Legion02

Divinus: The God RP, Mk. IV

It was good that the Curators’ efforts were bolstered by new Akua, Vespian, and Mantarin members. Especially now, when suddenly all Eloxochitli retreated into their compound. They even locked themselves into a singular chamber. The door was barricaded from the outside and guarded, at all times, by two Itztli. Requests to meet with the venerable toads were politely but clearly refused. This suddenly isolation was because of a singular thing. In the midst of the five Eloxochitli sat a small bowl with golden glowing ink. There was only a little of it, yet it was very clearly magical.

Yet the Eloxochitli could not comprehend its nature at all. Their very orderly minds were obsessing over the substance in silence. Ruminating over its possible complications. It wasn’t made by their god, that was for sure. Sadly, it would be utterly impossible for these creatures to understand the ink. Their minds were devoid of almost all emotions. Pure reason ruled, which would override any chaos that could birth artistic inspiration. The ink itself was brought before them by a mere goblin painter when he had slaved, for years, to depict the sun in all its glory.

Eventually, they all confessed their resignation with a single grunt each and went to pray.

Qael’Naath was not prayed to. His name was not well known in the world of Galbar. Which was by design after all. Yet when five of his most beloved children settled down to pray in unison to him, he knew he had to answer. His avatar sped across the world. In a flash, it was over the compound, then it sept through the knocks and crannies into the meditative chamber. In the midst of it he could see the ink. Even he had to marvel for a moment, for to him it felt like the very essence of the world laid before him. He prodded and examined the ink with his divine senses, trying to get it to react to his own creation. Everything failed. He scanned the minds of his servants for knowledge. There he found it. The ink was produced by an artisan in the most mystical ways. Qael’Naath’s understanding of art was quite different really. He saw art in ratios and geometric shapes. To him a beautiful spell was a sequence of perfectly defined instructions. Even if their effect was nigh invisible.

This expressionism was something very different. Qael’Naath could trace back its origins to a state of emotional chaos. Yet it wasn’t malevolent or hurtful. The god pondered deeply upon the ink and the certainty that more of its kind could be created. Even though it was not born from order, it perhaps could still be fruitful to learn about it.

The decree was received with joy. The barricade was lifted and plans created. The many unfinished hallways and open plots surrounding The Library now showed their purpose, as a few of them were being filled in. However, the new building was not designed solely by the desires of the Itztli and Eloxochitli. Renown Mantarin and Vespian designers were consulted. Each lending their own touch to the sprawling new building. It would be smaller than the first hall, but far more open. With galleries and even workshops inside. Questions were raised about the often odd placings of walls but left unanswered.

the permission from the queen and her bureaucracy was given and the construction of the new extension of The Library began. Like before, all races that shared Sancta Civitas joined in to help raise the creation. Stone was imported en mass and chiseled to perfection. Meanwhile food tokens were freed up by the Curators in an effort to acquire more samples of ink. Study of these substances were left to Mantarin and Goblin Curators. The more artistically inclined amongst them bore exceptionally fruitful results.

When the new hall was complete, it was ceremoniously opened. Inside though, the influence of The Library outstretched itself towards the new extension. The once peculiar walls that should have been windows shimmered and apparently changed form until each wall showed a majestic landscape. Roiling hills, majestic mountains and tranquil oceans were all shown. The doors to these galleries and were thrown open for all with artistic talent to be inspired by the endless illusions. The upper chambers of the domed hall featured open air solariums and the illusionary walls. Lower levels held galleries with large open windows where paintings, sculptures and the now newly made plaques containing hauntingly beautiful poems would be shown. Other rooms on this level served to research the various inks that were slowly trickling into the building. Most of those inks were stored within the vaults underground though, so they wouldn't be stolen.

---

Ketrefa was growing into a sprawling city with a very keen interest in magic. An interest Qael’Naath took notice of. Unlike Acadia, Ketrefa had no immediate danger. Their mages did not have to be trained in the arts of self defense or destruction. Instead they seemed to have focused on runes and icons. The Winds of Magic remained hidden within the inky sky and observed from above. Despit the focus, the runes were still of an abysmal quality. He couldn't fault the carvers though. They were working with imperfect materials. Still, like Acadia they too deserved a little gift.

Helian had been up all night carving his runes in an artisan’s statue. The statue was meant to radiate heat but be more durable than the usual poles they placed during the winter. In fact they wanted the statue to remain there for many years. Helian had been practice on stone slates in an attempt to refine his technique. To no avail. He tried everything: wooden rulers to guide him, a smaller chisel and even putting the hammer in an apprentice’s hand so he could focus on keeping the chisel on track. All was in vain. The imperfections remained. Sure, some runes were carved very well. They could’ve lasted for maybe a full year. It wasn’t enough though.

Exhausted he dropped his chisel and mallet as the rune chipped again. Making it imperfect. “It’s impossible.” He said to himself in resignation. The statue had to be done by tomorrow afternoon, yet here he was. Not even started. The fact that he barely slept caught up with him now as he slowly closed his eyes for just a quick nap.

He woke up with the sun in his eyes. Panic gripped his heart. There was no more time. Whatever happened next, it was in the hand of fate and the gods. He grabbed his chisel and hammer and moved over to the statue. Upon which he began to slowly but surely carve the rune. To his surprise, it didn’t chip. Every bit of stone removed was the exact bit that had to be removed. Panic slowly replaced itself with joy as he managed to finish the project just before sun reached its peak.

Summary

The Emissaries discover ink from ink weaving and ruminate upon its properties. Though they are unable to glean its secrets. So they request Qael'Naath's help. Who learns that the ink is the product of a very mortal form of chaos: artistic creativity. So he decrees that a new part of The Library will be constructed in dedication and for the research of this mystical ink.

In Ketrefa, a young rune carver named Helian is desperate. He is supposed to finish carving a rune into a statue by the next day. Though the rune request has to be of impossible quality. He had practiced for days but still came short. Eventually, he resigns himself to a nap. When he wakes up in a panic, he rushes over to the statue and begins carving. So that the project would at least be finished. To his surprise he found that the rune is carved to perfection.

MP, DP & Prestige

Qael'Naath
Start: 3MP/3DP
-1DP >> add a title to The Library

The Library

Walls of Infinity I – A gift to the artists who can weave the ink. Vast galleries exist within the Vault of Ink. Grand, flat walls are flanked by windows letting in natural sunlight. The walls themselves are rarely visible though. For upon them illusions in the 3 spatial dimensions are projected. These illusions may show tranquil fields, majestic mountain ranges, or even the hearts of a storm. They also produce faint sounds and smells of the location. Meant to inspire poets and other dreamers as well. The illusions are not constant and will randomly shift to show different landscapes. These landscapes would serve to inspire artists. However, the locations are not real. They are not places upon Galbar. The illusions are not portals and running headfirst into them will only give you a concussion

-1MP >> Consecrate the Rune-Carver's Chisel

Rune-Carver's Chisel

Rune-Carver II – The chisel helps all who use it in their iconographic magic carving. It minimizes errors by not transferring the force exercised on it that would create errors in the rune. So it only lets you remove the right amount of material. The caveat is that the wielder actually has to know and have the intent to carve a certain rune. There is also the dangers of indecisiveness to consider. For example: if you want to carve a completely different rune mid-way your carvings, the chisel will switch its priority and assume you want to start from zero on the new rune. It cannot pick up a half-finished rune and help you finish it. So once you’ve begun carving you must finish it before you start the next rune. (Free >> Discount)

Strong I – The chisel’s metallic component is extremely strong. Allowing one to carve into the metal without fear of blunting or grinding down its head. (-1 MP)

End: 2MP/2DP

Prestige >> 6.4K post
+3 Prestige to Sancta Civitas

Divinus: The God RP, Mk. IV

Carn

&

Aurielle

---

Noon tended to be the best time to hunt trolls.

The sun was at its highest. Shadows were at their shortest. The only place the trolls had to hide were directly underneath something. They were easy to root out.

This day was no exception.

Thirty mercenaries brazenly ascended a hill, making no attempt to be silent or to hide their presence. Boots crunched against the discarded bones of their fellow humans. The plan their white-haired leader devised had depended on being detected. The slope they climbed led up to a wide cave entrance, at the base of a mountain.

The prey slept soundly within… all except a single pair of eyes, which saw the humans approaching, and let out a roar of warning to wake the rest of its kin.

“Forward!” shouted Carn, pointing a spear at the cave. The mercenaries climbed the hill at a quicker pace, even as the trolls within the cave began to rouse themselves. They came to a stop just before the cave’s mouth, as Carn ordered them to form a line of spears two ranks thick. At the head of the line stood Carn himself, along with a trio of mages, one of whom was the red-headed sorceress he had spent the past two years adventuring with.

“Hold!” he held up a hand, letting the mages know that the time was not right. He listened closely, taking note of the sounds within the cave. The ranglefants let out cries of alarm at first. Then he could hear the scraping of rock and the occasional grunt as they began to form up.

Then, he heard a series of roars and the sound of feet stomping on stone, as the creatures began their charge. “Now! Fire!” he said to Aurielle.

She outstretched her right hand and summoned an orb of fire in it. Her two mages, the young Solenia and the older and pompous Kalhin began to chant next to her. The wind was picking up. You could hear it in the rustling of the trees. Auriëlle kept her eyes on the cave’s exit. As was decided. Only when she saw the first trolls emerge, she would unleash her wrath. The mere seconds that passed felt like hours. Then she saw it, the eyes and the first bits of skin. Combined with a deafening roar. “Stand your ground!” She shouted, though Kalhin next to her needed no encouragement. It was Solenia who began to tremble. “It’s okay.” Auriëlle said, much more reassuring now. “We can do this. On my mark…Now!”

A surge of fire erupted from her hand blasting straight towards the hole. A fierce gust of wind roared from behind them and fed Auriëlle’s flame. Fire raged into the den, filling it up. Screams of hate and pain echoed from the cave. One burning troll even managed to make it out of the cave. Though not far. The flames clung to his skin. He stumbled, and finally fell. Dead. Auriëlle couldn’t maintain her sorcery for much longer though. As her mages saw Auriëlle’s flame die, they both stopped their wind spells to feed the fire. Solenia looked tired by the effort. While Kahlin looked as if he was ready for more.

“That should be it.” Auriëlle said with a cocky smile as she turned to Carn. Then she heard a roar that made the hair on her arms stand up. “Impossible!” She said as she turned around. More trolls were charging out of the still slightly smoking hole. “Kahlin, Solenia, get out of here! Carn kill them!” She shouted as she ran over to protect her mages.

There were five in total. The wall of spears advanced forward, stepping past the mages and closing back into formation. The lead ranglefant wasn’t particularly impressive by the standards of its kind, but one thing which caught Carn’s eye was the tribal necklace around its neck, consisting of various beads, fingerbones, and even a silver sapphire ring. But now was not the time to think of loot. The trolls were upon him.

The spears thrust forward. Three of the five trolls were skewered in their guts, but even as they died the momentum of their charge carried their bodies forward and forced portions of the line to step back. Carn and two others lunged for the lead troll, but to Carn’s astonishment it was able to seize all three spears in a single lightning-fast swipe.

The three weapons were yanked from their grips. Carn’s hand instinctively went for his sword, just as the troll suddenly took one of the spears, flipped it around with an elegance never before seen in its kind, and thrust it at Carn’s chest. He raised the shield, and although he successfully blocked the blow, the shield nearly splintered, and the beast’s impact forced him to stagger backward.

The two men who had stood beside him drew their swords and charged forward. The troll swatted one aside with a swing of its massive arm, while the other was able to sink a blade into its side. Enraged, the troll placed both hands on the attacker’s skull and squeezed, crushing it.

In that moment Carn rushed forward, driving his blade into the troll’s gut and ripping it through its stomach. Carn felt both his nose, jaw, and nearly every single one of his teeth break as the beast violently backhanded him away. He landed on his back and slid several feet, looking up just in time to see the troll collapse and die as its entrails spilled onto the floor.

Meanwhile the final troll had managed to plow through the line, knocking several men aside. It set its gaze on the mages, the ones who had scorched so many of its kin, and rushed toward her with a vengeful roar.

Auriëlle and Kalhin had been carrying a weakened Solenia away from the fray. Though they hadn’t gotten far. When the roar from behind them came, she knew she had no choice. She released the young mage and turned around. Point two fingers at the face of the troll. It heaved it’s heavy arms over its head. Ready to slam her into the ground. “Die.” Auriëlle said as lightning arched over the wooden vambrace on her arm. The arcs grew in intensity until they reached the tip of her two fingers. A bolt of lightning shot forward and struck the troll in its face. It staggered backwards, clutching its face. Auriëlle didn’t give him any time to react though. She outheld her other hand and began to gather her power in its palm. When the troll regained its bearing it roared at her, just in time for her to release her sorcery.

A visible wave of fire burned the whole troll from head to toe. Blackening its skin. After releasing a final grunt, it sunk to its knees and fell before her. Auriëlle kept her eyes on the other dying trolls. “Kahlin, go check on the wounded.” Kahlin did as commanded with silent obedience. That’s why she liked him. He was dependable. Solenia though, Solenia was weaker than him. Perhaps less talented. Still, she had the same conviction as Auriëlle back when she was still in Acadia. It was why she took Solenia under her wing.

She got up and walked towards Carn. “How many were killed?” She asked.

Carn held up a hand as his nose snapped back into place and his jaw reset itself. He spat blood onto the grass. “Three,” he said with a shrug, his voice sounding odd due to the fact that his teeth were still regrowing as he spoke. “A few might have broken bones.”

She winced at the sound of his face reconstructing itself. It was impossible to get used to it. It just felt wrong. Then again, she would rather have it perfect and heal itself than have him lose all his teeth several times over. She then looked at the people around her. “A druid in the nearby town can heal most of those injuries. Kahlin can try but-“ Behind her a soldier screamed in pain. “-I don’t think I want to subject too many of the men to him.” She finished before she turned to the blackened hole of the cave. “That ran much deeper than the king told us.” She said with a strange suspicion. Had the king played them or really just not known? Maybe his retinue was right behind them. It wouldn’t have been the first time some king sends in a small group of mercenaries to weaken their foes so they can then deliver the finishing blow.

Carn shrugged. “I doubt he explored this cave himself. Anything he knew about it would have come from some hunter or forager, going off their memory. There were a few more trolls than expected, though. Might be able to justify the King giving us a bonus, but I doubt it.”

“Kings don’t give bonuses.” Auriëlle said. It was a vexing thing, working for nobles and royals. But they generally paid better than villagers binding together. Their little mercenary group had garnered enough fame that those higher echelons would hire them. Which was impressive enough considering they weren’t in the mercenary business for longer than three years. It wasn’t enough though. “I want something bigger, Carn.” Auriëlle said, betraying her anxiousness.

“Hm. Never heard that complaint from you before…” Carn smirked. Others were already tending to the wounded. For those who were in too rough shape to be healed, splints and makeshift stretchers were already being fashioned from broken or discarded spears.

“You should listen more? I’ve said it several times.” She returned with the same smirk but then she became serious again. “I mean it though, Carn. Do you really want to burn out troll dens for fat creeps on glorified chairs for another five years?” It was clear that she didn’t. Life was too precious, as was time.

“What do you have in mind, then?” Carn asked her. “It’s not like we can storm the walls of Ketrefa and set ourselves up as King and Queen.” He shrugged. “Don’t get me wrong, I’d love something more. The only problem is finding it.”

She would never be a queen. The idea of being chained down to a chair disgusted her. Sure she wanted a home. A place where she wouldn’t be chased out after a week but instead would be welcomed after years of traveling. “Ruling might be your thing but you know it isn’t mine. I just want to be part of something bigger. There has to be something bigger, something more worthwhile going on somewhere? Like a big war.” In the last few years, violence and fighting had become Auriëlle’s life. Strangely enough she enjoyed it. Sure she had bled and screamed in pain as well. Yet it all made her feel alive. She couldn’t imagine what a heady drug a war would be for her.
Carn quirked his brow. “Wouldn’t we just be helping a fat creep on a glorified chair fight another fat creep on a glorified chair?”

“At least I’d get to kill one of the fat creeps.” Auriëlle said as she turned around. “Get your men ready to return. Those trolls are beginning to stink.”
“One moment,” Carn said as he rose to his feet and stepped over to the troll he had gutted. “You three, help me turn this bastard over!” he ordered. Three men moved to comply, helping him flip the large creature over. Carn’s gaze found the primitive necklace on the beast’s neck, then he drew his knife, cut the string, and plucked the silver ring free.

He examined the ring in its palm. The craftsmanship was unlike anything he had ever seen, and the sapphire quite literally seemed to glow. No doubt this would be of immense value. “Alright,” he said. “Redspears!” He shouted, using the company’s official name. “Sweep the cave for anything valuable, then form up. It’s time to go!”

---

“So,” Carn said, approaching Aurielle’s table and taking a seat. “The King is set on paying on us the agreed upon amount. Despite the fact that he was mistaken regarding the number of trolls.” The sellsword shrugged. “But, pay is pay, I suppose. He’ll have it delivered here shortly.”

He better, Auriëlle though. “We really should just be overcharging them anyway.” She said as she took a gulp from her watered wine and then ripped a piece off her chicken. It wasn’t every day that she could eat such a delicious piece of poultry so she would enjoy it. “So did the soldiers find anything in that hole? Other than that sapphire ring.”

Carn shrugged. “Bones and corpses. Some with pouches and equipment attached. Nothing worth mentioning.” He took the ring out. “This thing is a beauty, though. I have to wonder how much it’s worth.”

“It’s enchanting as well.” With a quick move of her hand she took the ring off Carn and held it in front of her. That gem was definitely glowing in a weird way. She couldn’t feel any magic coming off of it though. At least none that she knew of. Instead she felt something different. “Actually…” she said slowly as she held it closer. “I think it really might be enchanted.”

Carn reached out and gently took the ring back. “If it’s enchanted, how do we figure out what it does?”

“Put it on. If something bad happens I’ll just cut your finger off.” She took a big swig of her watered wine, it was her third tankard and she was beginning to feel its influence a little now. “And I promise I will try to not cut off your whole hand.” What did it matter, it would regrow right?

“You are a paragon of mercy,” Carn remarked as he slipped the ring onto his finger. “Hm. Can’t say I feel any different.” He waited a few moments, then took it off. “Perhaps you should try?”

Auriëlle took the ring but look at it for a moment. “What if its cursed but it doesn’t work on Helgen?” She asked, mostly to herself though Carn probably heard it as well. Slowly she put it on, ready to rip it off should she feel anything dangerous. Instead she just felt cold silver. It didn’t do anything indeed. Though she held her hand out to see the ring on her hand. It was gorgeous. Even more beautiful than the ruby amulet she was given some two years ago. Then she realized what a ring on a finger meant. Instantly she took it off and laid it back on the table. “Maybe it only works when you do something. Like running or lifting something.” She quickly added.

Carn shrugged and slipped the ring back on. “Only one way to find out, I suppose,” he shrugged. “Anyhow, I heard something that might interest you. Apparently there’s tension between the western Highland kingdoms and the eastern Lowland kingdoms. More than usual, I mean.”

Auriëlle’s face lit up. “More than usual? As in a war? Are you telling me there is war!?” She was getting visibly excited now.

Carn shrugged. “Not yet. But there might be. Kings, chieftains, lords, and merchants are all getting tense. Hiring more mercenaries. Even if things don’t devolve into open conflict, we’ll have no shortage of work.”

“Then I guess we’ll just have to find a merchant who goes to either one of those kingdoms and then go from there!” Auriëlle said.

He nodded. “That is what I was thinking. Now, from what I’ve been told, these tensions are over the usual issues. We Highlanders want the Lowlanders’ grain. We’re bothered by the prices they charge; they’re bothered by the tolls placed on their caravans. You’d think there’d be an easy solution for this, but apparently not,” Carn shrugged. “They also say that bandits from the Highlands are slipping into the Lowlands to raid, and the local leaders aren’t doing anything to stop it. The Lowlanders also want free access to the Sunlit Temple, and… well, there are a lot of issues. But… definitely wealth to be won. And plenty of action for us both.”

Summary

Carn, Auriëlle and their mercenaries named the Redspears are tasked by some regional king to eradicate a den of ranglefant trolls. Carn’s soldiers lure the trolls out and Auriëlle burns the entire den. Though several manage to survive the fire by staying deep in the den where the flames couldn’t reach them. A short but bloody battle erupts. After the battle Auriëlle remarks that she wants something bigger. Carn and her have a short back and forth about what she’d exactly want. After which Carn gives the order to loot the den and the corpse of a troll. Who was holding a sapphire ring on a necklace.

Back in the city of the kingdom they were hired by, Auriëlle and Carn have a discussion about the ring. Auriëlle says it’s enchanted, yet neither seem to understand how it works. Then the subject shifts to local tensions: the western Highlands Kingdoms and the eastern Lowland Kingdoms. There is no outright war but there are disputes over trade and raids. The two decide to find work there.

Prestige Summary

Carn
Beginning Prestige: 19
+5 for 10k characters
-10 for Creating an adjacent minor Holy Order: the Redspears
Ending Prestige: 14

Auriëlle
Beginning Prestige: 9
+5 for 10K characters
-5 for Creating an adjacent minor Holy Order: the Redspears
Ending Prestige: 9

Divinus: The God RP, Mk. IV

Auriëlle

Auriëlle hated the road and hated the small, constricting villages she was forced to visit between Acadia and Ketrefa. The muddy, dirty places were disgusting. Yet she needed shelter and food. When she first ran away, she just stole some farm-daughter’s clothes that hung out to dry. These days she made her money in a different way. She entered the local tavern. Up north those were the places you went to meet people, or to be met. The second she took her place in front of the hearth and paid for her watered down wine (she hated ale), three local thugs approached her. How could they not? She was unlike any woman they’ve ever met. Nice looking, homely, with that one scar on her cheek that showed that she wasn’t afraid to get into trouble. One side of her fiery red hair was braided and was used to tie the rest of her hair into a pony tail. The copper knife on her hip was just cherry on the pie.

“So what’s a pretty lil’ lady like you doin’ in a place like Norfulk, eh?” The stick-thin thug asked as he took his place in front of her.

Auriëlle had seen it all. It made her tired. So instead of answering she opened her hand and let a flame burst forth from it. Then she grabbed her mug of wine and took a small sip. “Let’s skip the introductions and the comments, shall we. I’ve already heard it a thousand times” She said with a disinterested tone. When she was twenty and just ran off, the comments some men threw her way were disgusting. Why did they talk to a woman that way? After two years she got used to it. Somewhat. “You’ve got a job for me, now that you know I’m a sorceress. So tell me what it is so I can get paid and leave this shithole.”

The thugs looked at each other. Auriëlle often told herself she could smell their fear. That wasn’t entirely true, but she saw it. They were tense. One was nearly gripping his club. She didn’t want to fight. Not here. She wanted to sleep. But she would if they were stupid enough to take a swing at her.

The leading thug spat on the ground and then said: “Fine. I’ve gotta customer not payin’. I need you to convince ‘im. Think you can handle it?”

Auriëlle downed her wine and got up. “Just point me in the right direction.”

Minutes later and under the cover of dusk, Auriëlle made her way to the house. It smelled nice. From the stall outside she could see bits and pieces of herbs laying around. She hated bullying herbalists. They were often the cleverest people in a village. Some could even write. Gods how she missed writing and reading now. One time she had met a herbalist kneeling in the middle of the woods and praying. Some of them were very, very odd. She politely knocked on the door. After some time and some rustling behind the hinges, it opened up slightly.

“Come back tomorrow.” A man behind the door said.

He tried to slam the door shut again but it was blocked by Auriëlle’s foot. “I need to settle a debt.” She could basically hear the man swallow behind the door. He opened the door more and opened his mouth but Auriëlle was ahead of him: “I don’t need your excuses. Just the coins.”

“And why should I give it to you?” The man was about mid-thirty. Strong, with a few more scars on his arms than Auriëlle. His rather rugged appearance told Auriëlle that he used to fight. A lot. Maybe a wandering boxer or a militia volunteer.

She raised her arm and sparks of lighting arched between her fingers. “Just give me the money. We can both walk-“ A fist cut her off. She took it straight in the face. Before she knew it she was down into the muddy ground. Something hot dripped from her nose. Instinctively she rolled. Just in time. The man had jumped where she was a second ago. She put one hand on his shoulder and pushed the lighting through him. He couldn’t even scream out in pain. His entire body locked up and then fell flat into the mud.

Auriëlle got up and kicked him on his back. “Idiot! I could’ve killed you!”

“But you didn’t.” the man said in between coughs. “I can’t pay you.”

Auriëlle ignored him and turned towards the opened door. Where two little kids, neither more than eight, appeared in the doorway. “Daddy is everything okay?” One asked. Auriëlle stopped in her tracks. “Go to mommy.” She said, hoping to get the kids out of the way as she forced the man to pay up. The job didn’t pay enough to deal with children. Nothing would pay enough.

“We’ve got no mommy.” The youngest said.

Great! Perfect. Wonderful! Cadien’s Curse, she just couldn’t get a break! All she wanted was to sit back for a night and then sleep on something else than moss with a belly that was filled with an actual meal. Yet here she was in the dusk, in a mud street beating up the only parent of two.

The man got up, but didn’t try to attack her again. He just pleaded with her: “Please don’t take my money. It’s all I have! Tell them I’ll pay later. My kids, they need to eat. Please.”

“Shut up.” Auriëlle mumbled under her breath as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “I have an idea. Give me any coins you can spare now. I don’t care how much it is. Just give them to me.”

Half an hour later she walked back into the tavern. Nobody cared that she was half-covered in mud. The fact that they didn’t care was even more reason for her to hate this place. She approached the three thugs and dropped the very light sack onto their table. “The debt’s settled.”

One thug lifted the purse and dropped it again on the table. Now the three thugs could clearly hear the lack of many metal clangs. “No it isn’t.” The leader shot back. “What? I told you clearly how many coins he owed us.”

Auriëlle took a chair from one of the tables and seated her near the thugs their table. She peered into the three candles lit on the table. They grew large and hot. Some fire jumped from one candle to the other. Just three years ago she couldn’t do that. Now she did it because she wanted it to happen. There was no spell. No runes or hand signs. It was just her, wanting something to happen. “I could burn all three of your faces off right here, right now if I wanted to.” She said as she kept peering into the candle lit fire. “Now tell me his debt is settled.”

All three of them released an annoyed grunt, but knew she probably wasn’t kidding. So they just nodded.

“Good.” Auriëlle took the purse off the table and put it in her own mantle’s inner pocket. “Payment for my services.” She said with a tone that would not accept any discussion about it. This annoyed the three thugs even more.

“And finally, you three are going to swear you’re not going to bother that man again. You’ll swear it on Tekret. Do you understand?”

The three thugs shared some wild eyed looks with each other. A small grin formed on Auriëlle’s face. She knew what would happen if she just got up and left tomorrow. By the time it was lunch time, the herbalist would be bleeding on his own floor. She made that mistake before. Never again. Priests of Tekret told her that swearing something on Tekret’s name drew the god’s attention. Making the agreement binding on a divine level. She wasn’t sure how much to believe of that. The past twenty years she wasn’t so sure about any of the gods. What mattered now was that the thugs believed it.

“Swear it and I won’t have to make sure you don’t become an issue in the future.” Auriëlle pressured them.

One by one they gave in and nodded. When all three had nodded they said: “We swear on Tekret that we won’t bother Horace again.”

“Pleasure doing business with you, gentlemen.” Auriëlle said, as she got up and walked up to the bar. She dropped the small purse on the counter and said: “A bed for the night.”

The bartender lifted the coin purse, then emptied its contend on the counter. It wasn’t much but he shoved a few coppers back her way. Which she quickly pocketed. He also bit down on one silver piece to check it. Then he gave her a grunt of acceptance and motioned her to follow him upstairs to her room.

Summary

Auriëlle grew up and became a travelling sorceress for hire. Though she hates the muddy, small, ugly towns she has to walk and work in. She gets a job from some local thugs to gather some debt from someone. That person ends up being a father of two with no mother in sight. So instead of taking all his money, she only takes what he can spare and then forces the thugs to agree that the debt is settled. Then she also forces them to swear on Tekret that they won’t bother the man again. She pockets the few coins they got to settle his debt to cover the expense of her service and uses it to get a room.

Prestige

Post length: 7.8K Words
+ 4 Prestige >> Auriëlle

Divinus: The God RP, Mk. IV

Auriëlle

Her whole live Auriëlle was told she would achieve greatness. Family and blood meant a lot in Acadia. Even from before she was born, the priests claimed she was destined for greatness. Her father’s bloodline could be traced back to the few mighty warriors that stood with the Flameweaver herself. Their family history is drenched in Iskrill blood. Every boy born in that family is destined to one day die and be buried with the bones and skulls of their vanquished foes. On her mother’s side the blood of Simain herself coursed through their veins.

By all portents, believes and laws of Acadia, Auriëlle should have become the most talented and powerful mage of her generation. The one of whom bards would sing songs until the end of times. She would be blessed by Cadien with unrivaled beauty and by Aurius with endless magical prowess. In secret, crusaders were already being palnned with her at the spear’s tip long before she was born. The Iskrill would burn. All of them and the vile land of the Abberant would burn with them. Her name would be known from the sun touched plains to the far east to the massive mountains in the south.

In the end, she turned out to be a huge disappointment. Auriëlle did not make fire or cast magic at a young age. The anticipation began to crumble when she showed no aptitude for her ancestor’s spells. In fact, she even lacked the fighting spirit that came with the fierce blood of both her parents. Instead she preferred to spend her time laying in the grass and look up to the sky.

Time moved on. Even though she had shown no talent for magic, she was still to be trained as a mage. For a while at least. Acadia had no patience for lackluster results though. At an embarrassingly young age Auriëlle’s training stopped and she was deemed unsuited as a mage. Her parents, ashamed, could not risk her to be seen in the public too much. They hired tutors to learn her the details of writing. It crumbled the last bits of her own confidence. At age twenty now, Auriëlle’s entire life could be found on her scribe desk. Being a scribe so young was terrible. She wasn’t copying the epic poems or the knowledge of spells. She was just adding up and archiving how many sheep were born and slaughtered each year.

At night she felt so bad that she just couldn’t go to sleep. Her dreams would confront her with her own failure, again and again. So instead she trekked up the hill, towards the sacred grove. A place where all other mages would train during the day. It wasn’t too far away from the city but she had to evade the estate where the soon-to-be mages resided before they would take their final test: to kill a wolf. She hated that estate. She hated it so much she wanted to burn it all. Because getting kicked out had made her the black sheep to her age-mates. Every girl that could fling fire like it was a stone began to laugh in her face whenever they saw her out in the market. Auriëlle tried to turn the other cheek and not let it get to her. But there was only so much laughter she could take until it began to chip away at her.

So now she was going to show all of them. Several stone rings were spread around the clearing. They were filled with hay and wood to light up. Everything else was black of the fire that burned so often in this place. From the grove on the hill you could clearly see Acadia off in the distance. It looked beautiful but every night she crawled up so high, she began to doubt if she could call it home. Sadly there was nowhere else to be for. So she put her bag down and pulled out the clay tablet detailing the immolation spell. It was a trusted, constant if not vexing friend in these trying times. For half a year she had trudged up the hill to practice it. To no avail. Yet she pushed on. It should’ve been a simple spell: just three small hand signs. Yet she just could light a flame.

~

Through the winds of magic, Qael’Naath had been observing Acadia for some time now. Their mages were gifted. Especially with fire, though they never limited themselves to just that. Which gained his admiration. Magic in the other cities was used, yes, but never to a scale as here. It deserved encouragement. From high up, he had observed how the aspirants trained their magic in a clearing near a creek. At night it was abandoned. Giving him the perfect opportunity to bestow his gift and slip back into the endlessly shifting colors in the skies. The Winds flew until they were over the clearing. To its magical senses, there was no-one there. The obelisk began to take shape amid the gaseous form. It was made of jet-black marble with white veins running through it. There were no other markings or runes. Slowly it descended from the heavens, until the last few meters. The fall dug it deep into the earth. Then he blessed it.

~

Auriëlle barely saw the obelisk coming before it fell. The shockwave billowed up dust and earth, which coated her entire dress. When it all settled she cursed and sunk to her knees. Great! Now her her dress was dirty also! She was on the edge of sobbing when a sudden sense of warmth overwhelmed her. The hollow pit in her stomach vanished. It was filled with something else, something overwhelming.

Then, the shades appeared. At first she only thought she saw them in the corners of her eyes. She turned around, but there was nothing there. She thought she heard footsteps behind her and turned again. Nothing but night. Something whispered. It moved just on the edges of what she could see. Then she turned again. There it stood. An Iskrill, or what looked like one at least. It looked like it was made of black forge smoke. It hissed at her. Auriëlle began to slowly back away as the shadowy creature approached her. Others appeared from the corner of her eyes. Some crouched down to approach here. How did they pass the guards? How did they get so close to Acadia!? Auriëlle didn’t want to know the answers, but her mind was already imagining the corpses of the guards. Blood and entrails everywhere. She would’ve puked if she wasn’t running. She hated all this violence, why couldn’t the Iskrill and humans just talk it out!?

Well she would’ve loved to ask that question to the shadowy monsters growling behind but that very growl told her that it would rather snack on her than talk. She just had to reach the estate down the hill. She could already see the lights of the hearths inside. It was close. They would save her! Then she tripped.

She fell down face first into the mud. Time felt as if it slowed down. In that split second a thousand thoughts coursed through her mind. She would die here. Away from everyone. Away from her mother, who she loved so much. Away from her grumpy father. She just wanted to say goodbye one more time. She closed her eyes, not so much to resign to her fate as to not have to watch whatever was following her. She just wanted it to be gone. She wanted those dark things to burn like they burned in the stories.

She felt nothing. Not a claw or the warmth of her blood. Did she die and go to heaven? Slowly she opened her eyes again. If it was heaven, it looked a lot more muddy than she thought it would. Auriëlle turned over and the shadowy things were gone. She got up again and looked around her, but then a shadowy figure appeared off in the distance again.

It was too much. “Just die! Burn!” She shouted with all the might in her lungs as tears coursed off her cheeks. She wasn’t sure if she shouted it at the monster before her or at herself. Probably both. At least one person’s wishes would be granted tonight. She closed her eyes again, ready to take the claws. Then she felt the sudden heat on her face. She opened her eyes to see the shadowy Iskrill trashing and screaming as fire just appeared on its body and consumed it entirely. Yet it made not a single sound. The fires raged higher and brighter for a moment, then vanished entirely. They didn’t even leave ash of the thing.

“Did I… do that?” She asked herself as she looked at her hands. They were dirty dirty but it didn’t matter. She turned towards the house again. Things began to move inside. She could see the torches coming outside.

She only felt hate. For years they bullied her, taunted her, embarrassed her. For a split second she really did want to burn down the entire estate. To take her vengeance. The second she thought it, she pushed it away. No! She didn’t want to do that but she couldn’t stay now. Not with the power she had now.

Then her gut collapsed again. Did she really want to become the next Simain? The moment her parents would notice she could make fire so easily, they would insist she resumed her training as a mage. Did she want to fight in the mud and the rain against the same horrific things as one she just killed? Suddenly everything she hated about being a scribe felt so welcoming. The indoor warmth of a hearth, not being bothered by anyone. She even got paid decently well. It wasn’t perfect but it was a good life. That was gone too now. She just couldn’t return. So instead she got up and ran away. She would ran as far as her legs would carry her, which was further than most would expect but she was, after all, still Acadian.

A white humanoid figure made of dense mist appeared just behind her but Auriëlle never saw her. The figure was that of a woman, who waved her goodbye. “Be seeing you, Auriëlle. It’s a shame you couldn’t stay. I could’ve helped you.” Then she dissolved again.

Summary

Auriëlle is a girl that should’ve become a great hero of Acadia. Her father comes from a line of mighty warriors and her mother of the Flameweaver herself. Yet she sucks at magic and spells. So she had to become a scribe. She never gave up though and at night she crawls up the hill to go to the place where everyone practices magic during the day to train herself. Qael’Naath doesn’t detect her and creates an obelisk which he drops on the land and then blesses.

Auriëlle sees shadows of the Iskrill and runs but trips. When she gets back up the shadowy figures are gone. Then the reappear again. Auriëlle had enough and uses sorcery to burn one down to the ground. It works but she realizes this power is greater than she thought it would be. She doesn’t want to return home and be forced to go on long marches and fight monsters. So she decides to run away.

MP, DP & Prestige

Qael’Naath Start: 5MP/5DP
- 2 MP & 1DP >> Consecrate the Obelisk

Obelisk of Acadia

A gift of Qael’Naath to the aspiring mages of Acadia. The Obelisk has a circle of influence (radius= 30m) around it where shadowy creatures can spawn in for mages to practice on. This gives them a safe place to practice their spells. The shadow’s lifelike shapes are meant to emulate a real enemy. During training mistakes can happen and fear may overwhelm even the bravest mages without real consequences. Yet on a battlefield such a thing would be disastrous.

Cassiné is the “semi-consciousness” that controls the Obelisk. While she appears human, friendly and capable of some emotions like pride, she is ultimately a ghostly automaton created for the students and mages to take questions about the obelisk. Like how long it will take until the ward is restored after it is shattered or to stop the creation of shadows for a moment.

Cassiné I – The gentle voice of the Obelisk. Within the Obelisk’s circle of influence she can appear as in a humanoid mist form to give pointers and help to those who practice magic within the circle. She knows every spell that they intend to cast and will point out tiny details that might help the spell to be cast. Her gentle mannerism and endless patience allows for even the slowest students to learn their spells under her tutelage. (1MP)

Shadow spawner I – Shadows of a student’s worst enemy are spawned within the circle’s radius. These shadows are made of black gas and cannot hurt you in any way. Yet they look very much like the real thing. They cannot be destroyed using mundane means but are highly suspectable to magic. The shadows spawn depending on the potential power of the student within the circle. Smart and experienced students will cause more aggressive and fast shadows to spawn. (1 MP)

Warded Space I – A ward exists at the end of the radius of the Obelisk’s influence. The ward is an orb around the whole area and blocks the spells that are cast from within. Should a spell go haywire or fireback, it wouldn’t hurt anyone outside the radius. Very strong spells (like entire inferno’s) will cause the ward to crack and eventually shatter. Once shattered, it takes over a week before the ward is fully restored again. (1DP)

- 1 DP >> Consecrate Auriëlle

Auriëlle

The girl that should have been a prodigy. She was accidentally blessed by Qael’Naath when he created the Obelisk of Acadia.
Hekatiah I – Auriëlle is a gifted sorceress now. Sorcery becomes easier for her to use and more effective. Her powers don’t rival that of a spell just yet.(1DP)

Qael’Naath Start: 3MP/3DP

Prestige: 9.4K characters
+4 Prestige >> Auriëlle

Divinus: The God RP, Mk. IV

Emissaries in Sancta Civitas

When a druid entered Sancta Civitas, all Eloxochitli knew instantly that something had changed. As if a bead of nothingness entered the elsewise filled city. He wasn’t hard to track down, though the Itztli kept a safe distance as they observed the strange goblin that had entered the city. He didn’t look like he originated from Sancta Civitas. Yet he didn’t look like danger either. He just smiled, bought some food and then went to a local gathering hole where he apparently just told stories of faraway lands. Normal visitors of the hole just listened, smiled and laughed but the Itztli remembered every word the stranger said. So they could recite it to the Mantarin scribes later. When the time was right, they asked the druid if they could ask him some questions.

The druid, thankfully, accepted and was escorted to The Library. Where a room had been prepared. He was asked to sit on a chair in the middle of the room, standing on an elevated podium so everyone could hear and see him. He refused though and just sat cross-legged on the podium before the chair. Mantarin scribes were asked to take note of literally every word he said or almost said. For the stranger was unlike anything they had ever seen before. Then the endless flow of questions came. Who he was, what his name was, where he came from. Some questions the druid preferred not to answer and the Eloxochitl didn’t push it. He wanted the goblin to be as comfortable as possible.

Then the subject turned to the stories of his travels. The Itztli assumed most of it had to be fake. Yet his detailed knowledge of the other islands of Mydia changed that opinion quickly. The Eloxochitl was only interested in the local magical customs but the Mantarin scribes were becoming very interested now. They even took the questioning over for a moment. The goblin druid was happy to answer their questions about the surrounding islands as well. In fact, he even shared some crude maps he managed to draw. Which were swiftly copied by the talented scribes.

One word kept popping up though. ‘Hir’. It wasn’t the source. As the Eloxochitl understood it, it was a key of sorts. Something that allowed him to grow the grass and read the stars. Apparently it did come with a whole row of duties and demands. In fact, apparently sitting there and answering questions as part of his duties: to help everyone he meets. The Emissaries were a uniquely curious bunch. Because every act of magic must have been impossible for the druid. Yet he talked about growing plants for animals to feed on so they wouldn’t starve in the winter. Eventually, the request came to see some of these powers and then the druid completely blocked up. He said that needless, useless usage of druidic powers completely wrong and forbidden. It should always help someone or something. The questions changed then: when would he bless something else again?

Luckily for them, the druid had plans to bless a few fields outside the city tomorrow. This was deemed acceptable by the Eloxochitl who made sure he would be up early enough in the morning to witness these so-called favors.

Then the last question came. It was, perhaps, the strangest one for the druid, who still happily obliged. They went back to the large, main hall of The Library. Where the Vessels floated high up in the air and ask the druid to think of one of the acts he performed. Instantly a Vessel shot off towards the druid and coated both his tiny, goblin hands. The only thing the druid could describe it as was a wet feeling. The Eloxochitl accompanying him ushered him towards one of the side rooms where just flat, solitary walls stood like bookcases. The druid touched one of the walls and the Vessel coating his hands instantly attached itself to the wall. It spread out, covering the whole side of the wall in glimmering light, before fading and leaving behind a vast painting.

It was now the druid’s time for amazement, as he recognized what the mural depicted: the first time he drank from the Hir. He had traveled across Mydia, on board of ships to jump from island to island in search of it. Deep inside he had battled with himself, trying to confront himself with the idea that he might never find the sacred horn. Yet one night he encountered a real druid, who had drunk from the horn and felt the embrace of the gods. He too was of a wanderer sort and told him to look at it from a different point. He should be happy that he could help so many people even without the gods their power. Once he accepted that, life became easier. He tended to the wounded and the weak, hoping he would find the Hir but fully realizing and accepting that he might never succeed in that mission. Until he did find the Hir and drank from it. That was the end of what the Mural had depicted.

The Eloxochitl was perhaps as confused and surprised as the druid.

~

The compound the Emissaries had made was located closer to The Library than the western wall. It was quite a large building, to still very small compared with local palaces and temples. It housed all the Emissaries and their things. The Itztli slept on simple beds made of straw. While the Eloxochitli slept in small, shallow baths that fit exactly one of them. Below the compound, there was a rather large cave that was being filled with yellow and white gold they Emissaries were slowly but surely hoarding. So far only a few nuggets were places there. Deeper in the artificial cave you could find another cave with a carved pool in the middle of it. In the corners, Itztli eggs rested and in the pool round, Eloxochitli eggs laid submerged. A flame was kept lit in a brazier to keep the whole cave warm.

The Itztli were currently mostly working near one of the western gates, where they also lived with some Mantarin. It hadn’t taken long to convince the Sancta Civitas bureaucrats that massive granaries would have to be build so all the produce could be stored there. Once the plans, designed by the Emissaries and the city’s architects together, were accepted, the building began. Deep pits were dug into the ground. Entire trees were carried through the gatehouse. From them huge beams were chopped and placed into the ground. Meanwhile, pottery workshops sprouted up around the granary. Producing more and more amphoras and pithoi to fill with goods. The granary began taking shape as a structure elevated up from the ground. The main barn-like doors were large enough for two carts side by side to move inside. The entire first floor was left empty With ramps going upwards on both sides. The first floor held hundreds and hundreds of little sections separated by thin walls. Each ready to be filled with the pottery containing various amounts of food to be gently rolled down the ramp down. More ramps climbed upwards. Going to the floors upwards. Where hexagonal sections were already being made with natural wax from the Vespians. The upper sections would look more and more like full hives.

Meanwhile, in the compound, several Eloxochitli was diligently at work crafting the small, wooden eagle statuettes. Each piece would be carved from a single piece of rowan wood and each feather on the eagle would bear a unique rune. Which would bind the winds and push them forward. The statuettes were intended to be gifts for Kallak’s ships he would create. When placed upon the stern of the ship and activated, the bound winds would be blown into the sails. Ensuring swift travels. The statuettes could work for days on end, lest they would catch fire but it would still be a valuable tool.

And so many more projects gained shape. Several of the Emissaries had continued their teaching of magic to those chosen worthy enough by the Sancta Civitas bureaucracy. The Eloxochitl teaching spells cared little for the mechanics behind the choosing of their students. Meanwhile, a handful of Itztli were training some truly courageous goblins in the sorcerous arts. Finally, two Eloxochitli were doing nothing but imbuing the Vessels of The Library with their magical knowledge and storing away the result. Several rooms had already been completely filled with clay tablets.

Summary

A druid of the Circle of Guiding Lights entered Sancta Civitas. Emissaries instantly know something’s up and ask him if they can ask him some questions. He accepts and the questions are asked in The Library. Where the druid happily obliges but refuses to actually showcase any powers. Then they implore him to try and fill a vessel, which he does. The result is a mural of him drinking from the Hir. The knowledge of how to become a druid of the Guiding Lights has now been eternalized.

Meanwhile the Itztli builders are helping to build a very large granary/hive near one of the western gates. So plenty of produce can be stored there.

And finally the Eloxochitli are crafting small statuettes of eagles with runes on them. These eagles, when activated, would push the wind forward. They are intended to be put on the stern of ships so when the wind is weak, these statuettes can be used to push the ship forward still. Also, several Itztli and Eloxochitli are teaching magic and are filling the library with their own spells.

Prestige

Post Length: 7.6K words
+ 4 Prestige >> Sancta Civitas
+ 4 Prestige >> The Emissaries
+ 4 Prestige >> Circle of the Guiding Light
- 5 Prestige: Improving an existing settlement >> The Emissaries

Divinus: The God RP, Mk. IV

“How has it been, old friend?” A gentle but disembodied voice said to Orb. Who was comfortably waiting in a sack until he could continue on his teachings. He instantly recognized the voice as that of his creator.

“It’s been going well, sir.” The cheery if not excessively single-minded creation said. “Lucia has made great progress across the past 730.533 cycles. She even made progress into her own kind of spells. As a teacher, I must say that I am very proud of her achievement.”

Qael’Naath knew that those weren’t genuine feelings. Orb was simply created with a set of mimicked feelings from mortals. Someone having a sense of pride in you makes you feel good about yourself. To the god of magic it was simply toying with the chemicals of mortals but Orb didn’t know that. To orb, what he felt was not a falsehood created to make others happy students. It was as real and genuine as anything else. Sadly if it was ever compared to a real mortals emotions, it would look nothing alike.

“Good.” The god of magic said. “Very good. Where are you now Orb?”

“In a sack, sir.” Orb answered in a matter of fact way.

This took the Winds of Magic, and Qael by extension, by surprise. Did Lucia put him in a sack when she was done with him? No, no she was far too kind for that. Something else had to have put him in there. “Why are you in a sack? Who put you there?”

“I don’t know sir.” Orb answered.

“How did you even end up there? How long have you been in there?”

“I don’t know sir.”

Qael let out a sigh. Of course, Orb was nothing more than a strict automaton who teaches magic and nothing more. The journal he kept only detailed magical teachings and progress. Nothing else. For a moment he wondered if he should elevate Orb’s consciousness and thus make him more free to make his own decisions. But no, that would defeat his purpose all together. Nor was it his duty to defend himself. He was Lucia’s responsibility. He would have to ask her why exactly he was put in a sack. For now, he simply poured his own divine knowledge into the very willing vessel. Orb’s externals and internals quickly changed to accept the divine knowledge. Inside it was all catalogued and neatly stored for future teachings. On his shell, this change was shown as runes appearing on his shell.

When the god of magic was done, he did desire to leave a message. It felt like a strange desire. Something a mortal would feel. Yet Lucia had told him to care and oddly enough he found himself caring for Lucia now. At least a little bit. “Orb. I need you to do one more thing. I want you to pass Lucia a message when she finds you.”

“I am not made to store messages, sir. I can only made to teach magic.” Orb responded.

“Just make it happen, Orb.” Qael said.

Several of Orb’s new runes lit up across his shell for a moment and then faded again. “I can take your message now, sir.”

“Tell her-“ What really was he going to tell her? He had no clue. It all felt so strange. “Tell her I hope she is doing well and that she’s happy. I’m still grateful for our conversation and I’m doing my best to learn how to care. Though it isn’t easy for a god like me. Tell her I will always listen to her prayers. Tell her I miss her and I hope I could talk to her again soon.”

“I will relay your message to Lucia then, sir.” Orb said in confirmation. But the link between creator and creation was already severed.

---

Toraan had Orb. Sooner or later some mages would ask him to settle down with them. Creating the second epicenter of magical knowledge in this world. Mydia was blessed with the first: The Library. A place where people could store their spells for all eternity. One region of Galbar remained devoid of magical support though: Kubrajzar. It was, in fact, a region that Qael’Naath himself hadn’t paid much attention to even before he vanished. Now that he looked upon it, he really should have. Somehow his Itztli were there yet without a single Eloxochitli to lead them. For a moment he feared they would’ve descended into barbarism.

Nothing appeared further from the truth. While their cottages and adobes were humble and small, their grand pyramids rose proud beyond the canopy of the jungle. Massive irrigation channels had been dug out and fortified. Allowing food to grow in abundance. Obelisks lined the main roads and within the barracks he saw how they fought: with magic and weapons combined as one. With every strike a blast echoed yet the force was deflected not only with their shields but with their wills. Every strike, every defense was an move of both sorcerous magic and physical brawn.

There was one thing missing though: spells. Despite their innate connection to mana and sorcery, it would seem that the priests had barely begun to understand the concept of spells. Like the monuments they build, the Itztli were strong and mighty but crude and lacked elegance. It would not do. They needed help to create their spells.

~

It was on a morning in the early parts of the Cycle that Sekhem woke up and found the Prism of Omathaequai.

Summary

Qael’Naath connects with Orb and ask how things are. Orb says Lucia has grown as a mage and he’s quite proud of it. Even though he is an unfeeling automaton. When Qael asks where he is, he answers that he is in a sack. When the god of magic asks why, how, who, Orb simply answers that he doesn’t know. Qael gives Orb the knowledge of spells to teach and then also leaves a message of Lucia.

After his little reconnection with Orb, he creates a third important object for magic, which is named the Prism of Omathaequai.

MP, DP & Prestige

Qael’Naath start: 4MP/5DP
- 1 DP: advance title on Orb: Magic Mentor III: When the pupil has a good grasp on both the inner workings of sorcery and mana, Orb will commence his in-depth teachings on the four frameworks to cast spells: incantation, somatic, iconographic and materialistic spells. He will only accept a pupil’s education is finished when they are capable of using each framework fluidly but also in combination of each other.
- 2 DP: Create the “Prism of Omathaequai”

Prism of Omathaequai

Spell-Forge II – The Prism can open up and shows the structures and shapes mana takes when creating a spell within the Prism. Showing what specific instructions work and which don’t. For example: the instruction to extract fuel from stone for a fire would fail to be made, while the instruction to take fuel from wood would be successful. Specifically, structures of light form to represent the various instructions clarified through common symbols (like a raindrop for water) or a few words written in the first language the owner (the person who last touched it) has learned. When the created constructions are combined to make the spell, those instructions that would fail light up red indicating the error. When a spell is complete, the structures of light form a complete circular shape through which lines of mana flow constantly. The opened prism would create an area in which the light can be shown that is about 50cm to 50cm to 20cm.

_{Spells portfolio: 5/5}
- 3 MP: Adopt the “Spells” portfolio
Qael’Naath end: 1MP/2DP

Orb:
- 1 Prestige: A small impressive feat beyond their established abilities: Relay a literal message from Qael to Lucia exactly once.
End prestige: 9

Divinus: The God RP, Mk. IV

Itztli of the Great Lake in Kubrajzar

The cities had fought. Prisoners were taken and their blood was fed to Ohae. So the circle started anew. Warriors hung up their weapons and took up the plows. While priests of the Mother Pool began to bless the artificial islands doting the coastline near Aklux. Even the magical teachings of Omathaequai were suspended for now was a time of hard work and regrowth.

Istril had felt uncomfortable for the last few months of the cycle. He knew his brother and sisters somehow reveled within the wanton warring. As a youngling, he too wanted to pick up a sword and charge headfirst into the enemy. These days the sight of blood upset his stomach. He knew Ohae, goddess of light and war, required it to defeat the World-Eater. Yet it still didn’t feel right to him. He wanted to no part in that. Nor did he participate in the great revelries that followed. The stain of blood was too fresh upon the Great Pyramid.

Yet two weeks later, the first petitions came from the various priesthoods. For Istril was blessed by the gods to heal the land. When he came out of his adobe before dawn, various offerings of fruit and meat laid before his door in bowls. He smiled. Even without the offerings, he would have gladly helped everyone. He took the bowls inside the shade and cooked the meat as breakfast while Ohae rose up once more. When he came out once more, the various priesthoods’ representatives stood before his remote adobe.

“Pthin Istril. The fields need your blessings. Aklux has grown during the year once more and the harvest may not falter. Lest hundreds suffer famine.” One said. He was an acolyte of the Mother Pool. Then he bowed and stepped aside so the next petitioner could be heard. “Pthin Istril. The spirits are still quickened from the Day of the Sun. We ask you to calm them.” Then the next came. “Pthin Istril. I-I come with a request from the gibbon-god.” The acolyte was practically shaking. Suddenly Istril noticed the glares of the other petitioners threw him. He was not even 40, how could he be an acolyte of the moon? “Come inside. We can talk in private. For the rest of you: I shall bless the fields after Ohea reached her peak. The spirits will calm down.” The acolytes bowed and left. Except for the one frightened one.

He entered the shadowy adobe and was quickly followed by Istril. Who had to tell him to take a seat even. “So what is it you need, master-?” He asked with a genuine smile.

“My name is Khaten but I’m not a priest. I-I’m sorry Pthin. I have come under false pretenses.” He confessed. Istril could almost imagine his heart beating. “The gibbon-god does not require your attention today. The bodies are being buried well. I have come because…” The Itztl was almost shivering now. Tears were pooling in his eyes. “Because I’m a failure!” he finally blurted out, before he threw his face into his hands and cried. “Omathaequai surely cursed me! I cannot even weave a hex!” He managed to say in between sobs. “This year I am supposed to march with the Qadesh to fight alongside them and capture my own sacrifices but I’m useless!”

Istril slowly padded him on the back but waited. He knew well how painful that felt. Because 60 years ago he felt the same pain. He too thought he was cursed by Omathaequai. He had cried and ran away. He swam into the Mother Pool and begged her to drown him. Nothing happened. Then prayed for a sign. For something to help him. He had been good and pious. Every day he prayed to Ohae and the Mother Pool. Every dusk he prayed to the gibbon-god and the Star Serpent. He danced with great joy and abandon around Meghzaal’s temples and even learned how to write to appease Omathaequai, which was not a cheap thing to do for a commoner he was at the time.

“You know how I became who I am now?” He asked, as the acolyte calmed down and whipped away his tears. He shook his head. “I was once like you. I couldn’t Weave with the Gift. I had prayed and cried. Begging the gods to hear me. Then one day…I think they did.” Istril said with a small, melancholic smile. The day he found that horn in a shallow pool was perhaps the happiest day in his life. He had cherished that horn, but only a few days later it was gone. It had just vanished. “I found a horn in a small, reflective pool. It wasn’t there before. It just…appeared.”

“Why do you think you were chosen?” The acolyte asked.

Priests of Ohae had demanded he would lie about such a question. Gods chose the strong and the mighty. The rainbow eyes were living, breathing proof of that. Which each one being born, new ways of Weaving were created. Yet this wasn’t the truth for him. It could never be. “I just… did my best to do good. To work hard. I fed the animals, even the wild ones I encountered in the jungle. I sang and danced as Meghzaal asks of us all.” Truly, he wasn’t special. Not more special than some others. He never took captives in his life. He never drew blood or stole from another city. “Just live a good life. That in itself will be enough. You don’t need to become like me. I know that’s what you want to ask me but I can’t give you the answers. Just know that the gods are more generous than they appear.”

A sniffling acolyte nodded. “I will try. Thank you Pthin. I won’t forget your kindness.”

Istril just offered him a kind smile. They both exited it and went to their duties. The acolyte would return to the burial pits. While Istril headed for the fields. There was lots of work to do but first, with foodbowl under his arm, he would spread the gifts of food the petitioners had brought him amongst the poor. He didn’t need all that food anyway.

~

The market was bursting at its seams today. Artisans from other cities had come in to sell the last bits of their wares before the seeding of the fields began. Sadly, there were also many beggars lined against the wall. Begging for scraps of food to survive. Most of the artisans and shoppers passed them as if they did not exist. They preferred to barter and trade their own creations for those of others. Pots were exchanged for copper knives without a care given to the maimed. Istril knew it was wrong, yet also a part long ingrained within Aklux’s way of life. To be poor, hungry or maimed is a punishment of the gods. Still, he crouched next to each one of them and offered them a piece of fruit. “Go with the gods.” He said every time he handed over his own food. His bowl was nearly empty when he heard that familiar sound of commotion behind him.

People were gasping, then moving aside. The drone of heavy march reverberated through the ground. He didn’t even need to turn around to see who was approaching him. Yet he did, ready to face the oncoming storm. “We meet again, master Sekhem.” Istril said with a genuine smile.

The iztl escorted by four of the Qadesh, those of the nobility who dedicated their lives to Ohae’s aspect of war and dressed in highly polished, sun reflecting brass. He was dressed in white robes with a purple trim and wore jewelry of various gemstones. Yet his eyes were his true symbol of status: they were rainbow colored. “How many times must you lower yourself to this useless scum?” He asked with no small amount of disdain for the beggars he did not even want to look upon. “You are god-blessed. A Pthin for the love Omathaequai! Would you start acting like it? You are supposed to be blessing the fields and calming the spirits. Not bother with these leeches of the world. Start doing your duty to this city!”

“I am doing my duty.” Istril calmly retorted. “These people deserve food too. The fields will be blessed and the spirits calmed.” Something deep down in Istril wanted to challenge Sekhem. He had the king’s ear. How could he let his own people live I poverty? But no, despite their almost constant confrontations, Istril did understand Sekhem’s position. Unlike himself, Sekhem sat at court. He had many responsibilities. Which meant that he could be blamed for many failings as well. As sad as his disdain for the poor was, even he was just doing a job. Even he was just a another wheel that made the cart move. “But if you insist then I will go to the fields now.” He gave Sekhem a small yet polite bow and left once more with an empty bowl under his hands.

Sekhem knew it wasn’t the end of it. His brothers and sisters in the other great cities had been talking about the Pthins more and more. They were rare, very rare and a great boon to any city. Yet almost always were they born from a weakness: their failure to Weave the Gift. Worse, some had challenged the wisdom of the gods. One even dared to say that Ohae was not bloodthirsty at all. Such fools, how could she not? How much more proof did they need. High Priest Khentii had demonstrated her need for mortal blood two weeks ago to fend off the World-Eater. Sekhem would pray tonight that Istril would not spout the same blasphemy. Heret’s laws had to be upheld and equal for all. Even a Pthin.

~

The fields outside of Aklux were a marvel in of themselves. Not one as big as the Great Pyramid of Ohae but still, it was a testament to the city’s greatness. Grand canals, flanked by large, rectangularly carved stones to keep the banks for collapsing, allowed small boats carrying seeds, mud, people and tools to go and come from the irrigated fields. In the distance a mason-master and field-lord were overseeing the construction of an expansion of the canals and it’s irrigation water ways. While Itztli dressed in nothing but loincloths were digging out the earth. Istril knew that from across the lake, in the city of Habsut, gold would be traded for stone and then slowly shipped over. It was always busy but so early in the Cycle it was even more so. More fields had to be created and the jungle had to be pushed back to free up the land.

A boat was waiting. Perhaps for the next load of seeds or mud. Instead Istril casually stepped aboard and sat down. A day-dreaming Iztl barely registered his presence. Though when he did he nearly jumped. “Pthin. An honor! An honor! Forgive me sir. I will be on my way immediately.” He said with a hasty voice. Istril didn’t mind the wait. The itztl man cast off from his mooring point and pushed himself away from the bank. Very few of Aklux’s ships had sails or rows. Most were one-man flat-bottomed boats, which were pushed along with a pole.

~

After nearly a full day of praying, Istril always felt exhausted. As Ohae sank beneath the horizon and relinquished dominion to the moon, he finally reached back his very humble adobe. Yet inside he was surprised by the little acolyte he had met that morning. “Khaten. A surprise.” He said “Why are you in my home?” He wasn’t mad. Just curious. Still, Khaten had technically broken in.

He swallowed deeply as he turned. Showing Istril the horn in his hand.

Istril’s eyes widened as he dashed towards it and took it from Khaten’s hands. “How…” he stammered as he observed the horn. It was exactly like he remembered it. But there was only one test. He put his lips on it and slowly drank from it. The water tasted strange. Almost foul with an earthen side-taste. A smile formed on his face. “It’s back.” Then he turned to Khaten. “Did you drink from this?”

Khaten shook his head. “No, Phtin. I-I don’t think I should.”

Istril motioned him to sit down. “How did you find it?” He asked.

“I was in a deep, dark cave. Praying. Begging the gibbon-god to give me a second chance. I know it’s wrong to ask him such things but I still did it. Then, in a pool, I found it. I couldn’t drink from it, Phtin. Not unless you told me to.”

“But you want to drink from it?” Istril asked. Khaten nodded but Istril understood the conundrum. It had taken many years for him to understand what was required of him by the gods as an Phtin. The prayers, the actions, the different mindset. He had to steel his resolve against the other priests. It required training. He said nothing, but instead got up and walked out of his adobe towards the nearest well he had dug.

Khaten followed him and arrived just in time to see Istril toss the horn into the well. “Why did you do that!?” He exclaimed.

“Because it will reappear when the time is right and that is not now. You will need thousand hours of prayer and the nerve to stand up against the other priests. Being an Phtin isn’t easy and it will be lonely. You will need to work hard and long, every day. Are you ready for that?” Istril said. Khaten didn’t even stop to think about it, he just nodded. “Good, then tell your priest that you are no longer an acolyte of the gibbon-god. Right now you are my apprentice.”

Summary

Pthin (honorary title for those blessed by the gods (IE: a druid)) Istril wakes up and finds offerings for his services. Then petitioners appear to ask him to bless the fields and calm the spirits. One petitioner is an acolyte of the gibbon-god. Istril talks to him private and the acolyte, Khaten, admits that he came under false pretenses and instead needs council. Istril tells him about how he lived and how Khaten could live. They part ways and Istril heads for the market first to give his offerings to the poor and the cripples.

This rather endangers the local servant, Sekhem. Who holds a position at court and demands Istril fulfills his duties to the city of Aklux and blesses the fields. Instead of offering food to the useless. Istril feels a need to challenge him but refrains from doing so. As he understands Sekhrem is under a lot of pressure as well.

When he comes back from blessing the fields, he finds Khaten in his humble adobe with the Hir. He asks if the acolyte drank from it but he says no. He wouldn’t drink from it unless Istril told him to do so. Istril, instead, tosses it into a nearby well and tells Khaten that he is not ready but that he will teach him.

Prestige

Post length: 12.3K characters
Servants >> +5 Prestige
Hir >> +5 Prestige

Divinus: The God RP, Mk. IV

Itztli of the Great Lake in Kubrajzar

High Priest Khentii was having strange dreams. Dreams of the moon eating the sun. Of the vibrant colors fleeing and all become grey and bleak. For a moment he was happy when a servant woke him up. Yet then he remembered what day it was. He rushed out of his hovel. It was a simple bricked hovel with nothing fancy about it other than the few statues carved into the walls. Even that made it stand out from the otherwise smaller hovels his people lived in. He looked east, along the sacred road heading for the temple plaza. The Great Pyramid of Ohae was faintly glowing with the sun barely behind it. Then, the first drum beats echoed throughout Aklux. The call had begun. Those of the builder and warrior castes came out of their hovels and saw Khentii.

“Bring the slaves!” He yelled at a few warriors. For today was a day Ohae in the sky would need help. “Bring wood as well!” He shouted at the builders. Before he rushed towards the Great Pyramid. He begged the Star Serpent that he was wrong. Yet the omens and machinations had to be heeded. More drums vibrated from the temple. Waking the spirits of the world. Great bonfires were lit at the food of the temple, coating it in a dark red and smokey glow. Like incense the smoke rose along the Great Pyramid. At every level more drummers joined the Call.

When Khentii was upon the Temple-Plaza, many of the builder castes had already gathered and began to dance along the great bonfire. Chanting and shouting in excitement. For the sun was about to do battle. Those of the Warrior Caste had already begun to drag their prisoners one by one up the stairs. Which had a channel cut in the middle of it. With every passing moment each level of the great Pyramid became more and more alive with drums, fires and chants enhanced through sorcerous magic. Khentii rushed up the stairs. Followed by several priests in gold-coated masks brandishing highly polished, bronze knives. Their cotton robes had gold dust on them as paint. Behind them the lesser dressed acolytes moved. Eying each of the sacrifices that were dragged up the stairs.

Khentii, at 150 years old, was not a young Itztli anymore. Every time he had to mount the stairs to the top, it took a toll on him. When he reached the flat top of the pyramid he dropped to his knees, out of breath. None of his fellow priests helped him. Instead they all moved around the four altars placed equally away from a central pool. The first four sacrifices were hauled onto the stone slabs and held down. The priests held their claw-shaped knives against their throat, which hung over a bowl. They waited for the signal. Khentii and his own acolytes looked up at the sun. Below the drums and songs and chants made more and more of the world-spirits awaken. Even the spirit of the Great Pyramid began to stir. Upon the smaller, more colorful temples standing around the Great Pyramid of Ohae the priesthood of Meghzaal, the Father-Spirit, were reciting their poems and sang their songs with their choirs. All to appease and quicken the spirits-in-all.

Then it happened. The sun was being eaten. The drums stopped. Dances were stopped in their tracks. Khentii felt a chill run along his back. Below Itztli began to cry out in horror. The light, the life, it was taken! Khentii gave his signal. Blood poured into the bowls. Which where then emptied into the central pool by servants. The bodies were thrown along a broad channel carved in the north side of the temple. The blood in the pool wasn’t enough. More bodies were dragged up on the temple. Priests on each level and upon the temple-plaza ushered their kin to continue the dancing. Bonfires were flared and fed with more wood as the dances and songs continued. Mixed with screams of fear and agony.

Nothing was enough. The sun kept being eaten. Priests begged and prayed to Ohae to defeat the World-Eater and send him once more to the gibbon god. Upon the plaza warriors were asking for a sign to kill their prisoners there and then. Khentii pushed on, demanding faster sacrifices. Letting half-drained corpses slide down the duct in favor of fresher blood. The central pool overflowed into the nearby channels, directing it down the stairs like a crimson trickle. Not enough still, the chill came and shadows became more prominent. Heat leeched from the air. Their world would be next.

Blood couldn’t flow fast enough. More and more corpses piled on at the foot of the temple. In the Eternal Shadow, gibbon-masked priests were dragging and sanctifying the dead so they may never rise again. Pyres burned dimly in the increasing dark as more and more corpses were burned to then be buried in the burial pits. Acolytes of the gibbon god of the moon were almost always convicts or prisoners taken from amongst the sacrificial offerings. Many despised their faith. They cursed the moon, the god of death, for their suffering. The masked priests were much more reverent and often showed thanks and gratitude to the moon god. As he was, after all, the god of new chances.

Meanwhile, atop the pyramid, Khentii began to silently despair as the world became dark. Finally he resorted to the last measure. He yelled his command down the southern slope of the pyramid. The Itztli warriors obeyed and pushed their prisoners against the ground. With their necks across the bloody channel that had so far but a trickle of blood. They slashed their throats, making a torrent from the trickle. Crimson falls poured down the southern slope. Violent splatters coated the entire side. When their prisoners were empty, the warriors put their blades upon their own necks and waited for the command.

Khentii held firm as he watched the white light with a black point in the middle of it. With soundless words he begged Ohae to vanquish her foe and not perish. The whole city of Aklux held its breath. Then, the world got just a little bit brighter. Khentii did not want to celebrate. Not yet. More prisoners were dragged up the eastern and western stairs. Yes, it was growing brighter. The light was growing lighter. Ohae was victorious! The goddess of sun and war had been fed enough blood! Cheers erupted along the pyramid and then amongst the commoners upon the plazas. People embraced each other and cooks ushered off to prepare the feast.

The High Priest stood motionless as the surviving sacrifices were led down the temple, the central pool was cleaned out with water and the last of the bodies were send down towards the gibbon-priests. The world was saved and now the great feast would begin.

Summary

Khentii wakes from a strange dream and realizes that the omens said that today would be an important day for the sun. As she would do battle against the World-Eater. He begins the ritual sacrifices upon the Great Pyramid of Ohae, the sun goddess as the eclipse begin. Lot sof blood is spilled but the eclipse ends. Khentii sees this as Ohae being victorious over the World-Eater.

No Might or DP was used, nor was any prestige gained.

Divinus: The God RP, Mk. IV

Emissaries in Sancta Civitas

The Itztli managed to land their Magnus Pod steeds gently enough in a tall grass-field. From the skies they couldn’t believe what they saw, yet on the ground it became quite clear. Massive flowers, the size of trees, stood over them. Filling the whole plain with a gentle but pleasant smell. The tall grass grew upon very fertile ground. That wasn’t all. Grand bushes grew to the size of an Itztli, and their berries were the size of lemons. At first the lizards touched them carefully. Expecting them to explode or fall apart. They didn’t. The first lizard who took a bite was quick to share just how delicious the big, black berries tasted. To the warmblooded Itztli the colder temperature didn’t really matter but the Eloxochitli felt uncomfortable and sluggish. Everyone rested for a moment. But then, by order of the Eloxochitli they rose up and marched down south. There, just over the horizon, the great insect-city should be.

As they marched, more oversized marvels revealed themselves. The great ants, bees and red wasps who roamed the land were remarkably peaceful and sedated, showing little interest in the new arrivals other than to skitter around or buzzing over them as they went about their days. Of the mortal population only the bright red Vespian were reliably sighted, often as they caught sight of the procession and flew either south as well or moved clear of their path. The other two races were only spotted for moments by the most eagle eyed before they blended back into the long grass.

Eventually the procession caught their first sight of the ancient city, the corner of its great wall coming into view where it met a river where it flowed into the sea. Several stone based aqueducts fed off of the river a ways upstream, flowing down under the outerwall and into the land beyond. Clustered around the river mouth was a small series of wooden warphs hosting a number of sailing vessels sporting up to four dozen oars along their lengths, although most were smaller, likely fishing vessels. Oddest of all was a very small ship transporting the carcases of a large armored deer like creature coming in to dock right as the lizards watched, powered by the wing beats of a Vespian sat gripping the sides of the vessel at its back acting as what Artifex would have described to an uncomprehending audience as an air based outboard motor.

The majority of the vessels still in dock seemed to be for transporting foraging parties and their gains across the river. A glance to the west revealed the location of the docks sister, or one of them at least, found by a small town resting upstream. A glance east found a saltwater port made of and guarded by stone walls where goods would eventually end up in bulk transport.

The sailors and dock workers were goblin or Vespian, with only a smattering of the larger and bulkier Matnarin women sprinkled among them doing the heavy lifting, the last of the goods from the docked vessels being transported into the city via a small gateway in the wall. Atop these walls a crowd had gathered, brought by news born by Vespian hunters. Guards, mostly Mantarin women, were scattered around this crowd keeping order, but most seemed to be regular citizens coming to see the strange new species gracing their island’s shores. They were clad in clothing made out of furs of forest beasts, chitin, flax, and preserved giant petals, generally woven in the form of a toga.

It was clear that the people were being moved out of the way of their arrival as the last of the ships were unloaded and the workers politely urged inside or back onto their vessels which then sailed either away or to a place they could watch. Some of these were chased further off by Vespian soldiers but it was clear that while the leadership were somewhat concerned about the risks the lizards might pose, most of the citizenry were more curious than frightened by their sudden arrival as the large numbers of onlookers watching them with anticipation could attest.

From the east came a ship far more opulent than the sturdy workships docked in the harbor. Adorned with silver trim, carved from the finest wood and sporting a figurehead carved in the image of Artifex himself, the spaciouse vessel clipped along at a steady pace until it reached the bank upon which the embassy found themselves. The deck of the ship hosted a number of individuals from all species but it was a Mantarin male clad in a toga as white as the walls of the city, who approached them, wings humming as he walked down a lowered gangplank, his arms spread wide to demonstrate his disarmed state. He paused at the end of the wooden ramp, perhaps unwilling to risk the embarrassment of his heeled feet sinking into the earth and bowed before the embassy and asked, “Greetings to you travelers, do you speak the language of our divine father Artifex?”

The Itztli, for their part, were dressed in nothing more than loincloths. Upon their torsos and limbs painted lines traced around them. Forming crude glyphs upon their skin which had mostly aesthetic value. Meanwhile the Eloxochitli wore large mantles with edges painted bright red. It hid their mostly bulbous, toad-like body. On their belts were only stone and some few copper tools. Chisels, hammers, axes and such. The biggest weapon they carried were small copper knives. The Eloxochitli who was leading the expedition, Toltecatl, bid all his Iztli to move backwards and stand behind him as he approached the sandy banks of the river. They did as told. Though some felt an uneasy tension rise. The insect-warriors, as they appeared, seemed to be herding civilians away. With focused eyes they watched the opulent ship arrive. The few Iztli artisans that had come with meanwhile marveled at the construction. The silver trim. The figurehead! They wanted nothing more than to board the ship and observe everything upon it. While asking an endless barrage of questions. The hunters kept an eye on the guards on the ship though. Even more so when one insect walked up to their reverend leaders. Except he stopped right before he got off the ship. Perhaps it was a safety measure. So he could quickly run up the ship again and flee.

Toltecatl was determined to have peace though. Even if the strange creature spoke with clicks and clacks he couldn’t understand. He guessed that if he spoke in his own guttural tongue made mostly of short, low growls and grunts the diplomate wouldn’t understand him either. High above all of them, the colors in the skies which usually moved slow and gently like clouds became agitated. They started to twist and edgy around. Like some unknown force was twisting and churning them. Toltecatl felt the presence of his god once more. Urging him not to speak with his tongue, but with his mind. He bowed down before the insect and summoned up the visions he had of the mission. Of how he was supposed to come there and pass the great walls. He summoned up every thought he had about peace. About dropping weapons and Itztli embracing each other. His imagination added to it, replacing one Itztl with the bug-diplomat that had come before them. These thoughts he bundled. Slowly but surely he tried to reach out with his mind towards the one before him and offered up the bundled thoughts.

The insectoid diplomat gripped his head and stumbled, generating sounds of alarm from those on the ship. However the Mantarin quickly steadied himself and waved his concerned compatriots back from attempting to intervene. He looked Toltecatl in the eyes, nodded, glanced at the ground, steeled himself and then carefully stepped off of the gangplank. His foot sank a little in the mud, causing the Mantarin’s skin to flush the lightest of greens, but he pressed forwards onto firmer ground as he approached Toltecatl, arms spread wide.

For a moment Totlecatl was afraid he had harmed the diplomat. It would seem that his companions thought that as well. At least until he waved them off. Which put the Eloxochitl at ease as well. When the bug descended the plank and sunk slightly in the mud, he even summoned a very small smile on his face. He received the bug diplomat with open arms, embracing him like he embraced his brothers. Which was a bit of an awkward sight considering his quite small arms and the carapace having insect pushed into his bulbous body. None the less, they embraced. When Totlecatl released his friend he turned to his brothers and charges. Three distinct grunts came from him. The Zasterhian word for peace. All Itztli cheered and hissed in excitement. Meanwhile Totlecatl turned back to his newly made friend.

In his own mind he brewed up the memories of a vision he himself barely understood. It were visions of bright white stone like he had never seen before. Piled high up, not like a pyramid but like a wall. Four walls, each with grand columns carrying the beams. It looked like grand wall, with a majestic vaulted ceiling. Stairs coiled around thick columns or up walls. Creating stories with which great piles of tablets laid. In his vision he could see the grant building be raised up again and again, but within the walls. He once more offered these memories and pointed at the great white walls. He uttered the Zastarhian sound for library.

The Mantarin stood stock still for a few moments as it took in this information before his skin turned a sunny yellow. He nodded, turned, and clicked something to those onboard the ship who had a similarly jubilant reaction as the Itztli, before pointing at one of them in particular, a goblin woman in black robes decorated with yellow thread wearing a similarly colored crown with two large curved antlers or horns on it. The two seemed to argue briefly before she too walked down the gangplank. As she approached she reached to her side and retrieved a hammer and chisel from a holster at her side, each carefully decorated with unknown symbols and iconography while also showing clear signs of use. Both she presented reverently upon upturned palms to the Mantarin diplomat Mantarin diplomat who took them and in turn presented them to Totlecatl with equal care as he had received them while uttering a crude mimicry of the Zastarhian sound for Library.

Totlecatl carefully took the tools in his hand. He observed the symbols to see if they had any magical meaning. They didn’t. None the less he slowly raised the tools for all to see. Then he telekinetically raised them even higher. The Itztli behind him began to chant the Zastarhian word for Library in exhilaration. Even Totlecatl’s Eloxochitli brothers uttered the noise for library in an approving tone.

---

Several months and a great deal of xenolinguistic research later
The inner city of Sancta Civitas had grown a lot since the days when the Mantarin had effectively squatted in one of its gatehouses but was still far from reaching its full potential. Rather than a singular mass the construction work within the city had developed into four separate towns camped within the grand walls. The first hugged the majority of the western inner wall but clumped mainly around the gates leading out into the cordoned off farmland and managed wilderness and dealt primarily in the processing of the agricultural produce of the city. The second sat next to the gates to the seaport and was a center of commerce, ship building and the city’s military. Between these two towns and sitting away from the road connecting them was an industrial sector that was segregated away from where anyone wanted to live so that the fumes of smelters, forges, tanneries and the like wouldn't choke the life of the other districts.

Finally, sitting atop a hill near the back of the city was one situated around the palace that had been built by Artifex himself. Scattered around the city’s seat of power where most of its other major civic buildings, including a modest Amphitheatre, the grandest and most gloriose temple in the city dedicated to both Artifex and Cadien, a smaller one dedicated to Tekret Et Heret who’s lack of grandeur obfuscated how integral it was to the training of the cities bureaucrats, a rudimentary hospital and the city's first public bathhouse.

The latest addition to this was the library. After an initial bout of linguistic learning, planning and convincing the city’s bureaucrats to fund the project construction had begun. Guided by the embassy's designs and aided by their reptilian hands and telekinetic minds, numerous builder-priests and scores of laborers turned stone and wood imported via ship into art on a grand scale, raising a monument to arcane knowledge such that the world had never seen before.

It was truly a grand testament. The path leading from the main road was made of the same white stone the city was so known for. A colonnade led you towards the stairs that would carry you to the entrance. The columns were chopped far too thick to carry the simple entablature. Yet the Eloxochitly insisted upon it. For one day the columns would be chiseled down into statues of the grand mages of history, upholding not just the horizontal beams depicting the great feats of magic. The crepidoma led to the main elevated level. Which carried the cyclopean columns that upheld the large, domed roof of the main hall inside. The dome, however, was not complete. A hole in the middle of it allowed some light to pour in. Within the grand entrance hall stairs snaked around the inner columns or along the inner walls. Small openings led to long hallways. Filled with rooms, big and small. All suspiciously empty. Only a few rooms were furnished with benches, tables and the likes. It was a true labyrinth that surrounded the main hall. One that went up and down with no clear, standardized levels. Some passages led to tunnels carved into the earth and stone. Leading to deep vaults. More often than not, corridors ended abruptly. As if something was to be built at their end but the builders hadn’t gotten to it yet. Deep under the ground the tunnels stopped in the same, sudden manner. The Eloxochitli insisted that this was all per design.

Some doors led one outside. Into the large gardens. Much like the inside of the library, the outside had no care for level terrain. Small, artificially raised mounds surrounded the large, circular building. Some places were hedged, others paths led to grand terraces sitting in front of small insect-made waterfalls. Meditative rock gardens were tucked away in hidden corners and small arbors were planted with among others: alder, rowan and hawthorn. It was a gentle, soothing place.

On the day that work was deemed complete a celebration was held, with people coming from all across the city to bear witness to the latest addition to their city. The Mantarin Queen Regina herself made one of her rare appearances to take part in the ceremonial blessing of the construction, before the floor was briefly handed over to the Mantarin Diplomat Amulius, who had first welcomed the Embassy to the city.

“Thank you one and all for coming on this historic day where we celebrated not just a new addition to our city’s architecture, but also once again celebrate our latest and newest friends and members of our community, the Eloxochitli and Itztli,” a cheer went up from the crowd as the Mantarin swept a hand towards the Embassy’s people, “and a celebration of the gifts that they have brought. Magic!” the mantarin raised a theatrical hand, spoke a few words, and conjured a simple glowing sphere. It was an amateur's display of magic by most standards, but to the masses, most of whom had never who had never seen such things in their lives, it inspired first silent awe and then wild cheering.

“Thank you, thank you. I am told that this is the least you will see today, for the structure we have built together is to be one of the centers of magic, not just on our island but on the entirety of Galbar! ” more cheering “and now, to officially open this wonder of the world I hand the stage over to my good friend: Totlecatl!” Amulius announced before bowing to the crowded and making way for the head of the Embassy.

A proud Totlecatl moved up the stage to face the crowd. The Library had been constructed as per their masters visions. As his new friend Amulius said, it would form a center for magic across all of Galbar. “Friends of all races!” He boomed across the open plaza before him. “Today will be immortalized forever. We could not have done it alone and therefore we wish to offer our thanks to Queen Regina and her countless advisors for allowing us to build this magnificent marvel here. Without them, The Library would never be made. They have our gratitude. And so do all of you have our gratitude for allowing us into your city. For helping us, teaching us and in turn letting us teach you. Maybe the gods forever bless Sancta Civitas!”

An Itztli got upon the elevation upon which The Library stood and handed over the ceremonial tools that were first offered to the Emissaries when they arrived. The three brothers of Totlecatl who had come with each closed their eyes and lifted their arms. Totlecatl, telekinetically, was raised up until he hung in front of the entablature and carved not the Zastarhian word but the Artifexian word for Library into it.

Then the eternal faith of the Eloxochitli was answered. They had insisted at every moment it came up that the Library should be almost entirely empty. For a blessing would fill it. As Totlecatl was lowered back down the colors in the skies became agitated again. Just like the first time the Emissaries arrived at Sancta Civitas. Yet now it came closer and closer. The Itztli and Eloxochitli were calm and content. It was their god who came down, after all. The Winds of Magic entered The Library through the oculus in the dome and filled the main hall almost entirely. Light flashes a hundred times within. Then the Winds ascended back towards the heavens. Leaving behind tiny wisps of blue energy floating everywhere in the main hall.

“Enter The Library, friend. Call for wisps.” Totlecatl said to Amulius. The first Vessel would be filled with the most humble display of magic.

The Mantarin ambassador nodded slowly and then walked towards the library, his carapace tinged with black, which Totlecatl now recognised as the Mantarin color for awe. It was an emotion reflected by the gathered crowd, who held their collective breath as they craned their necks to see inside. Just past the doors of the Library Amulius raised his hands to the wisps and spoke the incantation for the same light spell he had demonstrated to the crowd.

One wisp shot off straight to Amulius. It stopped in between his hand and began to glow brightly. The otherwise gaseous looking wisp began to solidify as the glow vanished. Creating a rectangular tablet in between his hands. Upon it was written, in Artifexian, the incantation for the spell and the specific instructions towards the mana it carried. It fell into Amulius’ hands once the tablet was fully formed. The diplomat stared disbelievingly at it for a few moments before raising it up for all to see “First spell recorded!” Boomed an excited Totlecatl over the cheering of the amazed crowd, “Endless more to eternalize!”

summary

The Emissaries from Xal-Zastarha come to Sancta Civitas via Magnus Pod with the goal of building a grand library of the arcane arts, landing a ways north of the city. They are greeted by the Mantarin ambassador Amulius and his entourage who arrive via ship to intercept their journey to the city proper inorder to gauge their intentions. Qael grants his Emissaries the ability to transmit ideas and images telepathically, which allows their leader Totlecatl to first communicate friendship and then their desire to build a library, both of which Sancta Civitas’ Ambassador accepts.

The narrative then jumps forwards to the opening of the great library, skipping us past all the xenolinguistics and arguing over planning and funding. There the queen and priests of the city bless the building’s structure, Amulius shows off some basic magic he has learned from the Emissaries to the crowd gathered to witness the opening and then Totlecatl formally names The Library, at which point Qael blesses it. After the winds of magic rush into the building it becomes filled with wisps (named Vessels). Totlecatl has Amulius demonstrate the ability of The Library’s wisps to form recordings of spells onto stone tablets. He then announces their intention to record as many spells as possible so that they may be stored and learned from for all eternity, much to the delight of the city who are enamored with this new and exciting thing known as magic.

There's also a lot of scenery building depicting the layout and workings of modern Sancta Civitas in there.

mp/dp/prestige

Artifex
Start mp/dp: 4/2
Used 1 dp at some point in the past to teach the people of Sancta Civitas how to make good bronze age boats

Used 1 dp to grant the Library the title: Marvel of Construction.

2/5 towards stoneworking

3/5 towards ships

End mp/dp: 4/0

Qael’Naath
Start: 4MP/4DP
- 2MP >> Grant Emissaries the ability Mindcasters II - The Emissaries are naturally able to connect to minds and share visions, thoughts and even the products of imagination with those connected. This allows them to rudimentary ‘talk’ to races and factions whose language is utterly foreign. However this sharing of thoughts can only be done across a very short distance. Generally no more than across 3 meter. It also requires at the very least a neutral relationship between the two sides in the conversation. Should one prefer not to be talked through in their own mind, they can almost instantly and subconsciously shutdown the stream of thoughts. It is also important to note that this is a one-to-one connection and cannot create a “web of thoughts”.
- 2 DP >> Consecrate The Library

The Library

Transformable Vessels II – The Vessels that store this information are able to alter their shape depending upon what information must be stored. For mana spells they will generally take the shape of clay tablets, scrolls or books (depending on the age and general knowledge of the world). Druidic ceremonies would be stored as mosaics or tapestries showing the event with all the appropriate required context written on it. Spiritsinging’s uniqueness makes it impossible to replicate, however the songs and poems used to quicken the Worldsong are still stored with the appropriate context upon tablets. Telluric magic is impossible to record, as is the use of Deepspeak.
Marvel of Construction I - The Library is built with an unparalleled degree of complexity and skill for it’s day and age, with high ceiling, many splendid columns and immaculately decorated gardens outside. These advanced features will also be found when the planned expansions to the building are undergone at a later date.

End: 2MP/2DP

Prestige
10K+ Post length
+5 Prestige >> Emissaries (Total 8)
+5 Prestige >> Sancta Civitas (Total 10)
+5 Prestige >> The Library (Total 5)

Divinus: The God RP, Mk. IV

Life on Xal-Zastarha had been growing steadily. Though upon the floating island, as big as it was, there was only so much food. Still, the Itztli and Eloxochitli were thriving in their own unique way. Though the Eloxochitli had become somewhat reclused. Their grandfathers had talked about the great god of magic. How he taught them everything. Since that age, he had vanished though. Nobody heard anything from him.

Until that faithful day. The Eloxochitli were meditating in their respective temples. Itztli attendants watched their every move. These lizards had grown to understand their masters better than their average brethren. Eloxochitli acted slower, talked using fewer words and sometimes barely moved to request something. Yet the attendants knew full well that a raised finger meant food, two meant sun and three meant…well nobody knew what three meant. Though they were holding those fingers up now. All of them. From deep within the bowels of the temples, the attendants could not see the majestic lights dancing in the sky. Sure, the ink-in-the-sky was a constant comfort for the more artistically inclined Itztli, yet now color danced upon the very winds. Three fingers meant God. The Eloxochitli opened their voices and turned to their attendants. With a guttural roar, they transferred their command. The message was simple: open the temple. Upon the side of the pyramid, Itztli moved and grabbed heavy ropes, hanging on thick stone doors hanging off the side of the temple. They pulled with all their might, and the heavy doors slowly opened up. Letting the sun and more importantly the colors inside. All of them gazed upon the colors and heard his voice.

His wish was clear. The time of Great Absence was over. Qael’Naath had returned. With him came instructions. Demands. Missions. Most importantly: visions.

A group of older Eloxochitli, those who had survived for many centuries already, received a vision of a far-away land. Across the Great Pool. Where insects scattered about grand, majestic white stone buildings. In that vision, they saw lizard and insect alike helping raise a grand building upon from the ground. They saw deep vaults dug and strange wisps like creations fluttering about the grand halls. Which were filled with clay tablets and majestic wall paintings. Its purpose did not need to be explained. All immediately understood the purpose of the Library. Their duty was clear. For the first time in several decades, these ancient Eloxochitli rose up and began gathering their attendants. Who in turn began gathering the strongest and most skilled builders amongst the Itztli.

Departing the floating islands would not be an easy endeavor. Xal-Zastarha has kept the Itztli and Eloxochitli safely away from the world but now they had to dive headfirst into it. Of course, the nearby Eloxochitli had already created a plan. Through the subtle manipulations of mana all around them, they lured great Magnus Pods from the skies down upon the island. The Itztli then switfly bound ropes and wicker baskets on them. The first few efforts to control and tame these Magnus Pods were suprisingly succesful. When the baskets were loaded and ready, two dozen Magnus Pods floated out from Xal-Zastarha. Ushered forward by the Eloxochitli.

~

Months passed since the coming of the Winds of Magic. The temple sky-doors were closed again, while the younger Eloxochitli reflected constantly upon their visions. For they had received a different task. One that required a different set of tools. The Itztli temple attendants counted the passing of the white moon per their masters' command. Tensions were rising. Certain younger Itztli had dropped their tools per their masters' request as well and had returned to training. For two thousand years, they had built the temples, training to fight was generally a pass-time. But now the artisans had stopped carving wood and began carving the natural onyx upon the island. The shards they made they inlaid upon wooden clubs.

It was slow and delicate work. Yet with every moon passed, one artisan or another had managed to finish a macuahuitl. Itztli, meanwhile, were once more sharpening their predatory senses through hunt and duels. The later came with a lot of hissing, blood, and scars. Their natural affinity towards mana sorcery caused them not to just fight with wooden sticks, but with invisible forces of will. Fire or ice exploded from strikes, while others forced the roots of trees to net their opponents.

When the time was finally right, and Xal-Zastarha was finally in range of Toraan, the younger Eloxochitli marched out of their own temples as well. Before they stood the trained, armed and supplied Itztli. Ready to descend upon an unknown world and find an Abomination. None had met one, ever. They only knew how it looked through their vision. Bipedal, like they were. Yet somehow with soft skin and hair. It walked with the skins of its vanquished predators around it. Holding a power that rejected mana. Whatever they were, one had to be caught and examined. So the Eloxochitli could understand the cursed creature. This time only half a dozen Magnus Pods floated off across the horizon, away from Xal-Zastarha.

Summary

The Eloxochitli & Itztli have been slowly but surely growing upon Xal-Zastarha. Waiting for the return of Qael'Naath. When the Winds of Magic comes for them, they are given two missions by it: go to Sancta Civitas and establish a library there and go to Toraan and find a druid. Two groups each leave upon the flying Magnus Pods with several months in between them.

Prestige & MP

Start Qael'Naath: 5MP/5DP
-1 DP: Make the Emissaries

Emissaries

The Emissaries act as the direct hand of Qael'Naath. Even though only the upper echelon priests will directly commune with the god.

Transformation of Tlahquilli I - The Transformation is a chanted spell that allows a user to completely turn their bodies and everything they carry into a gaseous state, which is encased in mana. Allowing them to fly at a significant speed for just a split second. Covering about 15 meters. They cannot go through physical objects (IE: they cannot “blink” through a wall). In this form, they do not maintain any sense of the world. To those who use it, it’s like they closed they blinked and they are suddenly 15m further. To the outside world, this Transformation looks like a bright flash of blue light. The spell cannot be used in rapid succession as it required a charge of mana to build up upon the user's skin. Finally, they must have a line of sight to where they actually want to end up to.

_{2/5 to Spell Portfolio}
-1 MP >> Teach the civilization of Xal-Zasterha how to tame Magnus Pods
End Qael'Naath: 4MP/4DP
5.6K Length >> +3 Prestige to Emissaries