[center][h3][color=696969]Escre - the Great Spirit[/color][/h3]
[i]Might: 0 - 3 used to level up, 1 expended to empower orb[/i][/center]

When the words of its creators pierced the ethereal emptiness, Escre froze, rapt at attention.  It needn't have heard more to discern that it had been summoned.  Without even considering the possibility of an alternative, Escre made an immediate about-face and drifted back toward the region of space and possibility that contained the unimaginable beings called Invictus and Fate.  As it ascended, it felt the beat of godly spirits coming closer, and a sweeping look from side to side confirmed that the other deities, too, had heeded the call.  This did not astonish the warden, of course, for none of them could flippantly disregard the will of the gods of gods.  Those that Escre had not before seen drew nearer, and for the first time, the tempo of their spirits, too, reverberated through it.  Escre hung in the nothingness, waiting with bated breath for future instruction.  

It said, did, and thought nothing as it witnessed the miracle.  Truly, the furthest-flung spheres of the imagination were but baby steps for the majestic, infinite power of Invictus and Fate, for as Escre's pale eyes fixed unswervingly on the gathering orb, its power chilled Escre's own spirit.  This was the raw stuff of creation, a fickle and uncanny substance capable of making or unmaking anything.  Insignificance was not something Escre and its kin were made to feel—unless their gods of gods willed that the lesser gods knew their place.  

In the rhythm of the orb Escre began to detect a pattern, something only a grandmaster of spirits might feel.  The singularity of endlessness within that orb strummed an ethereal tune, not unlike the beat of a soul but ever more intangible, like beating a drum versus picking up water.  The futility of understanding it frustrated Escre, trying to convince it that it was nothing but a mere cog in the machine, without a separate existence, and only part of something bigger.  That could not be right.  Escre could not question its creators, but it could wonder at the threads of song weaving through the nothingness.  The gods of gods had given the Great Spirit a purpose; if it was not its own being, then it could not carry out that purpose.  As the universe orb finally stood still, perched at the fingertips of Invictus, Escre whispered into the dark, [i]I am.[/i]

The orb came its way third, after visiting and partaking of Vowzra and Arguis.  Escre let go of its lantern and scythe.  The others had placed their palms on the orb, evidently in order to give it something of theirs.  Escre wasn't quite sure what the orb would do after collecting something from each of the gods, but it understood that unknown result as a cooperative venture.  For a moment Escre stared at the orb, unsure.  What could it give of itself to something so important?  It held up its hands.  One was empty metal, and the other empty cloth.  In essence, Escre was emptiness, devoid of body...but plentiful in spirit.

Escre bowed its head slowly, and with utmost gentleness pressed its head against the orb.  Colors and sounds exploded through its mind, the wavelength and frequency of a trillion spirits beating in harmony, and just as quickly they were gone, leaving only a ringing pain in their wake.  Escre floated back, but the orb had already whirred off to its next subject.  The warden's mind was fuzzy, but its spirit now beat as brightly as any of the other gods.

Perhaps even more.