of those creatures were docile, capable of being trained, others were reticent yet could be reared. Still there were those like the thing in front of him that could not even be cajoled. The creature, he doubted it had any proper name other than "execution tool", was an aberrant mutant the bastard child of what new what. It stood among four strong legs that barely lifted his immense body mass from the ground. His stout elongated body reminded him of a crocodile, and perhaps such reptile had been lost in the monster's family tree, but the features were beetlelike. Chitin plates had grown asimetrically all over. It's faceplate so big that his head was just an armored maw. Wings, for it had had, were clipped and torn flailing uselessly at his side like ragged cloth. The creature stood there and the audience fell silent as two moth like antennae extended from it's openned jaw. They moved tasting the air.

And when it tasted the metallic dager in his hand chaos loosened. The beast lunged forward pulling with it the luckiest brute who had gotten mangled with the chord, the unlucky one simply got trampled. Warrior instincts set in as the audience roared again. He ran. To the side and the monster clashed against the thick wall. It recovered preternaturally fast and charged again towards him.

Again he ducked aside, barely getting out of the monster way. This time the aberration recovered faster charging soon against him. He couldn't help but smile, knowing full well that it was his own smile, a smile hidden to the public behind his mask. He was going to die. That was beyond the question. A spiteful part of his wanted to just be done with it. To not be a part of the charade, to simply let the beast take him. But he was a warrior and a warrior does not surrender. Nothing else mattered. His life didn't matter. His enemy didn't matter. His weapon...

Was trapped. The weapon was a trap. The monster could smell it. That's what kept it lurching at him unherringly despite being blind. This time he almost laughed, he threw the dagger aside. Cutting such monster's hide with a small weapon like that was a fool's hope. And Cle of Wo w..

*******

Cle of Wo wasn't a fool. He didn't listen to ghosts.

*******

Even if they were insistent ghosts. He was on his way to become one. His dagger discarded he moved slowly towards the charging beast. Before they clashed he moved sidelong. The beast went by him. As it went he jumped hugging the torso, the legs were long gone, of the brute that had clutched the wraithwood cord. He climbed atop of him, fending of the beetles, and started going over the rope. He didn't get far, the brute somehow still alive clutched his leg unto his fist. Cle sonov' Wo...

*******

Started to trash at it with his free leg, kicking the extended arm till it snapped like a twig. His continued climbing was marinated by a wet sound as the broken arm was torn free and the scarab's chirping rummage.

When the monster finally reached the dagger, which it engulfed in one quick bite, he was atop it. In one hand he held the creature's wraithwood collar, in the other the brute's broken arm. As the beast trashed trying to get him off he laughed. He was holding a tiger by it's tail and his grip wasn't firm. Well, the analogy wasn't a valid one. The monster was much larger than any tiger. He wasn't holding it's tail. He was at it's neck. And the neck was always a vulnerable part. He pulled the collar up, revealing the soft meat that had been grazed by the wraithwood touch. With strength born out of madness the dragrel rammed the bettle infested limb's bony end upon the exposed flesh. He kept pushing as the beasts trashing intensified. He kept pushing when it became erratic. And he did even push when the beast died.

He stood over the fallen corpse. Raising to the audience and shouted.

"I'm Cle sonov'Wo!"

I'm not Cle sonov'Wo! I'm Ur sonov'Sha! I'm Ur sonov'Sha! This isn't real!

**Hatter** · 2015-05-23, 08:00 AM (ISO 8601)

Avalon, Eldarond - Mavrick

Mavrick was a simple and humble man by all accounts. He was a blacksmith who worked the forges of the Silver Knights and he worked that forge every single day, pausing long enough to give worship at the nearest chapel which was right down the street before heading back to work again.

Then came the day he would never forget. It was like any day. He ate his breakfast and he went to work over the forge, a beast of a man, large and imposing with a mane of red hair and an equally red beard. He hammered away at white hot steel before his thoughts were interupted.

A voice, booming and clear as day rang through his head "Mavrick! Forge for me a hilt of silver!"

and so Mavrick did. He presented it to his Lord himself and was blessed. Some would argue the most blessed.

Spoiler: Ulvin Actions

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Create Combat Artifact-3AP: Hero - When not held in hand, Hero appears as nothing more that a plain and bladeless silver hilt but when wielded by it's true owner, it would then expand into a wonderful and radiant silver blade which seems to generate pure and clear light.

Murkdeep, Reean Isles

Typhus was pretty bad here in this overly crowded city with it's overly crowded streets and it's overly crowded docks and it's overly crowded ships. Murkdeep was quite simply a haven for disease in all of it's forms. If the pirates and the cut-throats didnt kill you, the whores will and most of the time unintentionally!

It was within the streets of this city that a group did rise to the occasion, men and women dedicated to Ahn as if they were a priesthood in of their own and quite frankly, many of them were indeed clerics.

The people, the Poppy Doctors as people would come to know them would wander the lands either by themselves or in troupes. They would have small offices in large cities which would double as shrines to Ahn so that the sick and afflicted could come worship at his altar but what stood out the most about the Poppy Doctors was their masks. Long and hooked like a beak and stuffed full of poppies.

Spoiler: Ahn Actions

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Create Organization -2AP : The Poppy Doctors - The Poppy Doctors serve 2 purposes. First they serve as pharmacists and doctors, caring for the wounded and the sick. However, in a much more secretive capacity, they serve as Blightmancers, bringing disease and plague into the world. Medicine is a booming business!

Free PRC: Blightmancer!

**Ralasha** · 2015-05-23, 08:26 AM (ISO 8601)

Hemeliosa: The Golden Isle

Nothing in particular happens to draw her attention.

Ignus: The Plane of Fire

Ignus continues to watch the situation on the Playground from the safety of the Plane of Fire.

Spoiler: AP

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Hemeliosa: -2 War Domain Portfolio: Valor

Ignus: -1 Nourishment: The Elves that are descended from those that have lived in the Plane of Fire are now Quasi-Immortal. They do not suffer penalties from aging, and do not die of old age. These Elves have Amber Colored Eyes or Hair, and may cast Searing Light once per day as a Supernatural Ability. Some Elves on the Playground randomly display this new racial heritage randomly.

-1 Create Subrace: Azers: Fire Aspected Dwarves. Dwarves which have lived in the Plane of Fire for so long have taken on some of the traits of that plane.

Spoiler: Azers

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Racial Attribute Modifiers: +2 Strength, +2 Dexterity, +2 Constitution, +2 Intelligence, +2 Wisdom, –2 Charisma.
Size: Medium size.
Speed: An azer’s base land speed is 30 feet.
Darkvision: Azers can see in the dark up to 60 feet.
Racial Hit Dice: An azer begins with two levels of outsider, which provide 2d8 Hit Dice, a base attack bonus of +2, and base saving throw bonuses of Fort +3, Ref +3, and Will +3.
Racial Skills: An azer’s outsider levels give it skill points equal to 5 x (8 + Int modifier). Its class skills are Appraise, Climb, Craft, Hide, Jump, Listen, Search, and Spot.
Racial Feats: An azer’s outsider levels give it one feat.
Special Attacks (see above): Heat (Ex): An azer’s body is intensely hot, so its unarmed attacks deal extra fire damage. Its metallic weapons also conduct this heat.
Special Qualities (see above): Fire Absorbtion (As Fire Genasi), spell resistance equal to 10 + Total Hit Dice, vulnerability to cold.
Automatic Languages: Dwarven, Common, Ignan. Bonus Languages: Aquan, Auran, Celestial, Infernal, Terran.
Favored Class: Fighter.
Level adjustment +4.

**Shmee** · 2015-05-23, 09:43 AM (ISO 8601)

Originally Posted by Hatter

Market Square, Avalon, Eldarond - Ulvin, Kyrokoli

In size, Ulvin towered over Kyrokoli, the Man-God easily stood at 9ft in height, his well muscled body covered in silver colored plate.

"Kyrokoli." said Ulvin, it wasnt a question but a reaffirming statement. He looked down on the goddess, no real emotion on his face.

"Follow me then. A conversation between deities is not for mortal ears." With that, he simply walked towards Divine Decree's general direction. He could have flown, but he did not. He could have simply willed himself there but he did not. Instead, he chose to walk among his people as if he were a normal person even though he was not.

Ulvin remained silent the whole way to Divine Decree, a simple smile or a whisper of encouragement to the humans that they passed when finally they reached Divine Decree, the paladins opening the solid doors wide for both deities to pass into the assembly chamber and into the throne room.

The King Knight turned to Kyrokoli and simply asked "What is it that I might do for you, Winter Queen?"

Kryokoli follows Ulvin as silent as he is, instead opting to observe how this deity interacts with his followers. Finally they arrive at Ulvin's throne room, she answers Ulvin's question "As you may have heard of my accomplishments, it should be no secret that I desire to blanket the Playground in a perpetual winter. To the north is the Iceshelf Tundra. The Frozen North was formed by another deity, but it too knows the chill of winter. The seas have frozen over at my mere presence, and I hold dominance over the First Tree. Now I seek to once again expand my influence but am torn as to where to strike next. Craast Dominus lies within range. Perhaps I may freeze the remaining oceans. I might even expand to the South of Stoixia or strike at Demiourgia itself. Or I may target you and yours." she says in a matter of fact tone.

"My Human once worshiped you before being converted. I have heard of how pious and loved you are in your lands, and to be honest it sickens me. The more someone cherishes something, the more it makes me want to destroy it. So here is my reason for visiting you Ulvin Silverblade: I'd like to hear from your own lips a good reason why I should not smite you and all your people. Make your case, and should it be satisfactory, I shall focus my wrath elsewhere." Ulvin would notice that Kryokoli is equipped with her battle gear, and her wicked scourge tied to her hip, is within arm's length.

================================================== ==============
Demiourgia

Although one may think that the only place were one can find Elves are on the First Tree, there were many who had arrived at Demiourgia centuries ago when Deimos had created them. Of course, they were disorganized and mostly left alone by the other natives of the land. Even so, life was not easy for these Elves lacked the security that the other races of Demiourgia had. They did not have the means to build their city, like the Dragonborn of the Dwarfs, so they were vulnerable to attacks from Orcs and all sorts of various monsters that roam the lands.

One day it happened that a tribe of Elves were traveling South of the Ruins of Purity and East of the Bay of Neutrality. These Elves were seeking a place for them to settle down and begin a settlement of their own. There were some who were arguing that it would be preferable to return to the First Tree, despite the influx of foreign forces. Yet something was terribly odd about the land they had chosen, for the mages and wizards who had accompanied the Elves found that their magic was greatly amplified for reasons they could not comprehend. After some debating it was decided that the Elves would settle on these lands, the settlement itself was named Nylnor.

Although Nylnor was an Elven settlement, there were many people of different races that came to these lands, curiosity attracted mages and all form of spell casters like moths to a fire, as they would find that not only can they cast spells higher than their normal level, but that their spells were twice as efficient. Thus Nylnor began to grow from a settlement to a small town brimming with mages.

As Nylnor continued to expand, one day the Elven Elders were approached by the most beautiful Elven maiden that they had ever seen. Only introducing herself as "The Witch", she radiated an aura of pure power as she explained that if the Elves wanted to discover the source of power, all they had to do was to dig the earth beneath Nylnor. After great debate, the Elves decided that they would heed the Witch's advise, if anything to help clear the mystery surrounding these lands. After an extensive dig, the Elves were surprised that true to the Witch's word, something was discovered, a crystal pulsating pure arcane power was found underneath. They continued to dig amazed at the sheer size of this crystal which seemed to be the size of a mountain. However large as it was, the crystal was not a mountain, but in fact a shard, which as soon as it was unearthed, it began to float into the sky.

The Witch casts a spell which causes a massive chain to erupt from the ground and imbed itself into the crystal before it can fly away. She then explains that this crystal is merely a shard which fell from the sky when the Cosmic Mother revealed herself putting an abrupt end to the Draconic Civil War. Being a god of Magic, this piece of the Cosmic Mother resonated the magical ability of all spell casters, effectively empowering them. Thus the Elves of Nylnor could consider themselves blessed by the goddess of Creation. However the Witch did warn the Elves that this shard of the Cosmic Mother may prove to be a blessing or a curse, everything would depend on the choices the Elves would make.

Thus the Elves of Nylnor decided to expand their nation around the Cosmic Shard. The shard itself acting as a source of seemingly infinite magical power to fuel the city's need. Every aspect of the city became magical, from the source of street lights to floating towers found across the city. The most powerful mages who assembled at Nylnor, although not all necessarily Elves, decided that as the arcane powers served as the fundamental pillar of their society, city and nation, then it is those who wield the strongest forms of magic who should rule over it. Thus the Magocracy of Nylnor was created with the Archmages serving as the highest authority.

Their first action was to secure the Cosmic Shard by forming more chains in order to firmly secure it. Following that they constructed their bastion atop the Shard itself, so that the Council of Archmages may watch over the Shard's use. During the day the Shard seems to hum with power, while during night it gives off a faint glow leading some to believe that the Shard actually absorbs light from the Cosmic Mother's eyes. Whether that is true, the Archmages remain silent about this theory.

It was like this that the Elven nation of Nylnor was founded. Although the city consists mostly of Elves it is very common to find mages of other races who have flocked to the City of the Arcane.

Spoiler

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The Cosmic Mother.

AP11+2 Bonus=13
AP10=13-3: Create Nourishment Artifact: The Cosmic Shard
AP8=10-2: Create Organization: The Magocracy of Nylnor (PrC: Archmage)
AP7=8-1: Nourishment: All spell casters within and around a certain distance from Nylnor find that not only can they cast spells higher than their current level, their spells are actually much more potent.
AP4=7-3: Gain Domain : Elf (Actions done: Cosmic Shard (3) and the Magocracy (2)
AP2=4-2: Gain Portfolio: Elf-kind.

**thethird** · 2015-05-23, 10:01 AM (ISO 8601)

Eucle - Erebus

The prosperity god had returned to the realm of shadow feeling his grandfather pull for the mortal souls among his people wane. There would be a power struggle, soon, all vacuums were to be filled at some point. And the wealth demon didn't doubt that the other gods wouldn't chase after the departed souls. Thus he wanted to be the first to reach the darkness.

He had once been invited into the deepest dark were his grandfather had roamed and he could find his way on the dark realm. Traveling he had passed many mortal souls trapped in the dark, living in eternity cast in shadows but trapped in illusions that filled them with delight. They weren't so different his grandfather and him, both giving mortals the bliss of comforting mirages be it on death or in dreams.

When he reached the castle that had pertained Death he went inside. The doors weren't barred. Or if they were they couldn't stop him. He went for the room where he had laughed at his grandfather before leaving. Incapable of finding him there he explored the rest of the castle. Room by room searching. To no avail, nothing remained from his grandfather other than shadows.

What remained though were the gods shadows that had been with his grandfather. His mother's shadow was there, as was his father's and his first still born child. Fortunately the three had assumed humanoid forms, his father had the gaunt skeletal features that he was used to, his mother had assumed the wet likeness of a woman, taking traits that the moongrels had associated with her when they first had heard about the demon's matron, and his child was a reflection of his moongrel form yet perfected in marble and gold but lacking a heart. None had much color in them as if they were made of varely substantial ash.

"You are figments. You are no more."

The prosperity god casted them away but the dead souls remained. There was nowhere to go. Erebus was the final destination. A cup that could be filled but never empited.

"Begone."

Even if they wanted to, and Eucle wasn't sure that was the case. A part of him wanted to charge at them. To break them between hammer and club. But that would be wasteful. Instead he moved towards them and looked at each in the eye. Searching for a spark of what they had been. He found it there. Just a fickle flame that defied extinction. He smiled, glee filling him. He could take that flame. He could devour it fully. It would make him more powerful. And no one would be the wiser. Of course it would require consuming his parents and his child souls. But who cared about souls anyway?

Eucle cared.

The temptation passed, subsummed for an instant before turning into more profitable, and less questionable, avenues.

"Can I offer you a deal?"

Trade was good, trade was what he had been born to do. To exchange and through it to expand. To become bigger by changing itself and others. To better others by changing them so he could improve himself further. That had always been his core belief. If others did well, you did ultimately well. Thus he gave some of his divinity to the figments and took some other in equal measure. His power grew more diverse as he took from their souls their power became livelier as their partaked in his.

He shared and traded with the dead gods. And when the dead souls saw that they also wanted to partake in the action. Mortals long forgotten came to him, the first ones to come were his followers who had been trapped on the shadow realms when they had died. Then the moongrels whose souls the dead death god had partaken with trickery. Then others who simply wished for a change. To leave the recurring utopic loop in which they were trapped. It took effort to break from the cave, for when a cave is all you know shadows look like reality. But illusions were all to fickle.

The trade god smiled upon them. Tearing away the afterlife chains they were little more than formless mannequins filled with ash and shadow that threatened with collapse. Almost nothing of their past lives remained and what they had, the only thing of true value, they offered as oblations to the demon god. Sampling their memories and dreams the demon grew stronger but came true on his deal. He taught them how to build mask of gold, a plenty in the shadow realm below the world, to cork their shadows inside their ash bodies and keep from being torn away.

Once he had amassed many of this newly created creatures he unleashed them into the realm of shadow and the world beyond. They had two simple commands. The first one was to trade, they would trade the underworld's valueless wealth for valuable stories. The second one was to search, for two souls had evaded the Prosperity god notice. They were to search for Zalsaram, eldest of all, and for whatever remained of his grandfather, for Eucle knew that even dead the death god could prove troublesome.

Spoiler

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Eucle 0 AP + 2 AP from bonus + 7 AP from rollover + 2 PAP = 9 AP + 2 PAP
9 AP Raise divine rank (3, 3 AP actions, justified AP use gain domain (3 AP), beget god (5 AP), gain portfolio (2 AP), gain portfolion (2 AP), gain domain (3 AP)

As a 15 DR deity Eucle gains a new DCM:

{C} Souls come unto me: Eucle can call the deceased souls to form an army around himself warding him from attacks and disracting his opponents with their many bodies.

1 PAP Create Subrace (Cult of the Beast, Souls must be free): Eucle has created the returned (or Itzulk in moongrel), this undead do not remember anything of their past lives, whatever they remembered before returning is given to the prosperity god as their deal to roam the world again.

Each of them is an undistinctive humanoid, without recognizable features. Their skin is shadowed ashen, their like faces but have circular orifices where the mouth or eyes should be, continually leaking smoky shadow that dissipates soon after leaving them. While some theorize that if all the shadow were to leave them they would die (again) this is not detrimental for them, other than being rather spooky to those around. When their skin is ruptured, the same ash and shadow comes out before the wound is closed.

They all wear golden mask, gold being cheap in the underworld. This masks are crafted by each one of them in the underworld under Eucle's or anyone of his chosen to represent the pact between the prosperity god and those returned.

Medium: As Medium creatures, returned have no special bonuses or penalties due to their size.
Undead: Returned are undead creatures, and have all the associated traits.
Returned base land speed is 30 feet.
Automatic Languages: Common. Returned gain the ability to speak Common upon their transformation, but they do not lose the ability to speak languages they previously knew before Returning.
Golden Mask (Ex): As long as they wear their golden mask returned have the following traits.
Resist Control (Ex): Returned have a +2 profane bonus on their Will saving throws to resist the effect of a control undead spell.
Turn Resistance (Ex): A Returned has +2 turn resistance.
Unnatural Resilience (Ex): A returned automatically heal hit point damage and ability damage at the same rate as a living creature. The Heal skill has no effect on returned; however, negative energy (such as an inflict spell) heals them.

While theoretically non medium sized humanoid returned could exist they are rare, being the exception rather than the norm.

0 AP Mark "Mortal": Zahav Zalal the deceased god of Greed, and Eucle's first child, has been marked among the returned. His ashen body has a hole in his chest, where the heart would be always leaking shadow, but other than that he is perfectly clad in the finest gold there is wearing a cherub's mask. When Eucle is absent in the underworld he is the one who oversees the Returned creation.

1 PAP remaining

**Hatter** · 2015-05-23, 10:03 AM (ISO 8601)

Divine Decree, Avalon, Eldarond - Ulvin, Kyrokoli

"Because I will fight back. My Father would fight back and with the proper motivation, the other member of my pantheon would fight back. Three gods, against you. You are smarter than that and that is not your true purpose here, for how can one who has no heart or emotion feel sickened and disgusted? How can one such person have wrath?" Ulvin sat on his throne.

"No. You have another purpose for being here. Enough threats. I will not grovel to you. I will not plead or beg of you. I am not beholden to you nor am I or will I ever be subservient to you. Tell me why you are truly here." He leaned back straight in his throne and calmly placed his hands in his lap with his fingers interlocked together.

**smashingBrawler** · 2015-05-23, 01:17 PM (ISO 8601)

Clora - The Void

Clora turned her interest away from any trial or meeting, as thoughts formed in her mind. The undead would assuredly flourish if they existed in different ways than her originals. Different forms of recreation, should any one fail. Undead of a different kind of magic, or reproduced in some... hardier fashion. She began to conjure these things with magic from her claws.

The first, she bore of the healing magic she had uncovered, creating creatures one the verge of death and undeath, yet certainly deathless. These began to rise from the deceased forces of good on a battlefield down on the world. Powered by goodness and healing, they would perhaps be a more suitable selection for some of the goodlier deities.

Simultaneously, she created something that could be easily described as darker. Fangs, paleness, and a hint of the evil nature of what had created Clora long ago. These creatures would learn to use the darkness, the shadows, in response to the ancient foe. They would also, should the time ever come, be prepared to thin the numbers living. They would be the vampires - and they would have great power and potential, but they would have a weakness so long as the foe rested. They would be harmed by the light of the suns, the power of the ancient line - this would keep them in check until something dangerous took control. These rose from the other side of the battlefield, the other side of the coin from the deathless.

In time, the vampires would find the living, and create something that existed both inside and outside of life and undeath - a combination of the two. These would be known as dhampirs, and they while they were yet to exist, they would bridge the gap between the two states of existence.

Finally, she took control of that which laid in the hands of Althia, and caused it to grant the deahtless the varieties that had been given to the skeletons - the flight and the light.

The, she redirected her attention. The numbers and varieties of undead were growing - they would need those who knew how to lead, and also those who would learn how to work alongside them. Exchange had already become something big, and so clearly an organization of exchange would be useful the undead. They could provide eternal labour, but they would not give it away freely.

Finally, as she gave the creatures new power, she knew she would need to allow mortals options. Other gods would be able to use their clerics to aid or harm the undead, by the choice of the deities - and they could specify aid or harm based on the varieties of undead - The neutral standard, the evil vampiric, and the good deathless.

Spoiler: Housekeeping

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Forgot to add a tenant to the pantheon Clora joined - but also haven't spent any PAP as such. Here it is: "No action can allow the numbers of the living, dead, or undead to outweigh the other two combined"

Spoiler: Clora AP

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Initial AP: [4]
AP Gain : [+5] (Rollover) [+2 Bonus] (New IC)
Subtotal AP: [9+2]
AP Expenditure:
Create Populace (Deathless, Dhampirs, and Vampires - oh my!) [-2] - Vampires are as expected, and existing alongside Dhampirs (except make that LA 4) and Deathless.
Create Organization (Unliving Labour Exchange) [-2] - The Undead Overseer PrC works quite well here. The ULEx has representatives in most places where the undead can be found - Those who learn to work within the Undead system can find themselves with quite the workforce, for the right price.
Raise DR [-3] - Using the two above actions. Clora acquires DR 8, and gains a DCM, {A} Healing Light - Clora's light heals allies.
Nourishment (The Choice) [-1] - Deities choose how their clerics effect undead and the living with healing/harming/smiting/rebuking etc, as opposed to it being directly linked to alignment. For example, Clora's cleric's will heal all types with healing spells, and would rebuke over turning undead - though even rebuking and commanding is looked down upon within the religion - Bolstering is viewed as fully acceptable.
Utility Artifact Usages:
Create Subrace (SotA) - The Glowing/Glowing+Flying templates of skeletons can also apply to deahtless. Special note: The light of any glowing deathless acts as sunlight for the purposes of vampiric weaknesses.
Nourishment (ToRL) - They have begun to appear around the edges of the underplayground, and continue their usual action of restoration.
Remaining AP: [3]

Althia, Cho'zak, Lum'ohs and various undead - Frozen Stoixia

Althia arrived in the north and found the undead. She looked around the north, and focused on something that stood out beyond the sight of the children. The Crystalline Palace.

Kealoharen & Zermanion - Dawnwatch, Solar's Peak Mountains

"You say you are a shield, and yet you are making a sword. I will go, see what is occuring for myself. But I shall be clear - if they have attacked, it is no surprise. A cornered animal will fight when it has no other escape. One who attacks, provokes." Kealoharen rushed off to the distance, finding the Avatar of Zermanion and her forces. "Please - stop this fighting. War will only create more suffering. Pain will only create more suffering. Peace can only be achieved through understanding."

Kealoharen looked at the torn forest, the harpies, the strange and twisted things. In one way, Kealoharen saw why Zermanion had come to this place. Visibly twisted. Within the forest, light shining only from the stray light-tipped tendril. But these things were not necessarily good or evil. They were different. They did not have to be evil - nothing had to be evil, surely.

Kealoharen's flight marked a significant time after the original pulse of their origin. The energy began to settle across the land - and infants began to be born... special. Blessed by the love of the god. These new creatures were not inherently vengeful or judgemental - though those created by the power of other gods in the future could be. They were born beloved by the god, even if Kealoharen knew none of them yet - They would always feel loved.

Spoiler: Kealoharen AP

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Initial AP: [0]
AP Gain : [+3] (Rollover) [+2 Bonus] (New IC)
Subtotal AP: [3+2]
AP Expediture:
Create Populace (Aasimar) [-2] - Kealoharen has created the player race Aasimar. Currently, the Aasimar that exist take on the loving traits of Kealoharen. Any Aasimar created of other good gods in the future will have traits more akin to the god that created them. (Potentially a side effect of large bursts of goodness)
Remaing AP: [3]

Spoiler: Cleric Stuff

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Clerics of Kealoharen are only allowed to heal, and rebuking is preferred to turning. Vampire hunters should apply elsewhere.

**thethird** · 2015-05-23, 03:18 PM (ISO 8601)

Landro Krenko - Ka

The ashen skinned goblin is weird. For starters he is a goblin, not an aram nor any of the other goblinoid subraces that sprung afterwards. He also happens to have a heart that's not beating, but that ain't a problem he moves just fine. His face is covered in a thick and polished golden mask and a red scarf that seems to evaporate into nothingness. But not many look at his face. They look at his back, for he carries a heavy bag with a hole. From the hole the bag's content is spilling leaving a trail of golden coins. But this ain't no Hansel and Gretel story, those shiny coins aren't going to be left in place. Goblins surely don't mind kneeling to get some change, or kneeling someone to get the change that they would otherwise pick. Hey, free market!

Landro for that's the ashen goblin's name appears unconcerned with his thinning cargo. He just keeps wandering the city listening and all too rarely making questions about a so called Kith. A master thief or somesuch.

Voth, Lylien - Lylien

The goddess observes the newcommer. He is garbed in a formal tunic that went out of style in the moon a couple of centuries ago. Black cloth with fractal geometric designs with little to no color in them. He also wore gold, a lot, not only a mask but vambraces too. Such metalic ostentation wasn't the norm in the forest, prosperity dragons being a valid concern there.

She had tried reaching him telepathically but the creature hadn't given a sign of being able to hear her. What was it? Garbed like a mongrel of old with skin the color of ash and with no response to the mental network that all moongrel shared? Was it even a moongrel? The goddess decided to speak the kin tongue.

"What do you want?"

The stranger looked confused, but he answered swiftly. Using the same secret tongue perfectly.

"To teach."

"Why?"

"I made a deal."

"Whom?"

"Aita."

The goddess looked at the strangely garbed man, wondering why he had used that particular word. Perhaps having the conversation on the kin tongue, as opposed to mentally, lead to potential lies and misunderstanding. Yet him using the word father couldn't be fortuituous. What was her father up to?

When the goddess decided that there was nothing wrong in discovering she allowed the Returned to preach his teachings. With his admittance to the mech city the Itzulk, the name spread like wildfire, instalated himself close to the seed chorus. Mirrored the seeds and him were complementing opposites, one was a body without memories and the others were memories without bodies. Apparently they found solace in each others pressence.

Spoiler

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Lylien 3 AP + 2 AP (bonus) + 3 AP rollover + 1 PAP
3 AP Claim Domain: Runes
2 AP Claim Portfolio: Writing

3 AP + 1 PAP remaining

Eucle 1 PAP

1 PAP Create Concept (Moon: Power is Power): Shadowcasting Itzulk, and those taught by them, can access the power from Erebus (the plane of shadow) becoming Shadowcasters (Tome of Magic). Please though, note the quasi-official fix by the class creator (which should be in place):

1) Grant bonus mysteries per day based on Int. These would work just like bonus spells. For instance, if your Int is 14, you can cast one extra mystery of 1st-level equivalent and one of 2nd-level equivalent per day. (Note that each mystery does give an equivalent level, even though you don't learn them by level.)

2) Eliminate the rule that says you have to take mysteries in a given Path in order. If you want to jump around, so as to broaden your versatility, you can. You must still have at least one mystery of any given level equivalent (1st, 2nd, etc.) before you can get a mystery of the next higher level within a type (Apprentice, Initiate, Master), but they need not come from the same Path.

3) Eliminate the rule that says you get a bonus feat equal to half the number of paths you have access to. Instead, you get a bonus feat equal to the total number of Paths you complete. Thus, while you are no longer required to take the entirety of a given Path, there's still encouragement to do so.

4) Allow the shadowcaster to swap out mysteries, like a sorcerer does spells, with the caveat that if you suddenly "un-complete" a Path, you lose a feat as well.

5) Once your Apprentice Mysteries become supernatural abilities, change the save DC from 10 + equivalent spell level + Cha to 10 + 1/2 caster level + Cha. This makes them useful even against high-HD opponents, and follows the pattern for other supernatural abilities.

The other class created by the create concept is: the etherjammer. One of my favourite Kellus' classes.

0 AP Teach Populace (using Ignus' Hammer): Etherjam; Since we don't have an Ethereal plane Etherjammers can Etherjam whenever in a plane coterminous to the realm of dreams. If Etherjammers follow Eucle, or they are Moongrel not acting against him they can also Etherjam in any plane coterminous to Dream Neutral Ground. Any plane with dream trees or dreaming skeletons in it is considered coterminous to Dream Neutral Ground.

0 AP remaining

**Shmee** · 2015-05-23, 07:26 PM (ISO 8601)

Originally Posted by Hatter

Divine Decree, Avalon, Eldarond - Ulvin, Kyrokoli

"Because I will fight back. My Father would fight back and with the proper motivation, the other member of my pantheon would fight back. Three gods, against you. You are smarter than that and that is not your true purpose here, for how can one who has no heart or emotion feel sickened and disgusted? How can one such person have wrath?" Ulvin sat on his throne.

"No. You have another purpose for being here. Enough threats. I will not grovel to you. I will not plead or beg of you. I am not beholden to you nor am I or will I ever be subservient to you. Tell me why you are truly here." He leaned back straight in his throne and calmly placed his hands in his lap with his fingers interlocked together.

Kryokoli shakes her head "As I said, my purpose is to judge your character, for I feel that you may very well be one of the major obstacles that I may face as I march across the Playground. You have misunderstood me. Perhaps I no longer feel any emotions, but I once knew what it meant to feel sickened and disgusted. And I know very well that these are the feelings I would have if I could feel them at all."

"So your answer is to threaten me with your allies. Is that the honor of Ulvin Silverblade? To have three gods gang up on me as they did my to mother? Perhaps you would also force yourself upon me while you are at it? You have truly misunderstood me, for the reason I'm facing you today is because I know that you will fight back. Pick up your weapon, and face me. It shall be a test of strength, you against me with no outside interference."

"I challenge you and your honor Ulvin Silverblade. Prove to me that you can face me in a duel between good and evil."

Spoiler

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Kryokoli

AP=8-3: Declare Divine Combat against Ulvin Silverblade. (Rolling will start as soon as we agree on the location.)

Originally Posted by smashingBrawler

Althia, Cho'zak, Lum'ohs and various undead - Frozen Stoixia

Althia arrived in the north and found the undead. She looked around the north, and focused on something that stood out beyond the sight of the children. The Crystalline Palace.

As the undead approach the Crystalline Palace, a pack of the largest wolfs that they have ever seen approach them, in effect encircling the intruders. Keeping a distance, the largest one approaches the undead and begins to sniff them "Rotten flesh... barely eatable and not alive. Who are you, and what do you seek in these forsaken lands?" growls Fenrir.

Originally Posted by Gunhaven

Cap'n Hookpatch, Squeaks, Skreetchy - Under Mytea
Hookpatch grinned at Skreetchy and said "Ye...Yer a good one matey. Where we start plunderin'? Hookpeg been itchin' to gather some scales!" He then began to stumble about since the hole was getting sealed and began to work on a bomb to either blow up the bunker or blow up Mytea; he didn't care as long as something would go in a big boom.

"The problem are... THOSE PESKY GODS!" screams Skreechy "THERE ARE JUST TOO MANY OF THEM WALKING AROUND THE PLAYGROUND... and for reasons that I just can't understand ...I AM NOT A GOD! Otherwise I'd be giving them a taste of their own medicine... BY THROWING PEANUTS AT THEM! YOU LIKE YOUR PEANUTS? HAVE ANOTHER PEANUT! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA" cackles the insane Goblin to the heavens. "If we are going to take over the Playground, we are going to need to become as powerful as the gods... BUT HOW?"

**Hatter** · 2015-05-23, 09:17 PM (ISO 8601)

Divine Decree, Avalon, Eldarond - Ulvin, Kyrokoli

At her challenge, Ulvin stood and gazed long and hard at Kyrokoli. "I accept, Kyrokoli of the Crystalline Tower but you will not have your duel here or anywhere near civilized lands where innocents may be hurt. Instead, I propose that we take this duel to the Northwest. There is a group of islands there called the Reean Isles. We shall duel upon the northern most island." with his proposal being said, he begins to walk out of Divine Decree and upon exiting it's doors, he simply vanished to reappear on the northern most island of the Reean Isles.

The Reean Isles - Ulvin, Kyrokoli

As soon as Kyrokoli appeared before him on the sandy beach, Ulvin detatched Hero from his waist and the blade immediately appeared in response to his touch. Ulvin brought the blade down and held it in both hands, the tip of Hero's blade stabbing into the sand. "Whenever you are ready, Ice Queen."

Krenko-Ka - Kith, Landro
"You're a strange one." said Kith as he appeared, cornering the strange goblin in a dark alley, today Kith was dressed in his tight fitting bodysuit, his ninja mask barely pulled up over his chin. "Heard you're looking for me. Not many people come knocking for Kith."

Bunker, Under Mytea - Skreechy, Cpt. Hookpatch, Squeaks

Squeaks stared at Skreechy in almost disbelief before saying. "What if we had a god's weapon. We be strong then?"

The shy goblin covered his mouth as soon as he opened it, a small shudder coursing through his body.

**Ralasha** · 2015-05-23, 09:38 PM (ISO 8601)

The Frozen North: Random Roadside Campsite - Roaming Traders, Hemeliosa

Sitting around a campfire, traiding tales, singing, drinking, and generally being merry are two groups of merchants, good humor being rather abundant amongst these two groups. On a large round cross-section of a very large tree, generally carried by such groups for this purpose, as it tends to be rather common... sits Hemeliosa.

She rests, listening to their talk of ancient tales, ghost stories, of Heroes of theirs... which never lived, performing deeds never done. She would not disillusion them. Let them have what enjoyment they can, the world isn't kind after all, and this land was not made to coddle them, but to make them strong.

The fire throws shadows, which dance in the starlight, re-enacting the tales being told, or sung. Her expression, as usual is impassive as she watches over her children. Making certain the monsters in the dark stay clear for the time being.

The fire sputters in the cold, and leaps back up to it's original height. The headwinds coming down from the mountains to the south are cold. Breath hangs in the air, falling slowly to the ground like snowfall viewed from far above on a cloudless night.

The stars above twinkle merrily, as though enjoying the tales being told beneath them as much as those doing the telling or the listening. There is no bad news here tonight.

Hemeliosa decides to join in the telling, and a tale is woven of a Skald. This Skald does not exist, at least, it did not exist. But as her tale is spun, it's essence is given form. The light and shadows mingle, giving rise to merriment, the sound of laughter is heard, but not from those present. It takes it form as it steps forth, a new god being born. A god of tales and poetry, those around the fire... all look hesitant.

Your show.

**Zelphas** · 2015-05-23, 10:00 PM (ISO 8601)

Lawforged--The Chief Courthouse, Lawsblood, Axia

Despite the iron control that all First Forged were expected to maintain in emulation of their god, Larut III was excited. A direct representative of Kethneciel, was coming to Lawsblood in nine blinks' time to give judgment to the god of Nature and the god of Winter. It was a historic time for the nation of law and order.

Of course, Larut I had long ago written down laws for accepting a dignitary of the Implacable Judge with due reverence, as well as how to welcome a representative of Nature. Larut II had written out how to accept the goddess of Winter to their kingdom as soon as he heard of her existence. Larut III also created preparatory committees for accepting Ignus, Hemeliosa, Eucle, Yrzhallus, and several other minor gods and demigods, should they arrive.

Within seven blinks, everything was ready. In a state of great reverence and ceremony, the citizens of Axia awaited the coming of the representative of their god.

Kethneciel--Judgment Seat, Oussia

after making sure that Pernieth no longer needed him, Kethneciel returns to his Judgment Seat and ponders.

Death was one of the first and greatest Laws this universe had. Reincarnation did not break this law, not truly; but it robbed the law of its weight, its teeth. And the god of Death had done nothing. Kethneciel nodded to himself, and vanished.

Kethneciel--Erebus

The Implacable Judge presented himself to the Keepers to meet the god of death. They told him the impossible: the Death god had himself succumbed to death. The Implacable Judge, with permission of the Keepers, scoured Erebus for Kyre. He found nothing.

Finally, Kethneciel stood in the ruins of the Castle of Eternal Night. The death god was dead; he was not able to uphold his law. The Implacable Judge nodded once, and struck the ground of Erebus with the butt of his great axe. It fell to him then. He snapped his fingers, and vanished.

Where Kethneciel struck the ground, up shone a blinding white light. This light fractured into several dazzling motes, and then shot out of Erebus in all directions, descending upon the Playground in an invisible storm. Mortal creatures found that one in ten of the children birthed in the next several blinks were cleverer, more creative, and simply more full of life than the others around.

The result of Kethneciel's second act in Erebus would be less noticeable--at first. Even when it became known, only the gods would see it. Eventually, the great cycle of reincarnation...slowed. Certain, ancient souls found themseves before Kethneciel, remembering and reciting their actions from every lifetime to him. They were then sent to the suitable afterlife of the suitable god, where they remained. Forever.

Kahla--The Spawning Pool, Craast Dominus

Kahla stirred, uneasy. The goddess, the enemy, had not surfaced. She calmed herself quickly, however; it would come when it would come, and she would meet it and adapt when it did.

Spoiler: Actions

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Kethneciel
2 AP + 7 AP (Rollover) + 2 AP (New IC) = 11 AP

-3 AP: Create Utility Artifact--Nourishment (the Well of Souls). For the first time in eons, new souls decend to the Playground, bringing new ideas and an outburst of creativity and life.

-1 AP: The Law of Death (Pestilence). Starting when Kethneciel snapped his fingers, reincarnation caps at twenty lives. After their twentieth life, the souls are sent to the Judgment Seat, where Kethneciel reviews all of their past actions and sends them to the most proper afterlife. They remain there, under the sway of their god, forever.

Kahla
1 AP + 3 AP (Rollover) + 2 AP (New IC) = 6 AP

No actions yet.

**Durmatagno** · 2015-05-23, 10:08 PM (ISO 8601)

Rosian stops and stares at his hand, flexing it with uncertainty. Already at his hip he could feel a weight, unfamiliar, and yet comforting. Around his shoulders was a cloak as dark as the deepest abyss, but in the dim light, the lights of the very stars could be seen clearly. His skin was pale, and fair, but his hair matched his cloak. On his nose were rectangular glasses, seemingly plain, but behind them were eyes that, from the campfire, sparkled as polished silver. He rolled his neck, chuckling lightly as he got used to the feeling of...everything. Sights, sound, smells, his own body as it moved through, and he slowly came to realize he wasn't alone.

Many people, about his size, though he got the feeling he could change that if he wished, were around him, but what drew his eye was a large, brass skinned woman with a single wing. He could feel the echos of laughter in his mouth, and power coursing in his veins. He could also feel.......he couldn't put it into words, it was limitless, and yet easily forgotten. Like a streak of a shooting star across the night sky. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, struggling to figure out what to say, as his mind raced through jumbled thoughts of who, what, why, and trying to figure out how to quantify the thing he was thinking. Through all this confusion, a single word crept to his lips. It was an odd word, he didn't immediately understand it's meaning, but as soon as he uttered it, he knew.

"Rosian."

After that, there were other words. Future, hope, despair, danger, fire, world, but Rosian, and a new phrase, something he wouldn't understand yet, kept repeating themselves. The Forgotten Dreamer. Perhaps he would never know what they meant, everything was to new to him, and yet....he felt...right, the weight on his hip, the glasses on his nose, the cloak surrounding his body.

The cloak. His mind wandered once more, and it shimmered, and shifted, turning white, and upon it came images of villages, and towns. The beauty of a simple life, a farmer in his field, a Shepard with his flock, a blacksmith at his forge, a child running in the grass, or sand, or sometimes even snow, though that was hard to tell apart from his cloak. The weight at his side shifted slightly as it's long, slender blade became etched with images, some disturbing, some amazing, though he would not know this until he drew the weapon from it's sheath. All he knew right now was that it was great to be alive, and that there was so much in this world that he would love.

**Ralasha** · 2015-05-23, 10:14 PM (ISO 8601)

Originally Posted by Durmatagno

Rosian stops and stares at his hand, flexing it with uncertainty. Already at his hip he could feel a weight, unfamiliar, and yet comforting. Around his shoulders was a cloak as dark as the deepest abyss, but in the dim light, the lights of the very stars could be seen clearly. His skin was pale, and fair, but his hair matched his cloak. On his nose were rectangular glasses, seemingly plain, but behind them were eyes that, from the campfire, sparkled as polished silver. He rolled his neck, chuckling lightly as he got used to the feeling of...everything. Sights, sound, smells, his own body as it moved through, and he slowly came to realize he wasn't alone.

Many people, about his size, though he got the feeling he could change that if he wished, were around him, but what drew his eye was a large, brass skinned woman with a single wing. He could feel the echos of laughter in his mouth, and power coursing in his veins. He could also feel.......he couldn't put it into words, it was limitless, and yet easily forgotten. Like a streak of a shooting star across the night sky. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, struggling to figure out what to say, as his mind raced through jumbled thoughts of who, what, why, and trying to figure out how to quantify the thing he was thinking. Through all this confusion, a single word crept to his lips. It was an odd word, he didn't immediately understand it's meaning, but as soon as he uttered it, he knew.

"Rosian."

After that, there were other words. Future, hope, despair, danger, fire, world, but Rosian, and a new phrase, something he wouldn't understand yet, kept repeating themselves. The Forgotten Dreamer. Perhaps he would never know what they meant, everything was to new to him, and yet....he felt...right, the weight on his hip, the glasses on his nose, the cloak surrounding his body.

The cloak. His mind wandered once more, and it shimmered, and shifted, turning white, and upon it came images of villages, and towns. The beauty of a simple life, a farmer in his field, a Shepard with his flock, a blacksmith at his forge, a child running in the grass, or sand, or sometimes even snow, though that was hard to tell apart from his cloak. The weight at his side shifted slightly as it's long, slender blade became etched with images, some disturbing, some amazing, though he would not know this until he drew the weapon from it's sheath. All he knew right now was that it was great to be alive, and that there was so much in this world that he would love.

An easy silence comes into being around the fire. Uncertainty apparent on the faces of the mortals. Hemeliosa though smiles.

"Hemeliosa." She bows from her position. "Would you care to join us?" She blinks, "Son...?" She blinks again in slight surprise at herself.

**Durmatagno** · 2015-05-23, 10:23 PM (ISO 8601)

Originally Posted by Ralasha

An easy silence comes into being around the fire. Uncertainty apparent on the faces of the mortals. Hemeliosa though smiles.

"Hemeliosa." She bows from her position. "Would you care to join us?" She blinks, "Son...?" She blinks again in slight surprise at herself.

Rosian's focus shifted back toe Hemeliosa, his eyes focusing, his mind clearing as it begin to organize itself.

"Hemeliosa...mother?"

The words were heavy and uncertain on his tongue, and as he spoke his cloak (and hair) shifted back into darkness before a wide smile plastered across his face, and he bowed in return, the movement a little uneasy from having only recently come into being.

"Join you? Hmm, yes, I think I shall join you, and these fine... he stops for a moment trying to find the right words, then decides on simply people."

He almost immediately sets himself on the ground, not caring for whatever was beneath him save that he wasn't on someone, or their things.

**Ralasha** · 2015-05-24, 01:49 AM (ISO 8601)

Originally Posted by Durmatagno

Rosian's focus shifted back toe Hemeliosa, his eyes focusing, his mind clearing as it begin to organize itself.

"Hemeliosa...mother?"

The words were heavy and uncertain on his tongue, and as he spoke his cloak (and hair) shifted back into darkness before a wide smile plastered across his face, and he bowed in return, the movement a little uneasy from having only recently come into being.

"Join you? Hmm, yes, I think I shall join you, and these fine... he stops for a moment trying to find the right words, then decides on simply people."

He almost immediately sets himself on the ground, not caring for whatever was beneath him save that he wasn't on someone, or their things.

Hemeliosa chuckles quietly, and looks around at her mortal children, "Well. Considering what happened this time... I think that that's enough story telling from me..." She glances over at the new God. "Apparently things can happen when a Goddess tells stories. Someone elses turn." She turns and looks at the man to her immediate left, putting him on the spot. He launches into a tale about a man who was not mortal, called Wolf-Bane. Apparently a wrestler of giants, trolls and giant wolves. The tale goes on for some time until he finally manages to slay a malicious demon, and saves the people of the north from the ravages of sleepless nights induced by terrifying nightmares.

Yet more stories are told, songs sung, and poems sung in the old way as the night wears on, until finally when the moon is at it's zenith they go to rest. Hemeliosa stands watch all night, being close to the Ice Shelf, it would be dangerous for any of them to be tired the next day, or even for someone to be awake alone, with the predators that live in the area.

If he wishes, Hemeliosa will pass time talking with him as she stands sentinel. Like some ancient and mythical guardian from one of the tales told that night, the inspiration, unbeknownst to the teller being Hemeliosa in the early days of their race.

**Shmee** · 2015-05-24, 08:41 AM (ISO 8601)

Originally Posted by Hatter

Bunker, Under Mytea - Skreechy, Cpt. Hookpatch, Squeaks

Squeaks stared at Skreechy in almost disbelief before saying. "What if we had a god's weapon. We be strong then?"

The shy goblin covered his mouth as soon as he opened it, a small shudder coursing through his body.

Skreechy claps his hands together "THAT'S IT! ITS A GREAT IDEA! I'M GLAD I THOUGHT OF IT!" he screams. "It's happened before, so why couldn't we do it?" Many had heard the legend of how Yusri had stolen the Tetsubo and defeated Dreg Oleg prior to the Battle of Purity. "But then the question is... WHICH WEAPON DO WE STEAL? Ideally it should be from one who isn't very active as it significantly decreases the chances that we'll get caught and punished..."

Originally Posted by Hatter

Divine Decree, Avalon, Eldarond - Ulvin, Kyrokoli

At her challenge, Ulvin stood and gazed long and hard at Kyrokoli. "I accept, Kyrokoli of the Crystalline Tower but you will not have your duel here or anywhere near civilized lands where innocents may be hurt. Instead, I propose that we take this duel to the Northwest. There is a group of islands there called the Reean Isles. We shall duel upon the northern most island." with his proposal being said, he begins to walk out of Divine Decree and upon exiting it's doors, he simply vanished to reappear on the northern most island of the Reean Isles.

The Reean Isles - Ulvin, Kyrokoli

As soon as Kyrokoli appeared before him on the sandy beach, Ulvin detatched Hero from his waist and the blade immediately appeared in response to his touch. Ulvin brought the blade down and held it in both hands, the tip of Hero's blade stabbing into the sand. "Whenever you are ready, Ice Queen."

Kryokoli watches as Ulvin gets up in an attempt to stop her from destroying his people. Typical Human behavior such as 'caring for others' seemed like an alien concept to Kryokoli. Regardless, although Ulvin had left his mortals in her cruel mercies, they counted for little in her eyes. They were not even worth the effort to muster her divine powers. So, the goddess of Winter erupts into a snow storm, and follows Ulvin to the Reean Isles where he was waiting for her.

For a few moments, Kryokoli inspects the battlefield trying to take in every details in case it may come in handy during the battle, or perhaps acts as a handicap. Deciding that she had seen enough, the goddess of Winter turns towards Ulvin and brings Wintertide to her hand. With a snap she whips her weapon on her ground and takes her battle stance as the two Demi-gods face one other.

For several tense moments the two gods simply stare at one another as each one awaits the other to make the first move. Their concentration is so great that the earth begins to rumble and shake, while above the island were the duel was behind held, the two immense battle auras unleashed form a perpetual hurricane around the island, with strong winds and rains forming a hazard to any mortal foolish enough to try and travel to this battlefield of the gods.

At that moment, Kryokoli decides to make an aggressive first move, as she plunges Wintertide into the ground, the scourge digging deep into the ground before homing towards Ulvin and catching him from the ankle in a surprise attack.

Spoiler

Show

Use Kryokoli's wedding ring: Pestilence: A perpetual hurricane is formed over the island. It never moves, but is extremely dangerous.

Kryokoli's Natural CR:5 +2.5 from Warrior Paradigim + 1 from her {C} ability and +2 for her {H} against Good + 1 (for 2 combat artifacts)= 11.5

Round 1 roll: (2d6)[6] +11.5

**thethird** · 2015-05-24, 09:48 AM (ISO 8601)

Krenko-Ka - Kith, Landro

The strange goblin jumps on his feet, his bag full of coins rattles at his movement. He has been startled by Kith appearance.

"What do I want? Yes-yes. Money-treasure, here, here. Catch."

The goblin throws his bag full of gold to the thief, it's mostly old stuff. Form when the humans still revered the sheperd and it has designs of him in the coins.

"More, much more much. If you take job-errand. Yes, yes. Much more."

Erebus - Kethneciel, Eucle

Eucle senses Kethneciel's presence and for a moment wonders if he should make himself known. The judging god being an entity that could potentially be useful and hard to manipulate Eucle almost wanted to keep himself out of his path. So for a while he just followed the other god, observing what he did. New souls, that... could be accomodated on his plans. But the other thing... The other thing was subtle. And the demon wasn't certain what it would imply, for himself or his plans. Ultimately he decided to be cautious, and let the judging god do his thing. For now.

**Durmatagno** · 2015-05-24, 10:26 AM (ISO 8601)

Originally Posted by Ralasha

Hemeliosa chuckles quietly, and looks around at her mortal children, "Well. Considering what happened this time... I think that that's enough story telling from me..." She glances over at the new God. "Apparently things can happen when a Goddess tells stories. Someone elses turn." She turns and looks at the man to her immediate left, putting him on the spot. He launches into a tale about a man who was not mortal, called Wolf-Bane. Apparently a wrestler of giants, trolls and giant wolves. The tale goes on for some time until he finally manages to slay a malicious demon, and saves the people of the north from the ravages of sleepless nights induced by terrifying nightmares.

Yet more stories are told, songs sung, and poems sung in the old way as the night wears on, until finally when the moon is at it's zenith they go to rest. Hemeliosa stands watch all night, being close to the Ice Shelf, it would be dangerous for any of them to be tired the next day, or even for someone to be awake alone, with the predators that live in the area.

If he wishes, Hemeliosa will pass time talking with him as she stands sentinel. Like some ancient and mythical guardian from one of the tales told that night, the inspiration, unbeknownst to the teller being Hemeliosa in the early days of their race.

Rosian stays awake at first, but as he lays on the ground, and stares at the sky, his mind wanders off, and eventually, he appears to be sleeping. This, however, is only partially true. In his slumber, his mind once more focuses on itself, and the world it had observed when he had been awake. Something felt....missing to him about this world. He couldn't quite figure out what it was, or what it meant, but he did know one thing, he could fix that.

Not entirely conscious of the effort, energy began to flow out of his body, forming the basis of an entire new piece of reality. A new plane, one that was infinite, and infinitely mutating. A realm where drifting minds would visit without ever realizing it, and see their dreams, and the dreams of others. As reality itself bent, and reformed under Rosian's will, his sword absorbed excess energy, energy from his own attempts to make the plane, and through his subconscious efforts, forged something else new in of itself. A deities sword, impossibly fast, a blur of motion in the hands of its owner.

From there more of this new gods energy flowed into the cloak draped around his shoulders, being shaped by his dreams, and without direction, a chaotic jumble where finally one thing stood out above all others, but in an instant as the black cloak was being infused with energy, even more flowed from him to shape it's twin, the white cloak.

Spoiler: Actions Taken Thus Far

Show

Starting AP: 17 (15 base new god; +2 New Thread Celebration)
17 - 3 = 14 (Create Plane; Vevoran, The Plane of Dreams)
14 - 3 = 11 (Create Battle Artifact; Night Terror, The Rapier)
11 - 3 = 8 (Create Utility Artifact; Cloak of Stars (Nourishment), The Black Cloak)
8 - 3 = 5 (Create Utility Artifact; Mortal Works (Pestilence), The White Cloak)

**Gunhaven** · 2015-05-24, 11:58 AM (ISO 8601)

Under Mytea - Skreetchy, Squeaky, and Cap'n
The Aram looked up from his bomb, two steps from completion, and pondered for a moment. With a grin he said "Th' Cacklin' Flame, who left us fer th' sky above, says thar's a whole bunch 'o guns up thar." He gazed at his broken rocket and then added "Give ole Pegpatch a tick... Ye'll get up thar..." He then stumbled over to a new pile and began to slap together one of the antiqued booster rockets to get them somewhere that had a proper facility.

The Glacial Sea (Frozen North/Stoxia)
The destruction of the first Crystalline Palace wasn't as complete as first suspected. The energies of two separate divinities in both creation and destruction saw a new life form slowly get born; a creature of the winter that helped personify the harshness of the winter and the tenacity of life. Slowly it created a home in the shards of the Crystalline Palace, changing as it burrowed through the ice in a new form of fire that had a tinge of cold to it, until finally it was settled. This creature then began to send out dreams to shamans of wayward tribes in an attempt to guide them.

These shamans found that slowly the cold empowered them until they were bonded with their personal eidolon. When they returned they could channel this rimefrost into bolts to help fell beasts, conjure forth creatures, and pierce the defenses of those who would harm the tribe. Each shaman was itself a leader of their tribe and soon became bonded in their shared experience. Yet they remained wild and free, enduring the winter and beast like their eidolons bore the shattering of the Crystalline Palace.

Spoiler: AP

Show

Grenzo: 5 (3+2 Bonus); Cultist, Sin PAP
3=5-2: Gain Portfolio (Factories) for eventual Craft(?) domain.

Hlo: 5 (3+2 Bonus); Sin PAP
The Sun and The Comet: Winter and Summer ease up for half the day, like always, while the Underplayground gets two scoops of sun for all plant kind.
3=5-2: Gain Portfolio (Comets) for eventual winter domain.
2=3-1: Create Subrace Rimefire Eidolon.
0=2-2: Create Organization "Seekers of the Ice". Associated Prestige Class "Frozen Witch
Frozen Witch is a combination of Frozen Mage and Rimefire Witch from Frostfall, base of Frozen Mage with the following changes:
Requires Mark of Kyrokoli (like Mark of Hleid except faint evil and +2 bonus versus good cold creatures) and making it to a Rimefire Eidolon.
Can cast spells of any type.

Loses Natural Armor increases, in its place gains the Rimefire Bond and Rimefire Bolt abilities of a Rimefire Witch.
Gains Word of Recall as a Rimefire Witch.
Gains Rimefire Apothesis as well as One with Cold as a Rimefire Witch.

**thethird** · 2015-05-24, 01:40 PM (ISO 8601)

Erebus - Eucle, Zahav - Zalal, Kyre (soon to become Maraut)

As the prosperity god returned to what remained of the greed one, now tasked with giving a chance to the underworld souls to return to the playground he got a gleeful surprise. Eucle's nature as a demon should have predestinated him for that, in fact one could say that he was born to do it. But that would spite the prosperity god. For he had worked it. Practiced it. Long alone keeping it to himself. Building the perfect pitch. Whatever Mezethera had blessed him he had taken well beyond. Oh, boy was he ready for this.

Barely contained elation drummed in his chest as he let his heavy weapons to the ground at his side. He pushed the hood which kept his face in darkness back. He arched back. And billowed. His jaw fell down as he laughed. A full joyful laughter. The chortle went above the audible failing for a second as if the god was taking air and then falling down like a bass reading the concerto. He had to hold himself, his hands against his chest reigning in.

It felt well to leave it out.

He steadied himself at last and took a step. And another one. His hands reaching forward. Like a blind man, he still wore his blindfold, he started touching the dead's face. He was thorough like a horse merchant examing the merchandise. Then satisfied at last he fall back and stood there. For a moment he considered laughing again. But he felt the unease in the surrounding undead, spooking creatures alien to emotion surely should count on some book, and decided against it.

"Zahav - Zalal, child, take their memories. Leave me alone with my sire."

The golden cherub moved fast jumping from returned to returned taking their shadows and ashes along with their memories. His empty heart beating with each experience partaken and spilling more shadow and ash.

Left alone with the dead death god Eucle smiled, fondly.

"Do you remember what you told me?"

The prosperity god moves to the ashen remains still standing and uncloaks him. He reaches for his hand and takes it among his own.

"One mere touch of yours would kill me. You said."

He puts the death god's hand against his cheek. Like a lover he draws close and embraces him.

"Well, I will find out if you remember. Don't worry. It will be quick."

Eucle gently pulled Kyre's head back and tangled the dead fingers on his blindfold pulling. When the demon's golden eyes were set free they locked on the death god and like the demons always did they pulled. Ah, the thrill of drinking dreams. The pleasure of partaking in memories. And memories older than he was. Delicious. He had taken his father's. He had taken his mother's. He had taken his son's. He had taken them all. He had devoured them. Gorged on them. And now he was drinking the old man. He would empty the shadow like a fine vintage casket. Gulping down mouthful after mouthful, dream after dream, memory after memory.

Kyre's mind was slowly but surely partaken. When only a blank slate barely having a spark on it the prosperity god let go. If he killed the creature full it would reincarnate. Rules were rules and were to be followed. Of course he wasn't above bending them.

Eucle studied for a moment the empty shell in front of him. Memory wouldn't be maintained. He knew. He had already tried with lesser beings. And he had taken the memories himself. He had the belated death god's plans. Now there was a moment to act on them.

Eucle reached inside himself, for his flaming essence. Stabbing his own chest he drew golden liquid. The most pure dreams of wealth bubbled on his hands. It was only a whisper for its promise would banish if spoken aloud. He raised both hands about the death god's standing faceless corpse and let the liquid pour down. Like an oblation the shadow god was born and anointed in golden light.

The wealth demon smiled as his new creature moved the orifice it had for a mouth drinking. Once the thirst passed he gave him some room and passed the cloak that had belonged to the death god, sure that Kyre was no more, around his shoulders.

"Child. What's your name?"

As he speaks the prosperity god takes the blindfold putting it in place once again, hiding the world from his golden eyes.

Vevoran - Simdred

Simdred looked like a woman slightly past her prime that still conserved most of her attractive. Rather than lavishly trying to remark her beauty she wore it like a fitting glove. Her form was encased in a white tunic, tight at the waist and voluptuos where it mattered withouth being ostentatious. Decoration wasn't alien to her and she wore a spidersil shawl wrapped around her abdomen. She wore too some jewelry, an appolite gem hang around her neck, yellow for the most part except for three dark green imperfections, a horizontal line that curved upwards at the edges and two dots over it. She wore also a mask. Half a mask, varely a quarter actually, it was black like the darkest night and it covered one her right eye. The mask was remarkable, torn at the edges close to her face but otherwise perfect as the finest lace with a flock of white feathers springing upwards. Behind her her hair, golden like her eyes, folded unto itself and was held in place by two Y shapped sticks.

She was sitting in the space between dreams, the small crack between imagination and creation watching the new plane unfold itself. Simdred was smiling but kept herself still not wanting to interrupt the dreaming god, nor to disrupt his doing. After all dreams were to be nurtured. To be cherished. To be embellished.

**Durmatagno** · 2015-05-24, 04:50 PM (ISO 8601)

Originally Posted by thethird

Vevoran - Simdred

Simdred looked like a woman slightly past her prime that still conserved most of her attractive. Rather than lavishly trying to remark her beauty she wore it like a fitting glove. Her form was encased in a white tunic, tight at the waist and voluptuos where it mattered withouth being ostentatious. Decoration wasn't alien to her and she wore a spidersil shawl wrapped around her abdomen. She wore too some jewelry, an appolite gem hang around her neck, yellow for the most part except for three dark green imperfections, a horizontal line that curved upwards at the edges and two dots over it. She wore also a mask. Half a mask, varely a quarter actually, it was black like the darkest night and it covered one her right eye. The mask was remarkable, torn at the edges close to her face but otherwise perfect as the finest lace with a flock of white feathers springing upwards. Behind her her hair, golden like her eyes, folded unto itself and was held in place by two Y shapped sticks.

She was sitting in the space between dreams, the small crack between imagination and creation watching the new plane unfold itself. Simdred was smiling but kept herself still not wanting to interrupt the dreaming god, nor to disrupt his doing. After all dreams were to be nurtured. To be cherished. To be embellished.

Vevoran Rosian

The plane finished forming, limitless, and eternal. Already countless orbs of dreams were forming, some were a child's simple dream for something sweet, while others were much darker, dreams of torture, and decadence. The edges of the dreams were always an equal space apart, regardless of warping, and size. This gave the entire plane an appearance of vibrating, as dreams shifted constantly, pushing, and pulling on each other, disappearing, and new dreams replacing them. Colors moved between them, reds, blues, greens, colors that humans couldn't even see, or imagine, and strands of pure darkness here and there. When a red and blue strand came close to touching each other, their otherwise simple, calm path and movement became violent as they shot off in different directions, ramming through several dreams which warped, and changed. A simple hill with someone sitting on it suddenly shifted to be a desert next to an oasis, while a dream of a battlefield suddenly became flooded, all the figures within moving slowly, but not seeming to notice.

One of the meandering strands of color brushed near Simdred, and became slightly erratic before changing direction away from her. Vevoran, the place where all dreams exist, is the dream of a god in of itself, as eternal as everything inside of it. His mind was unfocused, but it knew that not everything was as it should, and he couldn't put his finger on it. This feeling of unease awoke the slumbering demigod. After a moment to let his mind focus, he realized that Vevoran had evolved beyond a simple dream. He could feel something, just out of reach, ebbing, and pulsing. An undercurrent in the world itself, as if a stream of water was pouring out of a cup that never emptied. Reaching out, he grabbed a hold of it, and left the cold world of The Frozen North to enter the realm he had created, black cloak wrapped around him, stars invisible in the colors that was Vevoran. He was slightly shocked, he still didn't realize the full scope of his power, and to create something like this. It was wonderful, endless, every dream he could see was beautiful in it's own way, no matter how horrible or simple it was. The hopes, the dreams, the very desires of everything surrounded him, and he felt at home here. As if this is where he truly belonged.

**Ralasha** · 2015-05-24, 05:16 PM (ISO 8601)

The Judgement Seat Kenethciel, Ignus

Ignus herself appears before him this time, she greets him. "I have a complaint to make. My hammer has been taken. I would like it back. It is either this, or violence, which started the entire matter... though I'm rather certain he would have stolen it from me anyway... Eucle is the one which took my hammer. It is a part of me, I would like it returned. I do not believe he will do so willingly, so I come to you, that the matter might be settled peacefully."

**squidpope** · 2015-05-24, 08:01 PM (ISO 8601)

Spoiler

Show

Originally Posted by thethird

Erebus - Eucle, Zahav - Zalal, Kyre (soon to become Maraut)

As the prosperity god returned to what remained of the greed one, now tasked with giving a chance to the underworld souls to return to the playground he got a gleeful surprise. Eucle's nature as a demon should have predestinated him for that, in fact one could say that he was born to do it. But that would spite the prosperity god. For he had worked it. Practiced it. Long alone keeping it to himself. Building the perfect pitch. Whatever Mezethera had blessed him he had taken well beyond. Oh, boy was he ready for this.

Barely contained elation drummed in his chest as he let his heavy weapons to the ground at his side. He pushed the hood which kept his face in darkness back. He arched back. And billowed. His jaw fell down as he laughed. A full joyful laughter. The chortle went above the audible failing for a second as if the god was taking air and then falling down like a bass reading the concerto. He had to hold himself, his hands against his chest reigning in.

It felt well to leave it out.

He steadied himself at last and took a step. And another one. His hands reaching forward. Like a blind man, he still wore his blindfold, he started touching the dead's face. He was thorough like a horse merchant examing the merchandise. Then satisfied at last he fall back and stood there. For a moment he considered laughing again. But he felt the unease in the surrounding undead, spooking creatures alien to emotion surely should count on some book, and decided against it.

"Zahav - Zalal, child, take their memories. Leave me alone with my sire."

The golden cherub moved fast jumping from returned to returned taking their shadows and ashes along with their memories. His empty heart beating with each experience partaken and spilling more shadow and ash.

Left alone with the dead death god Eucle smiled, fondly.

"Do you remember what you told me?"

The prosperity god moves to the ashen remains still standing and uncloaks him. He reaches for his hand and takes it among his own.

"One mere touch of yours would kill me. You said."

He puts the death god's hand against his cheek. Like a lover he draws close and embraces him.

"Well, I will find out if you remember. Don't worry. It will be quick."

Eucle gently pulled Kyre's head back and tangled the dead fingers on his blindfold pulling. When the demon's golden eyes were set free they locked on the death god and like the demons always did they pulled. Ah, the thrill of drinking dreams. The pleasure of partaking in memories. And memories older than he was. Delicious. He had taken his father's. He had taken his mother's. He had taken his son's. He had taken them all. He had devoured them. Gorged on them. And now he was drinking the old man. He would empty the shadow like a fine vintage casket. Gulping down mouthful after mouthful, dream after dream, memory after memory.

Kyre's mind was slowly but surely partaken. When only a blank slate barely having a spark on it the prosperity god let go. If he killed the creature full it would reincarnate. Rules were rules and were to be followed. Of course he wasn't above bending them.

Eucle studied for a moment the empty shell in front of him. Memory wouldn't be maintained. He knew. He had already tried with lesser beings. And he had taken the memories himself. He had the belated death god's plans. Now there was a moment to act on them.

Eucle reached inside himself, for his flaming essence. Stabbing his own chest he drew golden liquid. The most pure dreams of wealth bubbled on his hands. It was only a whisper for its promise would banish if spoken aloud. He raised both hands about the death god's standing faceless corpse and let the liquid pour down. Like an oblation the shadow god was born and anointed in golden light.

The wealth demon smiled as his new creature moved the orifice it had for a mouth drinking. Once the thirst passed he gave him some room and passed the cloak that had belonged to the death god, sure that Kyre was no more, around his shoulders.

"Child. What's your name?"

As he speaks the prosperity god takes the blindfold putting it in place once again, hiding the world from his golden eyes.

Erebus - Eucle, Zahav - Zalal, Maruat

"I... I am..." The new god looked down at its form, then to the blindfolded figure before him. "I am not sure." The divine figure paused, taking account of its fingers, opening and closing its palms slowly as it re-acclimated to the world of the living. "I cannot seem to recall." Its gaze returned to Eucle. "Who are you? Perhaps your name will awaken some memory, or perhaps you have some idea as to how I got into this state of... fugue." The shadow god's legs collapsed, and it tumbled to the ground. "It seems my feet have forgotten as well." The new god chuckled, drawing its knee's towards itself and inspecting its legs for signs of injury. Seeing a thick black haze leaking from one of its joints, the god looked to its sire quizzically. "Or perhaps you can tell me why I bleed smoke instead of blood"

**Zelphas** · 2015-05-24, 10:24 PM (ISO 8601)

Originally Posted by Ralasha

The Judgement Seat Kenethciel, Ignus

Ignus herself appears before him this time, she greets him. "I have a complaint to make. My hammer has been taken. I would like it back. It is either this, or violence, which started the entire matter... though I'm rather certain he would have stolen it from me anyway... Eucle is the one which took my hammer. It is a part of me, I would like it returned. I do not believe he will do so willingly, so I come to you, that the matter might be settled peacefully."

Seated behind his Judgment Seat, Kethneciel turns his scarred face to the goddess of the Genasi, nodding to acknowledge her presence. "It is but a short time until the trial between Kryokoli and Pernieth commences; however, that is by proxy, and if thee and Eucle agree to meet here in person to sort out this grievance, I shall manage both equally." He then turns to face out of his plane, seeming to stare at something other than the world below.

Marut IV, Eucle, Maraut--Erebus

A statue, so still for so long that it seemed part of the shadows of Erebus itself, suddenly moves once more, vanishing and reappearing in short hops all along the shadowy plane until it comes upon Eucle and the new-made god. "Eucle, god of Wealth," the metal creature intones. "My master, Kethneciel, requests thy presence at his Judgment Seat in Oussia at thy earliest convenience. Ignus, Goddess of Renewal, has accused thee of stealing her hammer, and appealed to Kethneciel for a peaceful resolution. If thou art willing, he would find the truth of the matter in her story and yours."

Spoiler: Actions

Show

Kethneciel
7 AP

-2 AP: Gain Portfolio (Souls).
-3 AP: Gain Domain (Death). Actions Taken:
---1 AP: Nourishment (Final Judgment), assuring all souls go to the proper afterlife.
---3 AP: Artifact (The Well of Souls), creating new, fresh souls for the Playground and Underplaygroud.
---1 AP: Pestilence (The Law of Death), limiting reincarnation to 20 lives.

2 AP Remaining

Kahla
6 AP

-2 AP: Gain Portfolio (Adaptation).
-3 AP: Gain Domain (Competition). Actions Taken:
---3 AP: Artifact (The Hatchery), for making new Craast to deal with challenges.
---2 AP: Organization (The Brood of Kahla), a society all about competiting and adapting to the world around
them.

1 AP Remaining

**Hatter** · 2015-05-25, 12:18 AM (ISO 8601)

Reean Isles - Ulvin Vs. Kyrokoli

Ulvin brought his sword up to brace for impact against Kyrokoli's attack. He swung his blade towards the Winter Queen, a more powerful opponent with little regard for the power difference, he was after all the God of Courage. He threw himself into combat with a might roar.

The way in which Wintertide moved certainly caught Ulvin off-guard and while he was able to block most of the attack, the force of which the scourge lashed out was enough to knock the god to a knee with an earth shattering thud.

The King Knight immediately counter attacked, using his free hand and the might of his powerful legs, he kicked himself up off the ground with such a force that sounded like a massive thunderclap, tilting the island in a downward slope towards the East. Ulvin charged up towards Kyrokoli with Hero in hand, bringing the divine blade around for a well disciplined sideways swipe at Kyrokoli's mid-section.

Spoiler: Combat AP actions

Show

0AP - Mold Land: The northernmost island of the Reean Isles now has tilted and sloped down towards the east

Krenko-Ka - Kith, Landro

Kith sidestepped the bag and simply let it fall to the ground beside him. The Aram used a foot to kick the bag open, examining the contents while still keeping an eye on the strange ashen skinned goblin, a bit of suspicion crossing his scaled face. "This is some pretty old treasure. Worth a lot to the right kind of buyer. I imagine some of the Shepards cultists might be interested in it."

Kith licked his lips, almost afraid to know the answer to the question he would ask. "Ultimately, you're paying a large sum and then some. You clearly know of my skill-set...What is it that you wish me to acquire?"

Bunker, Under Mytea - Skrechy, Squeaks, The Captain

"So... We are going up there then?" Squeaks points a finger up towards the Void with a nervous expression on his face. Realization kicked in and he let out a small squeak. "I need to prepare! We need rations and supplies!" He immediately hopped over to some crates, grabbed a dufflebag and started loading it up with various items, ranging from deadly looking weapons of all kinds, trap assemblies, tools, dry foods and ethanol.

The Madhouse - Kerx, Lukus

Kerx, the God of Luck's special little hand bounded through the wild and chaotic scape that was the Madhouse, finally the Horned Goblin came to a stop upon a floating rock well within his god's territory. He looked around with a grin before simply stretching his arms out infront of him and cracking his knuckles in a preparatory fashion. "Aight! Time ta get this started!" shouted the avatar as a beautiful humanoid creature floated down through the murky air of the Madhouse to stand beside Horned Goblin, his skin ashen black, jagged scars adorned his back where once were wings and a pair of small horns protruded from his head.

"What are you doing, Kerx?" asked the creature.

"I'mma make this part of the MadHouse into something truly awe inspiring where our Master's Khaadi and the Corrupted Solars can truly thrive in Chaos! Ya just sit back and watch a divine at work, Lukus!" and with that being said, Kerx threw his hands forward and dragged his fingers across the non-existant horizon as various thorns and vines and trees without a seeming beginning or end immediately come to life all around them, some tearing into earth and some pieces of floating rock seeming to rapidly expand to cover Ahn's territory in darkness.

When all was said and done, the territory which made up Ahn's portion of the MadHouse became something of a both a mass of dark and damp tunnels and caves sloppily meshed together with what could only be described as twisted forests of thorns, darkness, rot and marsh in much the same manner as the Ravenwood. Within this mass of Chaos, spirits of Ahn's faithful, those whom evolved into Khaadi and those too weak to be the predators thrived in every dark corner. In the very center where Kerx and the First Corrupted Solar stood was a small clearing with lush green grass, a tiny and gentle stream flowing through it with clear and flawless water right next to a warm looking cottage with a simple straw thatched roof and a brick chimney which puffed smoke into the foreboding and chaotic air of the Plane of Chaos.

Kerx said with a wide fang-filled laugh as he hopped up and down with utter glee "Now! Our Master's home is complete! He's gonna to be thrilled!"

Eastern Shore, The Sovereignty, The Apex - Ships

It was a full moon out that night, the sky was clear and the stars were alight. The beach was calm and peaceful with nothing special to see and quite frankly who wouldnt enjoy this peace with a face full of glee?

All was calm, the beaches were lined with leaves of palm. That is of course, until 13 wooden ships came crashing against the waves straight into the Eastern Shore. 13 ships, great trade and cargo ships, some bearing the flags and symbols of Eldarond, some of Reean Isle pirates, some of Mytea and even one from the Neutral Grounds.

These ships from appearance were unmanned. Not a single light was lit. Not a single man, woman, child or beast stood upon the decks or manned the bird's nests. The ships looked like they have been through hell and back again. Not a single sound could be heard save for the eerie creak of wood and the gentle whistle of wind passing through holes in the hulls.

**Shmee** · 2015-05-25, 03:33 AM (ISO 8601)

Originally Posted by Hatter

Reean Isles - Ulvin Vs. Kyrokoli

Ulvin brought his sword up to brace for impact against Kyrokoli's attack. He swung his blade towards the Winter Queen, a more powerful opponent with little regard for the power difference, he was after all the God of Courage. He threw himself into combat with a might roar.

The way in which Wintertide moved certainly caught Ulvin off-guard and while he was able to block most of the attack, the force of which the scourge lashed out was enough to knock the god to a knee with an earth shattering thud.

The King Knight immediately counter attacked, using his free hand and the might of his powerful legs, he kicked himself up off the ground with such a force that sounded like a massive thunderclap, tilting the island in a downward slope towards the East. Ulvin charged up towards Kyrokoli with Hero in hand, bringing the divine blade around for a well disciplined sideways swipe at Kyrokoli's mid-section.

Spoiler: Combat AP actions

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0AP - Mold Land: The northernmost island of the Reean Isles now has tilted and sloped down towards the east

The Scourge emerges from the ground and wraps itself around Ulvin's ankle. As it touches the god, he begins to feel its chill spreading across his foot, but Kryokoli still hadn't begun her true attack. Once Wintertide is wrapped around Ulvin's ankle, Kryokoli giver her weapon a violent tug which causes Ulvin to trip. Before he can land on the ground, the goddess of Winter tugs her weapon once more, sending Ulvin into the air. Giving one more tug, Kryokoli sends Ulvin crashing violently onto the ground, the sheer force of the impact causing a lake to form, while the island itself cracks causing several lakes leading into the ocean to form.

Having executed her attack, Kryokoli masterfully manipulates her scourge, releasing Ulvin and returning to its natural state. As Ulvin takes a few moments to recover from the blow he received, Kryokoli is flinging her scourge around, demonstrating her abilities, all the while taunting the god of Courage. Ulvin gets up and then goes to the offensive, as Kryokoli braces herself for his onslaught.

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Round 1 Free Mold land: The island has a lake in its center, with several rivers which goes to the ocean.

Round 2 Roll: (2d6)[5] +11.5

**Rainshine** · 2015-05-25, 04:34 AM (ISO 8601)

Keth’mail

Beneath the mountain was his home. He had known that for a long time. That’s where his people was, that’s where the sleeping threat was. It was where he belonged. Then why was he here?

The rhetorical question aside, he knew perfectly well. Someone had to come up to pick up the shipment of rhensing root. After his dear Arshish-tek’mai accident during that rockfall last week… Well, it was up to him. And really, it wasn’t such a hard duty, was it? Keth’mai studiously avoided looking up at the sky. Not nearly as comforting as a cavern roof. A person could just fall into it and keep falling all the way past the sky… He jerked his eyes away again, staring at the wagons that filled the massive plateau, humming a tune to himself to try to calm his nerves. Let’s see… An old piece, he knew it as “The King’s Shilling”, although what a shilling was, he wasn’t really sure. Or why King Surtur would have one.

There, the crossed leaves showed the caravan he was seeking. A prosperous one, doing plenty of business, with several wagons lined up together. Slipping through the crowd, keeping his muzzle down, Keth’mai threaded over, bowing with a flourish of his robes to the lean and hard matron overseeing the counter. She glanced over, favoring him with a businesslike nod. “What will you have?”
Quietly, he lifted the medallion from around his neck, the chain digging into his scales as he let her see the symbol in bas relief on the metal. The look in her eyes changed when she saw it, and she took another apprising look at him, her hands searching under the counter as she nodded again. She produced a small, cloth wrapped bundle, sliding it across to him. “The stone holds. The way is safe,” she said formally. As Keth’mai reached up for it, however, the spell was broken; another halfling nearly tumbled into the stall, rushing up to the woman and nearly bowling her over while waving some papers at her. He didn’t know the creatures could even talk that fast…
Whatever the differences in physiology or culture, though, the look that passed between the two halflings was quite clear. Keth’mai had seen it on Arshish’s face dozens of times. The newcomer caught the look, and noticed Keth’mai. Visibly tongue-tied, he made a small bow, extending his hand to Keth’mai -- still holding a loose-leaf book. The halfling looked at his own hand, like it was some sort of strange creature, then shook himself, putting the book down and extending the hand for a shake. Keth’mai shook the hand slowly, smiling to himself. Then his eyes roamed over the book -- and froze in mid-shake.
Keth’mai was a kobold. The whole race had been gifted many years ago with gifts in the fields of engineering and mathematics. While he had no particular giftings in that area, he understood much of the basics of it. Or, thought he did. What he saw on that single page was something so far beyond what he knew, what any kobolds knew. More than that, though, Keth’mai was a bit of an administrator. One who dreamed in music and song, but who knew and appreciated other’s gifts. What he saw on that page spoke to all of that in him, and struck him dumb. He dropped the handshake, staring, and pointing. “You did that?”
The man’s wife answered for him, wrapping an arm around his waist. “He did. The buildings of Swifsen are among the world’s finest,” she said, proudly.
Keth’mai reached out a bony finger, tapping the sheet that had slid loose from the book. “And this one? What great city calls this home?” It was magnificent, beautiful, and perhaps a reason for even Keth’mai to want to travel.
The woman looked at her husband again, with another look. Almost… indignation this time. “That one… Um. It doesn’t.”
Her husband took a deep breath, grabbing the book, shuffling the papers back in, then caught Keth’mai’s look. It wasn’t going to be that easy. “It’s just a theoretical drawing, really. I drew it, it’s just… I don’t know what it is.”
Very distantly, Keth’mai heard music; strong strings, pounding drums, and he knew no one else could hear it. A smile crossed his muzzle as he looked at the halfling. It was just as well Arshish had been injured. “I think I do. And we’re going to build it.”

Mianmi

The future was shifting again and again; it always was. But the portents shifted, and darkness fell over the land. Yet, as it did, things became more clearly. Stripped away and burnt were so many other paths, so many different futures. Soon, there would only be one, and she walked willingly toward it. Each step, each note, bringing it closer. The song must be sung.

In the Deeps

Zzizchin was not any cetacea. Even as a calf, she had been just a little… different. Before she was two, she was following around several of the biologists, watching them work. By five, Zzizchin was helping them in their works as best she could.
Then she began to grow up. If that wasn’t bad enough, there was another, Domvic who was almost as obsessed. The older cetacea tolerated them, at first, then began to grow concerned. Those two, though… Apart, they were smart. Together, they were brilliant.
Shipwrecks happened. Very occasional trade of sorts happened. The cetacea had the means to preserve books for reading underwater, but very few cared for reading as recreation. Still, it was a method for passing information.
One Zzizchin did not seem to need. Her knowledge and ways of doing things seemed to be from her very bones. Their new methods would be recognizable to some of the land dwellers as engineering; the way they worked at the life.

It went beyond that, though. Domvic and Zzizchin labored at another project, beyond their biological explorations and engineering in the lab. They worked on themselves. Mostly, on Zzizchin. They knew that there was something more, something beyond the things she knew, or the way she worked. The cetacea passed knowledge down, parent to calf, but this was beyond any ancestral thing. It was a part of who she was, as much as her tail. Yet, in her line of work, mortality was a fact of life. She was no Behemoth, created as the first of her race. So how then, to pass it down, that it was not lost? This is what they delved at.

What they did not know was it was beyond any mere science that they could achieve. It was a gift of the goddess, a supernatural ability to not only comprehend the things they worked with, but to reach out… and change.

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AP 4 + 10 (Rollover) + 2 (Bonus) - 3 (Create Artifact: Aspect of Genetics (Create Subrace) ) - 0 (Libram charge: Teach Populace: Bioengineering) = 13

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