Cyclone

Re:Divinus VII

There once was a city ruled by a tyrant. This man was not especially cruel for his era; his measures were harsh, but necessary. Under his rule the thieves were hanged, the beggars were lashed across the back and driven away, deserting soldiers and disloyal nobles were beheaded, the greedy merchants were cast out into exile (their possessions were naturally forfeit, seized by the tyrant to fund his army), adulterous wives had their ears severed, the wicked and impious were burnt at the stake in gruesome displays, and the grisliest punishments of all befell the runaway or rebellious slaves. All of these punishments were carried out by the tyrant’s men in a public square for all to see, before a great monument hewn from gray granite. This ostentatious monument had been raised by some long-gone lord that few remembered, and whatever its original purpose, by virtue of its place in that square the people came to connote it with their tyrant’s justice.

The monolithic structure was then something of a shrine to the civic rule of law, to punishment, to order, to the structure and hierarchy that had restored the failing city from the brink of ruin at the hands of its many rivals. Life was good for the average man of the city in those days, even if they lived through almost perpetual war! Indeed, by having driven out the filth and created discipline, the tyrant had single-handedly staved off a long decline and cultural decay, his soldiers even making some gains and reclaiming long-lost lands from neighboring city-states. But he was only a man, and so the tyrant passed as all mortals do, and the city was not long to outlast him. A soft man succeeded that tyrant as lord of the city, and his reign ended a decade later when another lord’s soldiers broke down the gates. The streets were choked with blood, the men massacred while the women and children were dragged off in chains, the temples and the tyrant’s palace ransacked, the houses set aflame, the tomb of their hated enemy the late tyrant was leveled and his many statues cast down, and finally, a once-great monument to justice was defaced.

The collective consciousness of the people – their unwitting reverence and mild idolatry – had made the monument into something more than mere stone. Though they did not know it, they had given the thing an essence and life; however, when nought remained but bones and ruin, the spirit that had been born within the monument eventually moved on. It might have exacted retribution in the ways that it knew against those who had destroyed its first home, but it possessed no such power; it was condemned to be a silent witness to the world, not a shaper of it.

The spirit was immortal, but it knew only justice and law and punishment and order, so it meandered across the land and observed the executioners with an interminable, puerile fascination. Nothing else held its interest, and in truth it was barely even sentient. Eventually the world itself came to die, that first city having been just a microcosm of a greater decay. Still, the spirit persisted. Weary and sad, it drifted away. It slept and was lost to time, until eventually, something roused it.

It sensed somewhere new, just barely flourishing: yonder there was an infant world, not a fading one like it had once known. Justice could be observed once more! It raced forward, rocketing through the cosmos; it must have been asleep for countless aeons, for it tore through the void with power and swiftness that it had never known before, and it realized then that it was an infant no longer.

During its approach, it realized that it no longer had a shell to dwell within like that granite monument. It had accreted… something of a body, but that form did not please it. So its will seized the void and rent order and substance out of chaos and nothingness, and so a great mass of metal congealed in a familiar dull gray hue. The spirit’s unbreaking will wrought the gigantic asteroid into an impossibly dense, divinely-imbued suit of armor. No eyes or senses, be they divine or mortal, would be able to penetrate through the plates or visor and see what dwelled beneath; he had privacy again. Likewise, the armor could defy magic and steel with ease; this would not become some cairn heap of stone pieces. The spirit reckoned that by virtue of this, it could be both invisible and safe during its observations. Now, it – no, he – was ready.

---

When he finally drew near to the nascent world, its atmosphere clawed at him. It couldn’t do the faintest bit of harm through his armor, but the sense of it pushing and dragging his mass during the fall was a novel experience. It was a strange feeling, to feel. The friction quickly grew great enough for a majestic cloak of fire to wreathe him for his descent. Fond memories returned: great heaps of wood, majestic blazes, screaming witches and warlocks.

Ecstasy filled his being when the spirit realized that now, he could bring about justice himself! Perhaps he needn’t merely observe passively from afar! But then he was filled with an inscrutable turmoil that coursed through his every fiber of being – was it justice if he did it? Was it legal? He contemplated that for the rest of the way down, and even once he landed gently.

Absent-mindedly, he looked around to see the depression in the sand that he’d disturbed, and also the listless motes of dust thrown up by his arrival. It was certainly not his prerogative to go about defacing the landscape another had wrought. But perhaps it was his right, or perhaps even his duty, to bring justice to this world? As he delicately put the coarse earth back into place, he reflected upon his qualifications for the role. He had spent thousands of years bearing witness to justice at the ends of justice, and then for an eternity thereafter he had meditated upon all that he had seen in empty darkness and in silence. That settled it – he realized that none were likely to ever be so learned or worthy to carry out Justice as he!

He paced for a moment, weighing these revelations. There was suddenly a great pride that lifted his heels, a heavy burden upon his shoulders, an eagerness swelling up somewhere beneath his breastplate. As if to denote the great significance of that moment, the ground itself trembled from some distant perturbation.

He Stood

An armored giant, a spirit, a god, a vessel of justice!

Then with the lifeless wastes as his witness, the god made a solemn vow:

"I will be True, and hold all else to the same precept."

Tiny flakes of dirt and regolith drifted through the air, cast up by his landing. The motes of dust were silent, and they seemed to meet his words with equal resolve. He looked around, restless.

To be true to himself, he could never rest, would never tire, until all things were exactly as they should be, guided by the tenets and laws of those whose will shaped the world; but not by his, certainly. He did not presume to determine what was lawful or orderly, though he knew that he would be able to innately sense anything that rebelled against its lot. By that feeling if nothing else, he would find the faults in the universe and right them.

He felt it right then, even in that earliest of days. The towering metal giant spun around suddenly and fell onto his knees, brushing the ground with his hands to fill in the tiny depression left by his landing and ever so carefully restore it to exactly what it had been a few moments before. His passion compelled him!

Of course, his work was undone soon thereafter when huge clouds of dust and toxic metals, hurled from beyond the horizon, came to rain down on him. His first instinct was fury – he considered hunting down the perpetrator of this calamitous destruction, the one who had undone his very careful restoration of the ground over the last few moments and punishing the criminal severely. He stormed forward as a colossus with massive strides, effortlessly fighting against the flying clouds and rivers of earth, the metal of his armor groaning as it warped to match his growing size. Yet then he peered through the sandstorm, his divine gaze reaching out the horizon, and he beheld the perpetrator and sighed in disappointment.

Yonder there was no criminal, just some spirit like him – no, nothing like him. She had no armor like his to hide her spirit, so he could perceive her easily enough, and he recognized her as a goddess of earth. Such a dreadful, useless aspect, he found himself suddenly thinking, but then he fondly recalled memories of gray granite, and judged her much more fondly for it. In moving that earth, careless and bothersome as it might have been, she had been fulfilling her role and prerogative. She’d therefore committed no great crime that he could discern, and so he could take no action… alas! He deflated and shrank a bit, then began to wander the world. He sought out an opportunity to witness justice, or better yet, deliver it himself – the time would surely come soon, and he’d waited so long.

Summary

Turns out that the chud might canonically be Squidward, because he used to live inside of a monument.

He spent a whopping 5MP to make some pretty mighty armor. It’s made of gray metal and is very tough. For some reason he seems to think that it makes him invisible, but he’s stupid and it definitely doesn’t – maybe it just masks whatever his aspect is to others.

After the events that took place in the myth on his CS (which coincided with when Lektoria was resculpting the planet) it began to hilariously rain toxic dirt and metal all over his parade, and he was both really mad and really excited about having an excuse to beat the crap out of somebody in the name of JUSTICE! But he realized that it was just the earth goddess, and couldn’t justify attacking an earth goddess for throwing some dirt all over the place.

MP Usage

5MP out of the initial 5MP spent on Justice’s Armor – count this towards a Smithing aspect maybe.
All 5 initial AP remain.

Re:Divinus VII

The Divine Enforcer

<sub>A great ironclad star descended from the heavens, the sky heralding its arrival with fire; Justice had manifested before the hearths and kilns burned, before the foundations of the world had been laid and before the chaos of life had erupted upon Galbar.

The star, the god, the machine, the force of nature landed not with some catastrophic impact but gingerly, with only a soft thud and a limber grace that seemed to defy its intimidating bulk. He cast off the cloak of flame that the sky had bequeathed upon him, for he cared not for the fine or the bright or ostentatious. One, two, three heavy footsteps carried him forward across the barren rocky plain, and then with the lifeless wastes as his witness, the god made a solemn vow:</sub>

"I will be True, and hold all else to the same precept."

<sub>Tiny flakes of dirt and regolith drifted through the air, cast up by his landing. The motes of dust were silent, and they seemed to meet his words with equal resolve. He looked around, restless.

To be true to himself, he could never rest, would never tire, until all things were exactly as they should be, guided by the tenets and laws of those whose will shaped the world; but not by his, certainly. He did not presume to determine what was lawful or orderly, though he knew that he would be able to innately sense anything that rebelled against its lot. By that feeling if nothing else, he would find the faults in the universe and right them.

He felt it right then, even in that earliest of days. The towering metal giant spun around suddenly and fell onto his knees, brushing the ground with his hands to fill in the tiny depression left by his landing and ever so carefully restore it to exactly what it had been a few moments before. His passion compelled him!</sub>

---

Names are unimportant. This god never bothered to take one, so style him Justice, or perhaps the Divine Enforcer.

And pray that you do not cross him; his body and will alike are daunting. He seems to tower over all that he comes across, larger than everything except the smallest of laws and rules. None have ever looked upon his visage (if even he has one), for in the emptiness of the void he wrought his force of will into a near-impervious suit of unadorned plate armor that covers him utterly. He is large but generally humanoid in shape, and his armor is a bleak gray that neithers shines nor get sullied by dirt and rust – it simply is how it is. Even by divine standards his strength and endurance are prodigious – he seemingly never tires, slows, hesitates, or stops, and his personality is just as relentless, forthright, and stubborn as his body.

From the first moment that he landed upon Galbar he has sworn to uphold his aspect. He respects all oaths, laws, and rules and expects the same of others. False or broken oaths, treachery, and hypocrisy (only in the sense of thinking one’s self above the rules that one has declared for others) are the most blatant of injustices and wrongs to him, and they incense him greatly. If it were possible he would personally stop any and all such instances and uphold every legitimate rule and regulation set forth by mortals and immortals alike, but alas, he is neither omniscient nor omnipotent and must submit to the realities of utilitarianism and of his limited reach. In his relentless pursuit to uphold order and authority, he is not concerned at all with the actual morality or fairness of the laws that exist – Justice does not judge or make the rules, for justice is simply the enforcement of those that exist.

Fortunately, his aspect endows him with the ability to delegate this sacred charge of his unto others. He can easily instill a fraction of his own fervor, ethos, and indefatigable will into others, and this greatly helps him in the organization of sacred orders and the elevation of heroes to uphold the law and spread his ideals of justice throughout the world. His aspect also makes him especially perceptive in his ability to discern lies from truth, and he can sometimes sense when any force or object is rebelling against the law or its lot.

The Court of the Gods

And a sheet for Zeus Prime, the clone!

The Clone, Zeus Prime

Name:

Before the late Zeus’ death, this youth was known as the Heir. He loathed this, and yet the late Zeus would neither suffer his clone to bear any lesser name, nor allow him to take the mantle of his own divine name prematurely.

But now the time has come, and with his ascension to power he is the Heir no more. He will not suffer to be called that, and neither does he look kindly upon names like Zeus II, or the ‘new’ Zeus, or Zeus ‘Prime’ – certainly not ‘the Clone’. He is simply Zeus, just like his originator, and to label him anything else is an insult. So call him Zeus, or King, or a properly reverent epithet, lest you hazard his ire.

His appearance is that of an athletic and handsome youth, with the pale skin of nobility, curling black locks of hair, and a short beard -- the spitting image of the late Zeus, complete with an identical wardrobe of white togas and robes adorned with cloth of gold. He's tall but lithe rather than bulky, and wears a smile well. Unfortunately, most grow to fear that smile.

Titles and Roles:

Just like the original Zeus, this one is the Highest, the King of the Gods, Lord of the Sky, Rainmaker, the Thunder-Bearer, Father of Gods and Men. The conflict lies within that final role: he insists that the High Pantheon look to him as a father, or at least a brother – whatever the original Zeus was to them. He is not that Zeus’ son, and he is not merely that Zeus’ replacement, he is an upgrade. He demands that all address him just as much respect and reverence as the original Zeus, if not more. Following that perspective, it’s only natural that Hera is his wife just as she was to the original.

Artifacts and Powers:

This Zeus inherited and now possesses the same artifacts and powers as the original; however, having only just come to own the devices, he is not nearly so skilled in their usage. He does at least know their purposes and have some limited experience operating the technologies, courtesy of the original finding time to teach his Heir about such things on occasion.

Persona:

Just like the original, this Zeus is vain, prideful, and arrogant – perhaps to an even greater extent, too. The insufferable part is that while the original Zeus certainly had a way of leading and by the end had centuries of experience governing to draw upon and command respect from, this young clone has none of that. He still thinks himself a worthy and ready successor though, an idea that the elder members of the High Pantheon likely find laughable.

Yet, one laughs at and underestimates him at their own peril. He certainly is not the genius that he thinks himself to be, but he possesses more guile than meets the eye. In particular he’s perceptive about people, and can sense weakness and insecurity like a vulture can smell carrion. He is not nearly so lecherous as his predecessor, but he’s depraved in another way: few things excite him more than the prospect of putting others into their place. Given an opportunity and just the slightest of reasons, he’s wont to ruthlessly bully and humiliate others. He’s at least inventive in his cruelty and thinks violence to be both boring and base; he’s found that dismantling someone’s psyche is perhaps more challenging but also more devastating, and certainly more entertaining to do. For that reason he enjoys gossip when it pertains to others’ misfortunes, fears, regrets, and the like.

The late Zeus at least insisted that a King who is despised is one bound to have a short reign, so he keeps his inner beast restrained… most of the time.

Background and Relationships:

Zeus is practically an infant by the standards of the High Pantheon, dragged out of the cloning vats just nineteen years ago. Modifications accelerated his development such that he was nearly fully grown, physically and mentally, within just a few years. Those first few years were harsh and not at all nurturing. Experiments were performed and he was expected to prove himself, but ultimately that he did – for the most part. Using a novel process, the late Zeus had long attempted to selectively graft his own memories onto the blank slate of a clone’s mind. The result was often madness or insanity on the clone’s part. Besides the clone that would become the Heir, all the others died or were terminated for instability or other flaws – all except for the early prototype of the technology that was Athena, of course. As a proof of concept she had been imprinted with some innate affinities and general knowledge, but nothing specific to Zeus’ personal memories.

The memory-grafting process likely contributed to, if not caused, the slow decline of the late Zeus’ own cognitive abilities. It took a heavy toll on Zeus, but in the Heir the process finally bore fruit; a great deal of the originator’s memories, though hazy, exist in the clone’s mind. Of course, he has a different temperament, explainable by his own unique experiences and the incomplete set of memories that he was given – the late Zeus tried very hard to ensure that no traces of Logan Fletcher had been instilled into the clone.

In any case, despite this nominal success it always was as though the originator was never quite pleased with the clone. Granted, the original Zeus had little love for anyone. He did at least show some affection to his heir from time to time; he offered a hug or a word of praise to his clone every few weeks or so – far more than most received – for the boy’s resemblance to him was naturally uncanny, and his eagerness and the ease at which he could learn were both impressive. Still, the clone did not receive anywhere near as much affection or kindness as a child should have, and he never could shake off the feeling that some part of him was a disappointment. Perhaps that’s why he sometimes lashes out and has a superiority complex.

There was one member of the High Pantheon that genuinely cared for him and looked out for him: Athena. She saw a part of herself in him, and he in her. Her kindness soothed the dull pain and the empty pit of the originator’s seeming indifference, and she probably kept him from going mad. For that reason he looks up to her as a big sister; she’s the only one that he will ever open himself up to or express any vulnerability towards. He keeps his secrets, and she doubtless hers, but they do genuinely enjoy one another’s company and she can speak freely without ever hazarding his wrath.

As for the others, he was oft seen but rarely interacted with, a silent shadow to his much more important originator. The High Pantheon all expected the original Zeus to live for much longer, and the last fifteen years or so were practically just the blink of an eye. Many like Hades have yet to ever even see him in person, and of the denizens of Olympus who have encountered him, few had paid him much heed. The result is that he now loathes the feeling of being ignored, and if heads do not turn when he enters a room or voices do not instantly quiet when he speaks, his mood is immediately fouled.

The Court of the Gods

@Zyx

That works. I noticed the look you'd left but was just offering to have something more happen so that the impetus for interaction with the others isn't solely on you.

I'd imagine that he's not at all in the loop about the death of Zeus, so you might have an interesting plot thread with him coming to somehow discover that through reconnaissance or maybe somehow monitoring and spying on the gods' communication channels. He could presumably be monitoring all major communications from his hideout under the hopes that he gets some sort of signal from beyond their current system.

That's actually another interesting goal to consider working towards -- maybe he wants to either build signal infrastructure and a power source to run it, or otherwise capture or hack that infrastructure in Olympus so that he could get a message out to report what's been going on. It seems like he's thought of the possibility too; I took note of the line at the top where he says, "Command better be giving me one hell of a promotion when communication is finally re-established..."

Anyhow, those are just ideas! I'm fond of Isaac and you can consider the sheet accepted.

The Court of the Gods

I just want to praise all of you and say that I've been immensely pleased with all the character sheets so far. Good work everyone!

For my own part, I think that I've mostly finished a CS for the late Zeus. It's notably missing his relationships with the others as individuals, particularly after they became gods, but by posting this to show some of his personality and backstory I think it'll help inform various ideas for how they might have felt about him. I'll happily discuss that part and add in more details about his relationships later.

Zeus Prime, what I've taken to calling the clone that rules as of the start of this RP, will have some key differences but a lot of things like his artifacts will be the same or similar. Still, I'm going to be working on a sheet for him next, then I intend to make the official OOC thread so we can move out of this interest check. The new OOC thread will definitely contain more details about the planet Hellas (where this takes place) and perhaps some other things that I think are important. If there's any lore of background information that you think I should put in the OP for when I do that, then let me know.

The Late Zeus

Name(s):

In another lifetime, there was a man named Logan Fletcher – Captain Fletcher. That name died long ago, however; its mention has been scrubbed from every databank, and lives on only within the memories of a few of the eldest gods who have survived the centuries and their closest confidants.

For the past four hundred years, there has been only Zeus.

Titles and Roles:

Zeus is known by many titles: the Highest, the King of the Gods, Lord of the Sky, Rainmaker, the Thunder-Bearer, Father of Gods and Men.

His temples are too many to count. The mountains and high places of Hellas have many shrines to honor him, but every city or town of importance has a temple to him too. The greatest of his temples and holy places have long had microphones and cameras installed within, so the prayers of mortals are indeed heard and monitored by Zeus and his staff within Olympus – occasionally they’ve even been answered. His voice has been known to the priests to occasionally echo out from within the great statues sculpted in his likeness, carrying with it the word of the King of Gods and the pantheon itself. When they hear his thunderous voice, they quickly carry his commands to the local tyrant or council. The will of Zeus is then respected lest they peril storms coming to wash away their whole city.

Artifacts and Powers:

At nearly all times, Zeus carried a great white-gold scepter styled so as to look like a lightning bolt. Its length is telescoping and can be compressed into a baton small enough to fit into a pocket, but more often than not he kept it fully extended and bore it prominently – that was the symbol of his power, not some crown. This scepter is linked to the great satellite arrays in orbit of Hellas, and can control the weather manipulation devices in real time. It also has the ability to project a holographic, scaling model of the planet with all its weather, structures, and even people as viewed in realtime from the heavens.

Zeus wore a great deal of devices cleverly disguised as ornate jewelry. Several rings of his conceal highly advanced batteries and capacitors. The stored energy is used to power his scepter as well as various anti-gravity devices contained within armbands and a few other devices normally hidden beneath his toga; these anti-gravitation engines allow him to hover or fly. But the capacitance rings that he wears can also discharge electricity into tesla coils disguised as the gemstones, which enabled Zeus to shoot arcs of electricity from his hands. Various shields and failsafes prevented him from ever shocking himself or uncontrollably discharging this power, and supposedly this jewelry also would protect against a variety of weapons and make him quite difficult to assassinate. Obviously, his killers found some sort of workaround.

Zeus also possessed the Administrative Function Remote for IRIS, which allowed him to keep tabs on most of the pantheon. He was sure to keep that device very carefully hidden and rarely even spoke of its existence, lest it ever be stolen or lost. Still, the mere knowledge that he had seized it was enough to keep Hermes in line and prevent him from doing too much damage were he to go rogue.

The final artifact that Zeus carried about his person was the Key to Olympus. Rather than anything so mundane and crude as a physical key, this was his ID and access card from the ship and original mission… though the insufferable bit of plastic with the picture of his past self and that name ‘Logan Fletcher’ were of course stripped off the card, with its magnetic and electrical components put into a golden brooch. His Key granted him administrative control and unfettered access to all the technology, doors, and systems aboard the old vessel, and it does much the same in the city of Mount Olympus, for much of its technology was taken straight out of the now-dismantled vessel. In any case, Olympus’ life support and climate control panels, great treasury vaults of ancient technology and unused equipment, databanks from Old Arith, and even a menagerie of bioengineered horrors (created mostly through the efforts of Athena and Artemis) are all accessible to the Key’s holder. Some specially and more recently designed systems might not be programmed to allow him to override their protections and gain access with his Key, though Zeus discovering such a system designed to shut him out would not please him. Such systems would likely have had to have been kept secret from Zeus.

Persona:

Zeus had always been prideful and haughty. Captain Fletcher had been a narcissist that thought himself better than others, maintaining a stern and ever-professional distance and rarely socializing with his crew. This isolation was not a conscious decision on his part – just the natural consequence of his intimidating status and persona. He expected friendships to simply come to him, but never extended the first kind gesture or word himself. He was also petty, with a long memory for any slights (real or imagined) and an adamant refusal to ever be the first to extend an olive branch and apologize or make amends. He would be sure to let you know if ever he was disappointed in your work, however; he sometimes did as much in public, and people usually withered under his gaze when he dissected all of their supposed failings and told them what to do next time.

Beyond an abrasive personality, Logan Fletcher was a diligent but otherwise very unremarkable man. In the space stations of the Fleet Academy orbiting Old Arith, he applied himself fully and utterly to his studies in the hopes that he could have his own command over one of the many military vessels that patrolled the system and kept order. He graduated with high marks and was commissioned as a minor officer. In time he likely would have quickly risen through the ranks and had his own ship, but he ultimately had a short career in the military. He would tell you that he left in disgust after realizing the rigidity of their structure and thinking, and after growing tired of licking the boots of incompetent and foolish superior officers. There’s surely some truth to that, but rumors always followed him; in his youth, he was salacious and abused his status as an officer on a few occasions.

In any case, as a former captain-lieutenant for a military force and one with an impressive academic history, it was easy enough for him to find work on civilian vessels. He quietly commanded freight shuttles for several years without incident before eventually growing restless and hungry for more. When the opportunity came to command the rescue mission to investigate and possibly save a distant colony, he jumped at the chance. His pride and ego made the prospect of being their savior and immortalizing his name very appealing, but as the lonely years whiled by in transit to that distant system, his thoughts began to stray, and he started to wonder if he couldn’t do more than merely save those fools… to wonder if he didn’t deserve more.

Once he took the mantle of Zeus, his former nature became only more exaggerated. He made a conscious effort to maintain an aura of command lest the others think themselves too familiar or contemplate defiance. That said, he recognized the advantage of kindness too. So while his grasp on Hellas and Olympus was tight, he was also sure to be ever respectful and magnanimous to those that demonstrate their loyalty, and especially cruel and terrible to those that rebelled against him. The carrot and the stick, working in concert, kept him in power for a very long time.

His old perversions and lustful nature also returned. With his status as King of the Gods and access to the whole of Hellas, trysts became tenfold more effortless, frequent, and flagrant than when he was sneaking around a mere captain-lieutenant aboard a military vessel. For all his dalliances with the mortals and demigods and even former crewmembers, he never did fall in love with anyone, not even his ‘wife’ Hera. He doubtless thought himself too far above them all.

Background and Relationships:

It was Zeus alone who concocted and orchestrated the plan to recreate the legends of old with himself as ruler of a pantheon. The idea genuinely appealed to some of the crew, and for others, his force of personality and intimidating status as captain made it easy enough to coerce them into going along. Only a very brave few stood up to him, with the Isaac – the Head of Security – as the most notable and unfortunate of these dissenters, but it wasn’t enough; Zeus ultimately engineered the Coming of the Gods and the subjugation of the primitive ‘mortals’ trapped on their failed colony, with all the brutality that the plan involved. Those that opposed him, be they his own crewmen or defiant mortals, were slain or imprisoned, their names either forgotten altogether or forever vilified and associated with chaos and evil. For his violent and destructive departure and relentless attempts to create warform armies and overthrow the gods, Isaac inp particular has been demonized to the mortal denizens: they now know him as Typhon.

Yet just as history and reality were rewritten in accordance to his will, the very land itself was renamed. The planet he called Hellas, for his fascination with an archaic nation called Greece that existed on Old Arith long ago. The seas, the mountains, and the plains were similarly designated by classical names that he’d pulled from ancient maps and atlases. At his direction the primitive men and women who dwelled on the planet below were arbitrarily split into many tribes and nations and scattered across the planet.

He ordered the construction of Mount Olympus and his great palace within, and he has ruled from it ever since. Through guile and lightning and fear, he maintained an iron grip over both gods and mortals alike for more than four hundred years, suppressing too many heresies and rebellions to count, and performing a careful dance of trying to juggle staving off the decline of the gods with impeding the rise of the mortals, all while managing his own people so as to not fall prey to intrigue.

While overseeing the rest of the pantheon in their workings (to varying degrees – he left most with a good deal of autonomy, realizing the value of properly delegating the administration and upkeep needed) he’s also maintained direct control over some reactivated and repurposed terraforming equipment. Notably, during the coming of the Gods he saw to the deployment of vast constellations of satellites that employ advanced technology to control, stabilize, and manipulate the planet’s previously tempestuous and unpredictable weather. He has diligently managed the weather controls and their maintenance operations as part of the purview of his divine name and role. He had no prior experience in terraforming, meteorology, or climatology of any kind, but his fascination with the Zeus of the original mythos and his desire to perfectly and believably slip into that role gave him the desire to micromanage this one particular thing, as well as the motivation to learn how to do it well. In the centuries that followed, he came to master his understanding of Hellas’ weather and his unique system like no other could, or likely ever will. Not even his cloned successor understands the intricacies nearly as well as him – an unfortunate reality that will doubtless come to the detriment of the mortals.

His hand was in all things, and he loomed larger than life and larger than the gods, until his sudden demise changed everything.

@Zyx I quite like Isaac! I understand why you're excluding the divine names etc. Still, I mentioned in my sheet that Zeus has declared that Isaac is to be known as Typhon to the mortals -- it seems fitting since Typhon was one of Zeus' challengers and enemies, and also 'the father of monsters'.

Some concern has been raised about whether you'll be a bit isolated and shunted out of the action near the beginning of the IC. I think I have a solution, though: the late Zeus, though he surely would have hated Isaac for his defiance and refusal to join the conspiracy, may have been nonetheless pragmatic enough to not try too hard to find and destroy his hideout. With Isaac around as a bogeyman there's a common enemy so that the others in the pantheon have something to fear and a reason for unity, and because Isaac only is able to attack every so often and he rebuilds his forces at fairly predictable intervals it's not too unreasonable to let him do his thing for a few centuries. Zeus Prime, on the other hand, might not see the value in such a unifying enemy and so could immediately order a renewed effort to locate Isaac with the goal of killing him or throwing him into Tartarus. Thoughts on that?

The Court of the Gods

@MagratheanWhale

Great to hear! If upon a second look you find yourself intrigued, it'd be great to have you come talk to us on the Discord.

As an aside, to everyone else interested: I was hoping to get a real OOC up today along with character sheets for Zeus I and the clone Zeus as examples, but things came up and time escaped me. For now, here's just the CS template:

Character Sheet

Name(s):

((Does this individual have a birth name or alternate identity distinct from their divine name? In what contexts, if ever, is it used?))

Titles and Roles:

((What responsibilities has this god taken on to earn a place in the High Pantheon? Do they govern or control some particular area, or handle some part of the capital’s maintenance?))

Artifacts and Powers:

((Tied in with the above, what sorts of equipment do they own and/or use, and how might a mortal worshiper describe the god’s supposed powers?))

Persona:

((How does the character act, both when among gods and when among mortals?))

Background and Relationships:

((Was this a crewmember of the ship that first declared themselves gods, and if so, what was their position there? If not, how did they come to be elevated to the High Pantheon? What was their relationship with the late Zeus like, and do they have any family or unique relationships with other gods of importance?))

The Court of the Gods

@Zyx

The premise works -- there's a plausible motive as well as an MO (that of creating multiple backups; perhaps your rogue/fallen 'god' for lack of a better term has been fought and destroyed by the pantheon one or several times before and is therefore presumed dead, giving them the advantage of surprise if they entered into a new form and then just hibernated and/or made preparations for centuries whilst waiting for an opportune time to try again).

Interestingly MarshalSolgrieve has the idea for a janitor on the crew to have become deified as Hades, with the humans having some sort of burial ritual that results in the corpses actually being taken down pipes or tubes to a physical underworld where they can be processed, for "sanitation purposes". So this state of things might be at least in part to deprive your character from being able to quickly and quietly amass an army of the dead if they return again, and similarly, the other gods might view uploading and/or backing up their minds as taboo due to its association with your character.

So yeah, the existence of that underworld is a nice coincidental thing that keeps the threat level of your character from being too great. There would naturally be some corpses available since not everyone or thing would receive the proper burial for various reasons, but it means there aren't graveyards with tens of thousands of corpses waiting to be converted into soldiers. Perhaps you should discuss some things with solgrieve because I see the potential for some significant overlap there. As an aside, I've been wondering why you use the > markers to greentext.

Re:Divinus VII

The Divine Enforcer

<sub>A great ironclad star descended from the heavens, the sky heralding its arrival with fire; Justice had manifested before the hearths and kilns burned, before the foundations of the world had been laid and before the chaos of life had erupted upon Galbar.

The star, the god, the machine, the force of nature landed not with some catastrophic impact but gingerly, with only a soft thud and a limber grace that seemed to defy its intimidating bulk. He cast off the cloak of flame that the sky had bequeathed upon him, for he cared not for the fine or the bright or ostentatious. One, two, three heavy footsteps carried him forward across the barren rocky plain, and then with the lifeless wastes as his witness, the god made a solemn vow:</sub>

"I will be True, and hold all else to the same precept."

<sub>Tiny flakes of dirt and regolith drifted through the air, cast up by his landing. The motes of dust were silent, and they seemed to meet his words with equal resolve. He looked around, restless.

To be true to himself, he could never rest, would never tire, until all things were exactly as they should be, guided by the tenets and laws of those whose will shaped the world; but not by his, certainly. He did not presume to determine what was lawful or orderly, though he knew that he would be able to innately sense anything that rebelled against its lot. By that feeling if nothing else, he would find the faults in the universe and right them.

He felt it right then, even in that earliest of days. The towering metal giant spun around suddenly and fell onto his knees, brushing the ground with his hands to fill in the tiny depression left by his landing and ever so carefully restore it to exactly what it had been a few moments before. His passion compelled him!</sub>

---

Names are unimportant. This god never bothered to take one, so style him Justice, or perhaps the Divine Enforcer.

And pray that you do not cross him; his body and will alike are daunting. He seems to tower over all that he comes across, larger than everything except the smallest of laws and rules. None have ever looked upon his visage (if even he has one), for in the emptiness of the void he wrought his force of will into a near-impervious suit of unadorned plate armor that covers him utterly. He is large but generally humanoid in shape, and his armor is a bleak gray that neithers shines nor get sullied by dirt and rust – it simply is how it is. Even by divine standards his strength and endurance are prodigious – he seemingly never tires, slows, hesitates, or stops, and his personality is just as relentless, forthright, and stubborn as his body.

From the first moment that he landed upon Galbar he has sworn to uphold his aspect. He respects all oaths, laws, and rules and expects the same of others. False or broken oaths, treachery, and hypocrisy (only in the sense of thinking one’s self above the rules that one has declared for others) are the most blatant of injustices and wrongs to him, and they incense him greatly. If it were possible he would personally stop any and all such instances and uphold every legitimate rule and regulation set forth by mortals and immortals alike, but alas, he is neither omniscient nor omnipotent and must submit to the realities of utilitarianism and of his limited reach. In his relentless pursuit to uphold order and authority, he is not concerned at all with the actual morality or fairness of the laws that exist – Justice does not judge or make the rules, for justice is simply the enforcement of those that exist.

Fortunately, his aspect endows him with the ability to delegate this sacred charge of his unto others. He can easily instill a fraction of his own fervor, ethos, and indefatigable will into others, and this greatly helps him in the organization of sacred orders and the elevation of heroes to uphold the law and spread his ideals of justice throughout the world. His aspect also makes him especially perceptive in his ability to discern lies from truth, and he can sometimes sense when any force or object is rebelling against the law or its lot.

An OOC note to the GMs – I’m not trying to get a free artifact out of his suit of armor and will pay 5 MP for it in my first post, I just don’t want to think up and then describe whatever form he takes for the one or two paragraphs before that happens.

The Court of the Gods

<Snipped quote by Oraculum>

>It's a valid concern, though I do have at least somewhat of a hook in mind since said character would likely be operating from afar at first if possible. Though I'd need to run some ideas by everyone first since my original concept of them being someone in charge of operating a medical nanite assembler with the original intention of curing any illnesses and the like among the cut off populace might not fly. Or might take a bit more working to make sense. But I could see an increase in depopulated villages or hamlets drawing the gods attention, along with rumors of "undead" or nanite resuscitated/pupptted corpses roaming the land.

@Zyx

I think these ideas are workable and was even hoping that somebody would make a character that's secretly (or possibly even openly) opposed to Zeus.

The Court of the Gods

@Zyx

Your examples there would both be fine by me. Regarding "technically all their tech doesn't violate known physics," I think it's cool when some sort of reasonable-sounding explanation can be given for how an artifact or technology works. That said, I'm willing to handwave it and just let the workings of some let some things be left vague or entirely unexplained, for the purpose of allowing things that make the story interesting.

The only thing I really don't want to see is blatant magic along the lines of the psykers from 40K or the Force from Star Wars. Just to be clear, technologies that can somehow fry brains or enable something resemblant of telekinesis would be fine, so it's not the powers there that I would object to so much as how the existence of actual magic goes against the setting's big theme of charlatans using sci-fi devices to fake magic and divinity.

But I think we're mostly along the same wavelength here. Feel free to join the Discord that I linked at the bottom of the OP!