But it was still much too slow for Excelsis, who was overseeing the burgeoning village from atop the so-called “Monster”. It was not developing fast enough. At this rate, it would take three, maybe even four generations until they would be a useful people. A more hands-on approach would be necessary. For now, at least. Which meant he would need a point of return. A place worthy of the vainglorious God of Eminence. Where he could always return to, or where he could work upon complex blessings. It would be a place where the common people could come and marvel at the greatness of the Spark and the countless other blessings he intended to offer to the worthy. It would take time, even for a God’s mind, to fully design such a place.
From the great volcano's mouth came a cracking sound, and the stone covering it gave way to a large stone figure. The figure, Khthon, stood in solemn silence for a few long moments before speaking.
”God-Brother. I do not come to you lightly,” he said, tone grim. ”I come to you seeking aid, for a great threat is upon us Gods and Ashuru Herself. A threat I do not know for sure if we can overcome.”
In an instant, a million different senses rippled over Excelsis’ body. These were not the words you wanted to hear from a god like Khthon. Especially not when he willingly rose to the surface of the world. ”What threat?” asked Excelsis. ”How much time do we have?”
”I do not know how much time we have. I fear it is not nearly enough.” He took a moment to brace himself. ”There is… something that slumbers within Ashuru. Something old. Older than us, older than the world.”
”She slumbers, and should have still for eons to come. But she wakes. Too soon, far too soon…” He gestured to the world, to the mortals below, to the Monster. ”We have been careless. Fools! With our meddling, we have engineered our own undoing!”
He reached out to Excelsis’ mind, showing the memories he had glimpsed from the Great Bell, and the dire warning inscribed upon it. ”I can feel her in my caverns. Stirring, breathing. She. Must. Not. Wake.”
”But I do not know what she is…” he finished with a whisper.
This revelation answered two questions and created a hundredfold more. His mind went over the visions given by Khthon and extracted every bit of information out of them. ”It is not yet too late.” He said, though he made it sound more like some grand declaration. ”What do you think we must do?” The God-Orb asked, despite brimming with his own answers to that question. The Lord of Stone, at the moment, was the most eminent authority on matters of Ashuru.
”Sleep. She must sleep once more, at any cost.” Khthon felt frazzled, had been so since his discovery. He tried to center himself, not let panic or despair overtake him, once more, and continued. ”You are Discovery. You above all else would be able to find out her nature. Please,” he begged, for the first time in his existence, ”you must do so.”
Was this it?
Since his spawning Excelsis believed he was meant to become the greatest of all the gods after a harrowing trial, akin to the catalyzing Challenge he subjects his mortal chosen to. Was this his Challenge? His trial?
”It is then, perhaps, no coincidence that I wandered the Unshaped Lands for so long, and that I was called back at this fateful moment.” The God-Orb said. ”I solemnly accept this charge. I will uncover the nature of She-Who-Sleeps and how to extend her slumber.” He declared proudly, as his mind already split from the design of his home to create a vessel worthy of uncovering The Sleeper.
”But then I must charge you, Lord of Stone, with an equal duty. The roots of this world once held her. They are the obvious answer to this. Regrow them. They are in your domain. I am certain it is within your capacities.” Excelsis said.
Khthon stayed silent for a moment, searching for the right words. ”...Though they may rest in my realm, the roots… they are not of me. Never have been. They are not Stone or Earth, but Thoughts made solid.” He paused once more. ”I will do what I can. I will protect them as I have so far. Should your people find something, anything from the dead shard you have traded, I will use that knowledge however I can.”
”But I cannot guarantee results.” It stung to have to admit it, but it was necessary. Despite all their powers as Gods, they were not truly omnipotent.
He could do other things, though. He already had, by creating the Sabulon to scour the world for him. And he was doing more right now, by asking for help. ”I will seek more of our God-Siblings for help. Though I know few, I know some who should be willing to help… and should any govern Sleep, I shall find them as well.”
The God-Orb, at best it could, nodded. ”You are good and wise to bring these matters to the surface, my kin.” Excelsis said. ”Attend to the others now. I shall prepare for my journey now.” With those words divine power was unleashed.
Far away, in the Unshaped Lands, an ever-shifting mountain vanished. The ground it once claimed hardened as the influences of Khthon could finally claim the land. The grey, shimmering mountain appeared floating over the monster. It eclipsed the sun for a moment. Then it crumbled. Streams of raw material that could be shaped by the gods like mortals shape clay flowed from the Unshaped Mountain into a structure atop the Monster.
It was a structure of marble, gold, and silver. Its lower ranks were shaped like a museum that was barely filled. Beautiful busts of the world’s greatest minds that have perished were shown here, with a plaque explaining who they were. Others, like Aristel, had an entire room dedicated to their discovery of Magicks. The mortal would be honored in these halls.
In the middle section of the Spire were workshops and laboratories. Crystalline flasks and great telescoping lenses were focused on nothing yet, but could be manned to uncover the great mysteries of the world further. At the core of the section was the library, ready to receive tablets of clay, leather scrolls, and stacks of paper to eternalize any discovery worthy to be remembered.
At the top section of the Spire, the structure became vastly less hospitable to mortality. The workshops and laboratories here were eldritch and strange. Fit for a god but lethal to mortals. They, too, were empty of subjects. At the core of it was a large empty hall where Excelsis’ vessel of discovery would be housed.
Khthon looked upon the great temple of Discovery, and knew he had chosen the right God for the task. ”I give you permission to freely roam my realm,” he announces slowly, as if every word had great weight, ”for as long as your mission necessitates it. Our previous agreement still stands, of course.”
He hummed slightly, a sound like roiling sands. ”And do endeavour not to damage my dwellings if possible, when down there. I would prefer not to have to deal with too much of a mess…”
With those last few words, the Earth God was swallowed by the volcanic rock once more, preparing to search for more of his God-Siblings.
Excelsis is overlooking Excelsium and is displeased. He comes to the conclusion that he needs a base of operations and begins to design one in his mind.
Khthon appears with great urgency. He gives Excelsis the rundown of what he learned about the bell, the roots and She-Who-Sleeps. Excelsis asks what he should do and is given the task to uncover the nature of this entity. He accepts the charge, as he reflects upon it being the Challenge his Spark gives to mortals. He then also tells Khthon that he should try and find a way to restore the roots. Khthon cannot promise anything, but the two agree that something has to be done. Khthon will also continue to warn the other god-kin. The two part amicably as Excelsis creates the Spire from an Unshaped Mountain ontop of the Monster.
Conviction - Excelsis - 3 Conviction - Create Divine Structure - Reality-defying / Surreal The Spire is a grand temple to greatness and discovery. The lowest levels are museums where Spark-Gifted who overcame their Challenges are automatically shown when they die, eternalizing their legacy. The middle sections are dedicated to scientific discovery and exploration. With laboratories and workshops that automatically provide tools to aid in the scientific discoveries. Finally, the top section is hostile to mortality. It contains eldritch workshops where Excelsis will work his blessings. There is also a massive empty hall that is to act as “dock” for an exploration vessel in the future to be made.
The unshaped lands had held Excelsis like a captive for a while now. He could fly over every forest and discover something new. The trees shimmered from young saplings to ancient colossi. The mountains could be jagged, young peaks or rounded, aged hills. In one place, you could discover a thousand new things and never move. Excelsis had taken his leave here, where the defining influence of his kin wasn't so strong. It felt right to let the world be for a bit. Meris was looking over the chosen mortal civilization while Anakalypso was tending to the stability of the world.
The God-Orb wasn't sure what exactly changed but something had. His god-sense told him. It was time for him to return. But his travels through the Unshaped Lands did not leave him without inspiration. It was time for ever greater plans and ever greater understanding and it would start with the Shifting Trees.
~
Ahelu was hammering the copper hard. He was alone, his hut pushed outside of the village because of the incessant clinking at night. They didn't understand. Regular people couldn't understand copper as he did! The beauty of it, the potential. But in truth, neither did he. He kept hammering, forming the copper into a teardrop shape. A rough ruby was sitting on the bench next to him. A generous gift from Khton, who had a tiny shrine in Ahelu's hut.
The old man was frustrated. He stagnated these last few years. He felt stuck. The material he worked with had no challenge anymore. There was a rush of wind for a moment. Ahelu ignored it. Whatever caused it, it couldn't be more important than this. Because this, the piece of jewelry he was working on, was the key. His muse and drive would return if he finished it. He kept hammering, and kept hammering and kept going. Every little mistake he made, he corrected. But with every correction, he saw a new imperfection. He kept hammering, frustrated now. The harmony of the piece was crumbling fast. Until all sense of shape and beauty was gone from the pieces in the eyes of its creator.
The craftsman threw the piece of copper and his hammer away in raw frustration. It failed! It failed again! Then a polite knock echoed from the door. "What!?" Ahelu snapped as he opened the door, assuming it must have been some distant neighbors complaining about the noise again.
Instead, a strange cloaked and hooded figure stood before his door. Despite the guise, Ahelu immediately knew what this man was. "What do you want?" He sneered.
"A piece of art, worthy of a god." Excelsis said as he stepped inside. "And to give you a final chance."
"A chance for what?" Ahelu asked.
"To feel like you are actually the greatest artisan of your generation." Excelsis said as he waved his hand over the workbench. Amongst the ruby there were other pieces now too. Polished elephant tusks and yellow-orange gems.
They drew Ahelu's attention immediately. That's what he needed, something new! Something else! He rushed over, picked one up, and held it before his small forge. These yellow gems were translucent but not perfect. Something was captured within them. "What is this?" Asked Ahelu.
"Amber. Fossilized sap from a tree. The world is yet too young to have any naturally." Explained Excelsis.
Ahelu turned to look at him. "You mean... these pieces..."
"Are the only ones in existence." Said Excelsis with a challenging smile.
It took days and nights of work. The ivory was carefully chipped and polished into shape. Ahelu didn't eat or drink. He completely forgot to maintain himself. It didn't matter. The piece was to be his masterwork, or he might as well walk into the desert and let it take him. He worked ceaselessly to polish the amber, making sure not to remove too much material from such a precious resource. Now he could see it well. In one bit of amber, tiny leaves were locked. The leaves shimmer a bit, like they were aging backwards and then forwards again. It took Ahelu three days to notice that.
After nearly five days of work Ahelu collapsed right after he set the last bit of amber in the circlet of ivory reinforced by copper. Excelsis knelt beside him. "You have my thanks, master. No god could craft what you have made here. You will be immortalized. I know you feel it. Your Spark. When you die, it will remain and for ages you will have students." He said as he rose again and picked up the circlet. He left Ahelu on the floor for fate to decide what is to happen to him.
~
Anakalypso left the circlet wrapped in large leaves deep within the underground ravine for the Lord of Stone to find. She herself was hauling a large chunk of deadened, broken root upwards. It would take some effort to get it where the Lord of Eminence wanted it. All along the way, she hoped that Khton would accept the trade.
Excelsis is a little lost in the Unshaped Lands. He likes constantly discovering new things but something he can verbalize calls him back.
He finds an artisan of copper jewelry with an unignited Spark. The man is old and frustrated. Excelsis charges him to make jewelry out of copper, ivory, and amber. The latter being a substance that logically couldn't exist yet in the world. It was a one-of-a-kind substance. The craftsman works tirelessly on the piece until he collapses when it finishes. Excelsis gives him the joyous news that he'll be immortalized and then leaves.
Anakalypso left the circlet of copper, ivory, and amber wrapped in protective leaves, where once there was a large piece of broken off root. She is hauling the broken crystal root upwards and hopes the circlet will be enough for the trade. Conviction: - 2 Conviction - Hazy Terraforming - Turning parts of an Unshaped Tree into amber, ossified sap of a tree that takes normally millions of years to form (-1 conviction regularly, -1 conviction tax)
Today was no different. Men with primitive tools were tilling the soil so it was ready to receive the seeds. The hill in the background was getting more and more covered by peculiar, wooden buildings. The earthquake-resistant techniques were maintained by the demanding foresight of Pira, First Citizen of Excelsium. Back in the fields, further away, a hulking creature of wood marched. Ropes were strapped to its back, dragging shallow rakes through the soil. It was surrounded by eager mages examining their own work.
The river crossing passed without incident. The water was steady, the current mild enough that even the heaviest packs made it across with no issue. Once on the far bank, the caravan reformed quickly, shaking out cloaks, tightening straps and resuming their northward path as if the river had been nothing more than a pause in conversation. Luck held, for now.
Beyond the river, the land opened into wider plains. Grass rolled gently with the wind, broken only by patches of worked earth and faint tracks pressed into the soil by repeated passage. This was not wilderness anymore, not quite. The signs were subtle at first, trampled paths, straightened ground, a way to the land that nature did not choose on its own. The caravan slowed, eyes lifting toward the horizon.
Shapes emerged in the distance. People, dozens of them, scattered across the fields. Men and women bent to the soil with crude tools, moving in rhythm. Farther back, a hill rose, its slope increasingly crowded with wooden structures stacked and braced in careful ways, unmistakably deliberate. Even from this distance, the settlement felt busy, alive, expanding.
Game Master Eht’Redart raised a hand and the group eased into a tighter formation. “Eyes open,” they called quietly, not alarmed but alert. “No trouble expected, but we don’t assume kindness.” Their gaze lingered on a massive figure of wood moving through the far fields, ropes trailing behind it as it dragged rakes through the soil, people clustered nearby like parents admiring a dangerous child. Civilization, clearly.
A child saw the strangers first. Excelsium had a few families living further away who often visited the village. They did not look like them. Her eyes locked onto the strange, gleaming circle on their foreheads. The girl screamed and ran over to her mother. Her father came out wielding a stone hoe. Other men gathered from the fields. A young boy was already running for the hilltop village. Everyone was keeping their distance, until one man stepped forward.
“Hail stranger.” One older man said. “You’re not from these parts, are you?”
Eht’Redart lifted one hand and the caravan halted as one. She stepped forward alone, unarmed, her pace calm. When she reached a respectful distance from the old man, she bowed her head gently. A smile settled on her face, warm and practiced.
“You would be correct,” she said lightly, her voice carrying. “If we were from these parts, I imagine I’d recognize the soil on my feet and it’s clearly offended by my presence.” She glanced down briefly, then back up at the man, amusement flickering in her eyes. “We come from the south, from Gamblerdise, ever kept safe under the watchful eye of our great God protector.”
She straightened, hands open at her sides. “We’re traders, not scouts and certainly not dangerous,” Eht’Redart continued, tone easy. “Food, some crafted goods, a bit of curious stone and conversation, if it’s welcome.” Her gaze swept the gathered faces, then returned to the older man. “So I’ll ask plainly, before chance decides for us, do you allow strangers into your village or would you prefer we admire your fields from a distance and move on?”
“It’s not for me to say but…” The old man looked back at the group of people behind him. More were coming from the village. “There is common hospitality here for strangers.” He said with a smile. “Come! Come.” He said as he motioned them to come closer. The crowd, at first on edge, was now quickly dissipating again. Families from far away had come to Excelsium before. Many of them took the bread and joined. Once the possibility of danger was gone, they all returned to work.
The old man, Zhegrim, guided the new ‘traders’ closer towards the hill. Near the foot of it was a small clearing filled with simple benches. “Sit, please. Pira, our leader, will appear soon.” Said Zhegrim, he returned to the field. His word was true. Barely a few minutes later, a procession came from the village with an old yet fiery lady at the front.
Eht’Redart inclined her head to Zhegrim, the smile never leaving her face. “Hospitality is a language we speak well,” she replied, then turned just enough to lift two fingers. The caravan moved at once, silence only broken by jokes made between the other members, following her toward the hill. When they reached the clearing, she waited until benches were taken before kneeling to loosen the straps of her pack, setting it carefully on the ground. One by one, the others did the same, food sacks, Fortunie and packs of jewellery laid out openly, nothing hidden, nothing clutched.
“You must be the strangers. I am Pira.” The old woman greeted Eht’Redart with grandmotherly warmth. A few older children moved from behind her, bearing crude vessels of water and cups. Pira herself took the first cup poured and drank from it. “In all my life I have never seen anyone the likes of you.” She croaked a little. “Tell me, where are you from?”
She rose as the procession approached, giving Pira a respectful bow, slower this time, acknowledging age and authority both. “Gamblerdise,” Eht’Redart said when asked, her voice calm and steady. “A valley south of here, tucked away enough that most people only find it when chance decides they should.” She gestured vaguely, not toward any path but toward an idea of direction. “We only started trading as we've found ourselves have surplus of crafted goods.”
As cups were passed and the others settled, murmurs turning into laughter, Eht’Redart accepted the water but did not drink yet. “You asked where we are from and there will be more questions, I imagine,” she said, eyes bright. “In Gamblerdise, we find it faster and more honest, to answer such things with a game. Fewer speeches, less posturing, better truths. If you’re willing, Pira, I would rather play than lecture.”
Around them, the rest of the caravan began to occupy themselves. Dice appeared in hands, bits of bone and wood laid out on the ground. Quiet contests formed without announcement, counting games, chance throws, pattern guessing. Nothing loud or aggressive, just motion and focus while they waited. Eht’Redart glanced back at them once, satisfied, then returned her attention fully to Pira. “One simple game,” she added lightly. “You ask. I answer. Then my turn.”
“I haven’t played many games since I was a little girl.” Pira let out a little giggle. Her attendants looked a bit confused. Excelsis did not explicitly frown upon games, but the implicit waste of time was not looked upon favorably. “You will find Excelsium, this place, to be a place of posturing. It's not unearned, I would add. Anyway, I have asked and gotten my answer. I believe the rules make it your turn now.” She said with a gentle smile. The attendants around her remained ready to offer fruits and water. Eyes wandered over the baubles and jewelry gleaming in the open. Yet no one moved. More eyes than theirs were watching the scene.
“…You haven’t played many games?” one of the group echoed, as if the words needed to be tested aloud. There was no accusation in the tone, just disbelief. Another one let out a short, surprised laugh before catching themselves, hand rising to their mouth. “I mean, not many is one thing, but…” They trailed off, glancing around as if the rest of the group might supply a missing explanation.
“That’s…impressive,” someone else said after a beat, uncertain whether it was meant as praise. “Or tragic. I can’t quite decide.” A bench creaked as its occupant leaned back, studying Pira with renewed interest. “You’re telling me not cards, not dice, not even some idle nonsense?” The question was softer than it sounded, edged with genuine curiosity rather than judgment.
A low murmur followed, quiet exchanges overlapping. “How do you pass the time?” “What do you wager on, then?” “No games at all, not even forbidden ones?” The last earned a few crooked smiles. Even those used to restraint seemed unsettled, like discovering a shared childhood story that one person had somehow skipped entirely.
In contrast the young attendants of Excelsium looked nervously at each other but didn’t speak. They didn’t have to. For those lacking the sacred spark, a life of discipline was implicit. Pira, for her part did let out an almost childish giggle at the idea of forbidden ones. The young ones could deny all they wanted but she knew that sometimes they were played.
Eht’Redart coughed once, sharp and deliberate and the murmuring died instantly. “Alright, that’s enough chatter and staring,” she said, waving a hand.
“Listen, games make everything better. Work, rest, arguments, life. In Gamblerdise, chance isn’t a flaw, it’s the point.” She leaned forward, voice warming as she spoke. “Jobs are drawn, not assigned. Daily tasks, decided by roll or spin. We play for who cooks, who cleans, who forages, who follows. Disputes are settled with rules instead of grudges. And yes,” she added with a grin, “we play every day. If you don’t, the day feels unfinished.” She reached out, took one of the cups from Pira's attendants, and drank it in one smooth motion. Then she grabbed from her pack, a waterskin filled with a sugary, alcoholic in nature substance, filled the cup she had and offered it to Pira “Come on,” Eht’Redart said lightly, “it’s easier to understand games after a drink.”
There was a silent horror that rippled through the attendants, through Pira and then through the other people that had gathered. Whispers spread fast. The idea of constantly switching jobs was anathema to expertise. How could a farmer know his field well, if tomorrow he could be a shepherd? No, Excelsium had no time for such frivolity. Even with the excess of food.
As soon as Pira would take the cup, the question came. "Do you serve a God or have you been abandoned by your creator? We ask to know who we give thanks for the hospitality."
“We worship all the gods. All the gods known to us at least. Like Khton, the lord of the stony depths. But the one god who blessed us all is Excelsis, the Lord-Eminence.” Pira explained. Afterwards she took a slight sip of the cup and fought to keep it down. She took a second to look at the cup. “Did you give me the… grog?” She asked, hoping she’d get the half-pleasant buzz instead of the illness. Grog was another thing Excelsium didn’t favor. It took too much, many of the thinkers and great fighters of the village thought. Of course, some people still consumed it. Pira hoped to never have to drink it again after she got a particularly potent sickness of the stomach from it.
Eht’Redart burst into laughter at the question and shook her head as if to chase away the very idea. “No, no, not the grog,” she said, still smiling. “Alechior’s grog isn’t for everyone. Honestly, it’s barely for anyone.” She lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “I love it, of course, but I also enjoy poor decisions and strong outcomes. That one,” she nodded at Pira’s cup, “is the polite version.”
“It’s just alcohol, really,” Eht’Redart continued, tapping the rim of the cup with one finger. “Fermented, softened with fruit so it doesn’t bite back quite as hard. Sweet enough to trick you, strong enough to remind you why you shouldn’t rush it.” Her grin widened. “Grog doesn’t trick you. It announces itself and dares your stomach to argue.”
She inclined her head respectfully as Pira spoke of the gods. “We know Khton,” Eht’Redart said evenly. “The stony depths don’t forget their due. Every seven suns, we pay tribute. Not because we fear him, but because he’s honest. Stone takes, stone gives. That’s a kind of fairness we respect.” A few of the caravan folk nodded along, as if this were routine rather than revelation.
“As for Excelsis,” Eht’Redart went on, her tone turning curious, “that name is new to us. Lord-Eminence...we don’t know of her.” She gestured toward Pira and the village beyond. “If there’s a representative, a voice, a hand that speaks for Excelsis here, we would like to meet them. It’s only polite to greet the one who blesses a place, especially when you’re sitting on their land and drinking their water.”
“There is… a piece of him around here, named Meris.” Pira said carefully. “But he has a rule. Mortal matters demand mortal attentions. He will not want to meet with you. I do hope you will not take it as an insult.” Pira said as she took the tiniest sip of the alcohol. “The water and land here are not his. What you are drinking is of us, Excelsium, the people.”
“In the age of calamity, he guided us here, taught us how to tend the lend and build in such a way that a quake will not destroy it. He promised to silence the volcano and-” She raised a hand and motioned towards the Monster in the background. “It has been quiet ever since. He also blessed a few worthy among us with genius. In return he asks that we prepare ourselves for our divine destiny.” Pira knew she was polterizing but something inside of her compelled her to do it. In Excelsium, all gods were worshipped but Excelsis was elevated above them all. As he should be. After all he did not just raise them up. He also gave them the metaphorical tools to to keep climbing themselves.
“I suppose by the rules of your game it is now my turn.” Pira said, and then pondered the question. Her eyes looked over the baubles and goods spread around. People would gather around the new strangers soon to see what was happening and some would want the shiny things. “Would you mind terribly if I unleashed the ruckus? My people will be wanting to trade for these goods of yours, and it might cause a bit of noise.”
At the mention of “a piece of him,” something shifted at the far end of the caravan. One of the traders, a woman who had remained quiet until now, lifted her head sharply. For the briefest moment, the small yellow circle on her forehead brightened, not flaring, not demanding attention, just enough to be noticed if one happened to be looking. Then it dimmed again, settling back into its usual soft glow.
“A piece of a god that prefers mortals to solve mortal problems,” she said lightly. “That sounds familiar.” She inclined her head, respectfully. “Ours does much the same. Alechior pulled Villagxor and the first of Gamblerdise out of certain death and dropped them into a valley that didn’t care much for rules. Then left them to figure out how to live with that.”
She let out a short laugh. “They gave us happiness, games and a sense that survival does not have to be grim to be earned. The rest,” she gestured vaguely behind her at the caravan and its people, “we built ourselves. Slowly. Loudly.”
When Pira spoke of noise, Eht’Redart’s amusement deepened. “Noise?” she echoed, then laughed outright. “If Gamblerdise ever went quiet, we’d assume something had gone terribly wrong.” She lifted her cup in mock solemnity. “Dice clatter, arguments, singing, groaning over bad odds, cheering over worse ones. That’s just breathing to us.”
She took another drink, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and nodded once, decisive. “So yes,” she said easily. “Unleash the ruckus. If your people want to trade, let them come. Noise means interest. Interest means life.”
Around them, the caravan shifted in response to her tone. Packs were nudged open a little wider. Shiny Fortunite charms caught the light. The traders did not push forward, they simply waited.
Eht’Redart looked back to Pira, expression open and sincere beneath the humor. “If Excelsium climbed because a god gave them tools,” she said, “then we are not so different. We just prefer our tools...a bit unstable and our steps decided by chance.”
Pira returned the sincere look. “We may be very different, but we have a lot in common indeed.” She said with a smile, then raised her arms in an almost theatrical ritual that would banish some sort of invisible barrier that kept discipline. As she held her hands high she let out a sigh and said: “Go have your fun.” And dropped her arms quickly.
Around Pira and Eht’Redart the ruckus exploded. The band of Excelians rushed around them to start talking with the traders. Many of them offered the one thing Excelsium had in massive excess: food. Carrots, cabbages, potatoes and more were offered. From the shepherd tribes that first assimilated thanks to Hector dried meat was also offered. Bigger offers were made: an invitation for a home cooked meal or the promise of a hearty stew. One thing was certain though, Excelium had no fear of strangers.
“Come, I should show you the village.” Pira said as she stood up. As First Citizen she felt it was her duty show her through the village. Despite the ruckus with the traders, there were plenty of people in and around their houses. All of them gave Pira a pleasant wave as they busied themselves. It didn’t take long for her to reach the central plaza.
“That-” Pira said while she aimed at a very open building. “Is our temple.” It was hard to even call it a building. It had barely any walls or a roof. She stepped inside and showed the many pedestals of wood. One bore the wooden carvings of a half stone-half man creature that Pira explained to be a likeness of Khton. Another looked more like a crude cloud. Yzechr, the murky guide. Then there was Orranoth, first of the Magi, shown as a man wielding lightning. “There are more gods, but these are the ones we know of.”
Fortunite wrapped in cloth, small glinting shards catching the light. Bottles of alcohol changed hands quickly, sniffed, sampled, laughed over. Fortunite jewelry seemed to get the most attention, they were not ornate, but warm to the touch.
When Pira stood and gestured for her to follow, Eht’Redart went readily. They moved through the village at an unhurried pace, the sound of trading fading into a background hum. Whenever someone waved at Pira, Eht’Redart returned it with a respectful nod, trying to match their intent.
The temple came into view quickly. Open, unfinished, honest. Eht’Redart studied the pedestals one by one. Khton, solid and grounded. Yzechr, vague and uncertain. Orranoth, lightning caught mid-declaration. She tilted her head, thoughtful. “You’re missing one,” she said gently. “Alechior isn’t here.”
Before Pira could answer, footsteps sounded behind them. Familiar ones. Soft feet, an unhurried pace Eht’Redart had seen a hundred times on the road. She turned already expecting one of the caravan, then stopped short.
The air shifted, subtle but undeniable. Not a threat, not a flare of power, just a quiet pressure that settled into the chest and refused to be ignored. Eht’Redart’s eyes widened as instinct finally caught up with sensation. The face was known. The posture was known. The presence behind it absolutely was not. She bowed low without thinking, heart skipping. “No…” she murmured. “You were with us the whole way.”
The woman looked exactly as she always had. Dusty feet wear, travel-worn clothes, the faint yellow circle on her forehead glowing brighter than before. She laughed at Eht’Redart’s tone, warmly. “I mean,” she said, “I didn’t lie. I just…didn’t explain.” She spread her arms as if this clarified everything. “Hard to enjoy a trip if everyone starts panicking and praising me...”
Eht’Redart straightened, awe and disbelief mixing on her face. The power she felt was unmistakable now, not hers, not anyone mortal’s. Alechior’s, without question. She swallowed and dipped her head again, deeper this time. Mini’A caught the motion and grinned. “Oh don’t do that too much,” she said, waving it off. “I’m not here here.” She gave Pira a playful nod. “Mini’A. avatar of Alechior,” she added. “Trader, terrible secret-keeper, occasional mistake.” Her smile sharpened with delight. “And yes. This trip? Still incredibly fun.”
A sense of worry went over Pira. “You should be more careful.” She warned immediately. “I do not know the customs of gods, but I doubt any would enjoy subterfuge. If Miras were to know that you entered through obfuscation…” Pira let the sentence dangle like a noose. Mortal matters demand mortal attentions. Divine matters demand divine ones.
Mira’A tilted her head, considering Pira’s warning with an expression that was far too relaxed for the implication. “If I wished to be hidden,” she said calmly, “I would have stayed that way.” She gestured lightly around the temple, the pedestals, the sky above. “I walked in here on my own feet. No masks, no tricks. You said it yourself, divine matters demand divine hands. This,” she added with a small smile, “counts.”
Then she laughed, as if the thought truly amused her. “And if that still isn’t reassuring enough,” she went on, tone playful, “then don’t worry.” She tapped her chest once with a thumb. “Daddy dearest would step in long before anything unpleasant happened.” Her grin widened. “They’re very protective. Pretends they aren’t, but they absolutely are.”
“Do you think they would be fast enough?” A voice that wasn’t quite human asked from behind her. There stood the large figure of Meris. He did not look particularly pleased with Mini’A. “You have three sentences to convince me you will not be the source of pain and trouble in this land.”
Mini’A’s grin widened the moment the voice reached her, delighted in a way that had nothing to do with nerves. She turned slowly, eyes already alight with recognition of godly power and offered Meris an exaggerated, theatrical bow. “Oh, there you are,” she said cheerfully. “I was wondering when Excelsis would send someone tall and ominous to loom properly.” She straightened and tilted her head. “For the record, Daddy Dearest does not need to be fast when it comes to other avatars. Only with Excelsis herself. Different leagues, different rules.”
She clasped her hands behind her back, rocking on her heels as if this were a pleasant social visit rather than a divine inspection. “Neither Alechior nor I are your villains,” Mini’A continued, her tone light but no longer careless. “We protect what is ours. Gamblerdise exists because we pulled people out of certain death and gave them a place where chance is kinder than fate ever was. Refugees arrive there almost every other day. Starving, hunted, broken. They are fed, sheltered, taught and allowed to stay if they wish. No chains. No oaths forced down their throats.”
Her smile softened, just a little, enough to let the weight of her words settle. “There is pain in this land, that's true, but it is not coming from us,” Mini’A said, meeting Meris’s gaze. “We clean up what the world discards. We keep people alive long enough to laugh again. If that is trouble, then it is the gentlest kind you will ever encounter.”
Meris’ judgement did not come fast. His eyes locked onto Pira. “They’re a frivolous sort.” To Pira, that was a terrible and harsh condemnation. Though she doubted Eht or this Mini’A would comprehend it as such. “Consort with them, but be sure the people do not… become them.” He said, before walking away.
Pira let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding in. Then she looked at Mini’A and the other pedestals around. “Well… Mini’A… We’ve never had a representative of another god here in Excelsium. Could I convince you to make a likeness of your… father for our temple?”
Mini’A tilted her head, lips curling into a grin that was far too pleased for a freshly delivered judgement. “Frivolous,” she repeated, tasting the word like a sweet. “That’s almost flattering. I was expecting reckless, heretical or irresponsible. Frivolous feels gentle, too gentle.” She glanced in the direction Meris had gone, then leaned in towards Pira, conspiratorially. “I’ll take it. My father collects titles and that one is new.”
She straightened, eyes bright with mischief. “And that bit about consorting, but not becoming us,” she added, unable to help herself. “Oh, that was my favorite. As if devotion were contagious. Stand too close and suddenly you’re rolling dice, questioning destiny and smiling at bad odds.” Mini’A chuckled softly. “Very generous of him, really. Permission to visit but not to enjoy it too much. That sounds exactly like someone who has never tried.”
Turning to Pira, Mini’A reached into her pack and withdrew something heavy with a solid motion. A single die, but very large, a mortal would struggle to hold it, caught the light. Its faces were very well cut. She held it out in one hand, respectful despite the humor still dancing in her eyes. “No need for convincing,” she said simply. “Alechior doesn’t require persuasion, only acknowledgment.”
Her smile softened, just a touch, as the die rested between them. “A likeness can be made, of course,” Mini’A continued. “Statue, symbol, story, whatever suits Excelsium’s sensibilities. But this,” she tapped the die, “this is closer to him than any carved face. Chance given form. Possibility made honest. Use this, Pira. Consider it a gift.”
The old woman’s eyes lit up. “That would do most wonderful indeed!” She said. “If you could put it on an open pedestal, then we’ll make sure it gets the acknowledgement and worship it deserves.”
Mini’A glanced at the open pedestal, then back at the die in her hands, eyebrows lifting as she grinned. “Are you sure you don’t want to put it there yourself?” she said lightly. “Wouldn’t want to drop it. Fortunite has a sense of humor about gravity.” As if to prove the point, she began to juggle the die lazily from one hand to the other, the heavy thing moving with ease. After a heartbeat, she stepped forward anyway, the joke spent and set the die squarely upon the pedestal herself.
At her side, Eht'Redart tried her best not to laugh a Mini'A's antics but couldn't help herself and a polite chuckle escaped her lips before covering it up with a cough.
Pira, for her part, let out another sigh of relief. She was not looking forward to being tested with such a large and sacred object. “Thank you. Well… I think that only leaves the Magi.” She said as she began to walk out of the temple. “I must warn you, they are a… strange lot.” Which was underselling it. Aristel’s students were a strange mixture of genius and maddened. They spoke in weird ways, either ignored you or bombarded you with questions and often made requests for the strangest of materials. If they didn’t bring great prosperity to the village, she would’ve considered exiling them all.
Mini’A waved a hand over her shoulder, already half turned, and snapped her fingers once. “Eht’Redart, off you go,” she said cheerfully. “Rejoin the caravan, make friends, you know the drill.” The Ehr'Redart hesitated only a moment before obeying, retreating toward the bustle beyond the temple. Mini’A watched her go, then glanced back at Pira with a grin. “I’ll keep touring with you. And I promise I’ll behave. Consider me one of you for now.”
At the mention of a “strange lot,” Mini’A laughed outright. “Oh, that’s my favorite kind of warning. When people say strange like that, it usually means interesting or dangerous, or both.” Her amusement grew as the Magi came into view, eyes distant, hands in the air or muttering to themselves. Mini’A stepped closer, cleared her throat theatrically, even gave a small wave. None of them noticed. One walked straight past her, another stared directly through her as if she were furniture. The grin on her face slowly twisted into something impressed.
She leaned toward Pira, lowering her voice just enough to sound genuinely curious. “Alright,” Mini’A said, tilting her head as she watched a Magus moving around absentmindedly, “what exactly are these people?” Her eyes flicked back to the group. “And more importantly, what in all the odds is a Magi?”
“As I understand it: they call upon a Patron of something through a ritual and then somehow bid it to do something for them. If the ritual is performed right, the Patron does what is asked. Like there.” Pira pointed deeper into the small field where the Magi were working. One was in the process of making a wood golem as they spoke. The ritual was just finished, but instead of the wood moving, the Magi casting the ritual shuddered for a second and then fell backwards. Stiff as a board. “Sometimes they don’t get it quite right, and that happens.” Pira said with a half-smile.
“Still, they are very important to Excelsium. You might have seen the golems working the field as you entered the village. Without them, we’d have to toil even harder for even less food.” Pira explained. The Magi weren’t paying them any attention still. Most of them didn’t even look after their paralyzed colleague. They were drawing circles in the dirt and bringing forth strange objects like a femur or animal fat. In the distance, a loud debate erupted over the use of burned, burning, or yet to be burned wood.
Mini’A went quiet for a moment, eyes tracking the fallen Magi, then the stubbornly wooden golem that refused to become anything more. “So,” she said slowly, thoughtful rather than annoying for once, “you ask a very specific something to do a very specific thing and if you phrase it wrong, you get a nap you did not agree to.” She glanced at the stiff body on the ground, then back at the circles and bones. “That sounds less like magic and more like aggressive paperwork.” A beat passed, then she smiled. “Effective, though. When it works. I’ll give it that.”
She watched another Magi smear animal fat into a rune with absolute confidence. “Can anyone learn to do this,” Mini’A asked, turning to Pira, “or is this one of those situations where the universe picks favorites and laughs at the rest of us?” Her gaze flicked back to the rituals. “Because if this can be taught, I imagine there are a lot of people who would love to trade farm aches for accidentally paralyzing themselves once a week.” She tilted her head. “And if it cannot be taught, who decides who gets to bargain with these…Patrons?”
After a moment, curiosity properly sparked, she added, “Also, you said ritual magic like it was a category.” She grinned again, sharp and eager. “Does that mean there are other kinds? Different rules, different risks, different ways to mess it all up?” Mini’A gestured vaguely at the arguing Magi. “Because if this is just one flavor, I suddenly feel like I walked into the kitchen and found out the menu is much bigger than I thought. Daddy dearest will be very…interested in this.”
“Aristel, the… discoverer of this Magicks theorized in the last few days of his life that there were other ways to channel Ideals into desired outcomes, but he did not have the time to turn his theories into practice. For now, Excelsium focuses on Magick.” Pira explained, at the best of her abilities. The Magi Arts were still very esoteric, down to almost arbitrary to her. She was told the items used in the rituals were of some significance to the called-upon Patron but she never saw the connections.
Instead of answering the questions of Mini’A further, and probably inaccurately, she called out one of the Magi she knew. “Cenna.” She said. “This is Mini’A, one of the traders. She would like to know more about Magick, it’s pushback and how it can be learned.”
The man, Cenna, looked rather bored having to speak to the women. He scoffed and said: “Anyone can learn Magicks, if you've got the time and the patience for it.” He said with a dismissive and prideful tone. “But are you willing to take the risk? See Julian over there?” He pointed at the paralyzed Magi still on the ground. “Screwed up Locomotion. Locomotion! Useless. The pushback’s not bad, as you can see. But if you think that’s the worst, think again.” Cenna showed his other hand, missing two fingers. “Patron of Fire took my heat. Damn near froze to death!”
Mini’A listened to Pira with genuine interest, her usual restless energy held in check as the explanation went on. Aristel’s unfinished theories clearly caught her attention, eyes narrowing slightly at the idea of paths not taken, of power left unexplored simply because time ran out. “That tracks,” she murmured, half to herself. “Big ideas always die with the people brave enough to think them first.” When Pira called out to the Magi, Mini’A straightened, curiosity transforming into something more pointed, like a gambler spotting a new game across the room.
She looked Cenna over as he spoke, head tilted, expression politely neutral right up until he started talking about risk. When he gestured to the paralyzed Magi and the missing fingers, she blinked once, then laughed, utterly unimpressed. “That’s your warning?” she said. “Falling over and losing a couple of fingers? I was expecting something with screaming or at least dramatic lightning.” She waved a hand vaguely. “Risk is only frightening when you think you have something to lose.”
Then her smile sharpened. “Since we’re being educational,” Mini’A continued, “I should probably clarify who you’re talking to.” She stepped a little closer, and for the briefest moment the air around her bent, like heat over stone, luck and inevitability pressing down in a way that made the ritual circles itch and the Magi’s chalk lines feel suddenly fragile. It was not overwhelming, not violent, just enough. A reminder. “I’m Mini’A,” she said calmly, “avatar of Alechior. Risk and consequence are family to me.”
The pressure vanished as quickly as it appeared and Mini’A was grinning again, as if nothing strange had happened at all. She turned back to Pira and gave her a quick, cheerful wave. “This has been lovely. Educational. Slightly concerning. I promise not to accidentally invent a new school of magic in your fields.” A beat. “Probably.” Then she pivoted back toward Cenna before Pira could respond.
“So,” Mini’A said, already walking alongside him, words tumbling out with renewed enthusiasm, “let’s start from the top. How do you even find the right Patron and how specific do you have to be? Is it like calling a name or more like vibes? And what actually decides the pushback, the Patron’s mood, your wording or just bad luck?” She glanced at his hand, then at the ritual site. “Also, can you get your heat back or is that a permanent sort of lesson?”
The Trade Caravan reaches Excelsium and Eht’Redart chats with Pira, their leader. The conversation is light and a bit confusing for the traders upon hearing that Excelsium doesn't care for games as much. When given the tour and reaching the Temple, one of the caravan members joins them and reveals that she is the avatar of Alechior and she left her duties as a guardian of Gamblerdise to join with the caravan…for FUN!
Eventually they meet Magi and Mini'A gets very curious about them.
The peak of the Monster was surprisingly more tranquil than expected. The caldera was already overgrown with greenery. Left and right, there were igneous rocks and fractured stone separating its peak from most other mountains, but nature had mostly covered up the true extent of the violence the volcano had spewed out not that long ago.
Meris was waiting at its peak. The sun had dimmed a bit and moved further away from the plane. The time of shadows dominated now. The avatar was, to his own surprise, somewhat impatient. Until finally he saw the streak of fire in the distance. It came closer and closer. Meris didn't move. He knelt.
Excelsis stopped before his avatar. The god-orb's fiery cloak burned up when he stopped. It still scorched part of the Monster's peak. "I do not often get prayers from my own being." He said. "Speak, Meris. What troubles you?"
Meris rose. "Mortality." He said. "I was charged to look after mortalkind, Excelsium in particular. I have done so for some time now. They are still meek and possess little true power as we do. But theirs is growing fast. For now."
"Their ephemeral nature is not a curse, Meris. It gives them purpose through legacy." Excelsis said as a handful of the orb's eyes looked out towards the growing village of Excelsium. "Sons need to be able to look up to their fathers, and then kill them to exceed them."
"In that I agree, but there is a problem." Meris said he looked over the village. "I saw it first with Aristel. The broken man is still teaching. He'll teach till he drops dead. It won't be enough. Weircraft is endangered. His teachings, with his death, will fade. I foresee the basics of it having faded to a myth-like status in only a handful of generations. The progress, the teachings, will be long hobbled."
"You worry too much. In a distant land, I've seen a solution already. They give certain symbols certain meanings, then etch those symbols onto tablets. It's a decent idea." Excelsis said. "The knowledge will fly over in... a handful of generations at most, I think."
Meris shook his head. "It will be too late. You charged me with ascending Excelsium to the point where it can be useful to your designs. I cannot do that if generations of knowledge will fade time and time again."
The god-orb's hundred different eyes shifted towards Meris and frowned. "How curious." Excelsis said. Meris was seemingly more concerned with the mortal's progress than Excelsis himself. Excelsium was little more than a pet project right now. An attempt to elevate mortalkind. If it failed, it would be sad but Excelsis could begin elsewhere again. The ingredients were all around. There was nothing in Excelsium that made them unique and valuable. "Have you grown to care for the mortals here?" The god-orb asked.
Meris let out a deep sigh. "Perhaps. I see their faith and zeal. It deserves... attention."
"Indeed, it does." Excelsis relents. "It is perhaps time that I foster legacy a bit more. I'll not solve the problem as a whole, Meris. This weircraft will have to be applied for the full solution. As will other bands of mortals be able to wield what I will make."
~
Aristel was asleep outside, in the little field he was using to teach geomantic shapes. Those shapes were necessary for the basis of Weircraft. He had taught a lot. All he knew, but not all that could be known. His dreams were grand, then dark, and then faded when he suddenly felt a jolt. He opened his eyes and he was not in the field anymore. He was far away, on a hilltop.
"What in the name of Ex-" Before he could invoke the name he saw the floating God-Orb and immediately dropped to his knees. "Oh mighty Excelsis! Forgive me. I had almost taken your name in vain!"
"There is nothing to forgive." Excelsis said. "Aristel of Excelsium. Your spark burns bright. The flame of your life is becoming dull. You will die soon."
"Yes, and?" The old man asked.
His disregard shocked the God-Orb for a second. "I will have to use your spark for a great blessing upon this world. It will consume the last of your life. I do not believe I am doing something wrong, so I will not apologise. Though I know that this news must be distressing to a mortal, so I say this to ease your mind. Your legacy will last very long."
"Wha-" It took the crazed man a second to register what the god was saying. He was going to die! He felt his feet leave the ground and his mind suddenly throb with a terrible migraine. The pain in his head began to spread. His eyes felt like they were burning. The god-orb was looming over him now. Golden geometric shapes formed around him. The shapes were vastly more complex and intermingled than anything he had carved into the ground. It would've been fascinating if he were not panicking like a caged beast that knew it was about to be killed.
A tablet orbiting the god-orb flashed before his burning eyes. The markings upon it glowed for a second. Then it came around again. The tablet seemed to be something else, something separate from the god-orb. "Wait!" Aristel yelled, but Excelsis did not listen. Aristel felt something else influencing him now. He gazed upon the strange symbols on the tablet every time it came around. The tablet seemed to be slowing more and more, letting Aristel read more and more. He had to read it, even if he didn't know what reading was. The symbols were pouring something onto him. It was overloading him as well, in a very different way. As the geomantic ritual of Excelsis was drawing out a fire of his mind, the tablet was pouring the waters of knowledge on his face.
He screamed and pleaded and screamed more in pain. Excelsis ignored it. Though he did not take relish from it either. He had the metaphysical flame of genius and began to follow the thin threads that led into the ground. The geomantic shapes began to solidify and then collapse. Aristel expired. From his final breath, the Engram retook its shape.
"Hello, old friend." Excelsis said to his own creation as new, blue geomantic shapes began to form. These were less balanced than the golden ones. They were more angular and sharper. They concentrated the divine power further. These shapes began to add themselves to the golden form of the engram. They fused peacefully. Once the Engram was amended, Excelsis released the Engram and returned it to the world.
With the recently expired brain of Aristel something miraculous happened. The parts that made him great: his knowledge, experience, understanding, and memories began to ossify and then crystallize. The very neurons turned into a glassy blue substance. Aristel's corpse, containing the mind crystal, was returned to Excelsium.
The old man's students panicked when they found him dead. They brought him before Meris, begging the avatar to resurrect their master. It wasn't out of love. All of his students had a desperate thirst for knowledge. Their fractured minds had become greedy for more understanding. Meris denied them, but he did sense something else. When he opened the skull of Aristel - much to the horror of the mortals watching - he retrieved the blue crystal.
"This! This is the spark made manifest!" He declared as he upheld the crystal coated in viscera. His eyes fell upon the students. Their horror was being replaced with intrigue.
Meris and Excelsis meet. Meris is worried mortals will forget things when their teachers die. Excelsis isn't worried and talks about writing, but it'll take time to come over. Meris says Excelsium doesn't have that much time, and Excelsis is inclined to agree, but only after he noticed an unexpected level of care from Meris.
The god-orb kidnaps Aristel and uses the spark-gifted mortal in a ritual to manifest the Spark's Engram given to the world. He amends it, adding the crystallization of the mind upon death. In the middle of this ritual, Aristel does notice and tries to read the Akashic Vessel.
Conviction: - In-Domain (not sure what this exactly falls under but Hazy seems fair?): Creating a ritual to bring forth the Spark's Engram - In-Domain but Impossible Enchantment: Enchant the Spark engram so that a manifested Spark's becomes a crystal upon death, containing the mortal's knowledge, experience, understanding, and memories of what made him great. The crystal can be used in multiple ways from here.
Example: Through magick, the Ideals of Memory, Thought and Sound, one could make a mental construct from the crystal that can speak about its own inventions and creations, thus allowing pupils to learn from the original creator of a certain technique.
It is important to note that the crystals do not contain the souls of the Spark-gifted, nor do the crystals possess the capacity to learn new things. Clarifying questions of the subject that the Spark-Gifted was knowledgeable of can be asked, but theorizing with new techniques is impossible.
It is also important to note that all Spark-gifted who have fully unlocked their Spark, by going through a catalytic event, will have part of their brain crystalized.
Cost: 2 conviction for the ritual (1 hazy + 1 settled world), 3 conviction for enchanting an existing object (2 surreal + 1 settled world)
"I hate you! I hate all of you!" The old man, Aristel, yelled as he threw the various objects from this bench and out of his house. Round stones, bits of bark, carved bones, all of it was thrown out the doorway as garbage. He then collapsed in a crying fit upon his workbench. He was old. So old. He had witnessed the gods make this world into what it was. When he had seen it he knew: there was more to this world than met limited, mortal perceptions.
Ever since he made it his life's duty to uncover its secrets. And since then decades had passed. He had only recently found himself in Excelsium, and he had eagerly taken to the worship of Excelsis, hoping the god of Eminence would bless his study of the world.
But no, Aristel made no headway. He worked as a farmer during the day but ever since the Great Light ignited the sky, the world of life had gone into a frenzy. Tending the fields was impossible. For now, food was manageable. So he could devote more time to studying the greater world. Except none of it yielded any results. He never could figure out the esoteric essences of the material world no matter how hard he tried. And now, in his old age, he had grown beyond desperate and finally fell into despair. Was his entire life just a farce? A mistake born from young idealism or over-imagination?
Someone knocked on his door. Aristel did not respond. Still he heard his door open. "Who in the name of all that is holy would come in here now!?" yelled the old man as he looked up from his empty bench. Before him stood Meris, the giant avatar of Excelsis. Warden of Mortality. Aristel fell to his knees immediately. It was more a response to the divine aura than anything else.
"Rise, Spark-Given. We must talk." Said Meris, his voice was graven and severe. Moments later, two chairs appeared for Meris and Aristel to sit down upon. "You have suffered many defeats, mortal." The avatar continued. "And yet Excelsis himself has deemed you fit for a... nudge."
Aristel recovered from his momentary bout of zealotry. The overwhelming aura of divinity ebbed away. He got on the chair and looked at Meris. "You sound...disapproving of this?" He said. He had noticed the slight, almost mortal inflection in the avatar's words.
"You are a failure," Meris said. "Your greatness never manifested. Your spark never even encountered a catalyst. By the laws of eminence you should be allowed to waste away." Aristel swallowed deeply. Those were hard words to hear. Luckily, Meris continued: "However, my Lord has deemed it necessary for mortality to be... accelerated. Thus, certain enlightenments are deemed necessary." Meris didn't move but Aristel's entire vision was immediately consumed by light.
Not his sight but his mind was flooded with a thousand visions. He saw himself standing in a thousand locations at once, doing weird things with his arms, speaking strange words, gazing deep into fire, gathering feathers from weird birds. None of it made sense. The visions were too much. He screamed out in pain as he felt his mind breaking. Right at the edge of what a mortal man could endure the visions stopped as suddenly as they came.
"What... did you do?" Aristel asked.
"A push. You are blessed and cursed. Your Spark is forcefully ignited. If you remain here, it will consume you with no result. The answers you require lie beyond the horizon. Wander, Aristel of Excelsium. Return when you have encountered your catalyst, and you've been victorious. Or die."
~
Those had been some harsh words coming from an avatar. Aristel remembered them clearly. Even as he was trekking over some truly strange landscapes. All around him there was white. He had tasted it, and it was foul. The whole place was covered in white, crystalline sand that smelled horrible. It was hot and exhausting here.
He wasn't exactly sure why he was wandering through the white, stinking hellscape that was these sand plains. All he knew was that his Spark yearned for something hidden within it. So he wandered. His lips were chapped and dried out. A day ago he had drunk the last bit of his fresh water. As he walked, he realized that he was feeling unusually driven. Before Meris' visit he would never have thought of bearing starvation or wilting like a plant for lack of water. Now... somehow... some vague promise made it all seem worth it.
His eyes were getting dry. That was a strange sensation. Especially because they made noticing things far away difficult and just now he thought he was seeing the first thing rise out of the saltflats. "Hopefully I'm not hallucinating." He said to himself as he got closer.
The thing he had found was massive and made of various stones. His mind was racing as he got closer. What was it? He kept getting closer, then heard a rumbling coming from it. It wasn't a building. It was a creature! A living, yet somehow immobile creature! "Hail!" Aristel yelled as he ran over. "Hail! You live too! Something alive in these god-forsaken la-"
Light flashed from the stone creature, and again Aristel's mind was assaulted by visions.
~
The woodland madman they were calling him. They were the wandering tribes of the area. He was half-blind and spoke weirdly as he walked through the forests, gathering strange bits of the world. Some tribes visited him, believing he possessed divine wisdom to share. He had none. None of them were important. When he spoke, he spoke of things they couldn't understand. Perfect circles, the essences of the world, the hidden esoteric meanings of every shape and object in the world.
"So why a circle!?" He rambled on as he was drawing the circle around a tree trunk. Most of the tree lay a bit further. The trunk had broken because of a storm. "Because it moves around. it goes around. No angles to get caught in. Very important! If it gets caught, it concentrates. You don't want it to concentrate!" Aristel yelled as he pointed his stick at a curious little Imantail. "If it concentrates, it goes beyond control. Always circles!" He yelled, a she continued his work. He drew more circles at the edge of the main one around the trunk.
"Then you have to have the formula right. And the offering. I've got it... i think. I'm not sure what will happen if I don't. Maybe I explode." He stopped drawing the new circles for a minute and looked sideways. A deer had joined the Imantail, as if the natural world was coming in to check on him. "I'll be fine. I have to be fine. If I explode now, how on earth will they make figures of me? And they'll have to make figures of me." He mumbled to himself as he kept drawing. Then he put in each new circle an object. A bone, a piece of sinewy flesh, and bread.
"Oh great power of motion. I call upon you. Bless this tree. Give it your power. Make it move. I beseech you, oh powers of portations, bless-" He kept the chant up for thirty exhausting minutes. He didn't know how he knew the chant beyond that the golem of the saltflats had somehow... taught it. Or rather etched its knowledge in his mind.
It was a significant first attempt for mortalkind to call upon certain forces in a very organized manner. An admirable one too. Sadly, it was not a perfect one. The bread was wrong. The Ideal of Motion that was being called took one metaphysical look at the ritual and knew the mortal had screwed up. As Aristel finished the chant the Ideal decided to send its message.
"Bless this tree trunks with locomotion!" Aristel finished the chant and felt every muscle in his body stiffen. This wasn't the plan. With arms held up high he fell backwards into the ground. His body was paralyzed, as if his own locomotion was stolen. But how!?
~
Hector was brought before the crazed old man at Excelsium's edge. As Scion of War he was amongst the first and foremost Spark Gifted of the growing village. "They say you're either dangerous or a genius." He said to the old man. "I'm here to judge. Who are you?"
"Aristel! Name's Aristel. I'm not dangerous, I am a genius!" He spoke with infallible confidence but his ragged appearance made it difficult to believe. Luckily, Hector was known to be merciful.
"What are you a genius of?" Asked Hector.
"Weircraft!" Aristel said. "I am the first founder of esoterism! And the creator of Weircraft! Excelsium will find it very useful. Especially in this life-choked world now."
Someone leaned into to Hector and said something. He frowned and sighed, then looked at Aristel again. "What is this weircraft and please, be quick about it."
"Why, it's this!" He gestured behind him, towards the towering field of wild wheat that had grown twice the height of a man. Everyone frowned for a second. They mumbled about it being just the while plants. Until something groaned from inside the field. A large, lumbering shape appeared. It was a walking tree trunk. it was walking on its roots. People screamed and panicked. Hector shot upright and grabbed his spear. The walking tree trunk groaned as it reached the edge of the field and then settled down. A soft glow from the softer wooden "joints" of the roots vanished. The tree trunk returned to being just that.
"See!" Aristel proclaimed. He hadn't moved at all. The moving tree trunk was behind him. He had given it a simple motion command: wait about fifteen minutes and then move across the field. Stop at the edge of the field. It was all he wanted it to do, as a demonstration and it had worked flawlessly.
A lot of people in Excelsium were terrified of the sight. A lot of them but not Hector, who looked at the madman Aristel, who was balancing on a perilous knife's edge. "You can teach this?" Hector asked.
"Yes!" Aristel proclaimed proudly.
From higher up the hill, in the village, Meris watched with a passive expression. The mortal's mind was damaged by the intervention. He would live long enough to act as a founder of this 'Weircraft' but it would be his students who would bring prosperity with it to Excelsium.
Meris “blessing” - In-Domain Specific Target - Avatar Aristel’s spark was forced to burn. Due to a lack of a catalytic event in Aristel’s life, the flame would consume him if he didn’t go out to find such a catalyst. (-1 Conviction, Lucid action performed by an Avatar)
We find Aristel, an old man, getting angry because his research isn’t giving him any of the information he wants. Meris visits him and forcefully activates his spark, giving him the option. Either he goes out to find his catalyst, or he dies. Consumed by the flame.
Next we see Aristel traversing some salt flats. He reaches a stranded knowledge golem, who etches some information in his brain.
Then we find Aristel attempting the ritual for the first time. He is trying to animate a tree trunk through asking for the aid of the Ideal of Motion. It fails. Aristel used a wrong ingredient. He is paralyzed.
Finally he returns to Excelsis and shows a tree trunk moving. His ritual was a success. But he is old. He will teach Excelsis the foundation of ritual Magick.
"I am a god!" Bellowed the young man. Ages, with the world being what it was, were difficult to measure. "And only a god can defeat me!" He bellowed again as three wood-armed warriors of the Excelsium tribe lay before him. Each was bruised and submitted to him. The young man had the bright smile of pure hubris on his face. "Is there anyone else?"
Khathen watched the kid with Miras, Warden of Mortality, beside him from the sidelines. "He is growing cocky." Khathen said. Miras, the giant humanoid, did not respond. "At this rate he'll actually believe he's invincible." Miras still said nothing. "Then, when reality decides otherwise, he will be in for a nasty surprise."
"He is a Scion of Excelsium." Miras finally said. Khathen did not believe it was meant to protect the young man. It was a reminder to him. This kid was destined to lead Excelsium one day, by divine right. Khathen grit his teeth and moved.
"Is there no one else!?" Yelled the kid before he was hit from the side with a thrown piece of firewood. He stumbled as Khathen, equipped with nothing but a barely blunted wooden spear, approached. The kid slammed his club on the makeshift shield. "A challen-"
His taunt was interrupted by the sudden explosive attack of Khathen, who began his relentless assault. The kid stumbled back, immediately frightened. This was not how the other warriors fought. Khathen jabbed, moved aside to dodge, swept at his feet, and feinted attacks at his face. The kid tried to respond in kind. He lunged with his own club at Khathen, who gracefully dodged and weaved around the clumsy strikes.
Fear was overtaking the kid. Nothing he was doing was working on the seasoned ranger of the tribe. It was as if he were fighting a spirit. He moved too fast and struck too hard. Khathen, seeing the fear and crumbling of ego, decided to finish it. He feinted an attack at the shield. With the back of his spear, he hooked the kid's heel and dropped him to the ground. The point of the spear was at his throat in a second.
"You can't do that!" Hector, the kid, yelled. Then he turned to look at Miras on the side. "I am the Scion!" He yelled, then he felt a stinging pain on his cheek. Khathen had grazed him. It was just enough to make Hector bleed.
"And if I wanted right now, I could end that destiny with one move." Khathen hissed. "You are arrogant. The warriors do not fight you for real because of your status. They are afraid. I am not. One day very soon you will bear the weight of this tribe on your shoulders, and you are not ready."
~
"We knew this would happen." One of the elders in the council said. Miras stood in the middle of the half-circle. He had given his prophecy. Jealous of Excelsium's might and wealth in food other tribes would band together and attack. Soon.
The eyes turned towards Hector, standing on the side. He was no longer a kid. "We never fought a battle like this before." There had been skirmishes. Greedy families who, instead of joining the great tribe, tried to steal instead. Hector had not been merciful to most of them. This was different. Miras' prophecy spoke of several families united under some warlord. Excelsium had never fought anything like that.
"Well, can you win?" Asked one of the elders.
"I need more people." Hector replied. The council erupted into a heated debate. The matter would not be settled here. Hector sighed and left.
He joined Khathen outside the beautiful, if not somewhat overdesigned, wooden council chambers. The earth had gone more silent still and the stone monster on the horizon had finally, fully, gone to sleep. Still, Excelsium kept building in the old ways.
"Nothing?" Asked a much older Khathen.
"By the time the old men have made a decision, the battle will already have been won or lost." Hector said.
Khathen nodded. "Miras once told me that those blessed with greatness will someday be tested, to see if they're worthy of it."
"You think this is my test?" Asked Hector.
"It is not. It's more real. If you fail, Hector, then Excelsium is over. In truth, it might be over either way. After the battle, so many of us might be wounded that the other tribes around might pick us clean like vultures." Khathen looked over the horizon. The fields were stretching far out now. "One problem at a time, I suppose."
~
The time had come. They came from the woods. First, only a handful. Then tens of people. Then over a hundred. They were armed similarly to the warriors of Excelsium, with hides, slings, and sharpened spears.
Hector's heart was beating in his throat. He was nervous. Khathen had forged him into the best warrior he could be. Was it enough? The numbers weren't equal. The invaders were more numerous. Excelsium's men and women looked well fed and strong, but the enemy had a sort of hungry, feral sense to them. They hadn't eaten for a while, probably, and only a few hundred men stood between them and a full granary.
It all started with yelling. The invaders came charging from the woods up the hillside. "Stand your ground!" Hector bellowed. The fire-hardened spears were lowered. Hundreds of steps shook the earth like in the days of old. The slingers from behind loosed their first volley. A few of the enemy stumbled or fell. Others bled but kept going. They were almost enraged by the sense of blood.
The two sides did not gracefully come together. It was utter carnage. Every bit of planning was gone with the wind. Men yelled, pushed, clawed, and bit at each other. The whole front turned into a mire of skirmishes and duels in no time. Khathen was dragged into a fight against two of the invaders, while Hector was supporting three of his.
He jabbed with his spear, wounding the leg of an invader who dropped. He tapped his men on the shoulders. A sign he taught them, then left. They could handle the others. Hector pulled back and overlooked the skirmish. Some spots needed his help. He gritted his teeth. When he was back, he would throw himself onto the temple grounds and beg whatever god would listen to give him a blessing to be in more places than one.
Then he saw it. Like a moth saw a flame. A large figure. Not so inhumanily large as Meris, but still a massive man. He moved through his own men like a normal man moved through a wheatfield. He was kin to Hector, in a metaphysical sense. Within him burned the same little spark that Hector possessed. The world slowed down. Suddenly, he understood the battle. The little skirmishes didn't matter. This was the real battle. Fire against fire, to see which would engulf which.
Hector snapped out of the moment when he saw someone else standing in the way of the giant invader. Khathen. "No!" Hector yelled. With club and shield in hand he rushed over. Khathen would die. Hector knew it in his heart. The man was a formidable warrior, a great mentor, a wise advisor, and the best scout of the tribe. None of it would matter. Khathen would die if he fought the giant. Hector pushed through the skirmishes, dropping several enemies as he barreled through a shield-locked battle. His club swung wildly and claimed the life of an invader swiftly.
It didn't matter. Hector was just too late. Khathen was pierced by his own spear, which was stolen by the giant and slammed through him. The old man stumbled backwards and turned to see Hector. "I'm sorry kid. This... might... be yours." He managed to say and then fell backwards. Somewhere in the village, looking anxiously at the battle, Khathen's husband let out a harrowing cry.
The scion of Excelsium snapped, roared, and charged at the giant. He slammed into the large shape of the man. Their duel overshadowed the entire battle in an instant. Both roared at each other not like men but like feral lions locked in a battle for dominance. Hector tried to keep up the pressure, but the giant man was formidable. He swung a giant stone hammer around him. Hector dodged and weaved around him, until he was just a second too late. The hammer slammed into his shield, breaking half of it and sending a sharp jolt through Hector's arm.
This could not be a battle of pure brawn, Hector thought. The giant had an advantage. Hector kept moving. The world was slow again. His heart was beating faster. There was no easy way to fight this man. Panic began to set in. What could he do? What could he do!? The duel passed the fallen Khathen. The spear was still stuck within his body and stood upright.
Right then something happened that only divinity could sense. Hector's spark, his inner fire that separated him from everyone else, had been dimming ever since Khathen died. Then it sparked to life, engulfing his heart.
Hector dropped his shield, rolled away, put all the momentum he had into an upwards swing with his club. The brute grabbed the club in his hands. Hector let him, as he backed off for a second and took Khathen's spear. The duel turned into something else. Hector dipped and moved faster than ever. He knew how the lumbering man fought now. He waited, patiently but still as carefully as he could. With a few failed jabs, he kept the giant interested. Then it came. The brute stepped forward, Hector feinted. The brute tried to grab the spear like before. Hector moved the butt of his spear around the man's heel and pulled.
Sashen fell to the ground. That had happened since he was a kid. It was a surprise. The world stood almost still now. For the longest time, he could feel that heat in his chest but it never burst into a roaring flame like the wandering prophet had said it would. Now he was defeated. In a second or two he'd be dead. Resigned to his fate he dropped his head to the side. There he was. The wandering prophet. A man even bigger than himself. He was looking form the village, surrounded by the people there. "Snake!" He bellowed. "You promised us fo-"
His final words were silenced by a spear through the throat. Hector had won. The fire inside of him erupted into a victorious fire. The invaders watched their chief die. Some dropped their weapons. Others fought on, desperately. Others still fled. Miras, standing amid the cheering villagers, offered Hector nothing more than a small nod.
~
The remaining invaders were bound and corralled. The sun was setting. "What now, lord?" Asked one of Hector's fighters. The man had killed three. There was vengeance in the air. Many people who had lost their daughters, sons, husbands and wives to the battle wanted the invaders to die.
Hector approached the prisoners. "You came here seeking our food." He said. "Seeking our wealth. You didn't get it through force. Now you are here. Your fate is in my hand. How many families did you butcher and plunder from?" The prisoners averted their eyes. "How many are dead because of you?" Hector let the words hang in the air for a bit.
"Join us." He then continued. The prisoners looked up. They were confused. "You came here looking to survive and thought you would have to fight for it. Not so. This is Excelsium! Bow your head to its majesty, vow to uphold her and uplift her and you will never want for food again!"
That night a long and arduous process of conversion began. One by one the priests of Excelsis moved amid the prisoners. They heard their stories, heard their deeds, and moved on. Many willingly threw themselves on their knees and praised Excelsium and its patron god. Hector kept a close eye. There would be rotten apples amongst the converted. People who would want more than what their due was. Their punishment would be hard. Still, the majority would bring their own little fragment of greatness to Excelsium. Some already did as they herded their animals out of the woods. Cows and bulls lumbered out. A fair few of them were slaughtered for the feast.
There was one more grim job for Hector, Scion of Excelsium, to do. At midnight, a handful of invading warriors knelt down before him. He raised his club and smashed each of their head in one fell swoop. They preferred death over assimilation.
Pure Mortal Post We are introduced to Hector as a youngling, over confident. He is taught a lesson.
Years later he is in command of the armed forces of Excelsium. Another roving tribe is approaching, made up from many absorbed tribes of hungry people. They fight. The leaders end up fighting too, but only after Hector’s mentor is slain.
The barbarian warchief is killed by Hector, whose inner spark explodes into a fire.
We finish with Hector giving mercy and clemency to the attackers. They can join Excelsium and partake in its agricultural wealth.
The underground was very different from the surface. It was dark, rugged, cold, and isolating. As the god-orb travelled through the dark caves of the world, a constant stream of ideas for new trials and visions of future triumphs filled his mind. These caves and underground rivers would be excellent challenges for mortals. It would test their endurance and sense of direction, most certainly. That wasn’t why he was in the underground though.
Excelsis eventually found what he was looking for deep in a cavern. In the middle of the cavern was a lake of lava with a crystalline root stretched over it. Excelsis had seen the same sort of crystal roots before, but smaller. This one was by far the biggest one. It was oddly akin to Excelsis, when he was born. He, too, had been grasping at the world with strange tendrils.
His hundreds of senses stretched themselves to observe the crossing of the lake of lava and the crystal root. He flew over it. Tiny tendrils stretched out towards the molten rock. It was clearly trying to figure out its environment. “Consciousness?” Excelsis asked out loud. “How else could you attempt to comprehend?”
He got closer to the root. It was clear that the heat of the magma below was affecting it. However, Excelsis needed it in its base form first. ”Let’s give you some reprieve,” he said, as he willed the lava below to cool for now. He allowed small pools of lava to remain, so that the crystalline tendrils reaching out wouldn’t be shattered by hardening rock. Already, the main root was cooling. ”There you go,” he whispered as he reached out with two dozen arms, several more mortal-like senses, and his god-sense towards the crystal root.
However, Excelsis’ tampering did not go unnoticed.
”Trespasser! Invader! Vandal!” Khthon’s furious voice boomed through the cavern, making the walls tremble in its wake. ”You! How dare you! How dare you come here, without my knowledge, without my permission, to take what is mine?!”
The Earth God’s body emerged from the lava, dripping with molten stone and glowing red hot from the heat. ”Answer me, God-Brother, lest I see fit to expel you by force.”
Excelsis forced himself to remain rather calm in the face of such an outburst. If he was ever going to be crowned king of the gods, he would have to handle his more temperamental kin as well. “My apologies,” he said as he retracted his senses from the crystal root. “I did not intend to trespass, and was unaware that anyone had claimed dominion of all the underground.” That being said, he had seen the strange piles of food and small sculptures at the cave entrance through which he stepped into the underground. Perhaps they had been offerings to this god?
“As for invading I-” He was about to defend himself when he realized he did alter something. He stopped exerting his influence over the recently solidified stone below him. It cracked, bubbled, and boiled as the superheated temperatures quickly consumed the stone.
“Now, we might have gotten off on the wrong foot here, I’m afraid,” Excelsis continued as he slowly and as non-threateningly as he could floated away from the crystal root. “Allow me to explain. I am Excelsis, god of discovery, and I am burdened with a grave duty. This world is being torn asunder. By us, I’m afraid. I am trying to find a way to prevent that. These roots—” A crab arm, a humanoid arm, and a tentacle one motioned towards the root below, already being heated again by the lava. “—seem to be foundational to the existence of this world. So I merely wished to examine this root just now. Since the strange seismic and volcanic activity is breaking them apart.”
The trembling of the walls ceased as Excelsis moved away from the crystals, but Khthon still wasn’t fully satisfied. ”When this world was born and we awoke on the black shore, I turned my gaze to the world below. No one else did. My claim remained uncontested, and so, yes, the underground belongs to me alone.” Khthon approached the crystal root and slowly looked it over for any crack or damage. Satisfied to find none, he fully emerged from the lava lake and climbed onto solid land.
“I am well aware of the struggles of the world as it adapts to the heat I have instilled in its bowels. A sad necessity. But I am not striving for the demise of our world; rather, I am working towards its further continuation,” Khthon explained. “You must think not of the immediate present, but the far future. The Earth was inert, and what world can survive when its very basis, the very thing it rests upon, is already dead?”
“I have given it warmth, and the power to change. I have calmed its thrashing, so that it does not tear itself apart as it learns its new shape. If harm came to your creations on the surface, I apologize; but it is not my fault that fragile life emerged when my work had still been unfinished.”
Khthon took a short pause, letting his words sink in. He did not seek forgiveness for his acts, for he did not regret them. He only hoped for some form of understanding of the necessity of such drastic changes.
“You say you are Discovery. Then I must warn you that I am Secrets, and that I and my realm alike resist such intrusiveness; our secrets are our own, and we do not appreciate attempts to rip them away from us.” The God’s gaze fell back on the crystal root, and he briefly fell silent once more. ”...But we are willing to make an exception. You seek to understand these roots, and protect them. I seek the same. Perhaps… cooperation is in order.”
The god of discovery was visibly pondering the information given. When Khthon explained his reasoning Excelsis felt himself get filled up a little bit, as if the discovery of the purpose behind the tectonic activity was making him a little bit more whole. It was an intriguing sensation for a god. A part of him admired the forethought of this god of secrets and the underground. Of course, such a being would be an excellent architect for a world and its many necessities. The explanations satisfied him greatly.
“If my creations could not deal with most of the upheaval, then they should deal with the harm that followed.” Excelsis said dismissively. “My concern is for mortality as a whole. I would not want to see it smothered by rivers of molten rock or ash-choked skies. Right now, volcanoes are still belching out lethal smoke and rivers of lava.” Even if, for individuals, a cataclysm was a most excellent catalyst to embrace their own greatness. Even as he spoke, he felt the small sparks imbued within countless mortals across the world. Each of them would fight the world as it was right now in their own way. So many would die, but many would also be triumphant.
Then his gaze too fell upon the roots. A part of him wanted to engage Kthon on the nature of secrecy. Was the ultimate purpose of a secret not to be uncovered? The greater the secret, the harder anyone should slave away to pull its dark essence into the light of comprehension or understanding. Such philosophical debates would have to wait. “Cooperation would indeed seem like the most expedient action!” he said as he approached the heated root. “This one seemingly is trying to comprehend its environment. Notice the tiny geometric outcroppings stretching towards the molten stone.” Excelsis continued, freely offering everything he had learned about the roots. He told Khthon about his theory of sentience, the great bell in the cave, and the broken roots he had seen in another cave.
After the lengthy pseudo-lecture on everything Excelsis had learned about the roots and theorized further still, he finally came to the end of his spiel. “So in conclusion, I think we should work towards finding ways of restoring and regrowing these crystal roots.”
Khthon let all the new information roll around in his mind. He had not been aware of the bell, or of its possible connections to his precious crystal roots. He had however intuited the possibility of them being alive, in a strange mineral way. The death of some of them he had witnessed only reinforced that idea. “Very well. I have already worked towards acclimating the crystals to magma, and protected the more fragile ones from heat they could not withstand. It is slow work, however.”
“Though I am loathe to letting someone run through my domain unhindered, I believe splitting up would yield better results. Your mastery over Discovery might even help them adjust more than I can as of now.” Khthon hummed a bit in thought. “You will see many things within the stone, and you will tell no one. In exchange for your silence, I am willing to fully stop the raging of magma. It has found its place, and can now be calmed.” Of course, the occasional eruption and earthquake would still happen, that was a reality he could not change without further unbalancing the world, but they would now be much rarer events and much less destructive too. The kind of seismic catastrophes that could wipe an entire tribe off the map would be once-in-a-few-lifetime events, rather than daily or weekly happenstance.
”Do we have an understanding, God-Brother?” Khthon asked.
The demand that none of what would be learned in the dark could be shared with others was a steep one. So steep that it gave Excelsis pause for a moment. There was a bounty within the underground that was needed if Excelsis wanted to explore beyond his own limits. Not to mention that mortals would require resources from it, too. Not being able to talk about that would make it rather difficult.
But he could worry about the future of himself and mortalkind when he had secured it. “We have reached an accord!” he enthusiastically agreed, as part of the god-orb began to slouch off of him and drop down onto the ground. The primordial sand, perhaps the last in existence, began to take shape into an arachnid-like creature. Its front pair of spindly legs reshaped themselves into thicker, clawed appendages to burrow through the earth and stone. Four pairs of eyes could each see a different spectrum of light. Ferro-magnetoreceptor spines along its back would make sure it knew wherever it was. More senses were added as well, and it got a thick carapace to protect it from the boiling lava. When it was fully formed, it was nothing but a marvel of discoverability and resistance to survive the underground.
“This is Anakalypso.” said Excelsis as he presented his work. “She will roam the underground to examine, study, and work on the crystal roots at my behest. Her mind is linked with mine. All she knows, I know.” And so it was, but perhaps most striking was her mouth. It was a spindly thing, more akin to a spider’s than anything else. Sufficient to eat as an animal would, but without any vocal cords. Anakalypso would never speak.
“I think that would conclude my adventure into your underground, my God-Brother. But before I leave, there is one small matter I must ask you about.” The God-Orb moved away from the crystalline roots for a moment. “Above ground, there will be an empire that will stretch the whole of the surface. It must worship the gods, all the gods, in the ways that each god sees fit. Thus my question: how are they to worship you?”
”Worship… I do not see why I should seek out worship from the mortal creatures above. We live in very different worlds, after all.” Khthon thought back to the countless mortals who had foolishly perished in his caves, trying to steal his treasures, and of the few who escaped. ”If they were to seek out blessings or gifts, however, a trade could be arranged.”
”I have no care for food or drink, but I am fond of beautiful things. Mortal craftsmanship, bones, things that can withstand ages and are not seen beneath the surface, I desire them all.” Khthon gave a jagged smile. ”Let them bury their offerings, so that they reach me. Let them call unto my name. In exchange, I will gladly trade some of my wealth, offer them safe passage through my realm, or forever hide within my hoard what they wish to make disappear.”
”Let them know that the Earth is jealous, and that nothing is given away for free.”
With those last words, Khthon exerted his will through the magma bubbling deeper in the Earth, finally calming it to a truly docile state. Volcanoes all over the world fell into a dormant state, with only a few smaller ones remaining active. Seismic activity slowed to a point where noticeable earthquakes became a rarity rather than the norm, except for a few places near major faults. Though it would take some time, the surface would now finally have a chance to heal from the devastation.
Excelsis goes for a little trip deep underground. He encounters a crystal root being heated by a lava lake and cools parts of the lake for a moment to better study the root. Khthon does not like this transgression and appears in a fury. The two talk about the roots and the tremors. They come to an understanding.
Khthon quiets the earth a little bit more and allows Excelsis to examine the underground roots. In return, Excelsis will not tell anyone of his discoveries underground. Excelsis accepts and creates the avatar Anakalypso, an arachnid-like creature designed to live in and study the underground. Excelsis asks Khthon how he wishes to be worshipped. Khthon desires no active, aimless worship. Instead, he seeks a more transactional relationship, where he is willing to trade boons and minerals for offerings he deems precious.
Conviction Spent - Excelsis created an avatar (-1 Conviction) - Khthon fully calmed magmatic and seismic activity to a much lower, normal level worldwide, except for a few areas of high activity (like volcano belts or near major faults like in San Francisco. Pretty rare overall) (Calm a disaster, In-Domain, Lucid, 0 conviction)
Excelsis watched as the whole crystal cavern shuddered. He sought out understanding in its most humble form: he asked for it. With a tendril and an honest request, he wished to discover what the bell was. That question was not answered. It did answer a question that Excelsis never asked: what do you want me to do.
The bell’s unambiguous request for intervention and stability was heard by the god of discovery and eminence.
For a second it left him stunned. Ever since he came to be the god had an undeniable belief that someday he would be the most eminent of all the gods. He would reign over them, not through force but because it was the obvious thing to come to pass. The journey from regular god into the greatest of them all would lead him towards challenges. Now here it was. Perhaps the greatest challenge ever. The very existence of the world hung in the balance.
The greater the challenge, the stronger its catalytic force. So would solving this growing crisis not make him the greatest of all his kin?
The god’s arrogance was not infinite. As one part of him was almost dreaming of the throne and the crown, another was reflecting back. There was knowledge to be found in past actions, especially upon learning new information. The world was destabilized. It wasn’t hard to figure out why. They were doing this. His own kin.
He himself. Excelsis, in that moment, doubted that the entry of the Patrons and Matrons into the world was a wise decision. Yet to fight and force one to utterly destroy itself could not have done the world’s balance any favors. For the first time since the incident he realized that he might have to repent for that.
With the inward journey complete, he took a bow before the bell. “Thank you for your wisdom.” He said solemnly before leaving the cavern.
Outside he was met with pandemonium. The wretched, darkened ocean was pulling away and the very earth was quaking. Billowing smoke rose up into the sky and plumes of fire could be seen far away. Excelsis did not need his god-sense to know that fledgling mortalkind was dying.
The planned subtilty would not do. The god-orb rushed forward. Ur-humans were running from cataclysm and out of the forests. Some managed to get to the relative safety of some plains. Those would have to do. Excelsis approached them from the skies. Again, the humans started yelling. “Fear not, mortals! I am Excelsis. Remember the name, for it is the name of your salvation!”
The eldritch words still echoed through Zemia’s mind. It had knocked her and all of her tribe into a catatonic state. As if the very rational sensation of fear when seeing an eldritch orb of a thousand eyes and a hundred arms was wretched out of her. It had been for the better. For no sane mortal would be able to suffer the presence of such a god for very long. Excelsis had blessed them with placidity so he could offer them their salvation.
She walked through the growing village and still marvelled at the growing huts. Before they made their shelters from whatever they could find. Thanks to Excelsis, they were now making firmer constructions from the wood harvested from the nearby forest. The ground shuddered again for a moment. People stopped doing what they were doing and anxiously looked around. The buildings remained upright. Everyone smiled. A fair few closed their eyes, put their index finger on their forehead and raised it in praise of the god-orb.
Zemia continued on. She passed the new farmers. They bowed before her, unable to make the traditional salute as they were carrying baskets full of vegetables. The first harvest had been an incredible success. In the distance, the great stone mark of cataclysm still loomed. “People are still worried.” A mother said as she received some of the leafy vegetables from the passing farmers. “They say it can still spew its fires.”
“We must have faith.” Said Zemia. “The Lord-Eminence chose this place, chose us, to lead all people into a bright future. He wouldn’t let us burn.” She offered the woman a comforting smile. There was no doubt in Zemia’s that Excelsis would not forsake them. Her certainty anchored the others of the tribe. Which had swelled far beyond familial ties.
At the center of the village was no great building. Not yet. It was little more than pounded dirt. A crowd had gathered, which parted to let Zemia through. In the middle of the crowd were six people. A couple and one elderly man, joined by three children. They were kneeling. Before them stood an eight-foot creature in the likeness of an old yet strong man.
“Rise now, as citizens of Excelsium.” The giant man said, and the family in the middle of the crowd did so. He signaled for Zemia. She approached them and offered each of them one of the simple breads she was carrying. For a second the whole plaza was silent as the newcomers at. Everyone whispered a quick prayer towards the Lord-Eminence, each touching their forehead and raising their finger to the sky. Then everyone cheered and embraced the new people.
Excelsis realizes the bell is some sort of marker for world stability when the Cataclysm hits. He has a moment of self-reflection before leaving to try and stabilize the world and convince his kin to do the same. But he starts with mortals.
Excelsium is born, in the form of a growing tribe, given the sacred knowledge of agriculture, wood construction for techniques for tectonically active regions and the sociological construct of religion. Additionally, they also get an Avatar to guide them.
Conviction -1 Conviction: Teach the people of Excelsium Agriculture -1 Conviction: Teach the people of Excelsium Flexible wooden construction methods -1 Conviction: Teach the people of Excelsium Religion -1 Conviction: Make an Avatar (Meris, Warden of Mortalkind) (2 Conviction remaining)
Meris Meris was given the shape of an older but muscular man, 8 feet tall to tower over the people. He has many titles: Second Prince, Architect of Excelsium, Warden of Mortalkind, Lightguide and more. His purpose is simple: to steer mortalkind into greatness, so they may become a useful aid for Excelsis to uncover all of the mysteries of the world.
Yzechr watches as the new god slowly descends into the cave. Looking closely, this guy is even weirder than the time they saw from afar. What’s with those eyes and ears that scream greed and desperation for any stories and knowledge. However, it’s not like the god of corruption would dislike such earnestly.
“What is it terminating, indeed.” Yzechr turns their head to look at the strange bell, echoing the many eyes god’s question. “The world? the cavern itself? our godly existence? Who knows? Otherwise I wouldn’t call for another set of opinions. You know as well as I do that our other ... comrades might not be so reliable when it comes to our neighbor from the outside, some even openly protected them.” The hollow eyes of black mist look directly at many eyes floating around the eccentric god. “You are the only one I can trust with this knowledge.”
Is this the black god’s true sentiment, or yet another facade? Another mystery that will never be solved. Maybe even they themselves don’t know the answer to this question.
“Do you recall the low ringing sound that rang throughout the world when we first regained consciousness? It must be the sound of this bell. Assuming the number at the time is 100 percent, that means between then and now, about one third of the percentage has been counted down. And it is a countdown because when I first came here, the number just went from 67 to 66. Of course, you can’t rule out the possibility of it not being fully 100 percent, or that it is counting down long before we woke up.”
Yzechr put forth their opinion, perhaps with more insight and meticulousness than what they would normally let others see.
There was something profoundly wrong about being given trust by this god. As if it was a great chalice so filled with poison that it had turned green and corroded. It would be wise to scrutinize every word this god spoke. Have every syllable held before the light of truth lest it could bring trouble.
Excelsis was not the god of wisdom. Despite the wrongness of his valued colleague the god-orb’s consciousness was obsessing over the esoteric displays before him. The obsession allowed for no interference. Even as the nebulous form spoke, eyes were recording the forming and vanishing figures into his divine memory. Though it was as if even a divine mind was struggling with it.
“The current state of reality is imperfect.” Excelsis said out loud though the vast majority of his senses was focused on the bell and crystalline cave. Only a handful of eyes were looking at the cloud-form of Yzechr. “But manageable. Easily alterable. It takes little of our power to turn uncertainty into concrete. Reality is receptive to us. We might perhaps even posit that we are currently supreme beings.”
The god of corruption listened to their companion with focused attention, wanting to study the other god’s behavior no less than this strange place. Even when the many eyes god went on the rambling, Yzechr still listened with no sign of adverseness.
“Perhaps so, but we are not the maker of the rules, never the maker. Just pawns who still have to play by the rules that were made long ago. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be here, terrified by the possibility of doom.” The black god pauses a little before another sentence. “Never forget that, my friend.”
”Perhaps so.” The comment made Excelsis annoyed with himself. Not only had this other god made a point, but it was a good point as well! It was an excellent deduction that he himself should’ve made. Still, the nebulous god was right. The existence of the Outsiders, these strange mysteries before them and even the very nature of their birth made clear that there were higher forces at play.
“And yet, these higher forces have not seen it fit to intervene overly much.” Excelsis continued his rambling. He took a secret bit of solace in that thought. Even when he - arguably - tore to shreds a Patron in an effort to steal its very essence, these higher forces did not intervene… or was that the momentary flicker and confrontation with his own imperfectness? Excelsis decided it was best not to dwell on it.
“For now we must assume that we are the most supreme beings active in this world.” His shape edged closer to the bell. As if any proximity might force it to interact and betray its purpose through the enigmatic god-sense. ”Thus, the current state - even if unfinished - of this world is beneficial to us. Ergo, we desire to maintain this status quo.”
The god-orb turned fully to face his gaseous kin. “We must find a way to identify this mechanism that is seemingly staving off this termination and stabilize it.” He said it as a grand declaration of intent.
“And how are you intent to accomplish this task?” Yzechr asked, curious about how the many eyes god would solve their problem.
"Observation and experimentation!" Excelsis proudly declared. ”The tools of discovery.” he was entirely within his element here.
“Then, I won’t disturb you any more”
Seems like there is no way to pry the eccentric god from the strange bell and the abnormal cave, Yzechr rationalized that it would be better to leave the god alone for now. The black mist floating out of the bell cavern back to the proximity where most of the actions happen.
The Spark is now a metaphysical artifact (Nightmare level powers but reduced cost due to being in domain). It'll still have ripples and consequences. Not to mention that, should gods so desire, they can look up and even take the artifact. Right now the artifact is "given to the world".
That being said, all effects now also influence the current generation of mortals. Have fun with it you guys!
Lord Zee
Vec
Rekkuza
Iwannabeyours
princess
Cmmelody
Necrodancer
ActRaiserTheReturned
Timemaster