[centre][img]https://media.discordapp.net/attachments/1006946319472001246/1010604944950308964/Ferryman_Token.png[/img] [h1]The Ferryman[/h1][/centre] [center][img]https://media.discordapp.net/attachments/1006946319472001246/1010237588126314566/FireToken.png[/img] [h1][color=red]Po[/color][/h1][/center] [hr] Someway or another, Po ended up on a rocky peak that jutted out from coastal shallows. The sky above was pallid, as if threatening rain (much to Po’s dismay) and there was an unpleasant chill in the ocean air, one that just made Po hungry and upset with the two emotions not being exclusive to one another. However, the fiery goddess did find some comfort in being perched so far above the coastal shallows below, and with the veritable buffet of crooked and stunted trees that had clawed their roots into the rocky spire. So that’s where she was, standing under bloated clouds, snapping twigs and branches from defenseless trees and shoving them into the fiery white void that peeked out from under her hood of flames. The only sounds to accompany the snapping of the branches was the gusto of her gulps and the crash of the water below, that is until someone else spoke up. “Who… who are you?” A confused elvish voice creaked from behind the goddess. Po turned, an ash covered branch poking out from her hidden mouth. Her gaze fell on the figure of a young elvish man, draped in nothing but the wind. Goosebumps pricked at his arms and a slight shiver caused him to shuffle with every burst of sea air. Po swallowed her meal and let her glowing red eyes soak in the scene. “Are you cold?” Po’s scratchy voice asked with genuine care. The man was thrown back by the sudden compassion but nodded nonetheless. The glow of Po’s eyes softened to one of helpful pride. Her voice came again. “I can help!” “You can?” The man didn’t dare take a step forward. “Mm!” Po nodded. “But after, you have to promise to hangout — it’s getting awfully boring ever since I left the others.” Before the man could even utter a response, Po shouted “Here goes!” And lobbed a pillar of fire at the man. The air screamed with the sudden intensity of heat and the shadow of the man’s body imprinted on the sudden blast of white and yellow, only to disappear along with the flames. All that remained was licking red embers that clung to whatever vegetation wasn’t wafted away by the blast. “Hey!” Po growled. “Where’d you go?” A ghastly specter materialized above the largest of the scorch marks on the ground. It was silent and had fear painted on its blurry face. “Oh, there you are!” Po said… loudly. [hr] “You’re… Sure you know where you’re taking me?” said one of the impatient passengers. The Ferryman’s first day at work was growing more stressful by the minute. First, he’d have nothing to do; then, with the appearance of mortals and beasts, the requests ticked in by the minute. Problem now was: he had no place to take them. He pursed his unclear lips and shrugged. “What’s that supposed to mean?!” came a snap from another passenger. “It means, uh… Yeah, I’m not too sure here, fellas,” the Ferryman conceded to a choir of sighs and groans. “Life was already shit -before- I died,” muttered a third passenger. “You can say that again!” “Hey, it’s not so bad. My dysentery has passed, my bowels are all calm…” “Yeah, that knife wound doesn’t hurt anymore!” The Ferryman felt a smile return. Like they said, a smiling chauffeur was paramount to a happy and successful voyage - it just felt a little easier when the positive energy reflected back. “I’m bored!” Well, it couldn’t last forever - hardly a minute, really. “Say, have any of you got any stories?” the Ferryman prodded. “A story makes the day go around, as they say.” “Who says that?” came a knife-like reply. “I did, just now,” the Ferryman glimmered back. “C’mon, anyone? Franky, how about you? C’mon, you ate that poisonous mushroom. That must’ve been something, right?” The one named Franky shrugged somberly. “Peak of my three hour existence, I’d say,” she mumbled in return. The Ferryman deflated a bit. “Well, uh…” Then it came again - that snap in his nerves; a little, instinctual bell knelling softly to let him know that, indeed, another one had passed. A little scroll of cosmic paper appeared in the breast of his robe and he fished it out with the expertise of someone who has been practicing all morning and afternoon. The scroll unfurled and depicted the story of a very unfortunate little elf - death by disintegration. The Ferryman eyed briefly the passengers - one more would fit, but it’d be cramped… Very much so, admittedly. “Say, I think we’ve reached out stop, fellas!” he said suddenly and stopped in the middle of the tundra. The passengers looked around bepuzzled, heads spinning and bobbing around like the blinking eyes of a frog. The Ferryman brought Wellington to a stop at the metaphorical shore of the perpetual magic river beneath it and tied the boat to a nearby tree. One of the passengers raised a hand. “Are you sure this is the afterlife? It looks an awful lot like the now-life, in my opinion.” The Ferryman knocked at the bark of one tree and paced over to the next, knocking on that one, too. “Well… Your afterlife started the moment you died, so the time you’ve spent away from your corpse until now - that’s your afterlife. I’d call it your afterbirth, but that’d force some nasty associations, forgive me.” Knock, knock. “Oh, this one’s good.” The passengers were beginning to exit the vessel, the Ferryman having weakened the seal around it. The ghosts, too, paced around the nearby woods, kicking through rocks and wailing creepily at the birds, who couldn’t hear them much but nonetheless flew away out of some esoteric fright. The Ferryman had by now chopped down several trees and fashioned from them good-quality planks. In the trees’ stead appeared ghosts of trees, leaves blowing angrily in ethereal wind at this blatant murder. “Look, apologies, fellas, but you’ll get a very nice place in the garden, how’s that?” One of the ghosts came over, curiously regarding the Ferryman in action. The god had quickly built a fairly large house of planks, leaves, ash and fibre. All around, he dug out a small beck, filled it with aesthetically pleasing stones and built small wooden lanterns all around. More ghosts had by now come over to behold the spectacle. “Say, what’re you building, mister Ferryman?” came an inquiry. “Oh, I’m just building you a little resting place, if you will.” “But I’m already buried, I think.” “Oh, apologies, uh… Well, I guess an inn is equally descriptive, huh?” The ghosts exchanged looks. “What’s an inn?” The Ferryman took a step back from his creation and wiped some non-existent sweat off his forehead. Before them stood a [url=https://cdna.artstation.com/p/assets/images/images/029/332/264/large/john-powell-hiyoshi-inn.jpg?1597194206]two-storied house with several entrances and windows, complete with tables in front on a neat little porch.[/url] The Ferryman turned to the ghosts and exclaimed, “BEHOLD!” Then the whole inn was reduced to ashes. Clapclapclap! sounded the palms of one of the ghosts before the others stared him down. One of the especially grumpy ghosts muttered, “What’d you do that for? What, you expect us to cheer? To laugh?” “Oh, no, I wouldn’t expect anything from you,” the Ferryman replied diplomatically, “but I hope the lodgings are to your liking.” “Lodgings?” Then, as quickly as it had burned to the ground, the ghost of the inn appeared in its stead - the same building, but visible and usable only to those who could see the dead. A choir of gasps restored the Ferryman’s confidence and he took them for a brief tour around the facilities: He showed them the kitchens, the bedrooms, the wine cellar and the main room. In the beck, there were ghost fish to pike for, and the lanterns provided an eerie light which could give them comfort during those scary nights. Around the inn stood the ghosts of the trees used to build it, horrified at the angles the Ferryman had bent their bones and organs into. All in all, it was a wonderful place to be a ghost. “Right!” said the Ferryman eventually. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back for you in a bit. It’s just… Until I have a proper place to send you all, I’ll have to ask you to stay here and, uh, please don’t wander off.” The mood averaged out in a semi-patient miff, but the Ferryman didn’t stay long enough to hear the complaints. He just rushed off to his boat, untied Wellington and soared off to the next passenger-to-be. It wasn’t too long of a trip, but so few were aboard Wellington. After a brief detour around a sour-lipped cumulus, he came to a stop on a small mountain top surrounded by shallow sea. Eyes fixed and nose dug deep in the text of the celestial scroll, he read, “Mollart Lark?” He then looked up to see a horrified ghost and a very active fire. “That’s…. that’s me.” The ghost wailed. Po’s voice came in stronger, pushing herself between the god and the ghost. “Are you fellas friends?” A tinge of jealousy or at least worry seemed to seep in her tone. The Ferryman blinked between the two. “No, we’ve just met.” A small lip smack indicated a hint of disconcertedness. “Are, are you fellas friends?” “N-” “Yup!” Po shouted. “We were just about to do some stuff. I was thinking of starting a few fires; are you in?” Growing increasingly disturbed, the Ferryman exited his vessel and walked over to the ghost. “Ma’am, you do realise…” He stuck a corporeal hand through the very incorporeal body of poor Mollart. “... That this man is dead, right? Gone? Kaput?” “Dead maybe, but not gone, see!” Po waved her hand through the very upset ghost as well. “He already promised to stick around with me for a while.” She swallowed and pushed forward a serious tone. “But are you in or are you out, because we’ve burned enough time on this as it is and there is plenty of places me and my new pal have to see and light up.” “N-no, see…” The Ferryman sighed. He had been practicing a few sentences for thing in his head during his downtime, but he wasn’t ready just yet. This would be the first draft of a first draft if anything. He drew a breath and said, “Mister Lark here, he’s… He’s passed on. He’s no longer alive, which means that the time has come to, well, move to the next phase of life - or death, in his case: I’ll be taking him to the, uh…” A second went to naming his earlier structure. “... The Ghostel, where he’ll be staying before he’lll be moving on to the next place (wherever that may be).” He sighed. “Sorry, does that make sense?” “No, it doesn’t!” Po crossed her arms, her fires growing hotter. “Because Mister Lark is coming with me to set some fires, and no scrawny boat-boy is changing that fact.” The Ferryman frowned. “Look, no need to get upset. Death is as natural as life and he’s got to move on - like you should.” Po’s red eyes turned to slits as she hissed. “Don’t tell me what to do.” She took a menacing step forward, her shoulders squaring. The Ferryman raised his staff defensively. “Look, ma’am… I’ve never fought anyone before, but I have a purpose, I do. If you get between me and Mister Lark here…” “What?” Po goaded. “What happens?” She took another step forward, her flames turning white hot and igniting any last holdouts of vegetation in the area. The Ferryman took a small step back, trying to find a balance between standing his ground and deferring diplomatically. “All I will say is that he’s coming with me.” He tested the balance of his staff with small movements. “No he isn’t!” Po shouted back, her bellowing voice sending a wave of heat outward. By the hem of her cloak, the ground started to bubble and melt. “He’s staying with me! I’m not done with him yet!” “Mister Lark, please feel free to have a seat in my boat,” said the Ferryman while his eyes remained fixed to the glaring inferno before him. Around him, eerie lights began to bubble forth, flocculating into a halo around his silhouette. “We will be leaving shortly…” “Rah!” Po shot off from her back foot, arms outstretched as she dove for the Ferryman, tackling him to the ground with an explosive blast. Volcanic ash thrust into the air from the impact and drips of molten rock splashed from the crater of the struggling gods. The Ferryman’s halo, a shield as it had been, shattered under the destructive power of the blast. He groaned sharply and struggled to regain his composure, now being under his adversary. The crater was a hissing heat as glowing rock started to drip down the edges towards the fiery clash. Po’s eyes were a glowing blue as she stared down at the Ferryman. Her usual scratchy voice was akin to a roaring fire. “Do you give up!?” The Ferryman’s frown had become a light glare and he felt the blazing heat sear at his body. Hot brimstone still drizzled from the sky above. The Ferryman then sucked in some air through his nostrils, swiftly placed two palms on each of her shoulders and… Pushed. His body phased straight through the ground and out of sight. “WHAT!?” Po shrieked and let loose a massive punch where her nemesis once was. The mountain cracked and a splash of molten rock blasted from the growing hole as she punched again. “Where did you go!?” She roared. Debris started to rain from the sky as she continued her barrage, the molten rock splashing into the sea below in all directions. Po screamed, “Show yourself, coward!” Just then, a foot placed itself right under her chin - the Ferryman was back up, both hands sticking straight up, one leg pointed out perpendicular to the torso and the other bent under his bottom. “HYAH!” he shouted mid-jump and followed his kick up with a downward smack on her scalp with his staff. Po smashed into the ground from the blow, a billow of smoke and flame spitting from her cloak. The already cracked and molten mountain shook from the blow and one half of it began to slide off with an ear-splitting grind. “You bastard!” Po’s shout riled back up after a moment and she sprung up, one hand on the top of her hood, the other slugging the Ferryman in the gut. The Ferryman went flying into the sea, the seabed folding up behind him like a scoop of ice cream. Sand and stone crumbled into a small island, and the Ferryman stood up groggily in the centre of the crater, the seawater rapidly washing in around him. Before the sea could swallow him, however, he kicked off and flew into the sky. Mid-flight, he pointed his staff at Po, the tip flaring blue. Nothing happened. Po growled from below and shot up into the sky after him, her take off ripping another side off the mountain below — the sea hissed with molten rock. Then, before she could follow up her earlier attack with another, the bow Wellington the Dory smacked her straight down from above. “WUHB!” Po went slamming down into the sea below. The water screamed as the goddess of fire entered the already bubbling waves. A second went by, long enough for the Ferryman to lower his guard, but then an eruption of magma blasted from the waves, forming a cylinder of rock hissing at the angry waves. Po was at the center of the trail of flame, blasting straight up. Her hood was knocked off her face, revealing an angry grit, narrow eyes and streaming hair of fire. With an explosive bang, she reconnected with the Ferryman, her lightning fast punch uppercutting his chin, only for her to pull him back with a terrible grip. She pulled him in tight, her hug pinning his arms to his sides. A devious grin split her face and with a puff of her flaming wings, she flipped them both upside-down. The Ferryman struggled, but realizing the ground awaited him, he only focused his energy into forming another shield - it would not form in time. The sea all but jumped in the air along with a shower of stone and fire, a clapping explosion blinding the area as the two gods stamped the ground with all their power. Dust blocked out the sky and the smell of sulfur gripped the region. Minutes went by, the only sound being hissing stone and angry water, until suddenly the gasp of breathing life joined it. Po was still struggling with the Ferryman on a small volcanic island as the sound started. She was just putting him in a headlock as he was prying her away when she froze in surprise. Mortal eyes were peering at the wrestling gods with wide, astonished gazes. The Ferryman squeezed his head out of her arms to get a better view, freezing in equal manner. “What is tarnation?” The mortals had an elven shape - two legs, two arms, a head and a torso to connect all these. However, that was where the similarities began to fade. When Mollart Lark and the rest of elfkin would usually sport a mane of hair, these [url=https://cdna.artstation.com/p/assets/images/images/003/901/358/large/eryono-eryk-fire-hair.jpg?1478367606]creatures’ heads had more in common with torches and braziers[/url]. Each one blazed with a brightness close to Po’s very own, illuminating and warming the surroundings to the extent that they could be made any warmer. One of them stepped forward, then spun around and shouted to the rest, “BEHOLD! OUR CREATORS!” All of them descended to their knees and hands, humming and mumbling prayers in chorus. “Um… buh…” Po scrambled over the Ferryman and found her footing. She stood up straight and pulled her hood back over her face. Her fire died down to a red and she peered out at the people. “Hello.” “They acknowledge us!” “Praise be to the creators!” The Ferryman squinted. “Hey, you’re obviously hers, alright? I think there’s been some mistake here…” He wormed himself up to his feet as well and dusted himself off. “Well, if you don’t mind, I have a soul to ferry. So I…” As he had spoken, he had spun on his heel and extended his leg to take a step. Then, right before him, he saw one of the mortals - however, its presence was obviously one of the soul, and not too far away laid a corpse bobbing in the sea. The Ferryman, God of Death, almost fainted. “Good cosmos! H-how has one of you died already?!” “To die is to live!” exclaimed the soul with feigned pride. She was obviously in deep shock. “It’s the water, sire!” said one of the living, oblivious to the soul. By the corpse, others had begun to tearfully attempt to fish it out of the foaming waves. “It’s coming for our fire! Everyone! Shelter your flames from the water and wind!” “Uh oh!” Po’s demeanor was completely different now. She gripped the Ferryman’s robes and gave him a tug. “We have to help them!” The tug pulled the Ferryman back into reality. “O-o-okay! Okay! Uh! Uhm!” He bit the nails of his free hand. “Uh… Houses! Mortals like houses, right? I mean, I built a house for some ghosts–!” “Houses!” Po exclaimed and leapt forward. She slammed her fist into the ground, popping a slate of stone into the air with a crack. As it landed she smacked it in half so that the two sides leaned against each other like a tent. Filled with the same gusto as one of their creators, some of the fire-haired people were already diving into the shelter. Po yelled at her nemesis-turned-partner. “Quick! More!” “O-okay!” The Ferryman followed her example and stacked slates into lean-tos and triangles. “I, uh, think it’s working! Hey, are you comfortable in there?” A small family of lava-haired mortals packed themselves together in the improvised shelter. The mother of the group looked sympathetically grateful. “It’s better than the wind, that’s for sure,” she replied with a smile. The Ferryman sighed in relief. “It’s been confirmed, it’s working!” He then put his hands on his hips and looked around. “... I feel like something’s missing, though,” he mumbled as his eyes jumped from one lean-to to the next. “You’re right!” Po gasped. She started pointing to various locations across the make-shift settlement, sprouting blooms of fire to each location. “We need more fire!” One of the fire-people’s children waddled over to a fire and stuck his hand in it. The little girl pulled out a lick of fire and quickly sucked it down like a drink before smiling content, the tiny flame on her head growing brighter. The Ferryman clapped his fist in his palm. “Like that thirsty guy earlier! Well, you wouldn’t know him… Plus he drank the same water a rat had died in and… Well, that’s not important. They drink fire - that’s nice to know. Uh… Let’s see…” He looked around the still barren archipelago. “They’ll need stuff to burn. A lot of stuff to burn.” With the snap of his fingers, Wellington filled with all kinds of seeds that could handle the cool air and chilling storms in this part of the ocean. “I’ll just fly around a bit and plant some! Keep the people here safe, alright?” “Uh huh!” Po nodded eagerly. She paused as a thought crossed her mind “Before you go, what’s your name?” “Oh! Uh… Just the Ferryman’s fine.” There was a small pause. “What’s, uh, what’s yours?” “Po.” Another pause. “I guess that makes those guys… Po..fers? Ferpo…” She pinched her unseen chin. “Feporry…?” The Ferryman glanced over at the small rock village now forming. “Does Porries sound nice?” Po gave a deep nod. “Yes! I think that’s perfect.” The Ferryman nodded. “Right, Porries it is!” He glanced over one more time. “Look, uh, sorry for hitting you with a boat. I did many stupid things, but that in particular was pretty uncalled for.” He bowed remorsefully. “Erm.” Po crossed her arms, clearly struggling with pride before sighing. “And I’m sorry for throwing you off a mountain.” “It’s okay. It happens.” He put one foot in the boat and said, “Well, I’ll be taking this around the island. Don’t really know what else we should d–” He paused. “Say, uh, do these porries eat?” “If they are anything like me, they definitely do.” Po held her stomach with one hand. “I’m starving, I could eat an entire everything.” The Ferryman stepped out of his boat again, conjured forth a stick and walked over to one of the porries. “Here, friend,” he said with a smile, “have a nibble.” The porry eyed the stick searchingly, then took it and bit into it. She gnawed and exerted great effort in doing as the deity had said, but after a minute or two, she surrendered the stick back with a hanging head. “Forgive me, my liege… I simply cannot chew through it! Plus it tastes yucky!” The Ferryman felt himself begin to sweat. “Po, they don’t eat like you do! What do we do?!” “Quick!” Po stomped the ground, summoning a myriad of animals and knocking them right into the air. She flicked a dart of fire at one particular squealing and very upset pig, roasting it midair before it fell to the ground, sizzling and ready. All the other animals, from birds to mammals to lizards scurried (smartly) away. Po pointed at her prize, a hunger in her tone as she said. “Try this.” A porry man standing by the crisped animal poked it with his finger and then licked his prodding appendage. His eyes lit up and his hair perked. “This is delicious!” The Ferryman ignored the weeping ghost of the pig for a moment and went over to poke the crisped animal. “Dang, you eat this?” he marveled. Looking at the scurrying animals and the great ocean, he cast a piece of pork into the sea. A minute later, great rivers of silver flowed to and fro under the waves, fish filling the waters with bounteous food. Seaweed rusted the shores with a brown sheen, and seals with wooly fur and walruses with six tusks crawled out of the foam to relax on the beach. “Diversity is the key to survival, me thinks. Let’s see, what else?” Po shivered for a moment and looked around. Despite the various volcanic spouts, geysers and hissing hot springs, the place was rather cold and snow was already starting to layer on the archipelago. “Maybe you should plant your plants so we can get to making some fire for our little friends.” “Oh yeah.” The Ferryman hopped back into his boat and took off into the sky. As he sailed between the steamy clouds accumulating over the hissing seas, he cast fists of seeds all across the archipelago. Some places filled with thick, diverse forests of pines, evergreens, beech, oak and ash; others swallowed the seeds in flame or sea; some yet tried to destroy the seeds, but empowered them to grow into magmangroves, trees so magically heat resistant and pyrophilic that they could not grow anywhere but in the lava deltas running from volcanoes into the sea. Plains of grasses, flowers and hardy cereals sprouted forth where the soil was too shallow or matte for trees; some of the animals Po had created began to snack on these plants. One in particular was a thick-woolen alpaca, its vaguely metallic wool heat resistant enough to withstand the sudden geyser splashes around their grazing grounds. Lastly a small flower aptly and quickly named heatpoppies started to sprout in colder areas, the tiny balloon like pedals popping with a hiss of heat whenever disturbed. The Ferryman, satisfied with what he had sown, landed his vessel by the first porry village and stepped onto land. “Well, this sure is a lovely place now!” he lauded. “Could almost live here myself.” Po held her hands to the sky. “It’s brilliant! Look at all this heat!” She looked to the Ferryman. “I wouldn’t have guessed this right away, but you have quite the spirit of fire in you.” The Ferryman blushed ethereally and waved his hands with humility. “Oh my, thank you. Well, you know how it is. Birth, life and death are all equally valuable and equally important. Just as I want people to have a good last journey in death, so does it comfort me to know that they have lived good lives.” He looked over his shoulder at a small group of ghosts formed from a few more careless porries and one very angry pig. “You, too, by the way - I didn’t know you had it in you to create, uh… Non-burning things.” “Oh!” A giggle. Po’s red eyes squinted with mischief. “They burn alright.” The Ferryman blinked. “Alright. Luckily these islands are plenty scenic, so I don’t mind coming here often.” “Are the other islands as beautiful as this one?” came a voice from the Ferryman’s feet. There, a little porling had grasped the hem of his cloak with one hand and pirouetted himself into a roll. The Ferryman looked puzzled for a moment. “Oh, uh, yeah, they are! But pray tell, why do you ask? Can’t you just go see—” A brief glance at the ghost who had fallen into the ocean came to mind. The ghost stared at him knowingly. “Oh.” He snapped his fingers. “One last thing – uhm, everyone?! Can I have your attention, please?” A crowd slowly formed around the two gods. The Ferryman gave Po a look and said, “I was just thinking I’d give them some tips on how to get around these islands. If you’d like to stay around or move on, I won’t hold ya back.” “Erm no, I think that’s a good idea.” Po gave a nod. “But I’ve already tried to evaporate all the water, there’s just too much of it. I don’t think these porries will have a better chance than I did.” The Ferryman nodded. “Yeah, I figured as much. I had something else in mind.” He pointed his finger out to the side and guided everyone’s glances. “Everyone - this is a boat…” [hr] [hider=might] Po: 5 might, 5 AP 4 might discounted to 2AP to make volcanic archipelago 4 might discounted to 2AP to make fiery ecosystem 1 AP used to teach Porries how to make fire end: 5 might, 0 AP Ferryman 5MP/2AP 4MP: Create [url=https://media.discordapp.net/attachments/550431755719409675/1008103378053767338/unknown.png?width=1189&height=669]Porries[/url], a race of fire-headed humanoids who drink fire/lava. They are by nature passionate and quick-tempered, and their connection to fire forces them to live close to sources of carbon or lava. If their fire goes out, they die, and thus they live very precarious lives. Their closeness with death makes it something to be celebrated, not feared. 1MP: Teach the Porries how to boat (build/sail/maintain) 1AP, down from 2: Build the Ghostel, a monument which serves as an inn and spa for ghosts. Attracts other ghosts to it if these ghost know about it somehow, kind of like any fancy hotel/spa. Invisible to the living. End: 0MP/1AP. [/hider] [hider=Summary] Okay so we open up with Po on top of a seaborn mountain. Like it’s a mountain peak surrounded by shallow sea. Anyway, she is there eating everything when an elf shows up. Po is feeling playful and accidentally blasts the fucker. Cut to Ferryman. His boat is full of complaining dead things so he decides to build them a ghostel to put them in whie he figures shit out… only to get the contract for the elf that Po just vaporized. Long story short, Ferryman arrives to take the soul but Po doesn’t want the soul to leave yet and so the two have an explosive and heated tussle that results in the creation of a volcanic archipelago in an otherwise frozen area as well as the creation of various fire themed fauna and flora but more importantly, the Porries. The Porries are fire-haired humanoids who drink flames and die when their fire gets extinguished. The two god spit aside their scrap and work together to baby the new sentients. [/hider]