[IC] Mid/High Casual - Divinus: The Deity Roleplay (Rebooted)

[ActRaiserTheReturned]

(( ----A very good post was written here.--- ))

[Scarifar]

Cyclone and Scarifar

Le beautiful summary

-Apparently Ialu was buried alive, and Ialu returned from the grave.
-Ialu takes his rightful(?) position on the throne.
-Ferghus and the Arma Igna Ialu banished appears in Ialu's presense.
-Blah blah blah, argument, blah blah blah.
-Ialu insults Ferghus a second time, and Ferghus places a curse on Ialu, then leaves.

Once, twice, thrice the gravedigger shovelled a heap of earth into the pit. Ialu lay limp in the bottom, the strange warrior having claimed their chieftain's life before seemingly dying themselves. That was nom atter; there was no shortage of bloodthirsty soldiers in Garakai that had been waiting like vultures for a chance to sieze power. They hadn't even buried either combatant (Viscardi's corpse had oddly vanished) before there had already been fighting over who would rule.

After a long sleep Ialu woke to utter darkness, or at least he suspected that there was utter darkness. He couldn't so much as open his eyelids, and he felt like he had the weight of the world bearing down upon his chest. It would have killed any normal man, but he refused to die.

In a sudden explosion the unmarked grave that had been dug for Ialu was undone; dirt and stone were flung everywhere, and the man that they had thought dead clambered out with a look of rage. That day he had slain the gravedigger that buried him alive, and began a purge pf sprts throughout Garakai. There were many who openly defied his rule or slight him, and the Sight led him straight to those worms. He slaughtered them all, and then he found the one that had looted his spear and killed that one as well for theft. Ialu was determined to never let that spear out of his grip again.

He found himself thinking about the sword that Viscardi had wielded. The men of Garakai were quick to tell him that the blade had been forged than none other than the Fire God, and that it was a miracle that Ialu had survived the duel at all. When the day was done and Ialu at last sat on Viscardi's throne, he spat and cursed under his breath both the Fire God and those who had doubted him. Victory had been inevitable, always would be inevitable, and he would make sure that these people knew that. They would worship him.

Only moments after lalu uttered the very thought of cursing Ferghus, the Fire God appeared in a pillar of flame, as well as an Arma Igna. "Well now, I assume you are this 'lalu' that dares to insult me?" Ferghus asked. "He is the one," the armored figure answered. "I see," Ferghus said. "Well now, what shall I do about you..."

Were it not for the plume of fire heralding his arrival, Ialu might have tried to strike down Ferghus for being a lowly peasant that had slipped past the guards. The Lord of the Forge had a certain rugged appearance, one that you wouldn't expect from a god. Yet his timely appearance and means of arrival had revealed his identity.

Scowling, Ialu rose from the throne that he had only just sat upon. In one hand he clutched the warspear that was his Sceptre and might, and in the other he balled a fist. "You," he spat, appearing perhaps as insulted as Ferghus. "...the one who made the blade for my enemy, the blade that did this." Ialu gestured to his bare chest, for he had discarded his damaged armor. He was a paragon of strength and perfection, save for one grotesque scar that dominated his stomach.

The spear filled him with rage and his very own blood had boiled with hatred and ire since the moment that he had drank from the Mighty One's gift. Since that fight Ialu had been so consumed by wrath as to be hardly lucid, though now he was somehow even more irate.

Ferghus listened to this mere mortal and looked at the scar on his chest. That was quite a scar. As for the weapon that did it, Ferghus could only think of one weapon that could have done it. "Ahh, I think I actually know what you're talking about," Ferghus said, grinning. "Yes, I see. Guess my work is as good as I've been telling people." Then Ferghus noticed the spear for the first time, and the grin disappeared, replaced by a look of curiosity. "That spear..." Ferghus said. "It's shape has changed, but I'd never forget something like that. Well, that explains a lot."

Ferghus laughed, then turned his attention back to Ialu. "Ahh, such a fate you'll have. I was about to deliver a punishment myself, but maybe just being with that guy could be punishment enough," Ferghus said. "You're an interesting one for sure."

Bewildered by what this strange being was talking about, it took Ialu several moments to realize that the lesser goddared to insult the Mighty One. It was preposterous and intolerable. "What are you, worm?" the chieftain roared. "How many of my people that worship you have you condemned to die by teaching the Cimex to make your weapons? We were better off before you came, our spears were deadly and our Wi unstoppable! Tell me, fiery one, why I should even tolerate the shrines to you in Garakai, and allow my vassal tribes to worship your name and work your unholy craft?"

"Why, indeed," Ferghus said. "I and my craft, unlike the creator of that spear you're wielding, serve a purpose other than just causing chaos. I bet you've committed some rather horrible acts yourself with that spear of yours. True, the art I teach to others will cause more deaths, for that is inevitable, but that is ultimately the fault of the mortals. They are the ones that shape the metal so, and use these weapons for that purpose. I cannot control any of my followers, only allow them to work the craft as they please."

"And besides," Ferghus continued. "Were it not for the fact that the art of blacksmithing is so useful, you would have stopped using it long ago. Oh, and by the way..." Ferghus then walked up to Ialu and raised his hand, summoning his hammer, Pyrkagia, with flames, then swung down, the hammer head only inches away from Ialu's face. "Don't call me a 'worm' when you don't know just what I'll do."

He didn't so much as flinch when the hammer came his way, being brave perhaps to the point of stupidity. With a small laugh that slowly turning into a guffaw, he raised a hand to push the hammer's flaming head away from his face, his hand somehow not even burned by the holy flames. He turned his gaze to the Arma Igna, and locked eyes with the empty stare that came from within its helmet.

"Is that not the thing that tried to lead my people astray? They were openly devoted to the Mighty One, and yet you sent that abomination in an attempt to corrupt them. I spared it then because it had left behind gifts, though I was clear that it was never to enter my sight again."

He then turned to Ferghus before saying, "Yet here it stands."

With a roar, he outstretched his empty hand towards the Arma Igna. At first nothing seemed to happen, but then the being began to hover in the air. The thing in his grip, the slammed it into the wall. Spittle flying from his mouth, Ialu looked at Ferghus and fumed, "You insult me with that thing for a second time, and you invade my domain." He raised his spear in obvious prepation to fight.

Ferghus wanted to be nice, but it seems that there was no choice now. "I was planning to let you off with a warning, but I guess that wasn't to be," Ferghus said menacingly. As the Arma Igna stood back up, with no injury either, Ferghus set a curse on Ialu. "You will never wield a weapon again for as long as you live," Ferghus said. "Enjoy being a warrior while you still can." With that now in place, both Ferghus and the Arma Igna were enveloped in a pillar of flame, then disappeared from sight.

Meanwhile, Might

1 Might spent cursing Ialu. His life as a warrior is over now.

Might: 6
Free Points: 3

[Kho]

Battle Brother Zerabil

Level ???? Human

Summary

• Zerabil returns to his people and they begin heading to the safety of the Mountain's Crown.
• Zerabil loses his power and the twilight returns.
• The fifty Victors protect the former-citzens of Orabson as they head towards safety.
• At the base of the mountain, Zerabil summons all his powers and flies to the Mountain's Crown to get help.
• Zerabil's strength is completely drained and he ages many years from the strain of the magic on his weakened body.
• Rejys marches to rescue the stranded citizens, taking with him most of the Victors.
• One month later, Zerabil summons the Outsiders to him and commands them to obey Rejys and train themselves to hunt the monsters hunting them.
• Six of the Outsiders are told to head for Invidia once they are powerful enought to fight off the monsters.
• Zerabil leaves the Mountain's Crown and goes on a journey.
• Zerabil ends up on the mountain of his birth, and he stays there for a long time, and there he yet remains.

Zerabil looked from his Father to He of the Waters as his Father spoke. He was not sure why the gods had all gathered here, but it was certainly a mighty sight, and he was honoured to be present and able to witness it. Then a strange feeling overcame him, one of dread and a heavy, back-breaking sadness. It landed on his shoulders and slipped into his chest, nestling in the centre of his chest, just below his rib-cage. It was debilitating.

Looking at his Father, he saw that he was once more in the form he had been in all those years ago, and there was a dark look on his face of bark, one which sent shivers down Zerabil's spine.
'Fa-' he did not have the chance to say more than that utterance, for darkness overwhelmed him then and all was quiet and black. He opened his eyes and found himself immediately among his people once more. They were all gathered around each other, fear in their eyes and movements. The fifty Victors stood in a circle around them, having fought off - along with Zerabil - the horrors which had emerged with the darkness.

'May my mother and father be sacrificed for you, oh holy one, you are returned!' a middle-aged woman rushed towards him and got to her knees, hug his waist. Others turned to him and gave similar exclamations. The Victors remained stoic and still as statues, however, not leaving their positions and duty.
'Yes, I am returned. Let us get you all to safety,' he smiled and signalled to his men to begin moving. Slowly, the former-citizens of Orabson gathered themselves up and began to move, surrounded by the fifty Brothers and Sisters of Vowzra's Victors, Zerabil floating slightly above the centre of the great group of people, keeping an eye out for any danger.

They had not moved more than one hundred metres before a shiver ran down Zerabil's back and he felt all his power and energy drained from him. He dropped like a rock, just about managing to roll an get to his knees. The armour had taken most of the blow, and being well-made, it was not heavy at all, allowing for a great deal of acrobatic movement. This armour was, in fact, lighter than that dragon-hide armour the Strong Tribe prided themselves with. Such was the skill of Rejys.

No sooner had Zerabil hit the ground then the world returned to its twilight. Standing up, Zerabil looked around in confusion. Had Orabil been burnt once more? So soon after his Father had brought it back? That could not be...
He had no time to think, however, for the horrors had returned.

'Victors! March! Keep those monstrosities at bay!' he commanded, ignoring his weakness and sending a bolt of lightening at an incoming flying thing. He immediately felt the drain and had to end the bolt earlier than he wished. The creature, however, was well and truly fried, for it dissipated into nothingness. The fifty Victors were doing a much better job than he, having once more synchronised themselves and created a static electric membrane of Wi around the citizens, preventing any of the monstrosities from entering by electrifying them upon contact.

With this, the people marched through the darkness, the fifty Victors protecting them all the way. Zerabil knew that they would tire, but their combined Wi was mighty indeed, when one flagged, the will of the others would keep them afloat. Thus was the power of unity. Powerful enough to keep at bay the nightmares of nearly one thousand fearful citizens. It was truly awe-inspiring. These were Vowzra's Victors after all.

They had not landed too far from the Mountain's Crown, and two hours of quick march - which the people bore with noteworthy determination - they arrived at the base of the mountains and Zerabil commanded them all to wait while he summoned help. Calling upon all the energies he had, he shot himself up through the top of the barrier and floated upwards at speed, avoiding the odd monstrosity floating in the twilight sky. He could barely sustain his flight, and at times he felt himself lose power completely and begin to fall. He would allow himself a few moments of rest before channeling his powers once more and flying upwards.

So much strain did he put on himself that his already wrinkling face grew more wrinkled still, his already white hair shriveled and became sickly, his muscles, which had been so powerful and lean before, wilted. Eventually, however, he landed on one of mountain fortress's ramparts and fell to his knees, his legs unable to carry him. Two Brothers were immediately upon him, helping him up. It was probably his armour alone that helped them recognise him, otherwise, the shock on their faces was clear as day - despite their stoic training.
'Battle Brother...' one of them whispered.
'P-prepare help,' he gasped, 'get to the base- t-the people,' the two Brother looked to each other before carrying Zerabil off and shouting to the others. It was Rejys who understood his gasping words and organised the majority of the Victors - leaving ten Brothers behind to care for Zerabil - and marching out to rescue the embattled citizens of Orabson.

Zerabil lay on a bed in the small infirmary. Two of the Brothers who had been left behind were wiping his face with wet cloths, using their Wi, while another removed Zerabil's armour. Soon enough he lay there in nothin more than his tunic, which was also removed. Naked, he was even more of a pitiful figure than before. He had become desperately thin, his rib-cage sticking out, hip bones jutting, calves and femur lacking in meat and muscle, and his arms likewise. His skin was both wrinkled and waxy with illness while its usually olive tone was now deathly white. His hair was now white and crisp, no longer shining with the healthy sheen it had shone with not more than half a day earlier, and his face and neck were stripped of all meat. He looked like nothing more than a skeleton with a an ancient layer of skin.

Zerabil could not see this, but he was certain that he did not look his best. He had never known that over-using Wi could have such terrible consequences on the body. If this was the price he had to pay to save the people, however, then it was a price he willingly paid. He did not understand...why had he weakened all of a sudden? This would have been nothing when he was at full strength. So weak had he become that he was certain the newest initiate to the Victors would have bested him, even was he not so spent as he was. Had something happened to his Father? His weakness and the twilight had come about at the same time...it could only mean that something terrible had happened. His Father sustained Orabil and himself after all...it could not be.

Zerabil wished to let of a moan, but he stopped himself. That was no way for a Victor to act. Breathing deeply (which hurt) he turned his head to the side and closed his eyes. All he needed was some rest.

***

One Month After the Coming of the Twilight

'No,' came his raspy voice, 'you cannot stay up any longer youngling. Go on inside and sleep,' the old man gave the little girl a small smile and her pout slowly gave way to a discontent frown of defeat.
'Ok...' she said, 'but when I wake up, we'll play ball again!' Zerabil laughed, his laughs coming out more like coughs.
'We shall see,' he said as she ran off. Standing in the middle of the empty meditation garden, he leaned on his cane and hobbled off towards the waterfall. Removing his thin robe, he proceeded to wade in to the little pond and walked towards the rock directly beneath the waterfall. He slipped a few times as he tried to clamber onto it, but eventually seated his naked buttock onto it and forced his legs into the lotus position. They seemed to creak in complaint, but he ignored the slight pain and closed his eyes, breathing sharply beneath the cold waters.

The pure liquid washed over him as night descended and he allowed his soul to float away, searching.
Oh Father...my Lord, my Lord...why have you forsaken me? he thought to himself. He felt himself enter those streams. He had traveled them much over the years and had grown to know them like he knew himself. But now, he felt like a stranger walking in the footsteps of a Zerabil who had once been but no longer was. Sighing, he opened his mouth and spoke.

'Poor stranger, come in from the darkness and cold,' he heard nothing for a while but the fall of water around his head. Then he opened his eyes, and before him stood twelve creatures. They were shrouded in shadow and darkness and seemed almost afraid to come too near so he could see them.
'Do not fear. I am a friend, come closer,' they stood there for a while, uncertain. After a minute had passed, however, they circled around the pond and watched him with their eyes. Each had one, single, large orange eye in the middle of their chest.

He looked at each one of them, trying to see in them the small differences which set one individual apart from another. This one had a smaller build, the shape of this one's head, its bone features, this one's height and girth. They may have been Outsiders, but they were surely human, and each was as unique as any human Zerabil ever knew.

'You are now Brothers and Sisters of Vowzra's Victors. Battle Brother Rejys shall train you, you shall be honoured and respected by all, as befits your position. And you shall face the darkness which hunts your kind, and you shall bring it down,' he paused for a few seconds, allowing his gaze to pass over each of them, 'though you have naught to fear of your fellow Victors, do keep your identities secret from our citizens. I know you are a race of Man that dwells in the shade of we who walk in sun and moon alike,' he thought for a few seconds of the sun they had not seen in a month now, 'and I do not wish for you to reveal yourselves to people when you are loath to do so.'

With that, he slipped off the stone and waded towards them. Strange fingers and hands helped him out of the pond and dressed him. He looked around at them gratefully, they certainly understood his state of weakness better than many others. Had they been watching him? Or perhaps they just had intuition beyond that of others?

'Battle Brother, come,' Zerabil called out, and the hulking form of Rejys appeared before them, walking through the entrance to the garden. He nodded towards the Outsiders and faced Zerabil.
'You called, Prophet,' the Arma Igna said. Zerabil had chosen to step down as a Battle Brother of Vowzra's Victors a week before, leaving Rejys as the leading Battle Brother of the Victors. He had also handed his governmental role to the colossal armoured man. Zerabil was certain that he was more than capable of taking up the burdens and responsibilities, for Zerabil was no longer able to. Everyone, however, had chosen to start calling him prophet once more. It irked Zerabil greatly.

'I do not believe that a fitting thing to call a mere man, Battle Brother,' he said sadly. Zerabil certainly did not feel like a prophet or a son of the Celestial Above any longer. After his encounter with He of the Waters, he doubted he was very much blessed by They of the Waters either - She of the Waters would certainly not wish to see him now that he was naught but a weak, despised and foolish old man.
'It is fitting,' Rejys responded simply, causing Zerabil to smile slightly. Rejys, ever the sturdy rock upon whom all clung. He was a worthy successor, far more worthy than Zerabil had ever been or would ever be again. Zerabil waved his left hand towards the Outsiders who stood to either side of him.

'These are fellow humans, created in the same instance as we but ordained a different purpose by the Earthly Below than that given us by the Celestial Above,' he informed the Arma Igna, 'and now they are Brothers and Sisters of Vowzra's Victors. You must train them in Wi and teach them the ways of the Victors, for they have an enemy who hunts them, and who they must learn to hunt,' at last he turned away from Rejys and looked at the twelve. He pointed at the six to his right and spoke.

'You are Zarkin, and you are Dreyus, and you are Hikat, and you are Alfid, and you are Greyus, and you are Vyngis. Together you shall be the Seers of The Silent Six,' as he spoke each name, each of them got to their knee in acknowledgement and acceptance of his words. He then turned upon the other six.
'As for you, Brothers, you shall be with us but a short while. We shall teach you what we can, and what you will need for survival. Then, you must depart and make your way to he whom you are destined to serve beside, the Master Invidia, the Liaison,' these six nodded at his words and Zerabil nodded in return. Turning away, he left the garden. They were the disciples of Rejys now, he could do nothing for them.

He made his way up some stairs until he stood on the ramparts. The ramparts were heavily guarded by Victors, one hundred at any one time, changing shifts every six hours, with twenty Battle Brothers and Sisters present in each shift. The citizens who temporarily dwelled within the Mountain's Crown had to be protected after all, from the very nightmares they drew to this place.

Battle Brother Juras had returned but a few days earlier, assuring everyone that the Confederate Tribes were largely safe. Each tribe had taken refuge behind village walls and organised defences against the monstrosities, making use of the Wi the monsters seemed to lack. Zerabil wondered what had become of the Outsiders dwelling with the Confederate. Zerabil closed his eyes and whispered a silent prayer for them. Perhaps the Liaison had found a way to rescue them...who knew?

Moving on, Zerabil walked the ramparts until he came upon Battle Brother Juras. He respectfully asked him for a word, and Juras obliged him.
'Battle Brother, I would like to depart from here. Will you help me to the base of the mountain? I will be able to go alone from there,' Juras was silent for a few moments, his eyes questioning, 'it is a request from me, Battle Brother. This is not a prison, all may leave as they wish. I would only like to be so selfish as to request you aid this weak old man down to the base of the mountain,' he smiled slightly and Juras released a long breath before nodding in the affirmative.
'I shall do as you ask, Battl- um, sir,' the frown on his face did not disappear, but who was he to deny Zerabil the right to leave?

Zerabil made for the gate at which Juras gave him a shocked look.
'Wait, now?' he sputtered.
'Why, yes Battle Brother, immediately,' Zerabil replied as he walked.
'But, shouldn't you tell Battle Brother Rejys, or say goodbye at the least?' Juras questioned.
'I have said all the goodbyes necessary and handed over my duties. Need more be said?' Zerabil asked simply and Juras could do no more than frown even more. It did not sit right by him, but he knew that Zerabil would leave either way. It was better to ensure he got to the bottom safely than to let him climb alone, especially with the number of monsters circling round the monastery. It would be much safer further down the mountain where Zerabil would be the only human for miles around.

Standing outside the gates, the two began their trek. While in the radius of the monastery, all monsters approaching them were quickly dealt with by the Victors on the ramparts. As they descended further, however, Juras began casting his own spells, reaching into those enormous reserves any Victor worth his name had. The monstrosities stood no chance as lightening and fire returned them to the darkness from whence they had emerged. The further they walked, the less monsters they came across, until they were simply trekking down with Juras helping the weakened Zerabil over particularly treacherous terrain. At one point, Zerabil fell and nearly bashed his fragile old head against the rocks, but quickness from Juras ensured the former-Battle Brother floated back to his feet and was able to continue his walk.

'Thank you Battle Brother,' a breathless Zerabil said once they had reached the base, 'I know I troubled you by asking you to come with me, but I needn't trouble you anymore. Return to your Brothers and I shall be on my way,' Juras bowed in respect and gave the salute of the Victors. Smiling, Zerabil raised his fist high above his head before lowering it and thumping it against his chest.
'Goodbye Battle Brother Zerabile,' Juras said.
'Goodbye Battle Brother Juras,' said Zerabil.

With that, the old man in the brown robe turned away and began walking off with the support of his wooden cane. He would go where Fate willed he go, and he would walk until it willed him stop.

What a nice bird. Oh...that's a leaf.

***

Six Months After the Coming of the Twilight

Zerabil sat by the fire, listening to the nearby stream as it flowed by, his eyes on the strange monstrosity slowly crawling towards him. It was a pitiful imitation of himself, dried up and pretty much dead. It crawled towards him, moaning and groaning in pain, attempting to live once more. It had followed him around ever since he left the mountain, crawling behind him in an attempt to reach him. It had disgusted him at first, but he soon saw it for what it was; a reflection of his deepest fears and, in a way, a reflection of what he truly was at heart. For he feared what he had become, and that thing on the ground was what he had become - if not physically, then certainly spiritually and mentally. He had become a parody of the real Zerabil, that Zerabil was gone.

He had walked all the way to Orabil, and had seen it from a distance, as tall and alive as ever. However, he could not reach it completely, for around it was a strange nothingness. A void which he knew would crush him should he attempt entering it. The void surrounded the great tree from all directions and prevented all living things from approaching. Its aura had also disappeared, for he felt no overwhelming peacefulness, nor did the monstrosity following him find itself incapable from entering the vicinity of the great tree as it once would have.
He had stayed there for a few days, meditating and contemplating. Soon, however, his hunger and thirst drove him from the barren desert which now surrounded the tree, and he went in search of food.

After that, he had visited the Confederate Tribes and checked on them. The number of monsters surrounding each village, when he approached, assured him that there were yet human within to give rise to these nightmares and he moved on, not wishing to attract the attention of the nightmares. He had instructed Rejys to send emissaries to the Confederates and to the Sanguine Communion and to the Strong Tribe too, telling them that the return of the monsters meant that Vowzra's Victors could no longer partake in an assault to end the Cimex threat. They would shore up their defences and await the mercy of the gods when it came - surely their mercy had to come...

Zerabil put out the fire and stood up. The hill where he was first created was not far off. He walked for another hour until he had reached its crest, and in the very place he had first come into existence, he sat down. There he crossed his legs in the lotus position and he closed his eyes, and there he remained. More power had returned to his old body over his travels. He was now capable, at will, of summoning to him some water from a stream which ran close by the hill, and with ease he could summon fruits from the trees in the forest.

He sat upon that hill for three months, and he did not plan to leave that place of his for a long time yet.

[ActRaiserTheReturned]

To the eastern waters a massive continent rose from the depths of the sea. The continent of Drakhavin's citizens were it's animals and it's dragons now. The dragons, seventy percent of the entire world's population of dragons would live there. Dragons were now three times as fertile, now on par with the fertility rate of the other races. Sauranath was sure that an extra continent full of his Star Children would help delay any major conflicts with his children and the other races. Large creatures like mammals and elephants would be abundant as well, easy prey for the dragons, but quite majestic creatures, alongside with the sabre cats running to and fro the country side as well. Even without dragons the people of the lands who might later inhabit Drakhavin would have to be tough, numerous and/or wise to flourish here.

But now almost all the dragons would be in Drakhavin, with fifteen percent persistently traveling from continent to continent. A narrow Isthmus connected the area to the other lands of the world. Because of Sauranath's unfortunate destruction of the tree, Orabil, Sauranath's name in the dragon tongue for the whole world became "Orabil". Thus, Drakhavin, known in the tongue of other races, is also called by the name of Oribakh. Orabakh. Orabakh was an enormous land mass, and the climate ranged from temperate to humid tropical regions. . . the far east region had the palm trees, the creatures such as jaguar, primates and parrots, and of course, the already mentioned elephants.

In the center of the continent, not long of a dragon's flight from the tropical zones, Sauranath's Brood Lair was found, a magnificent Brood Lair, the only place in the world or Orabil, as the dragons called it, comparable to anything like a city or large town the rest of the world had. Orabil's live stock would be housed in a natural crater in the ground, Sauranath's avatar would be there when the actual Arch Dragon Lord would soar throughout the stars and the world below. Myrtagn admired this Brood Lair, finding it more grand than any city, that he could naturally see from the Stars. Sure, there were at most, perhaps a handful of thousand here, but that did not matter to him. This was an actual place much larger than a single lair, nest or even group of communities that dragon kind had ever known.

The concept of "Holy Place" wasn't strongly embedded in Sauranath's mind, but that is what the rest of the people's of the world would see the place as, Sauranath's Holy Place, Erstakh. Erstakh, the Dragon's Rest. Suddenly, in the Isthmus connecting Orabakh to the other lands, a mysterious energy covered the entire Isthmus. Dragons in the area would find themselves tougher, more durable, stronger, and their breaths would and could destroy with more powerful forces.

Hider

2 Might Points For A Vast Land, Orabakh
6 Holy Place
0 Might Points
4 Free Points to enhance the power over the dragons of the Isthmus

[SrslyAnArtist]

@Rtron and IrishAngelQueen

Vestec appeared in front of Roxan, his usual chaotic mix of colors back in place. “Roxan, dearie, give me back his soul and his sword. I have plans for the both of them..” He said, before chuckling. “And for the record, I have always cared about you. It was just wiser to not show my affections publicly...yet. The other gods might have decided that you were the perfect target, and at least two of them wouldn’t have had the decency to say they did it just because they dislike me. Escre would have claimed it was in the name of balance and Vowzra would have claimed fate. Do you know how tedious it is to listen to him justify everything he does, even if it’s as bad as me, by saying fate willed it?”

She glared stubbornly. “I want the sword, at least,” she replied, tilting her head in consideration of his words. “I’ve seen that happen often enough, true. Just give me one reason why you care about me, and proof that you do. Other than using me and my powers,” She tightened her grip on the wraithlike soul. “And I might, give you the soul, father.” She almost spat the last word.

“You’re my daughter, I need no better reason. You want proof? Rather than the respect you deserved, people viewed you with contempt and fear and disgust. I couldn’t do anything, lest I draw attention to you by the other Gods. So I had to watch and wait and plan as you were disrespected. This man,” he gestured to the soul in her hand, “didn’t disrespect you. This man honored you, respected you, even loved you like his daughter despite you being the child of a woman who tried to kill him, and your touch being death. I don’t care about my followers. If they do good I give them power, if they fail they die. Pretty simple. But this man did what few mortals dared, and what I could not if I wanted to keep you alive. For that I am going to bring him back to life. Because of what he did for you and what he means to you.”

He shrugged. “You may hate me, and from your perspective I can’t blame you. But I love you and this man loved you and meant a lot to you. If you need even more proof, I’ll help you fight off any God you manage to irritate over the course of your life.” Vestec chuckled. “You are my daughter after all. At some point you’re going to irritate some God. Now can I have the soul to bring him back to life? And then you can request the sword from him.”

She was shocked, and honestly? She believed him. She knew whenever was lying, and this was not one of those times. She looked at her feet for a moment, struggling with her emotions. What he had said about Viscardi was true. He had done all those things and more, he had crafted the gloves she always wore on her hands, and had never once shown fear of her company. Finally, she looked back up at her father, seeing him with new eyes. She took a deep breath and sighed, her spine relaxing, her anger gone.

“Alright, Father, I believe you,” she said. “Aye, they did treat me this way, with all those things. I never knew you cared. I know mum didn’t. Not really. But I have just a few questions, why have him killed at all? That mortal, Ialu, he killed Viscardi because you told him to challenge him.” She suddenly grinned wolfishly. “I’ll give you the soul and the sword, but my last question is this; do you object to...” she hesitated, her smile fading a little. “I’ve never known what it’s like, to be touched without poisoning someone, would you...?” She trailed off, not wanting to sound pathetic.
Vestec’s colors pulsed in a decidedly relieved and happy fashion. “I’m so glad you do. Otherwise it’d be very awkward whenever I give you my help.” He tilted his head to consider her next question. “Ialu? He’s going to be a force of quite a bit of Chaos in this world. But first he needs an empire, not a mob. His ‘Mighty One’ wouldn’t have just given him Garakai, so he needed to fight for it. Viscardi was the chieftain of the empire, so he was the one he needed to fight without trying to attack it with his rabble and failing. Given a little bit of time and pushing from me he’ll help bring about some fun times for the world.”

“Of course. You’re my daughter. I’d do anything for you.”

Roxan stuck the sword into and empty sheath on her belt and stepped forward, shyly. “I like Chaos,” she said, her tone somewhat gentler than it usually was. “It makes things more exciting.” she stepped forwards until she was close enough to touch his shoulder and handed him Viscardi’s soul before taking off her right glove. She stretched her her fingers, enjoying the cool wind that made them less clammy. Vestec was a full head taller than she was, but that was how it’s supposed to be, she mused.

She looked up at him, her silver eye seeing his spiritual form, a mess of colors that made up who he was, while her gold one saw his physical form, the one of a god sized down to be less intimidating. Not that she was. For a man, he was alright, she supposed.

“I know that you’re supposed to be divine and all,” she began, grinning. “But even deities need physical proof of affection, yeah?”
“Chaos is fun. Chaos stops things from stagnating, no matter how much others dislike it.” Vestec replied, taking the soul and tucking it somewhere safe. There would be time soon after this to resurrect the man. Right now he was making up for lost time, no matter how necessary it was, with his daughter.

“If I acted like a divine was supposed to my life would be very, very boring I assure you. Vowzra and Escre can be distant and regal. I prefer to be more...hands on with my followers. So yes, even deities need physical proof of affection.” Vestec chuckled. “Especially fathers.”

Roxan grinned. “You’re probably going to be my new favorite god,” she chuckled. “Once done here, I need something to do. Even with my soul-escort duties, I have too much time on my hands.” She leaned into him boldly, leaving the choice open, daring him to make the next move. She looked up at him with an assessing eye.

“Why is it that I’m your only child, I wonder,” she said. “I’m sure the other gods have more than one, although I've had to hunt them down and escort a few of their souls here.” She studied her hand. It was covered with a black spiderweb tattoo that she had been born with, earning her the nickname of Black Widow, when the village boys had seen it.

Vestec took Roxan’s hand and hugged her to him. “I can assure you, you’re my favorite child. As for things to do, well, there is a human named Zerabil I’ll be visiting soon. Vowzra had abandoned him, and I’ve decided to take the Time God’s place. He’ll need someone to help guide him, and it will give you something to do and certainly give you a steady supply of souls to escort. Maybe, if what I have in mind works, even give you a chance to help kill Ialu.”

“As for why you’re my only child...well...that’s because of Astarte. Goddess of Magic. She didn’t necessarily approve of your creation and your mother certainly doesn’t want to try again so I just stopped, though I’ve never regretted it or you, irritating Astarte is at the top of my ‘things to not do’ list. Technically, she’s the only thing on that list.” Vestec flashed briefly pink, before returning to his normal swirl of colors.

Roxan felt her defenses crumble as Vestec hugged her. So this is what it felt like, to be touched without fatal consequences. Her eyes gleamed. Kill Ialu? “It’d be my pleasure to help with all those things, Da,” she dropped the formal title of ‘Father’. “Especially with Ialu.” She couldn’t help the malicious grin that appeared on her face at the thought.

“I met Astarte, once. I rather liked her, even if my creation wasn’t approved,” she raised an eyebrow. “Gee, I wonder why mum won’t give me a little sibling.” Her tone was wry, and at the same time, amused. She’d never thought that he’d ever be embarrassed. She grinned again, eyes dancing.

“I must admit, though. I’m beginning to like being an only child-Mum won’t like that,” she scowled. “Probably get drunk again and call me demon-spawn. Crazy bitch.” She had a certain bitterness for her sweet-again-bitter-again mother.

“A taste for violent vengeance seems to run in the family. Don’t worry. You’ll have your shot. ” Vestec chuckled. “Ialu has his uses, and putting him against Zerabil will ensure lots of chaos for a good long while.”

“I’m glad you like her.” Vestec said, flashing pink again. He shrugged as she spoke of her mother. “What you do to deal with your mother is your business. I won’t be visiting her any time soon. It’d be best for all of us if I didn’t.” He let her go, regretfully, and reached into his jacket again and pulled out a small black rock. “Take this. I have an island that’s largely left alone, and I’ll resurrect Viscardi there and start establishing an Order. You can use it as a safe place to call home, teleporting to it with this rock. Viscardi will doubtlessly make any additions you require. Now, I have to go. Heroes to visit, Gods to chat with, chaos to cause. Have fun while I’m gone dearie.” With that, he was gone.

Roxan smiled, taking the rock from him. “Farewell, Da,” she said softly. She tucked the rock into her pocket and pulled her wings out. She also had business to attend to; souls to escort, weapons to deliver to a special ally of hers, and she also had to see a man about a dog, so to speak. She spread her wings and disappeared from the Astral Home with a silver-gold flash, reappearing above a broad forest. The wind ruffled her feathers and her hair streamed out behind her like a black mane.

Her smile was feral as she sped off towards her old village to deliver the weapons she carried. She decided, that after she was done with her errands, she’d go check out that island Vestec had talked about.

[Frettzo]

Astarte, Goddess of Magic

Summary

- Astarte "tames" her new dragon, given to her by Vestec.

Astarte chuckled. The beast in front of her was rather charming, after all--It was ten metres long and three tall, with a pair of mighty horns protruding from its head and half a meter into the air. White scales covered its body and crisp blue eyes stared at her, analyzing every movement she made. Its wings were huge, yet one of them was currently crushed under a boulder. Astarte was sitting on this boulder, grinning down at the Dragon.

"So, you realize now that this is no joke, hm?" She said in a jittery voice, excitement making her body shake and shiver ever so slightly, "Listen to me, Lizzy-"

"I AM A MALE!" The Dragon boomed, loud enough was his voice that the boulder rocked in place and crushed his wing further. A whimper escaped his mouth, yet after a moment and steeling himself from the pain, he spoke more calmly, "Do NOT call me Lizzy, monster."

Astarte was taken aback, how coult this beast call her a monster? Her, the Goddess of Magic, the most interesting and beautiful of all Gods?! She huffed and jumped down and onto the back of the Dragon's neck. Then she whispered into his ears, hands wrapped around his two horns. "I am no monster, beast. When you see me, do you see a vile, hideous being?" She asked, grip on the horns tightening. The Dragon winced.

"Ye-"

"NO." Astarte yelled into his ear. Then she gripped the horns even tighter, until a crack was heard. The Dragon's following scream echoed through the entire forest, and a shiver of pleasure went down Astarte's back.

"You see a beautiful Goddess. The Mother of Wi, the Goddess of Magic, of Summoning." Astarte whispered, caressing the new cracks on the Dragon's horns until they went away. "See? I healed you. You're fine now." She smiled sweetly at the Dragon and nuzzled his cheek affectionately.

She then jumped off the Dragon's neck and with a motion of her hands, the boulder came off the dragon's right wing and was thrown far away. She hurried to the Dragon's crushed wing and caressed it. Wherever her hands touched, the wing healed. Eventually, it was back to normal, and the Dragon looked at her, confused and afraid.

He tried to flap his wings and take off.

Then a louder scream echoed through the forest. Astarte had balled up her fists and both of his wings were crushed by her magic.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk." Astarte sighed, walking up to the Dragon and slapping him on the cheek, hard enough to tear his lip. "What did I tell you? You're my property now, and property doesn't escape."

[ActRaiserTheReturned]

Sauranath appeared. . . his anger was incensed. "I do as the Star Siblings ask and soar around the world, seeing the Humans, Cimex and my children in their new home. I have seen the good and evil in mortals. I have seen romance, murder, evil and exaltation of moral virtue! I have seen the old die in their ancient years and the infant perish with their mother in the womb. I have also seen people's lives dominated by bondage by another in all ways. I have seen evil, I have seen horror, I have seen, the unholy eaters of each other that infest the darkest recesses of the mortal SOUL! But until today, I have never, seen. . . YOU!"

Sauranath bared his fangs as a brilliant, shining blood red monster. . . his neck coiled away just barely separate in distance from the Mistress of All Magic, but surrounded Astarte. He bared his fangs at her, fire burst out of his nostrils and mortals or even Heroes would have already been annihilated through disintegration at this beast's heat, before the fire it'self would reach her. He smiled at her. . . "I do not think that the Goddess of Magic knows the best way to work with others."

[Rtron]

Vestec, Lord of Chaos

Might: 3

Freepoint: 2

Vestec returned to the island he had created, so long ago in the world's life, and set down Viscardi's body. Drawing the soul from his cloak he returned it to the former Northern Lord's body. Viscardi woke up with a gurgling gasp, shooting straight into a sitting position. Before he could ask the obvious questions, Vestec spoke. "You're the only mortal to get this gift, so don't waste it. Try not to die again. Roxan will be visiting here soon, so I suggest you use Vistoc to make the place liveable and look better. Also, you'll have company soon enough, and something to occupy your time and worthy of your effort. Chaos never rests my boy, and now I have to go. Lots of things to do!" With that, Vestec left. he wasn't kidding. He had a lot of things to do.

Vestec visited Zerabil first. He had promised Roxan he would need a guide, and to need a guide Zerabil would have to be corrupted. The god of chaos appeared before the old man tsking in a disappointed manner. "The mighty Zerabil, defender of humans. Your god has abandoned you. You're nothing more than a weak old man. Why, I wonder? You haven't failed. The dragon God's sudden awakening and return was no fault of yours. Truth be told I suspect none of the Gods expected the Dragon God to awaken. Nonetheless, Vowzra seems to blame you for that. You've been cast aside like a piece of trash, Vowzra claiming Fate has forced his hand." Vestec giggled, reaching out to gently touch the old man's head. "Fate. Fate is what he uses to excuse everything. He'll even use it to explain what happens next, forgotten Zerabil. Not all the Gods have abandoned you." He corrupted the hero, restoring his youth and immortality. The God of Chaos didn't mistreat his heroes.

"Go find your Victors. Lead them once more. They still obey all Godly commands right? I have a mission for them." It was a simple thing to project his voice into the minds of the Victors and the Hallowed Hundred. "Victors! Hallowed Hundred! I have decided to deliver mercy unto the world of mortals once more...for a price. In the far north there is an Empire, Garakai. It's chieftain has revoked the Gods, insulting them and claiming a false god, his 'Mighty One', as the true ruler. You will gather your forces, and any willing to fight with you, to wipe his and his ilk from the face of the earth. For the duration of your campaign, The monsters of your nightmares will not return in the night. I will ensure the Cimex do not strike while you are gone." If Vestec had had a mouth, he would have smiled. "Go, and let Zerabil guide you." With that, he turned his attention back to Zerabil. "Do not waste my gift, Zerabil. After you've laid waste to the North, I expect to see a slaughter the Cimex will never recover from." Then the God of Chaos left.

True to his word, Vestec lifted the eternal darkness from the world. As soon as the light of the sun touched them, the monsters were destroyed. They would not return every night as they had been, as long as the Victors and the Hallowed Hundred campaigned against Garakai. It was almost as if they had never existed. Turning his attention to the Cimex, Vestec cursed them with eternal discord. Infighting, arguing, mishaps. Anything and everything that could ruin the harmony the race had happened. They would not be organized enough to launch a raid, much less a full scale invasion with three armies.

Before the God of Chaos could make his next stop, that defiant hero Invidia, his attention was drawn by the screaming pain of a dragon. Vestec looked to see Astarte...'taming' his gift to her. Vestec giggled as the dragon tried to escape, only to have it's wings crushed. "That was a mistake, 'Lizzy'. Might as well give in now, though I must say it is entertaining to see you fight." Vestec said aloud to no one but himself, giggling once more. That's when the Dragon God arrived, baring his fangs at the Goddess of Magic. Briefly Vestec flashed red again, but resisted letting Violence have his way. "Not yet...not yet..first we'll talk." With a gesture he created an Avatar in front of Invidia. He still intended to talk to the Outsider, after all. But he couldn't do it in person, unfortunately.

Vestec appeared next to Astarte, nodding cheerfully at her. "I couldn't help but notice the Dragon God messing with things that don't belong to him anymore!" He turned his attention to the Dragon God. "I don't think you know how to mind your own business. The dragon was never yours. He was mine. Born from dragons who followed me, Lizzy doesn't even know who you are. I gave him as a gift to the beautiful Goddess of Magic and Summoning, the Mother of Wi, Astarte. He's hers now."

Summary

1 might spent cursing the Cimex with Discord

1 might spent creating an avatar to chat with Invidia

Eternal Night ended

Viscardi returned to life

Victors and Hallowed Hundred ordered to attack and eradicate Garakai and it's leader

Zerabil corrupted

Vestec is currently standing beside Astarte, talking to Sauranoth.

[Frettzo]

Astarte, Goddess of Magic.

Summary

- Astarte tells Sauranath to relax

Astarte merely stared at Sauranath as he appeared. She stayed immobile, not out of fear but surprise and annoyance. Sauranath really believed he was the owner of all dragons, didn't he? Astarte thought. As he surrounded Astarte with a ridiculous but somewhat threatening movement, she shrugged.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Saury, you saw me once before when discussing the Orabil mess." She whispered to herself.

Then, after baring his fangs, he breathed fire on her... Through his nostrils. For a moment she felt like laughing, but instead she casted a barrier in front of her. The barrier kept the fire from reaching her. As he finished, Astarte resumed staring at him. She frowned, and just as she opened her mouth to speak, Vestec appeared. A wave of relief washed over her, and she smiled.

Vestec spoke to Sauranath and explained the situation, though Astarte felt she had to reassert herself, as defending herself from Sauranath by standing behind Vestec's words felt unnatural.

"Yes, this dragon's mine, Sauranath. Everything Vestec says is true..." She then looked at Vestec, then at Lizzy, and finally at Sauranath again, a defiant look on her face. "You ought to relax. I'm doing nothing wrong."

[ActRaiserTheReturned]

Sauranath
Sauranath bared his fangs. . . "Why are you continually doing these atrocities? These are not toys. These are people. As the stars suffer, the world dims away. Be careful that you do not blow out the stars, lest you find yourselves all in darkness. The Cimex, the Humans, they are mortals of a great order. . . Why do you all not content yourselves with your own making?'

Hider

"Ah, well. . . if you really believe that the dragon is your "gift", in the same way that everything that isn't yours is your "gift", I release him from this world into the Stars above". The dragon mysteriously vanished, it's essence gathered into the stars above, making it impossible to know where the dragon actually went. Sauranath gritted his teeth. "If you think I was breathing fire on you, you're a little vain. I hadn't began to show you what I can actually do if I so choose. So, you devious little Humanoid monster woman, I've learned much from my time on the world down below. Please consider what your continued deception and destructive ways can do to your own self by reparation before you continue through the way of darkness".

The Arch Dragon Lord looked to both of the creatures. "Vestec, this isn't the way to speak to one of those between us, the old ones who were made from after the Pre-Existent places of time. Now, for all of you, I am returning to the great above".

[Kho]

Turn 7

Turn 7 god Might:

Vowzra - Level 5 - 14 Might - 0 Might 3 Free Points Carried from Previous Turn, 6 Might from Orabil - 4 Free Points

Arguis - Level 4 - 23 Might - 16 Might 2 Free Points Carried from Previous Turn - 3 Free Point

Vestec - Level 5 - 9 Might - 1 Might 2 Free Points Carried from Previous Turn - 3 Free Points

Astarte - Level 5 - 20 Might - 12 Might 3 Free Points Carried from Previous Turn - 4 Free Points

Sveiand - Level 4 - 16 Might - 9 Might 3 Free Points Carried from Previous Turn - 4 Free Points

Undasis - Level 4 - 20 Might - 10 Might 2 Free Points Carried from Previous Turn, 3 Might from Holy Cove - 3 Free Points

Ferghus - Level 5 - 14 Might - 6 Might 3 Free Points Carried from Previous Turn - 4 Free Points

Sauranath - Level 5 - -2 Might - -10 Might -4 Free Points Carried from Previous Turn - -3 Free Points

Escre - Level 5 - 19 Might - 10 Might 2 Free Points Carried from Previous Turn, 1 Might from Astral Home - 3 Free Points

Turn 7 Demigod Might:

Roxan - Level 1 - 8 Might - 4 Might Carried from Previous Turn

Ialu - Level 3 - 9 Might - 0 Might Carried from Previous Turn, 3 Might from 3000 Worshippers

[Lugubrious]

Summary

Escre, in its Nightwalker form, spent some extra time in its private Spirit World to purify the dead souls
The Great Spirit has gone

Escre – the Great Spirit

The gigantic orb of blood rippled, and deep within Escre walked. Since its return to the Astral Home following the great confrontation before Orabil, it had been engaged in preparations. Coming face to face with Vowzra, Undasis, Astarte, Sauranath, and Vestec had convinced it that a change of plans were in order. To that end, it had immersed itself in the visceral Astral Home, and with eyes unclouded by a universe that belonged to others. The Great Spirit had never thought of the quiet realm as its own personal dimension because it was home to so many. It was here that Escre, and every spirit of Galbar, found its rest while waiting to be reborn. The number of spirits was ever growing, and so was their home; like creative potential, and the void itself, it was infinite. Here, the spirits could remember every one of their past lives, as if they were dreams, whether good or bad. They could wander the ruins endlessly, losing themselves in an endless dream if they wished, or allow themselves to be plucked from it and repurposed into the world anew. To be sure, the Spirit Realm was no perfect paradise, but what awaited those spirits if they chose to be born into the world? They would awaken, remembering nothing and knowing nothing, and cast their lot across the gambling table the gods had called Galbar and see if their new life would bring memories of joy, hatred, accomplishment, pain, or anything in the end.

Escre's work in this Spirit Realm was a melancholy one. It walked among the spirits, in an ashen-faced form very much like a man but cloaked in a twisted mantle, drawn to those whose souls had been tarnished. If the Great Spirit happened upon a soul that had been corrupted, either literally by the malignant efforts of Vestec, or metaphorically by misfortune and agony enough to tear a soul to pieces, it would attempt to restore the soul to a more neutral state. If the blight went too deep, as some did, Escre had to devour it and erase it from existence. The act brought it no joy, for terrible was a fate that rent a soul so irreparably—Escre could imagine few things worse. The only way to ease such suffering was to end it. Today it had redoubled its efforts, doing its best to rectify the tainted souls lest they be reborn into a world as inherently evil, for new and magnificent things were soon to be afoot.

Today was the day it would leave.

Nightwalker Escre, fatigued but content in the way that workers are, sat down against a stone wall and breathed slowly. It smoothed out its mantle, and the toothed maws and glinting eyes vanished into a the silky fabric. Pulling its hat down over its face, the image of a tired wanderer going to sleep at last, Escre closed its eyes and woke up.

It exited the Astral Home's scarlet surface, causing a ripple over the great orb as it did so. Robed and armored once more in its standard form, Escre floated serenely over to where Invidia stood on a promontory reaching from the lip of the Planet Cord. When Escre alighted beside its Liaison, Invidia spared it only a momentary glance, for when looking into the Astral Home with its vigilant, crimson eye, it could just begin to see the rocky contours of the Spirit World, and feel the heat of its eternal sunset. ”Stay however long you wish,” Escre resonated. ”The world above is a harsh one, but as my Liaison, your soul can withstand all it can offer. I have ensured that your spirit will always be reborn as it is now, and that with every death its corruption will be cleansed. This is the last time that your body will be present here, but you may forever visit the Astral Home in your dreams, if you so choose.”

At that moment, Vestec's avatar appeared nearby. Both Escre and Invidia noticed it immediately, and the latter reached for his axe. The warden, however, reached out a calming claw. ”Do not attack...this is a mere semblance of the Execrable Chaos. It has little power, and is purposed to communicate. This close to the Astral Home, it is in my domain, and will not be able to corrupt you. Allow it to say its piece.”

Without so much as saying goodbye, Escre hovered off. It entered the Planet Cord, and around it ignited a wreath of white flame. It rocketed through the Cord, away from the Astral Home, past Galbar's surface, and into its atmosphere. There, it stopped, and deigned to turn around for a moment and observe the planet for whose livelihood it was responsible. A quiet, thoughtful moment passed as the pale eyes surveyed the lands, the waters, and the creatures that inhabited them. Orabil's light had been diminished, but the Empyrean Flow would help to illuminate the darkness should Vestec see fit to inflict it once more.

Until this day Escre's purpose, to bring life to the void and create a self-sustaining balance that would allow life to grow and develop on its own, had been only half-complete. It was time to devote its attentions to the removal of an obstacle that prevented its purpose's completion.

Escre's halo solidified behind it from white light, was turned toward Galbar, and exuded a brilliant flare. Any living things on the planet who at that moment cast their eyes to the heavens would see a strange display—a white star, shooting across the sky, growing smaller and smaller until it faded into the distance—the departure of a god.

Might
19 MP remain
3 FP remain

[Rtron]

Vestec, God of Chaos

Might: 9

Freepoint: 3

Vestec shrugged. "You call them atrocities, I call them entertainment. Toys, mortals, they're all one in the same to Gods. Despite your claims, I suspect the stars won't go out because of your distress at our methods. Not all of them are dragons, and not all dragons are yours, remember. And besides, I'm the God of Chaos, remember? You make something orderly, I have fun with it. Just because you're disturbed by it doesn't make it any less enjoyable." He looked at Astarte and chuckled. "Of course, help is always welcome." He returned his attention to Sauranoth. "The dragon isn't yours. Astarte wasn't doing anything wrong. All in all, your interference is puzzling."

Meanwhile, Vestec's avatar stirred to life, looking around until it found the Outsider. It's eyes changed color with the same chaotic randomness as Vestec's body. "Invidia! I feel like we should talk. Last time you had your god around to protect you and that made you unreasonably aggressive. Being sheltered from any repercussion of a loose tongue does, that. I have done nothing to wrong you, have I? Your Outsiders are hunted and butchered, true, but you already responded with making your communion hunt the Anju. Of course, they've adapted as well as you have. For everyone one you kill, two recognize and fix the mistake. It'll be an eternal war, I'm afraid. Not to mention, the other races, especially the humans, primarily view both of you as monsters. Though your communion has been working on that, hasn't it? Tell me, why do you still wear your mask and hide your true identity from your followers? Do you not trust them? Do you fear meeting the same fate as your predecessor?"

[Scarifar]

Ferghus, Master of the Forge

Ferghus could feel that feeling again. The feeling of radiating power in a concentrated area. That could only mean one thing: a group of gods were gathering. Ferghus regretted not going the first time he felt this, and decided that now would be a good time. After placing a rod he had been examining back onto a rack, Ferghus summoned flames around him, then teleported himself over to where he sensed the gathering. There, he found Astarte, Vestec, and that dragon god whose name he never actually learned.

Ferghus examined all of them, seeing how everyone was doing. "Good day, everyone," Ferghus greeted them. "Astarte, beautiful as the day I first saw you. Pity about Vestec, though. Speaking of which..." Ferghus continued, then turned to Vestec and said, "Vesteeeeec, how... fortunate to come across you. I have some business to discuss with you." Finally he turned to Sauranath and greeted, "And hello to you... Uh, Lord of Dragons," making up some random title to try to hide the fact that he didn't know his name. Ferghus paused for a second, then asked, "So, what seems to be the conflict this time?"

[ActRaiserTheReturned]

"Astarte and Vestec are torturing a dragon they call their own. I could destroy them if I wished, but two Star Lords against one doesn't even resemble anything related to good odds, even for me. One dragon's torment may not allow me to risk the lives of all the world down below. The loss of Chaos might have Cosmic consequences, and if I am removed, all of dragon kind might suffer repercussions that are unspeakable. Then, the sky would grow dim, at least for a little, until the Star Lords replace the missing stars with stars of their own. I look around and there is madness all over the world. The Star children have very good lives, but their rates of reproduction are low. I've given them stronger fertility but with Cimex and Humanity, and magic users beginning to grow in numbers, along with the Wi users of stronger powers, they should be equal to dragon kind in little over one millenia. This is not to mention that I have been in hibernation for too long to realize that as we make things on the world Down Below, it expends our strength."

[Frettzo]

Astarte, Goddess of Magic

Summary

- Nothing important really.

She crossed her arms over her chest as Ferghus appeared. She threw a smile in his direction as she shrugged.

"The conflict? We-"

Sauranath interrupted her. She waited until he finished speaking and resumed her speech. "Basically, Sauranath, the God of Fire Breathing Lizards, is threatening to attack both Vestec and I because we're playing with a dragon. He seems to believe all dragons are his, and he also seems to believe we should care about his beliefs." Astarte frowned and snarled as she glared at Sauranath. "You should stop calling them Star Children too, that sounds really diminutive. They're not children, and they certainly aren't yours to babysit either."

As a show of defiance, she looked at the Dragon she had been taming just a moment ago and spoke, "Are you property of this whiny lizard?"

"... N-No?"

Astarte smirked and turned back to face Sauranath. "See? He's not yours, so go breathe your fetid fire on someone else."

[Lugubrious]

Summary

The Bastion called Forever Fall has been created for a specific purpose.
It has been populated by deathless magical guards, the Wardens, to defend it.
It has been filled with arcane seals, which greatly hinder godly intrusion, to protect it.

Invidia, the Liaison

Without a deity around, Invidia nevertheless did not hesitate to reply to Vestec's avatar. “I am[i] my predecessor. I remember with perfect clarity the pain, abandonment, and hatred, and I remember more acutely the lessons it taught me. Nothing is to be trusted. No mortal, no ally, no self-proclaimed god. All hold the capacity to give or to take away. The Great Spirit created me and began my order, and for that we acknowledge it, but we worship it exactly as much as we do the other High Ones: not at all.”

“I won't stoke your ego by rising to your taunts. Outsiders will prevail over Anju, for we learn as well as they, and reproduce more effectively. The outsiders remain a secret race; the races know nothing of our existence save phantoms in the night and moments of uncertainty. I, however, have a question for you. It is not what your purpose is, I know that well enough. It is not what you hope to gain by defiling creation, I know it is the mere act that satisfies you. My question is this: how long? Chaos is incapable of making permanent allies, for compromise and alliance is order; you'll betray Undasis and Astarte like the rest. How long is it that you think you have before the High Ones grow tired of your disgusting, pathetic existence, and return you to the void from which you've come?”

Escre – the Great Spirit

It was a long time before those ivory fires began to sputter and die. How far it was from Galbar, Escre couldn't rightfully say. The distance that separated the Great Spirit from the Astral Home was astronomically immense to mortals, but never too far for the god of Life. From here, the beat of even that planet's spirit felt very faint indeed, and the souls of the other divinities were untraceable. Here, Escre felt, it could work in privacy.

The trip here had been spent in deep meditation, regardless of the roaring white blaze that enveloped it. Without emotion to cloud its judgment or sight, the Great Spirit was capable of recalling anything that it had seen if it tried hard enough. Now, in empty space not too far from a greenish nebula, Escre attempted to remember. The feeling of soft, weightless gasses moving against its robes, causing that cloth to billow, pulled from the depths of its mind an aria of wind, and Escre made it so.

Where before there had been nothing, a greenish hue took form. Not quite like the wispy trails and incandescent fragments of star that made up the neighboring nebula, it was a cohesive pocket of atmosphere. Dark clouds surrounded it, making it nearly indistinguishable from space from an outside perspective. If a living thing were put inside, it would be able to breath normally, until the air drifted apart. To keep that from happening, Escre returned again to the lanes of memory, and found underfoot a melody of stone.

Rock appeared within the lonesome air, providing an anchor to keep the little atmosphere together. Escre went in and held out its hands, an empty sleeve and a metal claw, and began to mold the rock to the tune of its shining halo. Knowing well the feel of bricks, smooth walls, rampart, roof, vault, and column, Escre carved the rock into the shape of a great citadel. But the building couldn't help but instill Escre with a feeling of emptiness, a void of life, one most unfitting for a divinity such as it.

Escre cast its mind back to the living things of Galbar. It remembered the beasts, and the grass, and the trees, and shaped them into a madrigal of life. Plantlife began to take shape in the courtyards of the citadel, yellowish grass and pale trees with orange leaves, as if this place were locked in an eternal autumn. From a harmony of water small rivers began to flow through the courtyards, and in them spawned little fish. On the battlements formed motionless creatures of stone, gargoyles sitting in menacing silence. Escre remained a little longer in its position, making the finishing touches, before floating to and landing on a circular platform.

It swept into the main entrance, taking on the appearance of its Nightwalker form. Its footsteps on marble tiles echoed through the long halls as it made its way to the main staircase. Up it went, running a hand along the smooth railing, until it reached a massive, cylindrical chamber lines with blue glass. This time, when Escre looked back into all that it had seen and felt, it searched not for things of beauty or magnificence. It sought every drop of hatred and suffering that it could find, then held out its hands and created a Singularity. It appeared to be a raging spiral, bristling with dark, violent colors and streaks of scarlet lightning, and if Escre's calculations were correct this malignant spiral could end the life of anything thrown into it, erasing it from existence more thoroughly than Escre's soul-devouring could.

Naturally, Escre left the chamber with haste. It would not do to remain in the presence of such a malevolent entity. Though the singularity had been bound to the great structure, the latter contained the former, and it would remain stable until it was called upon. As Escre retracted its steps, it waved a hand at every door and window it passed. All slammed shut and blazed momentarily with arcane seals designed to keep anything with the signature of another god on it from passing. When it reached the main, open platform, Escre drew upon its own power to pull souls from its lantern and reincarnate them on the spot. They took strange forms; some were reminiscent of women, but formed of black and white lifeblood made flesh, and others took on aspects of Mortemulta Escre. They were the Wardens, and their incarnation heralded the institution of a new order: if destroyed, their souls could not be sent back to the Astral Home. Instead, they would reincarnate after a short delay, making them the first deathless beings. Their sole purpose: to defend the Bastion of Forever Fall.

This, Escre communicated to them. Silently they turned and reentered the Bastion, moving through the sealed doors and taking up defensive positions.

Then Escre left. It had many things to do, much distance to travel, and not nearly enough time to do it.

Might
18 MP spent to create the Bastion called Forever Fall, a Holy Site, 1 MP to create the Wardens, 0 remain
1 FP spent to remember certain things from Galbar and bring them here. 1 FP spent to seal Forever Fall against the intrusion of other gods. 1 FP remains.
Inherent powers used to deny the Wardens access to the Astral Home upon death.

[LokiLeo789]

Arguis

Name:
Arguis

Might
8
3 FreePoints
(15 used to become Level 20.)

Level
20

Domains/Portfolios:
Knowledge
(Nigh Omniscience)

Summary:
Arguis meditates high above Galbar, watching everything go on.
Quiet, for now...

Arguis drifted away from everything in a sense. As if now, he wanted silence. He had grown tired of the gods, tired of Galbar, they had grown boring. He needed to find out why. Arguis sat crisscross apple sauce, floating high above Galbar, it's serenity proved to calm his soul. Unfortunately, Galbar was far from serenity and calm, he knew that himself. The people of Galbar were going to war, the god of Chaos was having a merry time messing with everything, the Dragon god had gone and overstepped his boundaries, all things that he saw long before, actually at the moment of his conception. Arguis felt no pleasure in being the holder of almost all the knowledge in the universe, their was no satisfaction in knowing all things, for Arguis, their was only loneliness and despair. Why the sudden change in attitude? Arguis did not know it himself, meditation gave beings time to think, and he came to this conclusion.

Arguis sighed, he was the god of Knowledge, and yet he did not spread it. He knew all things yet he did not give answers. He understood all things that he did not help others understand. What was the point of his conception? His current existence was an insult to those who created him. What was left for him to do? Theses were the times that Arguis hated the most. This times were he did not have the answer to his own question.

Arguis made up his mind. If the answer would not revel itself to him, then he would revel it himself. With the knowledge of the universe at his disposal, Arguis would change this for Galbar, weather the other gods found this to be a hindrance or an advancement, he did not care. First thing was first, Arguis would help bring order to Galbar. In order to do that, he would need to become order itself.

[Rtron]

Vestec, God of Chaos

Might: 9

Freepoint: 3

The Avatar laughed at Invidia, giggling with amusement. "You misunderstand my purpose, Invidia. I don't dislike Order. I recognize it as a necessity. Too much chaos and it's just as boring as too much Order. There has to be high points of both, neh? Hence the Golden Age before this time of war. Why do you think I don't try to sow discord between Vowzra and your creator, or pay that much attention to Undasis' realm of the sea? There always must be something to oppose me, and Undasis keeps a nice balance in their realm. But of course, your creator has left, hasn't he? And the Time God has taken after Svieland and turned a cold shoulder to the world. A pity. I may have to reign in a few things I've set in motion. As for betrayal...you truly know nothing if you think that will happen. Do not assume everyone has your terror, your fear, and your doubt. Least of all Gods.

Vestec's avatar sighed, shaking its head at the Outsider. "It's pitiful that the God of Chaos has more trust than the one claiming to protect humanity. Tell me, how would your followers react if they knew you only view them as betrayals waiting to happen? That you have lied to them, that you fear them. Rather than trying to teach your followers what your predecessors followers did not have, you encourage it. If you so fear humanity, why protect them? After all, you clearly believe they are only going to betray and hurt you again. You are so defiant of the Gods, but so scared of the mortals. I find it curious."

Vestec's avatar shrugged, casting aside the subject for a moment and walking towards Invidia, idly toying with the hero's axe. "As for Outsiders reproducing more effectively, it only makes sense. Predators exist to make sure the prey does not grow too comfortable, nor too numerous. The Anju are nothing more than predators to your kind. For every one you kill, two recognize the attacks and kill your communion. You can't adapt naturally to see through magic, after all. But this argument gets us nowhere. You will say your communion is destroying the Anju, I will point out that they're not, and we will go no where."

The eyes suddenly turned pure black and the mask smiled, staring at the Outsider. "What I'm more interested in is seeing how your precious followers react to knowing you don't trust them with the simplest of things. When your nature is revealed to them, I wonder what will happen. I say they will be surprised, hurt even, but not murderous and hateful. You claim differently. Let us make a bet, you and I. If I'm right, and they do not hate you and can be trusted, you swear servitude for...twenty years. If I'm wrong, I will bless the Communion with the ability to see through the Anju shadow magics for twenty years. A fair deal, neh?"

Meanwhile, in the argument over Lizzy...

Vestec turned to look at the Forge God. "Business? Is this about the Twins? I only corrupted them. They willingly went to serve Garakai. Nonetheless I'll hear you out." He replied cheerfully, returning his gaze to Sauranath as the lizard spoke. He let Astarte adequately explain the situation, his chaotic colors slowing down and red showing up more often. "Astarte summed up the situation nicely, though, I must say, you have brave words for a lizard that was scared off by me, Escre, and Vowzra not to long ago."

[Lugubrious]

Invidia, the Liaison

Truly, it seemed that at every opportunity, Vestec could not help but burst out giggling like a human child. Did he truly find everything so amusing, Invidia wondered, or could he think of no other physical action to inject into his blathering? The outsider held its hands behind its back, as if it were attending a sermon. “Fear is a phenomenon my kind do not share. We were not given the capacity, and we are the stronger for it. All I have is observation and probability, and it is upon those that I rely. I am simply more careful around mortals because I have the power to react against them and influence them, which I do not have against the High Ones. For your ilk, the only say I have is whether or not I submit to yours. The other High Ones may not fear you, but more than a few already despise you. Should you attempt something radical, it would take very little to rally them against you.”

For a moment, the outsider seemed incredulous. “Kill the communion? But the communion is overbearingly human. If your Anju will murder men as well as outsiders, then they're petty murderers, and not the poetic hunters you paint them as.” To his knowledge, Invidia knew little of the slaying of Communion monks. Well-armed, never alone, and extraordinarily tough for mortals kill due to their lifeblood consumption and constitution, they fell far less easily than lonely outsiders.

Upon hearing Vestec's offer, Invidia would have smirked, had it a face. “Your perception of my Communion seems rather obtuse, for a being gifted with magical knowledge. Through consumption of lifeblood, the monks have become different from normal humans. Huge, predatory, or disfigured...many possibilities. I will reveal myself to them, and none will bat an eye, for we are all monsters now. But you will have to worry me for a good deal longer, Execrable One, before I'm pliable enough to make a deal with the devil. I do not fear those with whom I am bonded by blood, but I will not humor your fetishes. The Anju and outsiders have reached a balance, evidently, one that I can live with. We do not need your meddling to continue taking six eyes for an eye.”