[center][h3][colour=goldenrod]Chakravarti - The Matripatrihierarch[/colour]

and 

[color=FFE4E1]Arira - Goddess of Cycles[/color][/h3]
[h2]The First Birth[/h2]

[i]A collab by [@AdorableSaucer] and [@Crusader Lord], and the latter's "Post 0"[/i]
[/center]
[hr]
A time had already passed since the Family God’s inception, and with the company of their first son, they had toured the endless burning deserts, fighting the rampant storms and terrible quakes of the earth around them. The weather brought rain, granted, so that was a much needed solace in this world of death. Chakravarti had pondered this loudly to his son - was this the world of the upset state of the universe, or could there be others like him out there? 

Magic cracked across the sky in great, colourful arcs, frequently blasting the ground around them. Had Chakravarti been anything less than divine, they would have joined the garden of bones and skeletons protruding the ashes they walked. To ward their son’s safety, they constantly shielded him with four of their arms, chaotic energies singing their caramel skin, but leaving the young boy untouched. The god walked somewhat aimlessly, even divine senses seeming somewhat useless in locating other enclaves of survivors. That was when they looked down at little Doile, renamed Ossurman the First, and pursed their lips.

[colour=goldenrod]”Have you any family left, actually? Distant branches, perhaps? Removed cousins?”[/colour] The baby cooed sleepily and the god frowned. [colour=goldenrod]”What do you mean ‘I don’t understand what that is’? To lose oversight of the family tree is quite a disgrace, young man. I will have no choice but to drill this into your head before you are to further my line.”[/colour]

The baby cooed again.

[colour=goldenrod]”No, a line as in…”[/colour] A sigh. [colour=goldenrod]”Perhaps you are too young for this still. What misfortune that the blood of my blood should be so limited in intelligence. Albeit a baby, you are still my son, and the sons and daughters of Chakravarti are to be kept to a standard befitting of my dynasty.”[/colour]

“Goom-bah…”

[colour=goldenrod]”’Goombah’... What are you trying to say? Compass? Gum? I appreciate your attempt to maintain this conversation, but--...”[/colour] The god stopped to blink, a thought having struck them like an arrow to the mind. [colour=goldenrod]”A compass. Of course! Oh, my little genius, my little sage!”[/colour] They skipped gleefully around in circles as the earth around them snapped with apocalyptic tension and the heavens quaked with energy. Chakravarti hugged the little baby with motherly tenderness and kissed him on the forehead. [colour=goldenrod]”You may just become a dynastic legend yet, my son. Now watch your mother work her magic.”[/colour] In one of their palms, Chakravarti conjured forth a small, simple disc, adorned with a single golden arrow that laid suspended in its centre. The god pursed their lips and shook it softly in their hand - it did not respond.

[colour=goldenrod]”Alright… Now let’s try…”[/colour] The god placed it on Ossurman’s belly, and the arrow immediately twisted around and shot a course to the east-south-east. Two pairs of the god’s hands clapped excitedly. [colour=goldenrod]”Oh, marvellous! You have living family! We have living family!”[/colour] Another giddy skip tossed the god over a bottomless ravine. [colour=goldenrod]”Perhaps they are not alone! Quick! We must make haste!”[/colour] Ballerina gaits brought the god to a mighty pace, fueled by curiosity and anticipation. In their arms, Ossurman burbled with excitement.

[hr]

After what felt like days of travel, the two eventually arrived at a great ruin, an ancient stronghold of sorts: Gray stone walls had been coloured black by soot, and a shattered gate served more as an invitation to enter rather than a barrier against invaders. A sacred sniff revealed that the ruin was anything but uninhabited, however; the stinks of fire, sweat, blood and feces oozed from inside, along with the sounds of coughing, weeping and whining. Chakravarti took out the compass again and placed it on Ossurman’s sleeping belly. They wrinkled their nose, but remained firm in their expression. [colour=goldenrod]”Fear not, my son. The compass has led us here and thus, you must have living family left. You must.”[/colour] They then stepped inside.

They quickly realised why this had been chosen as a shelter despite its decrepit state: Despite the gate’s disrepair, the halls of the fortress were nothing short of labyrinthian - had it not been for their sacred senses, Chakravarti would have been lost in these tunnels for days. Luckily the ever-present stench of wounds, blood and refuse kept the god on their trail, all up to a tunnel with flickering light at its end. A sudden rush of feet told them they had been spotted, and the god drew a slow breath and turned the corner at the end of the hall.

As they did, they said, [colour=goldenrod]”Fire not! I seek only the kin of Ossurman the First--”[/colour], but was instantly struck by a hail of arrows, all of which bounced off the three arms which had been raised to shield his son. While no improvised arrow could wound a mighty god, the attack had come as a surprise, and Chakravarti lowered their shield with an expression of shock. [colour=goldenrod]”You DARE?!”[/colour]

“By the gods, what IS that?!” shouted one of the archers - eleven more were busily knocking new arrows; seven stared in disbelief at the creature entering their hideout; and a much greater number of men, women and children of all ages or conditions that could not fight hunkered down in the far corner of the room. As Chakravarti briefly shifted their gaze to take in the details of the room, another band of warriors armed with sticks tipped with crude metal scrap and rusty knives came in from each side of the entrance, screaming their warcries. With seven hands, Chakravarti could seven spears and snapped them in an instant, one of the hands then snapping out and closing around one of the warrior’s throats. The suddenness and incredibility of what had just transpired froze the rest of the warband, and the civilians in the far back all screamed out the last of their hope.

“NO! DADDY!” came a small girl’s voice. Two more of Chakravarti’s hands trapped another warrior who stood a little too close in a paralysing hold. 

[colour=goldenrod]”What insolence; what utter disrespect!”[/colour] thundered the god with a voice that knocked everyone in the room back a pace. Their grips tightened on their two hostages, and several humans fell to their knees some distance away and folded their hands

“P-p-please don’t hurt them! W-w-w-we thought y-you--”

[colour=goldenrod]”Though WHAT, exactly? You conspire to have me murdered - your GOD?! Did you think your little trap would work, groveling fools?!”[/colour] Divine muscle tensed with rage and the man he was choking seemed to lose consciousness. [colour=goldenrod]”Hold you your lives in such wastefully low regard that--”[/colour]

“We thought you were Sirukh!”

A fourth arm shot out and grabbed the yeller by the hand, snapping it back with a cringing crack of bone. The yeller, a woman, screamed. [colour=goldenrod]”And you interrupt me, as well - to think my person, my dynasty, holds no higher status in this world! Lo, it should all descend into chaos, ask you me!”[/colour] They scowled in disgust down at the crying woman and rolled their eyes. [colour=goldenrod]”What? Does it huwt, hmm? Does it feew owie-owie in the handy, hmm?”[/colour] Another two hands discreetly dusted off their torso. [colour=goldenrod]”Remind me not to interact with the peasantry again in the future, Ossurman… Why are we here again?”[/colour]

“GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY SISTER!” came a squeal from the back of the hall, and a young boy, barely fifteen most likely but down a leg, came limping over with the help of a cane. Behind him, a ragged woman, his mother, shouted,

“GIROH, NO, IT’LL KILL YOU!”

Chakravarti straightened themselves a little taller and dropped the man they were choking, released the man in the hold and let go of the woman’s hand - all three of them were quickly tended to by their comrades. The family god raised a curious brow at the cripple and tilted their neck from side to side with intimidating cracks. [colour=goldenrod]”Or what?”[/colour]

“Or--!” the boy panted, “or I’ll beat you within an inch of your life, you monster!”

Chakravarti pursed their lips smugly. [colour=goldenrod]”Oh? Will you now? Giroh…”[/colour] They sniffed his odour and grimaced. [colour=goldenrod]”Common blood - not so much as a scent of royalty, heroism or, well, anything.”[/colour] They stepped right on past the warriors who had attacked them, bypassing hastily evacuated bedrolls, still smouldering campfires and other clutter abandoned upon their entry. The room was like a cave, and the space between Chakravarti and the crippled boy was open and empty like an arena displaying its two greatest champions for the masses. [colour=goldenrod]”Your courage is admirable, at least, though I understand it is rooted in your condition, yes? What life is half a life, am I right?”[/colour]

“Oh, I have plenty of will to live, demon! You will witness it all, I promise you!”

[colour=goldenrod]”Heh. What part of you believes I am killable? What madness are you overcome with in these times wherein I am defeatable? Are you blind, as well, to not have seen how easily I broke my assailants? How their arrows struck my skin like the wind blows feebly at the mountain?”[/colour]

“I do not care for that!” The two now stood face-to-face, the small cripple glaring up at the towering god. “All I know is that you hurt my sister. So on my honour…”

Chakravarti’s scowl turned to a playful smirk. [colour=goldenrod]”On your honour, is that it? Well, then, honourable one - what happens when I kill you? You have failed in your mission, have you not? Your quest to defeat me?”[/colour]

“No! For I will be avenged!”

The smirk returned to an impressed purse of the lips. [colour=goldenrod]”Avenged, you say? Who would take up your mission, then? Who here would--”[/colour

“I would!” came a shout from one of the warriors. Chakravarti turned with a frown.

[colour=goldenrod]”Ugh, interruptions… And you are?”[/colour]

“Giroh’s cousin, Finlor!”

Now the family god seemed genuinely intrigued. [colour=goldenrod]”Interesting. And after you?”[/colour]

“I would!” shouted a woman. “Cilmi, Finlor’s wife!”

“Asdai, daughter of Finlor and Cilmi!”

“Visigah, cousin of Giroh!”

“Sasagah, mother of Visigah!”

“Lindo, brother of Sasagah!”

As more and more people in the room voiced their wishes to die for their family, Chakravarti’s frown gradually turned into a most excited grin. With a bite of their lower lip, they picked up Giroh by the collar of their rags, immediately silencing the room. With a manic smile, they said, [colour=goldenrod]”Oh my, this is all so incredibly fascinating! So you’re telling me, essentially, that you would all, no matter the cost, die for each other in a perpetual circle so long as the end goal was my demise?”[/colour]

The people in the hall all exchanged looks of confusion and disbelief. Giroh was stunned. “W-what?”

They put him back down again, although not so carefully that he actually had a chance to land properly. As the boy’s family hastened over to collect him, Chakravarti bit playfully at one of their fingers. [colour=goldenrod]”What selfless love; what boundless conviction! What, what an outright [i]arousing[/i] level of self-sacrifice!”[/colour]

The hall collectively lost control of their jaws to gravity. The boy’s mother burst out, “[i]A-arousing?![/i]”

Chakravarti hugged themself with four arms. [colour=goldenrod]“Oh, oh what is this feeling? This, this… I’m…!”[/colour] In a spasmic display that no one in the room could truly describe, the god’s belly seemed to swell at an incredible rate, like a pregnancy completed in the span of minutes. An exploding light burst from their form, blinding momentarily all who could not look away in time - and who could from a sight like this? When the eyes adjusted again, the humans in the cave all beheld a most unexpected sight: Chakravarti had been laid flat on the ground, their form returned to normal, albeit panting like a dog on a hot day. Next to them stood a wholly different form.

[center][hider=It is...Her]

[img]https://i.imgur.com/WT8YAI6.jpg[/img]

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Before the very much confused humans, and the incomprehensibly aroused deity before them, a new figure stood upon the dusty floor of the room...and indeed her appearance was something to behold. Fair and lovely skin clad her form in a gentle radiance, paired with a soft smile that seemed to gently assuage those about her like a calm breeze. Her soft blue-grey eyes seemed to look about the room as well, her gaze caressing each human and thing in the room and even glancing outside with a sort of softness to put others at ease...yet also a piercing intellect that seemed to take things in one at a time in stride. Even her ears were admittedly peculiar, pointed even, and her hair was long, flowing, and a pale tan color to boot!

Even her garb was something of note, covered in golden adornments from her hair down to her thighs. A crown or headband of leaves and flowers adorned her lovely head, and the very light blue dress she wore was something of a make and raw quality beyond mortals entirely. 

[color=FFE4E1]“It seems I have been born of most peculiar circumstances into this world. A world rather broken, so many of the cycles of things broken and left astray...it pains me to feel it so.”[/color]

A small frown appeared on the face of the goddess as she spoke, a glint of sorrow in her eyes and she let out a sigh. Her eyes then once more turned toward the mortals, before focusing upon Giroh, the crippled boy. To him she simply extended a hand, as if to invite him. A small smile returned to her face. 

[color=FFE4E1]“Well, such suffering I cannot abide here at the place of my birth. Thus if you all shall accept, and believe, I shall give you gifts this day. Is that not what mortals do on a day of birth?

So to you...if you wish to be healed, young one, and regain your leg’s use once more, I shall give you this as your gift.”[/color]

 The humans seemed to lessen in their cowering, and the boy even dared speak up, “What, what are you? What are either of you?”

[color=FFE4E1]“I am the beginning and the end. The start and the finish. I am Arira, young one, Goddess of Cycles. A divine being, born into this world by the other deity behind me to help repair and save it as well as help save mortals such as yourselves. Not all that is divine is good, however, but as for myself I am here to help.

Of course the circumstances of my birth here are...strange and rather sudden, even for my own tastes, yet all the same I am here now. Should you take my hand, you shall be healed. Should your loved ones come to me after, I shall grant them boons. The choice is yours, whether to live amidst a cycle of perpetual fear and pain, or come and be reborn anew.”[/color]

The cycle of the body replacing the broken tissues and parts, a process and cycle that ever wrought upon mortal forms. She could move that wheel forward, and he would be restored. It would, however, all depend on the boy and his family’s acceptance of her gift. This was now the place of her birth, to be sacred, and as it was her ‘birthday’ she felt the mortal tradition of giving gifts was appropriate for this setting. She didn’t even flinch at the boy’s words, nor take offense, but simply smile gently and seek to reinforce and explain herself. 

Giroh and his family gasped at the miracle, and the boy stood up with a quiver of difficulty, but then shouted, “I can walk! Ma, I, I can walk!” From all corners of the room, people rushed over towards Arira, lifting their hands to the ceiling and shouting, “a miracle! A saviour has come and her name is Arira!” The wounded and the crippled were helped up close to receive the same treatment as the young boy.

To the wounded and crippled, Arira would give healing as she’d given Giroh. To the suffering, she would give succor and relief. To the already dying, she would place their precious souls into the cycle of rebirth. To the mourning, she would give them comfort. Such was the cycle of life and death. 

Arira would then turn her gaze outside of the room, out to the dusty and devastated landscape about this stronghold ruin. No, this simply wouldn’t do at all! She could do a little something for this particular spot at least...it’d be something befitting the place of her birth at least. Thus the goddess would stretch forth her left hand this time, and a warm silver glow would emerge from it and wash over the fortress and area about it. For mortals, it would be something to cover their eyes from, but even so would not blind them as much as just obscure their vision...but when they could look again they would find things rather different for them. 

A great carving of a wheel, intricate beyond what any human hands could manage and filled/surrounded with depictions of various cycles, was carved into the middle of the room’s floor. It seemed to give off an almost sacred aura from it, a sort of passive reverence at that. Torches hung on the walls, and in fact the room itself seemed to be like brand new once more! If the mortals looked outside, they would too see something that went beyond their wildest dreams...greenery. Trees bearing fruits, vegetables being born from the fertile soil that replaced the dust, grasses swaying in a gentle breeze and animals running about...even the presence of a couple of lakes, and a river running from a rock formation that had been drawn up in this now flourishing space. 

Yet a long ways out, just beyond a shimmering border of very faint silver, the wasteland and its devastations were still present. It was as if this area has been dedicated...no, consecrated to flourish and thrive. All the same, it was a great miracle. 

The mortals were speechless and may rubbed their eyes and pinched each other to verify whether the sights were true. Behind Arira, a softened panting hinted that the other holy being in the room had regained their senses and risen to their feet. They regarded the room with genuine marvel and reached two pairs of hands out to softly and lovingly caress their daughter’s shoulders and neck. [colour=goldenrod]”My, you truly are blood of my blood - you have existed for a blink of the eye and already you turn ruins into temples and death into life.”[/colour] The god wept a small, clear tear away and let a hand play with her hair. [colour=goldenrod]”My daughter, my Arira - pride of my soul and house. What fantastic art you have created so suddenly; what compassion you show for the poor and wounded.”[/colour]

[color=FFE4E1]“This place shall be a holy sanctuary to me always. It’s lands shall be plentiful, and this stronghold shall remain both a stronghold and now a sacred temple to mark the place of my birth. You shall find this fortress-temple stocked with weapons and tools and supplies further in turn.

Care for it all wisely, oh mortals, but not become gluttonous and lazy upon it. Have wisdom in your actions here. Defend it, for it is a sacred place. I shall always know what goes on here, ever-seeing, ever-knowing. Yet still, find peace here. Find rest, and food, and supplies aplenty of all kinds and sorts within these borders. But mind ye where ye stay from this day forward-,”[/color]

As the goddess was speaking to the mortals, simply laying down the ground rules and such as it were, Chakravarti’s sudden two pairs of hands caressing her neck and shoulders made her suddenly take pause...and then sigh once more. Arira turned around to look at her progenitor, shrugging off the hands and walking closer to Chakravarti and the little Ossurman resting in the other deity’s arms. 

[color=FFE4E1]“It was simply natural that I should show compassion here, even on this day of my birth and upon the place of it thereof. It is merely my duty to help bring this world from the brink of destruction and into a new cycle of plenty. All the same, I could not abide such suffering either. 

Still, even if from most ‘peculiar’ circumstances...I give thee thanks for bearing me into the world this day. Though who is this little one, who beareth your ichor within?”[/color] 

Gently Arira reached over and touched the tiny cheek of Ossurman, softly, like a mother or big sister might do. She then carefully pulled her hand back and looked back at that which had spawned her. Three of Chakravarti’s hands ignored Arira’s attempt to dodge caresses, and went right back to playing with her hair and massaging her shoulders.

[colour=goldenrod]”Oh, isn’t he beautiful? This, my child, is your older brother, Ossurman the First, the first of my house - the first of our house.”[/colour] Two hands gently pulled silk wraps aside to reveal the little face looking curiously up at Arira. [colour=goldenrod]”He is quite the conversationalist; he may just be a bit shy in the beginning. He’s very sharp, though; very sharp.”[/colour]

“Awiwa,” cooed the baby and clenched his bun-like fists in his sister’s direction as if trying to reach out to her. Chakravarti gasped.

[colour=goldenrod]”Aaaaaw! Arira, he even knows your name already! Oh me, oh my, this is just… So precious.”[/colour] Three hands took up the task of fanning away the gods overflow of giddiness. [colour=goldenrod]”Big brother meets little sister, oh! Lo, I am smitten! Smitten, I say!”[/colour]

The younger goddess let out another small sigh, lightly with her other hand trying to shoo the extra arms away, but all the same gave a smile to the little demigod in her parent’s arms. She put her hand down to the little baby, where he could grab onto one of her fingers if he so desired. Adorable indeed, that much was very correct, and sharp if he was able to grasp her name this quickly. Then again he was a demigod, so there was the matter of that already affecting his development and so forth naturally. Still...

[color=FFE4E1][i]“We have a most…‘eccentric’ parent indeed, Little One. Perhaps we shall have enough room to breathe eventually. Even so, I shall be your sister and you my brother….that feels most right, does it not?”[/i][/color]

She whispered close to the ear of her tiny now half-divine brother, before letting out a small chuckle at their shared little conversation. The baby giggled in a bubbly manner and clapped his doughy hands. Above, Chakravarti chuckled a motherly laugh and gestured around the room, shouting, [colour=goldenrod]”Behold, peasants! [b]This[/b] is the power of my dynasty. Your queen for all eternity has arrived and her name is Arira, daughter of Chakravarti, second of her house!”[/colour] They leaned over to kiss the reluctant goddess’s forehead and said, [colour=goldenrod]”I expect you to take good care of your new vassals, your new clansworn, my sweet.”[/colour]

Arira simply sighed again...she felt this would be far, far from the last time she did so at the antics and such of her also-divine parent. The same for her brother Ossurman as well. They would have each other regardless, so it was only natural that they be united on that front! Was fitting for siblings, she felt, to best weather the ever-repeating ‘cycle’ of parental embarrassment and prodding. Haha. 

Even so the goddess turned once more to the mortals, after glancing out at the apocalypse still ongoing a long distance away, and gave to them a simple and gentle nod. 

[color=FFE4E1]“Be well here, but be wise and vigilant. For as the cycles of this world continue to turn round and round, so can the hands of time and fate also turn one way or another when the foolish begin to sit about idly and vainly. 

I shall I watch over thee and this place eternally, however, such is my promise. Therefore wait for my next arrival with great patience, as I must go and tend to this shattered place beyond this paradise. This shall too be a cycle of its own, as I leave to do my work and return at times to teach thee and thine descendants in this place evermore.

So too pray that my work to help this land shall flourish, and be ready for my guidance each time I return. In time I shall also hide this paradise away from destruction, grant it protections, shield it with defenders and defenses round-about, and you too in time shall be its guardians as well.”[/color]

Turning her head back to her peculiar parent, Arira then gave a nod. 

[color=FFE4E1]“I must go away. This shattered land calls to me, and I cannot abide its pain so long as I exist. I shall go and tend to the land itself, to bring about a cycle of rebirth to its myriad places that life and so forth will return. 

You and my brother are both welcome always so long as it is in peace or defense of this place, and he too is more welcome to live here if he so chooses to stay, but...please be kind to the mortals here. They and their own families have been through much.”[/color]

With this, Arira would raise her right hand, a soft glowing light emitting from it until it shone bright once more. Upon the light fading and looking where she had stood, though, there was now naught but the design on the floor that still sat there. She had left, and yet she had too promised to return. A cycle of leaving and returning to this place had been set forth. 

[colour=goldenrod]”Then go with my blessing, my daughter, my pride - bring honour and glory to our house![/colour] They waved four arms at the ceiling of the great temple and looked down smilingly at their firstborn. Ossurman cooed quietly and the family god blinked in realisation. They turned to the still-dumbfounded humans, held up their son and said, [colour=goldenrod]”Oh, of course. Does anyone recognise this baby?”[/colour]

[hider=Summary!]
The post opens with Chak strolling about with Ossurman in tow. Chak asks if Ossurman has any more family alive. Ossurman naturally doesn’t answer quite clearly and Chak gets upset, though somehow comes to the conclusion that Ossurman said “compass” in babyspeak and makes a compass that can track his kin. This brings them to a hideout inside an old ruin. Chak tries to enter, but gets attacked by desperate defenders. 

This pisses the family god off to an extreme level, so much so that they nearly kill (or actually kill) two people and break that hand of a third. After breaking the hand, a crippled boy comes limping over and says he will beat Chak to death. Chak tests his courage and asks what happens after they kill him when he fails. They then figure out that a lot of people in this enclave are family that would die to avenge each other. 

Witnessing so many oaths to persevere in vengeance for their fallen kin, Chak gives birth to Arira, the Goddess of Cycles, who immediately heals the wounded and calms the atmosphere a lot. Shrugging off her mother-father’s attempt to cuddle with her, she turns the ruin and surrounding lands into a fertile valley surrounding a temple fortress dedicated to herself. After earning the love and loyalty of the survivors, she disappears to help save the world.

In short, Arira after the end of this post has headed out to do therest of her intended "Post 0" stuff and help restore the land of the world.  
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[hider=Major Actions!]
1MA (reduced to 0) - Create the Ariran Paradise, a great, large, fertile, and fruitful valley surrounding a temple-fortress in the center dedicated to Arira, Goddess of Cycles. 
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