[center][img]http://i.cubeupload.com/0UZWYj.png[/img]
[h2][b]The Demigod of Secrets[/b][/h2]
[color=blue]Level: 1
Might: 4

[img]http://i.imgur.com/KtaFYg7.png[/img]
[colour=black][i][b]The Timeless One, The Celestial Above, Vicegerent of Fate, Guardian of the Timeline, Master of Creation, Lord of Time[/b][/i]
Level 3 God of Creation (Time)
0.5 Might 5 Freepoints[/colour]
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[hider=Summary]
Lazarus, a powerful human, excavates out a cavern. Woops, it's full of sanity destroying monstrosities.
The excavators are killed one by one as Lazarus loses his mind.
He finds a chalice filled with divine essence, and drinks the absolute shit out of it. Like a fraternity beer chug.
Blasts out divinity, beaconing across the world of exactly where he is.
Cocoons up as his body reforms itself to handle all that divine power.
Time god shows up, yo.
Does some stuff with the gap. Grants Lazarus the knowledge of how he came to be.
Time god leaves the cocoon in its place.
Oh yeah, sanity destroying monsters got ashed away in the divine blast.
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[color=red]"Chieftain!  Chieftain! We've found something!"[/color] cried several tribesmen as they approached him. He had been expecting this. Waiting for this day. He'd made his preperations, and he steeled his resolve to meet the challenges that still stood before him. The secrets of the world would be his.

He had definitely not come unprepared, though his resources that he brought with him had long began to wane. Among these things were various relics, recovered from the paths of gods. He had rituals, the capability of minor curses. A learned man, a man who had committed much of his life learning what Galbar had to offer. He tapped upon the pure energy of the gods, though only in the smallest amount.

To go any further then he had, to go beyond the most minor of rituals, would utterly destroy his mind and body. This much he knew, and he dared not ruin his own plans on such a risky gamble. He was an opulent and imperial man, but he was not an idiot, nor a person who lived on the fast lane. He preferred a more balanced approach to his discoveries, edging the line between the safety of a dark age and the dangers of the plateau of knowledge.

Among the rest of his preparations, he had brought with him a tribe of sturdy men, to excavate the ground he had divined through rituals to hold the secrets of the gods. It had taken him years, and he'd killed and he'd taken advantage of many to get this far. They had, finally, located the ground that he expected to hold the secret he had so long been seeking.

He had always been an extravagant man. Powerful, and in high fortunes. But he tired of conventional extravagance and power. Tales suggested that somewhere within the ancient ever changing plains, laid the gateway to some fabulous and unknowable power. He moved his tribe ever onwards, focused with a singular goal in mind.

Those who starved were left behind. There was no sympathy in his goals. He pushed his tribe to the limit, creating sturdy shovels and putting them  to work as he searched the dark with relic and ritual to locate the antadeluvian stones that lurked below. Many thoughts of rebellion stirred among his impromptu workmen, but they were quickly crushed, with force, had it been necessary.

Multiple times it had been necessary.

They had dug a deep pit, mounds of the plain piling up around the hole. His fortunes began to fade, his power waning. This only hastened his ultimate goal of finding the secrets that laid below the damnable rocks of the plains. He had, during his time with the rituals, acquired the  smallest portion of some divine power. This was a requirement for the last stages of the excavation.

When his fortunes failed him, he relied on what curses and hexes he could dole out. This was a short solution, but it was long enough for his goals. Eventually, in the deepest parts of the hole, they unearthed it. A cave, of a massive diameter. The torches they brought failed to light up its full extent. This was their undoing.

Ruin had come to his tribe. That ancient cave held horrors no man should  have ever seen, and one by one his workmen were slaughtered. What slaughtered them exactly was indescribable, and there was only one thing  for certain. They were in a land of death and madness.

It was soon him alone, laughing and wailing as he ran through the cavern. His mind had long been lost. He had not been shredded by claws, nay, he had been shredded in the mind, by the claws that had taken the lives of his abused and battered tribemembers. His sanity that had lead him in a single, determined route, had been lost. But yet, the persistence  remained. He still had his goal, even if he could barely comprehend.

His every step unsettled the ancient earth. He fled through those dark stones of antiquity, the land of festering abominations. He was being chased. HE WAS BEING CHASED. Paranoia filled his mind. The horrors that had harassed him were following, predator playing with its prey. He was sure of it. It was the truth, it had to be.

He was pushing his body to the limit. He did not slow his sprint, despite the protests of his lungs and legs. His laughter and sobbing echoed throughout the realm of ancient evils and secrets. Something that had best been left buried. He did not care. He could not care. He did not have the mind to care anymore.

It was then he came across his goal, the source of the power. A chalice, an ornate, yet simple cup. He came to a halt to the altar that held it,  and he looked upon it. He gazed into its inside, taking in the contents.

He nearly tore out his eyes. What met him was maddening. It could not have been. He could not comprehend it. It was the essence he had been  searching so long for. He babbled, he had finally found his goal. His rituals had come through. And he alone was left to reap the reward. His tribe had done their job, but he felt no loyalty to them. Their corpses were of no matter to him anymore.

With a single swipe, the cup was picked up. In another shaky motion, the essence within was downed. It seemed endless. Was the cup larger than he remembered? It just kept coming. Everything was getting darker. He felt as though he was being torn apart. His body couldn't handle the power he had sought. But yet he continued. The darkness enroached upon him,  and yet he continued his chug of the maddening essence.

The abominations that lurked in the cave closed in on him. Claws grabbed at  his legs. No matter. He had his goal, it would save him. Surely.

It had to.

The cup was nearly knocked from his hand when it happened. A burst of divine power escaped his body, blowing the horrific creatures that  sought to feast upon him away. They burnt to ash before the blast, the ground itself rumbling as his body let go of what it struggled to hold on to.

It was then that he lost conciousness, the last thing he saw was the ground rapidly coming towards him. His body naturally curled itself up,  cocooning itself in the pure power he had embibed. It alone could not  handle the power, but in time, it would become accustomed to what he had  brought upon himself. It was a matter of time, time he had to spare. Time he could not perceive.

The blast itself acted as a beacon, burning away the concealing shadows  that had hidden the divine essence within. The divine power echoed, emanating across Galbar. There was no mistaking it, no incapability of  finding its source. It was a massive roar in a land that was comparably quiet. A new demigod had been born, his reward for the utter ruthlessness that had been displayed.

In time. In time he would emerge from his cocoon of divine emenations. But for now, he rested. And he grew. Impressionable and young. A blank slate, yet tainted with the madness that he had brought upon himself. A madness that would push him ever onwards in the path of secret evils and  abominations that laid dormant within the universe.

For now, he was but a cocoon, a breachable and impressionable cocoon that could be influenced by the gods he had so unwittingly alerted to  his presence, the exact location from whence he came. A light burning  away any doubt of his dedication and subsequent reward.

Victory, a hollow and ridiculous notion. He had his power, but he would never be the same again. He had torn himself apart, and what would come out would inevitably be mad, no longer the determined and intelligent man that went in. Though he would no longer be as measured as he was before, however, madness had its perks.

The full extent of the plateau of knowledge would be open to him. He would discover things that drive men and gods alike mad, and he would be utterly unaffected. For one that comes predisposed as mad cannot be inflicted by further madness. Only time will tell if he can control his madness, however.

Perhaps one day he will be sane again. Perhaps one day he will be capable of recovering from what the cyclopean stones of the caves did to his psyche. But for now, ruin has come to him. Another argument is that he will never regain his sanity, at least not permanently. He was born from it -- made from it -- and should he escape, he may be returned to it in time. [i]In Time[/i].

A potential cycle that could go on until the stars align and the universe is made anew.

But as the little demigodling had rightly realised, only Time would tell. For Time had foretold, and even now it told, and it would yet tell. The Lord of Time slipped through the endless spaces and tore the Fabric of Existence, and he manifested himself before the cocoon and surveyed with cool, unfeeling eyes the grimness of what was here.
It truly was quite amazing what these mortals did in pursuit of the forbidden. There were some things it was better not to know about, some things which mortals and immortals alike did best to avoid. But there were some mortals and immortals who did not understand. Too proud...too greedy...too selfish and self-centred. Many things. But what they all shared was a canny inability to see the greater whole - they pursued what their baser instincts, or what they percieved to be their higher reason and inclination, told them to. It was as he had Seen.

He had, as he vividly remembered, been in the company of some of the beings he had brought back from the gates of death and delivered from Galbar to Chronos. He had taken it upon himself to teach them things which even the Bard had not (indeed, could not). They were creatures with a future and purpose, after all, and they had to be prepared. It was as he was in their company that the vision had struck him with suddenness, and he Saw with an immense clarity the way the path led. Wordlessly he had left the creatures and risen far up above the small island-planet into the greater spaces of Chronos. And as he rose, the very heavens began to crack and open, and they groaned and thundered, and they flashed and bared their violent blazes. And the Gap opened up where once the Chronos spaces: infinite, harrowing, staggering in its scope.

Yet though the heavens had become a portal, nothing left Chronos and entered the Gap, and nothing left the Gap and entered Chronos. Even the horrific monstrosities which dwelt therein, upon sensing the sudden opening, found that they hit an invisible barrier when they attempted to slip in. Chronos was Vowzra's domain, and the very Fabric of this place obeyed his every command. Even if Amul'Sharar himself were to manifest himself here, he would have no power that the Lord of Chronos denied him it. That was the way of Chronos, and Vowzra knew that Illunabar's Raka was not much different, though she had imbued it with characteristics that caused parts of it to be in constant rebellion against her power. No good could come of such foolishness, he knew.

But as it were, Vowzra opened the Chronos heavens up into a doorway leading to the Gap. And in this way he would be able to counter any advances the Jvanic Entity planned on making here. And in this way he could do yet another thing. For there was a certain heavenly body which he had, in bygone days, cast into the terrible darkness of the Gap, and it was Time for him to reclaim it.
And like a fisherman, he cast his line. But unlike a fisherman, he directed his line and purposefully hooked the diabolically altered Perfectus before reeling it in. And just as it had left the Universe and entered the Gap before, it now left the Gap and emerged into Chronos. And it hung in the Chronos heavens while Vowzra surveyed it. Strange creatures occupied it, the very earth had weird properties, and Vowzta knew that Toun would be far from happy with the moon Vulamera had gifted to him so long ago. But as it were, Vowzra was not truly all that bothered.

He collected many things from the moon's surface - rocks, shells, whole trees, precious stones...chalices, coins, swords. Yes, strange things indeed occurred in the Gap, and Vowzra knew that he would have to be ever the more cautious as he proceeded with his battle against Jvan if the battlefield became the Gap. But the Jvanic Entity would also have to proceed with caution, for the Gap was far from being its monopoly, just as it was far from being his monopoly or anyone else's. 

And he had travelled far and wide, from Galbar to Arcon and hundreds of millions of other planets and moons, and he had placed in the earth or in the skies, or upon the mountains or within the trees, the Eldritch Relics of Perfectus. And this here was amongst the first beings to find one such relic, and there had been within it the soul of a weakened, maddened demigod. Strange things indeed abound within the Gap. Vowzra knew that there was not much he could give this demigodling which it would truly appreciate - nothing other than this knowledge. And so he cast an aura around the cocoon, and he imbued within the mind of the sleeping demigodling the knowledge of its origins, and the fact that Time and Fate had long ago dictated that it would one day come to be, and they had dictated when and how, and they had actively worked towards its making. And as Fate had dictated, so had it been.

With that, Vowzra left through the tear he had created, and it closed up behind him. And it was as though he had not been.