Every god had a place in the world. The three-headed god of weather had his clouds and the goddess of magic walked amongst those she blessed. Valen’s place was among and between the humans. Traveling from tribe to tribe as he taught them one art or another. Now again he led his immortal donkey through the thick, ancients forests to where he knew there were more humans. After many lonely nights he finally got close as he saw the smoke rise up from a campfire. “We’re nearly there, friend.” He muttered to his donkey. Who of course did not understand him. The obedient packing animal just stopped and began to eat off the forest floor for a moment. Before it was pulled back into walking pace by Valen. He’d been traveling for several weeks now. Strangely enough the number of human tribes around seemed to have shrunk significantly.

Slowly, peacefully, he walked up towards the camp. Still, two men grabbed their spears and approached him. “Halt! Who are you!” they commanded. Valen stopped. He was no stranger of the weariness of men. Strangers brought uncertainty and Valen was more than just a stranger. He slowly raised his hands, revealing the tools he carried inside his heavy cloak. From beyond a tent an elder appeared, who hit both of the warriors against the leg with her cane. “Idiots. You think those spears will do much against a god.” She then turned to Valen. “You haven’t aged a day, my lord.”

A small smile escaped from Valen’s lip. [b]“I’d say the same but I’d be lying.”[/b] He looked around for a moment. The number of people was suspiciously low. As if it hadn’t grown since his last visit. [b]“Where is your husband?”[/b] he asked the elder. 

Her face instantly soured. “Taken by fire madmen. They call themselves worshippers of Ragnagedon, the god of fire.” She explained. “They came just a few days ago. We managed to escape but.. well a price a was paid.” Valen felt the mood sour in the village as the tale was told. The sense of loss ran deep. 

He started working that evening after he had filled his stomach. Within the small tent he set up he began to draw his plans. Paper and papyrus were filled with various ideas. Most were thrown out. When curious children picked them up and unfurled them they could only see confusing lines and weird scribblings. Eventually, the god burst forth from his tent with his toolbelt. It was time to build. A bit further outside the village stood several large stones. As the rays of dawn graced the rocks, Valen began to measure them with his fingers and their shadows. Curious villagers slowly approached him. First, they just watched him as he was knocking on stone and seemingly began a conversation with one. It took several hours and the sun stood high in the skies when he finally exclaimed: [b]“Yes! This one!”[/b] 

The villagers came closer. “What are you doing?” They asked, just as he took his hammer and chisel. The question stopped him in his tracks.

[b]“You’ve told me about your loss.”[/b] He began his explanation as he sat down. Putting away his tools again. [b]“I’m sorry, I won’t bring your loved ones back. Toying with life and death like that is a dangerous endeavor.  No matter what powers you’re given, be it magic or divinity, those who passed should remain at rest. That being said, their memories can be eternal. As can their stories but I am afraid human memory can be a feeble thing. Forgetting is a human thing, one you shouldn’t be faulted for but that does not mean you’re not allowed to combat it. What I want to do is make an aid for your memory. Something that will help you remember whenever you see it. So even when time slips and memories fade, they can be summoned once more. Here, around this rock.”[/b]

“How would a rock help us remember? Why not that rock?” another villager asked as he pointed towards another rock.

Valen smiled. Humans, such inquisitive creatures. [b]“Because it is my intention to shape this rock into something unique.”[/b]

The villagers talked amongst themselves for several minutes as Valen patiently waited, playing around with his divine tools between his fingers. Eventually, the strongest men of the village stepped forward. “We want to help you to shape this rock.”

Valen jumped up from his seat. [b]“Excellent. Now I would like this stone moved towards your village. It wouldn’t be seen very often up here in the hills, right? Alas, I do think this whole stone is a bit too much for you. Fret not, I have a plan.”[/b] What followed was an endeavor carried out by the entire village. Wood was chopped and the trees were used to roll the massive stone down the hill’s slope. Ropes kept it from rolling too fast. The arduous tasks meant that people were tiring quickly. A steady supply of water and food kept them on their legs. It took four days to move the stone to the village but it eventually reached it. There a pit was waiting for it already. Slowly but surely the stone pillar was raised under the supervising eye of Valen. When the stone was raised, he and a handful of villagers went to work. People began to carve figures on all sides of the stone. Figures of people holding berries, javelins, arrows and other objects. Each figure was unique. A person that had died at the madmen’s fires. As figures were carved, already fading memories sprang back to life. A few tears dropped again. Valen continued his watch over the stone. It felt nearly impossible to not be touched by their sadness but Valen always considered that a curse for any divine being. Alas, if it was a curse it was his to bear. Often times he wished he could do more for the human tribes he visited. In the past, they were happy with pots and stitched garbs. Now death was stalking the humans more often. Had his siblings given up on shepherding them? Or were their own, selfish desires rising above their duties? Valen did not know but he certainly didn’t like it.

Sunken deep in his own thoughts about the other gods, Valen never saw the elder approach behind him. “The villagers are…grateful for your gift, lord Valen. They’ve sworn they’ll add a figure for each person that died. So they may never be forgotten.” 

Vallen nodded. It was what he had hoped for. That the humans would continue practice what he had taught them. [b]“I hope only old figures will have to be carved from now on.”[/b]
[hr]
Lira was not blind. The beams would hurt her far more than she could hurt the hydra god. With a tiny movement of her wings, she changed direction. Narrowly missing all three beams by barely an inch. Fear coursed through her heart for a second. Such power. She knew they were a god but clearly she had underestimated divine power. Still, she couldn’t just run away now. When she came down upon the earth a heavy quake traveled through the ground. Within the howling winds, a roaring explosion erupted. Vaporizing all the snow around. Eventually, the smoke cleared and within a still glowing crater stood Lira over the broken body of an ice dragon. Holding its head up. [b]“Weak.”[/b] She muttered with disgust as she threw the head back down again.

High above them the swirling winds carried ice and snow. The darkening clouds of the storm blocked any and all sunlight. By now the battlefield was illuminated by fire and lightning. Flashes traveled through the mountainous pass. Newly arriving dragons were soon caught in the winds. Unable to fight such hurricane winds they were quickly thrown against the ground or were swallowed by the maelstrom. Flying aimlessly through the blinding darkness. This did not mean they were utterly passive about it. Angry at the wind that held them the verzakian dragons breathe their fire into it. High over the ground fire joined fire before it was swiftly extinguished again by the gale winds. Down below the dragons had a stronger chance to survive. Some had the misfortune to be caught by several ice dragon. There was little they could do against the purification. However, the winds seemed indiscriminate. Ice dragons too were swallowed up and thrown around. Some found themselves high up in the air. Where the fought a chaotic battle with the other dragons even though neither side had actual control. Down on the ground the lightning and ice mixed with the burning shrubs.

Lira and Thesan crawled up the side of the mountain. Careful as to not open their wings and be swallowed by the storm. From a higher ground, they observed the battlefield. It was pandemonium. Great pillars of smoke and fire we ripped apart by the air. Where the whirlwind created a maelstrom of fire and ice. Rain fell down, joined with ice, fire and the occasional bolt of lightning. All the while the gale winds were failing to suffocate the angry, desperate or triumphant roars and screams of both sides. In the middle of it was Drakairos like a furious orchestra conductor. [b]“We need to do something.”[/b] Lira noted as she saw the Verzakian dragons get killed or be victorious. [b]“Agreed. You help our kin! I will take the hydra god!”[/b] Lira nodded as she quickly descended the mountain again. With fiery breathe she grabbed once ice dragon that thought he had won and was purifying a weakened Verzakian dragon. Before he knew it though, the ice dragon’s jaw was forced to stay open as he looked down Lira’s great maw. A great beam of fire began to melt his innards. Within a moment his corpse collapsed.

Thesan opened his wings and was quickly swallowed by the storm. Hoping the chaos of the winds would keep him unpredictable, he made no attempt to control his hurling movement. Instead, he shot his beam of fire at Drakairos every time he could. “I’m here, false god!” he screamed in between beams. [b]“I’m here you three-headed beast! You wouldn’t dare face me in a fair fight, would you!? No matter! My kin are coming for their king! Soon this whole storm will be made of fire!”[/b] he taunted.
[hr]
The soggy mud had preserved the tracks perfectly. The fire raiders were kneeling next to the trail that looked more like a river of footsteps. Now further up north, they felt a chilling wind here. Every other day a cold rain tried to cool them down. Every time they had to burn wet logs in an attempt to stay warm. Most of the times they were successful but those times became less frequent now. Fir had long dreaded this. The fading of their flame. He had looked into the eyes of his people and he began to saw the hollowness behind them. These men and women held no purpose if their fire would die out. What would follow after that would be the end of everything he worked for.

Alas, if there was a god of fate it would appear that it was on his side now. The trails marched down south. “They passed us.” Esif noted as she prodded a trail. Comparing it to her own footsteps. “They’re loaded heavier than we are. They also far outnumber us.” From all people that could’ve lost their flames, Fir’s youngest Hand was not one of them. “I propose an ambush.” She followed up. In the last year she had grown into quite a scout. Knowing the terrain and reading the land. Fir trusted her judgment.

“Indeed. Esif, take your men and find me this…band. I want to know where they are going within three nights.” Fir commanded with his usual tone of severity.

Esif carried out his command. Small groups of her people, a handful to each group, began to canvas the area. They stalked the thick, suffocating forests and mist-filled fields in a search to find their prey. Eventually, she found something. A group of men, about an equal amount as her own group, running from a bear. “You’d think they could take that thing.” Jass commented with a smug smile as they observed the spectacle from a distance. “They can.” Esif said with a cold voice. The men were packed better than she and her people. With bronze spears and even swords. Strange black and red scales were sown against their fur clothing. With three strong men they could take the bear on probably. So why didn’t they? It didn’t matter as the bear stopped in its tracks, sniffed in the air and turned around. “Oh crap.” Esif said as she immediately realized what was happening. “Run!”

The bear began to chase the scouts now. As they wore heavy furs, the bear was quickly catching up with them and when it would, the bear would have no trouble tearing apart their backs. Some scouts huddled together with spears outstretched. To no avail. The bear plowed straight through them. Tearing the face off of one man. Esif, in the meantime, ran towards the enemy. Who was still running away. Behind her she heard the bear mauling her people. “Lord Ragnagedon. Grand my vengeance. Grant me power. Grant my vengeance. Grant me power. Grant me fire!” She repeated like a wicked prayer. Begging for the endless burning and death of others. Soon she was upon one enemy scout who barely understood what was happening as Esif jumped up from a fallen log and threw him against the ground with all her weight. A second later one of her daggers was in his neck. Blood spat forth and pooled on to the already damp ground. Esif let her knife go. She grabbed the bronze spear laying next to him and turned around with it. Right in time for the jumping bear. The lumbering beast fell on the spear. Howling in pain as its own weight pushed it deeper. “Die! Die! Die!” Esif screamed as bear-blood poured from the open wound onto her. With her other hand she grabbed the knife from behind her and began to stab the bear even more. Eventually ripping its belly. Guts fell out of the wound. With a painful howl he finally dropped dead. Right on top of Esif. Who nearly got crushed.

But she wasn’t about to just give up. With her knife and all her strength, she managed to push the bear off of her. The limp beast fell down next to her as she finally hung limp over a corpse. Exhausted from the endeavor.

“Get up.” A bronze tip gleamed in the sunlight over her. Several others also pointed their spears at her. “Again, get up.” One of the warriors commanded. “You’ve committed heresy. Come with us.” Esif just let dropped her head back. Just her luck.
[hr]
Ragnagedon made it in Verzak just in time. He felt himself grow weaker with every wingbeat. The creation of the Arch-Dragons had certainly sapped him. As did his fight with Dirka. But it would seem he had less strength left than anticipated. Supremely annoyed at that notion, he managed to land in his cave. As his feet touched the hot rock beneath him, he collapsed in blue flames. Revealing his true form. Weak and even limping, he walked up towards the bath of lava he had walked out of previously. Exhausted he walked into it and closed his eyes. Willing to face his hated dreams again as he recovered his powers.

Outside Verzak changed with its master. The great spires could no longer block the skies. Nor did the earth constantly quake anymore. Still, the great rivers of molten rock flowed and the eternal flames burned. Even though the spires could no longer block out the sun, great pillars of smoke still rose up high into the air. To be seen from miles away. Verzak had become as peaceful as it could ever be.