Yamat. Was. Furious. He could feel it coming, he was sure all gods could feel it coming, his time in this world was coming to an end, his play, his beautiful play! It would all be unfinished, at the very least, his creations might be safe, he was sure the sword would cause problems, and his children, the Reshut and Iskrill would be more than happy to continue his work when he was gone.
He had found himself upon the beaches of the Kylsar isles when it came to come for him, well, they were somewhat beaches, the coast of these isles blended into the inland swamps rather beautifully. Yamat kneeled down upon the shore, looking outward towards the sea and Toraan. Taking it in, taking everything in.
He wanted to fight it, but he knew it was a futile effort, when the lifeblood began to show its presence, he merely sat, ignoring it, he would not show it any emotion, any respect, any acknowledgement, he just looked outward towards the ocean.
It took him away softly, leaving only the quiet wind of the shores in his place.
When Yamat awoke, it was dark, painfully so. He looked around, only to see an empty void in all directions. Raising his hands, the runes upon his skin glowed, at least, he had that, at least the lifeblood had not gotten rid of him, only locked him up. There were, worse fates. Yamat merely raised his hands and conducted a silent song once more, his eye closing, allowing the darkness to surround him.
Around him, a shore was created, a beautiful shore, overlooking a great sea with a bright sun, the sounds of animals filtered in from the vast forest behind him, he opened his eye and lowered his hands. Looking out upon the shore.
His fists clenched, his skin turned a stark white, his halo a deep red, his once golden mask and skirt turned as black as his former skin.
He. Was. Furious.
In instants the scene was gone, purged from his prison with the wave of his hand, he did not conduct anymore, this pitiful mockery did not deserve that. Instead, he destroyed, he turned the shore into a barren wasteland, engulfing the trees in a great fire, the ocean was destroyed, and the sun made into a blackened twisted remnant of its former self.
His mask began to crack, yet he continued.
Stones were shattered, mountains created then broken into dust, the dirt was made lifeless, a disgusting grey soot that barely would stay in place as the harsh winds whipped through the vast wasteland. He made mountains and jagged rocks, he searched through his mind and created the bones of creatures upon Galbar, and finally, he created the ruins, testaments to tragedy and its work, each one detailing the scenes of the play of life.
His mask shattered.
Yamat lowered his hand, gazing upon his prison, its broken land, his work, his, furious, work. He gently picked up the fragments of his mask, at least, he did not need it anymore, for he guessed he would be stuck here. He slowly walked through his prison, his skin returning to its normal color, his halo dimming, becoming golden like his skirt and former mask.
He had grown tired of walking.
He raised his free hand, crafting a small canopy, it was shoddy yes, but he did not care, he made himself a table, and chair, a place to rest. He placed himself within the chair, laying the fragments of his mask onto the table. He began to scratch his plans into the table, imagining what could have been.
He stayed like this for a while, sitting, scratching, staring, he did not care how long it had been, time was nothing to him.
That was, until the portal appeared, it appeared a bit away from his simple table, sitting there, Yamat did not know what to make of it. He only stared at it for another length of time, taking in its creation. He looked back upon the fragments of his mask, with a wave of a glowing runic hand, he fused them back together, placing the returned mask back upon his face.
He slowly rose from his chair, taking another look at his plans upon the table. He finally turned back to the portal, pressing forward.
The curtains were opening once more.
Yamat is upset over his future yeeting from the world, while he wants to fight against the lifeblood, he instead opts to just ignore it and enjoy the view. Upon arriving to his new realm he first recreates that scene, before growing furious once more and destroying it completely, resulting in the creation of his realm, the endless wastes. Once done he retires to a newly created canopy rest area, where he spends his isolation sketching his former plans until a portal arrives, gathering himself up Yamat opts to head through, ready to continue his play.
Yamat, as it were, didn't really need to walk. It was far more efficient to fly about or use some other godly means of transportation. However, if he did either of those it would be far harder for him to enjoy the more pleasurable things in life, such as moving your gangly body down overgrown paths in the forests and scarring of any poor deer or birds that just wanted to eat some grass. Sure, it was petty and hardly on the scale of Tragedy, but there was still something to be said for mild inconvenience.
Besides those small moments, there was also the great secondary benefit of walking to your destination of there being other people who were walking to their destination. And sometimes, people were lucky enough to cross paths, or unlucky if they crossed it with him. So, while Yamat traveled back to his home in the Kyslar Isles, he, as with all the journeying he did, did it by foot.
As he plodded along the trail that pressed through the fens, Yamat found himself quite content. He had just passed by a small group of Thumblings, lost in their travellings, and had been happy to help. It was quite unfortunate, however, that the directions he had given them were a tad bit too cryptic and the two most trusted thumblings were so hot headed. They would surely start to argue over which would be the right path, forcing the party to split in two depending on who they believed, instead of listening to each other's arguments. Well, either way, at least half of the Thumblings would make it back home.
It was pleasing to be able to work such simple works; he didn’t even need to use his godly powers! Which was a good thing, since he had been feeling just the smallest bit weary as of late. It would be nice to rest for a while back at his home.
Well, maybe he had enough left in him for one last jaunt. Yamat took a step off of the trail and pressed his body against a gnarled tree. He toned down the glowing of his halo and, in that strange way things that are unmissable when they are moving do, disappeared from sight as he grew still. Yamat lay in wait as the unmistakable sound of someone singing drifted down the trail. Someone singing really badly, but singing nonetheless.
The singing figure soon showed themselves from around the bend in the trail. An older looking woman was swaying on top of a large beast of somesort. Her simple gray robes hung down and over the tall animal’s flanks as it trekked through the swampy lands. Besides the laurel of feathers she wore on her head, she looked incredibly familiar, although Yamat could not remember where he knew her from. That didn’t matter though, Yamat smiled to himself. Usually he doesn’t meet people twice, but if he did, that would be extra special. As the woman and her mount made their way down the path, Yamat stayed silent. He could swear that the animal she was riding could sense him somehow, although since it never did look at him directly, he stayed still.
Finally, when the pair was right next to him, Yamat decided to reveal himself.
The god unraveled himself from the tree, taking a step out onto the pathway, he gazed upon the pair and spoke ”Why hello there travellers, what brings you to this neck of the swamps?” He asked, cutting off the woman’s singing and performing a slight bow with his strange body.
The mount instantly swung his head towards Yamat, beginning to issue out a low growl, but the old woman put her hand on his head to calm him, a small smile on her face.
“Well, I believe that is a personal matter,” She said plainly, “Although if you must know, we were simply passing through. Now, what might you do with that information?”
The god chuckled ”Merely curious is all, he extended one of his arms, gesturing towards the swamps ”I take great care of any who enter these swamps
“That is a pretty big job,” The woman chuckled as she passed Yamat, her mount not stopping, “May I ask, are you one of those gods who have been running about, or just some hero or magical creation. There seem to be so many of those these days.”
”I am merely a humble guardian, built by the creator of these swamps to guard it from those who would seek to destroy it,” Yamat followed the mount, spinning his tale and using his long strides to keep pace ”I also tend to offer help to those travelling within, so that they may find the right path, it can be rather dangerous here if one where to, get lost.”
“That is quite kind of you,” The woman nodded slowly, as if in thought, “You know, I happen to be a little bit turned around myself, would it be a bother if I could ask for directions to the next town?”
At that, the woman’s mount turned its head to look at its master, something akin to surprise in its eyes. The woman just gave it a knowing smile and it turned back to the road. Yamat frowned, although no one could see it. The mount was not acting much like a simple beast of burden, it seemed rather smart. Yamat scrutinized the woman’s face, certain he knew her from somewhere but couldn’t quite remember where.
“Well,” Yamat began slowly, trying to not create any suspicious silences, “There are hardly any groups of humans for a long while… I could show you to a village of the Thumblings if that would suffice.”
“That sounds quite lovely.”
Yamat smiled, she was just all too trusting. He would give her directions, but he would also lead her straight to a deep mire. There, her mount will surely get stuck. She seemed to have a great bond with the creature, so it would all be so tragic if it were to die. Either she would get herself killed trying to save it or she would abandon her close companion, only to be trapped in the land of the Thumblings, none of her own people around and having to live with the guilt of letting the great beast die. If she chose the latter option, Yamat would make sure to show her after the fact how many ways she could have avoided the situation, a little salt in the wounds. A perfect addition to his play.
”Here, I’ll part the trees to make a path for you,” Yamat made an enormous and dramatic flair, a whole lot of pomp for an action that was very insignificant for a god. The undergrowth that spurred away from a new trail that shot off into the swamp, straight towards the most dangerous parts, “Now, be sure to stay on the path, and never stray no matter what. This trail leaves my part of the swamp and enters my brother’s, and he isn’t nearly as helpful as me.”
Yamat made a mental note to line the trail with all sorts of things that would make an old lady disobey that advice. The old woman smiled in thanks and then patted her mounts neck to get it to turn. It seemed rather adamant about not turning and Yamat briefly considered working some charm on it to force it down the path. Luckily, it did listen to its rider and the pair started down Yamat’s doomed trail. Yamat smiled to himself, another fine work completed.
The duo stopped just a few steps into their tragic direction and the old woman turned back to look at Yamat. Yamat felt a sudden twinge that everything just went horribly wrong…
“Say, Mr. Guardian,” She began, a foul glint in her eye, “What is your name? Just so I know who to say helped me.”
“Oh, a simple swamp spirit like me has no name,” Yamat tried to maintain the act, despite the fact that some sixth sense told him it was falling apart, “Why do you ask?”
“Oh, no reason,” the woman chuckled, “It just is’t every day you meet a God who lies, I didn't think that any of you could do it.”
Yamat took a step back, his one eye narrowing and the glow of his halo growing angry: “Who are you, have we met before?” Suddenly realization dawned in his eyes and Yamat begna to laugh, “You’re that woman, the one who I helped a few months back. Did you track me across the whole continent? Well I’m sorry to say that it isn’t really my fault; you are the reason your son commited suicide. I’m sure if you hadn’t exposed his lover both young men would still be alive!”
Yamat felt giddy and completely out of character but he couldn’t help it. A character from a previous scene had gone on, adding more layers to her tragedy. And all by herself! Wasting the rest of her life to track down a god she could do nothing against, all for petty revenge! It was beautiful.
”Wow, you sound like a real piece of work!” A sudden gruff voice rumbled out, interrupting Yamat’s laughing.
“Who was that,” Yamat growled, surprised that someone had somehow slipped his perceptions.
”That was Toog,” The woman laughed, her entire aura changing in an instant, taking Yamat aback, “And I’m Iternis. I’ve got to say, I am quite fascinated by you, ‘Mr. Guardian'”
Yamat looked at the great beast, Toog, and realized he had been the one to talk, finally realizing the intelligence glowing in them. He then turned back to the woman, who had extended her hand in greeting and seemed to be radiating some invisible energy.
“You are a god.” Yamat sighed, disappointed in himself for not noticing sooner, “That is quite the plot twist, the extra turned out to be a lead role…” He trailed off but then jumped slightly before going into a deep, almost sincere, bow, “Yamat at your service.”
”As if we need any of your services,” Toog the dog growled, “He reeks of all sorts of misdeeds.”
“Now, Toog,” Iternis playfully scolded, “He is technically my brother so we have to at least be somewhat polite… But in all honesty, you do seem a little sketchy. What are you the god of?”
Yamat chuckled ”Would it surprise you if I were to say you were the first to ask?”
“I think it would surprise me if I wasn’t the first to get the chance to ask. Judging by the fact that this path you made me would lead me fairly close to certain doom, I don’t get the feeling that many of your travel companions end off that well.”
”You would, be rather correct by that, but, since you managed to outperform me, I guess I owe you at least that.” Yamat spread his arms out, performing a few more extravagant gestures, ”I, am the god of Tragedy, bringing misfortune and pain to all who walk these lands.” As he ended his words, a nearby tree suddenly fell, landing upon a group of toads situated nearby.
“That is hardly godly,” The great dog growled, “Going around, doing harm to innocent people.”
“Well, I think that is a lovely work!” Iternis interjected, “Despite Toog’s opinions, I can appreciate a good Tragedy.”
“What!?” Toog barked indignantly, “How?”
“Well, we pretty much do the same things as Yamat here all the time.”
“No we don’t!” Toog shook his head in disapproval, his ears flopping all about.
“What about that human we stripped and threw into a ditch? That was pretty much the same situation.”
“It was not!” Toog growled, “He was stealing from passing wanderers and robbing them blind! The only reason he died was because he had driven anyone who could have helped him away from that trail!”
“If I may interject,” Yamat said, “that does sound a little tragic to me. What if that man was only stealing to feed his family.”
“He wasn’t”
“But what if he was?” Iternis interjected unhelpfully, causing Toog to buck the God of Journeys off his back in a sign of rebellion.
Iternis plummeted into the dirt, making no attempt to stop his descent which launched swampy mud all across Yamat’s legs.
“Regardless of Toog,” Iternis addressed Yamat, his voice muffled as he was still face down in the dirt, “I think Tragedy has its place in this world. Although try not to go too overboard.”
‘I’ll keep that in mind,” Yamat chuckled as he bent down to hoist Iternis out of the mud, “Although have got to ask, how did you know to take the form of that woman?”
“Oh, this ol’ thing?” Iternis gestured at his body as he hung from Yamat’s arms, “I’m pretty sure it just decides what it wants to look like on its own. I’ve given up trying to make it stick to a single style.”
Iternis exploded into a swarm of birds and flapped back towards Toog, where he coalesced back into the form of a mortal, this time a tall, rugged-looking Alminaki male.
“See, the damn thing just up and changes on you!”
Yamat chuckled and then gave a bow, “It was nice to meet you, Iternis, God of Journeys.”
“Likewise, Yamat, God of Tragedy,” Iternis parroted Yamat’s theatrical delivery of lines.
“I disagree-” Toog tried to interject but was cut off by Iternis.
“I get the general feeling that you want to be kept on the down low,” Iternis said as he leaned back on Toog, “So I won’t tell any of the other gods about you if you don’t want me to.”
“That would be nice of you.”
“Then, until next time,” Iternis declared as he returned Yamat’s bow.
Iternis patted Toog’s neck who muttered something along the lines of “finally!” and then shot off through the swamp at breakneck speeds, leaving Yamat standing alone. Yamat stood there for a short while before smiling and starting back off on his way to the Kyslar Isles. You see, this is why gods should walk everywhere even if they can fly. You never know when you’ll have a pleasant chance encounter.
Yamat is travelling by foot back to his home in the Kyslar Isles so he can cause as much tragedy and misfortune along the way. In the Weeping Planes, after doing his work on some Thumblings, Yamat comes across a traveller riding on a big beast and decides that he has enough energy in him for some more chakanery.
Yamat pulls some Mischief Time on the traveller and almost succeeds when the Traveler reveals themselves to actually be Iternis, riding on Toog. Yamat, appreciating the fact that he had been the one played, introduces himself to Iternis and Toog and the three have a short conversation. Iternis can appreciate Yamat’s role in the world while Toog is lame and thinks Yamat is a big poopoo dingus and shouldn’t be causing so much trouble for people because apparently Toog is bogged down by something called a “Strong moral Compass”
The two gods part ways and Iternis promises that he won't tell all the other gods about Yamat's work. Iternis rides off on Toog and Yamat returns to his journey home, happily reminiscing on how he always prefers walking instead of air travel.
Yamat descended the mountains and found himself walking across the wide open plains of Toraan, he gazed upon the massive tree in the far distance. He looked upon his arms, the golden sigils still steamed and hissed, the flesh around them had become burnt looking, his power had been depleted a great deal from making the Earth Breaker, once more he gazed upon the tree, they could wait, he needed to rest. As he turned back towards the north, a new presence came unto him, it was faint and far off in the distance but it was incredibly drawing, he needed to find it.
He walked towards the north rapidly, leaving behind him the mighty Tree, he would come back there later, once he was stronger.
As he passed through the mountains the air grew colder, he found himself within mighty highlands, dominated by hills and a giant river. The presence had grown closer, it was not as powerful as the ones of the Prairies or the Mountains, but it was still so enticing, and so Yamat continued to walk, closer and closer.
What he came upon was something he had never seen before, it was a small collection of tent-like buildings, crafted together from hide and bone, smoke emerged from some of the tent’s tops and these strange creatures moved about. They were unlike anything Yamat had ever seen, they did not cover themselves up like his Reshut with masks and robes, instead they kept their faces free, they were, strange looking, but it was obvious the presence he had felt came from these beings.
Yamat watched these beings intently, he observed their movements and actions from a distance, intrigued by their way of life. Then, something interesting happened, an old figure, who Yamat assumed to be the leader of this small group, gathered everyone in their central area, with him were two strong looking men carrying a large sack, which Yamat could tell was filled with food, though, not a lot. The elder began to distribute the food, they were small morsels, a single family barely getting enough to survive, it was then when Yamat realized that these creatures were incredibly thin, the smaller children looked almost on the verge of death.
That, is when it all clicked in his mind, he could help these creatures, in his own special way. His form shifted to that of an old man similar to that of the elder, his eyes covered by a golden cloth and the rest of his body covered by a golden robe with cuts and gashes upon his back. He stepped forward into the village, greeting the gathered creatures.
”Greetings children.” He spoke softly, doing his best to not agitate the villagers.
The elder spun around, the gathered villagers stepped back, shocked at the sudden appearance of the figure. “W..who are you?” The elder asked.
”I am a, concerned party, I have noticed your people’s predicament.” He gestured to the sack and food or well, lack of it. The elder turned towards his people, the small scraps of food in their hands “Why….yes, we have very little food, savage creatures have been making hunting hard and we have already lost some of our best...can you help us?” the elder’s voice was shaky, obviously these people had endured a lot already.
”Why, of course I can help, He walked slowly towards the center of the village ”for you see, I hold great power and can grant a blessing upon your people.”
“Are you…a god?” The elder asked, on the verge of kneeling, as were the other villagers.
”Yes, I am.” In an instant the villagers had fallen to their knees, many avoiding Yamat’s gaze.
“Please great one,” The elder said, “Please save us.” He grabbed Yamat’s arm as soon as he was close enough, and looked at him with eyes filled with sorrow, pleading for relief.
Yamat crouched, meeting the elder’s height ”Have no fear my children, I will save you,” He rose, and spoke to the crowd ”Gather round, sit, and close your eyes, breath softly, I will give you all the gift of the gods.”
They did as they were told, gathering in a circle around the god, sitting down, children in mother’s laps, fathers next to them, a small child gazed up at Yamat, a ting of fear within their eye.
”Do not be afraid, young one.” Yamat spoke, softly cradling the child’s head in his hand ”Sit down, it will all be fixed soon.”
The child nodded and softly sat down upon the cold earth, closing their eyes alongside the other villagers. Yamat stood in the center, raising his arms, his form began to shift away, replaced by the blackened skin and burning yellow runes, his halo and mask reformed and his height grew. He began to conduct his invisible music once more, the glowing runes and halo illuminating the growing dark village. The villagers did as they were told, sitting, closed eyes, the elder began to softly sing a song, the others followed. To Yamat, it almost felt as if he were conducting them.
CRACK, SNAP
Bones brokes, flesh tore open, the voices did not waver, it was not painful, but they could feel it, the blessing of the gods upon them. Their forms twisted and contorted, bone and flesh fusing and snapping into new shapes, their two arms became four, mouths filled with pointed sharp teeth, their flesh became a pallid grey, then, each one began to transform differently.
The hunters, what remained of them, became bukly, their legs became digitigrade ending with clawed grotuegse feet, their hands clawed, goat like horns broke free through their foreheads, their snouts and jaws elongated with the end parts of their wolf like jaws being free of flesh and skin, purely bone, and their eyes and ears became wolf-like, and finally blood red fur grew in haggard patches instead of their normal hair. Their minds were stuffed full of savage thoughts, geared for the hunt, they were still sapient but could rarely think beyond that of hunting down food.
The non hunters had their eyes become a deep fleshy red and their hair became a stark white, twisted and jagged elk like horns broke free from their skulls, their bones grew jagged and the flesh and tissue gave way to allow them to be double jointed, their legs twisted and snapped into a unguligrade form, ending with cloven hooves and two whip like tails sprouted from their lower backs. Their minds were kept the same as before, now adapted and used to their new forms, yet a hunger grew inside them.
The women retained a good deal of their old beauty, bone growths and plates covered their skin, with some portions becoming a fleshy blood red, their hair becoming flesh like and plates covered their eyes and top of their heads, leaving their mouths free, their feet twisted and became anew, with jagged and pointed heels, and long and thick fleshy tails emerged from their lower backs. Their minds were heightened, made greater than what it was before, their senses too had become heightened due to their lack of normal eyesight, but much like the others, they felt a hunger within.
The children were spared most of the transformations, only gaining the base amounts to determine their future form between the three types. Yamat gazed upon his newest creations, they were utterly perfect in his mind, he continued his playing just a little bit longer, enough to instill in them something more, that hunger they had all felt. Only flesh could sate the hunger they felt deep within their stomachs, the flesh of beasts could sate them, but the flesh of sapients, beings like them or what they were before the gift was given to them, could sate them so much more.
The villagers gazed upon their new forms, taking in every last bit of their twisted bones and flesh, their massive horns, or even just sitting there, letting it all wash over them. The elder was the first to speak after the silence that ensued. “What did you do to us?” The elder’s voice was full of fear, unsure of how to react.
”I gave you my blessing, simple as that, you asked me to fix your problem.” Yamat opened his arms, gesturing towards the villagers, many of whom were still shocked at the drastic transformation. ”And so, I did just that, in my own little special way.”
“This is...now what I expected.”
”Well, it is what I have given you, trust me, this will solve, all of your problems.” Yamat drew closer to the elder, staring him down with his single bright eye.
“What...what do we do now?” He asked, gazing up in awe at Yamat’s full form.
”Well, you can feel that hunger deep inside you can you not?” The elder nodded, Yamat reached down, picking up a small berry from the food assembled around, ”Well, plants like this will not sate you or your people, so you will not have to worry about gathering, instead, only flesh will sate you, that of beasts or..” The god trailed off, looking at the elder.
“Or what?” the elder asked, looking upon his people, who had begun to slowly get up, adapting to their new forms, the hunters already seemed to be on the scent of something, and looked anticipatingly towards the elder and Yamat.
”The flesh of other beings like you, those who can think for themselves, sapients, if you will,” Yamat crouched down once more, placing his hand upon the forehead of the elder ”I'm sure you or your hunters can find some of those.”
The elder gazed upon the hunters, their eyes full of hunger “Yes...yes we can.” he muttered, his voice losing the fear it once had.
”Good, I suggest you begin your hunt then, but, remember the god who gave you this blessing, I, Yamat, always worship me.”
“Of course my lord.” The elder rose, looking upon the hunters “Gather your gear, you have a hunt to perform.” He spoke, the hunters smiled, and walked away, the scent of flesh eagerly pushing them forward. The elder turned back towards Yamat, yet the god had vanished, the elder looked around, but he was nowhere to be seen. He did not stay concerned about this, focusing himself upon his new people, he did not know why but a name came to him at that time, the Iskrill. He gathered his people, they had work to do.
Yamat gazed upon his new people from a distance, sitting upon a hill overlooking their village, they would be incredibly useful to his beautiful play. For now, he accepted allowing his new creations to gather themselves, grow, and expand, besides, his power was wanning, his runes had grown dim and his flesh looked horrid. He sighed, so many plans had to wait, he looked eastward, he opted to instead head back east, towards the isles he landed upon, check upon his lovely Reshut and see how they were doing. The god turned, and slowly walked from the highlands, another of his gifts delivered, a glorious play forming in his mind.
Yamat, growing weak opts to regain his power instead of giving another gift to the mighty tree in the south, but, as he turns north, he discovers another presence that entices him, and so he heads north to the boreal highlands. There he finds a village of humans, ones who have very little food due to their hunters being killed by savage creatures cough trolls cough, Yamat opts to aid this tribe in his own way. Appearing to the humans in his base form, he offers them a blessing to aid them, something the starving villagers are eager to accept. His blessing proves to be a transformation, creating the humans into a new species, the Iskrill, a horrifying race of new sinews and bone built to Yamat’s sick qualifications, but, Yamat does not cure their hunger, instead he directs it somewhere else, to sate the now ever present hunger deep within them, they must eat the flesh of either beast or sapients, with sapients being far better for them. He then explains this all to the elder of the new race, and demands they worship him always. At this point, Yamat leaves the new race to gather as he heads back to the Kylsar Isles, home of his beautiful Reshut to rest and regain his strength
Staring: 2mp/1dp 2mp=Create a new sapient species, the Iskrill, humans who begged for release from their starvation and food problems transformed into creatures who hunger for the flesh of their former brethren, divided into three groups of hunters, non-hunters, and the women. Ending: 0mp/1dp
Yamat had been drawn to these mountains sitting within the center of a continent, eager to leave the Prairies to their fate and avoid the wrath of Orealia, he had sought out another place to continue his playwriting and the power emanating from these marvels of stone was too good to pass up. Life here was not as abundant as the prairies but it was still noticeable, a massive forest stretched across the anchor, it was here Yamat had come to think and to ponder.
Above him, through the canopy of the great black trees, Yamat could see the mountains stretch further into the skies, he had sated himself with minor tragedies as he came here, nothing as destructive as the beauty he had unleashed upon the Prairie, the occasional fallen tree, minor storm, or well time predator, nothing that would stick. He knew he could not just leave this act with just one major description, and so, he set to climb one of the mountain peaks, the very center one, there he would give the mountains his gift.
The way was difficult, only through intense climbing could one truly make it to the top, this would not do for Yamat’s gift, and so, with burning sigils, Yamat created a pathway of stone steps emerging from the mountain, leading up to the top, each one was barely a foot’s length though and as he ascended his new path, he caused some steps to crumble away, and tightened the path in some places so that one could even barely walk, this was far more fun.
When he reached the peak, he extended the last step into a longer platform, barely enough for one to stand with both feet, but a platform nonetheless. Yamat gazed out towards the horizon, he could practically see nearly everything upon the continent, especially the form of a giant tree, its canopy wide and great, closer still were plains of bountiful growth, to the west stood strange isles, and northward again the prairies and its companion biomes, places yet untouched by his beautiful gift, but they would all get it in time, today, it was the mountain’s turn.
Yamat raised his hands once more, the sigils glowed and burnt once more, but this time, he let his arms jerk and move, if one were to see him they would relate it to a passionate composer, crafting the unseen music of tragedy in an empty theater, his one eye closed, leaving his mask pure gold and began to work. In front of him, stone and metal began to be pulled free from the mountain, the metal became red hot, shaped and fused into a pointed edge of beautiful brass and iron coloring, swirling into one another, the stone was shifted into a handle, beautiful and intricate designs were formed, giving it a design unlike any seen before. Yamat raised his hands higher, the sword, now complete, shined in the light of the sun.
CRACK
With a sudden drop of his arms, Yamat sent the sword deep into the peak, the mountain cracked at the sudden entrance and the blade stood stuck, only its handle and a small portion of its blade stood out from its new confinement. But he was far from finished. Conducting the song even further, Yamat did not let his hands or arms drop, instead, he held his right hand out, causing an unseen crescendo as his left hand continued its work.
The mountain began to shake.
A deep rumbling roar emanated from the mountain he stood upon, loose rock and stone fell from its placement, the stone pathway began to collapse even further, making the already treacherous path far greater, and it kept going. The woods down below felt it, trees collapsed as the mountain rained stone and boulders upon the region, even further beyond the roar of the earth shaking could be felt, the entire mountains felt it. Animals fled and hid from the rain of stones, it was as if the mountains themselves would crumble at any moment, rock slides formed, drowning sections of the woods in dust and dirt. Portions of unstable land collapsed in on itself, forming rifts and valleys leading to a shallow or deep grave for any creatures caught in them.
Yamat had raised both hands by now, a grand crescendo for a glorious song, the mountains continued to rumble and shake. In the flash of an eye, his hands whipped around, silencing the crescendo. The earth fell silent, his gift had been made. He finally opened his eye, taking in the sword that now stood there within the peak, one of his far better works. He descended the steps, coming to the base of the mountain, with another flash of runes he erected a stone pillar, there, written in strange glyphs, there was a message.
“The earth will quake and roar every 20 year, it will bring destruction to all around this mighty anchor of the world, the mountains will bring destruction upon the land surrounding them and the world will open up in great fissures. Only by climbing this mountain and reaching its peak will one be able to stop it, there sits a great sword and when pulled from its stone cell will the world finally fall silent and it will, ever grateful, give the hero who accomplished such a feat a great boon.”
This was sure to attract foolhardy adventurers and heros, wishing to do good for their people, only to either fall to their deaths or suffer that great boon. Yamat chuckled, he had seemed to have forgotten that little bit hadn’t he? Once pulled from the peak the sword would curse its wielder with great misfortune, brining plagues, war, famines, heartbreak, the likes to their life, and it would not stop, descending down the line of closest companion or relative unless put back into the stone, where the quakes would begin once more.
A quest that can never be truly completed, a beautiful work if he did say so himself, he was sure some lineage or order would come around, suffering the curse so that they may save the mountains and the lands around it, but no matter, they could be dealt with if they emerged. For now, there was still so much work to do, yet, he felt his power wanning, he had used a great deal to craft that sword and its effects. He turned to the south, seeing that great giant tree and its canopies, he could afford one last stop, it would not be a great tragedy, but he was sure it would be a nice entr'acte.
After causing Orealia to break down and ravaging the Prairies, Yamat heads southward, towards the Anchor of the World, massive mountains that attract him due to their wealth of power. After causing a few small tragedies the idea for a greater one comes to him, he ascends the centermost mountain, creating a treacherous path as he did. Once at the top he conducts his great tragedy, creating a sword that while embedded into the peak, will cause earthquakes to rock the mountains and when pulled out, will curse the wielders and their descendents. After creating it and causing the first earthquake, Yamat heads to the base, crafting a stone pillar with the prophecy on how to stop the quakes written on it, leaving out the curse part. With that done he is drawn to the great tree, hoping to cause some tragedy there as he departs.
2mp/5dp Creation of the Earth Breaker: 2mp/2dp: Earth Breaker:(DP used for both) Earthshaker II: When embedded into stone, the Sword causes earthquakes to rock the surrounding area every 20 years or whenever put into the ground, only when pulled from stone do they stop. Cursed II: When pulled from stone, the blade curses its wielders to endure great misfortune and tragedy for as long as they live, once they die, the curse passes to the next wielder of the blade. Whoever that might be, only when the blade is returned to the stone does it stop. Ending MP: 2MP/1DP 2mp towards Destruction port
Yamat had been drawn to this place, a wide open prairie that stretched far into the horizon. Life was found in abundance, more than Yamat had ever witnessed, far more than what he had found within the isles he fell to. This would be the perfect place to begin his task, but what to begin with?
He gazed upon the plains of yellow grass, the herds of bison and elephants, the open skies...that gave him an idea. The winds softly blew as Yamat raised his arms, letting the sigils glow and sizzle once more, soft at first, but growing as he instilled his powers once more into the world. The clouds grew darker, larger, they encompassed the sky, the winds picked up and became to whip at the grass. The animals, unsure of what was going on, began to flee in all directions.
The clouds began to swirl, faster, and faster, until the vortex began to form. Yamat gently let it touch down, as the winds kept up their pace, then, he let it loose. The tornado ripped through the prairies, picking up animals and plants alike, ravaging the land, but he knew he could go farther.
He brought the winds across the Prairies, he made it so that every inch was not untouched by the tornados, but, he did not make them constant. He instead opted to make them random, they would come at unexpected times, only the rushing of the winds and a darkened sky would be the only warning for his beautiful gift upon the prairies.
Yamat watched his tornados go through the prairies, his first one had petered out, but more were forming, it was, beautiful. Nothing could ruin this serene moment he had made for himself, the rushing of winds and the roaring of tornados. It was, music.
Under blue skies, Oraelia was once again in her Prairie. She had come across a pride of Leons, and was playing with the three cubs, under the watchful eye of a Leoness. The cubs were almost as large as her and they had so much energy! She could hardly contain herself as they rolled around in the dirt, mock fighting and wrestling. They quickly learned that they could be as rough as they wanted with her, because Oraelia hardly felt it. She was just content to make friends.
She giggled as a cub pounced on her, biting with it’s full force on her side, which really just tickled her. ”O-Oh! Oh!” she laughed, gently swatting the cub away. ”You’re growing strong, little one!” she said, watching it and the other two as they formed a pile of wriggling bodies.
Then the wind changed, growing colder and the skies darkened before her. The cubs retreated to their mother as Oraelia stood up with a perplexed look on her face. A storm? So suddenly? The wind began to howl and before her the currents of warm and cold air whipped into a frenzy around one another, forming something truly terrible. She knew not what it was, only that it frightened even her. She watched the funnel touch down on the prairie, sending great plumes of dust and debris into the air. Animals began to run in her direction, scared out of their minds as the wind roared like some monstrous thing.
She turned around, only to find the Leons gone, taking off into the sky. The cubs struggled against the wind, and her heart began to beat as she took off in a blinding flash before the funnel of wind caught them. She caught two of them with her arms around their necks, and they howled in fear. They were terrified. Yet before she could even think about getting the other cub, another funnel erupted to the side of her, the side where the leoness and cub were. It happened so quickly, they were there one moment and then… They were gone.
A wail escaped her lips, as she flew faster, dodging more and more funnel clouds and the devastation they wrought. Eventually they escaped the cloud itself, and she landed, letting the cubs free. They huddled next to each other, shaking. Oraelia looked back to see the devastation unfold before her eyes, and she felt powerless.
But she was a god. Had she forgotten so quickly? She flew once more, back into the storm of storms and she yelled a simple word, one she had heard a long time ago.
”STOP!” And her word was obeyed.
The frenzy of wind began to die down, as the clouds dispersed to reveal sunlight upon a broken prairie. The intense wind had cut large swathes of destruction, like great scars. Where once there had been grass, now only dirt remained. Everything was strewn about, even the animals. Many had died, or were dying. She flew closer. Her tears began to fall as she wondered if this could be a part of the cycle. Was it? Was this natural? She brought a hand to her mouth as she came upon a Leon. Upon his side he lay, wings and limbs broken by the wind, and his fall. His breaths were ragged, and there was a pained look in his eye. She soothed the Leon with her warm touch, attempting to heal it, but once again she was too late. The Leon took his last breath before growing still.
She broke down, curling herself into a ball next to the Leon as she cried. Death was a part of the cycle, and she had seen it play out over and over again, but there was something about this… This death… It was not right.
Such windstorms had not been in her designs for the Prairie, and she had never seen them exist anywhere else. What had changed? What had brought about this needless loss of life? She had made the balance here, was it not good enough? Did there need to be uncertainty? The wind was natural, yes, but to that level? It had taken the cub that tickled her… The cubs!
She needed to return to them, before she lost more. She flew into the sky, but stopped when she felt a presence. A presence she had never felt before. It was another god.
The winds had stopped, dammit why had they stopped! Yamat frantically looked around at the ravaged plains, animals layed about uttering anguished wails, unable to get up due to broken bones. Where the tornados had landed and moved through there only remained open dirt, having ripped the grass from the soil. His storms had just ended, they weren’t supposed to do that! What happened? He could’ve sworn they were supposed to continue, at least for another few hours. It was going to be beautiful!!!
He began to walk around the ruined prairies, taking in the tragedy that had befallen the region, while having been cut short its effects were still to Yamat’s liking. The tornadoes would take a great deal to recover from, though he was unsure if they would continue like he had planned, he needed to check, this strange full stop was rather frustrating.
That's when he felt it, something he had never felt, another god, close, very close. Yamat was drawn to the presence, it was full of life much like the prairies, or well, before he had arrived. His curiosity took over and he slowly walked towards the presence, intrigued by meeting another of his kind.
He didn’t have to walk long before a glowing light shot across the horizon and stopped before him. She looked at him with a neutral face, before a sad smile crossed her lips.
”H-Hello, sibling.” she began, ”Who might you be?” she asked curiously.
He bowed, his lanky body almost doubling over itself "I am Yamat," He returned to a standing position, extending his hand to the glowing woman "And who might you be?"
She looked at his hand, but made no move forward. ”Yamat…” she said softly. ”I am Oraelia, Yamat. When did you come to be?” she inquired.
Lowering his hand, Yamat pondered, looking off in the distance "I am unsure, all I can remember is falling and landing onto some isles to the east, I was drawn here for all the life it had, is this your creation?" He looked around the prairies, ignoring the obvious destruction.
She smiled at that. ”Yes, it is indeed. Though I… It’s had storms, maybe you saw them?” she asked.
"Why yes I believe I did," He spoke with some sincerity "They seemed so sudden and so, tragic."
”Yes…” she whispered, looking off into the distance. ”They were not a part of my original design.” she looked back at him. ”You… You wouldn’t happen to know why they came about, do you?”
He shrugged, looking up towards the now empty sky "I can't say that I do, I arrived just as they began." He looked at Oraelia, taking in her form “Perhaps it was an enemy of yours? Or maybe a rogue god? If either of those exist.” Her shoulders seemed to droop slightly and a sad expression crossed her face. ”Oh… I was hoping to find out who… Oh well.” she stood up a little straighter and looked at Yamat and shook her head. ”I am not aware of any enemies I have… We fellow gods are siblings, after all. Perhaps it was just… the Lifeblood, or… I don’t know.” she sighed. ”I apologize, brother, but I must cut this meeting short. I need to go tend to the hurt and wounded.” she said with a sad smile.
“Of course sister,” He bowed once more, this time a bit less deep. “I wish you the best of luck in your endeavors, if you ever require any help in finding who did this, I am willing to help as much as I can.” She nodded and with that he turned and began to walk away.
”Oh, Yamat!” Oraelia called after him.
He spun around, stopping in his place “Yes Oraelia?”
”Your halo… I like it.” she said.
Yamat gave a small nod, reaching one of his hands to touch the soft edges of the light behind his head “Why thank you,” He looked her up and down once more “I greatly enjoy your creations, I hope we meet again one at less, tragic times.”
She beamed him a smile. ”Of course! See you again soon!” she said, waving him off.
Yamat waved back, turning around once more and taking in the broken Prairies. How, tragic it had been that the culprit could not be caught, how tragic indeed. Yamat chuckled, this was the perfect beginning to his play, and he had countless more acts and scenes to create.
Yamat finds himself within the Prairie of Sol, attracted by the life it held, he then enacts his first great tragedy, causing tornadoes to rip through the prairie, taking both animal and plant alike. Oraelia meanwhile sits in the prairie with a Leon mother and plays with some cubs. Suddenly the tornados appear, causing destruction she had never witnessed before, the cubs and mother are taken up by the storm, with Oraelia only managing to save two of the cubs. She ends the storms with her powers, and witnesses the results, including the death of a male Leon. Yamat, angered begins to investigate and notices Oraelia, who has noticed him too. They have a nice conversation, with Yamat denying knowing anything about the storms, they depart shortly afterward.
Oraelia 2MP/5DP 2MP/5DP
Yamat 2MP/5DP 0MP-Adding Tornados to the Praire of Sol, ecosystem 2MP/5DP
Katsunao felt the air rush around him, his eyes gazed upwards towards the cliffside, his brother stood there, arms outstretched. That bastard, that damn bastard, he had brought him to this place, to “bury the hatchet” he said “to put the past behind them” he said, that fucking bastard. He knew what he wanted, he wanted his respect and power for himself, he wanted his wife, he wanted his life and that fucker had gotten it all. With all his might he cursed his brother, he cursed him to damnation, to suffer countless years of torment and terror, to see him rot in the darkest pits of the underworld the complete and UTTER BA-
THUD
The being crashed into the sodden and water logged dirt, above it several branches had shattered and cracked, falling with them. They were as black as the night above, golden runes and sigils etched into their skin, long clawed hands grasped at the ground, ensuring it was stable, then aided the long, thin, and pointed legs in bringing the thin and emaciated body to its fullest height. Their hands reached up to their face, softly touching its skin, this would not do, they held out their hand, feeling the pull of power, slowly, a golden mask formed in their hand, a single eye hole on the left side, they brought the mask to their face, it fit perfectly upon it, with the eye hole being filled with a bright white light, behind their head a glowing golden halo formed, bright with fuzzy dimmer edges, they also waved their free hand, forming a beautiful golden skirt to cover their lower half.
The being now took the time to look around where it had fallen to, large twisted trees reached towards the sky, blocking out the sun with their canopies, or well they did where a being hadn’t just crashed through, in which case light poured into the dim land. A flowing waterway sat about a few meters in front of them, it looked rather deep and was at least 30 meters wide, all around them insects of massive and small sizes buzzed about, birds squaked in the trees and rested along the banks, rodents of various sizes scuttled about, the being found them, endearing, they saw two large rodents stop to drink from the waterways, they seemed to be together and-
SNAP
A large reptilian creature emerged from the waterways, with massive jaws it crunched down on one of the creatures, dragging it into the water as the other one fled. Dark blood pooled upon the surface of the river, the being was horrified at the sudden act of violence and recoiled away. It looked upon itself once more, it knew it was a god, but, it didn’t quite understand itself, it only knew it wanted to create something. It raised one of its hands, and directed it towards one of the birds sitting idly by the river bank, the runes etched into their skin glowed and burned, they didn’t entirely know what they were doing, but it felt right. In a rapid instant, the bird was snatched by a black tendril fitted with a sharpened end, it pierced the avian’s breast and killed it within in instant, even quicker it flung the corpse back, towards its original point. The being looked at its hand, the runes now dying down and fizzling, had they caused that?
Suddenly from the dense forests and vegetation came a strange creature, it held itself upright with four clawed legs, stone tipped tendrils whipped around its back, and its face was a bleached white masked like stone with two large tusks, bits of feather and one long leg could be seen sinking into the plate covered purple flesh, it came forward to the being and then, stopped. It sat itself down in front of the being and lowered its head, almost showing respect to them. The being held out their hand, softly resting it upon the creature’s mask like face, it was fairly similar to the mask they themselves wore upon their face, smooth except for the tusks and the eye holes, the being knew this creature’s name, in the back of their mind: a Kre’Nasha, he felt a strong attachment to them.
WOOSH
The being turned his head upward, above him flew a massive moth like creature, only barely visible through the canopy, intrigued and fascinated the being slowly brought themselves upward through the trees, drifting upwards with rudimentary flight, the Kre’Nasha below sat valiantly, waiting their return. Settling themselves upon the canopy the being saw the full might of the giant moth, it floated lovingly in the wind, the sky above was illuminated by the bright sun, i wonder if it could fall the being thought, an urge came to it, and it look upon the moth once more, it raised its hand, the rune crackles and burned once more. Suddenly from the sky came a creature of multiple heads, spitting acid at the giant moth and trying to take it down, the moth roared in pain and fought back, the two creatures crashed into the earth, causing several trees to collapse into the waterways. The being brought itself down once more, it looked upon the Kre’Nasha, it hadn’t even bothered looking at the chaos unfolding in the distance, the being looked around again, they wanted to test more and more.
They traveled throughout the Isles they had found themselves on, full of swampish forests and rocky crags, where they went, tragedy followed, creatures died, trees collapsed, mountains fell. But something wasn’t right, the being needed something more, it desired something more. It stopped itself on the largest isle, deep in the swamp forests, it gathered materials and items and felt its power flow through itself once more. From the muck, woods, water, and bones of lost creatures, they fused and formed them into a form, two legs, two arms, tall like the being itself, it created something much like itself and gave it thought, far more thought then the beasts of the isles and the Kre’Nasha that followed him around.
The creation came into life sentient, it fell to its knees after the being was finished, looking up upon its creator, at first the being was not sure what to do with its new creation, but the creation made the first move. It dragged its hands upwards to its face, touching it, then, much like its creator, it looked around and found some wood, it held up the piece and pointed towards it, then to the being’s own face, the point was rather clear. The being took the piece of wood into its hands, and shaped it into a beautiful mask, two eye holes for its creation, and beautiful black and gold colouring, reflecting the being themselves. It handed the mask back to their creation, who was quick to put it upon their face, with it fitting perfectly. It was at this point that the being realized their creations needed a name….they needed a name as well.
"Yamat...that shall be my name"
The christened Yamat turned towards his creation, it sat upon the floor, tilting its head towards them.
"Hmmmm, you shall need a name as well, and more people"
With a wave of his hand, more of the creations came into existence, each one given a specially crafted mask, both tailored to their identity and admittingly to make it easier for Yamat to recognize them. By the time they were finished, there were thousands of the beings, with their newfound sentience they began to organize and work.
"I dub thee, the Reshut, my greatest of followers" Yamat declared, but, as soon as the Reshut had been created, tragedy struck.
Two brothers, one respected among the fledgling people and Yamat’s first creation, and another less so, had engaged in a constant feud with one another. The lesser brother had invited the greater one to the rocky crags and thrown him from its cliffs. The people were in mourning, and so too, was Yamat, he punished the lesser brother by causing the cliffs beneath him to collapse, but he was not quick enough to save his first creation, his favorite one. It seemed to be that wherever he went, whatever he created even before his own creation, tragedy followed suit.
That's when it dawned upon him, his reason for existing, he was not meant to create. But to destroy. He was Yamat, god of tragedy, he tested his powers again and again, he was able to cause the most terrible tragedies, causing loved ones to fall ill, father to turn against son, and even entire populations to suffer famine. This was his calling, but yet, he still loved the Reshut and the Kre’Nasha, his creations, and so, he vowed never to do them as great harms as he would wreck upon the other forces of life, for he sensed their creative powers far beyond the isles he lived in, he vowed to find them, find these other gods, his work had begun, he had a play of tragedies to create.
THE SAD BOI IS HERE, Yamat is created, ripping himself free from the life blood and falling upon the Kylsar isles, after fixing his form a bit and looking about the isles, he endures the first instances of tragedy, eventually coming upon the Kre’Nasha which he created when he was within the lifeblood, upon causing more tragedies Yamat wishes to attempt to create a race, the Reshut, who take to wearing masks much like him, but even his creations are not free of the tragedy he causes, and the brother of the first Reshut ends up killing them by pushing them off a cliff, with this Yamat comes to realize his calling as God of Tragedy and vows to bring it to the other gods and their creations.
2mp=creation of the Reshut, mysterious beings who hide themselves behind masks, more to come of them soon
The lifeblood stirred and puslated, work was needed, more and more and more work, it never ended. It came upon the isle with those strange floating sheep, the south was barren, that needed to change.
The lifeblood felt itself wobble and stirred with power once more, it spread a wide open plain over the southern portions, but this time it raised with it giant metal and stone pillars that crackled with energy, at times shooting bolts of lightning at one another in loud thunderous cracks. It then caused the southern regions to be filled with constant storms, pouring down rain and lightning upon the plains below, though the giant pillars would serve as guides for the lightning, drawing it to them and when struck, crackling with intense energy which would then be distributed across to other pillars. The lifeblood then populated the region with creatures suited for this strange land: prong horned antelopes adapted to eat the electrified grass, lizards able to discharge small amounts of electricity to paralyze their prey, and birds that ride and migrate with the storms, heradling their arrival.
With the plains finished the Lifeblood returned to its far eastern creation: the Kylsar Isles. They still remained barren of animals, this needed to be fixed. First came the creatures created by the Deep-One of those mighty blue oceans, fish swam through the waterways, becoming different than their deep oceaned brethren, elongating and adapting to the different types of waters. Next came the drakes, becoming a dark green like the swamps surrounding them so they may better blend in, their fins fused together and they gained elongated tails to better traverse the shallower swamp waterways. The birds it had created before were next, they gained elongated legs and beaks fitted to hunt for the fish of the waterways, though they were also useful food for the Drakes, some gained increased wingspan, sharp beaks filled with serrated teeth inside, and dangerous claws, they became predators to anything that dared walk the land. Then there were mammals, rodents of nearly every type were put upon the isles, many of great size, easily that of a dog, then came the amphibians, frogs, toads, newts, they all inhabited every corner of the water filled forests.
Something was missing though, something extraordinary, the lifeblood felt another tug, that aggressive tug once more, clawing its way forward, it wanted to create something far more dangerous. It gathered the slick muck from the swampish forests and began to twist and shape it, it became an iridescent purple with golden streams pulsating and warping throughout the now goo-like flesh. The life blood then gathered stone and gave the still formless goo a shape, forming hardened plates and a bleached white mask that could shift and change with the creature, then it gave it thought, basic thought, but thought nonetheless. The new creatures wobbled and shifted, forming four stumpy gooish legs with stone tipped claws and thick spiked tendrils from its back, its mask became wider with stone tusks filled with the purple flesh. It shook itself, and looked at the environment around it, in a rapid instant it lashed out one of its tendrils and speared a fish from a nearby waterway, bringing it into the goo flesh to consume it. This, this was perfect. The life blood created several more, enough to begin to sustain themselves, for the new creatures reproduced asexually, each one seemed to take different shapes and forms, with many even changing and shifting when their needs changed, they were perfect for these isles, the apex of apexes.
With the creatures finished the Lifeblood moved one once more, content in its creation, as that same claw tugging occurred once more.
The lifeblood first creates the Storm Plains, name pending, to the south of the gravity sheep plains, these plains are filled with storms and giant metal pillars that attract and discharge lightning, several species were created naturally adapted to the land. Next the life blood turns once more to the Kylsar Isles, this time it fills the swamp forests full of creatures, fish, reptiles, rodents, birds, the like, but it feels like something is missing. It is then when the Lifeblood creates the Kre’Nasha, creatures made of a goo like flesh with hardened stone plates and masks that can shift and change their form at will, with the plates and mask also being able to be changed, the lifeblood content then moves on, leaving the isles to their lonesome.
0MP=Create the storm plains and their ecosystem 0mp=Fill the Kylsar isles with creatures 1mp=Create the Kre’Nasha, able to shift and change their shape at will and reproduce asexually
The lifeblood pulsed once more, more needed to be done, more needed to be created. It gazed upon the twizted fields it had created, then looked east of the great Stone-one’s creation, a vast empty pool of the Deep-One lay beyond, waiting for something, something, smaller this time.
Learning from the Stone-one’s great pulling upon the earth, the Lifeblood tried to achieve a similar goal though in a more small and refined way. It tugged upon the rocks and dirt and pulled them upwards, forming a mass of barren earth and soil, a land ripe to create more and more. Then, in an instant, it shattered the mass, allowing portions to haphazardly fall back into the ocean, forming small isles and thin chains of barren dirt. The world shook as the isles formed and collected, and the Lifeblood once more felt a tug, this time, it was more aggressive, almost clawing for freedom, the lifeblood merely pushed it aside. The isles were new, and they needed work.
The lifeblood pulsed and warped, something needed to be put down upon these barren isles, it looked westward, at the Great-Tree and the work of the Moon-Child, then back to its previous work, something different would be done. The shattered lands filled with streams of water from the surrounding oceans that flowed along deepening causeways twisting throughout the formerly barren regions, twisted and mangled trees that stretched high into the sky to block out the sun grew across the dirt and soil, nourished by the now deep black water, bushes full of thorns and pointed grass grew on the shores, the air was heavy and almost fog like. In essence, it was as water filled as a mire or swamp, but as filled with trees and foliage as a forest, life would become strange within this equally strange land, but the lifeblood did not concern itself with this.
Next it turned towards the northwest, to the land it had filled before, mountains and pointed trees, it felt a desire to change it. With the imposing of its will once more, the hills and mountains grew dense with foliage, large needled trees and bountiful shrubs and herbs, by the end the mountains were covered. The rest of the region though, would become something far different, the foliage became sparser and smaller in many areas, the soil became loose and more scattered, pushed and pulled by the frigid winds of the region. What began as a possible forest of life became a scattered wasteland with the bountiful mountains sitting within its center, one last thing was needed to be done by the Lifeblood, for reasons it didn't quite understand, deep within the scattered frigid lands, it constructed a strange structure, two curved pointed rocks facing one another, nearly touching but not quite, once more a tug was felt, but it pushed it aside once more. Its work was done here for now.
The lifeblood makes some islands and fills them with some weird Swamp forests, it then returns to its original starting point and pretty much flips the mountains and forests in regards to foliage and life, lastly it crafts a strange rock structure, with two curved rocks facing towards one another
Domain: Tragedy The death of a lover to an incurable disease, young men dying within a war, collapse of nations and cities, a man killing his own brother by sheer accident, tragedy, pure, and, simple. Tragedy is all that causes pain, suffering, or despair, but it is not mindless, tragedy is controlled, pinpointed, pain, Tragedy is not a natural disaster, but instead Tragedy is a young man falling in love, engaging in a duel for their hand in marriage, killing the duelist and going to jail, only to leave and find out their love has already moved past them. Tragedy is slow and plays out over a long period, it may include only one being or extend throughout an entire nation or continent, it lingers in those who have suffered it for years, death does not have to be a part of it, but it is a common effect.
Portfolio: Misfortune Yamat’s best weapon is that of Misfortune, which is far beyond that of just “bad luck”, misfortune can be the revealing of secret document to an enemy spy, a drought just as farming season begins, a blade sliding too far and killing one someone is dueling, the death of a child in birth, an arrow landing just right...to kill you, these are all misfortune. Misfortune is often used by Yamat to ensure his tragedies play out as they should, though rarely to begin them.
Their Realm: The Endless Wastes Yamat’s domain is an empty plain that stretches on for endless miles into the horizon, the dirt is loose and grey with dead plants and bleached bones jutting through, a black massive sun sits high in the sky and radiates horrendous heat upon the surface eternally, never sinking below the surface. Dotting the surface of the wastes stand broken ruins of past tragedies, a new one forming for each of its counterparts upon Galbar, to observe these ruins is to look upon endless sorrow and pain, to search them is to invite it into your own mind…it is always best to stay clear of the ruins. One can not find Yamat in their realm, one must instead merely sit, and linger, let their sorrow and pain overwhelm them, then they shall arrive, and bring one to a far more shaded area, a massive canopy built of rotten wood and broken stone, cobbled together haphazardly, underneath sits two chairs and a table, similarly built like the canopy above.
Persona: Yamat is silent, Yamat is calculating, Yamat is cold and emotionless. The Tragedy they rules over is not something Yamat enjoys, but they do not abhor it either, to them, it is part of life and must be respected, one cannot have the good in life without knowing what pain feels like. Yamat rarely speaks, they instead are far more willing to sit and watch, ensuring tragedy comes as needed and when that tragedy does come, they takes its effects in, watching the reaction of each individual touched by despair and pain with intent, even when the original event is over they checks up on those they have touched, to see how they are doing, not out of empathy, but out of pure, cold, calculation. The only time they are concerned about other gods is when they can aid in the Tragedy and torment they create, those who don’t, can’t, or won’t are little concern to them, those who try to stop them must be pushed aside, their work must continue.
Base Form: Yamat’s base form is that of a 8 foot tall, pure black, spindly humanoid. The face is covered with a golden faceless mask with a singular eye hole on the left(Yamat) side that shows a large eye of pure white light, behind the head hovers a golden halo. The torso is thin and one can see the outlines of ribs and bones underneath the black skin of Yamat, their arms are similarly thin and their fingers are almost like claws. Yamat’s legs are hidden underneath a long golden skirt that drags upon the floor. Anywhere Yamat’s skin is visible, there exist golden runes and sigils seemingly carved into their skin, they never remain in the same place and can even change when one looks away and back.
Domain Form: Yamat’s domain form is that of an emancipated humanoid, their skin an ashy grey clinging tightly to their bones, their eyes are gone and covered in a golden cloth with their head being covered by a golden hood. Golden robes cover most of the body, but a large hole in the back exposes cuts and lashes and large arrows stick out in the area. Despite being gone their eye sockets continuously cry, with a constant stream appearing from the golden cloth, their feet are covered in golden cloth as well.
Avatar: Mathius Mathius is much like a puppet, silent, mindless, and controlled by the strings of their owner, used by Yamat to ensure his tragedies work in the beautiful manner they’re supposed to. Mathius is a humanoid figure, their skin never shows, instead being covered by various clothing. Their face is covered by strips of golden cloth and a black hood, their torso and legs by a long black robe with golden cloth strips wrapped around their arms and legs. Much like their god, Mathius rarely speaks, and even when they do it is a haggard, breathy voice barely above a whisper that sounds almost painful to them, as such they do it rarely and only when they are absolutely required to speak out loud, instead preferring to speak via the mind, though their voice continues to be haggard and breathy, though far less painful. Mathius has very little autonomy, their body and mind are fully controlled by Yamat, being used as mostly as a herald for the tragedy the god is so known for, with the sight of Mathius often meaning that the works of Yamat will be following soon after. The words Mathius speak are often the words of Yamat, sometimes though Mathius gains some semblance of autonomy, mostly when Yamat is more concerned on the creation of some new tale of his instead of acting them out, during this time Mathius tends to wander aimlessly, causing smaller and chaotic events of tragedy and misfortune, though these times rarely last for long, with Yamat often calling Mathius back to his control once more.
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