The Plague Doctor's Worskshop

[Lauder]

I will be keeping forms and stuff here purely so I don't forget about them.

Clocktowerechoes's Endless War - Orruks

Nation Profile Scheme

The Red Fang Orruks

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Overview

The Red Fang Orruk "empire" is truly on massive Orruk clan that has conquered most of its surrounding competition and has enslaved a large population of lizardmen known as the Kashar. They mainly live in a harsh desert climate though the populated centers are along the river that strikes the nation in half.

Geography

Map Claim

Blood red portion

The Red Fang Orruks inhabit a very large portion of desert that has a large river cutting through the center of it that leads to a rather large delta at the end. The river sports wetlands that branch off of it, the wetlands have some trees and many reeds growing. The wetlands are often converted into farmlands for the Orruks. The south bears mountains, often which the Orruks set small mining outpost in though there is one fortress there known as Vaxibra where most of the metal is forced into the weapons that are used.

There are many small settlements dotting the deserts that the Orruks so happen to inhabit. The settlements within the delta and along the river so happen to be the largest and most fortified. The capital, Orizagoth, is the largest settlement ever created and it became so because the Red Fangs are the leading force of the Orruks.

History

The Red Fang Orruks originally started out as a small clan that acted like the rest of the sounding clans that inhabited the delta. They fought and killed each other like the savages that they were, they were merciless and bloodthirsty just as all other races saw the Orruks. However, the Red Fangs were a special breed of Orruk, not physically, as they cannibalized on other Orruk clans constantly believing that more power would be gotten from this. Eventually there came a time where the Red Fangs had began raising others without break, miraculously they were winning.

With the birth of Zing-Zing Blood Fang, the Red Fangs began to conquer more land by practicing their savage ways through his cunning and merciless combat tactics. Instead of charging blindly into combat like most other Orruks, he would bait other clans into traps where he would slaughter them with an army of untrained militia. It was through his training that the Red Fangs conceived the concept of taking other clans to bolster their forces.

Zing-Zing became chieftain by popular vote of the entire clan at the age of 25, resulting in the death of the previous chieftain and the the ritual cannibalization of the body by Zing-Zing. A day of remembrance was declared for the new chieftain, a day of celebration that resulted in the death and conception of many Orruks. It was a day that two other clans were brought under control of the Red Fangs purely due to how bloody the celebration was. Needless to say, Zing-Zing showed amazing promise as a cheiftan for the Orruks.

Zing-Zing reign began with an advantage because the Orruks were finally becoming unified under one banner which was nearly impossible for others to do. It forever changed the local culture and way of war, two other empires formed as a result and seemed to reap bloody vengeance against each other. Zing-Zing would have none of this and began the large warpath that any Orruck had ever seen. This warpath number in almost ten-thousand that overtook the entire delta in less than a month. New tactics were developed, new technologies had come into play such as the ballista which destroyed any fortification that had been put up against the warpath and it destroyed infantry lines. It took years, decades for the warpath to conquer the final holding of the known Orruks. This brought a time of unneeded peace to the Orruks who did not desire such things.

Naturally, they began expanding into the surrounding deserts and made settlements on the frontier where the Orruks would constantly hunt the wildlife to satisfy the bloodlust. That was before they met a more docile race that only wished peace for the entire world to know. The first meeting went a little like this... Blood and carnage upon the peaceful race. This began the first of many wars which was merged under one war called "The Century War" which gradually ceded land to the Red Fangs. Zing-Zing led battles against the unknown enemy himself, finding his tactics to be a bit outdated as the lizardmen held their own through their quick Calvary strikes and hidden camouflage.

This was the first time that Zing-Zing's leadership had been questioned, bringing the Orruks to began squabbling amongst one another. However, they were rallied by Zing-Zing's son, Zippy Blood Fang, through the words of "Da enemy foight, den we bring da foight ta' dem!" It was not the best speech, but for the Orruks it was something to celebrate about and that celebration began the downfall to the lizardmen known as the Kashar. The ballistas had been repurposed to be defensive tools of war to fire nets which would tie up the Kashar Calvary, literally.

Zing-Zing began another warpath against the Kashar, fighting them himself and destroying their armies before they would eventually surrender everything they owned to the Orruks. The Kashar would get one final action before the end, they killed Zing-Zing. The one who did so was only known as Giresh the Bloodthirsty who killed Zing-Zing with an arrow to the back and a spear thrust through the skull of the Orruk. Afterwards, Zippy would become chieftain due to how rallying he was to the people. He enslaved the Kashar, making a food source out of them and having them annually hunted and slaughtered. Zippy is the current leader of the Red Fangs.

Government

The Red Fangs are led by a singular cheiftan who essentially makes all the executive decisions for the entire kingdom as well as have the honor of leading a warpath. The cheiftan rules for as long as lives, when the cheiftan dies a new one is elected through popular vote. This vote tends to include whoever draws in the largest shouting crowd. Whoever has the noisiest crowd becomes the cheiftan, man or woman. The current cheiftan would be Zippy Blood Fang, son of Zing-Zing Blood Fang.

Race Description

The Orruks are a large and muscular race, even the females of this race are large and muscular. They are naturally colored to be green or black, they're eyes often being red, brown, green, or blue. The Orruks sport an underbite with two rather large incisors poking out from the bottom. This race is rather strong, having the strength of five men and having the endurance of the same amount. Of course, they take this for granted and do not rely on the intelligence as much even though they are as smart as humans. The Orruks are savage and often prey upon the dead who get in their path, even their own kind if they did in battle.

The slaves

The Kashar are a slave race that are put into eternal servitude by the Orruks. They are a frail and weak race of lizardmen that are close to being considered endangered due to how often they are set loose for hunting by the Orruks.

Culture

Orruks are constantly seen as savage beasts who want nothing more than to fight the good fight, which is not far from the truth. Orruk life is built around the mentality that fighting is the only thing that will make you grow stronger and get you any popularity if the cheiftan dies. Granted, they are exceptionally prideful of the fact that they are Orruks and regard themselves as "da best fightas in da worl'". Whether this hold any truth or not has yet to be seen as Orruks find training without death to be useless. The only good teacher for fighting is the battlefield.

The Red Fangs have several holidays, all of which put a warpath on race that so happens to be nearby though those are the smaller holidays. "Zing-Zing's crowning" is a rather popular holiday that gets the Orruks to begin fighting one another or doing less than appropriate things with one another. The is so much alcohol involved that even the Dwarves would be jealous.

Economy/Industry

The Red Fangs are known to trade away their brutish weapons in exchange for food or the likes as the desert does not support much land for farming, though this does not mean the populous is starving by any means. They are known to hold extensive amounts of slaves from any race that gets raided by them though the largest in number would be the Kashar. A majority of their wealth comes from loot that they procure through raids that they hold annually on anyone who gets to close to their lands or whenever they feel like it. They raid with a specially made ballista that can fire just about anything and make it deadly with the exception of pillows... though that is still being tested.

Magic

Lore of Flames

Name: Fireball
Lore: Flames
Type: Offensive, AOE
Short Description: This is a generic fireball spell that is cast at an enemy at far or short range, it may exploded on contact to damage nearby enemies.

Name: Flaming Body
Lore: Flames
Type: Offensive, Buff
Short Description: The Flaming Bodies spell may be cast on many people all at once, allowing the receiver to becoming englulfed in fire. The fire is harmless to those who bare it, however, it will hurt anyone that that person is charging at. This makes melee combat especially hard for the defender.

Name: Wave of Fire
Lore: Flames
Type: Offensive, AOE
Short Description: The Wave of Fire is exactly how it sounds, the spell unleashes a big wave of fire that washes over enemies and generally sets everything on fire before the wave itself dissipates after a few meters from the target.

Lore of da Raid

Name: Gotta move right fast!
Lore: Lore of da Raid
Type: Buff
Short Description: This buff makes a person or persons move exceptionally quickly, allowing for a charge to get to its target quicker or in case a group needs to run away from a fight.

Name: Squigs
Lore: Lore of da Raid
Type: Debuff, AOE, Offensive
Short Description: This particular spell melts armor of a unit from a ball special acid that also makes the unit a target to the Orruks who will stop at nothing to get to who is coated in this, primarily to devour them.

Name: Chompa
Lore: Lore of da Raid
Type: Offensive, AOE, Debuff
Short Description: This spell makes the very earth itself hungry for blood, the earth unleashes its teeth and swallows up anyone that is in the target location. Of course, those who aren't killed will have a bit of a time getting out.

Name: Get frothin' ya gits!
Lore: Lore of da Raid
Type: Support, Buff
Short Description: This spell can enrage a person, allowing the targeted person to ignore some wounds and continue to fight on. You would not want an enraged Orruk charging you.

Name: Take der' skin!
Lore: Lore of da Raid
Type: Offensive, Support, AOE
Short Description: This spell transfers the life force of another unit to someone else of the caster's choice, often healing an allied unit of the caster themselves.

Military

-Heavy Range Damage
-Heavy Charge Damage
-High Defense
-Low Mobility
-Lacking Arial Units
-Lacking Magical units

Tier 1

Name: Grotz
Type: Light Axemen
Short Description: Grotz are often considered the first path that new recruits go into. They wear little armor and they are equipped with makeshift axes, maybe even some wooden shields, that the recruits have made themselves.

Name: Zingas
Type: Light Archers
Short Description: Zingers are another path that newer recruits go into, granted it is smaller than the Grotz. They also wear little armor and are equipped with makeshift bows with crude arrows.

Name: Ridaz
Type: Light Calvary
Short Description: Ridaz are the final path that recruits go into, the smallest path due to the rarity of Orruks that want to ride horses. They wear little to no armor and are equipped with crude swords or axes, they ride horses.

Tier Two

Name: Skulltakaz
Type: Medium Axemen
Short Description: This is the step up from the Grotz, they actually wear some decent armor with a metal chestplate while leather covers the rest. They wield two hand axes with a backup pair, allowing this unit to harass at a range.

Name: Skulltakaz (shields)
Type: Medium Axemen
Short Description: This is the step up from the Grotz, they actually wear some decent armor with a metal chestplate while leather covers the rest. They wield a hand axe and a metal shield, they have a backup axe incase the first is lost

Name: Horsestoppaz
Type: Light Spearmen
Short Description: Whule having leather armor and a wooden shield, this unit does have rather large spears that it constantly boasts. If the spear is lost the unit also has a secondary short sword.

Name: Shootaz
Type: Light Archers
Short Description: A direct upgrade from the Zingas, they where leather armor and are equipped with professionally made short bows. They are trained a bit better than the Zingas with combat experience.

Name: Grognaks
Type: Heavy Infantry
Short Description: Grognaks are a sort of shock infantry meant to take an enemy charge. While they have heavy armor, a shield, and shortsword; they lack the skill to be a tier higher.

Tier 3

Name: Dakkas
Type: Heavy Spearmen
Short Description: Dakkas are heavily armored shock troopers meant to fully stop an enemy charge, even heavy Calvary if they position themselves right. They are armed with strong spears, a large metal shield, and a shortsword.

Name: Dakkas (Greatweapons)
Type: Heavy Infantry
Short Description: Dakkas are heavily armored shock troopers meant to break an enemy quickly and effectively. They are armed with greatswords, great axes, and warhammers.

Name: Cross Shootaz
Type: Medium Archers
Short Description: Cross Shootaz have an exceptional range and are protected with same armor as Skulltakaz. Their weapons include crossbows and a backup longsword for melee combat.

Name: Shamanz
Type: Light Mages
Short Description: Shamanz are the core magic units that are often in short supply. They wear robes made of furs and are equipped with a shortsword and staff.

Name: Throwaz
Type: Artillery
Short Description: Throwaz are ballistas that are able to fire literally anything or anyone, they especially like setting the ammunition on fire or they fire just plain bolts.

Tier 4

Name: Barkaz
Type: Heavy Calvary
Short Description: Barkaz are the heavy Calvary responsible for shattering enemies with a flank. The Barkaz are mounted on heavily armored dire wolves, they themselves also heavily armored. They have lances, short swords, and shields. They know discipline and war very well.

Name: Wrekaz
Type: Heavy Infantry
Short Description: Wrekaz are an elite fighting unit equipped with a metal shield and flaming swords. They are meant to deter enemies more than actually fight, but that does not mean they can't handle themselves in a fight.

Name: Destroyaz
Type: Heavy Artillery
Short Description: The Destroya is a devastating artillery unit that excels at destroying an enemy charge. It is a ballista that is able to fire multiple bolt at once in a hail.

Name: Sistaz of the Raid
Type: Heavy Infantry/Archers
Short Description: The Sistaz are the one core of only women in the Orruk army, they have their breasts removed to gain more honour. They are heavily armored, highly skilled, and ruthless. They are equipped with a magical great axes that can send lightning at an their enemies.

Lord/Hero Format

Name: Zippy, Son of Zing-Zing
Position: Cheiftan of the Orruks
Powers: Being the Chieftan, Zippy has wields a great axe, Whompa, that makes him abnormally stronger than any Orruk conceived, even when not wielding the axe.
Short Bio/Personality:
Zippy is a rather charismatic Orruk who can gather a Warband within hours purely through his words, he is just as bloodthirsty and savage as any Orruk, however, he is as polite as his biology allows. He came into power through the election by the Orruk people, meaning he had to devour his father's corpse.

Military Explaining/Crunchy Bits

Now we get into the interesting meat and bones of the NS. This is going to get a bit complicated, warning you now. Your units can be divided the following categories:

• Light
• Medium
• Heavy
• Large

These should be fair self explanatory to anyone whose played strategy games before. Light, Medium, and Heavy all refer to the armor and weaponry of the unit, a group of archers with bows and daggers might be light infantry while full plate armored soldiers with great weapons would be Heavy. That said, relying solely on a single type of unit has obvious tactical drawbacks. Large refer to things larger than the average soldier, things such as Minotaurs, Giants, and Chaos Spawn would all count. Large units also tend to be Monsters units aka anything that's not a normal human/zombie/dwarf/elf/etc; all Monstrous units count as Large but not all Large units have to be Monsters.

Tiers
Basic separation of units by their quality, also should be familiar to many people who play strategy games. I will not be putting any hard limits and will hope that everyone can make good decisions on this and make stuff somewhat balanced out. That said, if there is something truly ridiculous, I will be stepping in.

• Tier 1 - Units of this tier should be something like the weakest of your army or otherwise the least impressive. Things such as militia, conscripts, peasants, and slaves should be in this level.
• Tier 2 - This is where your professional army starts to come in and its also the lowest a cavalry unit and artillery can go.
• Tier 3 - Special/Elite units should occupy this slot. Something like knights or an elite version of one of your Tier 2 (or even 1) units should go here.
• Tier 4 - The cream of the crop, this slot boasts the finest soldiers and warriors your nation/race can produce. Wether they be the most brutal, the most technological, the most experienced, these troops should understandably be few in number but legendary fighters.

Heroes and Lords
Lords are people who rule you race or nation and are asskickers in of themselves. Try to only have 1 or 2 at max. If you've already explained one in your government section and don't want to do another, you can skip over the lord section. Lords cannot be killed, only wounded unless you really want to kill them off. Heroes on the other hand are like Lord in beta-testing. They can be great warriors, powerful officers/leaders or mystical spell casters. They act similar to Lord albeit less powerful. Like Lords, they too can be wounded but they do tend to have slightly higher death rates.

Pros and Cons
Just a simple little thing to let everyone else get an overall feel for your army in a more direct way. I do expect some semblance of balance here, probably more so. I don't want to see anyone be extremely good at everything and then only have one downside. Pros and Cons should be something visible or RPable that you will do. If you say you lack archers or ranged then I shouldn't see much range in your unit roster. If you say that troops have poor moral, then I should see them be much more panicky and rout more often in-game compared to other soldiers.

[Lauder]

THE GREATEST POST I WORKED ON

My Hider

The Trickster awoke on Cogitare groggily. He had fallen asleep after the journey into the mind. He extended his senses and leaped to his feet. "By Fate! I have slumbered for far too long! There is no telling what the others have been up to in my absence. Why did I sleep for so long though...?" Suddenly, a voice tinged with malice and spite spoke in his mind. Take a wild guess. Upon hearing the familiar voice, Vakarlon growled angrily. He did not speak aloud but rather mockingly replied as Serandor had. So that's all you can do now? Help me get a nice refreshing sleep? I feel energized and rejuvenated! The Fiery One Within responded without missing a beat. Yep. That's my job now, make sure you get a nice refreshing sleep of a few million years while we fight for dominance inside that fleshy, once-mortal noggin of yours. This way, my body will be healthy when I finally claim it.

Vakarlon shook his "fleshy once-mortal noggin" and decided to stop arguing with the voice in his head and go talk to Vulamera. She would have kept a close eye on what the others had been up to. He closed his eyes and began to concentrate. Vulamera had been inside his mind briefly while digging for memories and as such, he had a simple time finding her. He sprouted a pair of wings made of fire and flew to the moon Vigilate where Vulamera meditated. While he hated to disturb such peace and concentration, he felt she would be interested in learning how long Serandor had kept him asleep. Not realizing his footsteps made no sound due to his nature, he calmly walked up behind her and spoke. "So I was asleep for a few million years battling Serandor inside my mind. Did I miss anything important? "

"Yes." Vulamera did not move a muscle, nor even lift an eyelid, as she spoke to him in the creaking yet calm voice of an ancient. "Sentient races rise now from the depths of animal instinct, chaotic landscapes pollute the once-pure land, and our siblings draw ever closer to a war threatening it all. Galbar has changed, my friend, and I have changed along with it. This world is a different one from that which you must remember."

"Sentients, chaos and the looking threat of war between beings capable of tearing apart the world they've worked to build... The new look is interesting though. I see you have decided to join the crowd and have a tangible form. " Vakarlon became serious once more and his face showed signs of worry with old memories in his eyes. "What lines are being drawn in the sand between the others?"

The Goddess's lips bent downward in a guilty frown. "I shall not decieve you- I have a place in the discord that has erupted on our fair world. Not long ago, I was just moments away from blows with The Fool of Cha- I mean, with Zephyrion." A sigh released itself from her wrinkled body, her eyes easing open, and lifting up to meet Vakarlon's. "I am to blame for much of this tension. Judge me not! I did what I had to, in defense of my only begotten son..."

Vakarlon sighed and sat beside her. "If war is inevitable, then I suppose all that's left is gather one's strength and-" He stopped, blinking with surprise. "You have a son? When did that happen? Who is the father? I have missed far too much..."

A smirk danced across Vulamera's face. "First, answer me this: who do you least expect?"

Vakarlon thought hard "Well, my first guess would be Zephyrion but you came into conflict with him over the child's well-being... You can't be serious. Vestec is the father?! When you said Galbar had changed, I had thought I had stayed in the same reality!" Vakarlon looked at her in disbelief, certain that one of the changes was that Vulamera had adopted his mischeivous ways and was making a joke at his expense.

"It is not what you think..." She rose to her knees and shook loose the clinging, pale dust of Vigilate. "...it was not consensual- not for either of us. Following my successful excursion into your mental domain, I believed that I could gain further insights within Vestec's mind."

She paused for a moment. "Here. This will serve as a fitting explanation for things which words cannot express." Her hand buzzed like a hive with the blinding sapphire glow of psionic energy.

An old finger tapped once lightly on Vakarlon's forhead, filling his mind with memories of recent occurances. All that had happened since the events on Cogitare was injected into Vakarlon's mind, barring private details regarding Vestec's thoughts, or the exact makeup of Vulamera's creations.

Vakarlon absorbed the knowledge quickly. It was almost as if his mind had already been dimly aware of the events on Galbar. He nodded with understanding, fully grasping how serious the situation was becoming. A madman hunted the Goddess of Life. Vestec gathered his forces of Chaos. Vakarlon narrowed his eyes at the thought of this. His homeworld had been devastated by a dark deity with an unnecessary army of followers, he'd be damned if he was going to let the same happen to Galbar. If Vestec wanted bloodshed and destruction, he'd find himself on equal footing. He sensed Serandor rolling his non-existent eyes "Oh, how noble, you won't let the silly mortals you have no real connection to be terrorized by my counterpart simply because you are unsure if you can ever truly recover what was lost. You are not doing this out of nobility or heroism, you are doing it out of regret. Regret you couldn't save them. Regret that you weren't there to stop my dear worshippers as they slowly skinned your loved ones alive. Admit it. You are not as benevolent as you wish to be. You merely want to soothe the burns of guilt. Burns that will linger until the end of this universe and possibly longer. You might as well just give up control to me. I can make your annihilation painless and swift if you only surrender. "

Vakarlon stiffened. Outwardly he said "I understand Vulamera, my friend. " Inwardly, he berated his Inner Demon. Be silent fool. You mock and torment because you rage helplessly at being naught more than my overly talkative supper. You say I have no true attachment to mortals? I shall create my own. You think I couldn't save them? It isn't over. Now that you have faced the retribution for your crimes, I have the power to bring them back. I merely need to learn how. You are pathetic. So much potential and power and all you did was break that which your betters had made.

With this, the Destroyer simmered silently with rage but said no more. Vakarlon was then able to give his friend the attention she deserved. "Yes, Galbar has certainly changed. There is much to be done."

Vulamera tilted her head curiously to one side. "Is there, now? And what do you propose to do about it? I intend on abandoning Galbar in favor of a new world. Clearly, it is far too late to rescue our creation from the ravaging claws of Chaos, and the relentless stranglehold of Darkness." She had resigned the earth to this fate.

Vakarlon shook his head. "No. If we begin to work on a new world it too will come to their attention. We should not let our creation be ruined so easily. I for one will stay and stand against the Mad Ones. I refuse to let Dark Gods rampage unopposed. Still, I am but one and even with your help and Niciel we would be outnumbered. The Balance which I hold dear is greatly imperiled and Logos, the would-be keeper of Law has already given up and fled." Vakarlon was pensive. After a minute, he spoke. "The mortals need another champion. One capable of doing battle with the likes of Grot. Perhaps we should forge such a champion. "

Vulamera's eye took on a deep and serious aura. Behind them, Vakarlon could spy her thoughts grinding onward like gears in a well-oiled machine. "Remember who you're speaking to, Vakarlon. I am not confused by vagueness." She chuckled. "You mean to propose a Demigod, do you not?"

Vakarlon blushed mildly. "Indeed I do. Do you accept my suggestion?" Vakarlon had thought of a way to fashion such a child already. One that would not cause discomfort and innuendo in their friendship.

His companion and prospective fellow parent seemed to study him intently, observing everything from the form he presented himself in to the way he stood. After what felt like centuries but could only have been a few awkward minutes, she responded. "You are Chaotic. This child will need to be of law, so that it may beat back the forces crawling below. If this is acceptable, than I agree. Afterall, no force, bar deities themselves, are more powerful in war than a Demigod- and, it pains me to say, war is what it may well take to save Galbar.

Vakarlon nodded. "I understand of course. Combat draws nearer and nearer. We must be sure the child gravitates to the right side of the fight. A champion of Order is absolutely necessary."

"I'm impressed! You truly are not a Child God, as our siblings unfortunately all are." She cleared her throat.

"Now. How do you propose we go about this child-making? I would surely hope you are not expecting any carnal acts." Vulamera winked, to show that she was only teasing.

It felt odd, teasing. She had never done so before.

"I can enter your mind, and from there allow your divine essence to merge with my own, as was done with Vestec and I. We must be watchful, though, of the Fiery One- you know who I speak of. He will not suffer this new God to be born without first attempting some plan."

Vakarlon smiled and chuckled. "No, I was not thinking of carnal acts. While that may be the traditional way for mortals and some of our brethren, I don't think that is the best way to bring the child into being. I was thinking of actually fashioning the child from some material but the merging of minds would be a better strategy. I feel the Destroyer is locked away to some extent. Or at the very least, sulking."

Vulamera nodded. "Yes, he is locked away. I could sense that much for the brief time spent within your thoughts. It is almost like... a cage, with bars of iron. Those bars are strong, but weakening every second."

"Regardless, when I am merged with you, I perhaps can strengthen your hold on Serandor, while simultaneously forming the Demigod. If possible, I would like not to delay. Are you ready?"

"Indeed I am. The prospect of a stronger hold on Serandor is certainly appealing as well. I am ready when you are. I should warn you though, at times I feel him rage against the bars. I would not advise going too near the cage.

I do not think the bars will break, but it is certain he will try to work his mischief. Be wary of him as you enter my consciousness once more. He struck at you with malice the last time you met. "

Vulamera closed her eyes. At her silent command, an almost Zephyrionic whirlwind of fog lurched into the airless moon. It wrapped itself around Vakarlon's eyes and senses with a serpentine twist, hiding from him all that which is not inherit to the mind or inner-being. The insectiod buzzing invaded what remained of the subject's hearing, so as to weaken any lingering subconcious hesistation from him.

The Transcendent Mother entered in.

---

Stone bricks stretched onward into infinity. A reeling Vulamera had arrived in Vakarlon's mind. She began stumbling to her feet, but fell right back down to the earthen dirt-floor as a mortifying roar made the atmosphere tremble.

"Your inner-being manifests itself as a dungeon, friend." Vulamera spoke out to her host who, while not he could not present himself physically, would be receptive to her speech. "I must wonder what this signifies? Are you somehow caged... or is someone else? Perhaps our reincarnated friend?"

An answer came to the Shadow's inquiry in the form of yet another ground-shaking roar.

She stood, succesfully this time, and gazed about the world manifested within the Trickster. She realized that her previous observation had proven somewhat false: this was not a dungeon, but a maze.

The bricks did indeed stretch onward into infinity, but only to her north, as a massive hallway with no end. In stricking constrast, her progress to the east and west was opposed by stalwart stone walls like sentinels. She scowled. The only way forward was south.

Sadly, she had no way of knowing which south. Two alternate paths lay in that direction: one a hallway of shining white marble, the other a corridor of lightless obsidian.

"I would simply love to explore the entirety of your mentality, friend Vakarlon, but I fear that we must be direct here. I do not suspect Serandor-" An interrupting roar punctuated the pronuciation of his name. "...as I was saying, I do not suspect he will allow me to remain long. It would not be beyond him to push me from you, if he did so with zest and determination.

"So then, which path do you feel is the quickest one to whatever is at at the end of this maze? For it is there, I think, that your Essence will be found."

Vakarlon's voice echoed throughout the maze. "I would advise the marble hallway. It is a far more pleasant path. However, if you see a lion I would not advise approaching him. The Fiery One seems to favor the form of the Beast King when caged. Also, I do not mean to be rude but if you see any statues, please leave them be."

"Be careful around lions? I guess you will next tell me that fire is hot? Should I also avoid drinking poison? But yes, I will leave the statues to rest as they are."

"Fire is indeed very hot and not drinking poison is indeed sound advice. It is good you are able to generate such sheer wisdom. I digress however, thank you for leaving the statues be."

"Generating wisdom is my job, thank you for noticing!"

It was then that another voice like crackling flame whispered through the air. "Young goddess in the mind of my tormentor, may I speak with you? I was once like you... As the voice spoke, screams echoed from throughout the labyrinth like the grating of stone against metal.

"We may speak, yes," Vulamera cautiously said, "but I fail to see how we are alike in any concievable way. You were once free, that much is true, but you utilized that freedom in a very different manner than myself."

"There was another time. One before I became the Destroyer. Believe it or not, I quested for knowledge long ago. When I sought learning and intelligence, I was surrounded by savages, mad gods and petty tyrants much as you are. For countless eras I did my best to persevere and keep the universe from falling apart. Eventually, I simply couldn't take being alone against so many foes. I felt fury, nay, I felt emotion for the very first time. I struck out against one of the legion of fools that stood against me. With my power of the mind and planning, I destroyed my foe with ease. It was then that I felt more happiness than I ever had before. That Universe did not deserve knowledge and enlightenment as it was mostly designed by squabbling children who cared not for their playthings. I realized that my true purpose was not to save the Universe but to cast wrathful judgement upon it. I set about purging the corruption from reality and destroyed many worlds before I crossed paths with the one who holds me captive. Tell me Scholar, have you not felt the anger within? The desire to break and judge all in your path? I can see the misery in your soul."

Vulamera's eyes widened in slight surprise, then quickly narrowed in distrust. "One who lies so confidently must be a truly foul being. But I can see through it. You were never a God of Intelligence, nor of Knowledge: I felt your mind once before, Serandor, when you burned my soul. It was the essence of destruction, of decay and collapse. Knowledge builds, Knowledge grows- you are not of Knowledge."

Even as she spoke, the speech of Serandor seeped into Vulamera's heart like a venom. She was certain his words were lies, but what of herself? She had twice now felt the urge to destroy her foolish siblings, to cast down their idiotic creations or burn their wicked paths. She could be judge, jury and executioner...

No! A voice inside her suddenly cried out. When knowledge is used as a weapon, it defeats its own purpose. You are holier than this, Transcendent Mother.

The Goddess knelt down, running her hand across the floor of Vakarlon's psyche. The floor was of rough, cracked bricks. Upon contact with the ground, a thirsty, sanguine liquid clung to Vulamera's fingertips. "Is that... blood?"

In the dark of the dungeon, she had not seen it earlier, but now realized that much of the floor was coated in someone's- she could only wonder who's- fresh blood.

A blue flame burst into life at her command, eager to guide the way. With the room now lit in a cold sapphire glow, the contrasting red of the blood stood out stunningly.

Serandor chuckled from the dark and the screams echoed from close by. "I am indeed lying in this case. However, I sense that deep down, you know it could have been true. I have always been the Vengeful One, the Wrathful Judgement of Fate and the one to wash all the filth away with blood. Tell me, what do mortals do with knowledge? They turn it to death and slaughter half the time. Their advancements serve two purposes: to improve their own lives and to destroy the lives of others. I am Destruction. I am the only possible end. You fight a losing battle. Knowledge cannot last and eventually the 'Child Gods' as you call them will ruin all that you have built. Even now, you see some of the madness within your closest ally's mind. That blood you see? It is the blood of his loved ones. I have a feeling that you will be seeing them shortly, they really aren't at their best..." Serandor deliberately trailed off, and he seemed rather eager to have Vulamera investigate where the blood led.

Vulamera stooped down to track the blood more closely, and walked along the path it set out. It bent first into the marble path.

The Goddess was forced to cover her eyes as the dull light of her flame bounced off the shining white walls of this passage, again and again, creating a blinding prism of blue light.

"Ah!", she gasped. A snap of her fingers extinguished the flame- its light vanishing along with it- though the pain lingered. It took a moment, but she soon realized that the pain was tinted with suffering, not the fleshly sensation but the divine essence of suffering. Just as Vestec carries within him the essence of Chaos, and Vulamera holds the essence of Mind, Vakarlon's Chance and Serandor's Destruction had managed to fuse into one, single power: suffering.

This was odd, to say the very least. Vulamera had never before encountered a God with not one, not two, but three separate divine essences within him. Even Vestec was just a combination of half-formed Gods, which had never fully developed their own divine identity, and thus all shared the essence of Chaos together. Vakarlon, though, was apparently hosting the power of many potential Gods within him: his own power of Trickery, Serandor's of Destruction, and... another power, Suffering, which was some conglomeration of them both.

"Vakarlon, do you feel this? Suffering. It is not yours, it is not your adversary's, but rather an unnatural fusion of both. It's amazing."

Vakarlon spoke, his voice quietly echoing throughout the labyrinth. "I feel suffering both as an emotion and as a power that lurks within. One I could master due to my knowledge of it but one I have no desire to master. Another name for the power you sense is Misfortune.

When destruction and chance are combined, what else can there be but misery and ruin? For every gambler that saves himself and his family with his vice, there are at least ten who bring hardship on both. Those who are wronged by chance suffer greatly as there is no true motive to their woe.

At least the cruel tyrant and the marauding bandit desire something from a person. Chance is heartless and simply uncaring. While I try to emphasize its positive characteristics in a world like this, all has a dark side to it. Serandor took it upon himself to lecture you on the destructive uses of knowledge, for those millions of years in which I slumbered he taunted me with how Chance almost always brings more hardship than it does good.

For every king who defeats a great and terrible foe by chance, there are countless peasants who starve because a drought wiped out their crop. I wish it were not so but it is. Serandor and his Destruction, when combined with Chance, can produce little else. This unnatural fusion you have found is of equal parts his and mine."

"You are correct," Vulamera chimed in," and I understand how you must feel. My own domain is similar: for every man gifted with genius, there are a hundred inflicted with retardation. For every thinker or scholar, there's a legion of fools waiting to leer at his revelations. Yet, they belong to Mind as well, for I am the Goddess of their foolishness just as I am the Goddess of brilliance.

"As Gods, it is not our place to attempt defining such concepts as good or evil, positive or negative, fortune or misfortune. We exist in another state entirely, which resides far beyond those mortal notions. Our task is to bring our wills into the universe- nothing more, nothing less."

"It is of no import however. We have a duty to creation and a new champion to call forth from the void. One that I hope can remove some of the wanton destruction and suffering sown by Misfortune."

Vulamera said nothing in response. She knew, without regret, that Vakarlon's well-meaning wishes would not be satisfied. Not as long as Serandor existed.

Vakarlon was no fool however. He noticed Vulamera's silence and sighed deeply. "I take it the child will not be one to relieve pain and suffering but one to spread it. So be it. The world already has plenty of pain and suffering, it can take a little more since we're in this for the long run. Let's make a champion."

"I am sorry, Vakarlon. Your child will never be kind. Not as long as Serandor exists. It is in the nature of destruction to spread like wildfire, until nothing remains. It will seep into the soul of any child we create, corrupting it to lean towards amorality."

"I fully understand. So be it. If a fiend is to be the result then at least our fiend will be on the right side. I will of course be working to eradicate Serandor utterly. Until then, a villain fighting the correct enemies will have to suffice."

"Indeed."

Vulamera dropped into silence once more, as she cautiously walked along the marble path, following the ever-stretching blood trail.

A heavy sigh, mixed of both excitement and exasperation, escaped Vulamera's lips as she came to realize how truly complex Vakarlon's mind was. Vestec's was random, her own was indescribably detailed, but Vakarlon's was... confusing, even for her. Everytime she dared to glance up from the blood she followed like a torch lighting her way, she would become nauseated and disoriented by the shining walls and twisting, unpredictable pathways. Vakarlon was a maze.

A wave of nausea forced her to glance back down to the floor. Clearly, the blood was her only hope of navigating.

And so she did. Diligently sticking to the red-soaked way, she found herself turning left, then right, then right again, so on and so on for what could have been days. Possibly weeks? Something akin to boredom almost came over her. Would this maze have no end?

It might not, she realised. Afterall, this is purely a mental realm. It doesn't have to follow the laws of reality. There is a real, frightening possiblity that the maze goes on forever.

Steeling herself for the confusion that would no doubt attack her, the Goddess timidly glanced up, to see if anything had changed.

Nothing had. In all directions, the marble stretched onwards. To her left was another branch in the path followed by another, to her right a solid white wall, but to no direction was there an escape.

Earlier the Goddess's confidence would not have allowed her to consider this option, but now no other choice was left.

"Serandor, is there any way you may aid me? I'm... lost. I blame you, for the record. It's your influence that is making this mind so hard to understand."

The wicked lion of fire laughed from the darkness. "I could of course guide you despite your intense dislike of me. However, I am a bit tied up at the moment. Follow the sound of my voice to me, loosen these chains just a little and I will happily assist you through the Trickster's maze."

Vulamera's brow furrowed in disbelief. "You must take me for a fool! It is utterly against my principles to alter the contents of any deity's mind. I would not free Emotion, and likewise, I will not loosen your bonds, nor would I strengthen them."

When the Fiery One replied, he was completely unfazed. "Odd that the goddess of the mind will not meddle in her own domain. If you will not loosen my bonds then I cannot help you at all even though I wish to. If you will not change your mind, then I wish you the best of chances . Farewell, good scholar. I hope you find your way."

The Transcedent Mother spoke without emotion. Her words were almost of a robotic cadence. "If I meddled, no God or Goddess would dare trust me within their mind. Would you allow me in your thoughts, if you knew I might change them? Of course not. You would be a fool to do so. Therefore, I must promise every deity whose mind I enter that it will be the same mind when I leave. Brainwashing is not a practice I indulge in." Vulamera paused to think for a moment.

"If you truly are interested in helping me, O Caged One, I may enter your mind personally and simply extract the information leading me through the maze. It would be most fascinating, to see a mind within a mind. Furthermore, you seem to be arguing that I hate you largely because I do not understand you. While it is not true that I have any negative feelings towards you- only ones of distrust- this would be an oppurtunity to prove that I have misjudged you. For if I am within your thoughts, I will know for sure if my distrust was justified." She added with a ghost of a smirk, "And, of course, you can be sure that I would not meddle."

"This maze is always changing as the mind is a fluid thing. It takes instinct, not knowledge to navigate it. However, you are certainly welcome to enter my mind since our dear host seems to be missing and you can follow that wonderful crimson path of painful memories to yours truly."

---

Ages passed by, while the Goddess of Mind walked along that blood-stained trail. Mortals were born and died, families were formed and torn apart, buildings erected and crumpled back to the earth, and still she walked.

Until the maze ended.

Before her lay a room of the coldest, grayest stone bricks, like those found in King's dungeons. Blood wept across every inch of the floor, so thickly that Vulamera could not see the ground she stood on. It was a swamp of crimson.

Rising up from that sea of death were three cracked and beaten statues, each possessing faces warped in torment, with eyes coated in dry blood. In their hands were strong, steel chains, two feet wide at the least.

Vulamera's eyes followed them from the statues to the throat of him: the Fiery One, the Lion of Torment, the Beast of Rage, the Bringer of Destruction- Serandor.

Lying there, beyond the golden gates that had been left wide open was a lion with black fur, a mane of fire, pools of darkness for eyes, iron claws and fangs. The beast was chained and unable to pass through the gate. Beyond the room of cold gray bricks, was a desolate wasteland that appeared to be a forest that had burned, nay been blasted with unnatural fire. The lion shook his mane and stood up. The statue's screeched once more as he spoke "Ah, Vulamera, I see you have found me without incident. You'll have to pardon the décor, Vakarlon likes to keep me on a short leash." The lion walked forward, closer to the Goddess of the Mind. "I believe you wanted to see the inside of my mind. Come right in."

As the lion invited Vulamera closer, the statues yanked upon his chains with expressions of bitter loss and the deepest hate. Serandor roared in fury and the room shook. As he expressed his wrath, a fresh wave of blood flowed from the eyes of the statues, wetting again the trail of dried crimson that flowed down their faces and bodies onto the floor.

The Goddess steped back slightly out of Serandor's reach. "First..." She spoke with hesitant curiousity, "...who are these statues?" Her fingers ran gently along the one nearest to her. "Such a vital part of Vakarlon's mind must represent something truly meaningful."

As Vulamera made contact with the statue, it turned to face her. The statue was of a young woman of medium build. On her face was a look of pure sorrow and oddly enough, pity.

The lion sighed. "They are the reason he despises me so. The statues are of his dead family from when he was mortal. They were slain by my worshippers, not I. Who knows the extent of depravity a Bringer of Wrath attracts among his followers. The followers of mine who did this were particularly sadistic. They skinned these three you see before you when the victims were alive . After I was devoured, Vakarlon used his new powers to hunt the ones responsible down and he cursed them for all eternity. They met gruesome fates in that life and have been suffering ever since.

Vulamera nodded sympathetically. "I see. How fitting! The reason Vakarlon will not allow Serandor greater freedom is because he remembers his past family, and so, in the mental plane, it is his family that is literally holding Serandor back. A perfect metaphor! The mind so often works symbolically like that.

The Shadow of Revelations shot Serandor a fierce stare. "You say that it was your worshipers who slew them, not yourself, yet I see no difference. You are fully responsible for the conduct of your worshipers, for it is you they aspire to emulate. If they commit violent deeds, it is because they follow a violent master. You should feel no guilt over the death of his family, of course- it is the duty of a God to both give and take away, especially when it comes to lives- I am simply stating that you cannot, and should not, attempt to scapegoat those who were only following your example."

She straightened her posture and approached the beast fearlessly, with dignity. "We will now see if you are as corrupt as I have heard." With that, her eyes closed, mist gathered up in heaps around her, and she lay her hand on the Lion's forehead.

All was dark, for a time, as the thoughts of the Goddess of Mind entered those of the Destruction Incarnate's. It was a painful, difficult process- she struggled to fully enter, and lashes of pain like a whip forced Vulamera to cry out in torment.

After what felt like a great deal of time, but may have been only a few heinous moments, a world begin to form about her. First came the ground, charred and black, as if a great fire had raged across it. Then the sky, as forboding and grey as iron. Finally, she saw the buildings, though they were little more than burnt rubble.

Vulamera strode through what seemed to have once been a large town. Almost medieval in design, most likely poor but not in poverty. The rubble strewn carelessly across the ground was mainly of wood, sometimes stone or iron, but never steel. An early civilization, killed in its infancy, before it could have ever grown into something great.

"Such is the nature of mindless destruction," Vulamera said thoughtfully, "that it would ruin a people before they even had the oppurtunity to gain knowledge, or to show promise. The power of destruction is great, and so it must be contained and tempered by the wise. It is no wonder that Fate decided to cage you within another, Serandor. You need to learn discipline."

Serandor manifested himself beside Vulamera. Instead of the lion form he had taken in Vakarlon's mind, he appeared as a tall man with black raven wings on his back. He was clothed in white flame with a red crown. At his side was a long black sword. He turned and gave Vulamera a look of mock hurt. "Come now, you cannot say I lack discipline. I have shown nothing but dedication to the task I was made for. You were born to to bring knowledge and I was born to bring ruin. You yourself said that a god must take away when it comes to lives. I am who I am, and that is the Final Vengeance. As for Fate caging me in another, it is the pinnacle of arrogance to assume we know the mind of the God of Gods. All I can do is be who Fate created me to be and wait for something new to transpire. All else is futile. "

Vulamera was not impressed.

"You wholly lack discipline. By your own logic," Her elderly voice creaked like a door, "I could tighten those chains which hold you back as much as I wish, and it would all be acceptable, as I could claim that I believe Fate made me to do it. This is a dangerous train of thought, Serandor- it justifies any action or reaction.

"It is one thing to do as you were created to, but it is completely another to do so with wreckless abandon. You must caution and control yourself. Notice, how I created the Insidie as perhaps the most truly sentient race currently alive, and yet I only made them intelligent to a certain degree. I could have made them with a mind to rival the Gods ourselves, I could have made them able to see truth as quickly as we can, and I could have made them to live millions of years so that they could spend the entirety of their lives gaining knowledge, but it would have been careless of me to do so, and most certainly would have had great reprecussions. Vestec, also, who I count as a friend despite my alliegiance to Order, controls his Chaos just enough so that it is always a looming threat, but never totally out of balance. Just as truly blessing the Insidie would be careless of me, it would be careless of him to allow his Chaos to flow into the world unopposed.

"Likewise, it is careless of you to destroy without far more extreme restraint. Bring to ruin only those things which must absolutely be brought to that state. It is not your purpose in life that you fail to understand, but rather, the greater scheme of reality which you must limit youself to fit into as only a single piece among many."

Serandor looked at Vulamera with a hint of curiosity. "What a fascinating way to look at things. How then would one determine what must be destroyed? Would such a judgement not potentially allow those in need of destruction to live? You and your colleagues have all shown such odd restraint. A Chaos God with discipline is no Chaos God at all."

"And a God who does not know how to use their powers well is simply not a God. Just a child with a God's powers. After what I have heard from you, and what I see in this mind, I'm half-tempted to strengthen those chains afterall, if Vakarlon would permit it. At least temporarily, until you learn the value of self-control."

Serandor looked at her with true pity in his eyes. "Oh, how truly little the goddess of knowledge truly knows. There must always be one despised above all else. There must always be a common foe to unite others. Otherwise, it all falls apart. Look at Galbar now. No true common enemy has risen and what has happened? They bicker and bite at one another's throats like animals. No, the only thing that can unite the gods into a functioning Pantheon is the threat of ultimate annihilation. That is my burden, daughter of the mind. It is my task to bear the hate of worlds and universes upon my shoulders so that the gods can work together. They are petty creatures, these Child Gods of yours, oh yes, I know your little name for them. Only unrestrained destruction and ruin will whip them into shape and get their attention." Serandor walked as he spoke, and Vulamera walked alongside him.

They came across a flower blooming in the ashes. It was a Snowbelle. Without a moment's hesitation, he plucked it from the ground and crushed it between his fingers. His hands, impossibly hot, turned the flower into ash. He scowled and spoke "Stay out of my mind, Chancellor of Chance. This place is my last privilege as a divine being. I know quite well that you have adopted this flower as your own."

"He was spying on you?" Vulamera spoke with a slight surprise, but her tone was tinted with another element as well: defensiveness. The mind was her domain.

Serandor nodded "He and I are in a state of total war. The only reason he can try to spy into my mind is because I am trapped in his."

Her face twisted into a frown. "This is... an abomination. The mind is my domain alone, and I would never use it to spy on the innermost thoughts of another. I am disappointed in you, Vakarlon." She projected her words outward, so that the God of Chance would hear.

With a brisk, soldier-like motion, she turned her focus back to Serandor. "I will make this offer only once: do you want me to keep him out of your thoughts?"

Serandor breathed a sigh of relief and gave a smile free of guile. "That would be wonderful."

"Very well. Vakarlon, I banish you!"

Her words were punctuated by a shivering in the air- it shook as if lightning had struck. Then lightning did strike. One massive bolt of violet energy hit the ashen earth with all the force of a hammer, burning a Mark of Vulamera directly into the spot which had previously held a Snowbelle.



Her Mark glew faintly in the presence of it's creator, casting a dangerous sanguine light onto the darkened landscape. So long as it stays bright, no other God nor Goddess will be able to enter the mind of Serandor- it is his alone.

Serandor smiled delightedly. This was perfect. Vakarlon was out of his mind and Serandor, being trapped in the Trickster's mind, could now make advances into Vakarlon's mind without fear of being pushed back. The young goddess had served him well. "I thank you for this kindness. Perhaps not all the gods are deserving of annihilation."

"Of course not, and I hope you learn that. I do not ask that you cease being a creature of Destruction, only that you learn where Destruction has a place and where it does not." Vulamera would not dare say it now, while vulnerable inside Serandor's mind, but she fully intended on limiting his ability to attack Vakarlon's as well. If she had her way, neither would be capable of harming one another- only staring angrily.

Normally, Vulamera would feel terrible for altering a deity's mind, but this case is unique. It is wrong for any God to invade the thoughts of another, as decreed by the Goddess of Thoughts, and so Vulamera felt that she had no choice but to prevent them from harming one another. She was not truly changing their minds, but protecting them from eachother.

"Now, we must make haste! Grant me the information to find Vakarlon's divine essence."

Quickly, the Lion of Torment poured a legion of memories into the Mind Goddess's grasp. Along with these memories came a burning sensation as if each memory were coated in acid. In each one of them, the Lion wandered the corridors of the maze until he found the Trickster and then they fought in vicious combat. Each time, the path was different. To any but the Mind Goddess, the pattern would have been impossible to notice. The pattern was there nonetheless, pointing the way to Vakarlon.

"Ahhh... I see it. Even the most conflicting mind has a key." Her hand went to her forehead as she spoke- she was clearly in suffering. Something, the Transcendent Mother thought to herself, almost frightened, something else was hiding in those memories.

"Goodbye now, Serandor. I will think on what you have said to me, but you must consider my words as well."

Another flash of magical energy collided with the ground, and Serandor's guest was gone.

---

Vulamera's voice echoed through the corridors that she now strode confidently along. "When I first entered your mind, friend Vakarlon- it seems ages ago now- I said that I may grant you a tighter hold on the beast within you. In retrospect, I have done just the opposite."

She paused in her path to Vakarlon's divine essence for a moment, expecting a reply from He of Change.

Yet she recieved none.

"Are you angry, my friend?" Still no reply. "I see."

She saw it.

The maze had stretched, now, into a straight, elongated hallway. It went on for miles, entirely plain marble bar the rare- but unmissible- statues. They stood like stone sentinels in Chance's mind, and each one gave Vulamera a cold, unforgiving stare as she passed them by. She dared not look them in their bloodied eyes, for fear that they just may make a move against her.

But there, at the end of this infinite hall, rested the Essence of Chance. The very thing that at the core of who Vakarlon was as a divine being.

In most deities, the "essence" of who they were was not stored in a single location, but rather, spread out throughout their mind, body, and soul. Vulamera had a hypothesis that the only cause for Vakarlon's to be so concentrated that it could be located in a single, clear place within his mind, was because of his inner-war with Serandor. The constant conflict between Chance and Destruction had forced his essence to cower like an animal, hiding from the lion that would surely destroy it.

The Goddess approached, softly as mouse.

As she approached, a figure stepped forth from the shadows. It was Vakarlon, he looked as he normally manifested except for several key details. All over him were the scars from the heated metal claws of Serandor. He wore a suit of silver colored armor emblazoned with the Snowbelle as a coat of arms. His eyes were pools of darkness and fire. All about him, the chill touch of winter left its mark. Upon seeing his fellow deity, Vakarlon nodded curtly to the the Goddess of the Mind. " Vulamera. " The Trickster was most displeased.

The Shadow nodded back, with a formidable amount of curtness. "Tell me, friend, how do you justify invading the mind of another, attempting to spy on their most sacred thoughts, and then calling yourself my ally? That is not only against my principles, but it disrespects who I am as a deity."

Vakarlon met Vulamera's disapproving gaze without an ounce of weakness. "Vulamera, my friend, I ask you, do not remember when you drove Zephyrion to anger? It was a rather similar situation. You could not ask permission, such was the extent of your peril and anything other than your course of action would have meant death. In these millions of years, I have been fighting tooth and nail for my life, my soul and the good of Galbar. I am truly sorry that I had to intrude on your domain but will you forgive me like the wise individual I know you to be? Or shall you emulate Zephyrion? "

"I am not angry with you, though what you did was wrong. I do not care how desperate the situation is- to spy on someone's innermost thoughts is sinful. Even when I intruded on Zephyrion's mind, I did not glance at his thoughts, nor was I tempted to.

"But it would be wrong of me to leave your side of this mind defenseless while Serandor is protected."

As she spoke, a small Mark of Vulamera carved itself into the floor at her feet, glowing just as brightly as that in Serandor's mind. And just as the one in Serandor's mind, it would defend Vakarlon from all invasion. Serandor would be helpless to attack, just as Vakarlon would. Neither could do harm. Perhaps, Vulamera hoped, this will force them to learn to cooperate- or, at least, not to try actively attempt mental murder.

"Glad that the fuss is over. Shall we get down to business? "


The two reached out and joined hands, their divine will following suit. In that moment, two Gods became, very briefly, one, and the perfect fusion begot a daughter who both knew would be destined for great things in that small world below.

---

Outside of Vakarlon, on Vulamera's cold and lonely moon, a spark begin. It started small- a black light in a world of nothing, but soon grew into a greedy, dark flame large enough to devour a man whole. It's power was unsustainable, it's thirst insatiable, and so when it found nothing to consume, it turned inward to consume itself.

No mortal words can describe the magnificent beauty of the flame twisting like a ribbon, then imploding like a dead star. In it's place now rained only ashes.

The ashes, they began crawling amongst one another. Slowly, the ashes gathered into one location. It seemed that something had begun to form on the ground, a humanoid being began to take shape, laying there on the ground. The ashes began to settle into place and then began to stir. Soon enough, the ash being was attempting to stand. It succeeded before a roar of pain came upon it, doubling over, wings violently erupted from its back. The foundation of the being had been completed.

Though, the ashes began to harden in place, color coming to them as they did so. First the legs, then the chest. It had only taken a fully minute for all the dust to harden, leaving a reptilian being standing where the dust once was.

As it took its first gasps for life, a wave of air appeared on the atmosphereless moon, encasing the creature so that it may breathe in that barren world.

"I- I live," the being stated. She was the demi-god that they had all formed, the one they believed would drive the forces of chaos back, a being that had been corrupted. What should have been someone pure of heart, eager to help the common mortal of Galbar, was a monster of darkness and pain. Yet, she did not even know here own name. She looked down at her hands and inspected them with curiosity.

"Who am I?"

She wondered who and what she as. Conflicted, as she felt both good and evil inside her, destruction and protection. She forced herself to look up, trying to find somebody in sight who could help her answer this question.

The answer came in the form of her mother's words, caring but strong.
"You are Demigod, child of divines, destined to rule over mortals by right of your blood, bound to punish them by your anger.
You are That of Pain, One of Malice, born from the conjoining of Mind and Chance, corrupted from the touch of Destruction.
You are The Enforcer, Keeper of Law, made to create Order, taught to ruin Chaos."

"Yet, I have no true name to refer to myself as. Nothing for mortals to truly hail to. Thus, I shall name myself Keriss."

The demi-god gave a wicked smile upon naming herself, a name that would make the forces of Chaos to route and for mortals to bow to. Though, the words. The words seemed to come from all around her, a voice that she seemed to be familiar with despite being born not to long ago. So, another question came to her. "And who are you?"

Keriss felt the need to become familiar with whatever this force was for it held an immense power compared to her. She held a strange hunger for knowledge, wanting to know about what she would be dealing with.

Mist gathered up at Keriss' feet, clinging to her scaly legs and working their way around her body. She felt as if something was probing her- examining everything about her, and learning the entirety of her existence in an instant.

A voice with no body echoed out from the fog. "I am Vulamera, the Goddess of Minds, the Shadow of Revalations, the Transcendent Mother, and- perhaps most importantly- your mother. You feel a need for knowledge, yes? Do not forget that drive to learn, for it is me, and if you lose it, you lose your bond to me as well."

Vakarlon stepped forward and explained who he was to his newly born daughter, teaching to her how she came to be and the purpose in life that had been planned for her. The moon orbited Galbar many times while the mother and father instructed the One of Malice on her role.

"My daughter," Vulamera said at last, "you are destructive, but this world you are soon to enter is yet moreso. Even a Demigod can fall to the terrors of Galbar, the earth of Gods. It is a harsh reality, and so you must be harsher. For every greedy snake that bites at your heels, you must be as vicious as one hundred more. To my last child, your half-brother Lifprasil, I gave words of self-control and balance, but you must walk a much darker path. And so I grant you this gift, to ever keep your mind sharp and your claws ready."

The mists of the Goddess rattled, flashed a fleshy colour, and condensced into the solid shape of the old, wrinkled scholar which had found itself becoming Vulamera's preferred apparition.

"Not the exact form that I thought you would take, but it will have to do I suppose. No offense, mother." Keriss stated, crossing her arms and looking at the old woman that had appeared in front of her.

The old woman gave a forced imitation of a laugh. "And what form would you prefer?" The rotted body of Vulamera suddenly lurched and spasmed in the process of becoming another shape entirely. Six perfect white wings sprouted from her back, each flawlessly etched like paper with holy knowledge that a creature like Serandor could never comprehend. She stood up straighter, more confidently than before and showed that she had grown above twelve feet tall. A sword made from blue flames grew in place of the quill, while her eyes split themselves into six narrow slits of a matching colour.

Encasing those piercing eyes was an exoskeletal, triangular face without features, without a mouth and without any more detail than a blank mask. Her thin body, also, had lost all signs of age or mortality. It was as distorted, hard and shady-grey as heated iron. She wore no clothes, because her skin already resembled a twisted and melted suit of armour.

All around her, translucent orange triangles would appear at odd angles just briefly, then vanish. They incased magical runes that matched the symbols adorning her wings.

"Does this better fit what you expected?" Vulamera's voice was a chorus of furious insects.

"That is a whole lot better looking. I must admit, love what you've done with your face. A whole lot more... Intellectual-like," Keriss gave a slight chuckle, not moving from her spot as she watched her mother transform.

"Now!" Keriss's creator raised her shining claws up above. "No more prattling about appearance! I still have a gift for you!" Her knivish hands slammed down into the soft, vulnerable meat of Vigilate, forcing a hungry patch of thorns to rise from its earth.

The vines grew in an instant to strangle around one another, all the while transfiguring into an impassable briar bush.

"Look, now, Keriss. I grant you thorns, because of all the bounty of nature, these are the most like you."

Hearing a Goddess's silent command, the briar was uprooted by invisible hands, then brutishly weaved together into a Crown of Thorns, each coated in dry blood.

Keriss watched her mother make the crown, dropping to a single knee to bow to Vulamera. Her gaze rested on her mother. Silently, she waited seemingly knowing what to do in this situation.

The Transcendent Mother, without any display of emotion, ceremonially lowered the Crown of Thorns onto her newly begotten daughter's head.

A shine of violet light emanated from it, if only briefly, marking it as having been blessed by the will of Vulamera.

"I desire you to use your own powers as much as possible, but if you cannot control your many gifts on your own, use this. I name it the Crown of Pain, for it will channel my mental power directly to you, enabling control of the very minds of your enemies.

"If any mortal or God is foolish enough to attack the Warrior of Mind, Destruction, and Chance, it will paralyze them, strike them with brain-death, or even force them to obey your will as though you were truly divine. Once more: excersize your own abilities when possible, but do not hesitate to rely on mine if you fear. Keep it with you as a safeguard, for moments where you may not succeed. My power is its power."

"As you say mother. I shall keep it with me at all times. No one shall dare tempt me to use its powers," Keriss said, raising to her feet, continuing to look up at her mother. However, I do not know the full extent of my powers. I suppose I will have to find this answer myself."

"Indeed you will. Are you ready, now, to finally see Galbar? It is there you must begin your campaign of Law..."

"Yes. I shall not stop my campaign until all chaos are dead," Keriss gave a wicked smile, eagerly awaiting to kill the foes that her mother had directed her to.

With a flash of violet, a lightening bolt struck VENOMWOOD, delivering with it the one who will soon become the Terror of Law.