Dear Mr Curly, I have done little travelling lately because I have been so dreadfully weary. Can it be true as the old Ecclesiastes said; that all things lead to weariness? Surely not. Perhaps the opposite is true: that all nothings lead to weariness. I have a peculiar feeling, Curly, that I am worn out from something I haven't yet done and the more I don't do it, the more exhausted I become. How strange. Could it be something I haven't realised? Perhaps it's something I haven't said? Something I haven't finished! It must be very large and true whatever it is and a lively struggle in the doing but I look forward to it immensely. I know I need it. First, however, I must curl up in my chair and sleep deeply with the duck. Perhaps I'll dream of this thing and wake up refreshed and do it. My fond wishes to you Mr. Curly, and to all Curly Flat. Yours sleepily, Vasco Pyjama xxx P.S. Not having breakfast can make you weary. That's for sure!
It is now the second Age, where each god gets 8 Free Points per Turn. This is the Age of Monsters. Where the previous Age laid the foundations of Galbar and the Spheres to make them habitable, the Age of Monsters is the time for gods to really flex their creative powers in creating life both mundane and extraordinary. While time was uncertain in the previous Age, what is apparent is that enough time has elapsed for the ecosystems and lifeforms created in the Age of Creation to take root and fill their habitats.
This Age, FP can be used for the following things:
Creation of ecosystems.
Creation of extraordinary yet unintelligent species.
Creation of individual beasts of phenomenal power.
Conferring abilities upon species or peoples.
Blessing, cursing, praising or censuring beings, but only to make them supernatural, extraordinary or monstrous.
It has been decided that intelligent/sapient species can NOT be bought with FP during this Age (although individual beasts of phenomenal power may be intelligent), although such races can be made using MP. For now the focus is on filling the world with weird and wonderful forms of life.
PLEASE MAKE USE OF THE MP SPREADSHEET!
Source Spreadsheet, updateable for your record keeping convenience: docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1r2eSo… Please update the 'link to last MP update' with your own posts to make the turn changing process quicker and easier :)
GODS
Player - Name - Portfolios - MP - FP - MP @ last turn - FP @ last turn - MP Income
Slime - Abanoc - Recording - 8 - 8 - 3 - 12 - 5
Aristo - Aelius - Virtue - 13 - 8 - 8 - 24 - 5 <No MP or FP used? The Architect has his eye on you, little one...>
Kirron brought the oversize boar leg to his mouth and tore off another chunk of flesh. Sitting where he was, he leisurely chewed until the last strands of muscle drew into his mouth. Another blast of hot wind blew through his hair in a gale. "Oh! Right in his face! Hahahah!" He laughed though his mouthful. "Watch the grapple, smokey! Watch the grapple-Ah! Couldn't escape!"
Over the expanse of rocky earth and tufts of grass beneath the hill that was Kirron's seat, Sartravius' Phoenix virtually exploded into a new sun in the distance. The match between the giants was grand entertainment.
"How do you think he'll handle this one?" Kirron asked the Blood Cockatoo on his shoulder.
"Uhm, I just remembered I have to be somewhere! Sorry, Kirron." The bird flew away as fast as it could behind the blood god.
"Suit yourself, little guy." Kirron tossed the stripped boar femur over his shoulder and tore off another limb from the carcass beside him. This world was getting better by the day.
The excitement escalated to the point where Kirron found himself engulfed in a fiery blast of glass, stone, and sand.
"Augh! My lunch! Damn it!"
Kirron did not spend too much time gawking at the new additions to the continent he had already traversed. Narzhak and Sartravius' scuffle was an interesting diversion, but it had little to do with him or his interests. Nevertheless, once past the new desert, he marvelled at just how green Sheng's new rivers had made the place. This would be a region to note. Red follows green in many things, he knew.
Onwards he travelled until he reached the tip of the Dragon's Foot. He took one last panning look over the horizon of blue ocean before turning on a heel and walking backwards.
And then he ran up to a great jump.
Heliopolis sparked off the endless rough surface below, only to be obscured by fluffy clouds whizzing by to his left and right.
Kirron's squinting eyes widened just a little as, after some time, the approaching ocean below gave way to a rapidly rising shock of rough stone. His arms flailed to readjust to moment before his feet made impact. He kicked up a long line of dust as he slowed to a tumbling stop up the incline of a mountain.
Scree slid and tumbled. Kirron's upper half emerged from the settling dust cloud and he shook his head to get the stones out of his hair. He quickly peered around.
"I need to get a better view of this place."
Curiosity kept the blood god silent. Hand over hand carried him up the last sheer rock face before he reached the top of the mountain. One final jump and his feet clomped down with purchase. He rose, letting his shoulders rest back and his lips curl into a half-smile.
"Ohannakeloi, you pinchy little artist." He rested a fist on his hip. "You outdid me here. Well done."
Kirron sat down and took a nose full of the thin, high-altitude air. He let out his breath slowly and with satisfaction. "Let's try something else. Something to really bring about action."
He curled a fist shut. His other palm pressed on it to make all his fingers crackle. He cracked the fingers of his other fist just the same.
Slowly, he brought himself up to his knees, breathed in, and lifted his fists up over his shoulders.
The soft, empty breeze over central and eastern Atokhekwoi gave peace to the sleeping stones it caressed. The land was a vast and lifeless place, fresh as it was raised by its god. With so little change, the land could only bear a new sensation from a most ominous herald. It started so small that the fine dust in the air was louder.
But the dust pulsed.
The breeze gave way.
A rhythm echoed from the mountains.
No earthquake was as deliberate. No storm stopped in voids of sound like a beating heart. The beat grew into a volume heard across the land. And across the sea. And across the world. Soft. Then growing louder.
The stones of Atokhekwoi shuddered with each beat, shifting in their beds. Smaller rocks and dust fell in flows from previously rested positions. The land itself flowed for a blink with every beat, freezing in the small gaps of silence.
And then a dab of red spattered into the dry surface. Another fell nearby, greater this time. Following the rhythm of the mountain drumming delayed by the time they took to travel, sheets of bright blood rained from a high arc. Each bar of timing threw another shade of crimson on the plain earth. The land grew richer and shone with the sparkling liquid. For every droplet that dried in the sun, the rain intensified. Rivulets soon grew into creeks. The heady smell running down the mountains drowned Atokhekwoi in a power the world hardly knew.
Just as the red rain grew into a mist that obscured all senses, the running blood pulsed. It pulsed with the drumming up the mountain as lumps grew from its opaque surface. The lumps grew tails and limbs of all different lengths. They grew heads of all different sizes. They grew teeth and jaws for eating flesh and vegetation alike. Large eyelids split open to see the world around them.
The shapes of the creatures outgrew the viscosity of the blood. They lifted their hulking bodies from the red-drenched stones and roared into the sky. With their cries, the stones shattered, and between them sprouted high grasses, shrubs, and hardy trees, all a deep red.
Up on the mountain, Kirron's fists beat the song into the stone of the mountain. Every arc of his arms sprayed blood leaking from his split skin.
The creatures grew to a size where the bloody mats of their feathers or furs bristled in wet clumps despite the endless rain. Their corded and brutish bodies tensed with the smell of blood and the energy of the beat. They immediately set upon one another in an overpopulated free-for-all. Claws rent hide and teeth ripped at necks. Horns impaled lungs and tails beat in ribcages. The carnage went on with the sound of the drums goading it.
More lumps grew from the blood to replace the fallen.
The great savage spill settled only with the halting of the red rain. Kirron stood up to his feet again, his chest rising and falling to catch his breath. His shoulders and arms, red as they were, were made vivid with a glistening layer of his own blood covering their length.
He spread his arms up. One last flick of blood arced from his fingers. He bellowed at the red land around him. "Let the largest walk the earth!"
Kirron watches the Phoenix/Narzhak fight and enjoys himself.
After the desert explosion, he goes wandering and jumps to Atokhekwoi. He is chuffed to see that Ohannakeloi one-upped him hard on the landscaping.
Kirron climbs a mountain in the big elevated part of the east of the continent. Surveying the empty land, he feels it's incomplete.
Kirron decides to solve the issue by beating his fists against the mountain until he starts bleeding everywhere in a several-hundred mile radius.
Plants, dinosaurs, and megafauna rise from his blood and start tearing each other to shreds until the music stops.
Kirron presses against the fourth wall to herald the new age coming up.
The resulting life in Kirron's bloodrain makes up the Great Hooflands. A double-cost big-flex ecosystem. It spans the land in a rough circle around the mountains roughly between Kangjiang River and Mount Chop (I'll put the map edit on the Discord server soonish). This region ranges from tropical in the north to dry heat in the south and is home to all kinds of mundane dinosaurs, megafauna, and enough lesser lifeforms required to sustain them. This ensures the land will be dangerous to tame.
Before: Kirron - Blood, Strength - 5 MP - 12 FP
-8 FP: To create the 'Great Hooflands,' a truly massive ecosystem.
After: Kirron - Blood, Strength - 5 MP - 4 FP
Maybe I should have just poured all of my FP into this ecosystem, huh?
The dull metallic rattle of the chain over Rosie's shoulder gave a rhythm to the party's footsteps. She was no stranger to overland travel. While there was little to look out for in the relatively flat land around them, her thoughts kept her occupied. Somehow, the act of venturing into the river kingdoms with a group of gormless meat heads felt like a step backwards. Hell, one of them shared her profession -- Rosie hardly bought Odin's born-again religious attitude for a second.
At least she had a goal this time. The first real test would start shortly. She could feel it.
Rosie leant to one side to speak up at the one leading the way. "About damn time. I thought for a while you were heading us to Galt."
Rossarm did not wait during the scant preparation time Neesa employed. Seeing her ward fully established, he cast his hand over the floor between them, launching a spell that caused the stone surface to blast a curtain of flame and smoke between them. Even if the smoke was an obstacle for Neesa, it did not extend completely across the chamber.
"Why would he think-?"
Fendros did not have time to speak his reflections before Neesa's first crystal came shooting through the smoke. Rossarm slid his foot forward with surprising flexibility, ducking the spell. Against the next two crystals and their follow-up bolts, he sprang to his feet and ran quickly in one lateral direction from Neesa, and then the other.
"This seems wasteful," Fendros remarked.
"You aren't a duellist, aren't you?" Teroiah said bitterly over her tightly crossed arms. "He is testing her senses. Perhaps wasteful to us, but it is information to him."
"Well...I don't know," Rhazii said, before turning his eyes back to Narsi. "Did I do something to get you angry?"
"I don't gotta be nice to you," Narsi hissed back.
Rhazii lowered his brow. "You don't have to be an arse, either!"
Lorag's movement away drew their attention before their talk could escalate.
Janius walked up beside Kaleeth, holding his bag over his shoulder. He slowed to a stop when Lorag neared and grinned. "Good to see you, too, Lorag. We had nothing planned for the rest of the day, so..." he looked over his shoulder. "Julan?" he asked, assuming Julan had heard the question.
He did not have time to answer before Sabine spotted Rhazii following behind Lorag and widened her eyes. "Oh! You're back, Rhazii? Is Meesei here?"
"Yeah," Rhazii said. "We came back a little while ago with...grandfather. Father's father." He carefully pointed a thumb over his shoulder. "I think they were going to test him in the training area."
Sabine did not say another word. She started on a brisk walk to find Meesei.
Rossarm stepped back into a ready stance as soon as Neesa charged a spell in her hand. His ward was raised well in advance of her first attack. His response was prepared in advance and took the form of the magic he previously used against Fendros and Ahnasha -- a flash of powerful lightning charged so fast that it was barely perceptible before it leapt from his hand. He sent two in quick succession, the second almost being off-target when Rossarm took the crystal upon his ward and physically flinched at the impact.
One of the rapid shots from Rossarm would have been enough to stop most lesser daedra on its own. If he demonstrated anything, it was that he was not treating his opponent with dismissal, nor was he playing defensively.
"You have a daught-?" Rhazii was interrupted before his sudden confusion could settle.
Rhazii took a moment opening and closing his mouth to try and wrap his head around all the information. "Ah...er, okay." He glanced between Narsi and Lorag. "I guess...that means you're my sister now. Uh, nice to meet you, Narsi. Welcome to the clan." He tried extending his hand.
Narsi looked at the hand, unimpressed, and peered back up at Rhazii. "Piss off," she said flatly.
Rhazii's hand awkwardly curled back. He raised an eyebrow at Lorag.
Fendros did not know if his freezing up in Neesa's grasp was due to his own fear or simply Neesa's powers. When he was shoved away, he stepped to a stop and clenched his fists. It took a lot of will power to contain his subsequent anger, especially considering Neesa had not been apparently available since they returned with Rossarm.
Teroiah was not as tempered. "What?! But this was my idea! How dare you-" She stopped as soon as she felt Neesa's eyes on her. A tense few seconds passed. Teroiah relented indignantly, stepping back and muttering curses between her grinding teeth.
All that left was Rossarm, standing ready and waiting. He kept his frown with Hal-Neesa, neither shaken nor certain.
Lorag had caught Rhazii catching up on chores. The events in Cheydinhal had driven him to be alone to reflect, but he was in no position to refuse to go along with Lorag.
Rhazii was predictably confused when Lorag introduced him to the orc girl. She looked at least a few years younger than him.
Narsi had her arms crossed the entire time. She glared up at Rhazii with her head forward.
"Who are you?" Rhazii asked.
"Narsi," she answered simply.
Rhazii glanced at Lorag. "Okay, uncle, what do you want me to do, exactly?" he asked unconfidently. He pointed a thumb over his shoulder. "I was sort of in the middle of something before."
They would have needed Sabine to get them back, and that means Sabine would have been finished selecting her new packmate, so yeah, it's safe to say they're lined up.
If I did have anything specific for Narsi, It's slipped my mind. We can do it later if I remember. For now, though, just a summary on her behaviour so far unless broached further. Assuming this is a timeskip to after Julan gets back, how long will it have been since he returned to the clanhome with his marks? I imagine Rhazii would have some feedback on it thinking it looks cool, possibly a little jealousy and friendly ribbing thereof.
[center][youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HPjJCVylFBo[/youtube][/center]
[quote=Michael Leunig. The Curly Pyjama Letters.]
Dear Mr Curly,
I have done little travelling lately because I have been so dreadfully weary. Can it be true as the old Ecclesiastes said; that all things lead to weariness? Surely not. Perhaps the opposite is true: that all [u]nothings[/u] lead to weariness. I have a peculiar feeling, Curly, that [u]I[/u] am worn out from something I haven't yet done and the more I don't do it, the more exhausted I become. How strange. Could it be something I haven't realised? Perhaps it's something I haven't said? Something I haven't finished! It must be very large and true whatever it is and a lively struggle in the doing but I look forward to it immensely. I know I need it. First, however, I must curl up in my chair and sleep deeply with the duck. Perhaps I'll dream of this thing and wake up refreshed and do it. My fond wishes to you Mr. Curly, and to all Curly Flat.
Yours sleepily,
Vasco Pyjama
xxx
P.S. Not having breakfast can make you weary. That's for sure!
[/quote]
<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;"><div class="bb-center"><iframe src="//youtube.com/embed/HPjJCVylFBo?theme=dark" frameborder="0" width="496" height="279" allowfullscreen></iframe></div><br><br><blockquote class="bb-quote">Dear Mr Curly,<br>I have done little travelling lately because I have been so dreadfully weary. Can it be true as the old Ecclesiastes said; that all things lead to weariness? Surely not. Perhaps the opposite is true: that all <span class="bb-u">nothings</span> lead to weariness. I have a peculiar feeling, Curly, that <span class="bb-u">I</span> am worn out from something I haven't yet done and the more I don't do it, the more exhausted I become. How strange. Could it be something I haven't realised? Perhaps it's something I haven't said? Something I haven't finished! It must be very large and true whatever it is and a lively struggle in the doing but I look forward to it immensely. I know I need it. First, however, I must curl up in my chair and sleep deeply with the duck. Perhaps I'll dream of this thing and wake up refreshed and do it. My fond wishes to you Mr. Curly, and to all Curly Flat.<br>Yours sleepily,<br>	Vasco Pyjama<br>	xxx<br>P.S. Not having breakfast can make you weary. That's for sure!<footer>Michael Leunig. The Curly Pyjama Letters.</footer></blockquote></div>
Curious Fawn
Frettzo
headintheclouds
Forsythe
Master EffeX
Hokum
Vec