________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Description Cunning as a fox and slippery as a weasel; this can safely be said of the Godmother. Lacking as she does the powers of her siblings, she instead plots, spinning webs of intrigue. Patient as only an immortal can be, she enjoys laying down traps that will only be sprung centuries later. She is cautious: brashness annoys her. Most things annoy her, truth be told, and she prefers to be kept away from other, brooding by herself. Solitude fortifies the mind, she claims, but it has also aggravated her prickly nature, and she has gone slightly mad over the millennia, though this might simply be observers not comprehending actions that only bear fruit long after they're dead.
Once a renown beauty, she has become a withered husk in the last thousand years, her hair bleached and unkempt, her flesh sagging. Where once she commanded respect and authority by her simple presence, now she relies on her reputation and position for reverence. The Godmother holds ostentatiousness in disdain. She wears the same simple garments as she did in the age of Dawn, a stark contrast with the ever more contrived fashion of the senatorial class, or it would be if they were ever found in the same room. ________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Powers The godmother is certainly one of the weaker Children. She is in physical aspects as frail as a mortal, an old mortal in her current state even. Her strength lies in the mind: she has the gift of prophecy, hence her title of "Seer", and can see the future, in a muddled and inexact way. In older days, she was also known to weave magic and witchcraft, though these talents have waned greatly since then. But first and foremost, her gift was in granting mortals portions of her power. In this way, she would create heroes, and use them as pawns in her various plans. ________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Original tribe The modern Etruscans are the direct descendents of the tribe that followed Eyra a thousand years ago. She lead them more directly than most Children, even in those days a kind of queen; Indeed, the Etruscans were a deeply superstitious people, and they believed that the Seer was the representative of the gods on the mortal world. This belief was warped into the later monotheistic worship of her, incidentally. They did not live in large cities at the time, living as small-scale landholders, their land dotted by the occasional hill fort. They were deeply involved in the Wars of the Children and the conflict between the Angels and the Demons, Eyra being foremost among the former.
An adaptable culture, they often absorbed the tribes of imprisoned demons, in such a way that they were the largest tribe when the Angels had achieved victory. The Betrayal saw them turn on their east-while allies, massacring tribes or incorporating them into the Etruscan whole. Still, as the largest and most hated tribe in the world, they were a prime target for everyone else, and during the first century afterwards their territory shrunk rapidly as they were beset on all sides. However, still lead by the Seer, they slowly built back up their strength. They conquered and assimilated their way into world domination; in the process, much of the old tribal ways were lost as new tribes were incorporated, making the modern Etruscan seem quite different to their ancestor of antiquity. ________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Faction Angel. Eyra was foremost among them, directing their battles and focusing her comrades. ________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Anecdotes During the Dawn, and the never-ending clash between the Angels and the Demons, Eyra the Seer was chief among those Children who desired to protect and nurture humanity, arrayed against those that sought to enslave it. She did not often appear on battlefields, being barely more useful than the common foot soldier in such a physical confrontation. Instead, she acted as her faction's tactician, planning battles and keeping her siblings focused on the cause. It was she who, in her wisdom, saw the need to erect The Pit to house the malignant Children, so as to spare the world of their violence.
Somewhere along the way, however, she decided that she could not trust her fellow Angels to leave humanity alone either, and in the Betrayal she tricked them into imprisonment as well. She kept herself at a distance from humanity for a hundred years, during the dark age that followed the Betrayal. Her tribe suffered greatly at the hands of vengeful enemies, and she eventually was moved by pity into retaking control of them. For a thousand years, she has ruled from the golden palace of Analos, as her republic has become the sole power of the world. ________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Opinions
Kinion the Fool: If there is one thing that Eyra cannot abide, it is unpredictability. And suffice it to say, she has had far too much experience with his brand of it for her own liking. She always tried to avoid working with him as much as possible, painful experience teaching her that much. There is method to his madness, she can see, a kind of purpose behind every incomprehensible trickery, but deciphering it is above even the Godmother's patience.
O-Dan: She respects the old monk, if for no other reason than that he understands the value of patience and restraint. Of all the Children, he is perhaps the one she regrets locking away the most, having been close to him previous to the Betrayal.
Nod: A mindless beast unworthy of the name Child.
Kozz the Forgemaster: A talented smith and one of her most valuable assets during the War of Dawn. Her view of him is one of respect.
Azoth: The very reason why she decided to construct The Pit. He is an agent of chaos and destruction, and far too dangerous to allow free roam in the world.
Fool? Wise man? Idiot? Savant? Liar? Prophet? All these words have been used to describe Kinion in his time. Maybe they are all right or maybe they are all wrong but he isn't telling. For time out of mind, Kinion has been the joker in the playing cards of the Children, the fool in the tarot deck of fate. Others had agendas to pursue and empires to raise but Kinion seemed content to merely meddle with the plans of others, nudging here and overturning there, always appearing at just the right moment to tip the balance one way or the other. To trace his path through ancient history is simply to follow the pattern of mayhem and chaos his actions almost invariably caused.
In his manner, Kinion is capricious and irreverent as only an immortal can be. He might ignore and Emperor to talk to a pauper but is just as likely to kick a beggar down the steps in front of a holy man. As a favoured form, he looks like a young man with pale skin, often wearing flowing robes and a mask of some sort. More often than not he forgoes shoes or any clothes other than a mask and robe. He laughs easily and jokes often, taking the time to try and bring a smile to the faces of even the most solemn of his siblings, though he feels it is more for his benefit than theirs. It is sometimes hard to tell but the wiser Children know that Kinion is not purely random. He acts according to a personal code or reason, a method to his madness, but even Eyra knows not what it might be.
Powers
They say that a good fool should be able to go where the wise cannot. Kinion can go everywhere and anywhere, no lock barring him and no portal holding him, with one notable exception. His ability is as mysterious as the rest of him but when he approaches somewhere others would rather he not, like a locked door or fortified castle, he will simply appear past whatever barriers were erected with a roguish chuckle and continue to do as he pleases. Similarly, locks click open at his touch and knots untie themselves in his presence. Distance is no more of an obstacle to Kinion than a locked door, the fool seeming to be able to cover miles at an impossible rate. He does not disappear and then reappear, rather he seems to wander, meander and travel by ignoring distance until he arrives. He has been known to traverse the entire continent in a day. Apart from these powers, however, he is as fragile as any mortal and can be killed quite simply, if he hangs around long enough for others to try. Kinion has never been one to stay dead for long, however, usually reappearing within a few years.
Original tribe
In days long past, Kinion's people were called the Kabrics. They were a nomadic people who wandered from place to place, exchanging fortune tellings for provisions and songs for suppers or occasionally simply taking what they wanted and leaving at speed. They never had any armies and didn't engage in the wars that oft consumed the continent, preferring to hold themselves aloft as separate and independent. When Kinion was there to keep them out of harms way, they tended to escape retribution for most of their less than lawful actions. With him imprisoned, they were wiped out within a few generations, either settling down and mixing with the other tribes or being hung as thieves.
Faction
Kinion was an independent in the war, choosing neither to declare himself for the angelic or demonic sides. But he was seen as too chaotic to be allowed to continue to meddle in the affairs of man by many of the angels and was forcibly imprisoned in the Pit towards the end of the war, some 1200 years ago. For all the children in the Pit, this fate was perhaps the cruellest for Kinion, his very essence and soul being that of a free and unfettered soul.
Anecdotes
In the dawn times, Kinion would often lead one faction to believe he was fighting for them, only disappear just when he was most needed, or unlock the gates of a fortress and leave. As infuriating and unhelpful as his exploits were, he could equally be a most effective ally, slipping into the fortifications of the enemy to eavesdrop, steal or importune. The only difficulty lay in ensuring he would not simply go straight to whichever Child of Aton controlled the opposition and tell all he knew of the other's plans. More pragmatic leaders preferred not to risk his fickle allegiances but those with a more romantic or risk loving turn of mind generally chose to see the positives of recruiting him rather than the risks.
So many are the tales of skullduggery and trickery that it would take an age to recite them all. Some of his most well known, however, revolve around the parable of the wise fool. Kinion famously came to a land (the details of where have been lost to antiquity) where two kings were often at war, as had their fathers been and their father's fathers. Each king begged than Kinion end the fighting by helping him destroy the other's city state. Instead, Kinion stole away the sons of both kings and took them beyond the reach of their royal parents. For many years, nothing was heard of him or the boys, Kinion having taken them to the wilderness to train and teach together, but when they were grown men each returned to their native land and were embraced by their parents. And when they ascended to the throne, they promised never to make war on each other, not wishing to undo the long years of friendship they'd had during their upbringing. But just as it seemed that Kinion had brought peace to the land, he returned and told the people of each city that he had fooled them, switching the boy's names when he took them. Each one was ruled over by the spawn of their hated enemy. In a rage, mobs tore down the ruling districts of each city state, murdered the kings in their beds and from it a republic that incorporated both cities was born.
Philosophers have often argued about what the meaning or moral of this 'fable' is, some saying is is 'change never comes easily', others that it's 'hate is more powerful than love' but all can agree on one; never trust a Child of Aton.
Opinions
Eyra "When angel fought demon and the earth was hell, Eyra looked forward and made many a cell." "She chained up the children and locked us away, if she meant to release us no one can say." "But she ruled the earth well, that we all can see. But now the Children are once again free..." "So bring on the chaos and bring on the pain, for we will never be locked up again."
Before being imprisoned in the Pit, Kinion bore no particular ill will towards his siter Eyra. She was just another planner to him, someone who constructed where he would prefer to pull down. But after being denied the freedom that he so requires to be himself for over a thousand years, he now holds something of a grudge. The sort of grudge that might cause someone to burn cities to the ground and dance amongst the flames.
Wu Dan "Wise man, wise man, what should I do?" "Young man, young man, that's up to you."
Wisdom, order, serenity. These are the domains of Grandmaster Wu-Dan, none of which are much to the liking of Kinion the fool. If ever there were two opposites amongst the children, here they stand.
Nod "A fist is his hand and there's rage in his heart" "But heaven forfend, he knows not of art."
The singleminded determination that is personified by Nod is both amusing and irritating to Kinion. On the one hand, it represents eveything that is contrary to Kinion's way of life. On the other, it is most humorous to see one who has, from the point of view of a fool, misunderstood things so badly.
Kozz "The giant makes his swords and armour, for lord knows he'll never charm her."
Slow and steady types are targets for chaos but not very satisfying ones.
Azoth "Lies and mischief though in purpose pure, loses its once gaudy allure."
The fundamental difference between Azoth and Kinion is that one uses chaos to further a goal and for the other chaos is the goal.
Therelon "Who flies in the cold and records your words?" "He's high in the sky, that lord of the birds."
The Tower was long one of Kinion's favourite stops to raise a little hell and pass on a few scraps of information. In so far as Kinion can be surprised (being surprised requires one to have plans and expectations of what the future holds) he was surprised when Therelon did nothing to prevent his imprisonment in the pit.
Chinasa "Where have all the colours gone and where are all the hues?" "The palid man walks and a pale light soon ensues."
In the days of Dawn, Kinion thought little of Chinasa but times have changed. Here is another who would see the empire of Eyra fall about her ear's.
Tarthus "The child said, why fight a fight I know I just can't win?" "The warrior said, it's all going to end, why shouldn't I sin?" "The grandmother said, for that's where life doth truly begin."
Death is nothing to a Child of Aton, an inconvenient obstacle overcome with patience. Death is for mortals, time is for the undying.
Aylin "Calm, slow and all alone." "A huntress without a home."
A solitary huntress is of little interest to a jester beloved of intrigue though all will have a part to play in the games to come.
Ash "Many faces, changing places, never one to last."
Of all the Children, Ash and Kinion as perhaps the most similar. Change, chaos, a double edged sword.
Zhystkrexas "Gifts and deals, bargains and trades" "Ash, dust, satisfaction fades."
Kinion makes no bargains and heeds no deals though he appreciates the sad irony in giving someone what they want, only for it to destroy them.
Kilgarrah " To roar, to rip, to smash, to scream, it does not take an mind too keen."
The Dargon's anger and frustration at Kinion's nature has long been one of the Fool's favourite sources of amusement.
Kalikmalo "Yes, no? I don't think so." "Let language fool the ear, never be far, never be near."
Speaking a language almost no one else can is a fine jest, to be sure, but does rather limit the interaction a child of Aton can have with their siblings.
Nefas Sen "Blood does seep and mothers weep as sons go gladly to the deep." "The monsters howl and slaughters, turning red the sunken waters." "Queen of the sea, now you too are free.
To tweak the tail (or monstrous legs) of the Queen of the depths was a rare pleasure in the times of old. Now both Kinion and Nefas have other things on their minds.
O-Dan / Wu The Grandmaster/ Spirit of the Mountain
________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Description Raw power meets stern discipline. Wu Dan meditates upon the universe, listening carefully to the cosmic cycles as the seasons pass. An immortal with time to spare, endlessly pursuing that which eludes his kin: Death. Beneath the flowing white beard and solemn expression upon his long brow, the old master has let time touch his appearance, but not his body for few could challenge him physically even now in his old age. Yet in the irony of it all, despite the overwhelming amount of power exerted by his presence, Wu Dan is content with watching the flows of the universe going in and out rarely interceding unless to defend those who revere him as their guardian. It is his sacred duty to protect his people, for they are only beginning to learn to defend themselves.
Taking the appearance of an elder, though hardly decrepit as one may expect from an old man his age, Wu Dan is still an epitome of physicality. Only steadfast bones to bear deceptively wiry muscles under gaunt sagely skin, blood vessels which easily explode out, visible as he moves barefoot swiftly across a battlefield doling out thunderous blows. His balding crown hidden underneath his conical hat, and his white facial hair impressively making his pure-white eyes that much more intimidating. One glance at him, and one knows this was no ordinary old hermit as he sits holding his prayer beads in a two-toned robe. ________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Powers The Grandmaster is amongst the more powerful of the children, yet despite this, downplays his abilities for the sake of his philosophy. His body explodes with physicality hidden beneath the modest monk robes. The iron prayer beads around his wrist deceptively heavy as they aid to weigh him down, it is said that only the virtuous could ever hope to hold the beads without being pulled under by their tremendous weight. It is true, for the beads represent the weight of the burdens upon one's morality, the more innocence that is lost, the heavier they become as the ultimate device to punish the wicked. Of which, why the Grandmaster finds them heavy enough to restrain him should raise a question.
There is also a form of magic Wu Dan dabbles in from which stems the art of the Death Monk. The power of the mind over the body, and the spirit over the mind, and the body over the spirit culminates in the obscure magic of the Calling. A technique where one's voice becomes a projection of one's will, and one's will becomes a physical force, and the physical force becomes one's voice. Speak, and the universe listens, ask, and it shall tell, but shout? Shout and it will quiver. Legends say the first Death Monks could kill people with a whisper, are probably grossly exaggerated, but they can force you into submission by merely speaking to you. And by speaking, they have harnessed the power of the universe. ________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Original tribe The in the farthest reaches of the mountainous north, the oldest of the Qayu remember the tales of their ancient patron. The first tribe of the region, who remain upon the tallest peak in all the land, towering over the constructs of man as the mountains pierce the morning clouds. Here they believe the spirit of the mountain protects them from harm by the majesty of its might. Who dared to attack the mountain when it could fall upon you? This spirit was Wu Dan, who built his temple from the sacred peak and in days of old, taught the Qayu the ways of combat.
The spirit of the mountain patron dwelt upon the peak of the mountain in Shangrila, also called Valhalla, where Shangrila is the temple itself, and Valhalla is the name for the arena of the temple grounds. And the mountain was the highest peak in all the land frozen in high clouds, yet actually a long dormant volcano, with Shangrila being found in the crater, allowing for sacred hot spring well fed from the melting mountain snow to nourish the hidden temple garden from which the tree of the mountain grows the golden peaches of nirvana.
Beneath the high temple are 8 temples dedicated to learning the ways of killing, as opposed to the normal settlements lower on the mountain which are pleased with learning the arts of war, women, and wine. These 8 temples are home to the Death Monks, fearsome warriors which dedicate their lives to the study of death. The monks train to become experts in combat, routinely getting themselves seriously injured or killed in tournaments to progress their ranks and maybe one day become the master of their school by taking the pilgrimage to the peak and impressing the Grandmaster in a single-bout duel. To do so would be to blow the horn of Valhalla, a fabled horn carved from ancient wood that sits frozen within the temple and announce the newest Master of the 8 schools, and calls for the ritual suicide of the last master who shall throw himself off the mountain to make way for his successor. Although the true horn is actually a smoking pipe carried and used often by the grandmaster, and anyone who he shares a smoke with shall be given authority over the mountain and take his place as he ascends to the heavens until the death of the latest mortal protector.
Of course living on a cold mountain, there is little to no vegetation, and certainly while ores were readily available from the mountain, wood was a rare commodity. There is also few in the name of animals, merely wolves which come from the foot of the mountain, rams which avoid the wolves from the bottom by surviving in the upper parts of the cold mountain, ravens which pick the frozen flesh off the dead and the occasional fish from the frozen rivers. From these animal aspects, the schools of the Wolf, Ram, Raven and Fish were created in two flavours, the white and the black, each specializing in a unique style of killing and philosophy.
Since food is scarce, the society is slightly twisted in a sense that, in this polygamous patriarchy, men and women were expected to settle down and have a family within their 25th year, and women were to bear many offspring to continue their tribe's survivability in their remote mountain nation. This of course leads to plenty of inbreeding and bad genetics, so most of its people have some degree of albinism and other rare genetic diseases, some good some bad. But essentially there are 4 major noble families ruling the mountain, with one Khan ruling as administrative king of the mountain. The men of course are graded by the number of wives they have had, thus concubines are plenty, along with strong fermented alcohols which will keep your body warm in the coldest nights surrounded by your multiple women. And women are graded by the number of children they have produced, for a barren women was considered useless. And all citizens who did not marry and have children by the age of 25, or those who are too old (and not important enough) to be of child-bearing capacity are slaughtered for meat in the cold seasons. Yes, ritualistic cannibalism was practiced as it was necessary to sustain the population. Those who feared death by slaughter could venture up the mountain to be taken in by the monks, only perhaps to die in one of their tournaments. Either way, it is a hard life, but easy death for everyone.
But not all of the Qayu preferred death. Only the oldest of the Qayu remain dedicated to their sacred mountain, despite the disappearance of the grandmaster. As the generations go, tradition was forsaken in fear of death. Thus in lieu of dying with the monks, the younger generations fled south, to where the mountains were not as harsh and gave way to greener valleys. Those who remain in the mountain are doomed, clinging on to their old "barbaric" ways. in modern times, after being conquered by the Repbulic, The old mountain is in a state of political turmoil. 4 factions vying for power over the sacred mountain, and the rest of Qayu. There is the Khan and his court who is in charge of the militant branch, the 4 Noble Families who are exerting socioeconomic pressure, and finally the Eight Masters who have lost their mythical leader and are now barely able to control their own schools let alone their spirituality. And of course there is the Etruscian Republic which wants to keep the entire region under control as they puppet the 3 factions into destroying themselves.
As such geopolitical landscape is essentially changed into one of a cold war between all three. The Nobles having enlisted the Etruscian forces to back them against the Khan in a political measure. The Khan in turn seeking authoritative mandate against the Nobles from the Monks who have none because their Grandmaster is gone. And the Monks crumbling internally as the 8 schools are dying off with their internal affairs in attempting to produce a substitute for the grandmaster. It is at this time, where the Grandmaster needs to make a return and justify everything before the entire mountain erupts and destroys the world or so the legend goes that the Mountain erupts only at cataclysm, and will herald the destruction of everything, Angels, Demons, and Mortals. ________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Anecdotes During the Dawn, and the never-ending clash between the Angels and the Demons, Wu Dan the Grandmaster was among those Children who desired to protect and nurture humanity, arrayed against those that sought to enslave it. He was a force to change the tides of battle upon the on battlefields, obliterating the ranks as an unstoppable force that tore the enemy ranks apart. Yet, it was never in an offensive action, but rather in the defense of the mortals he swore to protect, and did so with the fury of a winter storm. His wrath against the enemy was swift, and terrible, an avalanche which swept them away and buried them into their frozen tombs. But now he is locked in his one tomb, meditating upon the many ways to punish the one who had locked away him from his people. The one who betrayed them all, and lusted for her own power. The one who must experience what it was like to be away from one's sworn duty. Death would be too good an end for her. For despite his more fervent youth, in his old age Wu Dan has become enlightened to know that not all are deserving of death, life can be a punishment just as well, as demonstrated by the story of the peaches.
Years ago, a Death Monk who had killed hundreds, approached his master, challenging him to a duel to be granted the right to ascend the mountain to learn from the grandmaster. The master accepted, and the challenge was simple, for the master was old and tired of life. Letting the younger man take him easily within moments of the bout beginning. A flurry of blows, punches, kicks and grapples, before the final punch sent the master flying back against the temple wall, bloody ,bruised, and broken. Blessings were given to the risen student as he bowed his head in respect and died in peace. And upon the star pupil's visit with Wu Dan, he had plucked a golden peach from the hidden garden, amazed by the abundance of greenery and foliage, seduced by the charm of the shapely fruit. He ate the peach, and returned as the new master of his school. decades passed and the very same student was challenged by his own pupil, to which he had to accept just as his master did years ago. But this time, there was a different story. For you see, the peaches conferred immortality on those who would die upon it. And though the old master was vastly outdone by his challenger, the student would not let up for he could not finish it. To sit there and endure, every painful attack, to have your breath punched out of your lungs, your heart squeezed to spurt out blood from your arteries, and back broken such that each individual vertebrate fell into your gut and punctured your colon. The torment did not end, until the master crawled to the edge of the temple, and flung himself off the cliff in hopes of the fall splitting open his skull and rendering him comatose. Perhaps on a cold night, one can still hear the unfortunate master, still wishing he was dead, or perhaps it was merely his spirit as his bones were picked clean for meat by the creatures down below. How immortality drives one to madness and to embrace death.
In the earliest days, even among the tribes of men who did not know his name, few Children of Aton were invoked more than the Great Beast, Nod. When mankind, newborn and helpless, faced the immensity of the unknown, his was their courage. When mankind, soft and without weapons, were set upon by the predators of the land and air and sea, his was their strength. And when mankind, arrayed in vast armies, fell upon each other with the glory of war burning in their wild and chaotic hearts, his was their joy. If he is not the father of conflict than he is its most prolific author, finding no greater purpose or pleasure than the lustful heat of battle.
In all his aspects Nod appears as a gigantic white-furred humanoid lion, densely muscled, standing three meters tall and weighing more than four-hundred kilograms. His right eye is a brilliant, piercing blue, while his left is naught but a mass of scar tissue.
Despite his savage mien and nature, Nod is no berserker driven by a mindless, consuming rage. In truth, his spirit is more akin to a limitless ocean than a torrential rain. He is freedom and purity personified, beholden to no discipline, no creed, and no master but his own desire. To his bright eye there exist no shades of grey. He is self-assured. He is complete. He brooks no agenda, no secrets. He possesses nothing inside him that could be called doubt.
Given this mindset, Nod disdains magic and detests all manner of machinations. He views trickery and politics as the tools of vermin, fit only for cowards too weak to wage war, while those who face fate with courage will always find his favor. His mercy, on the other hand, is reserved for no one.
Nod is a warrior true and clear, a cyclone bound in flesh. Despite his sheer mass he moves as though he were weightless, every muscle a wellspring of energy and vitality. He is among the strongest and most imposing of Aton's Children, a juggernaut whose claws can punch through steel plate as easily as if it were a butterfly's wing, whose hide can withstand and recover from untold punishment. Though his own natural lethality and fighting prowess is already virtually unmatched, Nod also wields Magog, a massive double-headed axe that would require a team of draft horses to move, a single swing of which could cleave giants in half.
Owing more to his clarity of vision and razor sharp intuition than any supernatural gift, the gaze of Nod's right eye can unravel nigh any ruse, uncover nigh any deception. While the illusions and weavings of his more magically inclined brethren can be complicated enough to beguile him for a time, no sorcery, no falsehood or disguise can forever withstand his keen scrutiny.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Original tribe:
The Golgoth were among the earliest tribes of men, the first to settle in the dense jungles of present-day Xochimilia. They were also the first to know Nod, to turn to him for guidance. Under the aegis of the Great Beast the Golgoth flourished into the most renowned warriors in the South, fighters cloaked in the trappings and totems of wild animals, a sweeping horde whispered about in the same hushed and fearful tones as the Death Monks of the far northern mountains. The Golgoth were a people dedicated to the virtue of combat: every man, woman, and child a soldier for whom death at the hands of a worthy foe was the greatest possible fate.
This state of total war left them no architects or builders, no farmers or scholars. Instead, the Golgoth were regularly paid a tribute by the other tribes of the southlands, bribes of crops and livestock, slaves and raw materials, that their people may be spared and their cities left unrazed. But despite the viciousness of the Golgoth, they were not unduly cruel. They did not torture nor rape, and left unmolested the villages and settlements that had no warriors to defend them. They were not thugs or murderers or bandits - much like their patron the Golgoth lived solely to kill and die on the battlefield. In this manner they were as simple and uncomplicated as the Great Beast himself, a truly free people.
In the years following their warlord's captivity in the Pit, the Golgoth found themselves unable to last long against all their enemies. Grossly outnumbered and besieged by their rivals from all sides, but unwilling to compromise their ways of war, most of the Golgoth died as they had lived. Of the survivors, many lost their will to fight without the Unfettered's joy to stoke their spirits, and were assimilated by the Etruscans. The rest retreated back into the impenetrable canopy of the southern jungles, where their descendants still dwell today in disparate clans, patiently awaiting the return of the Relentless Storm to once more cover the world.
From the start, the Unfettered refused to take sides, knowing that to ally with any against another would only compromise his own pristine ethos to serve as no one's will but his own. This does not mean he was neutral: he gleefully brought his warriors to bear against any army that marched on him. For Nod, the War of Dawn was an endless source of battle and joy. However, he was still branded a Demon and in the end it took a unified effort from several of the strongest Angels - among them O-Dan, who was the Spirit of the Mountain and the only one among the Children whom Nod regarded as his equal - to defeat the Great Beast and cast him into the Pit.
Our people have one purpose. One reason. A single bride for whom we all dance.
War.
We are not given to tradition. We have no temples but the battlefield, no halls in which to commemorate our history. Our history are the wounds we gouge into this earth. We have no time or inclination for secrets or ceremony, save a very few. One of which is a tale we tell when a child makes their first kill and becomes a true blooded warrior of the Golgoth.
Have you your knife? Your helm? Have you the head of your foe?
Then I will tell you once, and only once, of how Nod the Unfettered, Father of Beasts, lost his eye.
Before the Great Beast delivered our people from the dark, he wandered the earth, a force of nature, as irresistible as a hurricane. Young as he was, he had but one desire: to test his strength and prowess to its limits. In this way, he traveled endlessly, seeking out and besting the most worthy of adversaries. He cut down any who stood against him, and in his naivete, despaired of ever finding one who could defeat him, even amongst the most skilled and doughty of his divine kin. This despair would last until the day he crossed into the desolate mountains of far Qayu, where he heard tales of a peerless fighter, a Child of Aton named O-dan, who is Wu the Grandmaster.
He sought out the venerated Grandmaster and initiated his challenge. Wu Dan, being an entity of discipline and contemplation, desired no needless battle and respectfully declined. Outraged at this rejection, the Great Beast, who in those days was feral and ill-tempered, descended upon and massacred hundreds of the northerners who claimed Wu Dan as their patron. At this affront to his personage and duty, the Spirit of the Mountain saw no recourse but to duel the Relentless Storm.
It is not known how long their battle atop the tallest mountain in the North lasted. Only that their blows shook the firmament. Only that the thunder and the lightning were born of their shouts. Only that their blood fell like rain.
Only that it finally ended when a lucky but precise blow from Wu Dan's prayer beads struck Nod's eye from his head, and Nod was cast off the mountaintop.
To this day, it is said that despite his vitality, the Great Beast Nod refuses to allow his eye to grow back. He keeps the scar as a reminder of his first defeat, a testament to the singularity of his vision, and only when O-Dan's corpse lies mauled and broken at his feet will Nod permit his eye to regenerate.
There. That is the story. You will not hear it again, and you will tell it only once, should you live long enough, when your time comes to initiate another child into the ranks of the Golgoth warbound.
Take your knife. Take your helm. Cast your foe's head into the fire. Your armor and spear await you. Glory awaits you.
Nod awaits you.
Fight by his side. Die by his side. Live forever at his side.
As a physically frail Child of Aton whose sphere of dominion is cunning and intrigue, the Godmother is everything Nod detests. Before the Pit, Nod would never have deigned himself to sully his claws with her coward's blood. But after spending over a millennia in that festering hole, there is nothing Nod would not sacrifice to feel her ribs crack between his teeth and wear her weathered hide for a hat.
A trickster. A prankster. A fickle and treacherous purveyor of japes and jest, of mockery and merriment. And he probably tastes awful, too.
Nod holds O-dan in the highest regard. Though their philosophies and temperaments are in diametric opposition, never has a single opponent given Nod such cause for joy in battle. He hungers for another encounter, one in which he might return the favor of removing the Grandmaster's eye from his head, as well as his head from his neck.
A scholar and a sorcerer. There would otherwise be nothing in Therelon to hold Nod's attention, but as the architect of the infernal prison that caged him for so long, Nod would have words with the pretty bird.
The death fetishist who is three-in-one, there is only one aspect of Tarthus which interests Nod. He would gladly welcome an opportunity to test his axe Magog against the black armor of the Warrior, and send him along the way to Mistress Death if he loves her so much.
A lion's legs, a lion's tail, but nothing of a lion's heart. Nod bears Chinasa no consideration one way or the other, but if the Pastel Lord employs any of his chromatic foolishness against Nod then the Great Beast will gladly tear off his tail and choke him with it.
An illusionist and manipulator. Not unlike Eyra. More plotters. More schemers. Perhaps the Kindly Man's bones will break just as prettily as the Godmother's will.
A minor if potent aspect of Aton. What she lacks in raw power she makes up for in courage and spirit. Nod has no want to do her harm, so long as she does not give him reason to. A shame. Were she stronger, she would likely prove a deserving foe.
Though Nod has idly wondered more than once if testing the cyclops' large size and brutish strength would provide some measure of a challenge, he ultimately has nothing but esteem for the smith's artistry, and recognizes that Kozz's purpose and place is by his forge, not the battlefield. It was Kozz, after all, who crafted Magog, Nod's legendary double-headed axe.
A shapeshifter who played both sides in the war, as malleable in their shape as in their conviction. For someone as stoic in vision and form as Nod, there can be nothing but contempt for the changeling.
Nod can appreciate the chaos Zhystkrexas sows in his wake, for war often follows, but the beguiler and bargainer can only offer Nod nothing, for Nod is already his idealized self. The Demon of Desire can make the world dance to his tune, true, but what Nod wants to know is, can he fight?
Dragons. Nod is largely unimpressed by dragons. For all their strength they never seem to know what to do with it. But their King is another matter entirely. A worthwhile diversion, for there are few things as satisfying as breaking a dragon's pride before breaking its back.
Nod has never directly faced this mother of monsters, but during his travels he has encountered quite a few of her abominations. He has always enjoyed these meetings, for Nefas' children of the deep more often than not taste like calamari, and are quite excellent when either consumed raw or roasted and paired with a spicy dipping sauce.
Over a millennia ago Nod had the pleasure and honor of battling the Titan during the early stages of the War of Dawn. It was a battle that threatened to answer the question of what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object. Though neither of them had as yet claimed a side in the war, the two giants' fight raged for weeks without stopping, the upper hand going back and forth between them, and it only ended in a stalemate when both were set upon by several demons who sought to take advantage of their discord. Their fight left unresolved, Nod hopes to one day resume their contest, and see if he has in fact finally found the one who is superior to him. He suspects that their next encounter will only end when one is feeding on the other.
Physical: Kozz’ form resembles most closely that of the cyclops in ancient Greek legend. With a browned leathery hide marked with immeasurable numbers of scorch marks and scars, a monstrous but remotely humanoid face and one great eye in the centre of his forehead. There is no risk of him winning a beauty contest, at any rate. His form is none-the-less impressively muscled by toil, standing at a great twelve feet in height, but prone to stooping at around 9-10 feet, he towers above man and beast alike. His hands resemble a humans and are surprisingly dexterous, but otherwise he is far removed from humanity with sharp protruding tusks and a gravelly voice.
Psychological: Kozz, despite the crudity of his form, is a master of craft. Though not a genius by any means, he has a practical knowledge of the world and a refreshing pragmatism that sets him apart from most of the children. He is reserved, blunt but otherwise mild mannered. Slow to anger, difficult to please, Kozz is a creature few would choose to speak with but those who take the time have rarely left with a poor opinion of him.
Powers: Other than the great strength and durability of his chosen form as a cyclops, Kozz’ only significant power comes from his ability to craft great weapons. Enchanted, legendary, many of the ‘relics’ and ‘mythical weapons’ that exist in the modern world came from his forge. The nature of his ability means that he can only craft a single item for a person, and his own artefact were gauntlets that made him near impervious to fire. Many have come, seeking some boon or item from him, most leave disappointed.
Original tribe: The Barun, mountain people of low stature but powerful build, drawn to the rock to excavate metal or stone. They found Kozz within the mountain, and overtime he accepted their gifts and bestowed upon them the knowledge of forging and smithing. The tribe grew famed for its iron and even its steel in the Dawn period, though rarely waging war themselves their materials were widely sought out. They lived a rough and ready lifestyle, but a happy one, surviving off the reputation of their weapons and armour in the same way some nations survive off feared mercenaries. They were too useful to invade. Unfortunately, Barun suffered at the end of the Dawn, when they sided with the Angels they became targets for the Demons. The tribe only barely survived the conflict, only to be eventually conquered in the ensuing years after Kozz was betrayed and imprisoned. It is said that the descendants of the Barun still exist, albeit as part of the republic, continuing their work into the present day. Some even credit them with the invention of firearms.
Faction: Angels
Anecdotes: Though Kozz was unwilling to pick a side in the war initially, his tribe chose to work alongside the Angels and he followed suit. They were the armourers of the Angels, and his legendary weapons were equipped by their heroes, only for him to be eventually sought out and betrayed as the war reached its end. Unlike many, Kozz did not resent the betrayal as much as one might expect, understanding its necessity. His actual issue is far more complex, and lies within the use of his knowledge in the world he returned to.
Kozz’s main influence in the old world was his forging of many of the legendary weapons and other artefacts that cover the land. Though many have been lost or destroyed over time, many others have fallen into the hands of heroes and villains, even other children. Those who have yet to have an item forged by him often seek him out, but many are refused on the grounds of his own peculiar morality. Though not the only one capable of creating such items, Kozz is reported to be one of the greatest, particularly in the sphere of blacksmithing.
Opinions
Eyra the Seer: Kozz does not hate Eyra, at least not for her betrayal of the Angels. He understands her reasons, even if they cost him dearly. What he cannot accept is his work being turned into rifle and cannon and slaughtering thousands. In his great forge the prototypes that eventually became the weapons of Eyra’s people lay, and he recognises them for what they are. It was not her right to make him a mass-murderer.
Kinion the fool: Kozz has no time for fools, as a pragmatic creature who sees the world in a simple but efficient manner, the subtleties of Kinion irritate him. It is uncertain if Kozz sees through the mask of madness to the danger within, but he certainly underestimates him.
Wu Dan: Kozz, as a pragmatist and an infinitely practical being, has less respect than he should for the spiritual and philosophical Wu Dan. That being said, he still has respect for his fighting spirit, which tends to balance things out to a neither positive nor negative opinion of the Mountain Spirit.
Therelon: Although Kozz is fond of seeking knowledge in his craft, he dislikes Therelon’s desire to obtain all knowledge, and his people’s claims to have been the first to craft steel irritate him. It’s uncertain who first came up with it, but considering Kozz’ place as the Forgemaster, one can make some assumptions. Regardless, they are at odds over Kozz’ unwillingness to part with certain knowledge out of his own sense of morality, and Therelon’s desire to obtain everything.
Tarthus: The God of Death has little to offer the world in terms of great crafts, in Kozz’ eyes. Though he hardly knows the creature, he has little time for it, and may even fear it for its abnormalities. It is said he once forged an arrow for Aylin designed to destroy part of Tarthus.
Chinasa the Pallid: Kozz sees something in Chinasa that perhaps it cannot see itself. When asked, he crafted for it a crown of its own, for he saw the role Chinasa could play. The King of the outcast, the abnormal, the scorned. Before the Betrayal Kozz admired Chinasa’s nobility, he hopes that one day the crown will remind Chinasa of what he was, and could be again.
Azoth: For obvious reasons, Kozz has little time for Azoth. A liar and a manipulator will always be at odds with a practical creature who lives for craft and toil.
Aylin the Huntress: Though they would be unlikely to truly get along, Aylin and Kozz share mannerisms as such that they would either become reluctant friends or amicable enemies. When asked, Kozz forged an arrow for Aylin that was like no other ever made. The fact that he did so speaks to an extent of his respect for her.
Ash: Ever changing and far too fickle for Kozz’ taste, though he neither likes nor dislikes the shapeshifter.
Nod: For the wild and unruly creature known as the Great Beast, Kozz found it suitable to bestow upon him a great axe. In truth, Kozz respected the beast’s freedom and simplicity, a warrior who lives but to meet each challenger. To such a creature only an axe that personified that ferocity and singularity of that purpose would be suitable. Though it could do good or evil, it would stay within the hands of one who would use it for great things. To Kozz, that was enough.
Zhystkrexas: Another monster, intent upon destruction, subversion and corruption. Even Kozz's pragmatic soul has felt the tug of insidious desire in the creature's presence, an unpleasant experience. The Forgemaster avoids it.
Kilgarrah: Warrior of a bygone age, with the fire of a dragon. Kozz and Kilgarrah would likely see eye to eye on many matters, though they have shared only scant interaction in the past.
Kalikmalo: Kozz knows little about him.
Nefas Sen: Haughty nature aside, Kozz ironically shares some of her sentiments. Kozz has no particular love for weapons of war and death, he creates because it is his purpose and he is devoted to his craft. Though he may craft the spear that pierces and the sword that cuts, he also crafts the shield that wards and the mail that protects. Perhaps one day Nefas will realise this, until then, they are at odds.
Estoil: Kozz, ultimately, is intricately linked with humanity. He is craft, toil, ingenuity and technology, human traits. Estoil exists in a world outside of humanity, and for that they will always be cut from different cloth.
Over the gate, under the door the Kindly Man crawls, over the floor
His Smile Wide, His teeth so bright In dreams he comes to us at night
Appearing darkly in our heads, Speaking secrets that we dread
Talons slide twixt skin and bone To drag us to his Kindly Home
- Common Etruscian children's rhyme, the singing of which is registered as a Class V Offense by the Senatorial Office for the Inculcation of Virtue and Piety in Republican Youth
Name:Azoth REDACTED by order of the First Censor
Aliases: PRISONER - 017, the Kindly Man, the King of Nowhere, the Faceless Wanderer, the Lying Prophet
Description:
Tales of the Kindly Man usually speak of a cowled magician in a dark cloak, though there are plenty of stories of him appearing as a great king clad in shining armor, or a wandering preacher in black vestments and broad-brimmed hat, or an itinerant alchemist in stained robes, or a powdered courtier in the company of a powerful lord, or a cackling jester in a mummer's troupe. In all of these stories he is a tall, thin man with a kindly smile and love of children, with dark hair and bright, captivating green eyes.
He is an agent of rebellion, change and destruction, one of the highest ranking and most dangerous of the Demons, appearing in a million guises throughout the War of Dawn within angelic societies to subvert them from within: founding secret cults of child sacrifice among a decadent aristocracy, inciting peasants to revolt and lay waste to the polity that held them in servitude, turning wizards and kings into necromancers and tyrants, priests into cruel zealots and the laity into secret worshipers of false gods. Where conviction is needful he plants doubt, when restraint is needed he urges action, where skepticism would be fruitful he encourages zealotry, when action is required he suggests indolence. He remains one of the prime enemies of humanity, seeking everywhere their enslavement and degeneration into feral mutants.
The first sign of his corrupting presence in a society is almost always widespread, vivid nightmares among children, among whom even now- millenia after his imprisonment- he is half remembered and half feared as a sort of boogeyman.
Powers:
The Kindly Man is a master of illusion, persuasion and deception, able to plant subconscious suggestions in even the strongest of minds with his mellifluous voice. Among weaker minds, he is able to command fanatical loyalty, and can easily control lesser demons, monsters, insects and vermin. His command of minor evil spirits makes him a potent sorcerer.
Original tribe:
Azothi, the Lost Tribe. Little is known about the original Azothi culture, save that they were nomads and raiders who worshiped their God-King Azoth and a cruel pantheon of demons and dark gods, practicing horrendous forms of human sacrifice. Over millennia, their proximity to dark magic and alien energies twisted them into degenerate mutants and beastmen who continue to this day to haunt the dark corners of the world and plague the Etruscian Republic. The fall of the Azothi into half-feral monsters took place well before the imprisonment of the demons, and Azoth their god spent many years alternatively instigating invasions of civilized lands by his mutant beastmen and working to weaken those civilizations from within.
Faction: Demons. The Kindly Man was one of the main organizers and instigators of the war against humanity and the Angels.
Opinions:
Eyra the Seer: Azoth does not underestimate the Seer, and fears her cunning and intelligence. He is one of her most determined foes, and eternally vengeful for the humiliating defeat of the demons. Wary of her power and eager for her downfall, he looks forward to overseeing the destruction of all that she has worked to build.
Kinion the Fool: An intriguing irritant.
Wu Dan: Extremely dangerous, one of Azoth's most capable foes. The Kindly Man treads lightly around the Grandmaster, seeking to undermine him indirectly.
Its heart is scholastic endeavor. Its hand is the twisting rites of the arcane. It is Therelon, Keeper of Knowledge and architect of the greatest enchantments the world has ever seen. Left alone to grand chamber at the top of its great Tower, save for the occasional visit by its Siblings or its Devoted, Therelon has long strived to unravel the secrets of the world. While interrupting it in the course of its study will draw its ire, it is not opposed to company by any means. Indeed, while it prefers to carry out its studies in complete solitude, it desperately craves companionship. When it addresses one of tis followers as “Child,” it does so not as a means of asserting its own superiority, but as a term of endearment; it sees those mortals who follow it as its Devoted Children. While it will not suffer those who would do harm to its Children to live, it does not grieve. Perhaps once the passing of those mortals it comes to care for might have caused it turmoil, but it has long since grown satisfied with holding fast to its precious memories.
Therelon, for all of its affection, does not look the part of a loving parent. While mannish in shape, it is covered in feathers that run the spectrum from dark blues to steely greys. Great wings, each two thirds as along as a man is tall, stretch from its back. Its fingers end in long, grey-blue claws, and its legs end in wicked, curves talons. Its head is crowned by a mane long feathers, stretching out over its neck. Beneath its mane rest, upon its long, sloping face, four eyes. The bottom two are always open, the top two are always closed. It all ends in the long, abruptly curved beak of a raven.
Powers
Therelon is, indisputably, a master of the arcane. What at first was a natural inclination and predilection has evolved over the centuries into an embodiment. Before it was bound in the Pit, those who lacked a proper understanding of what the Children of Aton were would often mistake Therelon for a god of magic. With those centuries has also come intelligence and guile—though he does pale in the latter compared to some of his Siblings, like Eyra and Kinion.
Though it may surprise some to look at it, Therelon’s physical power is not particularly great. Aside from its ability to fly, most any mortal could accomplish greater physical feats than it. It normally avoids close quarters confrontation, but can compensate in such situations. It knows how to use its magic to augment its physical ability, but doing so is immensely inefficient, and limits it to all but its most basic magic while bringing it nowhere near the physical ability of many of its siblings—though, well beyond what a single mortal could overcome.
Original tribe
Therelon’s tribe were the Malaki—a name long forgotten before the Wars of the Children had begun to simmer in the hearts of Aton’s brood. So long ago that the story belonged more to legend than history before the construction of the Pit, Therelon led its people out into the desert, and ordered that they build a great tower. The site it chose was the harshest and most violently hot, but Therelon had the grace to shield its followers from the heat and storms of dust with its magic.
But Therelon did not shield them from the hardship of labor. Mining, cutting, and laying the stone of the tower was backbreaking labor; many of the Makati were crushed under rock, and broken by exhaustion. When a generation had passed, and all was complete, Therelon raised its clawed hands, and, in a focused effort of magic and will, fused the stone of the tower into a unified whole. It proclaimed that the tower would henceforth be a place where all the knowledge of the world would be gathered, and its seekers would congregate. Therelon posed a choice to its followers: Leave the tower behind, leave your master, populate the world with the blessing and protection of the Keeper of Knowledge, but owe it no allegiance, or stay as stewards and protectors of the tower. Many chose to leave Therelon and its Tower behind, becoming the first to populate what is now the Koyatia Province, and their descendants still survive in some of those who live there now. Those who stayed were declared by Therelon were declared the Devoted.
Ever since, it is the Devoted who have been Therelon’s people. So long as they persist, they are granted arcane power by a complex enchantment weaved by Therelon, drawing power from the very ground beneath the tower. Some would catalogue and organize the tomes and scrolls within the tower, others would stand ready to defend the tower should some force come to take or destroy what was held there, and others still would go out into the world to seek new tomes and new knowledge.
So it was for countless years. Peoples from across the world would make the journey through the forbidding wasteland to the Tower—which was, Therelon is known to have said, a test of intelligence and perseverance—and the Tower would receive and teach all those who came to learn win peace, repelling those who did not, and occasionally welcoming a new scholar into the ranks of the Devoted, and occasionally bidding farewell to those that did not find the life of the Devoted fulfilling. Things changed for them when Therelon was sealed away in the Pit.
With their master lost to them, the Devoted were consumed by sorrow, terror, and rage. Many voices called for them to wage war—to bring their arcane might against the Etruscan army with the fury of their grief. Some did. But by-and-large, the Devoted remained true to the duties given to them by their Master.
Their numbers dwindled over the centuries—some abandoned their duty and fled into the desert, some were lost to diseases that Therelon had protected them from, and some simply did not have children. At last, eight hundred years after Eyra’s betrayal, the Etruscan army came to the Tower. Many had thought them and their power to be boogeymen, made up to scare children into obeying their parents. Others had thought that their power had faded with the loss of their master, or with the passing of time. They were wrong; the Devoted fought with the fury of a forgotten era. Not since the Wars of the Children had magic been wielded on the field of battle, and while the Devoted could not compare to a member of Aton’s brood, they wielded their power with violence and rage, and accomplished together what so single caster could hope to. Great winds that raised up the sand to scour their enemies away. Blasts of heat that cooked armored soldiers alive. Boulders flung into the air and shattered with magic, to rain down great shards upon the besieging army. When the enemy managed to breech their defenses, they would push them back with arms and armor that had been woven with enchantments to allow them to overcome advantages of strength and number held by the enemy. It would have been enough to crush the morale of any invader.
Except the Etruscans weren’t just any invaders. They had come under the orders of their Godmother. They fought at the behest of divine will. Scores of scores of them died before the magic might of the Devoted, but still they pressed on. In time, their numbers won out. The defenders at the foot of the Tower were overrun. The Etruscan army poured up and around the great Tower, slaughtering the Devoted. There have always been rumors that some of them escaped, as one would expect, but none can deny that the bloodbath that day was ruthless. When the killing was finished, the taking began. Every book, every scroll, every enchanted relic, every single thing of remote value not part of the stone of the Tower was taken by the Etruscans. Eyra had them take it all, and she locked it away in her great vault.
And so the Devoted vanished from the world. People still tell tales of them. The Etruscans of the vile practitioners of the darkest arts, sacrificing babes and virgins to their cruel, avian god. Those who revile the Etruscans of great and terrible sorcerers who nearly bled the Etruscans dry, before being overrun in their valiant fight. Others still say that they are a fabrication; that they are old wives’ tales and best left to fade before the ages.
And in Koyatia stands a tower of stone. Untouched by time, undamaged by wind and sand. Waiting for its Master to once more come to roost, and bring knowledge and power to its Devoted Children.
Faction
Once the Tower had been established, Therelon had a very hands-off leadership of his Devoted; it largely left its flowers to carry out their duties in the fashion they determined, but would give advice if they asked and aid also only if they asked—and if it deemed the situation in need of its intervention. Its views on nations of mortals was similar: it left them to their own devices, but was willing to offer aid and aid if asked for—but as they were not its devoted, it would demand some price to do so. This put Therelon not quite in either camp, and it decided on the outset to be neutral, and allow both sides access to its archives.
However, it did not last. The time eventually came when Therelon was forced to choose a side. After careful consideration, it decided that the Angels were more in-line with its philosophy than the Demons, and so sided with them.
Anecdotes
Even after joining the Angels, Therelon allowed access to the Tower’s trove of knowledge to remain freely accessible to all. Ultimately it was a matter of principle: knowledge should not be restricted. Besides, if there was any tsctically or strategically important information inside, then the Demons would have made copies of their own long ago.
As the most magically inclined of the Children of Aton, Therelon was the one its fellow angels turned to design and build the Pit. It took some effort to do, but Therelon was eventually convinced to go along with the plan. It stung all the more for this when Eyra betrayed her fellow Angels, and bound them within the Pit.
A legend from the southern reaches of the world that says the first person to successfully forge a sword out of steel was one of Therelon’s Devoted. To honor their Master, they named the blade the Great Feather, as a reference to the color of Therelon’s wings. It is said that Therelon itself wove powerful enchantments through the blade, and that, in the hands of one of the Devoted, it could cut down all but the most skilled blademasters, but was an unwieldy hunk of metal in any other hands. It cut swathes through the ranks of the Etruscans when thay laid siege to the great Tower, but was lost to them when the Tower fell.
Opinions
Once, Therelon had a certain fondness for Eyra. Her ability came foremost from her mind, something which Therelon, scholar above all else, respected tremendously. But that has changed. She betrayed its trust, bound it in its own creation, and slaughtered its followers. Eyra is the first creature in all of Therelon’s long life to earn its hatred.
Therelon does not dislike Kinion. While Kinion’s antics could be grating at times, it found a great many stories of Kinion’s antics amusing, and saw that there hidden purpose in his every action—though as to what it was, he could not say. It opposed Kinion’s imprisonment in the Pit, and spoke out against it even as Kinion was being bound, but ultimately did nothing to stop it..
Therelon believes that Nod's bloodshed has its place—as far away from its Tower as possible. That said, Therelon doesn't have anything against Nod personally, but it likes its Devoted alive and its books undamaged.
This one killed one of Therelon's Devoted. While said Devoted was overstepping its bounds, it was still one of the Devoted. Chinasa has drawn Therelon's ire. Once Eyra is dealt with, Therelon may seek to settle matters between them.
Tarthus, to Therelon's understanding, lacks a personage of its own. While its understanding of the matter may be flawed, Tarthus exists to serve a purpose, and is wholly dedicated to that purpose. While that is respectable in its own right, the absence of any other defining characteristics make Tarthus difficult to actually like.
Perhaps unsurprisingly, Therelon does not trust, nor particularly like, Azoth. Even after Therelon chose to side with the Angels, the Devoted were small enough, and confined enough to a single space—the Tower—that Therelon was always able stand watch against this particular sibling. As such, Azoth has not done anything to trult inspire anger in it.
Kozz's raw mastery of metal is well known. His ability to create, even if it is creating weapons of war, with such immaculate skill is something that Therelon respects deeply.
Ash defies understanding. This does not sit well with Therelon. Therelon prefers to be able to comprehend the people and things around it, but Ash, it would seem, is ever shifting, lacking any sort of pattern or singular guiding motivation. While Therelon would like to understand, it takes a position of neutrality in regards to Ash at this time.
Hunting does not particularly appeal to Therelon, and it has been made to understand that she is much too dour. However, as one of its Kin, and as one possessing tremendous skill, it considers her worthy of respect.
Chinasa the Pallid / The Pastel Lord / The Horror of Beyza
I'am the pale shadow in your darkness,
Your unknown savior, your guiding messiah.
Estranged though I'am,
Thy will bury me in the pit,
A mystery to your frightful heart I must be.
Let me inquire, are you certain?
You will know once you see my face,
The reason for your ugly decay.
I'am fear and hope, contradiction in form.
A betrayer of betrayers.
A child of Aton
- Scarred words written on the final Pallid Child.
Description
To look on his face was to know white. To pale in comparison in all meanings of the word. The Pastel Lord was beauteous and immaculate in the eyes of the lesser. He was an angel with creeds, beliefs that drove his followers to worship him. The porcelain skin that veiled him was smooth, flawless, though without true material structure, his muscles were inhumanly lean and solid. Especially so considering he had four arms. Furless lion legs veiled with holy crimson garbs held him upright, a bare powerful tail laid its end on the ground. Chinasa was the stuff of legends and myths, though he was no taller than any other man, he loomed over all with his greatness.
Once guided by his principles and preternatural understanding of human kin, Chinasa was a victim of Eyra’s betrayal. His honorable ways were twisted, distorted and he became grim in the face of his peers. Though he sensed it long before it came, he was foolishly devoted to the People of Beyza. He vowed never to put such faith into a singular thing again, be that being or object. He was one of the first, with ire akin to molten lava and rage compared to the greatest of the children, to break his chains.
Powers
Chinasa has the power to “pale” anything in existence. To lighten its color till it is a ghostly form of white. This in turns weakens them comparatively, the closer to white they are the less they are weakened. He can also store the colors to be use in tandem with his staff and pseudo-crown. These colors can be used in malleable creations and kinetic energy. Along with these abilities are the preternatural physicality that comes with his abnormal form. His legs are his most powerful weapons, though his upper strength can be accurately compared to being five fold that of the average man.
Original Tribe
The Albino stumbled onto the immaculate, crossing paths to create clan of true white. It begun with a clan of three traveling in disdain and fear. They fell to their knees and wept, for they had never seen such beauty in the form of white. They, with the Pastel Lord in tow, returned to their tribe at the foot of one the mountains of Qayu. The name of their tribe us lost to the sands of time but Chinasa remembers finding their arguably variable tribe complex. The Albino family which he named during his trek, the people of Beyza, pleaded for him to destroy the former. He did so without a word. When survivors begged him to spare them… he did so without a word. And when they all began to worship him… he accepted them with but a singule gesture: a slow raise of the back of his hand.
The Clan of Beyza would go on to lose all color to their natural skin, turning pale and ghostly. They would paint their bodies with indiscriminate black markings and once every decade offer a child for the Pastel Lord to carve his words into. The cadavers of the children never decayed, like marble statues they would stand the tests of time on the peaks of Beyza territory. They are usually depicted in forms of praise… all except one who was brutally crucified. The people of Beyza was annihilated due to their zealous devotion to their God of All: Chinasa. Their spectral skin became a sort of prize to the wealthy.
Faction
He sided with the angels out of obligation to his people. Though refrained from interacting with them, save only the most important of gatherings. When the end of the war came and Eyra’s calling was made, Chinasa, playing his role and feeling uneasy, made a final Child of Pallid to bear his words. After his millennia in the Pit, he had been convinced that Angels were far more dangerous than Demons.
Anecdotes
Human legends speaks of Chinasa as a winter demon, though his people recalls the merciful God that spared their mistaken kin and made all in his image to both bless and punish them. His Pallid Children are also warnings about the evil in humanity and the hope that lurks in every heart. Though largely argued, a tale of Chinasa turning the territory of Beyza white are frozen in history.
Opinions
Betrayer of betrayers. She will pay for what she did to me. Her mind is no match for Chinasa the Pallid..
Who? O Kinion… the trickster. He is of no consequence to me but he makes feel queasy... as If I'm staring at a problem. A endless one.
That man… I openly despise him. He occupied the same area as me and I feared for my underwhelmed clan to challenge him. Instead I laid in obscurity on the other side, behind the billows of his banner. I resided on a lower peak, one whiter than the rest. One hidden behind his shadow.
Word of the heretical wise-bird made its way to my mountain once. I was mildly surprised. I visited his tower. Killed one of his devoted for barring me access too. Therelon… I wonder how he felt about that whenever I'm creating a Pallid Child.
He is not someone I enjoy. The way he encourages death bothers me. And I even heard from one of my followers that their child was guided away by another… one whose cloak was pure black. I will tolerate his incessant need for death. But touch my clan again and I will make him whiter than snow.
A fitting name I suppose. Though, I don't think I've met her in person. I hear soft whispers about her from time to time but that is all. I heard she's beautiful too, makes me wonder why she hides in the darkness so much.
Ash... I've never seen its true face. I'am much too young for that. I heard it was actually a she in reality. Though that was from a fleeting conversation with Kinion's clan... I think it was Kinion clan. They were awfully entertaining.
I owe him my crown. But that is all I owe him. Still it is enough for me consider him an ally... a friend in this unforgiving children's game. I know its his duty and one he performs with extreme care but its admirable to see such dedication. I asked for a item befitting of my abilities, one to make me as strong as possible. He presented me the Achromatic Crown. It has given me great strength.
I'm much too naïve to speak of Nod. I won't pretend to be able to defeat him, I've heard legends of him, bloody tales all of them. But I will not shy from him either. If Nod ever challenges me, he will find out that brute strength is but a single form of victory. Not its entirety.
Recluse as he is, he is the greatest sin walking the earth. He tricks like Kinion and has an obsession on par with Tathrus. If I ever meet him, I will put an end to him. I see the danger that he wields, I see the potential calamity that he is. He is the devil in our dreams and I will cleanse him white to ensure that pale never becomes nothingness.
A dragon in every right. He is amongst those that I wish to overcome.... What? Do I not look to be a challenger? Wan Du, Therelon, Nod, Kilgarrah; all of these Children are those that consider me weak. I'am a King, a God, a Lord. I can have no one looking down on me for one reason or another. I'm the middle ground. Kozz has given me strength and power beyond the physical and magical. I can beat them. When I think of Kilgarrah I think of fighting.
I've have never met him... though his name brings shivers to my heart. I don't think I'd enjoy his company. Not even a little.
Don't play with the child, don't listen to the old woman, don't test the warrior. - Old Proverb ________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Description Death has many faces. The child that is Tarthus embodies that. He bears three faces, the Old woman, the Warrior and the child. Each representing an aspect of death. Tarthus can take these three forms at will, appearing as an old, fragile woman, an Warrior in Black Armor or an small, playful little child. He is not a spirit of death as much as an enforcer, seeing it as a higher duty to remind mortals of their mortality. The Warrior may appear in front of you, challenging you. The violent death. The child will play with you till you wake up in the afterlife. The untimely death. And when the old woman comes you will have already accepted your fate. The peaceful death.
In his true form he is an being, the size of two man, towering over mere mortals in his black cloak with skeletal fingers and three faces silently staring down at them. ________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Powers Tarthus can change his form at will, only in very rare cases he shows his true form to mortals however. Apart from that he has a wide variety of powers. In his warrior form he is an exceptional fighter, who only the best mortal soldiers and knights can best. The other two forms don't really have special abilities. In all forms Tarthus can seemingly appear out of nowhere, just like death. He is incredibly hard to kill and it is said that a man nearly died of fear when he bashed the skull of an old woman, only to see her still walking. Tarhus is also known to reincarnate incredibly fast. If it comes to real immortal combat, Tarthus can unleash his true power and fight his enemy's with powerful spells of death and decay. His three faces also each see something different. The old woman, in her nostalgia only sees the past, while the warrior who only lives for the moment sees only the present, the child in his youthful naivety only looks into the future. ________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Original tribe The Nizek, a small tribe in the swamps of Xochimilia worshiped Tarthus as their God of Death. He was not really their Leader, more a religious figure. While the tribe never conquered much, they build one of the first great city's, Taxu. Taxu remains to this day, an incredibly old city, with a rich history. Although it is poor, having not many resources and almost no trade going on its inhabitants pride themselves on their heritage. While they are officially a part of the empire, the city is practically free. ________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Faction Tarthus was on the side of the Demons, wanting too keep his role. But he never wanted to destroy humanity. If humanity would be gone, who would still die? ________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Anecdotes There once was a man. When he was still young a small boy appeared before him. "Come with me.", said the small boy. But the man did not want to go. He offered the small boy the life of his just born brother. "Take him, play with him. It is not my time." And the small boy was kind and accepted and left. When the man was older he went to war. After a battle a warrior in black armor appeared before him. "Come with me.", said the warrior. But the man did not want to go. He challenged the warrior. "If I win leave me and take my soldiers. It is not my time." And the warrior was honorable and accepted and lost and left. When the man was old an old woman appeared before him. "Come with me.", said the old woman. But the man did not want to go. He offered the woman hospitality instead, giving her food and wine. "Eat my food, sleep in my bed, drink my wine but then leave. It is not my time." And the old woman was merciful and accepted the offer and left. When the man was even older looking at his children and his farm a three faced Lord appeared. "Come with me." But the man did not want to go. He offered the Lord everything he had. "Take my children, take my riches, take everything I own but then leave. It is not my time." But the child was ruthless. But the warrior was cold-blooded. But the old woman was dutiful.
"It is your time." ________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Opinions
Intelligence and wisdom but such a wrong goal. Why protect those who are destined to die? And all these years in the pit...
Only a smart man plays the fool. You can't fool death.
His hands and voice delivered more death than those of any mortal. If he would only unleash them more often.
Knowledge is a noble goal. And Magic a powerful tool.
The Warrior respects him. The Old Woman and Child fear him. Tarthus respects the death he brings.
Life is fragile and short. His creations are everlasting.
Wherever the Kindly Man walks Chaos follows. Wherever there is chaos death follows.
When color leaves men when they are dead it is a thing of beauty. When color leaves men while they are alive it is a abomination.
An Arrow is a instrument of death. How can this Archer then be reluctant with it?
With all your faces how can you not see what I see? And how can their still be something left of you?
Corruption brings death. But I despise the deals you offer. How often have you helped people escape me?
Their is nothing to gain in taming beasts. The ones who died trying did the right thing.
Aylin the Huntress / Aylin the Watcher / Aylin of the Moon
Description
Silent would be the first word use to describe Aylin. She is a quiet watcher of the night, she tends to keep her distance and interferes from afar. She is not the social type and minimises interaction with both mortals and immortals alike. She follows her own set of rules, and her own code, and feels that she has not need to answer to anyone else. Alliances are not something Aylin tends to have in mind - though she would prefer for the world to continue to prosper as it is than to be razed to the ground. Aylin is a calm soul, rarely one to anger, who keeps herself out of petty squabbles between other immortals. She will watch, and sometimes judge, but is rarely one to participate when she does not feel it is necessary.
When Aylin does talk, a more rare occasion than you would think for someone who has lived for long, it is lacking in diplomacy. That is far from a strong side for her - and often her words can be harsh, and blunt. Unlike many she does attempt to be truthful where possible.
Aylin is a young woman (at least in appearance), with a slender form. Her eyes and hair are dark, brown, and her skin tone a soft tanned colour. It is clear from her appearance that she is an immortal who favours time within nature over that of helping a civilisation. Her face is often covered by a hood, her clothing practical and made of leather or whatever would be readily available. A bow is never far from her side. Her face often holds a cold, and calm, look to it - hardly welcoming. She rarely smiles.
Powers
Aylin's powers are far from the most powerful among the children. As would be expected of a huntress they focus around her use of a bow. Even as technology develops it is unlike Aylin would swap this for anything more advanced. She has an uncanny accuracy, almost always able to find her target even in the most difficult of situations. She has the handy ability of not using real, physical arrows - rather ones magically made and thus never runs out of them. She can imbue arrows with minor magical effects; putting mortals to sleep, poisoning them slightly and similar. Nothing major - her abilities are more mundane. On top of her abilities with a bow comes an uncanny agility; she is unnaturally acrobatic and fast allowing her to get to places most others would not. She has good balance allowing her to access and stay at the highest point of an area.
The other part of Aylin's powers are more related to watching, and the night. Aylin is stronger under the moonlight at night - her ability with a bow is only better, she is only faster and more agile. She can see perfectly in low light, such as that of the moon and stars. Her vision is better than most even in daylight - she can see unnaturally far and sharply. Her sense of hearing is also heightened something, but not much beyond that. Along with her ability to watch comes a connection to nature - it is the domain she has chosen to watch over within the night, and sometimes to protect if she deems it necessary. This connection is hardly magical by any means. Her strongest connection is with animals - the bond of the hunter and the hunted.
Original Tribe
Aylin's original tribe were the Narin. They were an isolated tribe of hunter-gatherers who lived of the land as best as they could. They live peacefully with the nature around them, only killing what they had to for food and clothing. They kept themselves away from other tribes and prospered under Aylin's watchful gaze. While they did not move about they hardly had what you could call cities - more a few small towns. They had small numbers due to not having many children over time and in general having their population limited. Somewhat backwards technology wise. Since Aylin disappeared they were essentially wiped out by more natural causes - disease and larger animals, and a lack of children leaving a dying population easily finished off by other mortals.
Faction
Though originally independent, Aylin ended up joining the Angels a short while into the war.
Anecdotes
There are few tales told of Aylin during the dawn times - as she was rarely seen by others. There are tales of people who died to an arrow shot out of nowhere for unknown reasons (often related to ruining their environment or unbalancing nature), however they are few and far between. However there is very little to talk about when her main role was watching.
She did participate in the war between Angels and Demons. Her role was not a pivotal one and she did push or lead the Angels. Though an often forgotten role Aylin acted as a scout of sorts, using her unnatural sight and hearing to spy on the Demons and her speed to get out of tight situations. She did also participate in the battles that ensued - but always shooting from afar. So she did make herself of use as an angel, but the war would have functioned without her.
Opinions
Eyra the Seer Aylin's opinion of Eyra was once neutral - though there were on the same side during the war between Angels and Demons, and Aylin's reports often went to Eyra, interaction was minimal. She respected her and the tactics she came up with. However that opinion has changed to be more negative after imprisonment. Aylin was stopped from doing that one thing she always did, watching, and in the time she was imprisoned the world has changed in a way she didn't like - all due to Eyra. This means she dislikes the Seer but it would not push her towards starting any fights with Eyra.
Kinion the Fool Even in thousands of years Aylin is unsure what to think of Kinion. He is beyond her understanding, unwatchable. However she is not one to immediately dislike what she does not understand. While she doesn't approve of his chaos creation her opinion of him, overall, isn't necessarily negative.
Wu Dan Aylin's opinion of Wu Dan is overall positive, and her thoughts on him those of respect. There are ways in which they are similar - both content with watching. However she does also fear the power he has, which is strong, and would not like to get on the wrong side of him. Though she has a good opinion of him she would still endeavour to avoid him.
Therelon, Keeper of Knowledge Aylin has respect for Therelon, as he holds more knowledge than she could ever imagine. However they have not particularly crossed paths - they differ in many ways. Her opinion is just that of respect, and nothing more. She doubts they would get on if they met.
Tarthus He is one that Aylin wishes to avoid. Like all she would prefer not to die. She has, overall, a negative view on him. To him everything seems to be death. It is not something she can understand or agree with. She has watched him, a few times, but has avoided ever speaking with him.
Chinasa the Pallid Aylin has heard of Chinasa, of course - they were both Angels. She has never had the pleasure of talking to him. Though she has seen him, as she has seen many (even if they have never seen her; that is how it tends to go). She once respected the principles he followed; now she is not so sure. He is one to watch, that much is certain.
Azoth A being of destruction, Aylin dislikes and avoids him. He is more powerful than her, as many are, and she has a low opinion of him. She does not understand why one would want to cause so much destruction. It unsettles the natural order of things.
Nod, the Great Beast Aylin has respect for the Great Beast. However she believes he is too simplistic in his goals and too focused on fighting and war. While she does not have much issue with war she believes too much of it is not a good thing. However she would never openly say this to Nod. She avoids him, as she does most people.
Kozz the Forgemaster At the moment Aylin holds Kozz in respect. While her contact with him has been minimal she did once ask him to make her an arrow, one which could pierce through anything (as the ones she used herself were limited as normal arrows were). His craftmanship is fine and she is grateful for the arrow he bestowed on her. She doesn't find him as irritating as some of the other children.
Zhystkrexas the Corruptor Aylin has, thankfully, never spoken to Zhystkrexas. He is someone that she endeavours to avoid. Her opinion of him would be most aptly described as disgust - he controls and twists mortals desires. That is not something she approves of. She tries to avoid even watching him, just in case he should manage to influence her.
Kilgarrah Aylin finds the morals Kilgarrah goes by respectable, and has a slightly positive view of him due to this. However she doubts that they would get along well if they interacted more, as there are major differences from the two. Still from what she has seen he is one worthy of respect.
Ash, the Changing Aylin dislikes Ash for multiple reasons. Their ever changing face makes it difficult for her to pin them down if she wished to keep an eye on them. They are difficult to find and target. Along with this she finds their changes in personality off putting. There is little for her to like about him.
Kalikmalo Bramah Thalmen They fought on the same side during the Dawn War, but Aylin is unsure what exactly to think of Kalikmalo. As she rarely spends time with any of the other children she has little understanding of him; there is only so much she can learn through observing others. For now she retains a neutral opinion.
Nefas Sen Aylin does not have any direct problem with Nefas; though she dislikes the power that the other child holds it seems that any that join the Deep join willingly. As such Aylin's opinion of Nefas is mostly neutral. There has not been enough interaction for it to be more than that.
Ash the Changing / The God of Many Faces / The God of Many Names
Current Name: Aislin the Young
Some of Ash's more notable other names / faces.
Natural Form - Ash the Changing
Ashni the Adaptable / Ashni the Assassin - Form on the side of the Demons
Alister the Defender - Form on the side of the Angels
Description
Ash's outward personality is difficult to pin down, an every changing thing that switches with the face and name that they hold. Currently Ash seems to be more a good person, somewhat innocent and naive and kind nature. They care for mortals, it seems, and wishes to protect them. They act childish but surprisingly diplomatic for the age that they appear to be. They are not looking for confrontation with any of the other children.
Ash's actual personality is an enigma even to themselves. They are incredibly changeable, with a mood that moves between good and bad at any moment. They are, overall, out for themselves. How inclined towards good and evil they are often depends upon the face they are wearing - as a person they are in more of a moral grey area. Ash has no qualms about committing bad deeds however does not go out of their way to do it. They do try to preserve themselves and do try to be diplomatic. However they're ultimate goal is true freedom which they achieve through becoming so many people. They want to experience everything to the fullest, to have every opinion they possibly can. They are willing to change with the times and as a result unlikely to hold onto old tribes or times. This means that they can be fickle, however, and may change their opinion of someone at any given moment.
Ash's appearance does, of course, change. As a shapeshifter they can take whatever form they desire. They do have a natural form, however, one which they have not been in a very long time. This is of an average male mortal. There is nothing spectacular about that form. It is plain, ordinary looking. However Ash prefers to not stay in this form. His hair is dirty blond, curly, his skin fair and his eyes a light blue.
The current form that Ash is most often in is that of a young girl, going by the name Aislin. They are short with slightly olive coloured skin. They're have shortly cut, dark brown hair and eyes that are almost black. The clothing they wear is often colourful and practical. They are almost always smiling, a cheerful and childish smile. However it is obvious they are older than they look.
Powers
Ash's main power is of shapeshifting. They can change their body to any humanoid shape they wish - and are not restricted to a specific gender. This includes mythical humanoid creatures, such as elves. These humanoid shapes could be slightly different from the normal - for example a humanoid with wings, like an angel. They can also take on forms that are not humanoid, such as animals and other mythical creatures. However they can only take on these forms for a restricted period of time - that amount of time changing with how powerful they are. They can change form as much as they want, however - and often will. Changing takes time dependant on how much is being changed.
With shapeshifting comes an uncanny ability to blend in and change. Ash can easily pretend to be others or adopt new personas. With this comes a more magical ability of copying - they can, to a small degree, copy others through watching.
Along with this Ash's changing nature also helps create change in others and that around them. They can, through contact and magically, cause a change in mortals. This is often a small thing - for example they could cause someone to get smarter, learn how to do something or become stronger.
Original Tribe
Ash's original tribe, the Shari, were a small group of people who revered them above all and believed in the every changing nature of the world and people. They were mostly nomadic, moving around with circumstances. If the fields where they lived grew infertile they would up and move. This was similar for any kinds of disasters that occurred. Individuals often broke off and joined other nations - often adopting the culture there though retaining their belief in their god. They also changed as their god did. After Ash was imprisoned they peacefully joined the republic; essentially blending in with the nations that were already part of it.
Faction
Both, but mostly demons. As a shapeshifter Ash used different forms for both sides but in the end stuck with just the demons and got imprisoned as one.
Anecdotes
Ash's role in the war at the Dawn was an interesting one. Their ability to take different forms meant they could participate on both sides. Ash, overall, agreed with the Demons; after all it would cause change and that was the one thing they always wanted. They're main alliance was to Demons and they acted as a infiltrator at points but also on the battlefield.
On the side of the angels, as Alister, Ash was more combat oriented. They didn't make a particularly great contribution though. It was eventually found out exactly who they were and as a result in the end they were imprisoned along with all of the demons.
There are many legends about Ash, however very few are about them as Ash the Changing. Legends on them are difficult to track down as they can be about any of the names and forms he has taken over his time during the dawn. None are particularly outstanding.
Opinions
Eyra the Seer Ash dislikes Eyra. For them the ability to change and watch change, and to be free to do whatever and be whoever they wished, was crucial. Eyra was the one that locked them away and Ash will see that they pay for it one day.
Kinion the Fool Ash finds Kinion interesting. Though he acts the fool Ash knows there is more to him than that. He often causes change... And Ash has respect for that. They have similarities.
Wu Dan Ash fears Wu Dan and the power he holds. He would rather not get on the wrong side of this immortal as he knows it would only end badly for Ash. They try to avoid Wu Dan were possible.
Nod, the Great Beast Massive differences have led to Ash having a dislike for Nod. Though they do not wish to meet him in combat, as they would undoubtedly lose, they hold contempt for a creature so stuck in his ways that he does not accept the change Ash brings.
Kozz the Forgemaster Kozz is of no interest to Ash - as while Ash can fight, they do not seek one particular weapon. That would be far to stable for them. Their opinion is neutral, however, due to a lack of interaction.
Azoth A being of chaos and change, Ash's opinion of Azoth is mixed. They enjoy the change Azoth brings and thrive in that kind of environment. However there are occasions, when Ash's personality swings more towards good, that they disapprove of the way that Azoth does things.
Therelon, Keeper of Knowledge Knowledge is of no interest to Ash. For them they have all the knowledge they need; that of people, and being different people. They can get this just from watching. As a result they feel that Therelon's job is redundant. They wouldn't say that to Therelon's face however. They keep a mostly neutral opinion.
Chinasa the Pallid Ash knows that they would be unlikely to get along with Chinasa. They also know he is more powerful than them. Ash did not particularly understand him during Dawn, and he doubts he will during Dusk either.
Tarthus, the Three Faced Lord Tarthus can change his form at will, similar to Ash. However that is were the similarities end. Ash disapproves of Tarthus' focus on death. Why only focus on one thing, something that will never change. Death is always the same. Ash doesn't like things that are always the same.
Zhystkrexas the Corrupter Ash feels uneasy around Zhystkrexas; unusual for the shapeshifter can often force themselves to feel comfortable around anyone dependant on their form. The way Zhystkrexas takes people desires and twists them makes Ash feel uncomfortable. However aside from that he hasn't formed a strong opinion about the corrupter.
The Dragon King Kilgarrah Ash believes that Kilgarrah is too stuck in his ways and his morals. The Dragon King is far too honourable for Ash's liking. He knows that they will never get on. They can tell the Kilgarrah despises them and isn't in a rush to change that opinion.
Kalikmalo Bramah Thalmen Ash dislikes Kalikmalo, and avoids him were possible. They find his cannibalism distasteful to say the least and would rather not end up being eaten. However they would never directly contest Kalikmalo and rather goes to lengths to avoid him, to preserve their own skin.
Nefas Sen Ash has figured out Nefas hatred for them due to their role in the war, and meets it with a dislike of their own. Anyone who dislikes their changing nature to such a degree will only earn his hate right back. Ash is quite happy to toy with Nefas', and is not above using their changing shape to destroy the deep she is so attached to.
What is it you desire most? Your deepest wishes, pulled from your wildest dream, harvested from your innermost secrets. The innocent fantasies you play with in the back of your mind, in the pit of your heart, the very nature of your soul. That which gnaws at you, your unsated want, a need restrained by reasoning, modesty, virtue. Like a caged beast, you drool hungrily at your temptations, but barely lick your lips when given but a taste of it when in a drought and famine. Now culminate all those years of unrequited starving. That is Zhystkrexas.
Zhystkrexas, the corrupting influence of it all, that which dwells with the deepest reaches of the mind. Patient, devious, and cunning, an immortal who uses immortality best of all to sow the seeds of his grand design for the harvest. How many seasons shall he wait until his bounty becomes full and rich? But starve yourself completely waiting for the harvest to come? Why not feast on the spoils of another? Oh yes reap what is yours, but also devour the yields of others. let them savour their small victories, their piecemeal battles, let them dine upon their riches and let their praises be pleasing to their ears. Let all their plans align and designs unfold to their whim, but in the end it matters not. For when the crops are ready to be harvested, the locusts shall come to eat it all. And so this is why perhaps of all the children, Zhystkrexas is most despised, for he leeches off the work of others, and dares to manipulate even the spawn as he would mortals.
He appears to those who are unaware of the true nature of the beast as a living idol. A perfect human being as they believe it, often seeing him as a man befitting the role of a chief of the desert tribes. The aspects they value most exemplified within him, a paragon of their own hopes and dreams to what they desire to be. For it is not his power to change himself, no rather it is his power to change how others see him. Dressed in finery of gold with a body of a worthy of worship, regally moving with the power and awe, the splendor of a true god-king to be envied and admired.
But to those who wish to see him for what desire truly is, for those who desire truth, they shall see him for what he is. A smiling devil with twisting horns which flowed like hair around him. Sharp teeth and fangs, a gaunt face like a skull and hollow eyes with which he eats your very being. Though dressed in his robes and finery, he is nothing more but a skeletal terror as his ribs are visible against his open robe. That is the true nature of desire. The insatiable hunger that consumes you, and though you may eat, there is nothing to show for it. Life becomes meaningless, and you are nothing more than a walking corpse: Empty. ________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Powers The Devouring King exemplifies not a strong physical force nor magical one amongst his peers, but do not mistake this for weakness for his powers lie elsewhere. His power lies in his ability to bring out the worse in things. His presence is toxic, changing the very essence of beings and non-beings. It is his hand which cultivates the seed of desire, the primal shard preexisting, tending it to become an overgrowth that bursts through the nature of a thing. His work is to accelerate the inner hunger, the rest comes naturally as torment ends with feeding and overfeeding. Yet satiation never happens, and so indulgence becomes wickedness, carnal desires feasting upon morality, and moral desires feasting upon carnal needs. No one is safe from his abilities, to woo and tease out the hopes and dreams of a person, then taint them into a twisted reality. Where the pleasure may never end, but all meaning to it is lost.
While it is with this psychic force that the Dark Dream eat away at the will. Appearing as he would to mortals in a form they find desirable by dulling their beliefs in anything but to conceal the truth of his horror. But this illusionary self-delusion is merely a front for the true abilities he possess in the form of his magical contracts that taint reality with unyielding fantasy. It is his contracts which create kings out of men who lust for power, and scholars out of men who long for knowledge. Those who crave wealth find their coffers filled by the connections the Corruptor creates, and those who seek the pleasures of flesh shall find it so. By the magic of his magical contracts innocently offered to drag them deeper into their obsession, the shrewd negotiator can make those fantasies come true at a price. Already they have had their freedoms taken from them by his invisible chains, to sign a pact with him was undeniable.
And with these contracts, he may tap into the power of those poor souls, sealed away in their personal heavens but bound to be squeezed and abused at his pleasure. They who are trapped in an endless dream, but tormented in the same nightmare, used to lull another unsuspecting victim. Take for example a man who wishes to be a king, but to do so would need to raise an army to raise a coupe. An army of bound souls, would be offered, at the price of the future king's own. So a collection of lost souls, each trapped in their paradises. Such is his title, for he rules his subjects within their own kingdoms.
And why does Zhystkrexas do this? For it is his nature. He hungers. He is hunger. Though his kingdom is plenty, he is the starving lord who eyes upon the kingdoms of others. In time, he shall consume them, and then when there is nothing left to be consumed, he shall be forced to consume himself.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Original tribe Why have a tribe? Why one, when you may have many? All those who succumb to his devious devices are his to control and manipulate to further his goals. And yet, there is one clan which once roamed nomadically through the deserts of Koyatia who would dare to consider Zhystkrexas their patron. In the land of nothing, it is the Jaria clan who may lay claim to abundance through their ancient dealings with Zhystkrexas. In return for a single oasis, such that they may survive the desert, they had committed their entire surviving lineage to the Devouring King. He came to them with an offer of life, but they would in turn serve him. Brokers of his dealings, the middle man to spread his influence across the land, the example of what Zhystkrexas could grant: a life of luxury in the barrens of the sunlit wasteland.
Hedonistic epicureans, the members of the infamous Jaria clan have an indescribable amount of wealth, knowledge and power throughout Koyatia. Accumulated over the years by using their oasis as their capital asset, offering quenching water to the other wandering Bedouins of the desert. A small price to pay for water was cheaper than blood. It was indeed a fine water supply, with cool, clean, and crisp water, waters which made everything seem better, food eaten with it was far more delicious. Wounds washed with it healed faster, skin more supple, and bodies more fragrant as libidos raised. It was indeed the miraculous water, the Oasis of Jaria. And yet they who drank it would find the same water no longer capable of sating their thirst. Food without became bland, and all others became putrid without it, wounds festered and skin aged, clothing chaffed. They became locked in a dream, a dream which turned to a nightmare when the water ran dry.
So the addiction began, and so they who partook in the Oasis became enslaved to it, enslaved to the deals of the Jaria who smiled as their wealth bounded upwards with every transaction. It was not merely water which their patron had given them, but far more, for from the desires of others they had their own filled. Power, fame, wealth, everything came in abundance to the Jaria clan by the deviously sacred oasis of corruption. It was his plan all along, and from this, he had spread his influence across the world, into territories that reached as far North as Qayu and as far south Xochimilia, into the other tribes to steal away followers from his brethren. For in the end, he sought to devour the kin as well, one by one, regardless of any temporary alliances or deals he made with them.
And though Zhystkrexas had been locked away in the Pit for what chaos this single deal had done to the other tribes, the other kin could not stop the powers he had poured into the well, for should they desire anything else but to destroy it, anything their hearts wanted more than the destruction of the black pool, the root of all desire in itself, they would fall to its suggestions, the whispers that offer a single drink that would grant their wish into a reality. And still the black pool sits, untouched by the kin and guarded by the protective Jaria who have settled down in a grand gleaming metropolis of gold around the oasis for a Thousand years in the city of I'zhystana.
The jewel of the desert, I'zhystana is a palace of endless pleasures beyond the imagination. Fortunate travelers and visitors find their hearts torn between the exotic brothels, the grand arenas, or towering libraries. Vast world-class bazars for those hearts set on riches or dining upon the flavour of this world all in one night, lush gardens holding viewing galas for those who amuse themselves in the arts. Some may call it paradise, but for whose who consider it a den of debauchery should consider the great holy temples erected Eyra for her worship. Of which why temples to Eyra are now found in Zhystkrexas' city should amuse her to no end. Or perhaps it is merely his ploy to stoke her ego, to give her perhaps what she desired?
I approached him upon his golden throne, and he was far more handsome than I had heard. I found my eyes fixating upon the seat of his throne, wondering what monster was beneath his attire. He sat so regally, a presence so commanding that I had no shame in kneeling before him. I took to one knee and bowed my head, catching a glimpse of his charming smile. There my mind could only imagine those lips of his moving to the sound of his alluring voice. Every word dripping out of his mouth like golden honey, drizzled upon his chest. yes, how my tongue quivered inside as it brushed against my teeth, how I wanted to lick that sweetness off his glorious body. I lusted for him, and oh my heart leapt for joy when he placed the collar around my neck, and wrapped the chain around his hand. He had made me his consort, another to join his court, his entourage, his harem. Yes, I am your servant, your slave, your lover. I surrender myself to you, oh great lord of the Jaria!
I looked up at him from my lowly place, having begged him for a single coin. What did he see in me? A mere tramp with nothing, no home, no family, no money. How great was his wealth and generosity that he would invite me to share bread with him? As the guest of honor? But oh he raised me from the poor beggar I was and dressed me in finery, silken robes trimmed with silver and inlaid with gold. He bought me jewels and fitted them upon my wretched hands, and his servants washed by feet with fragrant oils. What luxury did he have? What wealth to be able to do so to a nobody like me? And then he asked me if I dreamt of riches, far more than I could carry with my arms. I told him yes, I dreamt of a sea of gold and silver, diamonds and rubies, emeralds and sapphires, all the treasures as far as the eye could see, and that all of it be mine. Then he showed me his vaults, which were all that I had imagined and more. For mountains of treasures like the grains of sand in the desert surrounded me as he smiled, throwing me forward into the vast piles of wealth with his hand and telling me to take all that I could carry. How my eyes widened in disbelief in awe as I praised him, oh great lord of the Jaria!
I serve him for he has granted me peace. He consoled me when I had lost her, with his gentle hand placed upon my head as I grieved into his shoulder. When I thought I was abandoned, he strengthened my resolve. He had given me the means to my vengeance. A spear which he offered before my feet. He asked if sought justice for her death, and gave me the means to do so. He smiled as I picked up the weapon, rising and steadying myself with the shaft as my mind dwelt upon the deaths of her killers. He applauded as I came back, drenched in blood with only my sweat to wash the stains away. Justice has been served, and for this I owe him my life. This blessed spear with which I had carried back the impaled trophies of my enemies heads, now will become his. I shall fight for him, I am his spear that shall pierce all those that would stand before him. May I die for your name, Oh great lord of the Jaria!
I was invited to his feast, a banquet thrown at one of his lavish parties. I thought I had tasted everything there was in life, but he proved me wrong. There was a smorgasbord of dishes upon his table, all smelling of exotically pleasing to the nose as I licked my lips in anticipation. The drinks he offered, the wines poured which filled the cups of all those gathered around him, and me sitting to his right as the dishes were being passed around. And as I ate my fill of rare delicacies from around the world, he smiled while asking if I had saved room for the main course. The main course? What was this to him then? Merely an appetizer? And what was it that he would bring to top off these scrumptious delights we had just experienced? Then there it was, a small boy dressed in a white tunic, perhaps a serving boy, approached us. My eyes could hardly believe the horrors which happened, but as the succulent smell wafted into my nose, I could not resist lifting my fork up to bring the tender flesh to my lips. I thank you for a most excellent dinner, oh great lord of the Jaria!
I sought to test his power, and to know his limits. There I wished to know more than anyone mortal had, I challenged him to tell me the secrets to immortality. For long did I spend hours over ancient text regarding his kin, and years I had devoted of my life to the study of the Children. I had studied sorceries beyond the scope of many men, and perfected my spellcraft to rival the lesser gods. Yet I was still mortal, as poweful as I was, death would end it all. So I had traveled to his kingdom to see if I could deceive him into telling me how to become a god. And so through my flattery, did he feign his impressions, praising my skills to entertain his court as he asked what I wished to be rewarded with. My request was what I had longed for, knowledge forbidden to a mortal man: transcendence. So he smiled, as he offered me a scroll. Now the torments never end as my flesh burns and bones melt, my mortality being purged by the eternal flames as my soul fuels your power. You have won, oh great lord of the Jaria!
I had trembled at his arrival, kneeling before me at my bedside. For three moons had I reigned over as chief. What have I done to displease him? Why so now was I stricken with this malady? This accursed illness which leaves me here too sick to enjoy the fruits of my conquests? Even now my own advisors and family plot against me and each other. To take up that which is rightfully mine. Why have you abandoned me? I asked him in disbelief, coughing blood and hacking phlegm. Did he not promise me the power to rule over them? But what cruel irony that it was that I should be confined to dying on this bed while another sits in my throne. Ignoring my questions, he rose to lift my head to meet his eyes. Then he smiled and asked me if I was ready. Please have mercy, oh great lord of the Jaria!
I scoffed at the depravity of his kingdom when he approached me. I had rebuked him for the vast hedonism that bleeds out from his den of sin. I being virtuous detested all that he offered me. I wanted nothing that he could ever bring. So I bade him to leave, and left his presence. I sought refuge in the wilderness, away from his corrupting shadow. There I suffered in the heat of the sun, the cold of the night, the hunger of an empty stomach and thirst of a parched throat. But he would never taint me, I would be pure, and untouched. I would become a paragon of resisting the corrupting demon, the vile one who seeks to twist us all. And foolishly I thought I had rid of his influence at last, but he waited. He was patient, as I squandered away my time, living in moderation, living simply on the verge of death for fear of his return. How I wasted it all away, in pursuit of my enlightenment, a chance at family and friends, a chance to pursue a hobby and skilled art, a chance at a full life to experience it all. By attempting to resist him, I had fallen to the desire to resist him. And so he came to me once more in my old age, though I could not see his smile, as he asked me once more if he could grant me anything I desired now. Grant me rest, oh great lord of the Jaria! ________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Opinions
I have granted her wishes, and now it is time to reap the benefit. Soon Eyra the contract will be due, and I shall collect. I'll see you in your dreams Seer. There, I shall devour your eyes.
A slippery one, but freedom comes at a price. It always does, and so many have tried to escape my deals. But in the end no matter where you run, you cannot escape your own desires. How I shall gnaw at your feet.
A virtuous opponent, a powerful guardian. And yet, too attached to his mountain. It is his weakness, which I can exploit. His throat should make a good meal.
A pugnacious one with desires easy to read. For he seeks the greatest opponent to face him, so I shall grant him this wish and create for him his greatest rival. It shall be please to no end to suck the marrow from his bones.
I have no qualms with him. An artisan such as he may find a use at my side to make the chains and tools of enslavement. And then when finished with his greatest work, I shall roast him upon his own furnace and chew on his roasted hide.
A fellow corruptor. A worthy ally, and adversary. In the end only one of us may rule. And I am certain your treacherous tongue be as delicious as the lies you would spread.
How far will you go to learn the secrets of the universe? How deep into depravity will you sacrifice your being? What you would call forbidden knowledge, I call opportunity. And his brain shall be feasted upon and savored.
Your children are nothing compared to my own. Yours serve you in life, mine serve themselves in life. I wonder if your organs are just as white, perhaps your gallbladder shall find its way unto my plate.
I have cheated you so many times now, you must certainly hate me. Mortals make deals with you out of fear, but with me? Oh them come to me by the droves out of longing. Three sets of cheeks to dine upon, how indulgent.
Pick a form, any form you desire. Change into whatever may please you to be. It matters not, for within my jaws you shall shift no more as I swallow you whole.
Bring me a tribute of your hunt. Yes, feed me your prizes, and leave nothing for yourself. For I shall devour your keen fingers charred and skewered by your own arrows should you fail to sate me.
I like a challenge, your followers are amongst my favorite to turn. To watch them fall into my hands from yours as they become bathed in blood and glory. Years ago I would have enjoyed crunching my teeth against your own, but now I must wait until you become a dragon once more.
With all your weapons you cannot bring my kingdom to an end. You who would dare feast upon what is mine, for I hunger greater than you. My weapons are keener than yours, more biting and your dance shall serve as a means to achieve an end: your own. You who would tear flesh apart, how I long to hack you limb from limb from limb from limb and dine upon your well broiled arms.
How I despise you for what you do. To give them satiation they do not deserve. Your children should be mine, and then they shall hunger. How do you feed them from your breast and make them grow fat and full. Perhaps then, I too shall upon your bosom broiled in the fat of your children.
Name: Kilgarrah, The Honorable, the Dragon Knight, the Dragon King, Father of dragons.
Description: It was said that kilgarrah's initial form was of a great dragon, even amongst the usually six limbed hellkites, legless wurms, and swift wyverns, Few natural dragons could be considered equal in power and greatness.
However despite being a monster, kilgarrah has the spirit of a warrior and has a very distinct set of Morales revolving around chivalry, honor, and respect above all else. This has lead him to die in battle numerous times, and as such had to have humans willing to give their bodies up for him. Because of this, kilgarrah's form presently is more human then dragon. When kilgarrah takes his willing host, he will mostly resemble that host, however the body will gain some minor mutations (a pair of small horns, reptilian glowing eyes and two sharp canines in addition to an otherwise normal set of teeth.)
Kilgarrah is known for his pride in addition to his honor bound Morales, one must be careful not to poke a hole in his ego.
Powers: The power of Kilgarrah is that of fire and physical superiority. Even with a human form, his strength, speed, and durability prove to have qualities that would be considered super human. He has some extension of fire abilities, but can only produce and manipulate flames from his body such as creating a ball of fire in his palm to breathing fire. As a dragon he cannot burn or be damaged by heat, even in human form. He can also transform his current body into a dragon that is smaller and lacks any wings compared to his original state, a weaker and shallow shadow of his former glory. He has learned to use weapons with great efficiency and typically uses a lance and great shield, adorning a set of armor made by the blacksmiths of his tribe as well. All three equipments are made with black iron, an alloid made specially by the tribe that while not the hardest metal it has a very high heat resistance, and durable enough to not expected to break anytime soon.
Original tribe: Kilgarrah's tribe was renowned as being the top soldiers, warriors, and mercenaries of any culture, however their difficult to work with as they refuse to do any work that goes against their code of ethics. Kilgarrah has attracted many mortals that have been inspired by strength and knightly virtues. Warriors, former mercenaries, samurais,all sorts of men at arms and their families all gathered to follow the dragon child. Seeing him as a god-like figure they follow his teachings with a strict code of ethics, and their entire culture revolves around his codes of knighthood, honor, chivalry, and to either lead a path of warrior-ship, or support a warrior with the highest honor. Families will often teach their sons (and daughters occasionally) their warriors art, which goes all the way back to the ancestors they started from, be it a samurai or knight. When kilgarrah dies, the tribe will go under temporarily leadership by an elected warrior and his generations to come for the next hundred years. After the hundredth year the oldest sons of all families have the option to fight to the death in a make shift coliseum for the right to be the vessel for kilgarrah, which is considered the highest honor of all in the cultures tradition.
As tradition, many warriors will either tame or slay monsters, usually dragons and giants, to appease Kilgarrah. Those that tame a dragon become one of his most elite and favorite of warriors, the scale lords. Other high titles include giant slayers, dragon slayers, and martyrs. For the thousands of years Kilgarrah has been locked away, the tribe has been assimilated by the ruling establishments, though many families that have survived keep the tradition alive, and tell tales of the ancient dragon that once taught them their skills and ethics, keeping the culture alive. Though still harboring many great warriors, like Kilgarrah becoming a shadow of his former strength, so to did eventually his tribe, being loss without their dragon leader and watered down by the assimilation of the ruling nations, what they once were are now considered mere myths, as well as how great their leader was, if he would be considered a leader at all. His name has been tarnished by the censorship districts as a tyrant and monster instead of a warrior and a leader, which started to tip the iceberg for his rage.
Faction: Though independant, he was eventually pressured to pick a side. While he had a disdain for many of his own kin he sides with the angels simply to defend his own people and potentially great warriors that come from the human race. However he only made him and his faction present in the fewest battles he can get away with.
Ancedotes: Kilgarrah before he was first slain was considered to be the king of dragons despite not having any sort of control or leadership of them. During the war in the few battles he was involved with he was a terror of the skies and earth, alongside his own army of elite soldiers his appearance in a fight marked the defeat of the enemy. However shortly near the war's end this changed. He lost his form to a battle with a massive giant who was trampling over his tribe. After a lengthy and intense battle, the giant stood victorious over the dragon until it too succumbed to its wounds minutes after, providing years worth of food to the surviving tribe. Because of this he has a distinct hatred towards giants and offers great rewards and respect to those that bring him the head of a giant.
Long, long ago, perhaps not too long after the birth of the Children, Kilgarrah created the monsters known as the dragons, thus he has hence been known as the father or king of all dragons. Even today, where his name as a warrior tarnished and forgotten, mortals that wish to ascend to the powers of the scale worship him in secret, idolizing him as a sort of omnipotent being though in reality he is trapped in the pit.
Eyra: He disdains her lack of strength and feels that she doesn't deserve her god-like appraisal by her tribe. He finds her dishonorable, especially due to her sly nature. However despite his disdain to her, there is a degree of pity as both of them lost the prime of their power one way or another. What many see as a betrayal Kilgarrah sees as a necessary precaution for the continuation of humanity, and as such, he doesn't think any more ill of her for imprisoning him. That wasn't to say he wasn't pissed at her, he was enraged, but he at least understood why. When he discovered of the remains of his now assimilated tribe, and how is name has been tarnished over the thousands of years of his absence, never before had Kilgarrah felt such levels of rage, such anger is likely to follow with ruthless violence. So many followers for such a withering old sibling, what did you think would happen when you tried to get rid of your own kin? You let my own name be tarnished, Eyra, but now I can watch the humans loose faith in you too.
Kinion: At best he sees him as something to laugh or mock at, at worst a minor annoyance. He despises both his ability to go where he pleases yet having no sort of strength whatsoever. Though this anger is mostly rooted in confusion due to the nature of what he can only reason as a fool. I am tired of you wandering in my territory without authorization, if you could just sit still so I can kill you I can forgive this insolence.
Wu-Dan: A pleasant presence in his view, he both respects his great power and even admits that he is likely greater then himself unarmed (Though he wont always confess to this), and he respects his reclusive nature. He is one of the few of his fellow children he admires. If you're body was more scale then skin then I could finally see you as perfect, great brother.
Nod: Despite what he'll tell you of how he sees him as a lesser child, Kilgarrah has a deep and hidden respect for him. He admires his great strength and beastly nature (though he still believes dragons are superior to all else.) perhaps at a time before he was stripped of his wings and glory from his first death, he might have been a stronger force of power and flames, but now in his current state he sees himself as a sort of rival to Nod now, while he may say he is still above him he truly believes they would be equal in combat, though his ego wouldn't accept a fact where Nod could be stronger then himself at any time. I know you're strength, brother, but you should know mine as well. Come spar with me if you are foolish enough to believe that I am the weaker one.
Kozz: He has enough respect to Kozz as to welcome his presence, if he ever did show. Of course that would be unlikely, but he encouraged his own tribe to seek out Kozz's to purchase their forged crafts. Kozz, if only all could admire your works of a true artist. Perhaps your work could be as beautiful and eternal as a dragon's scales.
Azoth: If he disdains Eyra, then he absolutely hates Azoth. Few people exist that Kilgarrah denies complete respect for, and Azoth is one of those people. His deceptive nature, illusionary powers, his betrayal and the monstrosities that were once his people are all the biggest points of hatred towards him, and has no pity that his name has been denied from the public and locked away in the pit. You do not deserve freedom, it was because of the siblings like yourself that we were all locked away to begin with. You live an existence of lies and gossip, yet where will you flee when I find you again?
Therelon: While you would think he would despise a magic user, Kilgarrah respects it as a sort of elderly scholar, frail but wise. And acknowledged such wisdom as greater then his own. However, he has grown envious of Therelon of its wings, as Kilgarrah himself misses the skies he once flew through. Therelon, you spend so much time with your books and tower, surely you can find a spell to revive my power. Or are you too busy enjoying the freedom the sky offers?
Chinasa: He has very little opinion of this sibling of his other then he creeps him out from his now disfigured appearance. He doesn't really like his powers either, but he likes to think of him as the little and weaker brother that tries to overcome the big brother. He finds this entertaining. Come fragile brother. You wish to be a king? Slay me then, for you cannot gain respect if you cannot prove you're strength.
Tarthus: While a warrior's death is very important to the tribe of Kilgarrah, Kilgarrah himself has very little opinion of Tarthus. In fact, he has very little understanding of his nature and motivation that perplexes him. However he understands the importance of mortality to a degree and doesn't hold Tarthus in any real negative opinion. I am grateful for you're deeds. My children would not have left this world happier. But what is it that you truly desire?
Aylin: While he has some respect for her he otherwise has very little opinion of her as rarely does he ever interact with her, due to her reclusive nature and far off territory, but from what he has seen in the war she is both an unseen assassin an excellent marksman. Even arrows require skill for marks, you truly need not humble yourself or hide in fear, dear sister. Perhaps we can hunt beasts and giants together..
Ash: Due to her, or rather their nature, Kilgarrah as a difficult time understanding her yet he despises her all the same, seeing her as untrustworthy due what seems like a bipolar nature. So many forms for one creature, do you even have a true face, or are you a shapeless puddle of lies and contradiction?
Zhystkrexas: He has as much hate for Zhystkrexas as he hates Azoth. Corrupting mortals with temptations and seemingly no redeeming qualities in the eyes of Kilgarrah, he denies him any sort of honor or respect. Especially since many of his own people fell for his corruption, which is something he can never forgive. there is no honor in giving empty promises to proud warriors. You are all sin, but perhaps you are more gluttonous. Such gluttony has made you a fool, brother, for you could not hope to dine on the dragon king
Kalikmalo Bramah Thalmen: There was a time were Kilgarrah could match such a fellow child as an equal. Massive claws, teeth, and tails clashing with blades over fire and muscle. Such times have long passed, as he no longer has such power to be an equal. He feels he had lost his throne as the strongest. However his disdain grew worse towards him as not only he finds his path of destruction and purification "A disgraceful method to a misguided philosophy." And hates how he feeds off of other children. There is nothing honorable or respectful in such a method, to deny a warriors death and disgraces the dead. Immortal or not us children shouldn't be dishonored by such savagery. He can at least respect his method of protecting humanity, but thats all he can respect of him. Many arms and as tall as a mountain, but the use of such power is a blight to us kin. Had I the chance I would have taken pleasure in crushing you, if only I had my true form to do it. But even if I did, I would still grant you a warrior's death.
Nefas Sen, Lady of the Deep: While some view her as an abomination, Kilgarrah sees her as a loving mother of her tribe. While he can agree that her methods are a bit extreme, and its controversial for her servants to loose much of their freedom, seeing some self of sense within her he tends to get very defensive against those that think ill of her. You remind me of the pallid figure, a creature somehow so elegantly beautiful yet a hideous monstrosity at the same time, though you are the opposite of him in every way, dark instead of pale. Your servants are drawn to you out of longing, but I wonder if you yourself are longing for something that you hope these children of yours can offer.
Estoil The Dreamweaver: While he had used to give honor to Estoil. Every mortal has dreams and looking after the mortals that followed the great dragon himself, there was much homage to the child that embodied such dreams and ideals. However when he joined the demons, he lost the respect of Kilgarrah. Kilgarrah hated most of the demons, save exceptions like Tarthus, for their disdain towards humans. He never knew of Estoil's envy, but he can at least tell of his sudden betrayal towards the humans he once inspired. No devotion, has sin taken hold of you, once dear brother? Where is the honor you once helped to nurture.
Zaphesto: Kilgarrah appreciates in service to the humans, though his jokes can be frustrating at times. Giving to charity is as rewarding as the honor of a warrior, Zaphesto, however your humor is thorns to my ears.
Grindlehook: Like Tarthus and Nod Grindlehook is one of the few demons Kilgarrah doesn't despise. I apologize for anytime I or my offspring burn down your forests, good brother, but it is in the very nature of fire.
Nerine: Kilgarrah is not fond of her, well, playful nature. He can respect her strength and will to fight but otherwise he sees her as the more annoying twin of Grindlehook. Though he wont admit it, his now mortal influenced being is somewhat vulnerable to her ways. Go away pest or ill consume your woodland in flames, unless if you are here to fight me, Nerine, I have no interest in you.
Kalik’s name has numerous interpretations. He is the Kaala Vaala—The Black One; the Vishaal—The Titan; the Raakshas Bhakshak—The Demon Eater; the Kaee Hathiyaar—The One with Many Arms; Vidhvansak—The Destroyer; Vaalee Veeraanee—The Drinker of Desolation; Parivartak—The Bringer of Change. He is a fearsome warrior whose skin is as black as space and seems to absorb all light like a black hole. His eyes are as red as coals and spheres as bright as the sun burn within them. His body appears as though it were sculpted from stone. His calves are as thick as the oldest elms and muscles as hard as the finest steel. About his waist is a belt of the finest ore and gems, and a white sarong of the most precious cloth hangs down to his knees.
Vishaal; Kalik can appear as tall as the tallest mountain or as small as a mouse. Some can see the god standing on the horizon like a great statue or shadow. In the center of his forehead burns a symbol ॐ. Hanging from the stretched lobes of his ears are two hoop earrings. Raakshas Bhakshak; he has an appetite for the blood of demons and is the Vaalee Veeraanee. He adorns his neck with a necklace of the skulls of demons and not just demons. There are some angels who had disagreed with his ethics.Kaee Hathiyaar; it is unknown how many arms the demigod has, but he is seen on occasion with eight total. In each of his hands, he carries various weapons and some not so much as weapons as they are objects. He wields swords, spears, bowls, scales, shields, lances, axes, tridents; mirrors; scrolls; and snakes—each weapon possesses the power to best most gods for he is the Aton of Destruction and Change.
All that has a beginning has an end. This applies to all things and not just life. Kalik has destroyed things unrelated to battle such as sadness, fear, and pain. Thus, his shakti though destructive, it can be purifying. When one isn’t blinded by emotions or obsession, then one is able to see the world more clearly. His destruction brings about creation; change; and opportunity as the body, mind, spirit, and the cosmos heal and renew itself. Kalik can always be found facing East, waiting until the day that the sun will refuse to rise for that day will be The End.
Kalik does not boast about his power or his strength. He is antisocial and is more of the type to speak when spoken to, and prefers to listen more than speak for he listens constantly to those who pray to him. He possesses a near ever-lasting stamina and patience. When he stands facing the east, birds, beasts, and mortals sit at his feet unafraid, and fearful only when the demigod is active. He is a bringer of destruction, but he is also a healer who can destroy those things that cause harm and suffering.
He is a superior warrior whose strength can divide the sea. The swing of a sword could split a mountain and some objects he possesses can separate space to draw those who oppose him and his ethics from hiding.
The symbol on his forehead opens to a Third Eye that allows him to see all around him. He can see hidden enemies or traps, and can see through the illusions of his enemies with that eye. With his numerous arms, he can battle a warrior whilst remaining in place. His arms can reach great distances and when severed, it is uncertain if the demigod regenerates the missing limb or if another one of his many arms takes its place.
His black flesh is like a suit of armor and cannot be scratched, scraped, or stabbed so easily. The demigod does not bleed, but his body cracks when damaged and can shatter. Because of this, his pain tolerance is extraordinarily high and he bears a stone-like stoicism. Rarely does Kalik smile, but he does frown and that expression alone is unsettling.
Kalik has been known to transform those servants who have been selflessly loyal to him. They will be transformed by his shakti into beings that mimic his image. These beings are called the Zura and they are mighty creatures of great skill and shakti. When they were transformed, their minds understood Shakti. Eldritch words that allowed them to harness great power. They are the words of Kalik for he is one of the few children who speaks a unique tongue. For this, Kalik’s tongue is as white as heated metal and when he speaks Shakti, his words resonate with power. There are few children who speak and comprehend Kalik’s language. Those who understand him are usually an ally, a lover, a rival, or one who has spent patient hours with the demigod.
Kalik is most notably seen standing on the horizon like an immense shadow with his multiple arms. While some misleadingly believe that that is the only size he is able to take, he can actually shrink himself to small proportions to be as small as an ant or mouse. He can hide in the pockets or throats of mortals, and they say a mortal possessed by Kalik will speak Shakti. They will also bear the demigod’s symbol somewhere on their body—usually the forehead or throat.
The child drinks and devours the blood and flesh of demons. Due to “demons” being ambiguous for an angel could just as easily become a demon or a demon an angel, it can be said that he also devours the blood and flesh of angels. He is a cannibal and will always consume those who fall to his blade. Lately, it has been those children who do not agree with his destruction who have contested him.
Water color painting of the Zura by Zurian Painter Nodus Khaleem.
Original Tribe
The Zura were not just the name of the multi-armed servants of Kalik, but the people who built a glorious city around the titan, and he stood like a statue over the city forever facing dawn, which was the direction in which the Zurans prayed. They adorned his feet and the earth where he stood with offerings and flowers. They wore serpents about their necks and colored their scales for fashion and at times, the snakes proved to be symbolic.
An albino snake was always looped about the neck of a bride at weddings. Venomous snakes were draped about the necks of criminals who would be bitten and suffer a slow and agonizing death. The Zura built their culture around Kalik. Zurans were allowed to seek vengeance against those who had caused them great suffering or pain and they would offer their bodies to the demigod, pleading their case, which would bring them either peace or rebuke. The demigod was the supreme judge when it came to crime in Zura, if a case ever required his attention. Thus, Zurans were a vengeful people when scorned, but only the purest would pray to Kalik to destroy their anger so that they would be able to forgive.
Because of Kalik, the Zurans lived into the hundreds, which was much longer than most people. He destroyed their every affliction, but he could not destroy time. He could only prolong it. Those most loyal to him were transformed into beings called Zura, and the Zura were mighty warriors that guarded the city and destroyed any army that dare attempt to take it. The Zura were all that was necessary to deal with most nations for their skills were nearly unmatched. The Empire of Zura with but its prosperous few were able to hold off legions of armies. For every one Zura a hundred soldiers died so the legends say.
Unable to bleed, Kalik poured his shakti into the bowl during the Age of Betrayal. When the demigod was imprisoned, his missing statue was regarded as an omen. Prophets began to preach of The End, spooking the people despite the sun continuing to rise each day. The Zura were transformed back into mortals and the Zurans fell victim to their own madness. As crime continued, there was no longer a fear of rebuke. They slaughtered each other and eventually overthrew the government to descend into senseless anarchy. The once adamant civilization was trampled on by invaders who nearly exterminated the entire race of peoples in their conquests. The empire burned and blood soaked its streets. Zura was never the same.
Kalik was an uncomfortable being to approach about such matters as “whose side would he choose?” He had been disliked by Angel and Demon alike. Some were not pleased with his ethics and behavior. It was solely because of the compassion he had for his people that he chose the side of the Angels and gave them the shakti they needed to crush the Demons.
Legend says that when Kalik joined the fray, the world quaked with his charge. He crushed demons under his feet and the swinging of his blades created cyclones of razor destruction that painted the world red with blood. He disgusted his kin by drinking and devouring the blood and flesh of fallen Angels and Demons. They say he fought savagely with a Demon’s throat between his teeth and when the Demon’s allies attempted to save him, they were shredded by Kalik’s numerous arms. He fought endlessly for days without rest, gorging on the fallen that scholars believed were what fueled his endless stamina. When the battle was over, Kalik had three bands of skull necklaces about his neck. He licked the blood from his skin and weapons like a beast and…faced the East.
Only those characters who understand his language will be able to read his comments. Until then, you will only see gibberish. If you see "..." by your name, it is only because we haven't planned any relations, but some can form in-game over time. If you see (no comments), it just literally means that Kalik is silent on the matter and has no comments.
Puraana dagaabaaj kutiya...
Buddhoo...
Pahaad par khada hai aur yah visphot hona hoga...
Jaanavaron unake maans chug liya maare jaane kee hotee hain , aur unakee khaal , daant, aur panje - sab kuchh - istemaal kiya jaega.
…
…
The only one worthy of my ears…
…
…
Mere kandhe par pakshee ...
(no comments)
Tum mar chuke ho isase pahale ki aap baat kar khatm hoga…
Tum bas duniya ke tareeke samajh mein nahin aata...
Nefas Sen, Lady of the Deep, Mother of Abominations, The Sunken Queen.
"Hush, little lost one. Your struggles are over, child...you are welcome in the Deep, for the Deep accepts all, and rejects none..."
Description:
What does every lost little child ever want? A loving mother to care for them. Feed them. Look after them. What does every outcast, scorned soul, and lost man or woman want? A place to call home. A place to belong, a place to feel camaraderie from ones peers. Every injured, dying, and wounded man wishes to be saved. To live, to fear that abyss known as death. What do the Wrathful, Gluttonous, Envious, Prideful, Lustful, Slothful, and Greedy want? A balm, a soothing hymn to ease their souls and sinful want.
That is what Nefas Sen is. A loving mother. A person who will always accept you for who you are. A healing salve that will heal wounds and save one from death. A soothing hymn that will make men forget their lusts, envy and other sins. She accepts all into her bosom, and rejects none. All are drawn to her beauty, unnatural charisma, and soothing hymns and silken voice. All one must do...is give her your undying loyalty.
To pledge oneself to the Sunken Queen, is to give up ones humanity and become an abomination. To Oppose the Mother of Abominations, is to incite the wrath of the Deep itself. To incite the wrath of the Deep, is to incite the wrath of the Lady of the Deep, Nefas herself. The Deep demands loyalty, and loyalty it will have. Once ones soul is tainted by the Deep, there is no stopping it. Any human soul will eventually succumb to it, and be turned into an abomination themselves, thinking of nothing other than serving the Sunken Queen.
The Lady of the Deep appears to all as a tall, feminine figure with palest of skin, only beaten by the Pastel Lord, and the blackest, and most silken of hair that falls to her waist. She easily is taller than most humans, save for the tallest of men. Her skin is smooth, almost unnaturally so, and any who have the permission to touch the flawless skin, will forever find themselves longing for the soft touch. She is far from human looking, however. No, it is quite obvious she is not human. She has nothing to hide, and wishes to hide nothing from the humans. Her eyes are gold in color, serpentine slits for pupils upon pitch-black sclera that seem to shimmer with starlight. Extending from the back of her head are four large, black horns. Two curve around her head to the front, with two smaller ones extending upwards. On her head rests a pale green emerald. Upon her collar rests a black mantle with a sapphire inlaid into it. She has four arms. Two extending from her human shoulders, with two more extending from her back, giving further hint to her inhuman nature.
Those who incite her wrath, and those who possibly have a high affinity for things which humans are unable to see, she will appear very different too. Standing at a massive four stories tall, the Sunken Queen is a terrifying, and possibly impossible to comprehend existence. Mere men are unable to see her true, glorious form unless she wishes it. The transformation into this otherworldly beast is something of a tribulation itself for those watching, if only because such an act can cause those watching to be driven mad from the sight.
Six arms sprout from her back, with two spindly legs to stand on and a small tail. Two of her arms have numerous tentacles on them, able to extend their reach even further. Her head is an almond shape with holes all around it, with numerous tentacles writhing and falling from the bottom of it. Every hole contains an eye, and can see you almost wherever you are. A fleshy, tan hide covers her with small hairs growing all over her body. Four, bone like protrusions extend from the side of her neck, curving forwards to the front, and two curving towards the back, almost forming a protective shell around her neck and head.
Powers:
To put in simple terms, Nefas is the Lady of the Deep, and Mother of the Abominations that that spew from its depths. She is their Loving Queen Mother, and they her loving children. Among her most notable powers, is to turn any living creature - so long as it has a soul - and claim it as the Deeps by enveloping it in her loving embrace. Those who receive such a boon directly, will be turned into the strongest creatures of the Deep, that will only become stronger and stronger by bathing in the deeps cold embrace. She is not the only creature of her ilk able to do such an act either. Some are specifically bred to dominate the minds of humans, and slowly turn them into denizens of the deep, whether they wish it or not.
For once they turn, they will think of nothing else but their Queen. The most common, is a small slug like creature that will bite, and inject a human with their blood. Such an act, eventually causes those of weaker mind to seek out the Deep...or be driven mad by resistance, and turn anyways unless they receive a cure.
The effects of such an act vary from creature to creature, and there may be variations even among creatures of the same species. However, one thing remains constant. It will hush the creatures instincts, desires of wrath, vengeance, and greed...and turn their thoughts to nothing but serving the Deep and their new Queen. They become the most loyal soldiers anyone would ever have need of. Unflinching, unyielding, and never would betray their Queen, no matter what duress they are put under.
Do not mistake her for a frail queen who sits upon her throne, either. While she prefers to leave the fighting to her precious, loving children, she will not hesitate to fight those who harm the Deep and those who dwell within. Aside from her ability to corrupt those, dominate their mind and soul with madness until they succumb to her, one should not underestimate her physical abilities, she is quite physically strong, even in human form. However, while she is most likely stronger than your average human, any demi-god who's sole facet is strength would likely outclass her.
Additionally, she is quite adept at things of the Arcane nature, and commands the very stars and cosmos to some extent, able to channel their powers from her hands and eyes, the latter of which constantly seem to sparkle with starlight.
Original tribe:
The original tribe of Nefas Sen, was a small island tribe that called themselves the Su'Akur, originally far removed from the troubles of the mainland, and even before the wars of the Children, it was considered to be somewhat of a legend. The people of the island worshiped no gods, and were ignorant of many things outside of their tiny little slice of heaven. However, what they did have, was a labyrinthine system of caves that extended far, far, deep, beneath the earth and the ocean itself. Sometimes...monsters would come from there, and the citizens would kill them.
However, they got too curious, as was human nature. They sought that which was unknown to them. Armed with only crude spears and clubs, they delved, sealing the fate of them and their people.
It was going well, at first. The monsters they encountered were relatively weak and easily dealt with, even for them. They progressed, eventually coming to a large, open cavern. It looked, to most, to be the end of the cave system. A large, open chamber, with only one thing situated in the center of it. A large, circular, ritualistic pedestal with stains of red, and and two small indentation suspiciously the size of human eyes. They smashed the obviously evil thing, confident that they had solved the trouble with the beasts.
They didn't notice the thing clinging to the ceiling, curiously watching the humans.
Sometime later...something odd happened to the people of Su'Akur. They originally called it a 'Sickness'. A sickness of the mind, something that gnawed away at a persons sanity, giving them visions of some creature. Making them desire to seek it out. They head to seal the cavern because the people would attempt to flee in there, and after several never returned...they were more than a little wary of it. They were able to keep the afflicted safe, for the most part for a few years.
But someone, like always, grew too curious for their own good. Perhaps they had good intentions - find out what had happened to those who disappeared in the caverns, but the city would never find out. As soon as they unsealed the cavern...those that had been lost inside...came out, almost completely sane, cured of their mania. In fact, for a few days they lived completely normal, and no one seemed to question.
...and then the murders started. Those afflicted with madness, grew worse and worse, muttering something about 'The Lady of the Deep', saying yelling at others to free themselves from their bonds so that they may be with her. With this and the murders...the town was in chaos. And eventually, everyone either succumbed to the madness, becoming the first Denizens of the deep, or were killed for their resistance.
And eventually, the city fell. A large chasm opened beneath the island on the sea floor, dragging the city beneath the waves to be with their Loving Mother. There was nothing left of the city on the surface, only waves and a calm sea....
Now that the Lady of the Deep had loyal followers, she commanded them to build herself and them a grand city beneath the earth, and so they did. There, the citizens of the deep lived mostly in peace. They had no desire to harm others, or to expand their territory, for their territory was what lied beneath the earth. They would let the others fight over whatever silly territory they wanted to above. Any who was lost, sick, or otherwise shunned from the world above was welcomed to her grand city.
When the war started, she tried her best to stay neutral. She had no desire to bring her children to harm, and any who lived within her domain were promised a peaceful life, free from the troubles of the surface. She was confident she could remain neutral, but eventually even she had to choose a side in the war, and she felt her best chance for peace for her people...laid with the Angels.
It was quite the surprise to many demons and even Angels. How could one who's very nature was to dominate humans and forcibly turn them into loyal followers, ever side with the Angels? Needles to say, she wasn't the most popular during the war, but that was fine. She trusted that after this, that her and her people would be able to sleep peacefully beneath the waves.
Her children were a great boon to the angels in the war, fighting loyally and unyielding, even at the risk of death. She was certain they would have deserved a great rest after this, and she would have given it to them. Let them sleep for eons beneath the waves.
And then she was betrayed.
Trapped within the pit. Perhaps she should have expected it, but it didn't matter. Her children were hunted mercilessly for simply being what they were - Different. Those who survived were the strongest of them, falling into a deep slumber as their queen also slept. The Sunken City if Su'Akur was eventually abandoned, becoming nothing more than an overgrown ruin, destined to crumble into nothing.
Years of brooding and being alone with her thoughts, has made her more than a little angry towards the humans. She has never particularly been fond of humans. Always shunning things they don't understand, or killing them. That opinion hasn't changed, but before where there was indifference to them so long as they did not harm her or her children, it has been replaced with nothing but scorn and hate.
She will find those of her children who are left, and who have survived...and rebuild Su'Akur. Raise it to the surface, and make the humans understand their foolishness for going against a God.
Faction:
Nefas sided with the Angels, if only so her people could get some semblance of peace. She was betrayed in the end, and she is unlikely going to forgive them any time soon....
Anecdotes:
Her role in the war was a very straight forward one, even if she didn't like fighting herself. She and her people were more of front line fighters, with her overwhelming lesser demons and men with her otherworldly form and magic and her people doing whatever they were the best at. A corrupted Minotaur, bulldozing through the ranks of some demons. A human mage using some form of magic they learned within the Sunken City to summon parts of an otherworldly creature to rend enemies asunder.
At the end of battles they won...she would tempt those wounded and that were still dying to become part of the deep, bolstering her ranks further.
One thing to note, is that even though she sided with the Angels, she was never specifically loyal to them and only took part in a few battles if victory would hinge on her peoples participation. Some theorize she was simply using the angels to further her own goals, but whether that is true or not...is a mystery left to the sands of time.
~The age of War~ Have any of you ever been to the deep? No? Figures. With all this fighting going on, I suppose you wouldn't. After all, you wouldn't believe those...things talk of being neutral, would ya? Those...creepy tentacle things or whatever that live down there. Anyways, Well, I've got a story for all of you. I'm a retired traveler now. I traveled all over the world before I took an arrow to the knee. I always heard stories of the deep. Of what was down there, and me being slightly curious was wondering if there was any truth to them. A last little adventure for me, if ya will.
You hear all the time if ya go down there you'll never return. Well, I know goddamn why. I'll get to that in a second. So I found a merchant who had been there before. He said he was never going back either. When I asked him why, he said he was just scared of the place. It was just...it felt wrong. Well, that was backing up everything I heard so far. He gave me a map to the place.
So it led me to some cave in some backwater coastal city. After asking around, it seemed like creatures of the deep definitely came and went occasionally. They mostly kept to themselves, but anyone who came in uninvited was driven out. Never harmed, but driven out, so the village more or less left it alone.
Being the curious bastard I was, I went in. I fought quite a few Deep creatures in there, and almost lost my life by the time I traversed to the end of the cavern.
And what I found, was a magnificent metropolis under the sea. A shining jewel, calling brightly to me. I then understood what the merchant had meant as soon as I laid eyes on it. I wanted to leave. I wanted to leave. Everything was telling me to leave.
But there was also a little voice, urging me to go further. See this city...visit the palace.
Visit the Lady of the Deep herself.
And so I did.
I never left. -Excerpt from the ramblings of a local madman.
- The exact location of Su'Akur has been lost to the annals of history. Only those devoted to the Lady of the Deep would have any inkling of where the city would even be located. Not that anyone would really dare to search for the ancient site, however. When Nefas was imprisoned, the city was shortly abandoned.
Things still lurk in the deep, however. Not all are sleeping. Masterless abominations, who forget their loyalties...
Opinions:
Eyra the Seer: "Traitorous deceiver. There was once respect for this one, but I was betrayed. Perhaps we should have seen it. We were never well liked among the angels, but we wanted nothing more than to leave in peace. The Deep demands vengeance...I will drag her and her precious humans into the Deep, and she will know true suffering as my plaything."
It is true that Nefas once respected Eyra on some level before being betrayed. Perhaps it was her talk of peace, she liked. Perhaps it was merely a front to further her own personal agenda, whatever it was before she was sealed. Whatever the case - that respect has eroded away into nothing but hate for being betrayed by her and the humans.
Kinion The Fool: "A fool. His trickery is amusing at times. Entertaining. Only as long as he keeps his trickery away from my children, I have no quarrel with him."
Nefas is more or less indifferent to the trickster God. That said, she tries to have as little contact with him as possible as she isn't his biggest fan. As long as he keeps his trickery away from her children, she will leave him alone.
Wu Dan: "...have no strong opinions."
Nefas is more or less wholly indifferent to Wu Dan. While they both desire to protect humanity on some level, their methodologies are vastly different. She wants to bring them all together, united under one Queen. One nation, one ideology. One purpose. Their ideologies will likely clash, in the end, but as long as Wu Dan does keeps to himself, she will be content to let him be.
Nod the Great Beast: "A violent, battle loving beast. Detest his nature. Yet, Pity. If one could direct his battle lust to something else..."
Nefas views Nod as nothing more than a savage beast that needs to be tamed. She detests, and yet pities his rage, violent fueled existence. While he is a worthy foe on the battlefield, fighting and battle solves nothing in the long run. It only serves to cause chaos, disharmony and hatred. Useless emotions and desires. While he thinks they make man great, she thinks they drive man to Ruin.
They would unlikely ever get along, considering her disdain for battle itself.
Kozz the Forgemaster: "Spent little time with. A motivated individual. Little time for, however, do not approve of his crafts."
Nefas' views of the forge master is that of indifference and little in the way of respect. His crafts are useless. Swords, guns...weapons of murder and chaos. It would be better for those things never to exist at all, and if they must exist as a necessary evil, then they must be kept locked away so that there is only one, obviously her, responsible person looking after them.
Azoth: "Loathsome creature. Chaotic and inciter of rebellion."
If there is a god Nefas hates, it's Azoth. She has nothing but disdain and hate for him and his actions. A threat to the unity of the whole, as they say. She would want nothing more than to end him permanently in some fashion. The Lady of the Deep accepts most willing souls, but there are those that even it would reject unless willing...
Therelon, Keeper of Knowledge: "Amusing creature. Thirst for knowledge is welcome. Curiosity and knowledge are respectable pursuits. But he seeks too much. The Unknown is Unknown for a reason."
Nefas respects him, as she views the pursuit of knowledge as a respectable pursuit. However, she also views him as foolish. He seeks things one shouldn't. The deep, dark, abyss known as the Deep is one such place that holds some eldritch truths that could drive some mad from it.
Chinasa the Pallid: "Curious. We are similar...but his light is something foreign to I."
Nefas sees Chinasa as a bit of a curiosity. Where he is light, she could be argued to be the soothing, melodic, dark that draws all to its haunting and melodic depths. While she doesn't hate him, however, she also doesn't seem to be overly fond of him.
Tarthus, The three faced Lord: "Death? Incomprehensible thing. Should it appear in the Deep, we will ask it to leave. I do not hate him, but he has taken many children from me. I refuse to lose more..."
Above all, Nefas doesn't understand Tarthus. She understands the concepts of death - her children die all the time. She doesn't understand how such a being is necessary, and why such acts as dying are necessary. She doesn't hate him, in fact she rather likes him. Many likely do not understand him, and hate him because of it, and she pity's his existence. Perhaps if he would agree never to reap the souls of her children, he could have a home within the Deep....
Aylin the Huntress: "Moonlit Hunter. Respect, but little interaction with."
Due to having little interaction with the Huntress, Nefas has very little opinion of her. She respects her on some level, but ultimately doesn't know enough to form a strong opinion with.
Ash the Changing: "Deceiver! Worse than the loathed Seer. Betrayer of the Angels and the Deep! Death would be too good for you. The Deep demands blood and your screams of forgiveness!"
Needless to say, aside from the Seer, Ash is probably Nefas' most hated entity. The shapeshifter does nothing but betray their so called allies. His betrayal and ultimate alignment with the demons cause her no end of grief. Many of her children likely died because of him.
Zhystkrexas the Corrupter "Curious. I am curious. The desires he gives humans fascinates. But wary. Wary, for he seeks to take my children."
One might assume Nefas loathes and hates Zhystkrexas, but she has mixed feelings about him in general. She herself is curious about his goals and methods. He brings out peoples desires, while she placates those desires and makes them content to serve the perceived greater good. However, she is also wary of him as he likely seeks to try and take her children from her. While she is certain such a thing is quite impossible, as betraying the Deep is no small feat once one is a part of it, one must be wary when dealing with such an entity.
However, in the end she would likely chose to kill him and end his corruption if ever possible, as strong individual desires such as those will bring nothing but chaos in the long run.
Kilgarrah, The Honorable "Honorable. Chivalrous. As any man and loyal solider should be. Neither loathes me or my children, even if he does not fully approve. Respect for the dragon. If ever was a time when he would join the Deep...I would accept without hesitation."
Nefas has nothing but respect for the Dragon. He is everything she believes a good human, a good soul should be. Loyal, unyielding, and above all devoted. Some might say she may be a little fond of him, even. The only thing about him she dislikes, is his warrior persona. But such is a necessary evil, in reality, and it would make him a much lesser being if he didn't.
Kalikmalo Bramah Thalmen "Disdain. Hatred. Some confusion. Do not like. Agent of change. Wary and somewhat fearful."
Nefas is in fact, somewhat wary and fearful of this titan. While she dislikes such emotions, as they are everything that goes against the Deep and her own personal philosophy, there can't be any denying that she is. She tries to keep her interaction with him minimal, and if she must, she will deal with him herself. He is far to dangerous for her children to deal directly with.
Other Notes:
~Mostly to clarify a few things~ -Being turned by the Deep is neither a certain thing, nor an instant thing. Only those willing will be turned immediately. There are many cures out there, such as seeking the protection of another god, and those strong of will, mind, and body will always resist the effects, and in some cases can shrug them off completely.
-Deep Creatures come in many shapes in sizes. Many humans retain a human like appearance, at least on the surface. It is quite difficult to tell some of them apart from a normal human sometimes. Additionally, some are indeed eldritch abominations, beasts, and other creatures.
-Being corrupted must happen directly. Either by being turned by Nefas herself, or some other creature of the deep that has the ability to do such a thing through some manner.
-Anything at all can be corrupted and turned into a creature of the Deep, so long as it has a 'soul'. She has never tried it on another god, for she had no reason too. After all, they would likely be immune, and she doubts any would willingly give themselves to her.
-Despite her commanding things of the 'arcane nature' she's not going to be beating any master mage in a showdown of magic. While she is fairly decent with things of the pure arcane and cosmic sort, she isn't going to be outclassing any master mage.
-Likewise, she is never going to beat another god in terms of pure strength. She is more of a 'jack of all trades, master of none' in terms of skill set.
-Nefas is in fact, neither Male nor Female. Take that as you will.
-Has trouble communicating with humans at times. Either because she is in fact, mute, or any form of communication with her is difficult for humans to do.
-Her actual motivations are sketchy at best. She says she wants nothing but peace for her people, but sometimes...her actions are questionable.
-It should be noted, that creatures of the Deep are not mindless husks some might assume. They still have free will, personalities, and things like that. Most of which, are similar or the same as when they were human. However, they can never disobey a direct command from their queen, and any attempts to turn against her will be almost futile.
-Fun fact! 'Nefas' is Latin for 'Wrong' and 'Sen' is simply 'Sin', replacing the I with an E.
Nerine, Voice of the Forests, Faerie of the Woods.
"Oh come on. A little nap in the shade with me couldn't hurt, could it? Tsk. Don't worry! It's not going to hurt a bit...we'll be getting very intimate either way...heh...not like you're going to be leaving...so just relax...sleep for a bit..."
Name: Nerine
Description: Physical: Nerine has three different forms she has been known to take, though she more or less doesn't use her human-esque appearance unless she must, and her Colossi form is only for combat purposes. Fighting other gods and other creatures of size where her usual form can't handle it.
Her first form, is that of a humanoid form, encased in bark with green, small plant life growing upon her body. She stands at a fairly average five foot seven, with somewhat disproportionately long arms and hands, that end in sharp, claws. Bright orange, fall colored leaf eyes shine brightly beneath a bark encasement. She lacks any nose, and the mouth is only for decoration, as she has no need to actually move it to vocalize.
Her colossi form is a massive form she is unable to use unless she is at a fairly high level of power, and has been basking in the nourishment of her forest. Standing at a gargantuan height that dwarfs most men and even gods, she fuses barks of trees together to achieve this form. Trees grow from the roots growing out of it, and she is mostly unable to speak in this form as it takes great concentration and power to hold for any great number of time. Its bark is almost completely impenetrable to steel arms and other weapons, though is obviously weak to fire and things that burn.
And her last, least used form she will only ever use to 'play' around with humans, mortals, and other gods, is her more or less human form. Elfin in appearance, It is attractive to most, to say the least. She stands at a five foot seven, Her hair, changes colors as the seasons do. In the spring, it is a rich vibrant brown. In the Summer, a bright blonde, and in the fall a beautiful shade of red, as though she had a hair full of leaves. In the winter, a bright white, signaling the bareness of the forests. She has vibrant blue eyes, and most often is seen wearing a dress of the color red. She can't hider her true nature completely, however.
Bark is always somewhere visible on her body. Most often, she has clawed gauntlets adorning her hands.
Psychological: To say Nerine is evil or bad, is completely false in every sense of the word. If one were to ask, she'd call herself a free spirit who simply likes doing whatever the hell she wants too. Whimsical and Infinitely playful, would be the perfect words to describe this little forest dryad as. She doesn't take much seriously, and more often than not either jokes around, or plays, even with her so called opponents. Calling her completely good though, would be equally as false.
She has on more than one occasion, lured a human deep into her forests...only to put them to eternal sleep within one of her trees. Many forest to this day still have some of her victims bones tucked inside of them, as nourishment for the forests she so dearly loves. Of course, the only reason she'd ever do this is because of either boredom, or you've offended the forest in some manner. She's got a bit of a mouth on her, and likes poking fun at people, and often times is very sarcastic in manner. Well, unless she's flirting with you (Which she will). She is, however, honest and if asked about something she will likely give her honest opinion, and to those the forest and her call allies, she will likely help in any way she can despite her personal opinion.
Powers: As far as power in the physical realm goes, Nerine is much stronger than even the other gods might give her credit for. Her stamina in battle (and other things) is almost unending while her body is as strong and durable as any ancient oak, able to weather blows that would fell another. She is able to crush a boulder with even her bare hands, should she have too. Her skin is as durable as the bark on an oak tree, making for an excellent natural armor.
In the realm of magic and otherworldly abilities, she promotes the growth of forests. Anywhere there is suitable nutrients (Such as fertile soil, water, and seeds) She can't create something from nothing, however, and can't restore that which was destroyed. That's not going to stop her from growing the forests regardless, however. Just her presence causes already living plants to grow at a much faster rate. Indeed, when she's out in a forest, little tufts of grass seem to always grow from under her feet, leaving a trail for some curious, lucky (or unlucky) human to follow. Aside from this, she can accelerate their growth to impossible levels if she is strong enough. In the past, she created an entire forest almost in one night, engulfing an entire human town in the process.
As a dryad, she also has minor control over the plants and animals within her forests. She is able to speak with beasts, and the trees themselves. The trees listen quite closely to things that are happening, and the secrets they tell are quite intriguing. Combat wise, she can ensnare enemies with vines and plants, slowing them down or even have the very roots of the trees attack her foes.
Original tribe: In the past, she had a small tribe of Shamans. They worshiped her, though a fickle somewhat...difficult and whimsical goddess she may have been. They watched after the forest, preventing the intrusion of any non faithful without the orders of Nerine. They were experts in using nature to fight, and communing with the forest and spirits and borrowing boons from the trees to give them strength in a fight. Most, swore a life long oath to a forest animal and using ancient magic bound their souls together. During the war, they fought on the front lines and used their animal allies to devastate their foes, turning the very forest against the Angels.
When Nerine was imprisoned, her people slowly disappeared into the forests. Today, they are known as witches, outcasts, and otherwise folk one should not associate with. Speaking with animals is of course, an obviously demonic trait.
Faction: Some might assume she would have sided with the Angels in the conflict...but no. About as soon as the conflict started, she joined with the Demons. Many assumed as whimsical seeming and good natured as she was, she would soon join the angels, but that never happened. Her reasons?
She had seen what mortals could do to the forests left unchecked, and though she herself was on the fence about it, after discussing things over with her people, she made the decision to join the demons. Eventually, she was defeated and imprisoned in the pit. Iron, metal chains restraining her in an iron cell, designed so that no earth, soil, or plants could never find their way into it.
Anecdotes: -Fought for the demons. -Her home forest was mostly destroyed. Today, it's home to a thriving little town that she would very much like to reclaim as her own, even if it means driving out the mortals.
Opinions:
Eyra the Seer: "Meh, old hag. She's boring. She was cute once, but now she's probably got more wrinkles than an elephant."
Kinion the fool: "Has he ever actually told a funny joke? I don't remember."
Wu Dan: "Old hag. Him and Eyra should just get hitched already."
Nod: "He's a bit violent, and has destroyed forests a lot. I hope he chokes on a hairball. Pretty strong though. Wouldn't mind going a round with him."
Kozz: "Ehh...I dunno? Smelly and sweaty? Not my thing."
Azoth: "Dunno him all that well...have I ever even met him?"
Therelon: "hasn't hurt my forest, so I don't have a problem with him. Wonder if he'd be up for a late night stroll through the forest?"
Chinasa: "Don't know him."
Tarthus: "I hope he keeps his hands off of my forest, or I will have to get violent."
Aylin: "I like her. She's cute and she respects the forest."
Ash: "Eh...annoying. Don't like him...them...it a whole lot."
Zhystkrexas: "If he even comes near my forest, I'll kill him."
Kilgarrah, The Honorable: "Honorable? I mean, I'd never betray anyone but if you're gonna fight you gotta fight to win!"
Nefas Sen: "Haven't met her much, but her children aren't right...they make me uneasy."
Zaphesto: "Do Skeletons even have anything to do...that with?"
Akirakon: "Eh...dunno much about him."
Grindelhooke: "He's adorable, and he will be my faithful servant."
Kalikmalo: "Hmm...Not really sure what to make of him. He destroys, and I don't like people destroying my forests, but sometimes to make a new forest you have to destroy the old one. He's not bad at least, I don't think. More importantly though...if he changes his size or something, does all of him change too?"
The Dreamweaver - The Starlit Prince - Muse of the Void
Description
To gaze upon the the nightly heavens is to gaze upon the work of the Starlit Prince. To close ones eyes upon their rest is to sit as the wondrous feast of the Dreamweaver. To find the clergy of the Muse, one need look nor further than the mother telling a child their bedtime story, or the hushed whispers of friends around a crackling campfire.
For Estoil is not a Lord of Man. Though he takes their form, he is as much a creature of the world before the Dawn as he is of the Children; primitive, untamed and unfettered. He is the half-imagined shadow on the waters of the still lake at night; the glimpse of something out of the corner of your eyes at dusk, the hammering of the heart as fear... as passion... and excitement coursed through the veins as night fell upon the young world.
From him came the First Story. And it will continue so long as there are stars and people to look upon them.
Powers
As the Dreamweaver, his tasks are many, for the Domain of Sleep is but a simple blink to enter. He steps through the dreamland like a man would walk through his home, offering guidance to those in distress, changing the Dreaming to his whim, and inspiring any who caught his eye. With the faintest gesture, he can send all but the strongest willed mortals to slumber, often preferring this method than direct combat.
Though certainly an skilled and able combatant, proving more than a match to any number of mortal opponents by himself if the situation requires with his divine weapon, Ensis, the sword constellation, flitting around his opponent like a formless shadow.
The the times of Old, Estoil would honor those of his choosing by placing their fascimile in the heavens. Theses constellations; powerful creatures or mighty heroes composed of celestial starstuff, still follow their creator, even after his betrayal, and will come at his call.
Original tribe
The Illu - Millenia before the height of the Etruscans, when Man was young and dwelled within cave and plain and forest, were the Illu. It was from their tribe that came the first story. A story that grew into fables, and then legends, and then histories.
They would prick the bud of the poppy and drink it's milk. They would slumber and dream, and the milk would show them Estoil and he would walk amongst them. He sat at their fires as the elders told the story of their people. He would watch with the children as the shadows flickered on the cave walls as the Raven stole sparks from the sun, as the Fox tricked the Wolf for his food, and as the Snake slithered its way to the Great Water. For centuries did the Illu live, and knew this world to be but a phantom. For when the harvest failed, or when the stag too elusive, in their sleep lay the lands of Bliss and Plenty. And so slowly did each new generation each dreaded the morn and saught the night, if but to gaze upon the stars and tell stories and slumber to paradise.
Time would consume them and their complacency. Tribes became kingdoms, kingdoms became empires, and the Illu fells behind in advancements from their complacency, until their numbers were pulled into the Etruscans. Though it is whispered that within certain regions there still exists Cults of the Star... groups who still drink the milk of the poppy and gaze upon the constellation above, waiting for the day the stars will aid their prince in his escape.
Faction
Demons - Despite the fanatical whispered teachings of the Illeun descendants, the Etruscans tell a different story. To the descendents of Erya's chosen there is but one truth, and they see through eyes that are not blinded by milk of the poppy.
It is said that when the War of the Dawn began, there was a Child who Served. He guarded the dreams of the mortals and saught to drive back the darkness with lights of purity. When he stepped upon the battlefield, he was joined by the heroes and creatures of old, who fought alongside Man. With the other Children, they struck blow after blow to the Demons of Old. And when the mortals shouted thanks and praise, the Prince was glad, for they were all his children.
But a Child of Shadow came to him and whispered sweet promises in his ears. Long into the night were words traded and sold, until at last the Star that had shone so brightly in the heavens Fell into the Darkness. For the Prince who thought himself a god was as human as the mortals he watched over, and within his heart of hearts there lurked desire and envy.
The mortals gave thanks and praise to the Light, but was it not He who lit the darkness? Was it not He who stood sentinel over their sleep? Did he not fill the ranks of their armies with wonders of yore, bringing the very heavens to fight so they did not? He, who stood greater than any amongst his brethren, yet was treated as their equal?
No.
With his Child of Nightmare cradled to his breast, the Prince turned on his Brethren. The heroes immortalized in the stars turned on their allies, and no man was safe behind the walls of sleep. He need not aid the Demons directly; his betrayal was more than enough. But he would wear the Crown of Stars - And he alone would rule.
Anecdotes
Before the Dawn, there was the Night. For how long I don’t know – how can the unborn know of time? I waited in the blackness, stirred by unknown hand, blending, changing, from man to beast, then back to man again. Never thinking of the future, nor of a past that never was, but, waiting.
Then as humankind became aware, I was born. And it was somewhere within this time of shadows and unknowing that Man first looked up at the night sky, and he gazed in wonder for the first time. Born of their need for more than food, for wanting, no, needing something to help them find their purpose. And in that cave, lit only by one flame, plants became colour, and colour became a vision, and that vision became a God – and I became that God. Borne from the wishes of the simplest of minds it was my destiny to stay, and protect.
So, at first I ruled as the Star and the Story. Invoked with blood and sweat and the chase. I followed the hunt through the forest and it was I who bent the branches to scratch and tear and cut. For without effort, what is the point of life? Without the story, what would feed the spirit? Without need, all life would die. So, their sorcerer stood in bloodied skins, and raised his hands and called my name. Then he fell to the ground and skin became fur, and feet became hooves. Blood gushed as my antlers pushed through bone and sinew to arise with a thousand tines, one for each of the moving lights within the blackness above. Stood before them I held my head proud and tall – none met my gaze, they just breathed the stench of death and the copper taint in the blood filled air. They breathed this and it filled them with the hunger, ready to face their own death in order to feed the tribe. Drums suddenly filled the silence, and the hunters danced my dance, invoking my spirit into there bodies. Giving me more life, and more power. Until, proud in full glory I screamed my name again and again, and they span around the fire, their throats calling with the guttural call of their ancestors, their triumps, their defeats, their story, telling those spirits that the tribe must live! And it must die for the tribe! Then in an instant they were gone – as the drums suddenly stopped they disappeared into the forest without a sound.
So I waited and watched and then in the shadow I heard the cries of the World. For out of the Shadow stepped a threat to Creation, and it came thrice in quick succession. So I went back into the Light and was reborn, not once, but within the hearts of millions. I picked up a sword within every hand and crossed the Walls of Sleep to protect my Children from darkness. And I screamed victory with every death on every day, caked with blood, sweat and mud. I was reborn again, and again, within each brave heart, and I choked on blood, and felt the explosion of flesh and bone, but I kept going until the threat had passed.
I've waited long enough for them all to come around. And though my siblings may plead and threaten, the stars will not fade quietly. And all will know the wonder of my dark and jeweled sky when all the world is wrapped in an eternal lullaby.
Hence our Lord and our Servant, that corpse of old
Will surely return by dawn
~Varenci poem citing Zaphesto's many deaths and resurrections
Banned by the Etruscan Ministry of Propaganda in 276
DESCRIPTION
Physical Zaphesto the Servant is, put simply, an animate skeleton. His texture is surprisingly smooth for the reanimated undead, and clear of any dark blemishes one might expect from a decaying corpse. He tends to decorate himself with a fancy suit and top hat, demonstrating his Varenci heritage and international affluence. Considering his line of work as a war general as well as a merchant, Zaphesto won't get too upset if circumstance results in his outfit getting damaged or mishapen - however, he will try to keep himself as well-dressed as possible, with the occasional exception where he will walk stark naked. In order to hide his appearance from others (so that he may walk among the mortals without creating too much suspicion or panic), he will sometimes wrap his head in a cloth and use goggles for visibility (think "Invisible Man"-esque appearance). He carries with him a nice cane that conceals a sharp blade to be used as a last-resort in personal combat. The cane itself is a simple, black-and-purple stick with a skull-shaped crest at the top near the handle. Twisting the handle around will release the bottom end of the cane to reveal the blade.
Psychological Above all else, Zaphesto always sticks with his core belief: he is not a rich man nor a wealthy tyrant, but simply a public servant - hence the title. He sees the mortals around him not as tools or pawns, but as brethren of a different birth. When he is not organizing trade missions or providing tactical and reinforcement support for a battle, he enjoys spending his time providing assistance to others, most often through comic relief (even if his jokes end up being at the expense of his reputation). If one of his people are in need, he will do everything in his power to aid them - so long as it does not hurt the people as a whole. Though he may pout and act frustrated at times, it takes a sincere effort to legitimately hurt him emotionally.
In the end, Zaphesto is just a jolly old skeleton with a knack for trade and battle.
POWERS
As his appearance suggests, Zaphesto is a necromancer. He may summon dead matter to act as an extension of his will; this can range from bone shards, to full-scale corpses, to broken branches and decaying vines.
In physical combat, Zaphesto can manage to remain alive until his skull is destroyed completely - and even then, his remaining bones may go berserk for a second, as a chicken's body flails after its head is blown off. His frame is not particularly strong, but given his loose nature as a skeleton he can be quite nimble and reflexive. Using his cane, he may quickly strike a blow or leave a gash across his foes if they get too close.
ORIGINAL TRIBE
Zaphesto was originally the head of the Varenci tribe (pronounced Vuh-rehn-chee) along the southern coasts of Xochimilia. The tribe's culture and societal structure relied heavily on two things: the use of undead corpses as manual labour, and the exchange of resources between Varenco (pronounced Vuh-rehn-choh) and other villages along the coastline. The usage of corpses to take over the most difficult of tasks left room for the Varenci to expand on their culture, their sciences, their philosophies, and so on. Add to that the fact that their village was coincidentally founded right beside a large deposit of minerals and jewels, and you'll find that the city-state flourished like no other in the region.
Initially, the Varenci were surrounded by numerous warlords and conflicts, leaving the city itself subject to raids and attacks by their neighbours. However, it didn't take long for Zaphesto to assert his village's military prowess by developing a combat technique: strike quickly, reanimate the fallen corpses of enemies and friends, and add the undead as soldiers to your army until the enemy is overwhelmed by your forces. This method was successful enough to not only ward off warlords and pirate fleets alike, but in fact led to the creation of a "safe zone", where villages and settlements would be under the protection of Zaphesto and the Varenci. Thus a bustling city-state, full of internal trade and blossoming culture was born.
In order to prevent his people from becoming lazy from the lack of hard labour, Zaphesto instilled a strict lifestyle upon his people. Upon reaching adulthood, all males in Varenco were to perform either one year of hard labour among the undead, two years of volunteer service among the other settlements within Zaphesto's protection, or three years of trading beyond the region with foreign tribes and city-states. Upon completing this service, all citizens - male and female alike - were expected to perform a week's worth of volunteer service for the city-state every year. Food, while in plenty, was always rationed so as to prevent obesity and decadence - citizens were given more than enough, but never far too much.
Despite this strict lifestyle, however, the city-state and her protected villages always saved one day for a celebration of Varenco and its undead leader. This day was colloquially known as the Festival of the Skull, in which food rations were dropped for the day and in which dances and songs were held in the streets.
To the Varenci, death was not looked upon as a loss, but as a gain; the spirit of the departed was to find eternal peace, while the body would remain as a testament to the city by acting as a tool or a weapon. Oddly enough, famines and plagues were looked upon as times of golden ages for the Varenci; more deaths meant more civil servants.
Many merchants would depart from Varenco and travel across the world, bringing goods and stories with them. Tales of Zaphesto's festivals and conquests became known across the region, and even in the mountains to the north men knew of the jolly necromancer along the ancient coastline. This sudden rise in popularity, of course, was only a good thing in the eyes of Zaphesto; the more people to hear his crude jokes regarding death and hip bones, the better!
The turning point in Varenci history came when many other turning points in world history came: the war between the Children of Aton. Despite his care for mortals, Zaphesto initially chose neutrality so as to maintain the lifestyles of his people. However, after a naval attack upon his territory was revealed to be a Demon plot, Zaphesto immediately sided with the Angels, putting all of his resources and manpower into the war effort. This left the city-state exhausted by the end of the war, resulting in the unavoidable splitting off of fringe independence movements. Zaphesto himself planned on returning home and reasserting his undead army's dominance in the region; however, he never made it back home.
With the disappearance of the necromancer, the Varenco city-state exploded, with warlords of old resuming the conquests of their forefathers, all put down by a warmaster that was no longer around. The city itself withstood numerous assaults and attempts at raids, thanks to the strict disciplinary lifestyle adopted by the villagers, but at the same time it lost practically all of its territory.
This did not immediately spell the end of Varenco and the Varenci, however; large swathes of resources lay just outside the city walls, after all, and the city merchants were happy to spread the wealth across the world, which in the wake of mass disappearances from important leaders seemed to be on the verge of collapse.
The city remained an economic (and partly a military) powerhouse well into the 2nd century after Zaphesto's disappearance, until the Etruscans began to wage a war of attrition against the villagers. While the economic and cultural influence of the Varenci was among the strongest resistance to Etruscan conquests in the region, eventually the city fell when Etruscan warships entered the city's harbour, leaving a massive army to pillage everything the city had to offer. Many Varenci fought valiantly and were slain, their bodies never to be reanimated; others fled to friendly neighbours, only for the neighbours to turn on them out of fear of what the Etruscans might to do the friends of the Varenci. A few merchants managed to sail away, predicting a terrible disaster just days later - but these merchants and their descendants were rarely found on the mainland, and though their accents and customs gave their heritage away, they hid their names and their memories from most others.
To this day, Varenco has been rebuilt and place directly under the rule of the Etruscans, though time and time again various rebellions and insurrections have cropped up and been stamped out. Yet even today, there are whispers of the day where the city's beloved leader, Zaphesto, will return, and the reign of the skull will resume once more across the land....
FACTION
Initially, despite his love for mortals, Zaphesto opted for a neutral approach to the war; he would offer aid and support to the Angels, while keeping himself and his city protected and, on the whole, neutral. This changed, however, when an unknown fleet claiming to be the Angels set siege to the city via the coastline. Unbeknownst to the attackers, however, Zaphesto was crafty; he managed to use one of the fallen enemies as a spy, listening into the conversation of the attacking captain. As it happened, the fleet did not belong to the Angels, but to the Demons who sought to provoke Zaphesto into joining their side. Outraged, yet not at all surprised, Zaphesto ordered the complete conversion of the enemy fleet to his undead military, and declared the whole of Varenco as dedicated to the Angel war effort.
Over the course of the war, Zaphesto met with numerous other demigods and helped strategize offensives, particularly offering his undead capabilities to the war effort. It was with the funds of his own city that he helped arrange for the Pit to be constructed - and once the trickery of the Seer happened, he found himself more angry and more hurt than ever.
ANECDOTES
One thing to be wary of when it comes to Zaphesto: beware his puns. They are neither humerus nor handy.
OPINIONS
"Death is too good for her."
"Sounds like a great drinking buddy. Probably."
"An excellent martial artist. His discipline is to be commended, and a lesson from which my people should learn. Still, I find it unfortunate that the monk seems to be more focused on spirituality rather than the very real troubles of the world around him."
"Look, I've got no ill-will against the guy, but the bloody thing hates everything about me - my beliefs, my 'magic tricks', and worst of all, my suit and hat! If you were me, you'd be staying as far away from him as possible, too."
"I don't blame him for the Pit - part of its construction rests on me, after all. Otherwise, you won't meet anyone as knowledgeable as this bird."
"Honestly? I know nobody else will say it, but I'll say it anyways - he's terrifying. He could probably destroy my entire city-state empire if he wanted to - well, assuming I wasn't around to protect it. Either way, he needs to be watched."
"My people respect death, and as such they respect him. Personally, he's an okay guy-conglomerate-trinity-thing, I s'pose."
"If Chinasa needs to be watched, this guy needs to be followed everywhere. He's a slippery one, that guy - and I fear he may have just as much mischief at his core as the Fool."
"I don't know much about him aside from his craft - though I can assure you he is unrivaled in his field."
"Where Azoth is slippery as a metaphor, this guy can literally be slippery, so I'd keep an eye on him like the rest."
"Much like Kozz, she is the apex of her talent. I doubt many of my legions could do combat with her and live to tell the tale."
"He once made a deal with my merchants that crashed Varenco's economy for two weeks! This...thing is completely untrustworthy, and any sighting of him is a bad omen. Let me put it this way: this guy is the reason I never questioned the Pit project."
"Well...he's a dragon. That should say enough about him."
"Lots of names, lots of troubles, little to no words about either. From this, I will assume that he is either the saviour incarnate and will restore Aton to the world, or is a ticking timebomb waiting to go off and destroy everything around him."
"Many of my best merchants and sailors have been lost to her so-called 'children'. I know my limits, however, and will not let a grudge lead to all-out war with the mother of abominations."
"A traitor and a creeper. I'd rather my city dream of blackness than of this one."
"Nice guy, though he really shouldn't have joined with the other guys. Maybe his heart is misplaced - nothing a little comic relief can't fix, of course."
DESCRIPTION
Physical Grindelhooke the Tempest is generally made of rocks, plants, and mosses, forming a sort of golem-shaped figure. He generally prefers to be made up of all three of those, but will settle for just one or two if circumstance prevents it. No matter how war-torn or old he may grow, Grindelhooke will always remain smooth and comforting to the touch, and at the "head" he will always form two small indentations that act as gentle eyes.
Psychological Grindelhooke is, at heart, a kind soul that seeks only to make sure that nature is indeed nurtured and protected. He will help the sick, guide the lost, care for the young and old alike, no matter what the expense to himself. However, his duty as a restorer of nature can override his kindheartedness, as shown in the war between the Children of Aton. To him, there is nothing more pure than nature itself, and to see that disrupted is to see the corruption of all life.
POWERS
Grindelhooke is a restorer of nature. This means that anything corrupted or brought to ruin in the wild may be revitalized and given a second chance by Grindelhooke's touch. This mostly applies to forestry and small wildlife, however he can provide this ability to fallen predators and seafaring creatures as well, if he is given the chance to do so. While he can also use this power to combat pollution and environmental destruction, his capabilities in that regard are much more limited.
His abilities don't stop there, however. In times of crisis, he can summon great swarms of flora and fauna to come to his or somebody else's aid, acting either as an attacking army of wildlife, or as a rescue organization made out of pure nature.
He is also able to increase his size and strength by "growing" the flora and fauna on his body, and can accumulate more mass by acquiring more stone to place into his body. No matter what his size, Grindelhooke can use the stones of his body to withstand many a blow. Much like Zaphesto, he is killed whenever the stone acting as his head gets crushed.
ORIGINAL TRIBE
Similar to Akirakon, Grindelhooke's tribe disappeared long, long ago - but in a very different fashion. These druids of antiquity, instead of dying from exhaustion or pleasure, guided their leader across the land, and upon showing the restorer his nature as just that, they dispersed and integrated with other tribes, never to be heard from again.
Again, much like Akirakon, Grindelhooke honours these druids in his own way, usually by leaving a small insignia of the druids in places he has purified and restored.
FACTION
At the outset of the war, many were expecting the meek and kindly Grindelhooke to side with the Angels; what else would someone as goodhearted as the restorer of nature do?
To everyone's shock, Grindelhooke immediately joined with the Demons.
Though the crowd certainly wasn't his favourite, and though he never approved of the faction's actions, Grindelhooke stayed with the Demons based on a belief he had developed over time: mortals were doing nothing but destroying nature. If they were not removed, they would have annihilated the realm itself! If the protectors of the forests and seas were not going to act in defense of nature, then that left him - little ol' Grindelhooke - to do the job instead.
Grindelhooke took charge on the battlefield as a commander of forces, sending waves of rabid animals and walking trees to attack foot soldiers, as well as even a few Children of Aton themselves. However, eventually his army of life was defeated by Zaphesto's armies of the undead at the Battle of Krig's Peak. Grindelhooke remained in captivity until the creation of the Pit, in which he was sealed away, leaving the world outside to rot and die.
ANECDOTES
Grindelhooke often says that he will speak with "faeries", though he has yet to show any evidence of this. He may yet have gone mad from constantly having to correct to pollutive problems of mortals - though this is more than likely just an exaggeration by Grindelhooke's few enemies.
OPINIONS
"For what it's worth, she was a very capable opponent. That being said, she must pay for robbing nature of its caretaker."
"A very silly man. I can't make any sense of him."
"He has shown much self-control and self-actualization, which is deserving of high respect. Still, it couldn't hurt for him to take notice of nature around him now and then."
"A very violent individual. He destroys forests all the time, and has drawn my ire countless times. Maybe one day he'll get himself killed for good, and that'll be the end of it."
"He spends most of his time studying out in the desert, so I suppose he isn't a problem. Perhaps his vast understanding of the world will give way to a respect for nature...?"
"I do not know this one well enough to make an opinion."
"Death strikes within nature all of the time - that is the way of life, after all. But when the child appears and casts a fire across a field of flowers or trees - that I cannot stand for."
"I fear what this one intended to do, upon our planned victory against the Angels. He is not too kind."
"While I understand his profession to be his signature trait, the acquisition of metals from beneath forests can tend to ruin an entire ecosystem. I would advise he uses different materials for his forging."
"I know even less about this individual than the Chinasa one."
"At times she has overstepped her boundaries, and at other times she has been honourable. She walks a fine line that may one day test my patience."
"Of all the things I did with the Demons, only my association with this one is what I regret."
"The dragon appears to be sensible, yes, but his role assisting the Angels, I fear, has drawn a hatred towards me. I do not hope that is the case, along with the rest of the Angels."
"Whatever their powers are from, they are not of this world, I believe."
"No matter how crudely she designs them, her children are technically a part of nature, and as such I will respect and assist them. It was disappointing that she did not stand up for nature when it came to our most recent conflict."
"There is something about this one that is highly off-putting. Perhaps it is his human form?"
"An excellent adversary on the battlefield, however I cannot condemn his necromancy. That which is dead should remain as such - its time has passed."
Aethelred of Anglonia/"The Sparrow Lord"/"The Shadow Soldier"
Description
Aethelred is perhaps the most silent of all the Children, choosing neither to interact with or engage any of his counterparts. His face is somewhat vague, as if the skin itself doesn't want to be seen. The dark cloak he always wears seems to not be made of any earthly fabric, and it isn't entirely clear that he has a body at all. At one moment he can be as opaque and fleshy as a human. In the blink of an eye, his form is impossible. This troubling appearance does not at all represent his true nature however. Possessed with a diehard loyalty for the Angel cause, he was an unsung warrior fighting on the front lines, seeking no rewards and indeed receiving none. Fleet-footed and knowledgable of the land, he was employed as a ranger in the war between the Demons and Angels.
His clothing is black, his skin either a deep pink or deathly white. His eyes are a piercing gray, forfeiting nothing as they stare coldly, emotionlessly at whomever should approach him. He is quiet and reserved, intentionally avoiding contact with anyone if he can. When he does speak--which is rare--it is in broken phrases somewhat difficult to understand. Cryptic and reclusive, he has no close bonds with any of the other Children. Choosing to fight for the side he sees as morally right, Aethelred is thoroughly disillusioned by Eyra's betrayal, and he has become even more distant as a result. He views others only as vessels to accomplish his higher goals, and as such can be somewhat dismissive of hatred or love.
His bow is his most prized possession. It is crafted from the finest yew branch that Nerine will allow him, equipped with the finest arrows Kozz can make. He is an excellent shot, though certainly imperfect. This bow is often slung over his shoulder, as he is somewhat unrealistically paranoid it would be stolen.
Powers
Aethelred has personally resolved to use his powers as infrequently as possible. As such he usually equips himself with a bow made of yew and ordinary--though well-made--arrows. If pushed, however, Aethelred is capable of dissolving into shadow, traveling into a parallel realm and "ghosting." He is nearly untraceable when he is doing this, and should he find it necessary, he could pull someone into this dimension and "leave" them there, essentially wiping their physical being from existence (were he to perform this trick on one of the Children, however, he would merely dispose of their body, as Children are immortal). But as mentioned before, he only does this in the most dire of circumstances, preferring instead to use his own mortal abilities to sneak around the battlefield and loose well-aimed volleys.
Original Tribe
Aethelred is the original member the Anglonian tribe that inhabited modern Etruscia until summarily assimilated by the Etruscans. A small tribe that valued flexible warfare and mobility, the descendants of this tribe typically fill the archer ranks of the Etruscan military, proving to be dead-eye shots with a bow. Anglonians as a general rule felt no pain in being subjugated, as they, by nature, lacked central authority. Aethelred, having founded the tribe, left the members to flesh out a culture while he occasionally assumed the war chief title.
The closest thing Anglonians have to a capital is the small town of Gewisse, made famous for its archery school and not much else. Following the decline of the Gebhards (who were an oligarchical society that attempted to centralize the Anglonian realm), the Anglonians engaged in a diaspora across Etruscia, eventually settling in small, sparsely-populated pockets of the province as farmers, soldiers, doctors, and other serving jobs.
The Anglonians are fiercely loyal to whomever they serve, but should their former masters be vanquished, they will not find it strange at all to quickly bow to their new conquerors. It is through this period of submissiveness that many aspects of Anglonian culture remain. Anglonians speak their own language unlike any other tribe, and Anglonian children typically learn Anglonian traditions before Etruscan traditions. By the time of The Betrayal, Anglonians had fought long and hard on the Angels' behalf. The seizure and incarceration of their founder had little effect on Anglonian life, as Aethelred had never been revered as a leader or even as a creator.
Faction
Angel. Aethelred fought for the Angels and asked no reward. He views the Angel cause as inherently good, but Eyra as an inherently wrong leader for that cause.
Anecdotes
Aethelred is not accustomed to feel, so when The Betrayal brought legitimate feelings of hurt, despair, confusion, and anger, he was overwhelmed with what to do with them. He was steadfastly loyal to Eyra in the wars, and his loyalty being repaid with betrayal is the ultimate disillusionment. As such, by the time the seal holding his soul at bay breaks, he very quickly escapes and makes his way unseen, away from the carnage, away from the cities, away from anyone who noticed him. He knows he will have to kill Eyra for the sake of restoring honor, but for now he must mourn.
Before the incarceration, however, Aethelred often relied on his innate ability to train birds to help him with his tasks. Frequently sent on missions that involved him taking out a priority target alone, he would take a trained falcon with him that would report whether or not a target was in its place, whether or not he had hit said target, and whether or not someone was becoming suspicious that a falcon was circling. As such he is often called "The Sparrow Lord."
Faced with the daunting task of approaching Eyra's fortress, Aethelred plans to seek out like-minded Children and perform a surgical attack, one that cannot be foreseen even by the Seer herself.
Opinions
"Fought hard for you. Didn't pay well. Never see me coming."
Aethelred views Eyra as many of the other Angels do: a scoundrel that betrayed them. Before the Betrayal he was fiercely loyal, even respectful, of the woman. Afterwards he sees eliminating her as the only way to balance honor. He does, however, respect that wit, not physicality, brought her the greatest power on Earth.
"No fool makes jokes."
Aethelred lacks interaction with Kinion--as is common with most of the Children--but from afar he is suspicious of such a wantonly deceiving individual. He keeps his distance.
"Nice poems. Wisdom thus gained."
Aethelred does not respect wisdom so much as he respects worldly cunning. The monk surprises him as someone who might possibly disrupt that formula. He sees the monk as one of the few genuinely good Children, and is subsequently impressed by the quality of his advice.
"Lion seems angry."
Aethelred finds the unholy violence of Nod against his inherent morality, and it would not be too far to say that Aethelred is unhappy that he escaped.
"Need more arrows."
Aethelred finds the Forgemaster unparalleled in the ability to make weaponry. This translates as good arrows, a good knife, and not much else.
"Shadows are my specialty."
Azoth is the idealistic target that Aethelred has been seeking for his entire existence. His desire to hunt down and catch this demon has brought him to the brink of monomania, and as such he views Azoth with a certain grim respect. Their mutual love of deception and secrecy means nothing to Aethelred, but it does mean that he is the one target Aethelred sometimes just cannot catch.
"Like birds. Like Knowledge. Like knowledgable birds."
Therelon is one of the few Children that Aethelred genuinely respects fully. The fatalist logic of Therelon's existence rings true in Aethelred as well, and his respect for birds of prey only heightens his opinion for Therelon. Somewhat daunted by the expansive "family" that Therelon claims, Aethelred instead chooses to admire Therelon as a paragon of sorts, one of the few Children that is inherently good.
"Pale skin, pale skin. Remember the sun?"
Chinasa's loyalty to his people is admirable, but the position of god he holds over them does not suit Aethelred's principles. He regards this Child with something bordering on suspicion, and chooses not to interact with him, per usual.
"Can't die. Don't fear death. Don't fear you."
Aethelred views Tarthus as one would view a criminal, but he sees death as inevitable, and a worldly representation of death as an expected aspect of the universe.
"Good shot. Good eyes."
If any one Child could be a kindred spirit to Aethelred, it would be Aylin. Their similarities in personality and actions make Aethelred feel somewhat connected to her in a way unlike any other of the Children. In this manner he actually feels uncomfortable with her, not unlike a challenged Alpha. He respects her ability with the bow and freely admits that she is a better shot, but dislikes her lack of pure loyalty. Aethelred's connection to the shadows is the only thing that convinces him that they are not, indeed, related in some way.
"Ash the Afraid."
Aethelred views the shapeshifter as he views all unpredictable Children: with high suspicion.
"Don't want much."
Aethelred hates arbitrary destruction, but at least he's blunt.
"Met a dragon once. Didn't like dragon. Fought dragon. Killed dragon. Ate dragon meat. Didn't like dragon meat."
The massive spectacle of the Dragon King brings awe to anyone, including Aethelred, but this awe is short-lived, as the spectacle begets no more than what is shown up front. Aethelred is unimpressed, but this is not new. His real respect towards Kilgarrah lies in the latter's adherence to a moral code of honor. The dragon warrior provides a somewhat novel idea for Aethelred, as he both respects and despises him. Aethelred, confused thusly, does not choose to speak with him.
"The hell is a Shakti?"
Aethelred is constantly reassessing whether or not he should be suspicious of or respect this Child. Suspicion is the safe choice.
"Smooth skin. Almost like it wasn't even there."
Aethelred only wants the best for the universe as a whole, and Nefas Sen seems no different. Yet he feels uncomfortable around her in the same way one would feel uncomfortable around a neighbor who is far too kind. Aethelred keeps his distance.
"Lovely forest you've got."
One of the few thing Aethelred reveres is the forest. The living personification of the forest gains his respect as well as his humble supplication for the occasional yew branch when his bow snaps.
"Didn't dream. Thought you could help."
Aethelred views selfish betrayal as the ultimate vice. He holds little respect for Estoil.
"Just skin and bones. Without skin."
Aethelred has nothing against Zaphesto, and his diligence in protecting his people begets respect.
"Driven mad by desperation. What a pity."
While he respects the tenacity and magnanimity of Grindelhooke, he views his supporting the Demons as the completely wrong solution to his problem. Knowing that such a loss only emphasizes an issue tenfold, Aethelred promptly began his campaign to protect the forests from human incursion.
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