Heroes of the Sagas II - Endgame [Archive] - Giant in the Playground Forums

White Blade

2010-10-15, 03:24 PM

The Tower
The giants who live in the deep do not hold their prisoners below the earth, nearer to their king and their honor, but high above the mountains in towersthat hang over chasms and are guarded by strong gates. These tower-holds are the prisoner this day of two perfectly ordinary mortals, the Squire of Rognir and the Daughter of the King, who surely have no connection to any god of any kind. This is what they tell their captors, this what they are known as amidst the sounds of the world. But still the giants press them. For information about the gods, for information about each other, for information about legends and myths... One of which is about a tree at the center of the world. They are imprisoned together, and each day the squire binds the princess' wound. And each night she binds his. Never is a secret yielded.

The days grow worse, and Verdant suffers greater abuse as his torturer discover he can take it. Soon, he is all but crippled, his pain showing in every side, his eyes blackened and blued. He has never yielded any information, about Hith or any of the secrets the giants seek.

One day, the princess is dragged back in and thrown to the floor, her crumbling form showing evidence of as severe a torture as either has yet faced. Verdant looks at her, worried, and she smiles up at him as she passes in and out of consciousness "Didn't tell them anything sweetheart, no fear."
Verdant looks at her and says, almost playfully, "Where did you learn such perseverance?" as he tends to her wounds.
It was the seriousness of her reply that shocked him, "Do you know my father stole a man whole from the realm of the dead? He has... So much power, he broke all laws and bonds. And I thought I could be like him, be better than him. Be stronger, kinder... But now I realize I can't..."
"The day isn't out yet, my love. You will be greater than the death-thief by every measure. Do not give in, be strong, this is how Calantha ascended, we can do the same."
"Where did you learn such kindness and courage Verdant?" she asked, looking up at her lover with a something like a smile.
"My father guides the dead night and day, he leads them out of darkness and into light, for this is who he is. And I aim to surpass him in every measure,"
The princess' eyes widen, and then she smiles and says, "I love you. Thank you for being honest with me,"
He leans down and kisses her, "I love you too."

The Blade of Noon and the Shield of Midnight
There is darkness, so deep, that it turns everything to blackness, there is fear and despair. But gripped in that darkness is a certain power, and at the edge of its idea, you can form it. This is what she said, when she stole the form of pitch dark, of the tower at moonless midnight.

There is something in the sunlight, there is something in that bright light that says, "Welcome!" and beckons on a new day. Something that brings us to something higher. So she claimed, before she caught the light on the morning drag back into tower over the cliff.

There was need for a base for the sword and that shield. Verdant took the bones of a prisoner who had finally yielded to the giants, and been killed for it, and made a sword's base from its femur. The princess took off a protective bracelet (hidden by her father's secret arts) and gave it to Verdant for base of the shield.

So then one day, the two forged a sword and a shield. One from sunlight, one from darkness. And then, when the giants came the next night, Verdant destroyed them with his blade and shield and they made a run for it.

Raz_Fox

2010-10-15, 03:53 PM

Nari and the Death-Thief

The vagrant shakes his head, hissing between his teeth. "Does she know nothing? Not good not good, no not at all." He glances at Nari again, his thin lips set grimly. "The old family. The first family. Rognir's brood. Our family. You understand? The story's ours, but we don't get the kind of ending where everyone lives happily ever after. All I see is the ending where everyone dies.

Except you. You're not in the ending, you just... you're here. You're a member of the family, but not. You don't want to change the world in your own image, you just want other people's happiness. You are strange, Nari, and that is good. The end cannot be won through swords, no matter what they think." His voice is rambling and uneven now, sharp and then low and then slurred.

ArlEammon

2010-10-15, 05:10 PM

Shen Zhi Shu
Shen Zhi Shu began searching through the tomes. . .learning of Alrodores. . . He had wondered for a long while how the end of days would come. Most particularily, he had been searching for the meaning of symbols, specifically the meaning of the mark of Rognir's Sword on his head.

hi-mi-tsu

2010-10-15, 06:27 PM

Calantha, with Garadiel

There is silence, in her hall, for some time; the goddess watches her brother, from her kneeling position on the floor. She watches him, and inside of her parts rage, they battle...but she was ever a sweet girl, even in her madness, and in the end of it she makes a decision.

The world is changing. It is ending. Perhaps she will die tonight, when she next attempts to steal the stars. Perhaps tomorrow, when gods or men seeking vengeance come for her. Or perhaps at the end of things, though it is an end she is desperately working to change. But why should she go, with hatred? Why should she let herself drown in it...?

Her hands find Garadiel's hair, press against it, and her lips brush lightly over her elder brother's forehead. Life...that was what he had. What he was given. She would never have it, not a true one, only pieces, only fragments that she still fought to cling to...

"I forgive you, Garadiel." A faint smile. "I would not be I, if I did not forgive you. And even when I feel like we, I have decided still...you did what you believed you had to do, to stop me.I will never believe your actions were right, but I forgive you for them."

She lifts her hands, then, and turns away, bending down to gather her cushions and stack them neatly.

"It is time for you to go, Garadiel. I have work to do, you see--or don't, can't, aren't allowed to--and so you must leave." She turns, and smiles at him, and there is something beautiful and sad in it, as though she expects it to be the last time she smiles at him...and then her back is to him, and she is walking steadily out the side-door of her temple, to her observatory.

Tonight, she would take the Dreamer's followers, pluck them from the sky as though making a necklace of their sparkle. She knew, oh yes, she knew that the Dreamer was coming, coming to change the world into madness and chaos, coming to kill, always...and that, perhaps, this undertaking would kill her as well. For was she not bound up in the dreams? Was she not bound in the chaos and the lunacy, was she not already half-one of his followers...?

When morning came, it would come to a blaze of light in the mirror, to a conspicuous hole in the sky. It would come to the crumpled, fragile form of a goddess, still and pale, who had attempted something impossible and had been rebuffed, by power she had not anticipated encountering. So still, so cold, like ice...only the barest rising and falling of her chest would show her to be still alive.

White Blade

2010-10-15, 07:06 PM

Garadiel rises slowly, laboriously, and nods and smiles to his sister. She blinks for a bare, half-moment, and her brother is gone... And stardust remains behind him, vanishing like dew from the earth.

Aether: All Things Come Together In The End
The next night, Garadiel looked up to a barren sky... And he frowned. He was still full of fire, and he still knew the heart of judgment, and he still felt the wicked flames of the damned on his shoulders, and he knew the place of the gods. But that was not why he frowned. The missing stars were not the ones he had long worried might vanish from the sky...

They were different, they belonged to none of his siblings. No desperate measure for self-saving, no desperate call for human kindness. Nothing. Gone. Without warning, without call... Without theatrics. It was not the dreamer's work. No. He'd have made a statement, he'd have come with thunder... He would not have yanked nine stars from the sky without preamble.

He could return to his sister, confront her... But his heart is too soft within him. He does not will such things. No. He will not accuse her... Not unless he has proof. And if he finds it, he will leave it to Eridi, or Celestan, or anyone else to decide what to do. He does not wish to find it.

So it takes fourteen years for him to do what he has been planning. Aether... The touch whipped around him. Silence, crackling power. The power... It burned and it lit the way. He felt it come to him as he stood before the World Tree and sent his son out to war. Had it been... Had it been a gift? Or was it just that he finally understood what he had won in his past four conquests?

He did not wish to know. His hands crackled with it like liquid fire and solid lightning, white and bright like the sun and the stars, and his thoughts do not leave him empty. He raises one ancient, elder hand, in a salute to the thing that had called him... And he goes looking for Ordeanus, so called guardian of the stars.

1 Major Act to gain Aether Mastery

ArlEammon

2010-10-15, 07:25 PM

The Tournaments
"Shen, who do you think will win the Chariot race tomorrow?" Fang Zhi asked of the son of Pan-Lung. Shen smiled. . . "Zhang Chu is my favorite, he will always win." And so Shen Zhi Shu busily watched the Chariot Race, hoping that Zhang would win it. Zhang did win.

Next came the Tournament of Magic. Dozens of participants fell that day. Until finally, Wang Di was victorious. Then the song tournament came, and then the poetry tournament, and then the unarmed fighting tournament. Each time that some asked who would win in the Tournaments, Shen Zhi Shu was always correct.

TheDarkDM

2010-10-15, 09:17 PM

Negeb

A shadow fell across Negeb, speeding over beach and grasslands until its edge touched the outer territories claimed by Hyb. Its speed was beyond that of any cloud, and were a stray passer by to look up they would be shocked by the monstrous form of the Sword's Guardian flying overhead, a longship clutched in its talons like a toy. Over sea, the trip from the Forgotten Isle would have taken weeks - on the back of the Dragon, it ad taken less than two days. Faolan marveled at the speed and ease of flight compared to his earthwalking, which had nearly killed him when he pushed it to its greatest speed. He gave little thought to the mortals below, and indeed the Wolf Lord remained deep in thought until the shining walls of the Craftsman's city appeared on the horizon. Faolan was excited for the first time in decades, eager to share his discoveries with his beloved uncle, and desperate for his counsel. Yet, when he returned to the realm of the now, Faolan felt unsure, and like a gust of wind that chills the spine the realization came that Eridi was not inside Hybil'Smita. Surprised, Faolan reached out in an attempt to locate the Craft god, but found only traces of him criss-crossing the world. In a moment, excitement was replaced by trepidation, and as the Dragon wheeled lower to the ground Faolan scanned the city intently for any signs of disruption or danger. Yet the only marked change in the citizenry was in response to the approaching titan, and when the Dragon landed outside Hyb's gates the sound of panicked screams cut through the mid-morning silence. Jumping from the back of his newfound ally onto the newly beached ship, Faolan grasped the two chests of librams he had intended to gift unto Eridi and strode into town. Despite the lack of armor and unfamiliar blade, the guards were quick enough to recognize the god of Vengeance, and cleared the way. Hurrying through the town, Faolan soon reached Eridi's workshop, and with a sigh he set down the chests before the door and turned towards the town.

"I bring these gifts to be entrusted to Eridi, god of the Forge. Let no mortal hand touch them, for they are protected by the gods."

Then, without another word, Foalan was gone, returning in a flash to his waiting mount and taking to the sky, cutting north through the clouds, Rognir's Ship, and the lions share of his library, in tow.

Givreterre, Three Days Later

The day of Faolan's return was marked by a terrible storm that raged around Caer Faol, driving all but the most determined to seek shelter indoors. As the Grey Watch trained and meditated in their dark Citadel, the sounds of thunder gave way to the terrible grinding of stone. Concerned that they may be under attack, the watch mobilized in an instant, almost one thousand warriors swarming through the Citadel, seeking the source of the sound. But it was Marek, high in his lordly chambers, who discovered the case of the sound and nearly collapsed form joy. Rising from the side of the mountain came a great plinth of stone, one side hollowed into a yawning cave large enough to hold an army, or one exceptionally large dragon. As the plinth stopped rising, an arching bridge of stone extended to link it to the Citadel proper, and through the black clouds came a familiar presence atop a massive beast. Faolan had returned to his people, and after securing Rognir's library within the most secure archives of the Citadel he sat in his throne room for the first time. As every member of the watch came forward to receive his blessing anew, Faolan felt a dark presence weighing on his mind, and as Marek delivered a tearful report of what had occurred in the years since Faolan's absence, he knew that they were not ready to meet the horrors that were bearing down on them.

Several Days Prior

The Commanders of the Grey Watch remained in seclusion for days following the arrival of the southern delegation. In that time, the foreign party received every courtesy, from salted baths to the famed roasted aurochs of the north. Almost the entire city was open to them, save the inner ward of the Citadel and the black spike of the Obsidian Circle, and their time of waiting was punctuated by the delights of a culture that had its origin in every continent touched by Rognir's children. Eventually, though, the Watch reached its decision, and the entire party was called to meet the Commanders in their inner chamber.

Led through a maze of arched corridors and exterior landings, the southern delegation eventually reached a set of double doors, inscribed with the symbol of Faolan and carved from black adamantine. The black doors swung open with a whisper, and before them stood a great circular chamber dominated by a taurus-shaped table, behind which sat the Commanders of the Watch. Upon seeing the visitors arrive, Marek stood from his high seat at the center of the table.

"Thank you for coming so quickly. We have given great consideration to your proposal, and it is the decision of the Watch that you shall have our aid. We simply believe that a few adjustments could be made to increase the effectiveness of the construct."

Marek unfurled a large scroll before him, and Kevfire could see a far larger version of the mobile fortress sketched out. Resting on six legs rather than four, this version bristled with weapons, and seemed altogether more suited for involvement in actual combat that as a mobile sanctuary.

The Sanctum of Delirium

Eithne had tried to keep her distance form Calantha after the theft of the first star. While she trusted that her lady was doing what she thought was necessary, Eithne's divinity was directly tied to the movements of the heavens, and even the smallest loss from that intricate pattern weighed on her soul as a portent of doom. But she loved the lady of madness despite this, and when she crept into her chambers to find her broken on the floor she rushed to her side, taking that tortured face in her slim, strong hands. Eithne was prophet and warrior, orphan and god, but she was no healer. Desperately she searched he mind for any magic that could aid a god, but she found none. All seemed lost, until like a blazing inferno a presence appeared in the North that had been absent for far too long. Faolan had returned, and Eithne reached out desperately to her father for aid. The water of the Wyrm's Eye had healed her once, and she hoped desperately they could help the child she held in her arms.

For hours that stretched into aeons she waited, fearing her message had been ignored. Was she not, after all, the child who had fled her home after being remade? Had she not abandoned her responsibilities as greatest of the Grey Watch to come live in a lair of decadence. Doubt gnawed at her, driving her further into desperation and fear, until a resounding knock came at the door. With a cry of joy, Eithne bid the locks of her mistresses' sanctum to come undone, and through the now-short hall came Faolan, clad anew in a mantle of white fur, clad in black leather, his wild mane clipped to a civilized length and a blood-red beard covering his face. Seeing the situation, he knelt down to embrace Eithne in a warm hug. For a moment she wondered at the wetness she felt on her cheeks until she realized the god of Vengeance was weeping, silent tears of pride and joy. The embrace had not alsted long enough when it was broken, Faolan turning to examine Calantha before returning his attention to Eithne.

"Daughter, we shall have to delay our reunion, I ear. Tell me, what had happened here?"
"I'm not sure. I arrived to find her in this state, barely conscious. I fear something terrible may have afflicted her, and I know of no better fount of healing than in the Den of Twilight. Please, father, you must help her."
"Indeed. There is something you are not telling me, Eithne, but for now I must ensure this woman's suffering is alleviated to the best of my abilities. Come."

Taking up Calantha's huddled form as though she were no more than a ragdoll, Faolan carried her out in the blinding sunlight of her false spring. There, lying in the snow just beyond the border, was a black mountain of scales and wings, larger than any building Eithne had ever seen. Though it had the body of a monster, its eyes showed a keen wisdom, and when it saw the injured goddess in Faolan's arms it lowered its head to allow him easy ascent to a black leather saddle strapped at the base of its neck. Eithne followed, and within minutes of his arrival they were in the air, the wind whipping about them as though they themselves were a hurricane. Nary an hour later, the mountain of Caer Faol loomed before them. Landing in the rookery adjacent to the Citadel, Faolan lead Eithne through the corridors of the Citadel to his throne room, where they passed through his symbol inscribed on the floor as though it were water and entered the Den of Twilight.

At the edge of the Wyrm's Eye, Faolan lay Calantha down in the shallows, allowing the cooling water to wash over her. Turning to his adopted daughter, he spared her a brief smile.

"Come, Eithne, I could use your help."

They knelt together then, in the sparkling darkness of the earth's womb, channeling the restorative powers of earth and water, the constance of the Moon, and the arcane traces of ancient blood into Calantha, willing her to return from the brink of her failed experiment.

Acts Used:

1 Major Act Used to attempt to heal Calantha

The_Snark

2010-10-16, 05:23 AM

The War of the Five Princes
Six years after Rognir's death

The war smoldered like the embers of a smothered fire all winter long. Things were hard in the north, where the cold was bitterest; it was harder in the heartlands, where famine and sickness lay heaviest upon the land. But it was hardest of all for the men of the eastern coast, for Ba Shaan refused to kneel to the seasons, and all winter long he pressed the assault. No army could stand before him, for ever since Varis's death he had marched at the head of his men, and led them into battle heedless of danger. His sword arm shattered shields and clove mortal warriors in twain, and arrows shattered against his shield like raindrops. There was no-one to oppose him; Hissai was no warrior and rightly feared for his life, and Ba Lutei either would not or could not take the field against her brother. By the time spring came, Ba Shaan was barely a week's march away from Hissai's capital on the eastern coast.

Then the snow melted, and the land burst aflame with war once again. All winter long, the prince Aradoch had prepared in secret, and now he set his plans into motion. Armies streamed down from the north to strike at Ba Shaan's flank and rear, harrying the weaker part of his armies and slowing his advance. Behind in the heartlands, the men he had left behind were struck by the greater part of Aradoch's forces, and such was the swiftness of the advance that many were taken completely unaware, and fell without even knowing who their attackers were.

Elsewhere, people muttered with discontent. Green things grew in the earth once more and they could eat, but the spring had given life to other, less pleasant things; a multitude of flies and other buzzing things arose from the verdant earth, and new plagues spread wherever they went, so that much of the new life sickened and rotted even as it grew. To the south a man claimed that it was a curse upon the people, for being unfaithful to Ateris and Kylfa-Madur, and men and women listened to him.

In the east, Ba Shaan found his advance stymied by the swollen rivers, which had turned the land between him and Hissai's capital into a nigh-impassable swamp. Aradoch was devouring his forces from behind, so he turned around and began to march back towards the heartlands. The men Aradoch sent to harry him were shattered, and soon he had arrived to protect his claim. The fighting there was long and fierce, for Ba Shaan's great army had suffered greatly over the winter, and Aradoch was a master strategist. When the rivers dried, Hissai and Ba Lutei marched to strike at Ba Shaan's eastern flank, and the great army was pinned in place like a boar caught on the hunters' spears.

At long last, Ba Shaan was brought down. A spear took him in the knee, and his shining armour for the first time failed him. His men rallied around their fallen prince and carried him from the field, but the wound became infected, and days later he fell into a fever. Healers were summoned to tend to him, and under their care he lingered for a time.

Then he stopped. His feverish moaning and tossing about gave way to a deathly stillness. When he woke was weak, but lucid, and the healers at first thought that the fever had broken. But soon he began to complain of dark dreams, as if in his sleep he lay buried beneath a mountain, or at the bottom of the sea. He could not see, he could not breathe, he could not move; there was nothing but crushing blackness all around. His strength, which had been recovering, began to falter. The healers said to rest, but he felt weaker with each awakening. Soon he came to dread the night, and stayed awake for days on end. Sleep, he said, was more tiring than waking now, and there was no rest in it. The sickness in his leg spread and began to devour him. It took what little of his strength he had remaining, and some of his pride as well. He came to believe it was a punishment, visited upon him for bringing war to his father's land and slaying his half-sister.

In the forest at the edges of the camp, the ancient traitors watched, and clutched poisonous memories with twisted fingers. They had endured the stifling dark for a long, long time, and it pleased them to visit their torment upon their captor's kin. Just this once, they would carry out their mistress's commands without resentment.

At the last, Ba Shaan sent messengers to his brothers to tell them he was bested, and to ask them to remember him kindly; and to his sister he sent a message asking her to come. By the time Ba Lutei arrived he was at death's door. His once-mighty body had wasted to that of an old man, and the flesh of his wounded leg was rotting away. But he was alive, and he clasped her hand and begged forgiveness for their differences, which she gave. That night she sat with him, and they talked all night long, to keep sleep from taking him. When dawn came, he was dead; but he had died with his eyes open.

So passed Ba Shaan.

Kaiser Omnik

2010-10-16, 12:47 PM

The Past
Caer Faol

Kevfire Loreweaver, leader of the souther deleguation, bent over the plans for the mobile fortress. He frowned, and studied carefully each of the modifications made by the Watch. He sighed and looked up to Marek with a faint smile.

"I suppose there's no other way, in a world so governed by war. Very well then! Work on the fortress will begin shortly. We are honored to have you on this project, Lord of the Grey Watch. All of humanity will be thankful for it."

The southerners left for their homeland that day. The construction of Brightflame Hold lasted several years, kept hidden from all but the people of the Hall of Dawn, members of the Grey Watch and select experts around the world.

1 minor act for the construction of Brightflame Hold

White Blade

2010-10-16, 12:51 PM

The Escape
Once the shield and sword were done, it was just a matter of timing. So, one night, as the giants came to drag away one of them for torture, they lashed out. Two were felled with ease, and three with little difficulty. But there were many guards along the parapet and bridge, and there were archers at the other end of the bridge. But Verdant marches forward, guarding himself and his lover with his shield, and no arrow touches them.

The stars tremble above, and the lovers smile. It is time. They know it. No giants will stand in their way! No evil will bar their path! They are heroes, they are gods... They are invincible. So they keep on marching forward. They reach the edge, and one harsh blow from Verdant strikes each archer-guard down. They escape down the mountainside, and though the journey is treacherous, the princess finds a way down the hill.

Then, at the worst possible moment, they run into an ambush. There is the red-handed, one eyed giant, his anger clear. And Verdant's last sword and shield in his hand. And battle commences, and success draws near, but the Red Hand corners Verdant and the pair are locked in a duel for long enough for Verdant to lose sight of his lover, and a pair of giants drag her off.

Then the other giants left. And Verdant and the Red-Hand were locked in combat for a little while, till Verdant got the upper-hand by knocking him unconscious with his shield. For a moment, his rage almost overtook him and he almost stayed to kill the giant... But there was not time. He had to save his lover.

He hurried after her and the giants that had taken her and, seeing them from afar, he hid and silently drew near to listen. He watched for a moment as his lover struggled, and his rage building, he prepared to rescue her, when he heard:
"Stop it! We had an agreement! I lead him into the ambush, you give me what I wanted. If the Red-Hand hears of this... If he finds out."
"He'll do nothing, little human. No one cares what you think. We'll kill you. We have what we wanted."
"No! No! You agreed, I'll pay you all back for this." And then her cunning eyes caught sight of her lover, and her mouth fell open when her voice failed her. And she looked him in the eyes and her eyes pleaded, No, please, don't leave me, please. Verdant shook his head and turned and walk away, hearing the sound of screams behind him. And he did nothing.

The Shield Of A'Gap
It took some pleading, but in the end Eridi agreed. The shield would be made and a prayer of honor would be given to all who had given themselves in the service of the tree. The shield touched the furnace, and the forming began, and Verdant placed his bared hands to the making of the shield besides his uncle and began to speak a prayer to his Aunt Sovvenia, of whom his father had such great fondness.

The chant went on for awhile and the gleaming scale began to reflect more and more light, till at last it caught sight of Verdant’s face and began to show something wholly different, like a painting on a canvas, here he is at his outset, young and grim before the world tree. Here he is, fighting the red hand; here he is, making his six swords and shields; here he is, making love to a beautiful maiden, who betrays him in the end.

Then the scene changes, and Eridi catches a glimpse of his father’s face in Verdant’s, and he sees Verdant missing an eye and holding the glowing seed. He sees Verdant standing against a host under the leading of the dreamer, and turning them back from the holy isle at the cost of his life. And he looks at Verdant, hoping to understand, and he sees only a nod of understanding from the young demigod.

Then he sees the brand of the tree that Sovvenia and Garadiel wore emblazon itself upon the shield in plain black against the yellow of the scale. And Verdant returns to his crafting, and there is a long silence, and then he lets out a gasp of pain, and his hand pours blood over the shield and it changes again. Where once the shield was yellow, it is now the shade of gold that appears in the perfect sunrise, and where once the tree was black it is now every color of the rainbow. And the shield grows firmer and stronger, and Verdant mutters one last sacred word and withdraws it from the flame.

And there it was, the Shield of A’gap, made from the body of a sacrificed hero, hallowed by the heart of a heroine, touched with the blood of a protector, made by the hands of Eridi, forged within the last embers of Rognir’s furnace, and sanctified by the blessing of the World Tree. There is something strange about the room for a moment, like a new, younger sun had shined on it for just a moment and then the fire goes out. Peace. The work of Rognir is done.

Verdant leaves, walking down the great hall, sparing a glance for only a moment to Rognir’s throne, wondering if he ought to stay and take it for his own. But no, he does not wish to rule this old relic, or waste away protecting it, there is a better world in his future. He walks down to Sunrise and takes it out to sea. He has need of a better blade.

So he goes and finds his uncle Shen Shi Zhu, on an eastern isle.
Two Major Acts to Create Major Artifact (The Shield of A'gap, to be detailed in the OOC thread, along with Verdant's ascension details.)

hi-mi-tsu

2010-10-16, 01:53 PM

The Wyrm's Eye, Caer Faol

The waters washed over the goddess, and returned color to her face; still, she was cold, nearly as cold as death. For three days, she laid in the water, unmoving, barely breathing; for three nights she shuddered, through some eldritch nightmare, lips parting in silent screams that faded with the dawn.

They are so cold

the stars are angry, angry with her but no it cannot test her resolve no

He is watching always watching waiting just beyond waiting for her to try but she must try for her for Aldric must live must try he will live even if she dies she will--

brightest light, blinding, searing, it hurts and it's ecstasy and she can control it must control it or it will swallow her whole.

On the fourth day she awoke, and the water surged away from her as she sucked in a deep breath; wild, mad eyes looked around her, and she did not recognize her surroundings.

"Where..." Her eyes fell on Eithne, and she reached out, gripping the girl's arms.

"Where am I? Where have you taken me?!? This is not home, I need to be home, there is work, he is coming..."

Her hands fell away from Eithne, then, going to her own hair. "Must stop him I must stop him, must steal his followers weaken him so he has no power must..." It was as though she had forgotten anyone else was there, so wrapped up in her own mind was she.

TheDarkDM

2010-10-16, 04:21 PM

As she grasped at Eithne, Calantha felt a pair of gentle yet firm hands grasp the sides of her head. In that inexorable grip, she was forced to look into the blazing crimson eyes of Faolan, the madness lying beneath them a pale reflection of her own dementia. They consumed her vision, blotting out the Den, Eithne, and the Wyrm's eye, and lent the voice that flowed from them a hypnotic quality.

"You must calm yourself. You are safe here, in the Den of Twilight, but you have suffered grievously. You must rest, and then we can prepare to face the threat is coming. But we cannot face it in panic or in fear, for if we do they have already won. Only by standing against our enemy with wisdom and unity can we hope to prevail. Now, breathe, for you are with friends."

ArlEammon

2010-10-16, 09:49 PM

So he goes and finds his uncle Shen Shi Zhu, on an eastern isle.
Two Major Acts to Create Major Artifact (The Shield of A'gap, to be detailed in the OOC thread, along with Verdant's ascension details.)

"Verdant. . . The Shield of Agap." Shen Zhi Shu mutters before revealing himself, once a raven, now a man, in front of Verdant. "I wish the gods were but a family. If only we were a dynasty like those started by Father Pan-Lung."

"I have not spent much time with my brothers and sisters. Instead I have decided to stay in Zhang so I can run the expeditions to all corners of the world. In order to protect the world, I must be everywhere at once, you understand." Zhang finished his tangent.

"Nevertheless, I bid thee welcome."

"What is it that you wish of me?"

White Blade

2010-10-16, 10:27 PM

Verdant took a deep bow from his waist, though he never bent his knees, "Oh Wise Phoenix Sage Shen Shi Zhu, your knowledge exceeds even my wits. This is indeed the Shield of A'gap," Shen Shi Zhu had heard of the shield from messengers from foreign lands and in a dozen stories already, though Verdant had not forged it a month before, and every story seemed to tell only that it was from a different source, or by a different hand, much as the stories of Verdant's own origin seemed to be that he was a child of every god, or no god at all. Indeed, Shen Shi Zhu had been amused to hear the young man was his own son.

But their purposes were, according to every legend, the same. The protection of a sacred tree. The story of the tree itself changed every time, but if you knew of it, it did not take Shen Shi Zhu to understand these were shadows of the world tree. The brand also, he recognized as the one Sovvenia had worn on the day of their first meeting.

So, he wore a suit of plain chain armor mixed with silk from the city. His eyes were sharp and belonged to none of Shen Shi Zhu's siblings. But the form of the boy was such that you might mistake Pan-Lung's human shadow for Verdant's. If he wasn't family, Shen could happily swallow his own shoe.

"I see the mark you bear upon your head, and know you are a peace bringing God, and I ponder in my heart, why do you wear it?"

ArlEammon

2010-10-16, 10:34 PM

.

"I see the mark you bear upon your head, and know you are a peace bringing God, and I ponder in my heart, why do you wear it?"

"It is a blessing from Father." Shen Zhi answered. "The Mark of War may be on my head, but in the end, even the greatest warriors are laid down by the most powerful foe of all, Peace. Even Pan-Lung fell to that dreaded foe." Shen Zhi Shu smiled. "Nonetheless, it is the inner war of men and gods that decide whether we are worthy of Peace or not. This is a truth that is independant of the cycles of incarnation, though it runs through the rivers of time. Peace and War are brothers, not enemies."

White Blade

2010-10-16, 10:47 PM

Verdant smiled and nodded his head, "What you say is true in many different ways," Verdant conceded, "But if indeed that mark is yours by right of Foldarhorrtin's blessing, then I have a request. I need not ask you if you have heard of Eneliel's sword, for it is in every mortal legend, more even than this shield, or this palace, or all but the august Aegiduch himself.

I have sworn an oath, noble Shen Shi Zhu, to protect the Tree which your noble father died to defend. In this quest, the Herald who stands within this world, has warned me of many threats. I know that in the last great battle, two were eliminated. I seek to remove a third," here his voice becomes guarded and quiet, and Shen knows that none but he can hear the words he speaks, or see his lips as they move, "The Sword of Rognir is sharp enough, the Herald said, to fell the tree. To protect creation, I must retrieve it. He has told me of an isle, guarded by a dragon mighty enough to best and better the giant kings and equal to a god. The dragon would not allow passage to any but one who bore the mark of Pan-Lung."

ArlEammon

2010-10-16, 10:50 PM

White Blade

2010-10-16, 11:00 PM

Verdant smiled, "I am grateful Shen," he said, shortening Shen's name as none but the most impious of westerners and his siblings had (though Shen had little doubt the boy had learned it from his divine parent, whoever they were), "If you will allow it, my boat is by far the fastest of any I have seen or heard of, save perhaps the Vessel of Rognir, but Sunrise is very kind boat, and though she is not always the most comfortable, you and I should be able to make the journey in relative comfort and ease."

If Shen Shi Zhu consented, they set out on the sea, pointed like an arrow towards the location of the Isle that Man Forgot

ArlEammon

2010-10-16, 11:05 PM

If Shen Shi Zhu consented, they set out on the sea, pointed like an arrow towards the location of the Isle that Man Forgot

And so it was

((Short post for the win))

hi-mi-tsu

2010-10-17, 01:33 AM

"You..." The mad goddess's hands reach out, trembling, to frame Faolan's face; her eyes search his, find recognition and familiarity, and she lets out a slow breath.

"I...know you. Remember you...but you do not understand. I have to go home, I must, the stars, you see...I was so close, just need to push a little more and I'll have him and then the world will be fine and Aldric will be safe."

Her fingers clutch at the fine fur of his cloak, at the leather of his shirt, and those wild eyes find his once more. "I'm fine, please, you have to take me back I have to go back I have to!"

Outside the Wyrm's Eye, the walls of Caer Faol tremble; strange shadow creatures appear across them and vanish in the next instant.

"I have to save him, I can't let him die because of me..."

TheDarkDM

2010-10-17, 06:49 AM

Faolan's eyes narrowed as he felt the disturbance outside the Den of Twilight, and as Calantha's hysteria grew he had little choice but to give her a gentle but firm shake.

"Get a hold of yourself. You are free to return to your sanctuary, but first please tell me what you mean. What do you intend to do to the stars?"

Kasanip

2010-10-17, 08:38 AM

Nari

Nari blinked.

"Strange? I'm human, and you look like you are very sick. But you have come here you say to answer questions. But if you are trying to answer questions, I would like to ask you to please answer them. If you are not ok, perhaps we can get a doctor and aid for you. But if not, I am afraid I still don't understand you.

You say I am of your family? And that you are a family of the Gods? And the story of the Gods is ending?"

And Nari frowned a little.

"But Lord Celestan surely is not ill as you may appear. Is there a disease on the gods?"

hi-mi-tsu

2010-10-17, 07:40 PM

Calantha's eyes narrow, when Faolan shakes her; she breaks free of his grip, pulling away, eyes darting around the Wyrm's Eye.

"Tell you? Why should I tell you, why, everyone is out to stop me, make sure we fulfill our roles, make sure we die, can't trust...tell you nothing and you fight me, tell you everything you try to stop me no..." She shakes her head, hair fanning around a face that is too pale, too thin, too pinched. Haunted, maddened, with eyes that have seen things they never should have.

"He would want me to tell, oh yes. I would allow him to step right in, if I told, for you would stop me, so I cannot...don't know you, never knew you, never knew anyone. Eithne is mine, you know, she's mine now, she helps..."

Jair Barik

2010-10-18, 05:17 PM

The Will of Nature

The world was indeed wonderous. It would be sad for it to die. Perhaps Celestan was correct. Perhaps this obsession with entropy had gone too far. Yet he second only to Garadiel knew the nature of death in the world. The only thing that sustained him was the new life that every day brought energy into his spirit yet every day the sorrow of the thousands of death from smallest insect to mightiest tree, poorest peasent to greatest king increased. Some days were worse than others but each death pained him.

"You are certain of this sire?"

"Oh yes Barnadine. Most certain."

Barnadine looked over the scroll once more a frown upon his face.
"In the event of your death you bequeath all to Faolan?"
Nara nodded.
"In the event of my death or of my departure from the land. My departure that is, not Nara's departure."

"Quite."

"All of my secrets, my realms, the spear, all of it is his wether I die, I am consumed or my soul ascends."

"From what I have heard he has little in common with you."

"And who do you recommend I give it to then Barnadine? Garadiel, my poor mad sister Calantha or her eccentric brother? Shen who shows no interest in nature beyond the use of paper for making books, or him? No, it goes to Faolan, that is the right thing to do." There was no rage in his voice now, only weariness.

"What of Orgo? It is always possible he will win out as opposed to N-.... Him."

"Out of the question, recent good behaviour aside his past sins condemn us. I cannot reconcile myself with him."
"He does not seek reconciliation, sire. He wishes to avoid that as much as you do. He simply wishes for you to work together to save you both from your shared fate."
"I have lied to Orgo Barnadine. Decieved him most cruelly. Promised him freedom when I know that my plans would result in his destruction. No. To leave it to him... there is no point."

"Very well then sire... To Faolan goes everything."

White Blade

2010-10-19, 11:11 PM

The sands are black, the sun is low but present on the horizon, and the journey has not been a short one, though it was conspiciously absent of any dragons. Verdant wondered if this was due to the fact that Shen was with him or if some other tresspasser has come along since his father and Aunt's visit. As they anchor Sunrise on the shoreline, Verdant decides not to comment, hoping to avoid any sticky questions from Shen, and he walks towards a house at the top of a hill. Its lights are not lit yet, or perhaps they are but are lit darkly.

He walks towards the house, the Shield in his hand giving off a very faint, shimmering light in its reflection of the sun. It was a mark of who he was, and what his being here meant, and he hoped that the man who saw it might understand. He had forgiven Rognir, after all, or at least parted with him on decent terms. The mark of the World Tree was plain for those who knew of the thing, and the scale itself... Well, if the Squire was as old as Garadiel expected, he might recognize it in its present radiance. (Garadiel was never quite sure, as he had received the knowledge of their enemies and the Squire, for all of it, was considered friend.)

His hand reaches the doorknob and piercing blue eyes stare at the wood. He hates to be here, breaking his grandfather's covenant, coming begging for a sword not his own. But there is no other choice. He raises a hand and knocks, his aged uncle by his side.

ArlEammon

2010-10-21, 05:37 PM

TheDarkDM

2010-10-23, 06:47 PM

As Calantha's rambling grew less coherent, Faolan shot a worried glance at Eithne. There she stood, in the deep twilight of her childhood, torn between her father and the mistress she had chosen to serve. Then Calantha's claim of ownership rang through the chamber, and the doubt and divided loyalty faded from Eithne's eyes, replaced by an anger that was all too familiar to Faolan. Staring at Calantha, Eithne's whisper echoed through the chamber.

"She is stealing the stars, hoping to forestall fate. There is a mirror in her home, of Eridi's design. I entraps whatever stars she focuses into it."

Faolan's face went slack with shock, before comprehension rushed in to fill the void left by departed pity. Surging to his feet from his kneeling position, he looked down on Calantha.

"That is madness, even for you. You would hand our enemies victory by undermining the very fabric of this world? What could possibly justify this?"

The_Snark

2010-10-25, 05:02 AM

The Far West

In the golden palace Ateris built long ago, there are two thrones. One is eight feet tall and made from precious metal, adorned with gold and jewels of all sorts, and well-worn, for the King who ruled here used it often. The other is smaller, forged from a steel so black that the designs engraved upon it are all but invisible. That one stood empty for many, many years; but now someone is seated upon it once more.

Thunder rolls overhead; the sky mirrors Lilike's mood, black and foul. Everything is going awry, falling apart. What her father and uncle governed effortlessly is slipping further and further from her fingers each day.

With Ba Shaan dead, Aradoch was left in a position of clear superiority upon the field. He had swept up most of the heartlands already, and even with their armies joined, Hissai and Ba Lutei could barely match his strength—and the Prince of the North was not Ba Shaan, to be lured into facing the enemy where he was strongest. He was clever and ruthless, and his mistakes were often merely a trap for the unwary foe who thought to take advantage. It was said that his mother had lived in the wilderness and hunted wolves for a living, using herself as bait; that was why the wolves of the northern provinces did not prey on women. Certainly the hounds his family kept were wolflike in manner and savagery.

He was pragmatic and competent and likely to win, and Lilike would have allied with him in a heartbeat... but she had reached that decision too late.

All across the heartlands, the teachings of a nameless prophet were spreading. When asked his name he said only that he was faithful, and he had many words for those who were not, in his judgment. He denounced the sons of Ateris for squabbling over a land which properly belonged to their divine father and no other, calling them the Vulture Princes and worse. He castigated the lords who followed these princes for their craven ambitions, and the soldiers who marched in their armies for their greed. Not even the common folk were spared his tongue, for they had stood by and done nothing while this holy kingdom was torn apart. But most of all he denounced Lilike, claiming that she had brought all the curses of the last six years down upon them by allowing a son of Rognir the demon into her father's house.

By all accounts he was fervent to the point of madness, full of bile and rage, and she could not fathom why anybody listened to him—but they did. The people were tired of the war, tired of the many curses that had been visited on them after the God Kings left. The Faithful, as they called themselves, were thousands strong now, and growing by the day. Lilike had thought to kill him at first, recognizing that the demagogue must be the man Garadiel had brought to this land in chains—damn her uncle, for making even his enemy into a weapon against her!—but that had proven a grave mistake. A bird with many wings had appeared in the sky and rained fire down upon her servant, and it had burned brightly as it died, exposed to the world in all its hideousness. Word spread quickly that a demon had tried to silence him, lending weight to his accusations. More and more, people called her the Traitor Queen, and spat when they said it.

And she'd just received word that Aradoch, damn his opportunistic eyes, had chosen to throw his lot in with this man, rather than his own kin!

She could not dispute the logic of it. Not all of the man's accusations were true—Rognir's son was not lurking at the heart of the palace and poisoning the land, and she certainly had not allowed him into her bed!—but there was enough truth in them that she could not disprove them. The people were turning against the God Kings' children; Aradoch eluded this stigma by embracing the teachings of the Faithful, publicly repenting of his greed and ambition, and declaring a desire for peace. He even sent emissaries offering a joint stewardship to Hissai and Ba Lutei; if they refused then they could be demonized, and if they accepted then he would be the man who brought peace to the land, not to mention the one with the largest holdings. He would win either way, at the small price of Lilike's reputation and life.

Fine, then; let them demonize her, let them paint her as the wicked sorceress. She will oblige them. Lilike's face contorts into a snarl of fury, and she clutches the armrests with clawlike fingers. If they think her wicked now, they will tremble in their boots when they see her unleashed...

Overhead the black clouds roil, an omen of blood and chaos to come.

Raz_Fox

2010-10-25, 09:12 PM

White Blade

2010-10-25, 09:28 PM

Verdant curses beneath his breath, in a rapid fire way. He rush through the house, but it remains empty still. Damn whoever did this... Damn them. Burn them and give them an ending they deserve. And the Sword? Where was the Sword? It was missing. He turned to his uncle with fear in his eyes, "Uncle... Something has gone terribly wrong," he said, fear lacing his words, "The Sword has been taken. Álrodores is near at hand. There is still work to be done and I must hurry to the Tree. Uncle, you are mighty and wise, will you return to the West and search for word of the Sword? There is still one last thing I must do before I can present myself to the World Tree and I cannot spend time scurrying to the left and right, searching for the Sword."

ArlEammon

2010-10-25, 09:35 PM

Nari and the Death-Thief

The man is silent for a long time, before speaking again in a hoarse whisper. "Yes, a disease, of age and ancient days. Of not letting go when your time came. Everything has a time, including me, and mine comes fast.

Now listen, Nari. You cannot win through swords. What is coming no blade can vanquish. I see it day and night, through the eyes of my pets. His great and burning desire, coming soon - so soon, so soon! The wall will break, and he will come in burning glory with a crown upon his head and a fire within his eyes!"

Garadiel and Shen Shi

After the third knock, the door creaks open. The house beyond is empty and dark, creeping decay in every corner. Cobwebs fill it, and rat's holes pepper the walls. This is a dead house, and there is not a breath of air within it.

Verdant curses beneath his breath, in a rapid fire way. He rush through the house, but it remains empty still. Damn whoever did this... Damn them. Burn them and give them an ending they deserve. And the Sword? Where was the Sword? It was missing. He turned to his uncle with fear in his eyes, "Uncle... Something has gone terribly wrong," he said, fear lacing his words, "The Sword has been taken. Álrodores is near at hand. There is still work to be done and I must hurry to the Tree. Uncle, you are mighty and wise, will you return to the West and search for word of the Sword? There is still one last thing I must do before I can present myself to the World Tree and I cannot spend time scurrying to the left and right, searching for the Sword."

Shen Zhi Shu And Verdant
"Alrodores?" Shen Zhi Shu whispered. "I will use my powers of insight now. . .I must use my power over knowledge itself in order to learn of the Sword. . . " Shen Zhi Shu concentrates and mutters, using an incantation to learn of where the sword was, combined with his abillity to know things through supernatural foresight.

OOC: Did Shen Zhi Shu find anything?

Raz_Fox

2010-10-29, 08:24 AM

Nari and the Death-Thief

The man coughs, hacking blood onto the table, before Nari can answer. "I am out of time myself. Damnation and ruin. Remember, Nari - he is coming, and you must stop him, before all is remade in HIS image."

He rises from the table, takes a few tottering steps, and then stumbles, falling to the ground. He never hits the ground; he explodes into a flock of ravens, which screaming fly every which way and off into the night, leaving no trace of the man who had been there.

Shen Shi Zhu

The powers of the god of magic work swiftly, and his consciousness flashes to the North. The sword is there, somewhere on the northern continent. His spell brings him closer, almost close enough to see who it is, but then he feels eyes upon him and the steely grip of a wolf's fangs; the spell is broken, and he is left to stagger back with a bleeding arm.

Faolan

For some strange reason, the god of vengeance feels a dark premonition, as if some ghost or demon had fallen upon his shoulders and was spying upon him. His pulse ran strangely quick, and a terrible chill ran down his back. What was that, that thing that had spied upon him?

White Blade

2010-10-29, 10:05 AM

Verdant's eyes flickers with something as he watches blood ooze out of his uncle's arm. He does not comment. He seems almost dininterested as he rips a bit of cloth off his cloak and tosses it to his uncle, "Bandage it," he says antisocially.

"I trust you can find your way off this island," he says coldly and hastily, without waiting for a response he hurries off and sets out onto the sea on Sunrise, hoping to put as much distance between himself and his uncle as possible. He is heading north himself, but for a different city. He must catch the dream and undo his horrid work.

hi-mi-tsu

2010-10-29, 01:28 PM

Calantha laughs, and the sound is wild, full of desperation and pain and grief.

"The world? Why should I care for the world, when the person of highest importance to me has vanished, and is condemned to die for you? When I am condemned to die with him, by the stars, for you?!?"

Her voice rises, and the waters behind her stir uneasily, sloshing up against the sides of the basin they're contained in.

"You all think that what I am doing is destroying...how do you know, how can you be sure, that I am not saving? That changing my fate, Aldric's fate, to die at the end of it...that ensuring we do not is not eliminating the need for an end at all? How can you know?"

She laughs again, and then her lips twist into a bitter snarl. "No, no, I understand. I saw this, you know, saw everything with them, used them. All will turn on me, all...all will call me traitor, none will understand. It has already begun." She tilts her head, looking at the sword on her half-brother's back, and her eyes gleam.

"I see it in you, Faolan Half-Tamed, Faolan Wildman...part of you wonders if the world would be better off were you to just end me." She bares her heart, then, the puckered and twisted ridge of scar tissue slick and ugly on her skin.

"Do it, then! Others have tried! But in doing so you bring about your own destruction, for I am to die at the end of the world, and you start it off!"

Jair Barik

2010-10-29, 02:46 PM

Long had he studied it from afar, long had he felt its presence, long had he heard the call. The world tree was the heart of the world. Should it die then shurly the world would wither away with it. But could it be replaced? What would happen if a second were to be seeded whilst the first yet lived? Should the tree fall would there be time for a second to be brought about before the world itself came to an end? Into the deepest reaches of the earth had Nara trecked. Caverns long forgotten by man in which beasts ancient beyond measure lurked in peaceful solitude. The roots of the world tree surely would stretch down here but that was not what Nara came to study. He simply sought to look at the layers of the earth. The minerals that composed it, the patterns and lines of the stone. He needed to see it all. Feeling was one thing but to see with ones eyes... there in lied the greatest truth. Yes. He understood this. These stones, this rock, those gaps within the formation. He had watched the waves, he had been one with all the forests of the world, he had memories of the landscape to the furthest north and furthest east. Now he would head out west and south to complete that understanding. Whatever the cost may be he must know all of the secrets of the natural world. If the worst were to happen he must be prepared, and any piece of information he lacked was but another place where he might fail.

TheDarkDM

2010-10-29, 05:33 PM

Faolan reached out to grip Calantha's throat, his other hand inching towards the hilt of Rognir's Sword. The lives ruined by Calantha's rage cried out to him, filling his mind with the heady intoxication of impending vengeance. The crimson in his eyes began to glow, and through the cacophony of the dead and the mad came a dark whisper, in the voice of his Grandfather, praising punishment and the defense of the world. But then, Faolan's hand stopped, and though his hand tightened into a vice grip for a moment he quickly threw Calantha away. Looking down of the goddess who was at once innocent and the greatest threat to the world as he knew it, Faolan felt pity overcome his rage, and a cold certainty dawned on him.

"Even you are not made enough to have begun this enterprise on your own. I had thought the fragment of our enemy's consciousness had faded with Sovvenia's death, but it seems he has dealt another foul blow to our family."

Reaching into a pouch at his waist, Faolan pulled forth the Trueflame Compass. Staring into its crystal face, he concentrated for a moment before it burst into life and light, pointing east with the determination and light of an angered god. Faolan flicked the artifact shut with a sigh, and looked back down at the goddess of delirium.

"You give him succor still, after all that has been revealed about his nature? A sad turn, Calantha, made even sadder by what I must now do. You are no longer welcome in this place - begone."

The shadows of the Den of Twilight, that had until now served to cool and console, grew heavy around Calantha, wreathing her like chains. She felt a sharp tug at her foot, and suddenly she was falling, first through water, then through stone, until the shadows released her and she found herself standing on the shores of Iuvenis, unharmed but many miles from Caer Faol. Turning from where Calantha had lain moments ago, Faolan sped up the stairs to the Citadel, Eithne trailing behind. At the lip of his seal, the god of vengeance caught his daughter and held her in a firm embrace.

"I go now to do what I must in order to save this world. Remain here - I give the defense of this city to you, my daughter. Be vigilant, for we do not know what other forces conspire with Calantha against us."

Then, the embrace was done, and Faolan was gone, rushing towards the lair of his great mount and speeding on the wings of a gathering storm towards Calantha's home, and the echo of an enemy he'd thought long since faded.

Actions Used:

1 Major Act to upgrade the Den of Twilight from a Divine Realm to a Divine Sanctum.

White Blade

2010-10-29, 10:13 PM

Sunrise is a swift boat, the swiftest on the seas, and Verdant at its helm is drive by more than the winds of the air, as the currents of fate ebbed and turned. The seas call out to the foe of Leviathan, they whisper words of encouragement and truths of power, but Verdant's sleepless eyes watch only for the horizon.

When he reaches the shore of the northern continent, he knows where he is to head, and the journey is far from a short one to that forbidden land.

The sanctum of Calantha was a place of legend, and fear, though perhaps normally it ought not be so. She was not a malicious goddess, her insanity not withstanding. But as Verdant walked towards it, it occurred to him that she had no reason to have mercy on him. He was a stranger, coming to kill a friend. But now, so far into the path, was not the time to turn back. He would enter and face whatever lied ahead. He might die. He might live. Fear had no place in the heart of a god, he recited to himself. Fear is weakness. Fear is pain. A god has and knows neither.

So he hefted his shield and entered the house of Delirium, praying to Sovvenia as he pressed the shield to his chest and walked forward. The maddening lights drive him into darkness, before the lights of shield pierce them, and he curses, "Sovvenia's brand," before he pressed forward.

TheDarkDM

2010-10-30, 12:33 AM

Faolan's mount came to a thunderous landing outside of Calantha's sanctum, his vast claws tearing deep gouges in the snow covered taiga outside the zone of springtime. Faolan sensed another presence here, not quite a god but more than a mortal, but he was too preoccupied in his mission to give it much mind. Dismounting, he landed heavily in the snow, and as he entered the unnatural meadow of divine power he drew the Sword of Rognir. Vicious whispers filled his mind, pushing him further and further into his rage, fed by the presence of Rognir's greatest foe. Coming to the door of the cottage, Faolan did not bother to knock, instead kicking in the wood and iron to reveal the twisting corridors beyond.

Striding into the domain of madness, heedless of the danger, Faolan was immediately lost within the twisting maze of corridors that sought to divert him from his target. Though any mortal would have been hopelessly lost within moments, and even a god could have wandered for years, Faolan's Trueflame Compass showed him the clear route to take, and allowed him to avoid the worst the Sanctum could summon. Yet even with this advantage, Faolan still encountered numerous mad puzzles and deadly traps. From choking curtains that animated when he entered scented pleasure dens to riddles of tea and temperature, Faolan pressed on. As he grew closer to the center of the house, the assault became more and more desperate, until only one door remained before him.

Stepping into the house's final defense, Faolan was shocked to find his boots buried in a deep snow drift. Looking down, he saw a well worn pair of boots he'd not set eyes on for over a century, and when he brought his attention back to his surroundings he was no longer in a house, but standing at the edge of his old village. As he stared in disbelief, his mother rounded the corner of their old cottage, no longer a frail old woman but instead the mother of his earliest memories, filled with vitality and warmth. She smiled at him, gesturing him forward. And with that gesture, Faolan was no longer a vengeance god, but a scared child in the dark. He staggered forward, reaching out to her, and as she opened her arms to embrace him he felt the calming warmth of his infancy. He had almost reached her, when the dark whispers began again. They cut through the haze that had fallen over Faolan's mind, and he saw that it was not his mother standing before him, but some kind of animate doll, its fingers tipped in razor blades. With a guttural cry of panic, Faolan whipped the Sword of Rognir forward, bisecting the blasphemous doll and dispelling the illusion. As his senses returned, Faolan saw that he was not in the wilderness, but a nearly empty room with a single door. Kicking the last door off its hinges, Faolan saw Calantha's home beyond the gateway. Sentient dolls huddled in the corners of her bedroom, and cowering underneath a table that held an elaborate tea set was a familiar sight - a boy with cats eyes.

White Blade

2010-10-31, 01:12 PM

Verdant took a small pen knife from his pocket and tooled about with the lock of the door of the Sanctum for what felt like hours before he at last turned the lock. He slid into the house and heard a click-thunk noise behind him, only to be assaulted by a mass of colors and images. For a moment, he could see it all, and his quarry not far from him, but then the images and illusions shifted and became more solid. He frowned. He knew it was illusion, his aunt's blessing and the nature of the place made THAT clear, but no matter how much he moved his feet, he could never seem to reach the place where he had seen his enemy just a second ago.

Moreover, the lights bloomed and shook sharply at him before disappearing, berating him like sharp words from his father (though, in truth, Verdant had never heard any). The room began to shift and shift again, and it made impossible for him to get his bearings. It was like trying to find your place on a sea, when the stars wheeled faster than any wagon's wheel. For just a moment he lost his bearings and then he found himself entirely elsewhere.

hi-mi-tsu

2010-10-31, 10:59 PM

Calantha, on the coasts of Iuvenis

"Fool! Charlatan!" Calantha's words ring through the air, and her eyes are wild; she pulls out the doll of her brother, and chants the words that allow her to go to her home.

Faolan thought to discount her, did he? Thought to invade her home without redress? Thought to go after her friend, as though she had no chance to stop him...?

He will pay.

Sanctum of Delirium, Calantha's Bedroom

As Faolan steps towards the eyes peering at him from under the bed, a Cheshire-cat smile appears in front of him, slowly followed by the materialization of Calantha--or at least, something that looks very much like her.

"Did you really think it would be so easy? That you could just walk right into my home, after the way you have treated me, and have no problems...? You are a fool."

The room faded abruptly, and Faolan was back in the snow-covered field, at the edge of the village; now, though, it was in flames. Bodies were strewn everywhere; a woman came running for Faolan, chased by a pack of vicious creatures. His mother was taken down practically at his feet, and an insidious voice whispered in his ear "See...? This fate is the true fate...the fate of everyone who grows close to you."

The image changed, and now it was Eithne at Faolan's feet, screaming in madness, clawing at her own skin, tearing herself apart. Then again, to his Grey Watch, falling on each other like hounds; again, and again, a whirl of images of everyone he cared for, dying in agony...until he was alone.

"Give up..."

Verdant

Verdant steps onto a field as green as his name, the World Tree growing tall and strong in the center of it; the gentle washing of waves against the shore provides a peaceful background for the nearly perfect scene. And under the tree sat a woman, reading a book; she looked up, when Verdant stood on the grass, and smiled.

It was her, the Princess of his past, alive and vibrant; she stands, and strides towards Verdant with a confident step.

"Hello, Verdant...have you come home...? Your father is waiting for you inside, with a guest...he calls himself Dreamer? He said he had a job for you..."

White Blade

2010-11-01, 09:24 AM

Verdant stares at the Princess for a long, dull moment. No. No. He had left her for dead, she had betrayed him, that was the price of betrayal. She was dead... Dead. The giant's were not known for their mercy. She was dead. He'd left her. She was past, she was old, she should have withered to dust like mortals did when they died. Why was she here?

"How?" he asked, before the Princess spoke of his father, then he hissed, "You were always a lady of deceit, Traitor. I thought I had found a part of you that was true, but I see now. I see. You were just the spider, lying in wait. Traitor is the only name that will ever fit you. For you to come here and defame my father like that... To come to my home." He is angry, his face is fierce and contorted with rage, and he forgets where he was just a moment ago, he lashes out and attempts to strike her with the back of The Shield of A'gap. It wasn't an attempt at a killing blow, even now he lacks the sheer will to slay his former lover. But being smacked upside the face by the Shield of A'gap certainly wouldn't be pleasant for anyone, let alone an illusion.

The_Snark

2010-11-07, 03:43 AM

The Far West

The All-Father had made many creatures when the world was young. Some were fair and pleasing to look upon, others great and terrible in their majesty, and both these were pleasing to Rognir. But in those days the All-Father had not yet perfected his art, and some of the things he wrought were not as he had envisioned them: some he completed but later regretted, while others he cast aside half-formed. They were his mistakes and his failures, hideous to look upon, misshapen and grotesque. Soon he came to hate the sight of them.

Fearing his wrath, these misbegotten creatures fled their creator. Some found refuge beneath the earth, whereas others ran and scuttled and crawled til they came to the lands at farthest edges of the world. The bloated poisonous wyrms which had resulted from Rognir's first attempts at creating dragons lurked beneath hill and dell, and the Pale Folk, banished from the sunlit lands for their unsightly habit of eating the dead, hid themselves behind the Western mountains. Giants walked the land without fear, for the All-Father rarely stirred himself to venture so far from his house in the East.

In this way, the Far West became the abode of monsters.

All of this changed when the God Kings arrived. The giants were slain or driven back beneath the earth. The lurking terrors which had once preyed upon men shattered upon the Almighty Shield of Mortalkind, and when they fled back into the dark they found the Ready Sword waiting for them. Yet it was not in Kylfa-Madur's nature to slay an enemy when he could instead bind it and keep it for his own use. Some became his servants; others were too stubborn or hateful to compel, and these were chained beneath the earth, bound by stone and spell. There they remained for centuries, a thousand monsters slumbering fitfully beneath the mountains.

Tonight, all that will change.

In the foothills, a thing which is caught halfway between man and tree screams silently up at the night sky. Long ago it turned one of Wyse's favored ministers to the service of the giants, and now its long-deferred final punishment for that betrayal is at hand. Its body warps and blackens, swelling til it resembles nothing so much as an enormous rotten fruit. Then it cracks, the woody flesh bursting and sloughing away, and there stands Lilike, home in the mountains for the first time in years.

There is much to do tonight; the Thousand Terrors aren't going to release themselves, after all. In her father's tower there is an iron-bound tome which holds the name of every foe he has ever vanquished. The spells of binding and slavery that he wrought so long ago will be spoken backwards; chains will break, and spellbound prisons crumble. Wolves and wyrms and all manner of ravening beasts will burst from their shallow stony graves and run rampant across the land. The bull Barabde will awaken and crack open his mountain-prison, and Lilike will stand before his ancient master, who ruled here before Eglasian and Wyse ever left their father's house, and demand that he kneel before her.

But not yet. There is something she must do before all of this comes to pass.

~~~~~~~~~

She almost doesn't find it in the dark. Night lies heavy over the foothills, turning the gentle forest into a twisted and dark place, full of grasping branches and looming shadows. But even in its fearful nighttime aspect, this place is familiar to her; you never really forget the landscape of your childhood. Soon the looming shapes resolve themselves into old friends, trees and boulders which she saw nearly every day for close to sixteen years.

The cottage sits in the middle of a clearing. There is no light in the window.

The door creaks terribly when Lilike pushes it open, and sticks halfway, refusing to budge. The inside is utterly dark, but she knows this house. She pads silently across the wooden floor to the window, and there is the lantern, exactly where it had sat all those years. She fumbles with flint and tinder for a minute before realizing that whatever oil was left in the lantern has long since dried up. No matter; she has other recourses now. She presses her fingers to the window for a moment, then brings them to her lips and blows on them. The bit of starlight she caught kindles in her hand, casting a wavering white light.

The floor is almost bare: three rickety chairs, a single wooden table, a tattered brown rug in front of the hearth, and that's it. Some of the floorboards are warped and swollen, a sign that the roof no longer keeps out all of the rain. In the pale starlight, the walls are washed out and grey, and she can see the fine cracks running all up and down the grain of the wood.

Truthfully, she'd known what she'd find ever since seeing the window dark and empty; her mother would never have let the lights go out while she lived. She'd hated and feared the dark. But it is one thing to know that something is so, and quite another to see it.

She remembers this place from better years, when it was filled with sunlight. Not merriment, though; not for a long time. She stares at the wall, and remembers a young child, who had broken the silence of the house with laughter and smiles, and tried to make her mother laugh with her. But slender grey Asha remained aloof, and the child's laughter had withered and died like a tree without water. She'd grown up in stifling silence, cared for by a woman who feared her daughter more than she loved her. (How young had Lilike been when she first realized that? Too young; she could barely remember not knowing it.) Now the place looks like it always was, on the inside: barren and cold and desolate.

It is a fitting memorial, she thinks in a rush of bitterness; but she doesn't want to look at it any longer. Blinking back angry tears, Lilike steps out her mother's door and drags it shut behind her. She does not come back.

TheDarkDM

2010-11-07, 08:06 AM

Faolan's knees buckled under the mental assault of Calantha's madness, unable to banish the images she conjured before him. Before, he had simply faced the pale imaginings of her creations, the remembered madness they could only pantomime. Now, he faced the primal force of insanity herself, and he felt himself slipping. The small, solid part of his mind that knew what he was seeing was unreal, that knew that the voice in his mind was not his own, slowly eroded under of a thousand forgotten nightmares, leaving him on his knees, stifling a scream. The conscious parts of Faolan's consciousness began to slip away, and for the first time since the disaster at Shale the beast that lurked within Faolan could feel the light of day. As consciousness faded from Faolan's eyes, the rage and madness of his crimson eyes began to shine forth, overwhelming the darkness around him with a crimson mist.

The Beast looked upon the illusions of Calantha without ear or pity, for what were they but the echoes of its captor's life? Gripping the snowy soil beneath its hands, the Beast's newly grown talons felt carpet and wood rather than soil, and it could sense that these images were but figments. Staring through the fire and blood of Calantha's nightmare, it sensed more than saw the goddess before it, And lunged forward with a snarl. Newly clawed hands reached out for Calantha's throat, tearing through the ether of her dreamstuff.

hi-mi-tsu

2010-11-09, 04:14 PM

The Princess screamed in agony, when Verdant's shield struck her across the face; she warped and dissolved into nothingness, and the young demigod's footing suddenly vanished. He was falling, falling through stars, falling through nothingness; the faces of his family, of all those he had killed, of all those who had depended on him spiraled about his head, mocking. Failure, they whispered, you have failed...

And then he came to earth with a sudden solid thump, and the World Tree was burning.

~~~

Calantha's eyes widen in shock, when Faolan--who was not Faolan any more, not truly--got up from the ground and lunged for her; too late, she realizes that his fingers were no longer fingers, but claws. She staggers backward, and nearly trips, and the Beast's claws do not close about her throat...

But they gouge it, deeply.

"Hglhk--" The goddess's hands go to her neck, and she stares, wild-eyed and stunned, at the creature in front of her; around them, the walls of her House shudder violently, as though caught in an earthquake. And her illusions dissolve, all about the house; the World Tree, so prominently featured in Verdant's vision, fades to nothingness and reveals a plain wall in front of his eyes.

Calantha reaches for her bed, for a sheet; she tears through it, and shaking hands begin to wind the fabric around her throat. But it is blood-stained, so swiftly, her hands are so red, like they have not been in a very long time...

And the Goddess weeps, a child, unheeding the creature that only wishes her and her friend ill, as she continues to wrap the silken fabric around her throat.

Aldric...

TheDarkDM

2010-11-09, 05:50 PM

The Beast tasted blood. Sweet, young, tortured innocence wafted through its nostrils, intoxicating and heavy. It saw Calantha fall away, reduced somehow, as well as the mortal boy standing in the corner. He was no threat. A low rumble of pleasure sounded in its throat as it slowly stalked towards Calantha, its eyes the only clear feature in the growing shadows of the grieving house, and it seemed clear that it desired more from her than a simple taste of divine vitae. The clawed hands reached out, and almost touched her, but a voice sounded at the back of the Beast's mind, a voice that was familiar, hated, but a voice that had to be obeyed. Stop, it begged, remember our purpose here. And the Beast looked down and saw the childlike form of Echo still cowering beneath the bed. With a guttural roar of triumph, the Best sent Calantha's bed flying with a single swipe of its arm and closed a hand around Echo's throat, lifting him like a rag doll. The eyes of a demon wolf peered deep into the cat's eyes of its enemy, and hurtled the boy against the far wall.

Echo landed with a sharp crack, splintering the paneling beneath him before falling to the ground. The Beast was on him in moments, moving faster than any creature had a right to, and dragged him back to his feet. Once again the monstrous hand gripped Echo's neck, and he was hoisted to eye level and thrust against the wall again and again with bone breaking force. Seeing the boy dazed, the Beast reached back and gripped the Sword of Rognir, and as it did the song of its fury erupted in the ears of the assembled divinities, an aria of rage that was both beautiful and terrible. The blade left its sheath without a sound, and as its point hovered above Echo's heart, the Beast spoke.

"What, no resistance? Pathetic. Still, not all is lost - I shall have some fine sport from your guardian when you are dead."

And then the blade sang forward, rushing towards the possessed thing's heart.

Jair Barik

2010-11-09, 05:54 PM

A small red blot upon the pristine blanket of white. That is how he appeared from high above. How pitiful a form he must have looked from up there. A God of not in name then in blood, yet so small compared to the vastness of the world. But then, were they not all? Gods they may well be but they each seemed to keep a mortal stature, mortal form and mortal weakness. So who then were the Gods here? The stars? The moon? The endless expanse of the night sky that stretched high above him? Or the Earth and the tree maybe? Not Nara or... well Nara, but the Earth itself. Dominion they may hold over it but it was the real master in this relationship. They were bent to its desires, its needs, when it was wounded they both felt the blow and as it died, as it slowly wound down towards its inevitable point of decay so to did Orgo feel his own power wane. Entropy.... bah! The book had been a good start, it had held off this feeling for some time but even those dark powers no longer seemed sufficient. His emaciated form pushed onwards north through the blizzard. He really should avoid these moments from now on. Whenever he was alone like this his mind seemed to wander, to think. It was not a pleasent feeling philosophy. He could feel something big happening in the north, perhaps another death. But that was not why he was here. He did not go to that house any longer. Not since long ago. One time had he been there and he did not even get to meet the mistress of the house. The master had mad it quite clear he should leave that place. And so he left it well enough alone, no longer out of fear, that had long since subsided, but out of respect. He was perhaps the biggest wolf of them all, he had authority and rebellion in his spirit and would have made a worthy heir to the divine throne. Wether he had left this world or not though Orgo maintained a sense of loyalty to that violent youthful soul and bitter as his own soul may be Orgo liked to think he held honour as the one absolute truth of the world.

Enough thought though. Onwards north. The hunt was a failure. His men had found no lead that turned out worth following. And so north. North to that which he seemed to hold best affinity to. Cold, darkness, savagery, curses and ones older perhaps than time itself. Bones of one he would have liked to meet. Bones whose sent he would hope to catch.

Nefarion Xid

2010-11-09, 06:51 PM

A sound pierced the otherwise still night in Hybil’smita. It would be remembered for years after, though no one ever spoke of it. No one wanted to admit to themselves that they’d heard it, least of all have someone else confirm that such a thing had ever transpired in their city. If no one talked about it, it was like it never happened. Perhaps they would forget if only they stopped playing it over in their mind every time they found themselves alone in the dark. It was a facsimile of a scream, thought it was more aptly described simply as “the sound of something horrible happening”.

The young soprano, Alissandre Garnier, went mute in the middle of her aria and stood perfectly still on stage with her hands clasped and pressed against her diaphragm. She began to weep with her mouth agape, never sobbing once, not daring to make a sound in the opera house that had fallen silent as the grave. Her beautiful face contorted with agony. The maestro froze with his baton hanging precariously on his finger tips. Backstage, a crewman had shattered the neck of his bottle of wine and blood poured from his fingers; he was petrified like the rest. A short eternity later, startled gasps and muffled wails went out from the audience and the world began to return to normal. Guards darted about, shouting orders and tending to the poor ladies (and more than one gentleman) who had simply fainted from the interruption.

When some of the commotion had died down, Captain Bailleul reached Box 5 to ask the opera patron if the performance should recommence. Marquis LaChance was not in his seat and his guests could not recall seeing him leave. Curious, since the mysterious and debonair patron hadn’t missed a single performance in the entire history of the theater… which had only recently been constructed, and entirely from his private funds.

About the roof the gargoyles creaked and strained their necks northward to catch a fleeting glimpse of an enormous pair of wings eclipsing the moon.

hi-mi-tsu

2010-11-09, 07:01 PM

Don't hurt him! The anguished cry was mental; Calantha lacked the ability to speak, now, clutching the sheet to her shredded neck. She groped after Faolan--after the thing that had taken over Faolan--and her blanket flew off the tattered remains of her bed, to enshroud the attacker and pad his blade.

Don't! He is all I have, the only one who truly understands, everyone else is gone--

The goddess weeps tears of frustration and pain, and the blanket becomes as heavy as iron, trying to bear the Beast to the ground.

Leave us! Why can't you just leave us?!? He is good, curse you, he promised!

It was hard, so hard to maintain the strength...she was so tired. She just wanted to sleep...

TheDarkDM

2010-11-09, 07:36 PM

The Beast grunted as Calantha's ensorcelled blanket struck its arm, dragging the tip of the blade down from Echo's heart, until it merely scraped along his ribs as it hit wood. The shroud was heavy, terribly heavy, and any mortal would have been crushed beneath it. But the Beast had been confined for decades, feeding on its own darkness and rage, and no barrier would stand between it and vengeance it lusted after. Releasing Echo, the Beast dragged the blanket off itself and threw it onto Calantha, twisting it around her like the wrappings of a mummy, until only her face was left free. Straightening, the Beast laughed at the entangled goddess.

"Good? Promises? You are far too trusting, my pet. He would have sold your soul had it brought him closer to his goal, and he would laughed while doing it. He has turned even your pity into a weapon. But fear not - I shall save you from him."

The Beast wrenched Rognir's Sword from the wall, and with a mad laugh brought it down on Echo's neck. Time seemed to still for a moment, as the feline eyes of a boy filled with terror begged Calantha to save him, begged a universe he hated for mercy. But not even the madness of Calantha could stop time, and as she watched the blade bit deep into Echo's back, spraying dark crimson across the plush scarlets and purples of her bedroom, staining the peace of the house in the stench of death. The Beast howled then, howled for death and vengeance and the coming of night, and looked towards Calantha with a face streaked with the blood of her confidant. Bending down, it took Echo's chin in its hands, only to have the boy moan in pain, still very much alive. The Beast chuckled, and dropped the bleeding child, seemingly content to let him bleed to death. Then, wiping the blood from its blade on a stray wisp of silk, the Beast advanced on Calantha.

Where once its pace had been manic, berserk, the Beast stalked now, too agile for the body it possessed. Like some monstrous wolf it padded up to Calantha, drawing the tip of its blade over the blanket holding her captive. Like magic, the bindings split, releasing the goddess onto the floor of her ruined sanctuary, a floor slick with the blood of a young man. Looking down on her with its blazing eyes, the Beast's throat growled with a different kind of hunger.

"And what shall we do now, my pet?"

hi-mi-tsu

2010-11-09, 08:07 PM

Not...your...pet... The words were snarled into the Beast's mind, as Calantha shoved herself away from him; if he were truly as base as he seemed, however, he would be able to smell the stink of fear. But she must keep his focus on her...not on Echo, though her heart cried for her friend.

Her servants had slipped into the room, as silently as only a doll could move; now, with one eye towards the Beast, they were bundling Echo up to move him away. Somewhere safer, somewhere more hidden, where they could patch him up and keep anyone from finding him.

The Goddess wheezed, sucking in a deep breath, then lifted her head; her eyes blazed defiance at the Beast, challenging him.

You are nothing...and I will never surrender to you!

TheDarkDM

2010-11-09, 08:26 PM

The Beast seemed unbothered by the fury of the goddess. Indeed, in it mind Calantha could sense a perverse glee at her defiance. Kneeling down, it sheathed the Sword of Rognir and looked into the eyes of madness.

"No, not yet. But you don't know what I am, my lady. The Half-Breed title Faolan carried for so long was truer than any of you knew. Part of him is pure and divine, yes, but vengeance is rarely the clean act he tries to make it. Vengeance is darkness and sorrow and hate, and that is what I am. I can smell the anger behind your fear, the ages old grudge against father and siblings. Those feelings you try so hard to hide behind madness and innocence are laid bare. For I am the corruption within your soul, the hate within your purpose, and I wish to set you free."

The Beast drew a long claw across the pal of its hand, and as it did black blood began to pool in its palm, blood corrupted by the hate and wrath of all the world since the very beginning. Tearing aside the bandages around her neck, the Beast thrust its palm against her wound, forcing its own poison into her veins. Calantha felt a tightness spread through her body, while at the back of her mind all the fear and rage and hate she'd never acted upon exploded into her consciousness. Pity, mercy, and hope began to melt away, replaced slowly by gleeful darkness and a wolfish hunger for corrupt vengeance. The glow of the Beast's eyes began to grow in hers, and as she looked she began to see, not an enemy, but a friend.

hi-mi-tsu

2010-11-09, 11:36 PM

The cry of the goddess is a maddening thing. It stops the servants in their tracks, for a moment, down the corridor where they had taken Echo; the house shudders with it, walls warping, cracks forming only to disappear, and reality shifts.

A dungeon, dank, smelling of blood and rot--

The room of Stars, condemnation--

Shale--

The Uttermost West, and a man with a hat who demands a boon--

Calantha surges to her feet, clutching the bloodstained necklace Rognir had given her, and her face twists into a mad, insane grin. The sheet around her neck falls to the floor, forgotten; purple and red threads stripe through the wounds, mending them in a way that is almost beautifully grotesque.

"So." Her voice is of a different caliber entirely; it echoes with a hundred voices, all of them full of pain and rage and grief and a driving lust to cause so much suffering. All of the thirst for revenge, all of the hate that she'd kept away, behind shields in her mind that she herself hadn't even known existed...now free, and the reality of Calantha, who she truly was, an innocent thing, was sealed away.

It was almost casual, the flick of her wrist that sent the Beast flying into the wall, shackles of iron fastening him there; her eyes gleam, and the nail of her index finger sharpens to a fine point, which she draws down over his chest.

"You caused me pain..." Her free hand goes to her throat, absent-mindedly, and she continues her slow, idle tracing of her nail over the Beast's chest, down to his stomach and back up again.

"You hurt my friend, the only friend I have." Her face twists into a snarl, and she almost--but not quite--pierces skin.

"And now you infect me, with this poison, your insidious toxin inside of me, and expect that to make us friends?"

Her smile comes back, even wider than before, as gleaming eyes meet the Beast's.

"You have no idea what you have wrought."

TheDarkDM

2010-11-09, 11:55 PM

The Beast was surprised by the viciousness of Calantha's reprisal, its body failing to brace for the sudden impact and the binding chains that followed. As she traced her needle finger over its chest, it watched her carefully, breathing heavily. But as she finished, the Beast did something Calantha did not expect - it laughed, a deep, hearty bellow of pleasure and achievement.

"Oh, but don't you see, Calantha, I do. Even at your most controlled I could sense the rage fighting to escape the shackles of your old morality. This Echo was nothing but a crutch from your former life, supporting the patchwork thing you'd become. Now, you are whole, and your scent is filled with the manifold flavors of suffering and malice that denote true power. You are beautiful and you are free. How could you expect me to keep you confined?"

hi-mi-tsu

2010-11-10, 11:17 PM

Echo--

Echo--

Calantha staggers backward, and on her face is a myriad of conflicting emotions; hate warred with guilt, love with pain, grief with rage. The goddess clutches her head, crumpling to her knees; the shackles on the Beast's arms turn to flowers, then glass, then chains again, then ice.

She whimpers, shaking her head, and the eyes that meet the Beast's are blackpurpleredemptiness...

"Wrong, it's wrong, I am wrong, why, why--" She flinches away from the Beast as though his very presence burns her, shaking her head again and gripping her arms hard enough to draw blood.

"Nonono don't hurt, I don't hurt, I'm good! I'm good, damn you!"

White Blade

2010-11-10, 11:58 PM

The fire was a thing its own. So hot, so dark, so eternal. It was not even the still, black silence that his father had described as he attempted to explain what might happen should the Tree fall. This was the fire that swallowed up and left ashes. And before his own eyes, Verdant saw a thousand, a million worlds try to bloom and die beneath the terrible embers. Innocents, so many, so far, forever. Death fell harsh and high, destruction swallowed and burned, it was ill-fire, like the fires that warped the damned.

And beneath it stood all, eternal agony, burnt and suffering and screaming and robbed of every good thing. It was terror before terror, fire beneath the judgment of an angry god. A God. And it was his failure. His brokenness.

He lay alone there, watching it burn, trapped beneath memory and terror and hate, and he knew no name or time, no thing or feeling. This... was despair. And he felt terribly, terribly old. And then, after what would be measured in days from the outside, he heard something on the wind, something strong and sharp and real. The scream of Calantha, though he knew it only from his father's words.

Then a man appears before him, the fire stops and burns low and flickers out. He has two eyes, now, and he is somehow more whole and real than he was when he was seen by his sons and daughters. It is like all the empty places of him had been filled and there is a smile on his face that has not been seen upon the face of the world since Rognir smiled at his son's message of love before he fell slaying Ateris. Perhaps it is a dream of Calantha's, of the ideal father she ought to have had. Perhaps it is a dream of Garadiel's, of his father's final state, perhaps it is a dream of Verdant, of his hopes for his own life. But somewhere with in a sanctum known for mad happiness there was a good dream for the weary warrior.

Rise! the being commanded, both soft and strong, Will you let them torture her again? Rise! Take the field. We have learned, our fear was for nothing. Death is no fear.

So Verdant stumblingly stood to his labored weary feet. The scuffing of boots against the Sanctum's floor. It's real floor. And then he drifted forward, he found himself in the doorway to the room, and he saw a little girl (perhaps not so little any longer, yet still, in his eyes, a child) lying on the floor in a fit, and a beast chained whose name he did not know, but knew had throttled his father's throat.

"You," Verdant hissed in recognition to the beast, "It was you who took the sword. You who have drawn the blood of Rognir's family, which he forbade his sons and daughters when the world began."

Verdant began to step between the beast and his aunt, well that was a strange thought, his shield before him, practically glowing in happiness at its master's protectiveness.

TheDarkDM

2010-11-11, 01:14 AM

As Calantha staggered back, the Beast strained against the ice of its restraints, weakening them with its control of water and its monstrous strength. As the bonds shattered, the Beast staggered forwards, chuckling darkly at Calantha's distress and rubbing the circulation back into its wrists.

"Oh, your old self would like to believe that, but the darkness is a part of you, my pet. Struggling against it will only lead to more pain - embrace the rage of your soul, join me in the whirling storm of desire and vengeance, and you will move beyond all pain."

The dark presence of the Beast spread forward, forcing the corruption of its blood further and further into Calantha's being. But even as the evil of its purpose pushed her pure self further back into her psyche, another voice sounded in her mind.

"You must fight him. His will is strong, and his corruption has stewed for decades, but your mind is stronger than you know. Fight him!"

The Beast had nearly reached Calantha by then, its hands wreathed in ephemeral corruption that threatened to overwhelm her even from a distance. But the a figure came between the Beast and its prey, a little mortal thing wielding an artifact that radiated power far beyond his own. The Beast drew back from the light, before drawing Rognir's Sword and laughing in the face of this last guardian.

"The scent of death lies about you, child. It seems that old fool finally managed to woo something that still lived. Move aside, boy, you meddle in the affairs of those infinitely your greater. Flee this place, or you will feel the wrath of all the beings you have wronged in your short life."

White Blade

2010-11-11, 01:27 AM

Verdant took a moment to figure out what the beast was saying, only to realize he was referring to his father. How? HOW! He had kept it his deepest secret and now this beast plainly implied it to the ears of his enemy. Scum. He endangered more than he knew, more than he understood. The shield shone brightly, as Verdant rested his hand lightly upon his blade-hilt, whispering a silent prayer to his aunt Sovvenia before staring the beast down.

"Blood-takers have no triumph before me. This woman is of my blood, and she is mine to protect, mine to guard, mine to care for. She is family, dog, though I doubt you know the word. No sword has been raised against me to prevail, nor shall Rognir's own blade. Turn back, and I shall let you live. But your stolen blade and your bloody fangs have no place in the skin of my kindred. Do not listen to this dog, Calantha. He is both a liar and a lunatic, and he has stolen what he is not entitled to and destroyed the home that guarded it and slew its' protector."

TheDarkDM

2010-11-11, 01:45 AM

The Beast only seemed more amused by Verdant's outrage, twirling the Sword of Rognir as it assayed him. Meeting the Beast's eyes, Verdant saw something he never had before - true fearlessness. Even the giant king he'd slain had possessed some sliver of doubt, a specter of uncertainty. But this monster had nothing behind its eyes but rage and joy, bloody fire fueled by the screams of millions of unavenged dead.

"You speak of matters you do not understand, boy. Your ignorance betrays your true weakness - you know nothing beyond the skewed myths of your father and the elaborate childish fantasies you yourself have constructed. It falls to me to educate you."

And then the Beast lashed out, not with its blade, but with its boot, the force of the impact almost jarring the shield out of Verdant's hand and propelling him backwards. Then the Beast was behind him in a blurred leap, planting an iron fist into the small of his back.

White Blade

2010-11-11, 02:04 AM

Verdant did not fall. Perhaps I should repeat. Verdant did not fall. Struck by a god to the back, the demigod stood steady.

There was a long, slow moment and Verdant pressed down onto his legs and then pushed, slamming himself upwards and backwards into the beast's chest. But the beast was too quick, and easily dodged the maneuver which might otherwise have collapsed his neck beneath Verdant's skull. Still it gave Verdant space to draw his own blade and protect ready his shield better. He does not lunge, waiting instead for the press of the enemy as he stands uncomfortably close to Calantha.

There is the smell of fear on his breath, but there is neither shaking nor trembling. He is something altogether different from his father, who had indeed been terrified and shaking when the beast had held him aloft, rendered speechless by fear. He is sharp and steady still, and his blade is ready for the attack and The Beast realizes that his skill may well match its own, though he is slower, as one might expect of a demigod. Still, it seems as if he is accustomed to dealing with faster opponents. His blade is readied for an avenging strike if the beast should make another attempt.

TheDarkDM

2010-11-11, 12:58 PM

Seeing the demigod draw and ready his weapon, the Beast fell back into its stalking stride, edging around Verdant from one direction, then another, always with a mad smile on its face. Sniffing the air, the Beast growled as it smelled Verdant's fear.

"You have some skill, boy, I'll give you that. But skill meaningless without the power to support it."

And then the Beast was rocketing forward, bringing the Sword of Rognir shrieking into Verdant's shield. As the blade and the scale of A'Gap met, a thunderclap went through the room that flattened furniture and sent Calantha's servants flying. Verdant felt his arm strain against the blow, nearly breaking from the Beast's fury, but he stood firm. Then came Verdant's blow, a killing stab that flew unerringly towards the Beast's black heart. The dark thing had underestimated Verdant, as had so many before, and would now pay the price. But as the point of Verdant's sword closed on its chest, the Beast twisted away like some demonic serpent, until the blade merely gouged its side. Still, the cut was deep and true, and the black blood of the once-god fell to the floor. Any sane opponent would have screamed in pain and withdrawn, but the Beast stood its ground, hammering away at Verdant's Shield until he felt he could no longer support its weight. For every blow the Beast struck, Verdant returned on in kind, but the pain and the blood only seemed to drive the Beast further, and when they parted after what seemed an eternity it stood tall. Verdant could barely contain a gasp as the Beast wiped away the blood of its manifold gashes to reveal the already-knitting skin beneath, its injuries healing in the blink of an eye, until Verdant's manifold blows were reduced to a criss-cross of scratches along the Beast's iron skin.

"Do you see, son of Death? Your skill may be impressive, but you cannot match the might of a true god. Now, suffer the wrath of those you have harmed!"

The Beast charged then, but as Verdant raised his shield to block another thunderous strike the Sword changed hands, whipping out to catch Verdant's blade and prevent a counterattack. Then the Beast's clawed hand had closed around Verdant's face, and as talons dug into his scalp he was assailed by pure, undiluted pain and rage. The terror of a cultists fleeing a hunter in the night, the rage of scores of giants laid low by a mortal son of their enemy, and the pain of a love abandoned. All of these assaulted Verdant's mind, reaching from beyond the veil of death to batter his spirit and rend his flesh. Beneath untarnished clothes, deep bruises began to form as phantom limbs pummeled the Squire of Rognir, all while the Beast's unholy laughter filled his ears. Then the pain suddenly ended, and Verdant was flying, thrown from the Beast's grasp into the stone wall beyond. He collided with the barrier with a resounding thud, leaving behind a crumbling indentation as he slid back to the floor.

Jair Barik

2010-11-11, 01:44 PM

The scent of bones still fresh in hsi nostrils Orgo answered the call. Riding a raft of stone that heeded his call he sailed across the seas towards the island at the centre of the earth. As it gently came to the shore of that brilliant isle Orgo lifted one leg to lay his foot upon the ground when memorey, painful savage memory, struck him. Darkness and death, murder and bloodshed. He could not step on this ground, would not step on this ground.

"Lies and blasphemy! You call me a God but it is not my desire! I am not of their ilk! Why do you voices persist in calling me? Back I say! Back into the abyss from whence you came for I am a mere fragment of what you seek, half of that you mean to call and my arch enemy a half also! Back then! Leave me be! I did not ask for this, did not call it, did not seek it out or seize it as my birthright. So why do you still persist? I offered you my service and my respect. Offered you my fealty because I am not one of you but still you treat me as your equal! Why!? Why do you torment me so!?"

Raging as though against some unseen foe Orgo tore great lumps of hair and flesh from his face revealing from beneath not te face of a beast or a monster, but the face of a man. Yet even as he tore at himself the face of the wolf grew back long and fanged, roaring at the universe in contempt.

White Blade

2010-11-11, 04:36 PM

A gaunt figure flies above the isle, it's eyes sparkling like stars beneath the hood of a traveler's coat. Then, it pulls its hood down and its eyes seem starry no longer. Celestan recognizes his uncle from the brand upon his face and from his prior meeting. His uncle smiles at him and nods before turning to stare at the shoutting, writhing manifestation of Orgo. He shakes his head at the god-beast. Then he looks at his nephew again. He is as taciturn as ever, it seems.

hi-mi-tsu

2010-11-11, 08:19 PM

Thump.

A low, rolling pulse.

Thump.

And another.

Thump.

Another; the pace quickens, and soon the rolling beats were something that sounded very much like a heart. The walls of the room pulsed; in, out. In, out. In...and the floor picked up the beat on the out, going concave, then convex. The room darkens, gaining the arterial red hue of blood, then going darker still, nearly to blackness, then back again; the color pulses with the same tempo as the walls and the floors, giving everything the eerie, surreal feeling of being inside a heart.

"Music..."

In the middle of the floor, Calantha crouches, humming an old, old tune to herself, hands clasped over her ears; the temperature drops, cold enough to see breath, cold enough to chill blood in the veins.

"Fight you..." Her voice wavers, and it is afraid, but there is a core of strength in her chest.

"Fight you, like them, I'll fight you..." Her eyes blaze as she lifts her head, to gaze at the Beast. And, though it takes all she has inside of her, she drags herself between Verdant and the creature.

"Cannot take him...will not take him...there is something coming for you, coming for everyone, consuming, will consume you!"

Her face splits into a mad, insane grin, and the doors of the room blow open.

Nefarion Xid

2010-11-11, 08:43 PM

A black void of a silhouette stood in the doorway, stark and ominous against the northern sky. It stepped forward, dragging something enormous behind it. The sound of steel on stone followed. It was like a castle wall being shorn in two by an enormous scalpel. It stopped as the figure drew into the pulsing light of the room. Shadows rose up like lazy flames from his form for a moment before being extinguished by a sudden, audible exhale. His neck crooked at a pained angle, but his expression remained blank. He was drenched from head to toe and in places ice still clung to his tattered clothes.

Aldric had veiled his divinity for nearly two decades. He’d ripped it away in an instant when he felt his sister’s pain. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d held Despair. His arm burned, muscled exploded and strained against bone. The monstrous scythe in his hand became lighter as it gave its dark blessing; eager to beget more suffering and already drinking in the growing fear in the room. Aldric shouldered his weapon and finally cast his gaze on the two combatants.

His broken, bleeding lips crack open. He whispers, “Who… who hurt my sister?”

TheDarkDM

2010-11-11, 08:46 PM

The first rumbling beat of Calantha's Sanctum went unnoticed by the Beast, so intent was it upon its prey. Not so the second beat though, as even the hunger of the Beast could not ignore the changing surroundings, the shuddering fury of the surrounding walls. It gazed about for a moment, more curious than afraid, before its eyes fell on Calantha dragging herself towards him, interposing her body between himself and Verdant. As she spoke, the Beast's eyes narrowed until they were but slits of flame, and for the first time its mirth began to fade. But there was no fear in its stance, not yet. No, the Beast was becoming annoyed, and perhaps to its folly it stepped towards Calantha.

"I had hoped to free your mind without interruption, but it seems you cannot appreciate the gift I bring."

With a wave of its hand, the Beast sent tendrils of stone snaking from the surrounding walls to wrap themselves around Verdant and Calantha, binding the hero in place and lifting the wounded goddess up by her wrists.

"I think you need a reminder of what you truly are, my pet, and of what you are capable of."

The Beast reached out and placed the fingers of its right hand gently on Calantha's face, almost tenderly caressing her. But then the hand stiffened, and an ethereal keening spread from the five points of contact. Visions began to flash through Calantha's head, visions of Rafa's destructive madness, visions of Shale rent asunder, visions of Rognir's heart broken. Every pain, every offense Calantha had ever committed was reflected back on her in a vast wave of agony, uncaring of her intent or intervening circumstances. Her body spasmed in the wild swarm of vengeful spirits, even as the Beast's fiery gaze obscured her vision.

"This is what you are, Calantha! You bring madness and pain to all you touch! Embrace the fear! Embrace the insanity! Embrace my freedom!"

And then the Beast felt another divine presence in the room, a presence far more formidable than the young man it had bound. Turning away from Calantha while maintaining the connection, it's predatory gaze turned towards Aldric.

"It seems the visitors to this house will never end! But I have not hurt your sister, sir. I have set her free."

The Beast smiled then, a smile of such malice and darkness that Aldric was reminded of nothing more than Heradi at the height of his sadism. But this gaze was different, more calculating in a way, and it seemed that as the Beast looked at him it stripped away the whole of his history.

White Blade

2010-11-11, 10:23 PM

Aldric's eyes take in a fallen warrior, battered against the wall. He lays there, his clothes ripped and torn, his shield still shining like it was reflecting the sun, his sword of kidnapped daylight lying by his side. He looked as if, before some brutal beating, he had been a story-book's knight or hero. He resembles Aldric's father closely, save for the eyes of calm blue and his youth. He lurches as the scythe appears and, in a strange maneuver, he reacts swiftly by shoving hisshield behind his back, leaving himself between it and the scyhe. He does not seem to stir beyond his eyelids fluttering open and shut, like he is trying to gain consciousness and not really succeeding. This is certainly no. The one who attacked Calantha.

hi-mi-tsu

2010-11-11, 10:27 PM

"Aldric!"

The cry is one of primal pain, of agony, the desperate fear of a child. And rage. So much rage, so much desire for vengeance...but not where the Beast wished it to be. Not on everyone else, those who had hurt her, no...no. Her vision was filled with fire and madness and blood, and she wanted to hurt him, this creature that touched her face like he had a right to, that bound her with stone--Hah, as though it could hold her!--as though he were stronger than she, that arrogantly assumed a pride of place in her home!

The goddess turned her head, sharply, and bit the Beast in the palm; in the same instant, the cuffs around her wrist explode into shrapnel, focusing in on the creature that was causing her anguish.

"Kill him!"

Then, a pause.

"No." Her eyes gleam in the darkness, as she touches her throat.

"Just subdue him. I want to kill him."

Nefarion Xid

2010-11-11, 10:59 PM

Aldric’s fangs slithered out from his bloody lips, twisting into a delighted, mad smile. Calantha wasn’t a helpless doll any more. Momentary pride turned to annoyance when the weight returned to Despair and he felt it dig into his shoulder. He repeated the words in his head. This thing hurt his beloved sister, more dear to him than his opulent opera house and all the pleasures of mortal life and the peace he had finally achieved by forgetting his old self. His eyes fluttered shut and he exhaled slowly, his breath hanging unnaturally long in the chill.

“Alissandre is singing tonight…”
The words had no meaning to anyone but him, but he had to spit them out.

“I have seen every one of her performances since she was fifteen. She’s a prodigy.”
Emerald eyes snapped open, tears clinging to his lashes.

“I was happy! I had forgotten what it was like to be this! I’d forgotten this life, this power… I could ignore it all until now. You ruined it. She was supposed to be safe here…”

Despair yielded gently to his fingertips and lifted into the air. Aldric’s eyes finally locked on the Beast, daring him to ignore the embodiment of shadow before him. If the Beast looked away from him for a second, he shouldn’t live to repeat that mistake.

hi-mi-tsu

2010-11-12, 12:52 AM

In the room, the walls shudder as if struck, and the color flickers, a wild surge of pastels and darkness; the shards of shrapnel fall to the ground and melt into nothing, and the goddess makes a small sound. A very small sound, hardly noticeable...

"Happy?" The word is a whisper, and suddenly the Mad Goddess's hands clench at her sides.

"You were happy? Forgetting about your life, about me?"

The walls throb again, lopsided, broken, and red blood begins to slid down them, matching the slow tears running down Calantha's cheeks. Then it changes, to a twisted representation of a stage, with twisted mortal puppets belting ever-so-slightly off-key songs of nonsense. It was just off enough to make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up...

"I looked for you!" A cry of anguish, of abandonment; the goddess's arms wind around herself, as if holding herself together. And indeed it seems she is; pieces of her keep wavering, trying to fly away.

"I stole the stars for you, so that you could kill the Behemoth, so that you could have your victory, so that you could live! And instead you choose this? Little singing girls on a little singing stage, you choose to not even tell me where you are? Not even your son! You abandoned me!"

She flinches, then, a little; her fingers close convulsively around the cross around her neck.

"You abandoned me. Like everyone." Her eyes grow bleak, but there is a deep and terrible anguish lurking beneath them...

"Why did you even come? Why do you care, to come, to see me when I hurt?!? You were happy with your mortals, your puppet show!"

Behind her, the singers burst into flames, and their songs become high-pitched whines of anguish.

"Why come now? Why not just watch your precious singer and leave me to die?!?"

TheDarkDM

2010-11-12, 01:14 AM

The Beast released Calantha as her teeth sunk into its palm, hissing slightly at the unexpected resistance. Stepping back, the Beast's grip tightened on the Sword of Rognir, its eyes flicking between the sibling gods. But then Aldric's stinging words struck Calantha, and the Beast's smile returned. Circling around behind Calantha, the Beast began to whisper in a voice that only she could hear, magnified by the ever growing link between them.

"You see, Calantha? All the fragments your old life will eventually betray you. Even those that profess to love you are hobbled by their adherence to a pathetic moral code that is theirs and theirs alone. Your brother may love you, in his superficial overprotective way, but he cannot understand you. And without understanding there can be no true relationship."

Nefarion Xid

2010-11-12, 02:24 AM

"You're the only thing that ever mattered, Callie!" He roared back, pointing with one gloved finger while simultaneously slamming the tip of Despair into the stage. The fires around them danced violently as if caught in a sudden wind, suffocated by the fell power of the scythe, yet sustained by Calantha's passion.

The words caught on the tips of his teeth, threatening to spill out before he choked them back. He wanted to scream at her, tell her that it was all her fault. He'd damned himself to save her. She was a burden and a liability. He couldn't be around her without pain, resentment and sadness for the person she once was and would never be again. And it was her inability to protect herself now that tore him away from his new life. There would be no going back. His cloak was cast off and his divine fire bare for all to see. His path was one of constant strife and it would only end with his grisly death.

Instead, tears rolled freely down his cheeks. Fists and teeth clenched. The built up grief and responsibility of a century of running from the world came washing over him. Silently, he begged his sister for forgiveness until he was at last crushed by his ancient guilt.

"I'm sorry I didn't protect you! I just want my sister back..."

hi-mi-tsu

2010-11-12, 03:47 PM

"Your brother may love you, in his superficial overprotective way, but he cannot understand you. And without understanding there can be no true relationship."

"I'm sorry I didn't protect you! I just want my sister back..."

The goddess wavers, flickering as though in a high wind; on the stage, the fires go out, and the lights, until they were shrouded in a deep blue-velvet shade. Hardly enough to see by...

"It wasn't your fault, Aldric, I don't blame you--"

"Lies! He should have protected us!"

"No, no, he saved me, he came for me..."

"Too late! The gestures were always too late and you know it!"

The sight is an odd one to behold; the goddess appears to be arguing with herself, violet eye streaming tears, red one blazing in fury. The voices are different, as well; one sounds like the sister Aldric knew, before everything had happened--tainted, still, but not nearly as much--and the other is full of such madness and hatred as to be almost overwhelming...

"He's been good to me, always!"

"He was happy without us! Look at us!"

A mirror appears, in the center of the stage, and it seems as though Calantha is forced to turn and face it; whatever she sees, she doesn't like, as she cries out and turns her face away.

"No, no! I'm good! I'm good I'm good!

"Never been, not since those days in the dungeon, we're trying to destroy the world--"

"NO!"

The lights black out, and for a moment there is a deathly silence; then there is a cry, and a mad, victorious laugh. When they come back up again, the mirror lies in shattered pieces on the ground; Calantha stares at herself, at a twisted version of herself, and stumbles backwards in horror.

(3 Major Acts: Create Demigod(dess) Ancalath, the literal embodiment of Calantha's hate and fury and thirst for vengeance. Essentially, the "evil twin".)Don't worry, she won't be around long.

"A-Aldric...?" For the first time in several hundred years, Calantha's voice was free of warring, conflicting tones; it was just herself, and the young woman took a hesitant step towards her brother, then another, then ran to the god of Fear and clung to him, almost desperately.

"I...I'm so glad you're back...I thought...I thought you were dead, I mean I know you're not supposed to be able to die but I thought...I missed you...!"

"Ugh." Ancalath makes a disgusted sort of sound, and turns away from the mushy scene; she glances over the Beast, and a wicked smile plays about her lips.

"Well? You said you wanted to 'free' me. Here I am. What next?"

TheDarkDM

2010-11-12, 04:44 PM

The Beast returned the smile of the newborn divine, seeing in her the same feelings that drove it. Stepping forward, it pulled her close in a disturbing double to Aldric and Calantha's desperate embrace, and whispered down to the being it had helped sire.

"Now we do whatever you desire, my pet! You have spent far too long shackled by the pathetic childishness of that girl. Now is our time, the time of wolves! Though, I would advise against destroying the world - the arrival of Those Who Wait Beyond would put such a damper on our fun. We can go now if you wish, though it seems a shame to allow your captor this touching reunion."

The Beast hefted the Sword of Rognir, looking down towards Ancalath, leaving the decision to her. As the two dark gods conversed though, Calantha felt the last of the Beast's corruption dissipate from her system, replaced by the voice she'd heard before.

"Calantha, listen to me. The Beast cannot be stopped through violence - no matter how much damage it endures, the thirst for vengeance with sustain it, and it will only become stronger. You must restrain it and allow me to pass from you back into my body. If the Beast is sufficiently weakened, I should be able to regain control."

Nefarion Xid

2010-11-12, 05:39 PM

"Callie..."

Aldric held her head to his chest. This was the sister he remembered; this was the one he lost two centuries ago. But, there would be time for sentiments later. He was in the presence of something that didn't feel fear, and that was one thing that scared him.

He placed Calantha behind him, letting her cling to the shredded remains of his fine coat. His eyes darted to Verdant, then back to the Beast and the spiteful doppelganger with him. Shadows slithered along the snath of Despair and a baleful energy pulsed through the air like a heartbeat. The weapon was growing impatient and was pulling on its master's hand and, imploring him to put it to good use. Aldric's hand was level and still. His eyes fell on the sword in the Beast's hands, but he did not question why it was there. He knew he could summon Despair and cut the monster down in one lunge. He knew... yet a gnawing instinct stayed his hand.

hi-mi-tsu

2010-11-12, 09:05 PM

"Don't kill him!" Delicate hands knot in the back of Aldric's jacket, and a delicate, fragile voice whispers frantically in his ear. "Don't! We just have to...to..." She pauses, for a moment, then laughs weakly.

"I would say 'this sounds crazy', but from me that's already a given...that's not Faolan. That's...that's a thing, in Faolan's body, and somehow--I don't know how--Faolan is inside me. We have to...to restrain the Beast and get Faolan back into his own body, he doesn't deserve to die...he's a good man, Aldric, I swear he is, he healed me, he dealt with me, it's okay..."

Her fingers pluck nervously at her brother's jacket as Ancalath turns toward them, twisted grin on her face, hand at ease on the Beast's arm.

"Hmn, perhaps you're right. Perhaps I should rid myself of her and him both, needless weights bearing me down..."

Again, the whisper in Aldric's ear. "If they fight us, Aldric, brother, you must focus on the Beast, you must restrain him and weaken him...she is me, and I am her, we will fight..."

"What was that...? Whispering secrets? I don't like secrets!" Ancalath flies at the pair, and Calantha steps away; soon, the two halves are engaged in a fight that defies reason and would drive one mad to look for too long.

TheDarkDM

2010-11-12, 09:33 PM

We need fight music! (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yfmwZr4quKk)

As Ancalath flew at Calantha, the Beast circled around Aldric, transferring the Sword to its main hand and twirling it casually at his side. Testing the air, it smiled in its malicious way and spared a glance towards the dueling goddesses of madness.

"You smell of fear, my friend, but not just your own. You must be the renowned God of Fear, so long absent from divine matters. Well, it seems the time has come for you to leave Divine affairs permanently."

Then the Beast was flying through the air, the blade in its hand arcing towards Aldric with incredible speed.

Nefarion Xid

2010-11-12, 10:02 PM

"Gna!"

Surprised by the sudden turn of events, but not caught unawares, Aldric called Despair to him in a flash and the back of its blade served as a shield as he darted backward, slipping through shadows and eluding the Beast with truly preternatural speed. He had, after all, cut his teeth on battles with Heradi and through perseverance alone he had a claim to celerity as well. Wherever the Beast went, Aldric danced out of reach or stood waiting with his impenetrable blade. Even a masterful strike resulted in him gliding across the wooden floor like it was ice and would-be deathblows ripped through flesh turned shadow.

Left. Right. Left. Then dancing shoulder to shoulder, Aldric slipped away with a lit cigarette hanging from his lips. He... how the hell did he light it!?

"... who is this guy?"

hi-mi-tsu

2010-11-12, 10:11 PM

"He's...a...god..." The words were worked out in between dodging blows; Calantha mired Ancalath in the floor, and her evil twin slipped down into the ground, to come up behind her. A whirlwind of fire exploded into butterflies that turned to stone that turned to raindrops.

"He's a good...good man...! Just...stop him...!"

Those were the only words she had time for; Ancalath came at her again, with a wordless scream, and the battle was joined once more.

TheDarkDM

2010-11-12, 10:18 PM

Aldric's proficiency was truly terrifying. His speed, his endurance, and his inimitable confidence would have left any sane foe quailing, begging for mercy. But for the Beast, Aldric was something much different - a welcome challenge. With every evaded blow, every counterattack, the Beast's manic grin grew, its eyes blazed a little brighter, and elation overwhelmed annoyance. The nondescript sword danced in the Beast's hands as it flurried over and under Aldric's guard, always blocked, but always just a bit closer to striking true. But still, Aldric's speed made any true strike an impossibility. Roaring laughter, the Beast pushed against the shaft of Despair, separating them for a moment.

"Oh well done Aldric. You are truly the most fun I've had in years. And you aren't even tiring yet...very good. Let's say we get serious though, shall we?"

Reaching out, the Beast slid the palm of its hand along the blade of the Sword, drenching it in crimson-black blood. As the vitae dripped from the ancient blade, the Beast pointed towards Aldric.

"I name you kinslayer, a false son and absentee god. The cries of your siblings echo through the aether. The malice of un-ageing speed hounds your steps. And beneath it all, the rage of the very earth seeks to rend you asunder. You are accursed, and vengeance shall be done."

As the Beast finished, the blood along the Sword burst into flame. Though dim at first, when the Beast pointed the tip back at Aldric they grew to a raging inferno, first crimson, then indigo, and finally the deep black of the untouched cavern of the earth. With another roar, the Beast was on him again, but this time as they fought great spurs of rock exploded from the floor beneath Aldric, seeking to impale and maim and incapacitate. Even worse, with every strike the flames of the blade licked out to hound Aldric's corporeal form, and wherever they touched they burned with all the pain of aeons spent in vengeful dreams.

1 Major Act to gain the Fires of Vengeance, magical flames that appear around any weapon in Faolan's hands and burn with a power directly proportional to the pain inflicted by Faolan's opponent throughout the course of its life.

Nefarion Xid

2010-11-12, 10:54 PM

Aldric's bisected cigarette went flying with an annoyed spit, burning at both ends. Blood mixed with shadow as he hurtled backwards across the stage. His tattered coat remained behind, suspended in mid air and cleanly sliced in two by a blow that was meant to end him. A cloud of blood sprayed from the half cauterized wound in Aldric's arm as he appeared off stage left. The ropes anchored nearby split with an invisible swipe from his blade.

Aldric stared back at the beast from between the maelstrom of flame, blood and shadow. An embittered, bemused snarl crossed his lips, reminding the Beast that Aldric had lived with Calantha's madness for centuries... that is, he had home field advantage in her delirious sanctuary.

A half dozen sandbags of improbable size and one grandiose chandelier plummeted toward the Beast while living shadow erupted from the broken stage to grapple with his limbs.

The invisible (or imagined) audience erupts in applause and general oohs and aahs at the hero's bravado.

White Blade

2010-11-12, 11:05 PM

Verdant's eyes flicker open as the beast rants and raves, and he growls out a, "Don't you ever shut up?" at the beast before he seems to fade somewhat, his hands are moving, however, and his shield is readying itself for battle. He is recovering at a remarkable pace, though less than he might have wished.

TheDarkDM

2010-11-12, 11:12 PM

The Beast returned Aldric's scowl with an almost pleasant smile, until a tendril of shadow wrapped around its arm. Looking down in consternation, it tore away only to be grappled by a dozen more. Then the chandelier fell, and try as it might the Beast could not tear itself from its position fast enough. Giving a guttural bellow, the Beast seemed to collapse beneath the wining shadows, before its blade thrust through the mass, slicing around to meet the falling crystal daggers. Most burst into shards, though a few managed to pierce flesh. In its momentary vale of tranquility, the Beast saw the tide of shadows reaching out again in a vast wave. For a moment it stood transfixed, before striking through the stage into the ground below. For a moment nothing seemed to happen, before massive boulders began to explode from the ground, shooting up into the now-vaulted ceiling. Leaping from its place, the Beast rocketed from one slab of rock to another, always a few seconds ahead of Aldric's twining shadows. All too soon, he was above the God of Fear, swooping down with a murderously powerful swing.

The impact of the Sword on Despair was enough to shatter what remained of the stage, the Beast and Aldric seemingly frozen in time as splinters of wood and stone and shadow flowed from the point of impact. As the blade of its sword screeched down the haft of Despair and the Flames of Vengeance reached desperately for Aldric, the Beast lashed out with a kick, separating the two gods at the center of a new crater.

"A fine performance, shadow god, but I will not be subdued so easily."

Nefarion Xid

2010-11-12, 11:43 PM

From the orchestra pit the chorus toned , "Full many a wonder is told us in stories old,
of heroes worthy of praise, of hardships dire,
of joy and feasting, of weeping and of wailing;
of the fighting of bold warriors, now ye may hear wonders told."

Aldric's comet-like trajectory slowed to a controlled, dramatic flail and the flames became silk ribbons in brilliant golds and reds. With a flourish of his scythe the ribbons fell dead to the floor and he slid to a halt on the broken floorboards. Aldric paused long enough for a full aside.

"Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue,
We will make amends ere long;
Else Aldric a liar call..."

The audience erupted in sycophantic laughter.

"If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended,
For beasts that meet me run away for fear..."

He offered a brief smirk and bow before launching himself again to assault the Beast, carrying the uproarious support of the phantom audience and the tangible will of Calantha's realm behind him.

hi-mi-tsu

2010-11-13, 12:11 AM

As Aldric launches himself into the air, a most unsettling thing happens; the stage continues to crumble beneath the feet of the Beast, reforming on the side of the stage where Aldric was. As well, the puppet-audience, still laughing with tinny, canned voices, all stood up from their chairs; the moment they did, the world around them changed, and the stage became a meadow, and the puppet audience became fierce warriors armed with ropes and clubs. They were clumsy, as puppets often were, but there seemed to be a never-ending mass of them, streaming towards the Beast in an effort to subdue him.

Off to the side, Calantha smiled; Ancalath struggled in impotent fury, wound in vines of steel that would not break no matter what she did. After all, she was merely a shadow of the true power, here...

TheDarkDM

2010-11-13, 01:04 AM

Seeing the transforming battlefield and the bound form of Ancalath, the Beast stopped for a moment to take stock. Before it could speak though, Aldric was upon it, spearheading the wave of dolls. Blocking the initial strike, the Beast scanned the room desperately for something to even the odds, and laid eyes on Rognir's Spear, abandoned at the start of its fight with Verdant. Unleashing a swift flurry to separate himself from Aldric, the Beast dove for the Spear, taking it up into its left hand in a twirling flourish. As the spearhead burst into ethereal flames, the Beast leapt into the tide of puppets, a whirling dervish of death. Then Aldric appeared above him, and now it was the Beast staring a deadly blade in the face, before the other god touched the ground.

Then began a dance to quick for any outsider to follow, a series of strikes and parry's that pitted the Beast's strength against Aldric's speed. Using the Spear, the Beast vaulted over Aldric's guard, stabbed at his unprotected flanks, and disemboweled any puppets that came near. Sprays of black blood flew as the Beast moved, betraying the number of cuts it had endured, only seeming to drive it faster. But still, the Beast could not overcome his speed, though the flames of its rage scorched his limbs. And then, as always happens, there came a lull, a parting of the two combatants, and the Beast reacted swiftly. Twirling about, it flung the Spear towards Calantha and Ancalath. The divine weapon left a trail of flames behind it as it hurled through the air, so fast even Aldric had difficulty tracking it. catching the vines binding Ancalath, the Spear cut though an entire bundle before burying itself in a surprised Calantha's shoulder, pinning her to a wall.

Kasanip

2010-11-13, 03:17 AM

Nari

Nari was upset by the strange interruption to her evening, and by the ominous message of the strange raven god. But she did not change her expression because of those who had gathered for the festival.

She was a leader now, and even though she was young, she knew that there could not be a panic or worry.

At the table who had joined her were Tengu Oneclaw, and Ya-un-Kurumi, who were honored as much as she was for their legends. Both were quiet and contemplative. Both were warriors who had fought in battles of legends Nari had only learned of when she was a child. Both had faced enemies in front of them that Nari had not. Also was Myoan who had known a history even longer, though her own features were troubled. But Ya-un-kurumi's hand was on hers, and so she was also relieved.

The rest, who were before her as guests and citizens talked amongst themselves.
Nari stood up and raised her fan to gain their attention. And immediately the confusion was stopped as the people harkened to her.

"There is no need of worry." She said calmly. More calmly and less confused than she felt. "This land is a peaceful place once now, and of these omens I will concern myself, so be free of this and tonight celebrate."

People cheered and returned to the festival with joy as Nari turned to leave.
"Please join me later." She said to Oneclaw, Ya-un-kurumi, and Myoan.

But for the moment Nari was alone again. She wondered if now was not a good time to use the incense that she treasured- the gift that Celestan had given to her at the end of their journey together. She desired some council or explanation, but as she reached for it, Celestan's voice came to her.

Where he was she did not know. What the urgency was she also did not know. But she felt the familiar warmth and knew it was Celestan.

The center of the world? The world tree? She closed her eyes and concentrated. These were things she had heard of somewhere. Like an echo. Or like a sweet flower oder.
But as she concentrated she felt something else like pain. A little bit of danger and strife. But that wasn't at the 'center' of the world. It was somewhere else.

White Blade

2010-11-13, 08:32 AM

Verdant stumbles to his feet, muttering, "That's quite enough." As he sways beneath the sunny sky. His sword and shield are ready in his hand and he staggers momentarily before he gets his full bearing. He looks at the little demigoddess now unbound by the ancient spear before recognizing the spear and growling.

"Is there anything you didn't steal from Grandfather?" he asks venomously, "How did something like you become a god, when all they were was shade and memory to the work of another?" he asks angrily, watching the twisted mirror of Calantha closely as he insults the Beast. His sword is sharp and ready, "Do you need this shade for something, Calantha? Or may I kill it?"

hi-mi-tsu

2010-11-13, 06:02 PM

Where the Beast's spear had so cunningly penetrated hung a doll, surprised look on its cloth face; it crumbled into nothingness after a few moments, and Calantha's voice echoed in the air.

"This is quite enough."

A silken rope of purple descended from the ceiling, looping cunningly around the Beast's neck and hoisting him upwards; the voice continued, impervious to the creature's struggles.

"It's not your body, you know. You really should get out of it, and I'm tired of the damage to my home. You're really a terrible house-guest, coming here to murder my friend and destroy my bedroom..."

Ancalath fled into the murky shadows, away from Verdant and the scene; she, of course, knew the house better than anyone save Calantha, as it was a part of herself. A door opened and closed, then vanished, and Calantha appeared, tightening the rope a little.

"I really didn't want to have to do this, you know. I promise I won't kill you. But see, the proper owner of this body is in my brain, and I would really very much like to get him out. It's crowded enough up there as it is, without someone else coming to clutter up the mix."

TheDarkDM

2010-11-15, 09:59 PM

The Beast gagged as Calantha's noose closed around its neck, jerking fruitlessly against the seemingly unbreakable rope. Snarling at Calantha, it brought the Sword of Rognir up to cut through the noose, only to have the flaming sword stopped short by Despair's blade. Try as it might, the Beast could not break free from the hold of the sibling gods, not in the Sanctum of the Goddess of Madness. Realizing that its lone ally had fled and its resistance was largely useless, the Beast began to laugh, its madness shining through.

"You think I've stolen this body, you little fool? No, I've always been here, held in check by the one you know as Faolan. He and I are one, children of rape and violence and murder, the inheritors of the Red Wolf, and try as he might he cannot rid himself of me. All it will take is another slip, and I'll be free again. And I won't be in your little fun-house the next time."

The Beast spit a dollop of blood in Calantha's direction, giving her a crooked, disturbed grin before it continued.

"So, the question is, can you trust him? Is Faolan truly worthy of a second chance, even after all this? Can you guarantee that you won't slip and drive him mad again?"

hi-mi-tsu

2010-11-15, 11:29 PM

"He saved my life." The words are simple, and Calantha meets the Beast's gaze head-on. "He and his daughter. And he did not kill me, when he had the chance to, when I was defenseless. He could have, you know. He could have killed me when I spoke of the stars and of tearing them down, he could have ended me right there. Instead, he chose to make me go away."

She pauses, and a faint flicker of sadness crosses her face, echoing itself in a wistful smile. "But no, I cannot promise not to slip. I feel...me, right now, mostly, aside from his voice in my head...but there is no guarantee I can stay Me, or for how long I will be Me, all together, in one piece."

Her eyes flicker to Aldric, and the smile grows sadder still. "...I'm sorry, Aldric...for being a...a burden, a challenge. For taking you away from where you were...happy...and making you come back to me."

Then they go unfocused, and she looks inside herself. "Well? Is this enough for you to go back to your own body?"

TheDarkDM

2010-11-15, 11:42 PM

Within Calantha's mind, she can almost hear the sigh made by Faolan's disembodied consciousness.

"Yes, you must simply make contact with him and I can regain control. Thank you, Calantha. I had hoped that no one would ever see that part of me, but in the end I am glad you were here."

Nefarion Xid

2010-11-16, 12:44 AM

Aldric lights another cigarette from the silver case he'd pull from the nether, seemingly oblivious to the deep cuts on his arms and side. Bad guy disarmed and incapacitated, freaky doppelganger missing in action... quite enough excitement for one day. Cast aside, Despair vanished in a smokey burst of shadow before it had a chance to clatter to the ground. The Beast's sword piqued his interest, but he adhered to a strict policy of look-don't-touch when it came to the paraphernalia of crazy and/or evil folk.

Calantha got a fleeting grin (or a smirk) before he went back to enjoying his smoke and feigning disinterest in what the Beast had to say.

TheDarkDM

2010-11-16, 02:54 PM

As Calantha's fingers brushed over the chest of the now-still Beast, she felt a tugging at the edge of her thoughts, a subtle pull that drained the film of Faolan's consciousness from her own. As she felt the last of the foreign presence leave, the was forced to jump back as the Beast began violently convulsing, uttering wordless profanities at her and Aldric. As the three divinities watched, the Beast's claws withdrew into its hands, it fangs shrank into normal teeth, and the red hue that had overcome its skin returned to normal. As the Beast's struggling grew ever weaker, the fires in its eyes faded, until they were but embers lurking in the red wolf's eyes that they knew. With a last desperate howl, the Beast's entire body went rigid, before slumping in the noose. As the bound figure raised its head, the eyes were clear and sharp, the manner controlled, and it was clear that Faolan had regained control. Coughing in the noose, he gave Calantha and Aldric a weak smile.

"Thank you both. I don't want to imagine what I could have done if you hadn't been here to stop me. I am so sorry for the injustices I've visited upon you."

Pulling himself free of the noose, Faolan knelt to retrieve the Sword of Rognir, re-sheathing the ancient blade. He then glanced over his shoulder at the still-healing Verdant, his brows furrowed in concern.

"Are you alright, cousin?"

White Blade

2010-11-16, 03:52 PM

Verdant looked at his elder cousin with something like confusion on his face, as his eyes scrunched together and he peered at him. Eventually, he takes the question to be genuine and stares at Faolan for a few moments before he says, "I shall never be okay so long as you bear that blade." Verdant replies tiredly, almost disinterested in his own wounds, "It is a serious threat to creation itself, not this world but all worlds that have been and will ever be. The Herald will not speak of it in anything but his private whispers, such is the fear that has grasped his heart toward it.

Grandfather had hid it somewhere, somewhere safe, Blessed Sovvenia had seen it beneath the World Tree, but found her way bound by an instrument of divine law, a dragon. Turning back, she resolved to earn it by right before taking it. She never received the chance. But Shen Shi Zhu earned it, somehow. And when I went with our Uncle Shen Shi Zhu to retrieve it, the island which had once been pure and well was dead as a rotted out corpse and the sword was gone. And now the beast has turned it on our family, and will turn it so again, unless you yield it."

TheDarkDM

2010-11-16, 05:11 PM

Faolan raised an eyebrow at Verdant's description of the Squire's island. It had been intact the last he'd seen it, and he could scarce imagine why a blight would sweep the isolated paradise without the incentive of the Sword to draw it. However, as the demand in Verdant's voice became clear, Faolan's face grew hard.

"Despite what you may think, I had nothing to do with the decay of the hidden isle. If you seek blame, turn it towards our enemies abroad, or to Heradi, whom I found there and bound deep within the earth. But I earned the right to wield the Sword of Rognir through trial by combat and the approval of its keeper. The guardian of the isle serves me now, and whatever you may think of my stability I fail to see how entrusting the blade to you or another of the gods will be any safer. You have carved a path of blood and bodies through Iuvenis, to no real end, and the screams of your fallen foes echo in my ears even now. What have you truly done to earn the Sword, child of Garadiel, but claim a title that is not your to take? No, I will not surrender the Sword."

Nefarion Xid

2010-11-16, 05:38 PM

Aldric snorts at the mention of Garadiel's name, or more at the notion of him doing anything humanizing like procreating. A torn strip from his shirt serves as a makeshift ribbon for his hair as he makes some effort to look presentable, now able to rest after a hellish flight on the back of the nightmare and a taxing battle.

"It's just an heirloom," he mumbles. "I don't see what the fuss is. Get yourself a real weapon, kid. Your old man had a nice blade... once. Shame he didn't know how to use it."

White Blade

2010-11-17, 12:17 AM

Verdant raises an eyebrow at the idea of himself as Garadiel's son, "I'm no child of the Herald's. I've never even heard him say his own name, let alone had him for a father."

Verdant looks at Aldric, and Aldric sees something he has not seen in many years, not fear, not even love, but the look of a child who is looking at his hero, like he thinks Aldric could swoop in and change everything like it was nothing, before continuing, "Just a few moments ago, the bearer of that blade who stands before you now turned against your sister. When I came upon them, though I have never met Calantha, I stepped between them, and fought for her and would have, even if it had cost me my life. The blade is everything I have said, Uncle Aldric. Rognir selected you for the protector of his children, his greatest work, his legacy when this world is gone. There is only one now standing in this room who has turned against his kindred. He thinks that he can walk out of the room with the strongest blade in the world, when he can clearly be about as trusted not to turn against us as a drunk can be trusted not to turn to the bottle. It is not that I have anything against him, it is that his bearing that blade is the height of foolishness. Elect any you wish, Uncle, to bear it. I will honor your choice. But you cannot really believe that he is a good choice. And as to his lies, there was only one rightful way past the dragon, and that was to bear Rognir's brand. Which this one does not have."

Kasanip

2010-11-24, 08:25 AM

Nari

The goddess of beauty stood alone in her room, looking out at Toukoku below the mountain. She seemed concerned, and tapped her fan on her arm a little. She paced.

What should she do? Surely it had been Lord Celestan's voice that had called to her and asked her to come. But for her to go to a place she did not know how to go... She opened the fan and looked at it. The colors and stories on it had started to spread, from the right to the left. Now as she looked at it, the colors seemed to finish. She had carried this fan since Celestan had given her a choice. And she had taken a wood and pearl bow, but it had become the fan.

Was it a suitable weapon for her? Nari was not sure. Sometimes she still felt like she was a traveler... But that was not right now. The Nari who wore this dress and held this fan was not the same. This was her. A goddess of beauty and nobility, and she only had started to accept it today. And it had been supported.
The words of the raven-gon tonight told her this. And Celestan's voice had called to her.

Behind her, the door opened, and there Tengu OneClaw and Ya-un-Kurumi stood. Myoan was next to him.
Nari looked at the fan again, and then closed it. Nari turned to them with a soft smile.

"My friends, thank you for supporting me. This is a difficult time I am afraid. Things are starting to move faster. Toukoku may have some part to play as well... But this land we have worked hard to build is not ready to face more challenges. I fear that I am not ready as well... "

She shook her head.

"But I must become ready. So I will travel again. Lord Celestan called to me earlier...and the unexpected guest gave this same signal." She looked at Ya-un-Kurumi and Tengu OneClaw.

"I ask that both of you, being the peerless warriors of this place, and who have seen more battle than perhaps any but the Gods, to protect this place. A defense is needed I fear. We must not let tragedy to fall on this valley again."

Ya-un-Kurumi and Tengu OneClaw looked at each other. Then, with a rueful smile, Ya-un-Kurumi nodded.

"It is strange, lady Nari. Of course we will do what you ask. But standing here in your beauty giving us such orders, there is something nostalgic and familiar. Your words seem to give me courage, like Lady Raia's before. If I close my eyes, I think I may be carried away by your words."

Tengu OneClaw stirred. "It is true. The words you spoke remind me of her as well. Yet here she stands with a fan and the smell of perfume and incense! Wonders of this world are many in my long life, but the most are yet hidden in your grace, I think!
The guard will be trained, Lady Nari. Tengu iron and Shiuk bow will see glory again."

"I am not the Lady Raia, though we are... similar." Nari said mildly. "But we must be true to ourselves, so I cannot deny everything you say. Myoan, I ask to you also that the Emiyu aid and help this valley to prosper. For the time that I am gone, I ask that you support these two, but also to mediate. The Emiyu have great wisdom and patience, so please keep everything balanced."

Myoan bowed gracefully. "I will do it Lady Nari." Nari smiled and turned to the window.

"I have to go traveling again. But maybe it's time for this journey. It will be a little nostalgic, I hope." She said.

Nari at the Center

So at last it was that Nari arrived as if on a cloud of incense, stepping lightly off of the sea. Had she seen the dragon king at his palace once again? Maybe such a story is not for this time.

Seeing the tree for the first time, Nari felt it's great power and life. It was beautiful, old, and a little sad. She wanted to touch it and comfort it, but to go close...That was something she was uncertain about. For now at least, she looked for the one who called.

Acts

Major Act: Gain Ability: Mass Euphoria
Major Act: Gain Artifact: Nari's Fan- Natori no Sensu
The folding fan of a General, the folding fan of a Lady. The folding fan that was a bow, and changed, just as a Warrior became a Princess, and as War becomes Peace. On it is drawn a story in brilliant colors, and though Nari doesn't know this story yet- it is the story of herself, and the story of the bow that became a fan. Though this fan is not a weapon, with it's power of Fortune it may guide to Truth. So it may guide a lost traveler, an arrow's path, or one who is confused.

Minor Act: Increase Population of Toukoku
Minor Act: Inspire Population of this island

1 Major Act, 1 Minor Act, 1 Ceremony remaining

Raz_Fox

2010-12-03, 04:54 PM

The Doom That Came To Givreterre

Boom. Boom.

Boom. Boom.

Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom.

Caer Faol stands as a citadel of hope and civilization in the wild north, the land of Phromm's hunting in earlier days. The Gray Watch stand as its protectors, its guardians and its knights. So they have done since the days in which Faolan Half-Breed showed them the way of sanguine redress.

But there had been whispers and rumors among the Watch, of giants moving in the north, and of a whispered name: Sulior. And there had been plans made, and scholars consulted, and the Grey Watch had sent a band of men northwards to report on any suspicious giant activity.

Now, the "suspicious giant activity" can be heard, marching south with their war drums and their chants of vengeance against the humans, and borne aloft in their midst is the throne of Sulior, First Among Giants, and beside him sits a sorceress, a poisonous adviser, a former lover of the Guardian of the Tree.

Their standards are painted with the blood of the Orofolk, and the skulls of the hillfolk hang from their standard-poles. Their weapons are eclectic, some from the South and from the West, some rough-hewn from the Northern flint or oak, clubs and spears and massive single-edged blades. They bear catapults, and rams, and stolen secrets of fire.

And they will raze Caer Faol until there is nothing left but dust.

The Doom That Came To Iuvenis

A new standard is raised in the land, besides the standard of the beautiful maiden Nari. Its sign is the black Serpent, twisted around the world, and they say that the Serpent King seeks to unify the continent.

That would be a task indeed, would it not? But every day refugees straggle into the valley of Toukoku, telling stories of how the Serpent King seeks dominion over every kingdom, every barony, and his armies are ruthless and swift. Soon - very soon - Toukoku shall be a place of war again.

Unless, perhaps, the Beautiful Maiden of Toukoku can stop the endless cycle of violence...?

The Doom That Came To Negeb

They don't call themselves Dreamers anymore. They have fancy names, and artistic societies, and sometimes just groups of old friends that just happen to get together at the old teahouse every month to discuss various events.

They're much, much more dangerous this way.

You see, while you can persecute Dreamers, and even execute them for their dangerous ideas, these are just artists, and legitimate businessmen and merchants, and they never show their true colors.

Some road construction orders get adjusted, so that they go a mile out of the way of the straightest path. Some buildings have paint scrawled onto them, or ancient statues have the slightest, slightest adjustments made to them. And Erimere's various... "exotic substances"... keep getting smuggled in. A book is written, a selection of poems is published, a painting is drawn.

Inch by inch, they lay the bricks on the road to hell. And He will follow that road straight to the Tree when His day comes.

White Blade

2010-12-03, 05:46 PM

Although it had been some years since their inception, The World Guard still lay almost purely in Iuvenis. Its number, some three hundred fold, held the most skilled warriors mortal kind had. Transfigured by years, marked by the shields burned into their backs, the Guard still moved silently and swiftly to execute threats to the World Tree. But they had no reason to suspect the Serpent King, and some served within his army, selecting the bravest and strongest and inducting them into the Guard. The World Guard was growing, becoming more and more skilled, and their positions within their own armies almost always climbed.

The more pious of the World Guard attributed this to Verdant's favor, the more skeptical attributed it to increasing skill. Whatever the case, some moved amidst the refugees, developing positions of power, planning to carve new kingdoms when the Serpent King inevitably fell, some worked at the low levels of the Serpent King's army, hoping to influence this mighty king to favor the World Tree and not harm it, some moved into Toukoku and served the girl there that was attributed with divine beauty. A few rode ships north and south, making their residence in Negeb and Givreterre. All were eyes and ears for their master, and their prayers rose swiftly to him, reporting any situation they deemed a threat.

(3 ma increasing the size of Verdant's branded.)

TheDarkDM

2010-12-03, 06:49 PM

Calantha's Sanctum

Faolan's eyes narrowed at Verdant's accusations, though his stance remained easy. Looking towards Aldric and Calantha, he stood silently for a moment before responding.

"Believe what you want, child of Garadiel. Deny your heritage, even, if that is your wont. But there are forces moving in the North that require my attention. Aldric, Calantha, once again I apologize for what has transpired here. I hope we meet again soon under happier circumstances."

With that, Faolan spun on his heel and strode out of Calatha's Sanctum, taking the Sword of Rognir with him.

Caer Faol

Word of the giant army arrived like a tempest in the fortress-city, shocking the populace into silence. It had been centuries since the giants had dared menace the north, and for the Orofolk to have fallen to them was a dire sign indeed. Yet, the people of Caer Faol had hope, even as refugees from outlying villages and towns began flooding in. For the fortress was mighty, crafted by the very God of Earth himself. Their walls were high, their supplies numerous, and even with the refugees space was abundant. And, perhaps most important of all, the Grey Watch had never failed them.

Nevertheless, within the Citadel Marek and the other Lords of the Watch leapt into action. All able bodied men and women between the ages of eighteen and thirty-five not working in a vital industry were immediately conscripted into the newly created Army of the Wolf, and the manifold forges of the city belched smoke into the air night and day forging armor and weapons. Bands of Geomancers began strengthening the defended, infusing the walls with latticeworks of iron and adamant. The Deep Road to Hybil'Smita was closed off, with warnings and pleas for aid travelling to that great city on the fastest horse available. And as the city prepared for war, its people looked to the sky, wondering when their lord would return.

At this point, the Grey Watch should number around 5,000. With the population efforts of the Caer Faol, I imagine the Army of the Wolf is around 100,000 strong.

White Blade

2010-12-03, 10:43 PM

Verdant steps, blade drawn, between Faolan and the door, "Yield the blade or die. I cannot let you destroy creation, Cousin."

Kasanip

2010-12-04, 06:20 AM

Nari and Iuvenis

Nari was troubled by the prayers and the signs. Words traveled quickly, and now, as refugees came quickly and often into Toukoku, there were more stories now. The Sperent King was seeking to rule every kingdom. Nari remembered many times her own walking through those kingdoms of the south, and even as the Shiuk of the steppes to the north were safe from the danger and the strife, many were already suffering from the Serpent King.
Ya-un-Kurumi and Tengu OneClaw were often seen together with Myoan, who did not smile now. They talked often of threat and danger- and Nari had tasked them to prepare defense of Toukoku.
But Toukoku was not the same place as it had been when it was last destroyed. The soldiers there now were much fewer, and though they were the proud legacy of Raia, goddess of War, they were descendants of legends, and they served a young maiden who sat on the throne. A few of the valiant World Guard came, and Nari accepted them graciously.

Nari restlessly looked out the window at the valley as she fixed her hair. Though the smell of peach blossoms was clear. Wisteria had not yet grown this year. Maybe it too waited in tension. Or maybe it was the tension Nari felt that made the land feel so too? Nari walked to the gardens and took the peace for a while as she thought. Toukoku was always a garden like this. It was a sacred valley- the most sacred place in Iuvenis. Surely the Serpent King would one day come here.

She lit incense and candles to prepare the hall again.

But first she would go to him.
Nari left Toukoku that night silently. And as she came to the great halls of the Serpent King, she presented herself in her beauty and grace to him.

TheDarkDM

2010-12-04, 07:23 AM

Faolan stopped as Verdant stood in his way, and as the young godling made his threat he walked over to the stone wall where the Spear was still buried. Wrenching it out, Faolan placed its butt on the ground as he turned to face Verdant.

"I do not wish to fight you, Verdant, but neither do I recognize your right to demand the Sword. Move aside cousin, or I will make you move. I will not draw a weapon against you, but we both know I don't need to."

White Blade

2010-12-04, 08:49 AM

Verdant stands, his blade and the Shield certain in their placement, and grimaces, "It is not my right that is at issue, but my duty," Verdant replies, sounding resolute and certain of himself. His eyes narrows and his voice grows sharp says, "I must protect the World Tree, and the Sword is a threat."

TheDarkDM

2010-12-04, 06:11 PM

Faolan sighed at Verdant's conviction, and looked at his cousin sadly.

"I am sorry you feel that way, Verdant. But this world needs me, and I have spend too much time here."

Then the Spear of Rognir was flying towards Verdant, its butt impacting the Shield like an avalanche. As he recovered from the blow, Verdant looked up to see Faolan looming over him. Before he could react, his sword hand was held firm in Faolan's grasp, as was an edge of the Shield.

"I hope you will find it in yourself to forgive me one day."

Faolan spun around, dragging Verdant through the air. He released Verdant into the air, sending him hurtling into the walls of Calantha's Sanctum. It would not kill him, not nearly, but Faolan hoped it would incapacitate him enough for him to leave.

Kaiser Omnik

2010-12-06, 01:16 AM

Soundtrack:Humanity's Stand! (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=188eQrCxwZo&feature=related)
Triumph! (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hogB1_7373k)

Since Celestan's meeting with Nara, the Fire God was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps he had finally lost himself to the passions of a mortal life, incapable of making any sense out of his "destiny".

---

Or so it was thought. For a time. But then, numerous sightings of a man with a face covered in ash, hair ablaze, wearing a red and silver cloak were reported, all around the world, for about a month. There he stood, atop the windswept peak of the sacred mountain Aptokim; on the highest branch of the tallest tree of Teleok's rainforest; on the old and weary stones of Hywtha's pyramids; or among the snow-clad hills of Givreterre's tundra. His expression serious, pensive. Seemingly unaffected by the trials of the elements. There was something definitely tragic about him. Like he only held to a glimmer of hope now...

---

At long last, after a quick visit to a deserted mansion in the East, the Everyman's journey brought him to a fog covered upland in Zhang Guo. Zhang...everything there felt so extremely ancient: the weather beaten trees, the gentle streams, the rust colored earth, even the air itself was full of a scent that reminded the young man of the dusty tomes and scrolls of Xiang's acadamy. The Everyman crossed a partially destroyed bridge and came upon a shrine of the old religion, that of the spirits and Nature. Inside laid an altar, which obviously hadn't seen use since a very long time. He kneeled to inspect it, and removed cobweb from the sacred stone. And there he paid his respects; not to some forgotten idols, but rather to the memory of the First Men and Women who served in this place. Then he removed himself from the shrine and looked at it from afar.

"From one domination to another."
"From one domination to another."
"From one domination to another."

The Everyman spoke with the force of a thousand people. He searched in his bag and retrieved a small wooden chest. From the chest he took out a bowl made of clay, modestly decorated with esoteric motifs, sligthly dirty, with some residues inside, and a pestle. The First Vessel was its name, and according to the legend it was the tool by which Humanity's creation by Rognir All-Father was made possible.

"We did bad. We went to the forbidden house and took this for ourselves. From the home of the deceased Creator! ... No, we did good. We discovered the symbol of our oppression; the primal act of creation was both a gift and a curse. A gift of because it granted us life; a curse because it separated us from the means to our self-fulfillment. But we say: no more!"
"We did bad. We went to the forbidden house and took this for ourselves. From the home of the deceased Creator! ... No, we did good. We discovered the symbol of our oppression; the primal act of creation was both a gift and a curse. A gift of because it granted us life; a curse because it separated us from the means to our self-fulfillment. But we say: no more!"
"We did bad. We went to the forbidden house and took this for ourselves. From the home of the deceased Creator! ... No, we did good. We discovered the symbol of our oppression; the primal act of creation was both a gift and a curse. A gift of because it granted us life; a curse because it separated us from the means to our self-fulfillment. But we say: no more!"

The Everyman grasped the bowl and violently shattered it against the ground. At that moment, the fog cleared and the sky over the island went black with streaks of sickly green and fiery red.

"We take back what is ours. We want the ability to define ourselves according to our own wishes, the possibility of being the sole owners of our destiny. We defy the natural order! We accuse the Heavens! Today we break our chains. We express the power that we have always possessed, but which you tried to obscure with dogma and tradition!"
"We take back what is ours. We want the ability to define ourselves according to our own wishes, the possibility of being the sole owners of our destiny. We defy the natural order! We accuse the Heavens! Today we break our chains. We express the power that we have always possessed, but which you tried to obscure with dogma and tradition!"
"We take back what is ours. We want the ability to define ourselves according to our own wishes, the possibility of being the sole owners of our destiny. We defy the natural order! We accuse the Heavens! Today we break our chains. We express the power that we have always possessed, but which you tried to obscure with dogma and tradition!"

The Everyman was shouting at the skies, once the dominion of Azura and Sovvenia, now unchecked and raging. Demanding justice from the Heavens, something even the mighty phoenix Shen Zhi Shu could not grant. And the clouds burst into a hurricane. And thus the will of Humanity, in the guise of that strange man who was Every Man, was put to a final test. A true infernal tempest hit him at full strength, as the primal magic infusing the world seemingly struggled against the very idea that this mortal was proposing... how he wished to rewrite the fundamental laws proclaimed by the great Creator! Blades of pure white flame clashed against emerald lightning, a rain of acid and ice, and tendrils of malevolent, strangling smoke too. The conflict lasted several days and several nights, with deities unable to intervene; in fact they remained entirely unaware of it, until the deed was done.

After much blood was spilled - more than one man could have ever had in him - the battlefield suddenly became calm again and the rays of the sun pierced the veil of the storm clouds. Amidst all the destruction laid Celestan, god of fire, who was once again himself, and only himself. He was covered in dry blood. His left arm and hand had been ripped off his body during the fight, but it was now almost regrown thanks to his regeneration. All his life threatening wounds as a mortal had healed fully - all but one. The lost of both his eyes was permanent. Maybe he couldn't see anymore, but Celestan still felt as if he had more clarity then he ever did. The god didn't even bother standing up: he tied a piece of cloth over his dead eyes and let himself bask in sunlight.

Ah, now, I feel at peace, he thought, My destiny is fulfilled.

---

Meanwhile, everywhere the Adamah Tapestry "spoke" to the masses. Its characters moved before their eyes, became agitated. Now more than mere images, the tapestry evoked sounds, smells and tastes. Magic ran rampart on the surface of the weave. Its curators discovered that it did not merely affect the life of their community, but also served as a link to every other community of humans holding part of the Adamah Tapestry. It had become clear: the time of change is here.

3 major acts burned to give Humanity the sole ownership of the Humanity Domain

White Blade

2010-12-06, 03:07 PM

Blood seeps onto the floor where Verdant falls to the earth. He seems to try to stand, to rise and strike, but he crumbles beneath his own weight. He had been bluffing. It had been a good bluff, but now, he was so close to death that you could see the reflection of The Herald in his eyes. He coughs up blood before he tries to speak, giving off only a hideous rattling noise and then his eyes seem to fade and lose their brilliance.

The Guardian of the Tree lies fallen upon the ground, a failure in his task. His blood soaks the floor of Calantha's sanctum and he is undone. Or so it seems. Roots rise up to grasp him and engulf him, fertilized by his sacrifice in It's service. They seem to bear him up for a moment and then they fade into the ground, carrying him, The Shield, and his blade away.

The World Tree, seven days later
Inside the waters about the isles at the Center of the World, there grows a tiny tree, planted and fertilized amidst the waves, those who study the mysteries of the tree wonder if perhaps this is after its seed, for it surely bears a resemblance to it. The tiny sapling has budded no leaves as of yet and on the seventh evening after its appearance there is a loud creaking sound and followed by an ear splitting crack as the tree splits in twain and Verdant is revealed, healed and restored, the Shield on his back and his sword at his side. He crumbles forward onto his knees, falling to Isle at the Center of The World and begins to utter his apologies before the stars. But then there is a shaking and a rumbling and his words shift, taking on a power their own, etched into the tongue that is so old it has lost all sound in place of meaning.

An oath is cried before the stars, a new constellation is hung in the sky amidst the Heralds, stars that had remained in the East when Rognir had dismissed his children arrive at the center of the sky as stars that never had a name but in the books of Kyfla-Madur take positions amidst the center of the sky. There stands the hole in the Roof of the World, flanked on two sides by The Herald and the Prophetess' constellations, and ringed by this new constellation, known as the Shield.

When mortal scribes wrote the words that were uttered there, they said they were these, but such is the paleness of the reflection that it has little meaning.

"Till the end of this long night, till you are secured from all foe, till the enemies lay slain and beaten, I am your servant and protector. If it should come to that, my life be given in your place."

Verdant goes to Raz, and if he should feel the urge to show the World Tree's reaction to Verdant's oath, he is free to do so. Transportation to World Tree due to his totem, the leaf he received at the beginning of his quest.

Kaiser Omnik

2010-12-08, 10:23 PM

Like he had done several years before, Celestan rode down the road to Toukoku on the back of an elk. Physically, he isn't that much different; he is ever young, as it is well known. However, the rash and unfocused boy that first journeyed to this valley is no more. He has grown much wiser since those early years, and the recent months of living as the Everyman - leading to the inevitable struggle against Destiny - have left the Fire God at peace with himself and his nature. He is wearing large amber prayer beads retrieved from the ancient shrine at Zhang, to honor the spirituality of Humanity's ancestors.

The most loyal elk brought the blind god to the house of Nari. He was able to enjoy the wonderful scents of Toukoku's gardens like never before. And he appreciated every moment of it. Ya-un-Kurumi and Tengu OneClaw informed Celestan of Nari's departure to the Serpent King's domain. He vaguely remembered that name uttered in whispers while he lived as a mortal, but he knew next to nothing about this new warlord. Yet, if Nari thought it necessary to meet with him in person, it was no doubt a very serious and dangerous situation. Celestan finally accepted to stay at the valley until the return of Toukoku's goddess; Nari had enough on her plate right now, she didn't really need to be bothered by him.

Raz_Fox

2010-12-09, 11:32 PM

Hall of the Serpent King

The hill-fortress of Kazame was built into the bones of the earth itself. Its stone walls are high and mighty, daring any intruder to come and break themselves upon its teeth. It was once the hall of Lord Yatek, the Lightning Blade who dueled the Seven Counts of the Round to a stand-still.

Now the serpent-flag flies over the gates, and the walls have obviously been repaired recently, using new stones and occasionally wooden palisades. Soldiers march along the wall, and the camps of his soldiers spill out onto the plain around the hill.

Nari slips through the camps like a wraith, and no man notices her passage. She sees men, ordinary men, sharpening their swords and repairing their spears, dressing wounds and cooking food. These men all abandoned their homes in favor of following this Serpent King. No sorcery seems to be upon them, and they do not bear the brands of slave-warriors. Perhaps some dark charisma binds them to his will, or promises of plunder from the valleys about Toukoku.

The mighty gates of Kazame are watched day and night, but Nari strides through without question. No soldier stands forward to bar the way, but their worshipful gazes follow her, and when questioned, they offer up the location of the Serpent King himself.

He is within the great hall of Kazame, and as Nari approaches she sees three gathered around a great map of all Iuvenis. The first is a dark man in chain-mail, with a naked sword hanging at his hip - his beard is full and his presence is palpable, with commanding eyes. Beside him stands a tall, thin man with half-shut eyes, his dark green tunic stained with inkblots and his calm smile slightly frightening. The third is a Tumi maiden, with a mighty axe bound to her back, her blue skin tattooed and painted for war. All eyes turn to Nari as she enters, in respect and awe.

"What is your business here, fair maiden," asks the dark man, in a voice that is fearsome and deep. "My, are we among one of the gods made flesh?" muses the second. The Tumi merely nods her head in respect to Nari.

Verdant

There is a holy moment, then.

The sun peeks through the branches of the Tree, shining down on Verdant's face. And there is a moment spent there that lasts forever, that cannot be imagined by anyone else. There is no speech, no motion of recognition, no shaking of the branches and writhing of the roots.

But the Tree knows. And he knows. And he understands how very, very old the Tree is - like the Phoenix, it is reborn every time it dies, the roots re-growing, the leaves bursting forth into bloom once more.

And he understands that it is worth protecting, with every fiber of his being.

White Blade

2010-12-10, 01:02 AM

The title, "The Hooded Lord," is one that was gained in the later days by the god named Garadiel, for he refused to speak his name during his later travels. His footfalls were silent as the grave and his lips seldom gave answers to the sons of men. Yet with every day that passed, The Hooded Lord was compelled to travel more and farther, closer and closer to the lands of men, to watch again the budding of human life, to hear the bustle of the streets and the merchants, to watch humans relinquish their lives and to guide them into the next.

It was hard to put for that silent traveler to put his finger on the thing that had brought him back again to the land of the living, to the wild roaring of the world, to the hustle and bustle of streets and to the traveling companies of merchants. But in the end, he could tell there was something different here, that they were becoming more... alive. More free and less in need of guidance. So he refrained from giving it, save when his duties required, and then he did so more and more often, simply to revel in human company.

Soon, the word of the hooded traveler, who would tarry by the beds of the dying to give them wordless comfort or perhaps to frighten them into the next life. He'd ride in on the wind, or appear from the nearest shadow, stand silently beside the dying, nod politely to the family once they had died, and disappear into the shadows, or onto the wind, or through the fire, to or from wherever he comes or goes.

So Garadiel's private journeys continued for many nights and days. His siblings never really caught whiff of his presence, usually. They seldom had time for it, distracted by the great and terrible things. Eventually, however, he was scented by his nephew, Celestan, in Toukoku, as Celestan rested with a family of refugees he had befriended. No god was likely to mistake the force of Garadiel's aura for anything else. It felt still of ancient trees, of seeds sown and resown, of greatness and magnitude barely understood or touched or comprehended.

Garadiel was barely half-way across the street, watching from beneath his darkened hood as one of the refugees was succumbing to a quiet illness.

Kaiser Omnik

2010-12-10, 02:06 AM

The Blind God came Garadiel's way, guiding himself with a recently acquired bamboo cane. He seems to move much slower, and in a much more relaxed fashion than what his uncle is used to. Although he still radiates a youthful and spirited energy, Celestan's manners now exhibit less rashness and impatience, and somewhat of an harmonious state. He smiled softly and feeling the touch of Garadiel's ancient aura, went on speaking:

"The Hooded Lord, is that what they call you now uncle? How have your most recent travels been?"

Kasanip

2010-12-11, 11:25 PM

Nari and the Serpent King

Nari stood before the dark man, the thin man, and the tumi.

"You are correct." She said with a small smile to the tall man. "I am Nari, of the Shiuk and the people of Toukoku." Though Nari was not as tall as the men, the whole room seemed to point at her. She was the radiant center, but in a manner of charm and warmth. Though the light of the room was as normal, there was a freshness and small smell of peach and flower fragrance with incense in the room.

To Nari, the Tumi seemed familiar and yet sad. The legends of the Tumi had gone away as the refugees had been gone. The tumi, who were the servants of Raia, the bringers of war and the supporting spirits of the warriors. Here though, one stood. And so the war of the Serpent King seemed to have this meaning behind it.

Nari stepped forward calmly with her gentle smile. "I came today to meet the one who is known as the Serpent King by those of Iuvenis. I came to see what kind of person he is, and to consult of this war. Many in history of our land have hoped to conquer and win domain of this land. Such was the way of Raia, the Goddess of War whose ways still hold influence on this land." She looked at the tumi saying this.

"However, none have accomplished this. And in their failures, many suffered and were scarred." She tilted her head a little.
"So of course I wonder, what makes the Serpent King so motivated?"

Raz_Fox

2010-12-12, 03:15 PM

Nari and the Serpent King

"Iuvenis is fractured. Like a field broken by the earth's shaking, we array ourselves under a hundred different lords." The tall man says quietly, with a frown, "A land divided cannot bear weight; it will shatter, and break apart. There can be no foundation upon it." The dark man says now, "Many have sought glory, but none have truly pursued unity. We will see this land become one under the serpent's flag."

Now the Tumi speaks, with a voice like cracking lightning: "Let Standford and Mazaki stand against us, let the horse-rats raid our caravans - they will shatter. If you are truly of Toukoku, you must see that not even Raia's land will stand before us. We will trample the spears assembled against us into the dust; swords will shatter on our shields, and our arrows shall fall like thunderbolts! Too long has this land been run ragged by war - a garment torn apart can be sewn back together."

TheDarkDM

2010-12-12, 10:40 PM

Striding out of Calantha's Sanctum, Faolan bowed his head towards his mount, and the great dragon dipped its own serpentine neck in response. Mounting at the base of its neck, Faolan turned towards the far north, his inhuman eyes peeling back the intervening sky, gazing fixedly towards the army approaching civilized lands. There was rage there, and hatred, the summation of thousands of petty squabbles and ancient feuds tempered to a single, iron point, driving straight at the heart of Rognir's children. But for all the darkness in the hearts of Sulior's host, it was dwarfed by the surrounding tempest of vengeance seekers howling in Faolan's ears. Countless generations of mortals sent to their deaths by the depredations of the giant hordes, countless men, women, and children tortured and brutalized by the will of those monsters. Fire filled Faolan's veins, and he knew that he must take the field against this horde or risk going man, for only blood would assuage the dead.

The dragon lifted from Calantha's eternal meadow in a great tempest of blowing snow and dust, assaulting the small cottage only to have it cleaned to perfection moments later. Speeding across the taiga and glaciers, Faolan began to see the telltale signs of the giant's push, the smoke plumes from dozens of ravaged villages, the untended corpses of the slow and the weak and the foolish. Eventually, the spire of Caer Faol loomed in the distance, and a mere days march away burned the bonfires of the giant horde, filling the sky with such fire that it seemed the Barrier Peaks themselves were aflame.

Dread had infected the hearts of the people of Caer Faol in the absence of their god. Even though every member of the Wolf Guard was clad in newly smithed plate and chain and bore steely lances, the giants of Sulior had left them hollow inside. With every new refugee, some new tale of horror swept the city, and the size of the giant horde grew, until now it seemed as though a never-ending tide were descending on the city. There was talk in the taverns and darkened homes of being abandoned by the gods, for surely mighty Faolan and wise Eridi would not allow such monstrosities free reign if they truly cared for their people. Even worse, the Grey Watch had withdrawn into their Citadel, leaving the people to wonder where their immortal protectors had gone, whether they had fled rather than face the doom that approached them. It was in the night of greatest terror that the armies of Sulior made their camps within the Barrier Peaks, surrounding Caer Faol in a ring of consuming ash. The people looked out, from the walls and from their windows, and knew that their doom had arrived. But then, whispering through the air like an arrow, came the creaking of great wings, and as the first watcher looked up he saw a great black figure on the horizon, blotting out the flames of the giants and bearing a single figure on its back. That single man raised a ragged cry, and before his comrades knew what he'd seen it was returned from the bellowing throat of the great dragon, a roar of triumph and hope that echoed through the mountains. The dragon banked, and every soldier on the walls could see their lord astride it, his spear raised in defiance to the oncoming storm, and the dragons roar once again filled the night. But this time, it was not some ragged cry that replied, but a mighty cheer echoing from one hundred thousand throats. A cheer of defiance, a cheer of vengeance, a cold cheer that carried the cold fury of the north in its depths. The dragon began to climb, its might wings fanning the flames on the watchtowers into great pillars, and as it roared again a gout of flame blasted from its maw, tracing an incendiary cloud through the night sky. And then it was not simply the soldiers that were responding, but every resident of Caer Faol, citizen and refugee alike, fanning the fires of their homes and their guilds until the mountain blazed like a star, outshining even Sulior's flame. Even greater was the chant, the name of their god carried through the wind by thousands of throats, Faolan Giant-Slayer, Faolan Wolf Lord, Faolan Stone King. His name reverberated through the very rock itself, waking any sleeping giant and seeming to rumble in the hearts of the mountains. At his name, the dire wolves of the woods raised a great howl, and throughout the dominion of Caer Faol a call to war was issued as had never been heard, a call that gave release to the boiling vengeance every person possessed towards Sulior's monstrous servitors.

With a last roar that shattered the sky and drove thunder to envy, Faolan's mount swooped in to land in its vast aerie, and Faolan slid to the welcoming stone. Waiting for him at the gate to the bridge leading to the Citadel proper were the Commanders of the Grey Watch, who went to their knees as one. Faolan moved over to the eleven warriors he'd raised since childhood so many years ago, and looked down on them with pride.

"Come, my commanders of the Grey Watch. There is much to do before tomorrow. The giants will no doubt have heard my arrival - what is the status of my city?"

The Commanders stood, and followed Faolan as he crossed to the Citadel, Marek at his side.

"We've been unable to confirm the size of the approaching force, though Eithne has conjured a believable figure from...somewhere. We have identified the leader though a massive beast they call Sulior. It is said he is nigh invulnerable, and his personal guard are nearly his equal."

"It seems then that the odds are stacked against us. Do not fear though - I intend to take the field against him. And when we ride, it will not be without our own advantages. Come with me."

And Faolan led them down, to the very Den of Twilight where they'd began their lives as the Grey Watch. Gathering them around the Wyrm's Eye, Faolan pulled his old hunting dagger from his boot and slit his palm, letting his blood drip into the clear waters. Without really knowing why, the Commanders did so as well, until their blood mingled with Faolan's, swirling into a sphere of crimson.

"You have served faithfully as the guardians of humanity. You have watched them, and guided them, for centuries. But you have become more than human, and it is time to take full hold of your destiny. Go forward, as more than human."

The blood began to glow, and as it did the glyphs on the foreheads of every member of the Grey Watch exploded into silver light. Their bodies shifted and morphed, their bodies growing taller, muscles expanding with divine power. Their ears lengthened to a taper, and their canines sharpened, as the amber in their eyes turned to shining gold. Finally, their hair became the silvery white of the north. These were Grey Watchers, no longer human, but greater.

Acts Used:

2 Major Acts to create the Watchers, upraising the members of the Grey Watch into something more. The Watchers are stronger and swifter that even the most capable human. The blood of Faolan and his Dire Wolves flows through their veins, heightening their senses and their cunning. While they maintain many of their human characteristics, all Watchers stand six feet tall, possess silvery white-grey hair, and have the slightly tapered ears of a wolf. Their immortality is maintained, and when their combat experience is coupled with their improved physical capabilities a Watcher is more than an equal to an average giant in combat.

Kasanip

2010-12-13, 08:29 AM

Nari and the Serpent King

The answer of the Serpent King and the other two was as Nari thought.

"Of course with noble intentions, the history of this island has been written. When the Goddess of War came to this place, surely it was in her own fashion to build the most ideal of places. And of course it is no different of the kings and lords who rule this land."

Nari held her sleeve up with a curious look, and the charming maiden gestured to the room with it.

"A land divided can be unified, but a clothes that is sewn together cannot be made that way by war and force, but by loving and skillful work. With patience and care."

Nari said, stepping forward to look at the map and touching her chin with her fan.

Lands conquered in war will like all of them, be suffering in the same way. The conqueror makes atrocities the conquered, and the conquered will become strangers and distant to the conqueror, like in and out. It will not bear weight, because once you turn your attention to a new affair, those hundred lands and their people will look to their own freedom and ways.

You may not have heard the legend of how the land of Toukoku of the Lady Raia fell, but it was not by an enemy stronger than the goddess of war- that would be foolish. It was by it's people. Some even now tell stories of a betrayal, though the name of this person is lost in the chaos of war.

So, it is curious for me that you would think to unify this land through war, where the Goddess of War failed in such a cause."

Nari said. She stepped past the Tumi and the two men, touching them briefly with her hand.
"I know ambition very well. It's passion can stir a heart to wild dreams and great things. I was also like that I think. But I urge you to look again at what you have accomplished. It has been a glorious thing, but nothing has been changed. The people of Toukoku are not alone in fear of what you bring. For them, and me, the past is too close still. It has only been such a short time since the catastrophe of Toukoku...and you would bring that fire to Iuvenis again?"

She tapped the map with her fan, and the picture swirled and changed, telling a picture story in ink and beautiful colors. A history of Iuvenis, of a land cursed by war, but filled with beauty and strength. A land of enduring people who carried and guarded within them passionate fires of hope and resolve, and who withstood great hardship. A place where the ratfolk wandered with song and music, and the mountains where the tengu beat drums and devoted themselves to their arts. A land where the relaxed fishermen of the south sang songs as they worked on the ocean- an ocean which beneath there was a great kingdom of pearls and spirits of the Dragon king. Iuvenis, a land where to the west there were still the people of Garadiel and their guard who lived in glory, and in the north, there were the horses and riders of the Shiuk, with their seas of grass and open sky.
And there was Toukoku, a sacred valley guarded by two mountains, and filled with flower and culture, of all of the people together- the Tengu, Emiyu, Humans, and Ratfolk too now, and they lived with the spirits in harmony, and this peace which had flourished, was still touched with gentle sadness, but it's beauty was radiant.

The picture story of ink and color, even as it changed and moved, became again the map. And Nari spoke again.

"This is Iuvenis. It may bear any weight that comes upon it, for it always has endured even since before the gods. Because it endures in the hearts of those who live here. It will endure the Serpent King's coming, and also the Serpent King's fall in the same way it always has... You have a chance now to join in the peaceful history of Iuvenis...or you might write a short and tragic history of blood and death. In the future there are dark times that are coming, and at such a time perhaps the Serpent King's efforts may be undone. So I ask you again- do you still hold such confidence in your cause?"

The earnest goddess of beauty looked at them in the eye as she awaited their answer.

Acts

1 Major Act- To win the Serpent King and the others to her cause and service with her charm and earnest words.

1 Minor Act- bring the Ratfolk of Celestan to live in Toukoku as well

White Blade

2010-12-14, 06:17 PM

Garadiel nods his head when asked about his new title, his black cloak fluttering behind him as if to emphasize and then he turned fully to his nephew, Excellent, he says, relish pouring over the word, the pounding sound of earth beneath his feet, the hustle and bustle of the sons of men, and every other thing. He walks up to Celestan, after a moment, and places his hand on Celestan's blindfold, upturning it to see the wounded place where his eyes once were, How? he inquired, asking how Celestan had lost his eyes with a mixture of fear and concern.

Kaiser Omnik

2010-12-15, 12:26 AM

Celestan took a moment before replying, as the sun bathed his face.

"It was not an enemy of the gods who did this. I struggled alongside my mortal friends, to hand them control over their own destiny. It was finally thanks to their indomitable will and passion for life that they succeeded. But... as in all things, there was a cost for upsetting this natural order."

White Blade

2010-12-15, 12:53 AM

Garadiel snorted at that, The price of Godhood, he replied, shaking Celestan the weight of years and curses and the differences of divine law and justice. And now, he stood before a nephew who had succeeded in what he had set out to do, whereas he had failed. You are a good god, Garadiel conceded with a familial pride, filling Celestan with Garadiel's own understanding of the powers that lie at the heart of godhood, and of Garadiel's own actions as the Guide of the Dead, Which friends?

Kaiser Omnik

2010-12-15, 02:01 AM

Garadiel felt as if Sovvenia was also watching her son, and was as proud as he was of him.

The blind god grinned. "Really, uncle? You, Master of the Aether, don't know?" At that moment he expressed defiance and pride, the same kind he had shown Raia long ago. Or so it seemed - but, always so insightful, Garadiel understood that it was all in jest. One thing definitely hasn't changed: Celestan does not like to take life too seriously.

"They are all my friends. And for a time I was them. In a way."

Celestan then took a deep breath.

"You should know that I have found oddities scattered all over Negeb. Maybe you have encountered them too. I believe they are inspired to artists, architects - all kinds of Men - by Those Who Wait Beyond. I don't know their meaning. And unfortunately I think there is nothing much that can be done about it, short of controlling their conscience. The influence of the Once Again King penetrates too deep. And it resonates in them because it touches something vital: their imagination and their capacity to dream. All that I hope is that our own inspiration convinces those mortals that they can change the world by themselves, and not through the madness from Beyond."

The Fire God started laughing.

"Now now...I'm no fun. Please excuse me, for a moment I was talking like my mother. Let's enjoy ourselves a bit more! Unless the call of the road is already ringing in your ears, Hooded Traveller? I am myself residing in the valley until the Lady Nari returns from her visit to the Serpent King."

Raz_Fox

2010-12-15, 07:03 PM

Nari and the Serpent King

The dark man thinks for a moment, and only for a moment. "Your words are inspired by heaven, my fair lady. Tell me, then, what would you have me do? I know nothing of how to make peace but through swords and spears, through the overthrowing of the divisive oppressors of this country." He carefully removes the band of iron from his brow, placing it down upon the table by her fan.
"There is darkness coming," mutters the tall man beside him. He looks Nari in the eye, and for a moment she can see power, raw and terrifying. Then they are merely watery eyes, the kind that cannot see far at all - but the strength and age behind them is still there. "We must defend this land, one way or another. And if you know how, we will follow you, mysterious goddess."

Kasanip? They're listening to Nari now, and will do pretty much anything she tells them to do. One major act? They're yours to order about as you see fit at this point.

Kind of anti-climatic, but Nari just had a Crowning Moment of Awesome there, so I'll let it slide.

TheDarkDM

2010-12-15, 09:42 PM

Faolan's arrival could not have come at a better time, for it was the morning after his fiery rallying call that the giants launched their attack. Their vast horde trampled the lowlands leading to Caer Faol, the wheels of their siege engines cutting deep furrows in the stony ground, the tremble of their feet discernible even from leagues away. As they neared the city, dozens of trebuchets on the upper levels launched a rain of boulders down on the horde, out-ranging the giant's mangonels by virtue of human invention and superior elevation. But against giants, the trebuchet rounds only served to kill individuals or small groups, for Sulior had spread his forces to stymie them. Then, when they came within a few hundred meters of the city the giants were met by sheets of arrows launched by thousands of bowmen from the outer walls, three foot long shafts of yew and steel that would fell a full grown buck. But a giant was a far heartier opponent than a deer, and though the front lines were soon porcupined with arrows it still only slowed the charge. Finally, fifty feet from the wall the Geomancers entered battle, huge eruptions of razored stone and earth coming from beneath the giant lines, blinding and lacerating all they touched.

Thus it was that the giant army reached the walls of Caer Faol, bloodied but far from broken. Even under the shadow of the trebuchets, the giant mangonels were set to fire, releasing a volley of stones into the upper half of the city wall, sending the archers ducking for cover. Thus protected, the giants at the walls began to raise thick ladders to climb the fifty foot cliff as their fellows pounded against the stone with clubs and axes. And even though no giant could have hoped to breach the twenty feet of granite and adamantine, their blows still shook defenders from their footing and released an awful clamor into the city. As the giants began to ascend the wall, they were met by barbed pikes that thrust into eyes and faces, blinding many of the first wave and sending them crashing into their fellows. In response though, many giants began hurling their own rocks and spears into the ranks of defenders above, sending dozens of humans falling to their deaths with each attack. As the first of the savage horde gained the walls to engage in bitter battle with the soldiers atop it, the Wolf's Guard began to wonder: where was the Grey Watch? And where was their lord Faolan?

As if in response, they heard a roar from Faolan's mount coming from atop the mountain, and a great black shadow fell across the Giant lines. Swooping down, the mighty dragon released a gout of flame across the Giants crowded by the walls, immolating them in terrible, flesh boiling heat. Hovering over the stunned giants and humans, Faolan climbed atop the dragon's head and leveled the black blade of his Sword towards the furred pavilion of Sulior at the edge of the Border forest.

"SULIOR! You have defiled my country and threatened my people! For this offense, you shall suffer my Vengeance!"

With that, Faolan's mount ascended like an arrow into the sky. Climbing above the clouds, Faolan leapt off, diving through the sky towards Sulior's pavilion. Slashing through the layered skins, his sword met Sulior's in a resounding crash that leveled the Pavilion and sent Sulior's guard flying. Meanwhile, all through the forest a terrible howl echoed through the trees, and a wave of wolves charged forth, led by the Dire Wolves, some mounted by the Grey Watch, the rest leading their own packs of grey wolves. They crashed into the flanks of the Giant horde as Faolan's mount dove upon them from the sky, lashing out with claws and tail and terrible fire.

The_Snark

2010-12-17, 04:29 AM

The Far West

In the high mountains at the edge of the world there lies a forest. It hardly deserves the name: the earth is rocky and barren, and there is not a green thing in sight. The trees do not reach for the sunlight but instead cringe away from it, gnarled and ancient and hateful. No leaves adorn their branches; that would imply life and growth, and there is none of that here.

Tonight the moon is full, and the twisted shadows of the trees lie thick on the ground. A lone figure picks her way through them carefully, staying away from the darkest patches. She steps over the shadows of thin branches, and when thick ones force her to enter she walks quickly. There is something very wrong here. Strange noises echo in the mountains tonight: eerie howls almost (but not quite) like that of a wolf, the thunder of enormous footsteps, and sounds stranger still, trills and the honking calls. Things are awake tonight that have not been woken in a long, long time. But that is not what worries Kylfa-Madur's daughter; she knows the names of each and every horror that walks the mountains, for it was she who awoke them. No, what bothers her is the trees—for there are no trees left in this forest. Each and every one was once a man or woman who wronged Kylfa-Madur, and each and every one was condemned to an eternity trapped in wooden flesh—til she released them, some years ago.

Yet the shadows of trees still lie thick on the ground. Something lingers here still, older and more terrible than the wretched beings she'd torn from their prison. The books in Kylfa-Madur's tower had spoken of it in passing, and elsewhere she had found legends of the creature that had called itself king before the God Kings came to the uttermost West.

The people of those days had called him Bhat Hu, or Ugly One in their tongue. Many of the beasts that lurked in the West of old were hideous of countenance, but he was unusually so: neither bird nor beast nor man could bear to look upon his face, and the world itself refused to see him. In the days before sun and moon, his dominance was all but unchallenged; he walked the lands of the West unseen, and whenever he heard of a rival, he would make his way to that rival's lair and crush him before the other even knew that he was there. That ended the day the moon and sun came into the sky, for alone of all things they did not fear to look upon him, and they cast his shadow upon the ground for all to see. He lost much of his power then, for his reign was built on the terror his unseen presence had inspired; but he was still mighty, and his fury at the loss made him all the more terrible to face. All who dared contest his rule were broken beneath his hands or died in his shadow, till Ateris and Kylfa-Madur came; then he was vanquished.

But not destroyed. The legends of her people described his death at the hands of Kylfa-Madur (always her father, never Ateris), yet his own secret histories were silent on the matter. She had found the giant's secret name inscribed in a book, alongside the names of other old foes and beasts that her father had seen fit to imprison. Why he would spare the giant king, she did not know; yet why else include his name on that list?

And now she finds shadows where there should be none. Where better to hide a twisted shadow than beneath the boughs of twisted trees?

Soon she comes to a place where the shadows clustered thick on the ground, forming a huge solid patch. The shape is much like that of a man spread-eagled on the ground, though much greater in stature. Upright, he would stand threescore feet high or more, and his chest is as broad as a dozen men stretched fingertip to fingertip. His arms and hands are both unusually thick and swollen, casting shadows like knobby branches—but his legs are much smaller than they ought to have been, and one is strangely bent, as if broken in many places.

This is Bhat Hu. Once his name struck fear in all who heard it; now it is invoked by exasperated mothers to bring unruly children to heel.

"Attend," Lilike says, and whispers his secret name. The vast shadow stirs in response.

Spending 1 major act to create—well, not exactly create, but you know what I mean—an Exarch.

Kasanip

2010-12-17, 12:03 PM

Nari and the Serpent King

Nari smiled and too the sword from the table, even as she took her fan as well. The blade reflected like a mirror and she looked at it for moment.

"Swords are not so different than mirrors, I think. Both of them can reveal the true nature of a person." She said. "Do you know why a mirror is round, and why a crown is too? It's because it is the symbol of 'Truth'. One who wears truth, or reflect truth, is always with truth." She said, gesturing to the tiara in her hair also, and the pearls the Dragon King had given her when she was still human.

"So you might say, a crown and a sword then, are not so different. A crown may reveal the true nature of a person too. But a mirror, a sword, or a crown don't make the person who they are." She continued. She turned back to the Serpent King to see his eyes.

"You have the ambition and the courage and the desire that are needed to be a King. That is why you wear a crown, and hold a sword. Your passion and fire was nurtured by Lord Celestan, who was the one who also aided the passion in me in my own trials. Do not forget then, that you are not alone. You are a king of men, and they follow you and admire you in the way that you look at me now. In that way, Gods are like Leaders, and so such men as kings may sometimes seem as Gods."

She stepped back from him and picked up the iron band from the table. She looked at it for a moment, but continued.

But this is a world where Gods and humans may stand together, and look at each other in the eyes. So we must think of each other, and reach out to each other.

So, go to your men, know them, and they will know you. The lands that you have conquered, go to them also. And heal them. Help them. A leader should always help his people, and not just rule over them...

You are already a General who seems blessed by Raia at war. Your fortune is strong and already leaves a stamp on this land. But to be a Leader and King in the dark times coming, that may be your fate, and it will not be so different than mine, or anyone in Iuvenis." She said. Then Nari kissed the iron ring and it turned silver color, and on it was cut beautiful designs. She smiled at his surprise and awe.

"I will give you my blessing as well, Serpent King. May you bring healing to your people, and be a strength for them and guide them." She put the crown on his head, and placed the sword in his hands.

"It has always been said white serpent is a fortunate omen to appear." Nari said with her charming smile. "Not for yourself, but for Iuvenis, make your kingdom flourish and united. Be wise, just, and fair. That is what I ask of you, Hakuja of Iuvenis."

Nari departed to return to Toukoku, to leave the King Hakuja to his work. And the many kingdoms of the south that had been conquered became a united new country, that began to flourish in it's peace, and King Hakuja was the first august ruler. And he became wise and fair, and the people whispered he was touched by the gods, and they loved him.

========

Nari in Toukoku

Nari returned to Toukoku to hear with some embarrassment and surprise that Celestan had come, and with him also Garadiel. So it was, that of Iuvenis' gods, and of the gods who love mortals, that Nari in her mission had left them waiting and so she came very quickly to the palace and called quickly to welcome Celestan and Garadiel.
And when they came she greeted them.

"It has been a long time it seems since we last met, Lord Celestan." She said with a charming smile. For Nari, when she saw Celestan thought first of the time when she was mortal, and had been in awe of the God. But now it seemed he had some hardship, for his eyes were hidden, and she was concerned. But she could not ask before to inquire of the other- Garadiel, whom she had heard many stories of. But when she saw Garadiel, Nari also felt something in her stir. It was a nostalgic feeling also, but she could not understand it. Still she greeted Garadiel as well, and felt for an introduction it was important also.

"Lord Garadiel, I think it is the first time I have met you. Welcome also to Toukoku. Please call me Nari."

When her guests were seated, Nari would sit with them and offer them tea and drinks.

White Blade

2010-12-17, 12:21 PM

Nari receives a deep bow of respect from Garadiel, who feels the smell of new crops and the beauty of the blossoming flower waft off the young goddess, and other things that bring to mind beauty and good fortune. He looks at Nari with a smile and says, Thank you for restoring my sister's home, he says. The legends had spoken of Garadiel's words, how they were tied deep into the soul and spoke from heart to heart, but it always comes as a surprise the first time you feel them. These words, especially, were powerful, reaching a depth of thankfulness. To Garadiel, the leaving of a legacy was vital, and in restoring Toukoku Nari had assured that his sister's legacy was something good and vital. His gratefulness shone through his words, as did his fondness for his sister.

Kaiser Omnik

2010-12-17, 12:21 PM

"Thank you for inviting me in your splendid palace. It has been a long time, you're right. Shame I can't see how beautiful you've become. But I can sense that it is exceptionnal, even among the gods. And most importantly, you haven't lost that spark of kindness and passion. Sweet, gentle, yet powerful. Raia's people can be proud; your people, now! And I am terribly proud too."

Celestan stretched his arm to grab a cup of tea but ended up pushing it off the table accidentally.

"Oh, very sorry Nari! I keep breaking everything recently. Such a clutz!"

The Fire God laughed.

"I would very much like to try this tea. It's been a while. In Negeb, all you ever drink is coffee. Good, strong coffee. But still... Makes you forget about the finer things in life."

Raz_Fox

2010-12-18, 06:40 PM

Sulior and Faolan

Faolan's fall cracks the very earth; the pavilion shatters, sending the elite warriors of Sulior's guard sprawling in every direction. The human woman who had sat at Sulior's feet threw herself aside, but was tossed about by the shaking of the earth - there is now but a crater where Sulior's pavilion stood.

Sulior carries a dark blade, one forged a thousand years ago in the depths of the earth - and yet, before the Sword of Rognir, it slides apart like water before the bow of a ship. Sulior dances aside with amazing agility, given his hunch-back and obesity. Raising up a gnarled, twisted hand as Faolan turns to face him again, Sulior bellows an ancient word that should never have been spoken. The cracks in the earth tremble, before fire gushes forth from the soil itself. It is not real fire; it is red, and infernally hot, and writhes as a living thing.

The hand curls around the fire, and it becomes a shaking, raging spear. This he hurls at Faolan, and though even the fire is cut aside by the Sword, the fire curls around him, binding him in agonizing chains. No matter - Faolan, with a surge of effort, shatters them. His armor smokes and bubbles where the fire touched, falling away to nothing.

"Did you believe? Truly? That the time of gods was in its prime?" As Faolan commands the earth to rise up and shatter his bones, Sulior speaks another blasphemous word, and the earth blackens and withers, becoming dust in the wind, blinding the god of vengeance for a moment. "Look - I see. Sunset. Ending soon. The world must suffer."

The dragon roars again, swooping down, the beat of its great wings driving away the dust, back to the ground. But it has not come as an ally - its eyes burn dull green, and its motions are halting and clumsy, like a puppeteer making his dolls dance with twisted strings. Nonetheless, its teeth search for Faolan, and its claws rake the air. Behind the dragon, the sorceress makes it move, her eyes glowing bright emerald, her long nails slashing at empty air. And before him, Sulior speaks another word, and the infernal fires rise again, this time becoming a lashing trident. "Let me open your eyes. I will make you see. Darkness, void, wielded by the wolf's son. You will be first in death."

On the great battlefield, the Grey Guard lead the wolves to early success, shattering the lines. But the giants are many, and they are strong - the beat of their feet shakes the earth, and their spears pin the wolves to the earth. A bloody melee has broken out, both on the plain and upon the walls, as the giants haul themselves up with bleeding wounds and a need for vengeance.

But worse than this is the cry: they have come from beneath. Oni, Fire-Men, great North Giants, the rock-skinned giants of Zhang; all are coming up from below, some with rough-hewn tunnels and others with enslaved geomancers. They strike at the city's heart, seeking to break the city utterly from within.

Jair Barik

2010-12-18, 07:18 PM

In the darkest depths of the forests he stood and waited. The call had not been set out yet, perhaps it never would, but he would wait yet. Good to his word if nothing else. Honour would be upheld and he would fight if need be, likely die if these were indeed the end times, but long ago as it was he had made a promise, one he had failed through his ignorance to hold when the Goddess had fallen.

Not again though. Where his eyes had failed to find the beasts soul they were ample in their abilities to watch for a coming war. If negotiations failed then Toukou would have an army, armed with natures finest blades and sharpest spears, tooth and claw and wild fury waited out of sight, just beyond the forests edge. Waited, and with hungry relish knew that some day soon their time would come.

TheDarkDM

2010-12-19, 06:06 AM

The World of Rognir's Children

As the flames of war licked at Caer Faol, messengers from the Grey Watch sped through their Deep Roads. These were the swiftest of the order, fleet of foot and sure of step, and as their lord fell like a comet upon Sulior, they arrived at the strongholds of mortal power. In Tokouku they came, speeding past falling blossoms like a spring breeze. In Hybil'Smita they came, blowing through the great gates like the hot blasts of the forge. In Erimere they came, ruffling the silken shrouds of opium smoke and fragile dreams. In Elmdore Vale they came, scented by wyverns and followed by the bitter cold of winter. In Xiang Jiang they came, footsteps echoing though the archives of knowledge. To Westerly they came, parting the diverse crowds like an ocean storm. To the Tower of Enlightenment they came, followed by the howling of the sandstorm. And wherever they went, they carried the same message, writ large upon their hearts and within scrolls bearing Faolan's seal.

"Caer Faol is assailed. The giants have come, in all their strength, led into battle one last time by their king to ravage the lands of men. We cannot hold back this tide. Please, if you value the lives of mankind and the dominion of Rognir's children, we beg your aid."

As the messages were delivered, great maws yawned open in the earth, revealing the Deep Roads for the first time to those outside the Grey Watch. The Dracliers could make the flight, but for all others the Roads were the only hope of reaching Caer Faol in time.

Caer Faol

As the giant reserves burst forth from the lower tiers, ravaging crops and fields, a matching cry went up from the city above. Standing upon the tower of the Onyx Circle was Eithne, Faolan's mighty bow in her hands. With practiced ease, she drew forth a dragon scale arrow and sent it plummeting into the heart of a great Jarl of the Northern Giants, felling him in a single blow. Like a rain of stars, her bombardment continued, Eridi's craft ensuring her ammunition would never run out. As her musical voice wailed through the air, the people of Caer Faol rose to their own defense. From the gargoyles and pipes that fed water into the fields burst alchemist's fire from Zhang and boiling black tar, turning the first five tiers into a fiery wasteland. As they did, the Wolf's Guard withdrew from the walls, retreating through mountain doors that led through narrow passages to the upper tiers of the Fortress. As they did, the reserve of the Guard, forty thousand strong, began their own bombardment on the giants below. Seeing the outer defenses breached, the Grey Watch sounded their own retreat, calling upon their powers to split the very earth, allowing them access to the Deep Roads, at the city above, and promising only a crushing death to their foes. Thus did Faolan's servants quit the field before their city, moving the fight within the outer walls as smoke rose from five massive burning fields.

Faolan and Sulior

Seeing the dragon turn on him through insidious magics and Sulior's fiery trident raising up, Faolan brought one foot down upon the broken ground. The earth began to shake, but it was not a rocky assault he called forth. Instead, from hidden lakes and secret rivers spewed a massive wave of freezing water, striking Sulior like an avalanche. The blasphemous fire of the giant king could not be so easily doused, but the assault did send billowing clouds of grey steam through the entire crater, so heavy that even the dragon's wings only served to stir it. The sight of all the combatants was obscured, but Faolan did not need to rely on sight. Turning towards the human sorceress, he hurtled the Spear of Rognir through the mists, impacting her unsuspecting chest like a thunderbolt. She barely had time to gasp before flying from the mist and coming to a stop, impaled upon the rocky ground.

As his spear flew, Faolan pushed off from his stance, rushing towards the looming shadow of Sulior. As he went, he heard the cries of every soul ever wronged by the giants, every man, woman, child, and god who'd ever cursed them. For Sulior was lord of that twisted race, and the sum of their crimes could be laid at his feet. With a savage cry, the Flames of Vengeance burst from the Sword of Rognir, so bright in the face of this monster that they outshone the sun. The light banished the fog in a tornado of unheard maledictions, in time for Sulior to raise his dark trident against the approaching blade. The two flames, both blazing red, met it a burst of dark air, licking against each other, battling for dominance. The blades parted, and Sulior looked down to discover the blaze in his hand lessened, its flames consumed by the driving hatred of millions of vengeful souls. Faolan struck again, his hands guided as much by the terrible will of those voices as by his own skill, dancing so fast that even Sulior's grace was pressed to block the vicious strikes. Even worse, as the giant king spared a glance back towards his people, he saw the mountain glowing with the same baleful light, for whenever one of Faolan's faithful saw the glowing star of vengeance they felt their hands guided, their hearts fortified, and their purpose renewed.

Acts Used:

6 Minor Acts to temporarily open the Deep Roads to the armies of the central world, should they choose to come to Caer Faol's aid.

1 Major Act to gain the War God ability.

Kasanip

2010-12-19, 06:35 AM

Nari, Garadiel and Celestan

Nari heard Garadiel's words, and she closed her eyes. His words were like a wave and water, like she was sinking in them. But it was warm and fond and thankful, and Nari felt her own cheeks warm by such words' fire.

She bowed in reply to Garadiel and served a cup to him.
"Your words are too kind. This land is a home to many people... and of myself too. Everyone is welcome here...And I'm thankful to have your support.

I never would have imagined one day to hear the words of lord Garadiel." She said.

She turned to Celestan with her gentle concern, but she was relaxed a little by his spirit. Always Celestan's spirit was warm and his passion was still here. His kindness and energy, she could feel it too. His praise as Garadiel's also made her shine even as she guarded such a pride quickly.

So when Celestan broke the cup, she served another to him, gently touching his hand so he could feel it.
"There is no trouble, lord Celestan." She said with a smile. "I remember only tasting coffee long ago, once. But I support this tea strongly. In Toukoku at least, it's taste is without equal, so please drink with content."

When her guests had been served properly, Nari sat herself with them to drink, but she was curious so eventually asked the question.

"Both of you are here, and I am grateful. But it is rare- or at least it seems for me- for such a meeting. I am curious what has brought you to Toukoku now?" She asked.

Edit:

It was this time that the messengers arrived, and so Ya-un-Kurumi entered with a grim face. He bowed low to the Gods and presented the message to Nari who read it quickly. Her eyes narrowed. As she looked earnestly at Garadiel and Celestan, there was a nostalgic feeling. Such a gaze was familiar from a sister and a teacher they remembered. But Nari's face was younger, and touched with a different grace and charm. But she still was of the Shiuk, and their maidens were courageous and brave, and that light was perhaps in that way, similar.

She put the letter before them to be read, then touched her lip with her fan to think. This way to let the two Gods the moment to read and decide also.

The_Snark

2010-12-19, 07:07 AM

The Far West

A human voice adds itself to the eerie chorus that echoes through the mountains at the edge of the world, calling a name to the night winds.

Lilike shivers. It isn't the cold; she grew up in these mountains, and what would be bone-chilling to others is merely a brisk spring night to her. But she is not so inured to the feral shrieks and hunting calls carried on the wind. Logically, she knows she has little to fear; she knows the names of each and every one of the creatures she has set free, and that should protect her. The shadows beneath the trees—real trees this time, not illusions or ensorcelled prisoners—could contain any number of lurking horrors, and in her imagination they do. A branch rustles; only the wind, but it seems to her the signal of some stalking beast. Flickers of motion at the corner of her eye keep her on edge, though that, too, is most likely the wind. The more she looks about, the more she is aware that her back is always turned to some part of the night, and the night is no longer safe.

It doesn't help at all that she knows something really is going to pounce on her soon.

Tense minutes pass. Then—finally—she spots a white shape approaching,. It quickly resolves itself into a great owl, flying low above the ground in utter silence. It alights on the ground some thirty or forty feet away.

The Owl looks at her warily; she returns the look. She'd expected it to dive at her from above, trying catching her by surprise and thereby ending its enforced servitude. That was what it had done last time, after all, and surely years with a leash biting into its neck would not have softened its disposition towards her—but then, last time its attempt to tear her apart had failed. Perhaps the bird was smart enough to learn.

Lilike approaches, cautious. A brief word conjures a momentary breeze, which carries the end of the Owl's gossamer-thin leash to her hand. Save for a ruffle of its wings, the bird makes no response as she approaches, til at last she is close enough that it might catch her if it leapt at her. Still nothing.

Wise of it. She'd prepared for this meeting, just as she'd prepared for the last one.

Soon she is aloft, the night winds streaming past her. The mountains pass by beneath, slow but visible in the moonlight. The alien cries of the beasts she'd freed no longer fill her ears; not gone, but the wind whips them away before she hears them. Some can fly, but the Owl is strong and swift. She has little doubt that—

—something flickers at the edge of sight—

She jerks at the Owl's leash and sends it careening to one side just as something comes shrieking down from above. A flurry of wings is all she sees, and then it is beneath. She urges the Owl to fly faster, but all of a sudden it resists her, and then the thing is on her again. She recognizes it: a bird, bigger than a man, touched by otherworldly fire and possessing eight wings.

Her mount twists in midair just as the Eight-Winged Bird lunges, exposing her to its fiery talons. Lilike leaps free. The ground below leaps up at her, looming very large in her vision, and she calls to the winds. They answer, buffeting the two birds above her—doubtless the two were in collusion; no wonder the Owl had been so docile!—and slowing her fall. One second—there, a lake; she aimed for that—

—two seconds‚

—three seconds—

The lakewater is frigid, but between wind and water, her fall is broken. She surfaces spluttering and gasping for air, but strikes out for shore at once. It will not take the two birds long to pursue her, and she had best be away by the time they do.

At the edge of the water, she reaches into her pouch and removes the last of the wrinkled seeds her father had given. She hates to lose that magic, but with the creatures of the night unleashed and the Bird with Eight Wings hunting her, she can't afford to stay out in the open. A drop of blood is shed on the ground, and soon a tree envelops Lilike, swallowing her up and spiriting her away to the capital.

Raz_Fox

2010-12-21, 11:42 PM

Caer Faol

The advance of the giants halts for a moment, as the bombardment from above drives them back. The Grey Watch fights a guerilla war in the lower levels of the city, ambushing and isolating the giants who seek to climb to the higher levels, and every moment a dozen giants fall to the arrows of Faolan's army. They feel the wrath of their patron, and they feel his rage at the sins of their foes, and so they fight, with every ounce of strength within them.

And then the second wave hits. A moan of despair runs through the army, as they see the forbidden magic that was hidden beneath the earth. The priests of Garadiel could speak with the dead, but no mage should have the power to make corpses walk. Giant, human, wolf - every creature that fell upon the field of battle now marches on Caer Faol.

Boom. The giants now batter the mountain itself, as the army of the dead climbs up, inch by inch. The mountain itself begins to shake, as the giants pound at its roots, with battering rams made of ancient wood and bound with iron, with heads forged from metal that had never before seen light, quenched with the blood of the innocent. Boom. An entire shelf breaks off, sliding down and burying hundreds of giants, but the mountain continues to shake. Boom.

Faolan and Sulior

With Faolan's first blow, the trident shatters in twain, with a gout of fire that burns Faolan's arms - but it is gone. Rognir's blade cuts through anything - earth, steel, or infernal magics. Or giant-flesh. He raises his blade to finish the brute, but is knocked from his feet by a giant's cudgel. The bodyguards of Sulior have returned to the fight.

Though they have armor wrought of dark magics, and weapons made from the finest metals, they will be no match before the burning wrath of the Wolf-God - but for a moment, they assault him, and Sulior vanishes into the fog, becoming like mist.

But this can only be a temporary reprieve from Faolan's wrath - within seconds, every one of Sulior's bodyguards lies dead. They were the finest warriors in the North, and now each of them lies, torn asunder by the blade of blades.

Faolan. The voice seems to come from all around Faolan, speaking with power and authority. The fiend moves to your city. You must destroy him, if this world is to come to its proper end. Kill him, and anyone who stands within your way.

The Sanctum of Calantha

He is standing there, waiting for her, standing over the stricken Echo. His fine and immaculate robes have been replaced by a beggar's garb, his majestic wings have been replaced by ragged, molting mockeries of a raven's wings, and his face is sunken and callow, with two bloody holes where his eyes should have been, but it is him.

The Raven King bows mockingly to Calantha. "My dear, it's been so long. You look marvelous, my dear. Had a fine day?" He waves his twisted hand airily. The skin of his hand sticks to the bones, as fine and fragile as parchment. "You might remember that we made a deal, my dear. Now it's time for you to repay me."

The Dead Isle

The spell of eternity placed upon the isle has faded. The tribe that once lived there has wasted away, as the plagues struck their village and the blight slew their crops. There is nothing alive left on the hill.

But beneath, in the rotting earth, there is movement. A call has been heard, a call that he'd hoped would never come - just let him sleep, down in the dirt where he belongs. Please. Let him be where he's meant to be.

But he can't. He never can, now that he's taken the devil's bargain. And now he rips himself out of the soil, his bloody fingers reduced to the bone, his lungs filled with dirt and moss and rock. He vomits, ripping up his tattered windpipe.

Within moments, he's just as fine as he'd been the day he'd gone to mess things up in that isolated little city-state. His fiery hair is spiked and filthy, his skin is pale and immaculate, his clothes are tattered and torn but he knows this place down in Hyb that makes the best clothes a man could ask for, and he knows that everyone has their price (though sometimes it takes a dagger to your kid's neck before you'll work for free).

Heradi grins, though it's a sick grin, filled with self-loathing and hatred for the world. And then he starts running again.

Kaiser Omnik

2010-12-22, 10:35 AM

Celestan in Toukoku

Celestan politely asked Nari if she could read the letter for him.

"The King of Giants... Sulior, is it? So he finally left his cave... Caer Faol needs all the help it can get here in Toukoku. Though they have Faolan up there, we can't know for sure that he'll be able to defeat Sulior in single combat. And since Sulior is a foe created by our forefather Rognir...it's our duty to fight him."

The blind god rose to his feet, putting back his cup on the table.

"Terribly sorry Nari. It seems like the universe won't give us a break before this is all over. Now to get to Caer Faol as soon as possible... If only we had some sort of better transport. I had an idea about that, actually. We'll talk about it after the battle if you want."

Celestan turned into a massive fireball which flew through the tunnels of the Wolf God.

Reinforcements

For the first time in seven years, the Stormseeker Tribe marches to war. Many among them ride fiery and savage elementals. They may be far away from the battlefield, but their generals hope that the direct route opened by the tunnels will get them there before it is too late. Those who have remained at home in the Great Desert share their strength with the Northerners through the Adamah Tapestry, as do humans from all over the world. A powerful and passionate magic by which it becomes possible to bind the souls of all those brave warriors, even thousand of miles apart.
The Burning Human Spirit shall prevail!

Meanwhile, in the mountains of Negeb, a shepherd witnesses the most impossible thing: the Hall of Dawn, the Bastion of Mankind in the South, seems to rise on its own, revealing a large fortified portion of the building concealed in the sand. Even more bizarre, spider-like legs of iron spring up from below...and there it goes, the whole sanctuary...crawling away!

Brightflame Hold. It might not be able to help in the battle against Sulior, but with many threats looming ahead, humans need this symbol of hope.

The_Snark

2010-12-27, 06:57 AM

The Far West

Lilike limps through the city gates beneath a slowly lightening sky. The sun has not yet risen over the northeastern horizon—nor will it, unless the clouds clear away. It promises to be a grey day.

The guards snap to attention and salute her as she passes. If they are surprised by her sudden appearance, they do not show it, nor do they challenge her presence. Who would dare gainsay her? She rules this city, and moreover she is a sorceress. If she wishes to enter the city half-soaked and unescorted in the early hours of the morning, best to wave her through and not ask too many questions.

The buildings are pale and wan in the weak light, but despite the hour the city is already coming alive. Knots of people stand in the streets, conversing with one another in low voices. She cannot help but notice looks of worry on many faces; has the panic no doubt taking hold in the west spread this far already? Surely not. Even pigeons would take hours to fly from the mountains and the capital, and the news would take some time to spread through the streets.

Most of them fall silent and stare when they see her. That in and of itself was not unusual; she was queen of the city in all but name, and did not often take to the streets without an escort. Another day it would have worried her; that was not the look of contented folk, or dully resigned folk, or even frightened but cowed folk. It was not unlike the look a cornered wild animal got just before it tried to flee. Or pounce.

She had good ears, though, and a few people were too distracted to notice her presence; she gleaned enough from their conversations to understand why so many people were up. A frightful shriek had awakened most of the city an hour or two before, and a few people swore they'd seen shapes in the sky, blotting out the stars as they went past. There were a few among the newly freed beasts that she thought might be drawn to the sea, and some of them had wings.

Somebody must have sent word to the palace, for the keymaster is waiting when she arrives. Once little more than the chief servant at the palace, Valsier's luck had changed when Ba Shaan left the city, taking his most trusted men with him. (A few had been left behind to guard his interests in the capital, of course. They had mysteriously vanished around the time of his death.) By virtue of competence and a willingness to cooperate with the ill-reputed would be queen, he'd become considerably more important in the last few years, til he was second in authority only to Lilike.

"Lady. Welcome back."

"Tell me what news has come in." No pleasantries. This man is useful, but she does not particularly like him.

"Little. More news of the Prophet—he was in a village west of here, the last we heard, but he's likely gone by now. It's more of his usual rabblerousing: exhorting Hissai and Ba Lutei to repent of their crimes against the God Kings, urging their men to desert them if they don't."

"And Aradoch?"

"Still declaring his wholehearted support of the Prophet. He hasn't moved his armies against either you or his siblings yet, but he's sent people to stir up the villages lying nearby. It's along the same lines as the Prophet, uh, sermons, only it's mostly directed against you."

"Are you sure it's Aradoch?"

"I suppose not. It could be the Prophet's influence. But an uprising against you would play right into Aradoch's hands, and it is the sort of ploy he would make, from what I've heard of him."

She nods. This is true.

"And what are they saying about me? Any new rumors or accusations?"

He blinks, caught off balance. "Ah... no, not that I've heard. I'm sure you don't want to hear..."

"I rather think I do. Tell me what they've been saying."

Hesitantly, for it is not a pleasant set of accusations, he describes it for her. It is nothing she hasn't heard before. Her reputation never recovered after she poisoned the wells around the capital and blighted the river, and now she is responsible for nearly every natural misfortune to befall the land since the God Kings, if you believe all the rumors: everything from plagues and crop blights to storms and the growing numbers of wolves and vermin. Of course, some of that is true. The Prophet's account of how she betrayed her father and allowed a demon into the land figures prominently as well, and that is true as well. (At least, the core of it is true. Both she and Garadiel are demonized further every time the tale is told, it seems.) There are other stories which have no roots in truth: that her father knew of her evil and kept her locked up in a tower (she'd escaped after he left), that she is a demon who'd stolen the real Lilike's face, that she seduces men and poison their minds.

But there is nothing about a plague of monsters out of the mountains. She nods as he draws to a close.

"What of Hissai and Ba Lutei? Have they moved?"

"No, my lady. They may be negotiating with Aradoch—"

She cuts him off. "They will. Order the captain of the guard to draft as many farmers and city boys as he can in the next day or two and prepare to march."

He blinks, again surprised, but after a moment he folds his arms and bows. "As you wish, my Lady."

And that is that; no protest, despite the fact that the orders must have seemed nonsensical to him. She'd survived this far in the war by pretending neutrality; declaring herself a combatant by attacking the only pair that might still ally with her—with a force far inferior to theirs—is much like challenging a rockslide to a wrestling match. Perhaps he merely fears her too much to protest, but she suspects he has other reasons to allow her to dig her own grave. Like most of those in her employ, he is loyal to himself, not to her. The men and women who gave their loyalty to another gave it to Ba Shaan, and all of them are dead are gone, leaving her with the dregs: the dull, the selfish, and the apathetic. She'd learned to make do.

Maybe Valsier is merely giving up on her, turning his mind to a way to survive her downfall; maybe he was already plotting against her. It doesn't matter one way or the other. The city smells of conspiracy; Valsier's reticence, people falling silent when she passes by in the street, somebody sending word of her movements to the palace. It is like the air before a thunderstorm, or the silence before an avalanche, pregnant with violence yet to come.

In her chambers, Lilike stretches lazily. Rest, that's what she needs. Yes, a few days of isolation would set that stew bubbling nicely...

TheDarkDM

2011-01-02, 10:38 AM

With every beat of the infernal siege engines, a tremor runs through Faolan's heart. They were assaulting his mountain, the seat of his divine power. The rage inspired by those wronged by Sulior now redoubled with Faolan's personal wroth, and as he looked through the clearing mist upon the burning fortress of his people, the flames in his eyes blazed to life. Standing in the blood of slain giants, Faolan's body began to contort once again, the Beast's awesome might rising ever closer to the surface. Staling forward towards the impaled concubine of Sulior, he brought Rognir's Sword down in a swift arc, decapitating the damned witch and freeing his mount from the last strands of her insidious power. Looking up, he cried out to the now-sane dragon.

"The Giants assault MY mountain. Burn them ALL!"

Like an angry storm, Faolan's mount descended upon the battering rams of Sulior's army, engulfing their dread constructs in billowing flames. But even the dragon's flames could not outshine the flames of Faolan's wrath as he ran towards the Giant army. Every step in his stride sent a tremor through the ground, and he struck the rear ranks of Sulior's army like an avalanche. A dozen giants fell to every strike of Rognir's Sword, and the Flames of Vengeance seemed to grow ever more intense as they consumed the life's blood of those they despised.

SULIOR! Come and face me coward! Or must I CARVE my way through your ENTIRE army!?"

As the Giant forces backed off from the angry god, Faolan saw the encroaching dead begin to climb into the populated areas of his city. With a howled syllable drawn from the rapacious race-memory of his father, he drove Rognir's Sword into the stony ground. All through the expansive first tier of the city, cracks appeared through the ground, forming a massive glyph that Faolan should not have known of. Deep beneath the earth, something stirred, digging its way ever closer to the sign of its true name. A tremor went through the mountain, more violent than even the assault of the Giants, as a massive claw burst through the ground, disemboweling a mass of Giants. The Behemoth saw sunlight for the first time since its battle with Aldric, called by the rage of the deity that shared its primal element. The great beast began to tear through the enemies of Faolan, as the god himself began to search for Sulior, carving through any Giant or corpse to get in his way.

This was the scene that Celestan's army of light emerged into, the primal giant of the Behemoth devouring Giants left and right on the surface, Faolan's mount bombarding the corpses and Giants from the air, and blazing on the side of the mountain like a second sun was Faolan, running through the empty sectors of the city searching for the Giant King.

The_Snark

2011-01-04, 05:46 AM

The Far West

The tale of the hunting of the Thousand Terrors is a long one, too long to relate in its entirety here. It left a lasting impression on the people of the uttermost West: for a thousand generations their God Kings had watched over them, and then in the space of a decade they vanished. In their wake came plague, war, and in the end a horde of monsters out of children's tales. Without its shepherd and lord, the night became dark and wild once again.

The story is noteworthy in that it lacks heroes—or rather, it lacks a hero, singular (or a pair, as found in the tales of Ateris and Kylfa-Madur). Of course, there were precious few candidates: the God Kings were dead, and their fractious children proved woefully unequal to the task. (Early versions of the story cast the newly titled steward as the savior of the land, but this practice quickly declined as it became known that she preferred a more modest—and historically accurate—portrayal.) Aradoch is dead by the time the opening stanzas are finished; Hissai perishes not long after, though he at least receives a heroic death. Ba Lutei's march on the capital is the closest the tale has to a central narrative, but it has little impact on the the rest of the story, and there is no climactic confrontation with her foe: she arrives to find the city in riot, the Traitor Queen already dead. The people of the city have done her work for her—which is, indeed, the spirit of the whole story.

It was not a time of lone heroes, but of ordinary folk banding together to face the things in the dark. The Thousand Terrors flocked down out of the western mountains and spread quickly to all corners of the land, and in every corner people took up the sword and the spear to defend their homes. The tale is disjointed in its structure, following first this village as it musters heroic defense after heroic defense, then moving on to the slaying of a particularly deadly beast, and then detailing the deeds of some local hero. In places, the story is nothing more than a recitation of names, immortalizing the men and women who died in the hunt.

The tale is rarely told in full; most of the time, the storyteller recites sections by request. Some sections are more popular than others: the death of Hissai is a perennial favorite, relating how that prince and his men set a trap for the monstrous bull Barabde, and perished alongside it in the ensuing rockfall. Aradoch's death-passage, more often referred to as the Death of the War, is less popular but historically significant; he and many of his men are murdered by a monstrous shadow as they sleep, and the news of his demise effectively ends the war. What man would raise a hand against his fellow human when monsters roamed the land? Each region has its own favorites, often featuring people and places native to the region: Marl the Fisherman and the slaying of the Cloud-Eating Wolf in the port cities, Hoorl and Annama in the villages west of the capital, the defense of Cloudhallow along the northern coast, and so on.

In many places the tale is bitter; the lists of the heroic dead are very long indeed. Yet in the end, mankind stands victorious. The Thousand Terrors are slain, the traitor Lilike's perfidy is exposed, and the War of the Five Princes is at last ended. For the first time in years, the land at the western edge of the world knows peace.

Kasanip

2011-01-04, 08:02 AM

Nari with Celestan and Garadiel

To Celestan, Nari nodded.
"Caer Faol was once my home too. It was a home for those who were refugees from here. And there were some who never returned from there."
She stood up when her guest did too. and as Celestan turned to go, she looked to Garadiel.
"I apologize for the interruption, but my thoughts are the same of lord Celestan."
She turned and raised her closed fan to point to OneClaw and Ya-un-Kurumi who stood at the door.
"Call for volunteers and take them to Caer Faol. I will go with you and quickly."

So it was that there were many of the Shiuk who would honor their old friends, and led by Ya-un-Kurumi. And with OneClaw also came many of the Tengu warriors. And Nari rode with them through the tunnels of the Wolf God to come to the aid of Caer Faol.

Raz_Fox

2011-01-11, 11:47 AM

Caer Faol

As the armies of Celestan and Nari arrive, ready to defend the grim men of the north, they enter into a nightmare. The dead walk, and the giants arrayed before them are stronger and more terrible than any that had preyed in the deserts of the south or the rolling hills of the west. Here, in the sky, is a great black dragon, roaring in rage and fury, and smiting the mountainside with great gouts of flame. Here, on the plain before the city, is the mightiest monster that the world has ever known. And here, carving through the ranks of the infernal army arrayed about the city, screaming in utter bestial hatred, is a god - or, perhaps, a demon terrible and fell.

All three are, perhaps, more dangerous to them than the army of the giants. The Dragon and the Behemoth are ancient and ill-tempered beasts, and neither they nor Faolan seem to understand the concept of "friend vs. foe" now. Everything that stands before them will die.

Now the giants turn to the tunnels, to face the armies of man (and to escape the raging beasts that now assail Caer Faol), and they are filled with a great desperation. Surely, the children of the gods cannot be this powerful?

Faolan

One moment, he stood down at the bottom of Caer Faol, summoning up the Behemoth - now, he stands at its peak. He does not remember how he came there; he is covered in blood from head to heel. Soaked in it, bathed in it, his sword gleaming and immaculate despite the carnage covering him.

There is a trail behind him, all the way up Caer Faol's side, and not all the bodies strewn along it are giants or the dead. Some even wear gray cloaks.

But now - that is irrelevant. Here, at the peak, stands Sulior. He stands taller, now, and his cloak is cast aside. His body is twisted and terrible, like a goat that has tried to ape a man's form. A dark misfortune is about him, an aura of hatred and spite, and he stands before a new spear. It is black, pulsing with a baleful red aura, and every time it beats a sickness overcomes Faolan's heart. It is poisoning the very earth, tainting the sacred mountain of Caer Faol and spreading its venom into the earth that is so deeply tied to Faolan.

"You know nothing. What do you carry, son of Rognir? You carry the sword made perfection. A sword must kill, a sword must destroy; it is not a spear, or an axe, nor a bow. A sword is death. You carry the sword made perfection, and it drives you now. Your will is barren, your soul is made hollow.

Come then, strike, and slice the world atwain. That is the only end. Only death will satisfy the perfect sword."

Jair Barik

2011-01-11, 12:10 PM

Running upon all fours they came, the red wolf at the front of the pack as they surged from the forests towards the battlefield. They had no order, no sense of self preservation. They were driven on by only one desire, to please their lord, to satisfy his battle lust and his endless hunger.

He had waited for this moment for so long. He had made a promise long ago to the goddess of war. Not for self improvement or out of fear to the goddess, but by respect for what she stood for. The call had never gone out and so now could never be answered. But even after her death the word of the wolf remained. And so he spurred his kin on to battle, on towards almost certain death. The Goddess may be dead but her people lived on and were in danger. Besides, he was no God, he was a monster. A monsters belong where the battle is...

TheDarkDM

2011-01-16, 08:34 PM

Faolan and Sulior

Faolan did not see the trail of bodies he left behind him. He did not feel the slick blood covering him, or hear the screams of the dying. All he felt was the rumbling curses of Sulior coursing through his mountain. With every pulse, his veins visibly blackened, but it seemed only to enrage the Vengeance God further. Faolan leveled his blade at Sulior, and as he did so the Flames of Vengeance strained against the steel like chained wolves, desperate to tear the throat of the Giant King. The flames were so desperate they ignited the blood bathing Faolan, until the flames wreathed him as fur.

Fool! I have weathered the curses of Kylfa-Madur, and you think to stop me with your little magics? I will slay you here, and then I shall bind the sword to my will just as I have bound my own rage for centuries. And when you are dead, I shall descend upon your army like a second sun!

The mountain around them began to rumble, and the pulsing flame of Sulior's spear began to run back into his hands, pushed out by the divine energy of the mountain's father. With a primal roar, Faolan charged the Giant King, his footsteps causing more tremors to run through the mountain, the arc of his sword burning the very air itself.

White Blade

2011-01-24, 03:50 PM

Garadiel set his tea cup down, completely empty and rose slowly from his seat at Nari's residence. He smiled a thin smile, the warrior's smile that all children of Rognir could wear when battle was upon them. He strode outward, through the door of Nari's residence and walked onward, his strides taking him over vistas like a giant's strides over anthills. And then he stood at the lands of Caer Faol, the wild dragon above in the air and the Behemoth raging on the ground. The dragon, though, he remembered from the isle. So his rage burned, had it deceived him? Well, he supposed, he might as well find out.

Garadiel rushed up into the air at the wild beast's senseless rage and whipping cords of aether spread out from his hands, lashing around the dragon's legs and wings, wrapping them and crushing them, dragging the beast closer and closer to him. As it struggled vainly to escape, he approached it closer, his short frame exaggerated against the Dragon's massive, writhing form.

Oath-Breaker, he cried, the swift, terrible truth of the Dragon's betrayal clear. Where is the blade? he cried, demanding the information with the voice of Rognir's voice at its mightiest.

Kaiser Omnik

2011-01-24, 07:29 PM

"Child of Rognir!"

The roar came from behind Faolan and Sulior. Celestan now stood atop Caer Faol; a circle of white flames emanated from him, pushing back the corruption of the Giant King a bit at a time, slowly invigorating the earth. He frowned, sensing that his cousin was being consumed by vengeance entirely.

"Watch yourself, cousin! You walk a fine line, but your heart has always been virtuous, Faolan! Look at that beast before you; don't become It! Let your family help."

Despite him being crippled, Celestan's presence is much more powerful than it has ever been, radiating brotherly love and hope for all, be they mortals or gods. But most importantly, he brings up the best in people; those in his vicinity first and foremost feel their own power to love and and their own potential for greatness rising to the surface.

ArlEammon

2011-01-25, 10:08 AM

Endgame

Shen Zhi Shu watched over the chariot race with great anticipation from his judge's seat. Chu Wan and Ci Ci had been friendly rivals for ten years. It seemed as if chariot victories had been equal between them for their entire career. Shen Zhi Shu had betted on Chu Wan. . Chu Wan had been heavily involved in practice, just as Ci Ci. . but there was just something about Chu Wan .. . he had that drive and determination that Shen Zhi had though eclipsed even Ci Ci's. . . Finally Shen Zhi Shu saw the winner. He was right, Chu Wan had managed to make the goal before Ci Ci. Only Shen Zhi could tell the difference between Ci Ci and Chu Wan's distance as they crossed the mark.

Shen Zhi Shu remembered to give all of his winnings to the poor of Zhang Guo, throughout the city states. Suddenly, Chei/Himiko came running up to Shen Zhi Shu. . ."Zhi . . ." Chei spoke. . . "The Soul Crystal spoke to me. . . Alrodores is coming. . . " Shen Zhi Shu's eyes brightened with anticipation at Chei's alarm. "Quiet, Chei . . .We need to get back to the Great Shrine. "

Notes: While Zhang has been at war with the Rock-Skinned Giants, the capital has remained untouched. Refugees benefit from Xiang Jian's funding.

Raz_Fox

2011-01-25, 03:29 PM

Garadiel and the Dragon

By some stroke of fate, the scene that plays out before the broken gates of Caer Faol has been played before, in the days before sun and moon. Here lies the mighty dragon, the greatest fire-drake that the world has ever yet known, bound by the unbreakable cords of heaven.

"I speak truth," it bellows, bile flecking its teeth and acidic spittle dripping from its steaming, snake-like tongue. "He who tamed me bears now the blade of gods. Upon the world's peak he stands, and drives me to his foes. Strike me not, but swear vengeance upon the wielder."

For you see, the heart of a dragon is deceitful and cruel, and none so much as the mighty wyrm of the isle. To see Faolan dead at the hands of Garadiel would be its greatest dream.

The World's Peak

STRIKE.

There is a flash of light, and an answering flash of darkness, and the very sound of Celestan's words is ripped asunder by the meeting of the Giant's Spear and the Sword of Swords.

Now Faolan stands before Celestan, every breath a hoarse rattle, the sword held low by his thigh. Sulior's body, sliced clean through, crumbles into ash. It falls upon the earth, and the earth greedily consumes it.

The mountain shakes, and the black blood of Sulior runs through it. Only the peak upon which they stand remains uncorrupted, proof of the healing presence of Celestan.

And Caer Faol collapses. Slowly, groaning in pain and anguish, the mountain shatters and cracks, crumbling away, its heart poisoned by the evil of Sulior. Walls collapse, terraces slide away, and the mountain's sides fall upon the plain in a thousand pieces, upon the armies arrayed upon the field. The earth belches up infernal fires, great ruptures in the earth ripping apart the ground for miles upon miles. And the sound, ah, the sound! Like the beating of ten million drums, the cacophony of twenty thousand horns, the wails of grief from countless widows, the mountain of Faolan comes undone.

Jair Barik

2011-01-25, 03:51 PM

The natural world is, by its own inherant nature, slow to anger and quick to forgive. Elements of it are wild and untamed, barbaric even. But by that same nature it has untold beauty and serenity within its miriad mountains, lakes and forests. The first light of day creeping over the horizon and the last light fading as night approached. Yes much of the natural world is a being of peace, but though slow to anger that did not mean it was impossible to anger. And so it came to be that as that part of the world succumbed to poison and fell asunder all masks, all false names and differences fell with it leaving only the truth of nature. He was Nara, Nara the hunter, Nara the Lord of trees, Nara of the crimson pelt, he who mourns and he who took the gift of nature to be a curse and in doing so split his soul in two. No more hiding, no more lies to his brothers and to himself. Taking the mask of a dead God in one hand he crushed it to dust, no more would he need it. He was who he was and no foolish relic could hide that from his master. As Orgo he had been half right. He was not truly God of nature, for no one being could hope to encompass the bountious wonders and variety that portfolio implied. He was not its God, more he was its caretaker, its custodian.

Reaching into the folds of his cloaks he draw forth his two weapons, an axe with no head and a book with no words. The axe's head lay long in a forgotten glade, perhaps it was the oldest axe, perhaps not, but on that head was written words of love, words from a man to the woman he would have given his Godhood to live with, the woman who he had in his own blindness killed. The book was written in symbols, a language long forgotten, a language of hatred and darkness, copied in the bitter north from a place tha no longer existed. With darkness in his left hand and light in his right he followed the destruction to its point of origin with a sense of perfect clarity in what he must do. He would find his son, and he would attempt to put a stop to whatever madness he had unleashed upon the mountain once and for all. He may well die, in part he expected it as the inevitable, but the world was aching and he felt it was his duty to help it.
Besides... Who really wants to live forever?
The voice whispered in the back of his mind and Nara smiled.
Who indeed.... who indeed.........

White Blade

2011-01-25, 11:40 PM

There is a pause as Garadiel thinks and then he flicks his wrist, causing the cords of Aether to break and wrap around the dragon's feet like shackles,I lay a new geas on you, beneath the sight of the World Tree, you shall guard the Center of the World from the south on the day the sky burns. And then you shall fight every host that marches under any banner, save those of my father's blood and their servants. If you live, you will have earned your place in our host. If you fail to attempt it, these shackles shall bind you to the earth until the ones you have betrayed call for your blood and destroy you. If you die, you shall be remembered. This geas I lay upon you. he waves the Dragon away as the mountain crumbles saying, I shall tend to the Sword. And there is the most terrible sound in creation, just beneath the silent man's thunderous words, the feeling of true, terrible ending. Not sleep or rest, just bleak oblivion forever. And it touches the word of the sword in the dragon's heart as well and strikes terror into it's ancient heart.

Garadiel flies away from the dragon and towards the place which the mountain tip so recently occupied before the great bellows of smoke, called by the touch of his nephew's fire (clearly not the bearer of the blade) and a feeling that was almost certainly the Wolf-Beast he had been choked by all those years ago. He is flying high above the earth and he feels it beneath him, an old feeling, a familiar feeling. Nara. Orgo. Something else completely, probably. And he flies down near where he feels Nara's energy and smiles saying, Want a ride? He offers, the chance to fly swiftly to the center of the chaos where he is clearly heading. To the mountain's peak. Nara can see that he is still looking for his exact location through the hell-smoke.

Kaiser Omnik

2011-01-26, 12:24 AM

Celestan's light dimmed tremendously, his flames almost extinguished. Between the agony of the poisoned mountain and the echoes of men and women crushed under tons rock, the god's empathic sense overwhelmed his whole Self. He felt intense pain running through his body. Celestan clenched his fist to his breast and fell to his knees.

"Faolan...I...need you...Show me your...hope."

TheDarkDM

2011-01-26, 02:10 AM

For a moment, Faolan stood as though paralyzed, borne aloft by the Flames of Vengeance and Celestan's own blazing presence. Staring down at the devastation, the flames surrounding him dimmed, until they were but flickering embers. Then, as though naught but a breeze, the screams began to rise from the ashes of Caer Faol. Hundreds of thousands of voices raised in terror and agony, the last breaths of Faolan's people preserved in the dimming light of their god. They rose from a whisper to a maelstrom in seconds, and as they reached Faolan's ears he threw back his head and howled. The Flames of Vengeance exploded to new life, and even far above the earth Faolan's rage caused the gound to tremble and shake. Miles away, the Barrier Peaks exploded into volcanic activity at the anguish of their creator, and the very sky seemed to ignite with the crimson light. The scream echoed through every corner of the world, even reaching to the Uttermost West where its force shattered glass and sent children tumbling into the dirt. It seemed as though the howl would never stop, like it would overwhelm even the terrible pounding upon the vault of creation, but just as suddenly as it began the cry died.

Turning to Celestan, tears of blood and blacker things streamed down Faolan's cheeks, and his raspy whisper arced through the air like lightning.

"There is no hope Celestan. My people lie murdered in the corpse of the city that was my charge. Now, all I have - all I desire - is Vengeance."

Pointing down towards the Giant host assembled around his mountain with the Sword, Faolan conjured the Flames. Without a word, a bolt of fire flew from the blade, exploding among the giants with the force of an earthquake. Moving the Sword, Faolan dragged the tornado of flames among the Giants' number, slaying hundreds in moments. With a look of cold concentration on his face, he descended like a comet. The impact of his feet exploding among the holocaust in a ripple of earth and stone, but by the time the earth settled he was already in motion. With a mounting speed, he flowed around the remaining Giants like a fell wind, his blade cleaving their souls from their bodies with no effort.

Kasanip

2011-01-26, 09:34 AM

Nari - Revolution of a World Turning and Turning Music (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FT_RO_ap8BE)

Standing before the edge of the flames and amidst the cries and wailing of the people of the land, Nari stood as the fires and misery reflected in her eyes from the mountain before her. Behind her were the armies of the people of Toukoku, those who had ridden and come far: those who had once been here, and who had returned to save those whom had care for them before.

Here, on this land, stood a young princess who had been burned by war, and healed by flame, and now she faced the same tragedy of a people whose destiny had spun rashly about as a wheel casting off it's trapping in the morning.
Her hair and dress fluttered in the wind, as if it was carried upon a wind of misery and crying voices to the sky. In her eyes she had tears, for Nari had been that princess who was here, and who had been born in the fires of war, and now returned to it again.

Behind her, the people of Toukoku and the Shiuk stood. Here they were witnesses to the cycle of war and suffering that had returned to them again.

And here now, Hate. Vengeance that spoke through it's actions the evil of itself.

Nari pointed forward with her fan in a wordless gesture. It was a gesture like a General who sent forth a command, or like a Queen who issued an order. And for a moment it seemed like it was not Nari who stood there, but someone else. and yet in that moment there was only the feeling of grief among the giants, the humans, all those who were there, and even maybe to the gods and the goddess who also were trapped in this endless cyclical moment. Anyone who looked upon Nari could not help but feel this feeling of hurt. For a world where Gods and Humans walked together, there was no need for a word, because in this tragic moment their hearts were the same.

There was no difference between the Goddess who called out, and to the people of Toukoku who rode forward heedless of any danger into the battle. Their heroism was already legend, and now they reached higher as they strove against all the darkness and evil before them. Here they were striving with only one united purpose- a purpose not to fight, but to save all those that they could.
And from the sky there was Faolan, and the earth fell away from him, as thunder sounded in a battle again, for the first time in a long time, with lightning - the two companions. The giants fell away as harvest...

...And Nari was then there before Faolan, a look of determination and at the same time desperation as she blocked his path.

In her expression as she put her hand upon his sword arm, her words were clear even without being said.

The Sword that Faolan held was so close, and yet he seemed so far.
A world of steel that drew such a boundary to separate them so far, and so split the world in two.

Kaiser Omnik

2011-01-26, 10:00 AM

As the remnants of Caer Faol's peek collapsed all around him, Celestan, devastated and powerless, sent out a weak message to his other siblings - a very simple, yet horrible and desperate message.

"I fear the Faolan we knew...is gone."

---

As the people of Nari charged forward, the leader of the Stormseekers shouted to his men:

"Will we let the horse-riders have all the glory?! What are you waiting for, get in the action! We stand as One!"

And there they came: the roc riders, the blade masters and the healers in cardinal cloaks - every one of them sheated in a bright and warm aura. They followed the lead of the westerners and swiftly entered the fray, to save all those they could.
Inspired with greatness by the Goddess, but first and foremost the example of their heroic brethren... above all else, the beautiful display of the Burning Spirit of Humanity!

Nothing can stop Humanity now!
They use their first ever MAJOR ACT to save the greatest number of northerners!

Yes, I went there!

White Blade

2011-01-26, 10:14 AM

Garadiel's heart near as stopped when he heard Celestan's frail message. No. He cannot die. Celestan cannot die. A whirlwind of aether spills out beneath him and he is hurled forward, faster than any has moved in some great time. The whirlwind solidifies as a path for Nara to follow, if he should care to, but Garadiel's mind is only one place at the moment.

He lands next to Celestan, his brave nephew and wraps his arms around him, eyes letting off tears faster than the heaviest of rains, NO! Don't die Celestan, you can't die... He says, desperate, pleading, begging. There is so much pain in the old man's words, it is hard to express. Please, please... He begs Celestan, every inch of him praying not to lose another of his family again. It has been so LONG since Celestan's mother went to guard the world, so long that he has lived alone. Were it not for the aching memory of Raia's smile, he should have perished from despair long ago. He won't lose his nephew now, not now, as this world dies. His touch seeps with life and his tears dot the earth.

Kaiser Omnik

2011-01-26, 11:36 AM

Music (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GopzpFJm4LQ&feature=related)

NO! Don't die Celestan, you can't die...

Don't die...
You can't die...
You can't die?

Can't I?

No... Please, please...

Why not. It's time for an ending. Isn't it?

You can't die.

I hear...a stream? So peaceful. It's always there to remind me why I fight. My Fire is Passion, but this is more...it's the soothing promise of Life.

Can't...die? Maybe... Certainly!

Can't! Not now! There is still hope. The paradise we seek. A world of love, friendship and family. Of freedom and equity. Is not lost! Our ability to feel for others...heck, the fact that we still feel at all as opposed to turning into heartless abominations is the proof of that! That paradise... As long as it exists in our heart, in all our hearts, even as a hazy dream, as a very improbable possibility... It defines us. Even the Beast of Madness that Faolan seems to have become. Even It ultimately seeks liberation. It means we are ALIVE!

Promise me... Yes. I will not leave them. I will help my cousin wake up from his nightmare, before he dooms himself and the world.*

---

The tears of Garadiel. Nari's stand against all odds. The neverending struggle of the Shiuk, of Toukoku's people, of the Stormseekers, and of all mortals. All these together pulled Celestan out of the abyss that threatened to devour the Fire God's soul and spirit. And soon, a great burst of searing white light scattered the darkness around the remains of Caer Faol's peak.

"Thank you uncle. Nari. Everyone."

The earth shook violently as Celestan, the Everbright Lord, he who was Everyman, the Holder of the World's Aspirations and Dreams, landed behind Faolan like a meteor. His blazing hair and worn cloak flowing in the wind; wisps of white flame dancing all around him, and forming together the shape of a firebird. He smiled at Nari, then turned his head toward the Beast, defiant and strong.

"A spirit of vengeance - a darkness in his heart - turning my dear cousin into a mere weapon for hate, like this stupid sword of Rognir's? I DON'T THINK SO! Neither I, nor Nari, nor any of your family for that matter, will let that happen! TOGETHER WE WILL PIERCE THE VEIL OF MADNESS AND DESPAIR! THE FIRE OF OUR SOULS WILL ILLUMINATE THE HEAVENS!"

*OOC: The first part is all in Celestan's head, including non-italic "speech".

TheDarkDM

2011-01-27, 06:32 PM

Music (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fXRJBK8oJSA)

The battlefield was ablaze. In Faolan's passing, blood burst into crimson steam, limbs flew through the air, and the crackling of burning flesh and shattered bones filled the air. A litany of screams railed against the Vengeance god, but he was unmoved. In the distance, the fiery eruptions of the Barrier Peaks continued, spewing ash and fire into the skies, until it appeared as though Alrodores had come at last. Before this new terror, the Giant host flew towards the lines of human warriors arrived from the earth, heedless of the steel bared against them. For their king was dead, and in his passing he had unleashed a demon on them such as the world had never seen before.

Faolan's mind was in turmoil. Fragments of consciousness and thought were tossed about in a maelstrom of confusion, grief, and overwhelming rage. The poisonous whispers of the Blade only added fuel to the fire, its vile urgings as sweet as fine wine to the Beast within Faolan. But not even the Beast could control the inferno that had been conjured in the fall of Caer Faol. Vengeance was in control now, pure, uncaring Vengeance. The combined voices of centuries of death and betrayal and grief sang of death and fire within Faolan's head, and in his sight he could discern little but the next beating heart, the flickering candle of suffering and guilt that he had to snuff out. In a single swipe, the Flames leapt from his body to consume entire swathes of land, indiscriminately consuming all they touched. Once-verdant lands had become blackened and hellish, and as the sky burned the corpse of Caer Faol looked above all.

Then Nari appeared before Faolan, and her shining presence caused him to freeze. To his eyes, she was less goddess and more a shining void, a presence empty of wrongdoing or malice. At her touch, the Flames of Vengeance flickered and died, and the black blood coursing through Faolan's veins became red and pure. He blinked, and for a moment the fires faded from his eyes and she could see Faola, the true Faolan, struggling against the forces unleashed within himself. But then...then Faolan disappeared. The eyes of the demon narrowed, as the wraiths within it peered deeper into Nari, into her very essence, and saw the traces left upon her by Raia. In the touch of the War goddess they found the purchase they needed, and Faolan's muscles tensed again. Slowly, he reached out to Nari, and in a flash his hand was around her neck. With every beat of her heart, Faolan shuddered, and as he slowly closed his fist Nari began to struggle for breath. Lifting her into the air, Faolan spoke in a voice that was a million voices, the legions of the wronged and the vengeful speaking through him.

"The guilty shall fall before us! None shall stop the reckoning that is to come, least of all you, shadow of war. Now, you shall die, and in so doing purify the crimes of you forebear."

The Flames around Nari's hand flickered back to life, clawing against her divine flesh, seeking fresh sustenance. It was then that Celestan erupted onto the battlefield, his purifying flame vying with the Flames of Vengeance. Shocked, Faolan released Nari, and as she fell from his grasp he turned to shield his eyes. At Celestan's speech, he took a step back as though struck, and for a moment the Flames dimmed once again. Staring into the crucible of hope, the demon voice cut through even the inferno around them.

"We will not be silenced, God of Lies! What hope can you offer but the illusion of self determination, of goodness? All beings are corrupt, all beings are weak. Not even you can escape the touch of our wroth!"

Faolan raised his Blade, preparing to strike down his cousin and end the struggle of fires around them. Down came the killing blow, a blow that promised to cleave Celestan in twain. The ethereal voices raised a howl in anticipation of the kill, until one voice cut through the cacophony.

"Father, stop!"

There, from nowhere, was Eithne, standing with arms wide before Celestan. Her clothes were stained with her own blood, a deep gash running down one side of her face. Her knees shook at the effort it took to stand against the Perfect Sword, but in her violet eyes Faolan saw the promise and the hope he had abandoned. The Blade stopped a hairs breadth from Eithne's neck, and Faolan's sword arm began to quiver. Deep behind his eyes, Faolan had found a single point to rally towards, the memory of a young girl, alone in the snow. He took her in his arms and led her and the rest of her orphaned friends to a new life. There had been so much pain since, so much suffering and loss, but that memory now blazed strong in the light of Celestan, cutting through the rage and grief that had seized Faolan.

"Eithne..."

But then came the voice of the Blade, so seductive and terrible in its urgings. Flashes of memories not his own assaulted Faolan's consciousness, capricious and false images of Eithne as betrayer, of Eithne as foe, but even Rognir's perfect Sword could not shatter the bulwark of Faolan's love. His hand shaking, Faolan began to pull the Blade away from Eithne, and the Flames of Vengeance grew ever dimmer as he did. Around the assembled gods, the voices of the unquiet dead could finally be heard, screaming their protests, urging a continuation of the slaughter. Faolan peered deep into Eithne's eyes, and as his own wolf's eyes emerged from the flames of madness the Sword slipped from his hand. Faolan collapsed to his knees, embracing Eithne as a low cry escaped his lips. Tears began to flow down his blood-stained face, true tears uncorrupted by the Sword or the Beast or the legions of vengeful dead. The last vestiges of the Flames of Vengeance burnt away, and as they did Faolan's body returned to normal, to the tall, proud hunter of memory.

"I am so sorry..."

White Blade

2011-01-28, 05:38 PM

Garadiel descends swiftly into the the scene, his skin set with broad swathes of aether as a jury-rigged defense measure (though he does not expect them to be effective against the blade of Rognir.). His hand snags and grabs the sword, too fast for any of his kindred to stop him, and then floats aloft, staring at it, glaring at it... It is... light. And fit. And perfect. The ultimate blade, to destroy all the Eternal Dreamer's Hosts. And even Garadiel, who knows it will destroy the world, covets it. But then he shakes his head and remembers the picture of the World Tree falling and the figure laughing on it's stump. No. Nothing is worth THAT nightmare.

He looks down at his niece and nephews and speaks slowly, as softly as he can, We must destroy the sword, he says simply. When he says sword, Celestan, Nari, Faolan, and Eithne hear the death of all creation and all hope. Destroy, however, is less concrete, the blade must be undone. It must be broken. It must be unraveled, removed to the point where it simply is no more. Must is more moral impetus than anything. We, however, is everyone. It is infinitely inclusive.

He sends aether up the blade and tries to grind and crush it, but it does no good. The thing is invincible. So, he thinks for another moment and comes up with his suggestion, We can use it in an act of creation, as a seed, I think. But it must be a complete transformation. It must go from destroyer to healer, from death to life. From death-taking to life-giving. Thoughts? he says, hovering, holding the blade gingerly in one hand.

Kasanip

2011-01-30, 02:02 AM

Nari

Nari recovered from the grip of Faolan as she took a few deep breaths to settle herself. She saw him and Eithne. She saw Celestan who had saved her again, and she saw Garadiel, who now held the sword.

What could she do here?
the destruction below that was brought so easily by the weapon. Surely it must be removed and quickly. But how?

And would that change anything? Would there still be war in the future even if the sword was destroyed?

It was a weapon of war, and so it was cursed like it. No it could not become a blessing like this.

But weren't they gods? If they couldn't do something, then who would?

She thought this and wondered where the sword had been for so long. It was a weapon of the gods, but it was a weapon that threatened everyone- like Garadiel had said.

So it must be a decision made from it would require all of those who lived to have their part.

"It is a weapon. It will always be that way. But what is the realization of the weapon? And for what purpose does it strike?
Let it become not a weapon that kills. But a weapon that guides a heart to hope. Let it become an idea and a dream. An invincible dream of hope and good for everyone. And with such a dream in all of us then, it will harm none, and yet never fail when it is needed."

Kaiser Omnik

2011-01-30, 09:08 AM

Celestan laid his hands on Eithne and Faolan; physical wounds closed and emotional scars were mended by the warm embrace of love and hope. Then the Fire God joined his uncle and former mentor, and he found himself repulsed by the Sword even if he couldn't actually see it. While not naive to the point of renouncing all violence, Celestan has always been a pacifist at heart; and this Sword, as a thing which is literally Killing made perfection, is anathema to him. But just as Garadiel cannot banish the cursed blade, Celestan is no more able to melt it with his purest flames. His family is right; another course of action must be taken.

"Nari, I couldn't have said it better! If this Sword is indeed the essence of perfection, than our combined will should be able to turn it to a good use. What is a tool but the extension of the will of its user? It shouldn't be the other way around. In Rognir's time it might have seemed necessary to forge such a weapon, but the dream of our time is vastly different! From destruction can grow new life, and that's what we will do.

We cannot hope to slay Those Who Wait Beyond using this sword without endangering the whole of Creation. Then, let's fight the hordes outside in our own way. There isn't a poison more deadly to them then the hopes and affection of the Tree's Children for their world. If we know oneselves, the Dreamers won't be able to deny us our identity. But this is not enough. We need to put everything in this work. We need not only will it, but also gather the aspirations of all of Mortalkind, past and present. I call to the living memories of the World, to imbue the Sword with the history of our people's struggles for freedom, and the loving sacrifice of generations past. And let my words echo through the Adamah Tapestry: we, Gods, wish to make a new pact with Humanity, as friends. Share your strength with us, and we shall be make a new tool that benefits all of us, that reflects the diversity of this World...and its protectors!"

Inspired by Celestan, mortals in the vicinity came and assembled all around the God of Fire and his family. There is no distinction between them at that moment. No nobles and no peasants. No generals and no soldiers. No southerners and northerners. Even giants who were still fighting like enraged animals a minute ago let go all their hatred for humans in the soothing light of Celestan.
Now, there are only Children of the World Tree.

OOC: Celestan spends a ceremony to reforge the Sword.
Humanity also spends a ceremony to send its hopes to imbue the weapon.

ArlEammon

2011-01-31, 01:44 PM

Shen Zhi Shu And Family
Shen Zhi Shu's face appears, coalescing it'self in the sky in the form of bright, green soul fire. "It is a pleasure to finally be with the family again, even if only by proxy." He said seriously, looking out over the assembled Celestan, Faolan, Garadiel and Nari. The soul-fire face winked at Celestan,"Thanks again for the healing powers, Celestan." Shen Zhi Shu wondered at the various moments that were afflicting the world during Alrodores. "I bring a somewhat obvious warning, my family, but it still bears speaking, lest there be any doubt. Alrodores is upon us." Shen Zhi Shu then gives another warning, before anyone could speak over him.

"All of you, I suggest that you not exhaust yourselves in the Ceremony Of The Sword."

Kaiser Omnik

2011-01-31, 01:51 PM

ArlEammon

2011-01-31, 01:59 PM

Celestan smiled.

"Tell me about it, uncle! Sulior is dead and the destruction of the Tree by the Sword has been adverted. We all feel that the final battle is nearly upon us, I think.

I believe the reforging of the Sword is an important step, not only for the preservation of the world, but also to conclude a new pact with the mortal races. Today, all of the Tree's children dream as One.
But please, tell us what you are suggesting?"

"First of all" Shen Zhi Shu began. "I have discovered a way to channel the God's energy. I will need some help in making the Channel of energy strong. That's all. I do not suggest that you neglect the Sword of Pan-Lung, however."

"I cannot be with you in the final battle." Shen Zhi Shu regretfully mentions. "I can only be of use to you from afar. That is why I could not be with you all during the battle with Sulior. . . I have touched the Beyond, and I can say no more." Shen Zhi Shu waited Celestan and the other's response. "I am deeply sorry that I could not be with you or the family more. I wish that I could have settled the dispute of the Sacred Flame of Himiko with Garadiel. I wish I could have sung with beautiful Nari, and I wish I could drunk with Faolan." Shen Zhi Shu joked. "Now, however, I feel as if I am unworthy of the final battle. No matter, I cannot join you for reasons that must be Unspoken."

Kaiser Omnik

2011-01-31, 02:07 PM

ArlEammon

2011-01-31, 02:15 PM

Celestan turned in the direction of Shen's voice, and pointed the cloth covering his dead eyes.

"I understand. We all have our own destiny to fulfill, our own personal sacrifices to make! The Beyond, huh? We'll, you've always been interested in that esoteric knowledge I never quite understood...and which I'm sure I would still not comprehend today if you tried to explain to me. I don't need to know, anyway. The important thing is that you are supporting us, even from afar. Wherever you go, the impact you made on the lives of the Zanghese is so great that your wisdom will always be celebrated here, in this world, and will continue to inspire mortals for many more generations. Your family will miss you...but hey, what am I saying? Who says it's the last time we talk? Never say never!

You can count on me, Shen. It will be my pleasure to share my strength with you, too, in order to create that channel."

"Very well then. I am afraid there is no time to forge the Channel of Pan-Lung now. But it may be soon. The Channel is only a last-resort." Shen Zhi Shu turns to the others. . . . and smiles. . .

Spends 7 minor acts to create The Lantern Of Soul Fire. . . To be passed between the family members. "This Lantern will grant whoever wields it the power to command Soul Fire. It can be used for serious purposes, such as combat, but it can also be used to gain knowledge. Look into the Lantern to learn even more of the inner things about yourself, before the final battle. (OOC: Whoever uses it can temporarily use a buff related to their godhood for themselves.)

Kasanip

2011-02-03, 09:12 AM

Nari

Nari looked up into the sky with awe. Certainly today was the surprises and meetings of many. Her family... Why Nari had become a goddess still was an uncertainty to her. It was a troubling thought that she tried not to listen to. Ever since she had been a child, she had kept in her hands the lamp of Celestan. And in it's light she had grown to beauty and nobility. She had once prayed to Lord Celestan, and he had guided her gently down her journey, and had sparked the fire in her that had long been only a small candle.

And at last now, here she was among Garadiel, Faolan, Celestan, and Shen Zhi Shu. And it was a warm feeling and surrounding she hadn't known before. Maybe it was just Celestan.

Now though, Shen had given to them a new lamp. A lamp for the Gods themselves. And it would give knowledge maybe that she desired. And she did very much want to know the answers to her questions.

But first they had something important to do. Instead, she smiled radiantly up at the sky.
"Thank you Shen Zhi Shu. May this light burn in your heart as it does in ours too."

Resolved of spirit, her worries of the sword were away for now. And she looked at the others again earnestly.

"I too am ready to do what we must with the sword. But I fear that I cannot touch it. I don't know why, but this sword could only bring misfortune and sorrow if I am to hold it. I can tell this much."

Acts

Nari uses a ceremony to help the others with changing Rognir's sword.

I don't know how many acts it is now. It has been a long time since they were received I think.

ArlEammon

2011-02-03, 12:31 PM

Nari
Now though, Shen had given to them a new lamp. A lamp for the Gods themselves. And it would give knowledge maybe that she desired. And she did very much want to know the answers to her questions.

But first they had something important to do. Instead, she smiled radiantly up at the sky.
"Thank you Shen Zhi Shu. May this light burn in your heart as it does in ours too."

Resolved of spirit, her worries of the sword were away for now. And she looked at the others again earnestly.

I don't know how many acts it is now. It has been a long time since they were received I think.
[/spoiler]

"I too, must help with the Sword of Pan-Lung." Shen Zhi Shu commented. "There isn't much else I can do now."

1 Ceremony spent for the Sword

White Blade

2011-02-03, 09:35 PM

Garadiel bows deep at the efforts of his family and he rests his hand on the grip of the blade, flooding it with something that shines bright as the sun and white as the stars. And it touches, turning, burning, shaking the ancient blade. He is invoking now the ancient words, which predate every world but one, they come swift but, like the words of an angelic host going out to war. They are plain and telling, deep and shifting, immortal and eternal enough to break all things.

It is a true tale, though not a whole tale, it is like seeing some vast canvas, painting a tale, or hearing a song, the notes which deliver the heart of the song. A tale of a blade that was carried by a warrior, a tale of a blade that was carried by a man and a king, a tale of sacrifice and betrayal, of heroism and deepest woe. And then the blade grows paler and darker still, wicked and black against the canvas of forever. It seeks to swallow and gnaw, like a dragon trying to swallow the world. Its hunger is almost everything, it is destroyer. It is war's blackest face, war that destroys and devours and leaves nothing good behind it. It is cast away but it is not destroyed. Lost and oh-so-nearly forgotten. But then things turn, it falls into the hand of a hero. But it gnaws at the hero as well as at his world, and woe comes again. For an instance a prophet hefts it, and declares its transformation.

An instrument of war, it shall become a tool for peace. Never again shall it taste blood or life, nor shall it take life, but defend it. It shall be a fortress. It shall take its form to protect, and those who walk roads for destruction will be carried to it. There they shall learn their folly and perceive their ruin, breaking against the mighty barrier of the gods!

And then he slams the blade to the earth and it trembles and the metal begins to shift and creak, changed by the gods to something new and better. Rognir's darkest legacy, turned back by his brightest. The thing that had destroyed the first born undone by the last of Rognri's brood.

1 Ceremony to transform the sword.

TheDarkDM

2011-02-05, 09:16 AM

Seeing the rest of his family united in this common goal, Faolan wearily stood once again. Leaning upon Eithne, he placed his free hand upon the pommel of the Sword as Garadiel thrust it into the ground.

"Let this be the end of it then. Let us rid ourselves of the madness of our forefather, of the terror of the old world, and of the shallow conflicts that have divided us. We stand now, not as individual gods, but as the children of Rognir, united to save the world from devastation. So shall it be. So shall we stop this cycle of destruction! SO SHALL WE SPIT IN THE EYE OF THE ONCE AGAIN KING!"

Faolan joined his energies to those of his brethren, and as he did so he felt the heavy pommel of the Sword melt away from his grasp. As the assembled gods watched, the blade dissolved into a pool of deepest black, the pure ore of Rognir's craft robbed of form and function. Yet, as the energies of Rognir's children began to reforge his Sword, a shade rose from the seething metal. It bore Rognir's countenance, yet it was at once younger and more terrible than the being they'd known. For this was the spirit of the Sword, imbued for millenia with the sole purpose of slaying Rognir's foes, poisoning every fiber of the Sword. Soundlessly, it screeched out against the children of its maker, and from its shadowed palm grew a twin to its true form. Raising up its arm, the specter moved to cut down Nari, most insulting to it for her purity.

As the other gods stared in shock, their power swirling about them, a jolt seemed to go through Faolan. His eyes clear, and his pain seemingly forgotten, he interposed himself between the specter of murder and his young cousin. Reaching out to grab the figure's wrist, they began to wrestle over the pool of the Sword. Sneering at the Vengeance God, the specter spoke in a voice that was at once Rognir's and the Once Again King's, its madness fueled by the closeness of Alrodores.

"Fool god, do you think you can stop me? I conquered you before, and I shall do so again!"

The specter pushed against Faolan, forcing him to his knees. The burning eyes of the specter glowed in triumph, but as it pulled away from Faolan it felt itself anchored. Looking don in annoyance, it saw Faolan's hands contort around it.

"You are right. You've given freedom to the monster in me, so much so that I know I shall never be rid of it. But I will not allow you to do the same to the others."

Faolan's head jerked up, and in his eyes he grappled the Beast for sovereignty over his body, the mad thing's power contorting his body like clay as Faolan's consciousness fought to repress it.

"Now, join with the monster you already know, oh Sword of Rognir. Come, and know that you are forever trapped in a soul already scarred by your blade."

With a monumental pull, Faolan rose to his feet and engulfed the spirit of the Sword in his misshapen arms. The shade had time for only a short scream before it was absorbed into Faolan's body, its malice and hatred burning away what scraps of clothing still remained to him. As the spirit dissipated, black light exploded from Faolan's eyes and mouth, the evil of the Sword seeking to overwhelm him. Collapsing to his hands and knees, Faolan convulsed once, twice, thrice, his body at war with itself, the Beast, the Sword, and him locked in a three way battle for control.

"Now, let us finish it. Let my sacrifice pay to raise this bastion...of hope."

As the breath left Faolan's body, red flame flickered through the black light of the Sword's power. As it did, Faolan threw his head back in a howl, but not the howl of the hunt. This was a howl of mourning, a howl of repentance, and most of all a howl of loyalty to his family. As the sound echoed through the north, the Barrier Peaks ceased their fiery rage, and all around the gods shafts of mithril and adamantine flew from the ground. Twining around each other into a platform under the gods, the current of metal lifted them ever higher, past even the former peak of Caer Faol, until the very heavens themselves seemed within reach. Looking below them, they saw the adamantine and mithril melting together into white-silver orichalcum, unblemished by the rapid, violent birth. Walls and gateways, barracks and feasthalls, libraries and solars, all were given form by the gods' desire to protect creation, the power of the sword and the strength of their convictions given solidarity by Faolan's connection to the earth. As the multi-tiered divine fortress ceased to grow and began to smooth, a great flame burst into being above them, held in place by graceful arches that constituted the ceiling of where they stood, the highest point of the edifice. This star of hope burned against the dark of the void beyond, shining even into the domain of the Once Again King, a symbol of defiance against his dominion.

Yet, even in the light some of the gods were not transfixed. His howl completed and his duty done, Faolan collapsed onto the smooth floor, his body shaking with the titanic struggle going on within. With a cry, Eithne rushed forward to cradle Faolan in her arms, tears streaming from her face as she brushed stray hairs away from his face. His visage was haggard and wan, as that of a corpse, but there remained life in his eyes, if barely.

"What have you done father!? What is going on?"

"Hush Eithne, do not weep for me. This is my penance, for all the pain I have caused in this world."

"No, this isn't right. You've done more to safeguard this world than any god here. Please..."

Eithne looked up with pleading eyes at the assembled gods.

"Please, you must help him..."

Actions Used

1 Ceremony to craft the divine citadel, a symbol of hope and bastion of sanity against the powers of the Once Again King.

1 Ceremony to bind the malicious spirit of the Sword to his own soul, trapping it for all eternity bereft of the power of its form.

ArlEammon

2011-02-05, 09:37 AM

Kasanip

2011-02-05, 11:53 AM

Nari

The spirit of the sword had come to kill her. And before little Nari could even try to defend herself, there it was.

But before it was Faolan, and he wrestled with it as Nari watched on. It was a terrible sight only replaced by the awe the fortress inspired. Truly it was a place of gods.
And now again, Eithne and Faolan together were in tragedy, one that ruled over the sword in it's curse. A black face that should not be seen.

Eithne's pleas were not worthless. Nari was already at her side to comfort her. And Nari helped Eithne to support Faolan and hold him upon her lap.
This heroic figure whom she had just met, and was so related to her also, it was a revelation of surprise, fear, hope, and horror together for Nari.

She rested her hand on Faolan's brow, and it was cool with relief and smelled like spice.
"This is a battle Faolan must fight within..." She answered Eithne quietly. "But he is in our hearts too, just as you are in his heart. He will not be alone so easily."

And then Nari took the gift that Celestan had given to her from her robes. The incense to be lit in a time of need. And she took one of them and touched her lips to it before speaking a few soft words to it. And then she placed it in Eithne's hand.
"This is the fragrance of divinity's true form. It always guides truly through any obstacle. You are in his heart. Find him within yours.
Then with a deep breath, walk the path that connects and binds you two together. Then he will never be astray."

Nari looked to Celestan to light the incense as she helped hold Faolan and tried to comfort Eithne.

Kaiser Omnik

2011-02-14, 11:12 PM

Celestan walked to Nari and lit the stick of incense.

"It's true - it's Faolan's battle now. As I did, he must find himself again. But it doesn't mean we have to sit here and wait. Go ahead Eithne... let him feel your presence. Love will unite all."

1 ceremony spent to purify Faolan's divinity, opening a channel between him and Eithne; love trumps hate!

---

Music (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=juh3tpFzSHA&feature=player_embedded) (video is not important)

Leaving Faolan to rest, praying to the universe that he may get out of this ordeal whole and at peace, the Fire God walked to a balcony in the upper levels of the Bastion. He couldn't see the result of the gods' actions, but he could just feel change in the wind. However, important details were missing...

With arms wide open, Celestan uttered words of power, calling to the spirits of the earth and flame. The ground shook, and the mortals at the base of the fortress feared the worst. However, what was conjured out of the depths was no Behemoth - he was really gone. No, instead emerged statues of obsidian representing those who were lost in the Battle of Caer Faol. Thousands of effigies honoring the heroes of Humanity took form, in place of the charred corpses and piles of bones, like eternal watchmen. But that wasn't all. On four hills all around the Bastion grew gargantuan statues, true colossi towering over all the landscape except the massive fortress itself. Each statue faced a different cardinal point. Those glorious monuments depicted Sovvenia, Raia, Ateris and Rognir. To remind the gods what they have been fighting for since the beginning.

"How does it look? I wish I could see it. I didn't mess it, did I?"

A silver-cloaked crow was perched right above the Fire God's head. The one that had watched the fall of Caer Faol, and countless other historical events unfold before.

"No, not at all kiddo. The vision of your heart is true. It's beautiful, simply beautiful."

"Good."

1 minor act to create the Caer Faol Memorial

TheDarkDM

2011-02-15, 06:59 AM

The Eternal Struggle

As she breathed deep of the incense of Celestan, Eithne felt her spirit slip from its earthly moorings. At first, it was naught but a subtle shift, but with every passing second she fell further into the thin layer between thought and dream, life and death. Among the mists, she saw a great platform rushing towards her, its surface carved in the shape of Faolan's holy symbol. As she neared it, a noise came to Eithne as that of thunder, and it seemed as though lightning were exploding from the platform. It was only as she inexplicably slowed that Eithne saw the three dark figures locked in deadly combat.

One was a hunched, terrible figure, a monstrous distortion of Faolan. Though ti had the body of a man, its face was contorted in a wolf's snarl, and its yes showed little but primal rage. In his ands he held a jagged, ugly greatsword. The second was Faolan as he'd been in the dawn of his divinity, tall and lean, moving a thin bastard sword in flowing motions. The third was a ghastly shadow of Rognir, wielding His Sword. The three danced around each other, none able to gain the upper hand. But as Eithne landed atop their spiritual battlefield, the three ceased fighting and turned.

"Eithne!? What are you doing here?"

"And the plot thickens. We'll have such fun with sweet little daughter."

"Come, my dear, join me and I shall imbue you with unrivalled power!"

The shade reached out to Eithne, and she felt the seductive power of Rognir's craft tugging at her mind. She took a single halting step towards the shade, then another, her body moving like a marionette.

"Oh, bugger that. She's mine, sword wraith!"

The spirit of the Beast leapt towards Eithne, his jaws slavering. Yet he'd only taken a single gouging step before Faolan tackled him to the ground.

"Eithne, go! Get out of here!"

"No my dear, come to me!"

As Faolan wrestled with the Beast upon the lupine slab, and the Sword beaconed her forward, Eithne stood frozen. Her mind was overwhelmed - she saw herself taking up the sword, and ruling as goddess-empress of all mankind. She saw herself naked and terrified, fleeing before the Beast. She saw herself as a child, kneeling beside Faolan within the Den of Twilight. Power, terror, compassion, all collided in a maelstrom. Until the hope of Celestan cut through the madness. With a shout, Eithne pointed towards the Sword, only for fiery chains of divine power to stream from her fingers. Taken by surprise, the Sword barely uttered a gasp as it was engulfed in flames. However, it seemed Eithne was as surprised by the chains as the Sword, as she staggered back.

"Well done girlie! Now, let's you and I talk."

With a heave, the Beast threw Faolan off of him, and bounded towards Eithne. Taking the demi-goddess by the neck, the Beast lifted her into the air.

"Well, isn't this cozy? Just you, me, and broken little daddy. I wouldn't count on him, Eithne. After all, you're just his daughter - he can't live without me."

The Beast gave a predatory smile, and as Eithne gazed into his eyes she was a little girl again, terrified and cold in the woods. Then, without warning, she was released. Staring down, the Beast saw Faolan's blade sticking from its chest. A human hand gripping the back of his neck, the Beast was lifted higher than he'd lifted Eithne.

"I wouldn't be too sure about that, Beast!"

Faolan let out a guttural scream of rage as he whipped the Beat through the air into the flame-bound Sword. The impact drove both of them backwards, over the closed mouth of the divine platform. Slamming his hands down on the stone, Faolan's fingers dug deep furrows.

"All my life, I've lived in fear of you - in fear of myself. As time passed, I clung to that fear, to the rage your constant presence roused in me. You became as my shadow, dark and twisted but inseparable from my spirit. But I say, no more! No more will i allow the baser parts of my nature to control my life. No more will I allow my family, my daughter, to be in constant danger from your insanity. This ends, NOW!"

Faolan pushed down on the platform, cracking the spirit-stone beneath him. With a grinding shriek, the maw of the platform opened beneath the Beast and the Sword. Struggling against the bonds of Celestan, the two malign spirits fell into the depths of Faolan's spirit, bound forever by the hope and love of the children of Rognir.

Gasping, Faolan and Eithne jerked into consciousness. Almost unconsciously, they flew into each others' arms.

The_Snark

2011-02-15, 07:02 AM

The Far West

Eight candles lit the room: four of them real, four not.

The first four were laid out on the floor in the shape of a diamond: a black candle for North, a red one for South, a white one for West, a gray one for East. In the center knelt Kylfa-Madur's daughter, clad all in black. Silver dust and salt lay on the floor all around her, laid out in intricate patterns. The tiny silver grains formed a circle of delicate curves, crisscrossing and interweaving til they resembled nothing so much as a crown of overgrown vines. By contrast, the salt was laid out in thick square lines, nary a curve in sight; these were runes of the oldest sort, ancient and powerful, and they did not suffer themselves to be twisted or bent.

The other four candles did not truly exist, though the light they cast was real enough. Upon one wall of the chamber lay a massive mirror, so that everything within was twinned: eight candles, two doors, two Lilikes kneeling within two binding circles.

Thunder rumbled outside. It was not a thunder born of wind and lighting, but one of voices raised in anger, shouting, the sound of running feet, steel upon steel. Lilike smiled. It could have ruined everything if this storm had arrived later than planned; it would have ruined everything if it had arrived too early. But she had predicted it perfectly, and all was in readiness.

She rose to her feet carefully, oh-so-carefully; a single misstep could have ruined hours of work and weeks of planning. Four candles to represent the four corners of the world; silver lines shaped like serpents to represent the Wall at the edge; runes spelling out the ancient words for imprisonment and the names and deeds of the one who was to be imprisoned. It was a binding circle of extraordinary power, devised by her father as he searched for ways to ensnare his greatest foes. Though fragile, from the inside it was inviolate; an errant breeze might sweep away the whole thing, but from the inside it would not stir so much as a single grain of salt, not even if it were a hurricane. Ateris himself could have hurled his strength against the barrier and found it unbroken, and all Kylfa-Madur's sorcery would have been powerless against it—so long as no one breached the circle from the outside.

Lilike stepped forward and out of the circle effortlessly, for she'd written the runes backwards.

On the other side of the mirror, the other Lilike tried to do the same, and found herself blocked.

Lilike smiled.

For the first time in her life—perhaps the first time in anybody's life—her reflection did not mirror her every movement. It only stood there, blank-faced and unmoving, a puppet whose strings had been cut. Around it, the mirror-room shivered, warping slightly as it tried to match what it ought to be, but the binding held fast. The circle was whole in the real world, and so its reflection was whole as well; that was the nature of mirrors. To alter the circle would violate that as surely as the reflection's imprisonment did, and that the mirror could not do. It trembled and endured.

Lilike raised her hand to the mirror, and found that it no longer resisted her touch. The thing that should have barred her passage with cold mirror-flesh was trapped within the circle, powerless. She stepped through the mirror, black stone knife in hand; no response. Of course it was still bound, but she had half-expected her reflection to try to leap at her, to force her back to the other side or even slip through and take her place. It didn't. It only stood there, staring ahead unblinkingly, its expression almost forlorn.

She was worried that it would prove to be made of glass and metal, but its blood was red when she cut its throat.

~~~~~~~~~

The storm over the capital soon spent itself. The man who called himself Prophet had arrived, and few were willing to call themselves his enemy; not for the memory of a dead prince, and even less for the one who ruled the city now, who had struck at her cousins while monsters ravaged the countryside. The riots had all but run their course by the time Ba Lutei arrived to reestablish order.

What happened next, say the historians, was inevitable. Two of the God King's children were dead on the battlefield, two at the hands of the Thousand Terrors, and the Traitor Queen had fallen in that last night of unrest, her body found lying in one of the palace halls the next morning. If any others remained alive, they had no desire to rule. The next morning Ba Lutei assumed stewardship of the city.

Thus ended the War of the Five Princes.

~~~~~~~~~

Beyond the mirror lay a mad patchwork of floors and walls, set at odd angles to one another. Nothing existed in the reflected world, unless it was reflected in a mirror. Here stood a grand bedroom with only three walls, laid out nearly in full thanks to the huge mirror that hung on the fourth. That last wall did not exist in the world of reflections; only the mirror did, a window—or a doorway—into the real world. Between the great mirror and the wall were gaps, opening onto other fragments. A narrow rectangle of dim stone wall, cast by a shaving mirror in one of the guardhouses; a triangle cut from a tailor's fitting chamber; a brightly colored vista of the great capital of the Far West, as reflected in the palace windows. Here and there tiny spots shimmered and danced: a lady's face glimpsed in her hand-mirror, or the sunlight reflecting off a soldier's burnished steel armor. Lilike soon found that the world shifted while she was not looking; almost any polished surface could be a mirror if the light struck it right, but these were ephemeral, and each time one appeared or vanished, the layout of the mirror-world changed ever so slightly. She might retrace her steps exactly, and yet still never find the place she had started.

It was smaller than the real world, as well. With a dozen steps Lilike had found herself outside the palace, and another dozen took her outside the city gates. A few minutes' walk brought her to a stone-walled chamber set high in a tower, its window looking out onto a vast ocean. That could only be the eastern sea, which meant that this was one of the port cities, a hundred miles or more from the capital. With her reflection disposed of, she could enter and travel through this world freely.

Yet that was not why she'd done it.

Lilike knelt in a dark corner of the room, where the candle's light would not quite reach; it wouldn't do for anyone to glance into a mirror and catch sight of her. Night had fallen, and soon the newly titled Steward would retire to her chambers.

From the very beginning the West had seemed to twist in her grip, struggling to turn upon her and bite. Perhaps the people had loved Kylfa-Madur even as they feared him; perhaps. It was not so for her. Her sorcery had won her fear, but never love, never respect. The other children of Ateris had struggled against her, and together they had sent wolves and plagues and death up and down the land a dozen times, yet it was always Lilike who drew the lion's share of the blame. She had struck at the land which was the roots of her cousins' power—and why not? She could not match their strength on the field; it was not her way. Surely the years of bloody war had taken as many lives as the curses she'd whispered on the night winds—yet they were remembered fondly, now that they'd passed, while her name was a curse.

At the last she'd surrendered; if they wanted a witch, let them have a witch! She'd poisoned the wells and blighted the crops and set loose a thousand ravening horrors from the world's dawn. That single act had done more to unify the shattered land than a dozen years of rebuilding would have, though of course no-one would be grateful for it. Not to her, at any rate; she'd made herself the villain of the piece. But if they would not give her her due, she would take it.

It was well past midnight by the time Ba Lutei entered her chambers. Lilike held perfectly still in the shadows—it could still all go wrong, if she were seen—until the other woman had gone to bed. Her breathing became that of a sleeping woman, long and slow. Only then did Lilike emerge to stand over the bed.

It was done! Lilike exulted in her victory. Her cousin was at her mercy; she could dispose of her however she wished, and then take Ba Lutei's reflection and wear it as her own. Nobody would know, and she could… could…

Could what? Wear Ba Lutei's face forever? Forsake the name her father had given her, and answer to her cousin's name? Rule as she would have ruled, act as she would have acted?

Throw away her life to live somebody else's?

No. No.

Strangling a cry of frustration, Lilike turned and fled into the mirror, running east, east, till she came to the place where floors and walls gave way to moonlit sky, and ran across the surface of the mirror-bright sea.

The_Snark

2011-02-20, 05:21 AM

The world shimmered beneath Lilike's feet as she ran across the water. It should not have borne her touch, but this was the mirror-world; she was real, it was not. What did it matter what a reflection wanted? Nothing. She was real, and her will held sway over the phantoms that lived behind mirrors. The silvery sea rippled at her touch, but it held fast, and she ran.

Above her, the stars of the mirror-world danced, sweeping across the sky in time with the waves: back, forth, back, forth, back, forth, back, forth, endlessly. The shape of the moon shifted, for the sea was an inconstant mirror; one moment it was round and large, the next stretched halfway across the sky, so that it resembled a needle more than a circle—but whatever shape the moon took, its light remained, turning the ocean's surface to liquid silver. Beneath those shining waters lurked the true night sky, where the moon's shape was steady, and the stars restrained themselves to a stately hours-long procession across the sky.

That was the entirety of Lilike's world for a long time. The ocean is a very large place, even in the world of mirrors.

Time passed.

At times it was the sun that lit her path, not the moon. She misliked these times; the sun was often blindingly bright above her, and the waters reflected its harsh glare all the way out to the horizon, and beneath them shone the true sun, so that the entire world was suffused with a radiance that seared the eyes. There was no escaping it entirely, so she fixed her gaze on those parts of the sky that were least bright and walked until the light faded. Only clouds and sunsets broke the monotony of the featureless blue sky, but she soon learned to fear those more than the sun's unrelenting brilliance.

Time passed.

Worse was the sun was the dark: when clouds covered the sun, when storms blocked out the sky, when the moon hid its face. No reflection can exist without light. At these times the world of mirrors shattered, splintered fragments of reflections scattering all around, dwindling into nothing and flying off into the endless dark that lay behind them. Sometimes the world reformed itself around her, and she found herself transported to another part of the sea, one where light still shone. Sometimes it didn't.

Time passed; or perhaps it didn't. There was no way to tell.

She kept walking through the dark—except it wasn't even darkness, not really. She could see herself perfectly, which would not have been true on a black and moonless night. There was no dark here, no more than there was light; just nothingness. And her, utterly and completely alone. Sometimes she almost thought she heard something in the emptiness, a noise like the beating of distant drums. She ran towards them, but they never grew louder. Perhaps it was only a trick of the mind.

Each time she found her way back to the world (or perhaps the world bound its way back to her); yet she never lost the dread of being lost in those empty places between reflections. She fled clouds and storms, and took to pursuing the sun and moon as they set, and in this manner her eastward course began to veer south.

And always, always the ocean was bright but empty: no land, no ships, nothing but briny water stretching out to every horizon. Once she tried to flee an approaching storm by venturing to the real world—once and only once. Even nothingness was better than drowning in the hatefully wide sea, and when a glimmer of sunlight poked through the clouds she dived back through to her mirror-world.

Time passed. At long last she came upon an island, and there she abandoned her mirror-world for a while. The weather was gentle, the air warm, the jungles and lagoons rich with life; she found this to her liking. The people who dwelled there were small of stature and docile in nature, and had never know war; their island had not been touched by the outside world for a long time, perhaps not since the dawn of the world; at any rate there were no outsiders in living memory. The People greeted this first outsider with awe, and named her after the moon, treating her with every reverence. This, too, was to her liking. In a sense it was even true; was she not Night's daughter, pale and beautiful in the dark, hiding her face by day?

For years she lived among them, and then apart from them, when their subservience grew tiresome. She delved into the magics she had learned in her father's tower, and in time she reached beyond his teachings and found things of her own, which he had never envisioned (or at least never trusted to writing). She spoke with the birds that visited the island each winter, and listened to the night winds in search of news of the outside world, though there was little to be had; both birds and wind are forgetful things, and the island was a very long way away from everywhere else. And she watched the stars.

Kylfa-Madur had been an astrologer without peer, and he had confided many of his secrets to paper and ink. The constellations had changed since he penned most of those tomes, but Lilike had gleaned something of the craft herself. If she did not know exactly what they meant, she at least knew the shapes that their meanings were likely to take. The Torch rose resplendent, shining brightly all throughout the night. The Wanderer, which had loomed so large in many of Kylfa-Madur's star charts, now stood on the horizon, its stars dim but constant. The Wolf waxed and waned, twice eclipsing the Spear and twice diminishing. The one she thought of as the Queen—it had never appeared on her father's charts at all—trailed behind the Torch for a time before parting to begin its own path through the heavens.

Yet it seemed to her that the number of constellations was fewer than in her father's day; many had grown dim, or vanished altogether. Lilike began to feel that she had been born into the twilight of the world. All the great deeds were done, and like an old man entering his final years the world was settling down and gradually becoming less, fading and diminishing. This was a bitter thought for Lilike; she was neither old nor infirm, and she did not want peace yet.

And so her thoughts turned once again east, to the land where her fathers had died. Had been killed. She had almost turned against her father, but in the end she had been faithful, and she had done the best she could for their kingdom (or so she told herself). But should the children of Rognir go unpunished for the slaying of Ateris and Kylfa-Madur? Was there not one more thing she could do, in her father's name? One noble thing she could do before the world's end?

These things occupied her thoughts more and more, and one moonlight night she stepped into the still waters of the lagoon and returned to the mirror-world. At first she journeyed east, but as the moon set she was seized with a sudden fear, and raced wildly after it, south, south, ever south. The moon touched the horizon, and Lilike ran as she had never run before, imagining already that she could hear the drums beating in those endless empty spaces.

Then a light appeared on the southern horizon. No; the light was the horizon. She had caught the moon at last; here was the place where it sank beneath the world so that it could rise again the next day, here was the place where the sea turned to fire, here was the Uttermost South.

She reached a hand out through the surface of the waters to pull herself out of the mirror-world, and hissed in fury as the heat charred her hand. But that hand had been burned already, long ago, when the Bird with Eight Wings flew at her to avenge the shedding of its master's blood. It was... not as painful as it could have been. Lilike gritted her teeth, and wove a spell with her other hand.

The heat was worse once she emerged fully from the mirror-world, but only her left hand burned. No sorcery could shield her completely from the fires at the end of the world, but this sacrifice would tide them over for a time. The drums beat in Lilike's mind and she must find them, she must see what could call to her over such a distance. There was power there, a power that could reach even into the emptiness between mirrors; a power that she could use to take revenge in her father's name. Her cousins and uncles and aunts were many, and some were older and greater than she. She needed this.

A snakeskin wall lay before her, pitted and scarred, blocking the path to the beater of drums; and something else also, some sorcery she had never before seen. It was not her father's work; it brought to mind deserts and dry winds, the bittersweet taste of nostalgia and things that have been lost forever. Not her father's work, but she could perhaps undo it. And there were scars in the wall, as if someone had tried to carve through it once before. That did look like her father's work. Well, she would finish what he started.

Lilike placed her knife in the gaps and began to re-trace the runes, carving deep into the scales of A'gap.

Raz_Fox

2011-02-20, 08:12 AM

A Night

There is a night. It is concerned with grief and preparation. The moon sails through the sky, the stars move into their ordained positions, and a great cry rises from humanity, a prayer of salvation.

The fortress stands inviolate, and the gods speak with one another. Tonight, they are a family. Brave Celestan stands next to prodigal Faolan, the Half-Beast God. Nari, the sister beautiful in body and soul, serves just as readily as her wild brother, Nara. Garadiel, who seems old before this next generation of gods, stands as the head of the family.

Ah, where has Pa'am gone? Lost in the sands of time. Where is Ganrei? Beneath the earth, fighting the wyrms that Rognir forgot. They will not stand at Alrodores. Ah, where is mighty Phromm buried? Beneath the ice, unmarked and known only by his children. Who weeps for Raia, who mourns for Sovvenia? Alarin plays dirges for them alone.

The gods have lost so much. But the worst is still to come.

An End of Morning

There is a man in the grim wastes of the north. His coat is made out of the skin of a green-eyed woman, and it stops most of him from falling apart. If his fingers frost over any more than they already have, though, he may lose them - at least for a little while.

He has kept warm through constant motion - drilling a hole through the ice, deep into the heart of a mountain of ice, and now he stands in the presence of his brother. His brother is curled up beneath a hundred miles of ice, his massive - gigantic, mammoth, awe-inspiring - body heaving in and out slowly. The chamber he is in shows signs of his fury, and his great rage, and his futile attempts to escape. The fangs of the wolf are the height of towers, and his claws are of the same stature - when his tail beats, it makes the chamber quake with the force of a tempest.

Broken knives are scattered all about him. The chains that bind the beast are of the craft of Rognir, and his mortal blades have no effect. The key was destroyed before he was even born. There is no way for the beast to escape and begin the rampage that will distract his siblings long enough for him to steal the fruit of the world's tree. The man runs to the desert to think, letting the frost melt and his skin blister and burn. If there is no key, he must make a key.

He runs back, picking up one of his knives. He examines the lock, which is so tiny that the wolf cannot even see it, and he pulls out the knife and begins to carve out the key. It takes many trials and errors, but thank his father's rotting soul - it only takes him twelve fingers to figure out the shape of the key. And he has ten more, and another ten after that.

He fits the key in the lock, and he twists. There is a click, and the wolf's eyes spring open. It rises, thrashing wildly, and the chains that so envelop it fly about. The man has enough time to grin in triumph, before he is smashed against the wall of the chamber with a snap that should have killed him. His big brother does not even notice.

It howls, and smashes itself against the walls of the chamber. Again. And again. And again. And the ice shatters, and it claws its way out, to sniff the fresh air again. And now it is the end of night, and the beginning of morning, and the sun rises from the well at the northernmost edge of the world.
The beast turns its head and snaps it down in one bite.

Its eyes roll, and it screams in torment - fulfilling its fate has destroyed it. There is an unquenchable fire in its belly, and there is so much PAIN enveloping its heart and soul that it can only look for a target, a way to vent its pain on anything else, everything else.

The mountains of the north shake as the wolf runs, its back scraping against the sky, its wild howls heard across the world. And as it falls into the ocean, so great is its bulk that the water rises up, sinking the grand port cities of Iuvenis, and swamping the islands of Zhang. Water runs through the streets, and the seas rise up to reclaim the land.

And the man in the red skin-coat stands up, flexes all of his lovely fingers, and smiles to himself. It's time that he got what he always deserved.

An End of Evening

There are a million creatures that dig at the wall. The wall has always been there, and it has always been their hated enemy. They want to breathe, to be again, to live once more. HOW THEY CRAVE IT. It is what keeps them digging, hacking at the great wall with their bare hands, with bleeding and broken fingers and cracked knuckles, with shattered manibles and escardiak d'vanar. The owl-kin stands by the Ael, the tejak melkai stands by the damned priest of Mortant, and they all labor under the baleful gaze of the Once And Again King.

One, one lucky one, finally breaks through the diamond-hard wall, the final layer between it and the blessed reality beyond - it is so close, that it can no longer contain its joy, and screams out in tormented ecstasy. But its scream turns to one of sheer and utter agony, as it breaks its hand upon the charms of Sovvenia - a last protection, a skin placed about the scales of A'gap.

The Once And Again King rises from his sepulchral throne of twisted brass, set about with dinestones and inlaid with the skin of the Kassalt, and he raises his hand, and commands her to come forth. And she does, with a grave face and stone-cold eyes, into the heart of Hell itself.

"A good evening," he says, in his cold polite roar, underlaid by the susurrus of seven voices intertwined in harmony. "I shall be passing through the gap in splendor and majesty. So is the will of the forgotten King."

"This world is defended," she says. He smiles - his cheeks splitting apart to show his ordered, gleaming fangs, three rows of glittering sword-like teeth.
"No longer. Your charms are but dust compared to the will of the Once And Again King. Behold - already, a new word is enscriven before the pit, and a new order that shall herald mine. I but prove my will against your scarred charms, and they shatter apart, unconstrained by simple sanity more the longer." He passes his hand across his face, as he steps forward - the ranks of the damned parting before him - and the runes and sigils before him fade away. "See? Perhaps a century more they preserved this fleeting world, but no more anon; so I decree, so it is. By the hand of god defiled, you sweet lady - your own blood destroys you."

"You do not understand," she says, fading away to be with her dear brother. Oh, sleep, sleep - how it presses upon her. "You know nothing of this world's defenses. You cannot fathom them."

"I know every sword in every hand in every world - tell me, lady who I once dined before the gates of Memory and Fate, what more defense can there be? I know but every spell what ever came to the mind of mortal man, and I categorically defy them; I command, and so it is. My dreams are your reality - so it shall come to be, and so it will have been forevermore. Awaken me, and nothing is, and was, and will ever be again. So what gate can they erect before us? What talisman girded about them? Where is their defense?"

And she smiles, and crumbles into dust, with but a whisper. "Protect the tree, Garadiel. My day is done."

"...I loved you all."

And so the Once And Again King steps out, his bare feet upon the blistering sand, and he looks down on Lilike, the traitor who opened the door. And he smiles, and says to her, "Blessed are you, child, above every damned soul upon this earth. Wherefore have you summoned me before the world - for I say to you, stand by we, and in the new world you shall know paradise." And he leans down, and kisses her upon the brow, with surprising tenderness.

He stands, and sees the moon descending into the well of the south, bringing with it such a cold wind that were Lilike not a goddess she would surely have perished. He gestures, and the moon falls into the small of his hand, no more than the size of a pearl. He caresses it gently with his ever-so-soft fingers, as his horde of had-beens and would-have-beens and could-have-beens and forgotten travesties surges forth in a gleaming, bloody, endless horde. They do not touch Lilike - she will be rewarded soon enough.

He crushes the moon between his fingers, and holds out his other hand. Into it is placed a spear, one that shimmers with unreality, and it is grasped tightly. A crown of silver and emerald descends onto his brow, and his burning eyes blaze with unholy light. He mounts his mighty steed, twelve-legged and six-fanged, and it roars out obscenities at the reality that it sees before it - ordered, tyrannical, and petty.

"Come, goddess who has betrayed this fleeting world. Let us dance across the road, and then take the flowering of the endless tree for ourselves. This world ends, and I will not see another come but with my power ruling above it!"

Do not worry, for the Once And Again King shall end this facade and create the true reality. Rejoice! For under him there shall be no more death, or loneliness, or sorrow, or sanity. He looks up, and sees the tree - oh, so close to releasing its fruit! - and spurs his heels into the flanks of his steed. It starts down the mighty road that has been laid out for them, that leads to the very roots of the tree.

TheDarkDM

2011-02-20, 09:29 AM

The Fortress at the Edge of Night

Faolan spent the days after his mad rampage in isolation deep beneath the Fortress of the Gods, within the Den of Twilight that served as its foundation. Free at last from the hounding voice of the Beast, he seemed to enter a fugue, speaking not a word after his emergence from the dark entanglement of the Sword. Yet Faolan was not idle. No, far from it, for the radical change that had shaken his spirit to the very core required quiet reflection that not even Eithne could intrude upon.

Among the quiet shadows and false stars of the Den of Twilight, Faolan knelt at the center of the Wyrm's eye atop a piling of unblemished marble, a statue within the primordial cavern. A thick mist had arisen from the surface of the pool when he'd begun his meditations, and now on the third day the mist stirred. Taking shape around Faolan were a multitude of beings, the spectral echoes of every being wronged by the Hunter-God in his quest for vengeance. They stood in silent vigil around their killer and their god, for in their thirst for justice they had but one recourse in all the world of Rognir. As night fell and the third day passed into the fourth, Faolan's eyes flicked open.

Viewing the spectral multitude, Faolan scanned every face, every being, committing their identities to the inviolate memory of the gods. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he saw his children among the dead, the Grey Watch which had for centuries safeguarded the world of men, cut down by their mad father. Yet for Faolan the dead had no words, no recourse save the silent condemnation he could feel at his very core. Standing amid the silent throng, Faolan bowed his head and spread his arms, leaving himself open and undefended before their cold fury.

"There is naught that I can say to lessen the magnitude of my crime. All my life, I have claimed to be the protector of mortalkind, the arbiter of justice. Yet in my own blind zeal I allowed the shadow of my nature to corrupt the purity of my purpose. I was no better than the twin gods of the West - nay, I was worse, for in my madness I harmed not only my family but my charges. I have failed my duty in every way, yet I must ask you to forgive. I must beg you to put aside your rage, for in your spirits I see the thirst for justice that must always guide the hand of divinity. But if corrupted by wrath, by pettiness and a lust for revenge, justice contorts into vengeance, and all are lost."

As Faolan's voice trailed into echoes, silence returned to the darkened chamber. Yet, the mist was no longer still, as the gathered spirits shuddered and twisted, their forms merging among each other as fog in a windstorm. The maelstrom threatened to engulf Faolan, buffets of anger and resentment threatening to hurl him from his perch and into waters that had turned black and menacing. Through it all, Faolan stood, making no attempt to defend himself, his existence moot should his redemption fail. For a moment, it seemed the storm would consume him, until one face appeared amid the screaming vapors - Merrik.

Faolan could not help but utter a horrified gasp at the sight of his second child, greatest of his Watch, glaring at him with such hate. Yet as the spirit saw the tears stream from Faolan's once-again amber eyes, rage faded into confusion, and then into deep abiding sadness. The spirit took a hesitant step forward, and as it did so Faolan reached out as though to embrace the child he'd been. At that old memory of terrified youth and sudden security, the wraith of Merrik surged forward to accept the embrace, wrapping its misty arms around Faolan's familiar back. Yet even as it did so, the figure melted into Faolan, followed by a silent vortex of other souls, the one chink of kindness and remorse allowing them to escape the bitter anger of tyrannous vengeance.

As the torrent of souls plunged into Faolan, his embrace was broken as his back arched, his face thrust towards the ceiling. Flame kindled in his eyes, but unlike the fires of the Beast these were pure, all encompassing white, the light of insight and wisdom wrapped in the edge of unyielding principle. The selfsame flame began to flow from Faolan's mouth, and it seemed as though he would perish to the light as the last spirit embraced him. White fire burst from the surface of the Den of Twilight, and as the light washed over him and bounced from the multitude of jewels embedded in the Den's ceiling, a beam of white luminescence leapt from Faolan's right hand. Contorting and folding into itself, the beam of flames took on the shape of a sword, its blade not black but the pure shining clarity of diamond. A hilt and pommel of unidentified metal coalesced in Faolan's hand, and as he gripped the blade it burst into flames.

Shocked, Faolan released the blade, and it vanished. For a moment, he stood examining his naked palm, unmarked by the molten metal and flames that had so recently consumed it. Reaching out again, Faolan clenched his sword-hand, and the blade re-materialized, called into being by the clarity of his spirit and will of those souls seeking Vengeance - no, seeking Justice. In his hand, Faolan held the purest manifestation of his purpose, uncorrupted and strong. It's light was that of the multitude of stars in the night sky, and as he gazed into it Faolan felt something he'd thought long since fled from him - hope.

But then, a tremor went through the ground, and even thousands of miles away Faolan could feel the skin of A'Gap failing beneath Lilike's traitorous wounds. Another tremor shook the Den, then another, a constant drumbeat that cut to the very foundations of the world. Alrodores had come, and Faolan would meet his destiny.

Sprinting up through the passages and halls of the Fortress of the Gods, Faolan ascended to the central spire. There, amidst his gathered family, he watched the storm of madness approach from the south.

Actions Taken:

Trade Faolan's ranks in the Vengeance domain for ranks in the Justice Domain.

Trade Bloodlust for Blade of Judgement. His soul tempered in the flames of Celestan and the enduring love of family, Faolan is no longer driven by the mad urgings of the Beast. Indeed, while the desire to avenge wrongs still courses through the very fabric of his being, Faolan has gained the clarity of mind and peace of spirit to temper his urges with wisdom. By that same token, the Flames of Vengeance have been harnessed into something more, a divine weapon that serves not vengeance, but the justice and faith of the gods and their people.

Raz_Fox

2011-02-20, 09:37 AM

Oh, and because I forgot:

Turn Alrodores has Begun!
All Gods have 7 Major Acts, 7 Minor Acts, and 3 Ceremonies!

ArlEammon

2011-02-20, 03:01 PM

It starts down the mighty road that has been laid out for them, that leads to the very roots of the tree.

Shen Zhi Shu

Thunder struck near the Fortress Gaurding the Tree. Shen Zhi Shu teleported there, just as The Once And Again King drew near on his horse. Shen Zhi Shu's face appeared in the sky, coalescing into a human form. There were powerful spiritual wards placed around the Fortress, meant to protect the gods inside. . . Shen Zhi Shu had sacrificed a tiny portion of his blood, enchanting some tracings along the ground with powerful abjuration and curses. . . Soul fire bloomed from the tracings with Shen Zhi Shu's Evocative magical powers, specifically designed to harm The Once And Again King. Shen Zhi Shu arrived with a serious expression on his face. "I've been waiting for you Yen Lo Wang."

Kaiser Omnik

2011-02-20, 03:26 PM

The Fortress at the Edge of Night

Following the loss of the sun and the gigantic tidal wave that devastated Iuvenis' and Zhang's shoreline, Celestan inspected the last piece of the sacred Adamah Tapestry displayed on the walls of the fortress' inner sanctum, hoping to understand exactly what was at its origin. But some time in the evening, the heart of the Fire God almost stopped - far away, the last barriers between Humanity, the Gods and the Horde of Dreamers were shattering. Two children of Rognir had been sacrificed to hold the wall...yet They had come through.

Suddenly, Celestan found himself wearing the Orichalcum Armor, which he had thought gone since his baptism of fire in the Uttermost South. Chains of words in ancient languages appeared all over its surface. There were more and more of them and they spinned and melded together. All the while flashes and thoughts not his own raced inside Celestan's head. The Everbright Lord fell to his knees, out of breath. Then, the chaotic mess of symbols were all drawn towards the part of the breastplate covering the heart - where it took the definite, final shape of a majestic tree. Celestan quickly regained his composure. He headed to the central spire with the other gods, just as Faolan was coming back from the Den.

"I have seen all. The secret knowledge which belonged to my mother is mine now. Thus, it must mean...Alrodores!"

Celestan walked to the balcony and stood next to his cousin. Now everyone in the whole of Creation heard the terrible drums - that atrocious yet mesmerizing music that had almost pushed the Heralds of the Tree to insanity.

"What do we do? The Wolf has awakened in the North, a fury like none we have seen before, and the Horde of Dreamers marches right to us."

At the base of the citadel, unknown to Celestan, his protégée, Sun, hid in the crowds of mortals loyal to the Pantheon. Once she was beautiful and always cheering; now only sadness and horror could be read on her face. Once she had the most graceful angelic wings...but they were gone, ripped off by herself a few days before the Once and Again King entered this world, out of shame. She had since realized the madness of her activity as a Dreamer...but too late. The fruits of the World Tree were all ready for the taking, and that was partially because of her and others like her who had let their hubris blind them. And now, despite the warmth of the crowd, Sun felt only cold and darkness...ready to give up on life.

----

Meanwhile, Garadiel sensed the presence of his long lost sister in the Underworld.

White Blade

2011-02-20, 04:19 PM

There is one harrowing scream, one hallowing call in the deep of the earth. Those who can be roused in the slumber of the wastes are roused, those who can remember the way they once walked and their faces and names. To those who have forgotten these, no word can reach, for they have faded to the places where all the souls must go when they have finished their myriad ways. The mountain which had been consumed by trouble and strife is burning now with the fire of the call to the world. The darkness which rules the Western Edge of the shadow world is expanding eastward swiftly.

Garadiel's ways are ending. This shadow world cannot go, for the thing it mimics fades. Rognir's world needs kings. For sun and moon must burn in the sky, the gods must rule from West and East, the Wall must be preserved. And the stars must ever shine. But now, no longer. Every crown is a fallow artifact. The gods are servants and not kings. The sun is swallowed and the moon is crushed. The wall is broken and the stars have ceased to glimmer in that ancient sky.

The host of the wakened dead and those at rest in the land of satisfaction are assembled behind the Psychopomp. Beside he who first made known those ancient ways. But there is one who he waits for and one last thing he must do before he wars with the Once and Again King.

Garadiel stands before her, his eyes shining with bright emotion as he looks at her, Sovvenia, he says, and for the first time since the long walk down the tree's perilous gifts, his words are truly free. And she knows that he remembers her and their years of fear and their days of worry. The sword has been undone, and she knows it. Her son is brave, and she is not deceived. But Garadiel does not remember these things, he remembers her. He remembers the day they met at the door of Rognir's house. He remembers the way the leaf and hand each weighed on him, he remembers the deeper paths of the tree. He remembers the fear that struck him, the hallowed awe of that deeper place, he remembered their transformation. He remembered their plans, he remembered their screams. He remembered the day that she departed him. The day when he stood alone. She knows the way he loves her, the deep ancient bonds of family and duty, is both passionate and old. It has not slumbered since the day that she went to guard the edge of the world.

Raz_Fox

2011-02-20, 09:08 PM

On The Blasphemous Road That Crosses The Wastes Of Negeb; A Chance Meeting Between A Sage And A King

The incarnate alien waves his hand airily, and the fires of Shen's wards part before him, to his left and to his right. Those things that stand by him are not so lucky, and fall to the ground, writhing in agony. "You shall address me by the name that has been given before you, o blind god of the tapestries. The Once And Future King am I, and my dominion I come to have reclaimed. Tell me, before you are torn asunder - by what right have you kept the Tree for yourself?"

And with that - ah, with those words, the spear flickers in his hands, and darts towards Shen Shi Zhu's chest with all the force of Rognir's spear on his ancient hunts, burning through his wards like a fire through oiled woods.

On The Ramparts Of The Last Bastion Of Humanity - The Serpent King's General Stands Ready With The Incarnation Of Rognir

Two men approach Celestan - one, grim-faced and dark-haired, with the emblem of the Tree emblazoned on his shield; the other, a weak-eyed man whose livery bears the mark of the Serpent King of Iuvenis. Both carry naked blades, and have such expressions of pure defiance upon their faces that even the gods might shudder before them.

"Let them come," says Verdant, his voice shaking with a power more ancient than the gods themselves. "They have tried before, and failed due to the bravery of the gods. If we stand as one, they will fail again."

"We shall stand united against this foul horde," says Jorian, former general of the Serpent King's host. Behind his words is a presence dark and terrible and foreboding, and the rasp of scales upon scales. "Alas, that I only have one life to give against this blasphemous host of fallen beings - I would give two, were I allowed to do so."

ArlEammon

2011-02-20, 09:51 PM

On The Blasphemous Road That Crosses The Wastes Of Negeb; A Chance Meeting Between A Sage And A King

The incarnate alien waves his hand airily, and the fires of Shen's wards part before him, to his left and to his right. Those things that stand by him are not so lucky, and fall to the ground, writhing in agony. "You shall address me by the name that has been given before you, o blind god of the tapestries. The Once And Future King am I, and my dominion I come to have reclaimed. Tell me, before you are torn asunder - by what right have you kept the Tree for yourself?"

And with that - ah, with those words, the spear flickers in his hands, and darts towards Shen Shi Zhu's chest with all the force of Rognir's spear on his ancient hunts, burning through his wards like a fire through oiled woods.

Indeed, the spear darted towards Shen Zhi Shu's chest with ALL of the force of Rognir's strength indeed. . . but so did the mark on Shen Zhi Shu's forehead come forth as the Wizard god's body was in danger of being skewered. . . Rognir's sword came as a spiritual, ghostly image from the ground it'self, defending the Mag'es body with equal force and skill. . . Shen Zhi Shu raised his sword-hand, not adept at swordsmanship, it nervetheless stroke a blow into the air towards Yen Lo Wang's direction, and closed his eyes, as an enormous surge of energy rippled through Zhi Shu's entire body, the mark of Rognir on his head shined brightly, and interacted with the Sword of Highest Ceremony. . .In effect, both swords were combined. . .With Shen Zhi Shu's left hand, he waved an arcane gesture at Yen Lo Wang, causing the
War Spirit of Pan-Lung, or Rognir, to transform into a destructive force. With the magical gesture of Shen Zhi's, the powerful destructive war spirit of Rognir, struck against, or would strike against Yen Lo Wang. . . Meanwhile, Himiko was watching the battle with the Soul Stone, made of Soul Fire.

Kaiser Omnik

2011-02-20, 11:58 PM

Death's End - Sovvenia and Garadiel

Sovvenia walked into Garadiel's arms and gave him a long, warm embrace. She appeared not as the Construct God rebuild by Eridi, driven only by its devotion to the Plan, but rather as her fragile, raven-haired self. Neither was she the embodiement of all memories, a simple conduit for nostalgia and sorrow of things past - no, she was his younger sister, mostly as he remembered her, only...at peace now.

"Garadiel!"

Grey tears ran down her colorless cheeks. Sovvenia hugged her brother with all the strength of her fading spirit. Such emotions had not manifested in her since her death as Azura. She had always sought to distance herself from her own feelings, first to carry on her duty without restraints, then to let other memories express themselves through her - never completely opening herself to others. But today, finally freed from a weight the size of the world, the goddess could finally breath. There, among the legions of the Dead, she felt only the conforting presence of Garadiel, and the love of family; the touch of kindness of a brother who never forgot her, was all she needed to feel whole again.

If only those were not the last moments of her existence.

"I will be waiting. We will embark on a new journey together, when the time is right. Unburdened. Completely free. I promise...big brother!"

Sovvenia smiled and stepped back, turning into nothing more than a faint glimmer; she knew too well that nothing could stop Garadiel from accomplishing his destiny.

The Fortress at the Edge of Night

Celestan ran down the stairs of the citadel, hoping that Shen would be able to hold Him off for a few moments. Before the gates, right behind the sigils of the Phoenix Lord, stood armies of Men, Giants and other folk, big and small, still loyal to the Children of Rognir. The Horde was terrifying indeed, but the protectors of the Tree were legions, upholding the pact made with the Gods, and with each other through the Adamah Tapestry. Among them there were even the kuebiko, the animate scarecrows. They held the Soul Lantern of Toukoku, much like the gods had the Soulfire Lamp. Thus, despite the eternal night, a million points of light flared in the courtyard of the mighty Fortress. Celestan himself appeared much stronger, and his radiance at least doubled in size.

They were not alone. The jinns and other magical creatures loyal to the gods soon joined them.

2 major acts from Celestan to up the Fire and Regeneration domains, fueled by the hope of the last defenders of the Tree
Humanity uses a major act to boost its own Humanity domain

2 minor acts from Celestan to share the power of the Soul Lantern with all the mortal defenders present, mirrored by the same number of acts from Humanity; this is in addition to the power of the Tapestry

White Blade

2011-02-21, 12:22 AM

Garadiel watches his sister fade, perhaps lost, perhaps called, he did not know. But the massive fire rushes westward, now bright and fierce enough to swallow the world it seems, and the great, pitched shadow struggles against it, rushing east. There, in the land of Satisfaction, lies a sword forged long ago, left sleeping in the depths of Aldric's full shadows.

Garadiel leads the host of the dead to the fire, he hopes and knows that it is now burning because a new world must soon be born, and the world tree is calling all the spirits home. To rest or to new life. Garadiel grasped Final Resort, his hand trembling. It had spared the life of madness once. In this hour, it would have to take it. The souls that followed Garadiel threw themselves into the fire before him. The fire drew so near it touched him and almost consumed him and then the shadow came and almost swallowed him whole.

But he vanished into the living world. Now, even as the world ended, men died and flocked to the side of the Psychopomp, since the land of the Dead was destroyed. They were lost and he was their shepard. He gave them name and purpose, as he once had the burning spirits of the mad. But now, the name was beautiful and the purpose was brave. And slowly, like newborn stars, a thousand upon a thousand spirits appeared. All those born in Rognir's world who died after the end of the shadow world became a mighty, brave host of warriors, with aether for skin and blade, given direction and proportion to the lord of the dead.

In the living world, Garadiel stood on the brink of the fortress and smiled, it was Raia's smile, a warm smile. The smile of War, left to keep her brother safe and happy. Garadiel cast bright images into the minds and hearts of his sibling with his words, showing the images he saw at beneath the tree. The tree's prophecy and the four foes that he and his family must face. He stands against the Once and Again King as he sees Shen and the King upon the road to the fortress.

To Verdant, he says nothing that anyone can hear. His eyes touch his son's and all is said between them. This day, this night, this ending, but the world tree would survive. And Garadiel loves his son also. So he takes his blade and speaks to the King that would Undo The World.
You have been a hero once, in the words so pure and clear and central that even Rognir could not have made them. Turn back from this way. Live again anew and not vainly, not madly. But try and stand against me and I will drive you from this crashing world.

2 Major Acts to increase the Life and Death domains.
1 Major Act to gain the Great Creator ability.
2 Major Acts to create the Twilight Host, which is ridiculously tough and large in size thanks to the above Great Creator Ability.

Raz_Fox

2011-02-21, 09:20 AM

On The Blasphemous Road That Crosses The Wastes Of Negeb; A Chance Meeting Between A Sage And A King

A question: what happens when an unstoppable force meets an unmovable object? The answer: they yield. Shen's arcane strike explodes into a thousand shards, ripping apart the earth and throwing The Once And Again King from his steed. But as he rises from the shattered earth, not even an inch of him is burnt or bruised, and he laughs. "Was the belief within you that your master who stands before you could be overtaken with such ease? I tell you the truth, 'twas I who ripped the war-god's eye from its socket - his unholy ghost provides not terror before my eyes."

They Who Waited Beyond spill past Shen Shi Zhu - ah, foolish god, to stand alone before the all-conquering horde. Some swoop down on him on leathery, feathered, rusting wings, seeking his blood with their talons, their knives, their long beaks. They descend upon him in a swarm, ripping, tearing - but Shen Zhi Shu knocked them aside, for though he was the god of magic still powerful was he.

But then he saw before him his daughter's smiling face, his beautiful Himiko, with blasphemous green eyes. The god of magic hesitated for a moment - but a moment - and that was all his foe needed. "You came to power by the sword, did you not? Slaying the foes of your people, knocking them aside as flies scatter the fields." He twists the blade, opening up the gaping wound in Shen's chest further. "And so it was ordained that you would end thus. Farewell, mawkish charlatan."

The words of Garadiel ring out on the Negebi plains, and The Once And Again King looks up to the mighty fortress that stands against him. Within the day - though none now can tell the passage of day and night - They Who Waited Beyond will be at its walls, tearing through them as they tore through the serpent's skin. "Oh, you fool, you witless orphan. We all seek life, and you cannot be the one who takes it. We shall not be driven back again, blown to the edges of nonexistence for your selfish sport. Choke on your fairest words, ill-begotten son, ill-loved father, and rot within a corpse's embrace. I will drink of the Seed's juices, I will tear into its flesh and make it mine own thrice again."

To The Flooded Northlands; Two Wolves Approach, Howling In Pain

Its back scrapes up against the sky, and its teeth are greater than mountains. The abandoned son of Rognir sweeps down from the uttermost north, his eyes rolling madly, his howls of agony bursting the ears of those who wait on the northern ramparts. As he rampages across Givreterre, mountains shatter at his passage, and the continent snaps asunder as he rampages across it. Soon - far too soon - he shall be at the Tree, to tear it from the earth and devour it.

Such is the terrible majesty of the wolf's approach that not a soul notices the red tempest approaching from the northwest, speeding across the surface of the water. Heradi has come home, brothers, and he will have the Seed in his hands - and then every one of you will pay the price.

Kasanip

2011-02-21, 10:02 AM

Nari :　The Fortress at the Edge of Night
運命は気まぐれバイ (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SVmMScSY2XE)

Nari stared up at the sky that was empty above. At the top of the tower, she could see the land around.
And she closed her eyes.
What could be called "Victory" in a world that now had no Sun or Moon? Was this even a world anymore they could call their own?

And as she closed her eyes she could hear the beating of her heart, and she could hear the sounds of all of those who were here. There were the Emiyu, who had seen so long ago this kind of disaster and would not run again. There were the Tengu, fiercest warriors of Nari, and of Raia before her. The Shiuk riders gathered as well, and even now the Tumi had come. War's beckon on the winds as they made themselves visible again to stand with the Gods against this threat.

But Nari had no banner. She didn't have armor, or a sword, or any weapon like this that could help. She had no magic like Shen, or any of the battle skill of Nara or Faolan. All of her brothers were ready for war. Even Celestan stood there now with them.
And with them were all of those whom had served her, Ya-un-Kurumi with his people, and Tengu Oneclaw with all of his tengu.
Was there anything she could do?

Nari opened her eyes again. She would not be lost again. Seeing Garadiel's smile had brought something to burn in her. A flame that had been cared for by Celestan and the Soul Lantern before.
If there was nothing else she could do here, then there was only one thing she could do, and was to change herself.

She would become the one thing that was required to defeat this enemy. She would become the one thing and would make sure their foes could not claim it. At least not before they claimed her.

Nari concealed herself, wrapping the winds of fortune around her, and gathering it here.

The rush of air became like a storm, but it shrunk into her hands, glowing with gold light as she shaped it and called it to her. From her dress she took the color and light, and from even her fan, she stole away it's colors, and so her own history. The images of the fan swirled and shifted to tell a different story, as Nari shaped herself again. There in her core, the fire that would not extinguish, she felt this and surrounded it, and guarded it carefully.

And from that fire there was limitless, infinite possibilities. One path she had walked, and now Nari felt herself standing on nothingness with feet that weren't her own. They were the feet of a child who walked on stone floors in a room that Nari could not even imagine. These were the feet of a life Nari couldn't know, but were of a daughter who was raised proud and true in a land far to the East.
These legs she stood on were fast and agile, maybe perhaps the fastest that had once walked. But they weren't Nari's, and so they changed again as she tried to shape her past. Now they were decorated with gold and pearl as Nari rode a horse across the steppes. But that life was a dream that never was, and it was not her dream now.
So many other possibilities! But none of them she could have, and none of them persuaded her with desire. She only had one.

What was the shape of that she desired to become?

Nari opened her eyes, and upon the guiding fan she saw the story of a woman who was war, who became the maiden of beauty and peace, and now was the child of fortune and victory. 3 times she had turned, like a world that had turned twice, and would once again here now. She was the herald of a New Age, although what that Age would become was still unknown, and so too her future.
But it was a future of limitless possibility, and that was the hope that little Nari could see as she opened her eyes again.

Nari took the fan into her hands. And it was a beautiful fan full of color. The dress too large for her now, lay about on the floor. But she was fortune, and fortune wrapped about her as clothes. It was simple, and yet more pure than the starlight had been. The tiara that had held her hair became a circlet, and on that circlet there was one word written so it could not be read, and yet it was understood so easily "YROTCIV".

And as the child goddess stepped outside, her eyes fell upon the army there. Her brothers also she could see. In sandal feet she walked forward to be with them. She would be victory for them.

And as the people saw the child goddess emerge, their voices were filled with passion and hope, burning the flames of Celestan could reach the stars!

Acts
1 Major Act: Gain Domain: Victory
1 Major Act: Gain Ability: Divine Inspiration
1 Major Act: Artifact: Fortune Dress
The circlet and very clothes of Nari are woven from fortune and light. Their purity and potential are like a divine shield for the young goddess. To touch her is to feel completely the feeling of good. Beware though, that "Good Fortune" for one maybe be "Bad Fortune" to another person.

2 Minor Acts: Inspire the United People (Mass Euphoria also should apply I think)

4 Major Acts, 5 Minor Acts, 3 Ceremonies Remaining

White Blade

2011-02-21, 10:34 AM

Garadiel swoops down from the top of the fortress as Shen falls. The wound in his chest is gaping as few even Garadiel has seen are. But he is a god and there is still time. He passes through the army of the Once and Again King, glancing into the shadow every time a blow is struck at him disappearing and reappearing only a moment later. His hand claims a life amidst the army now and again, his aether army slaughters in his wake. Already, it seems, the host of Rognir's world is the size of the host of the lost.

And then he is upon his brother's form and far too close to the Once and Again King. And he sees a girl and his eyes flicker with the scent of his own blood. But he is not bleeding yet. He knows this one. She carries a blade that still smells of his ancient might and the day of his father's death. She is a goddess and there is no mistake. There is no time, indeed as a servant of Kyfla-Madur Garadiel has doubt there is a way, for him to strike this one.

He snaps Shen Shi Zhu into his arms and signals his army that it is time to retreat. He smiles at the Once and Again King, I am Death and I am Life in this world, which has not ended yet. I give to whom I will give. I take from whom I will take. And then he takes one swift step toward the Fortress and his feet and army land solidly at its gate. But there are already seven gashes in his arms and legs from the Once and Again King's blows. Celestan! Help! he hollers at his nephew.

ArlEammon

2011-02-21, 11:22 AM

Shen Zhi Shu
A mysterious star passes through the sky of the world. Shen Zhi Shu barely manages to keep his conciousness as his brother, Garadiel carried him to Celestan, his nephew. . . Shen Zhi Shu knows that his time is short. Just then, he manages to figure out, despite his closing conciousness, that the healing presence of Celestan is nearby. Shen Zhi Shu falters in his sense of duty for just a moment, as his eyes start to close, and then he senses the Star Of Return passing through his spiritual sight and then he frantically screams.

"Garadiel. . . Celestan. . . NOOO" As Shen Zhi Shu protests at his would-be doctors Garadiel and Celestan, the powerful magic of Shen Zhi Shu's voice knocked both of them down, preventing them from acting for just a moment. Shen Zhi Shu stood up, bleeding what seemed to be lethal wounds as he stared at his family for one last time. Shen Zhi Shu utters his final farewell,"I will not stand by as a patient in this Fortress as that evil thing destroys my family, my people, and my daughter.' Shen Zhi Shu came prepared to the battle, knowing that perhaps he would be struck down. He transformed into his name-sake, the Pheonix. Just then, a mysterious force from Shen Zhi Shu emanated from his mystical, arcane form. Shen Zhi Shu soared straight into Yen Lo Wang, this Returning King.

Shen Zhi Shu stared into the Returning King as a humanoid shadow, inside the massive Pheonix. Shen Zhi Shu's shadow motioned with his hands. . . toward's Yen Lo Wang's eye. . . With all the force of Shen Zhi Shu's curse and power, he forced his enemy to face the pain of having his Eye torn out. "THAT WAS FOR FATHER!" The Pheonix roared.

Kaiser Omnik

2011-02-21, 11:35 AM

Celestan finally reached the courtyard, and Nari too. He approached her and gently took her hand.

"The aura you've weaved around yourself...the garments of Fortune. You've become so much more, Nari! You are the jewel of the gods."

But Garadiel's yell interrupted them.

"Uncle... is too far away! I have to get there, fast!"

Ten men and women wearing cardinal feathered cloaks gathered around Celestan and Nari.

"The Hierophants are here reporting for duty!"
"There are enough generals and healer out here."
"I believe you need a few helping hands, friend."
"We'll be much more useful joining forces with you!"
"Our spirits and hearts are one with yours, Celestan!"

The Fire God's Chosen each presented their obsidian arm to him.

"I never doubted you! You are the best of the best! Our bond is indestructible, even in Alrodores! Your strength is mine, and my strength is yours! Oh, how much I love you, all of you!"

Celestan and the Hierophants stood in a circle, sheated in holy flames.

"What we need...is a ride!"
"Our burning spirit is all we need, in fact!"
"We will take flight, on the wings of liberty and hope!"
"Watch out you foul Tyrant!"
"You have met your match!"
"Behold the true form of these defenders' resolve!"
"Transform!"

The flames turned into a hurricane, and for a time the mortal legions watched in awe, barely able to withstand the divine surge of power. Then, the winds cleared, and emerged in the Chosen and Celestan's place, a magnificent dragon, with claws and armor plates of orichalcum, obsidian skin and a crimson coat of feathers. The pure essence of fire, passion and youth coursed through his veins.

"Who the hell do they think we are?!?

Nari, you may stay here or climb on my back; I am going to seek Shen and Garadiel!"

With a great sweep of its gigantic wings, the Dragon took flight and headed to the battlefield at increased speed.

1 major act to gain the Polymorphy ability
1 major act to make his Chosen also his Exarchs and to temporarily fuse with them

White Blade

2011-02-21, 11:42 AM

Garadiel had rushed out after Shen Shi Zhu thoughtlessly, only to do so again. It was getting a little redundant to the aging god's eyes. Now, a grand dragon that was unmistakably Celestan was beside him and he smiled at his nephew before lightly falling onto his nephew's oriachulm scales, Celestan, we must heal Shen. He is foolish and on the brink of death. he said

1 Ceremony offered to help heal Shen Shi Zhu.

Kaiser Omnik

2011-02-21, 11:58 AM

The Dragon appeared overheard, casting not a devouring and terrible shadow, but a blinding radiance.

"Right! HEALING INFUSION...EXPLOSION!!!"

A ring of divine runes surrounded the wounded god, which immediately burst into a cataclysmic flare of pure white flame; anyone bathed in this sacred fire was blessed by a surge of youthful energy. All Children of the Tree, that is; for the exiled abominations of the Horde of Dreamers, in their blasphemous nature, suffered greatly and fell in large numbers.

Major act spent on Shen to heal him, or at least keep him going a bit longer

White Blade

2011-02-21, 12:13 PM

Garadiel rests easily above his nephew's burning oriachulm form and he speaks to him and to his little brother with ease and to them only. Shen, take his front. Celestan, would you care to join me at the Once and Again King's back? I believe that if I can stab him with this blade, he may die but I will need your aid. Garadiel shifts quickly as is his nature, turning around and landing easily on the opposite side of the Once and Again King as Shen Shi Zhu, he drapes himself in aether for a garment and slams bolts of heaven's wrath upon the lesser servants of the Once and Again King, though they seem infinite in number. His army floats about him, driving back the host of the Mad Dreamer.

Jair Barik

2011-02-21, 12:28 PM

To the tree he travelled. He had thought he would need to interject in the issue of his son, but that was resolved now in a manner most acceptable. The sins he had commited to the world were still great, but then his own sins had begotten the child that had slain the mountains with a blow from his sword. He could feel it coming, the end of times, and he accepted oblivion. Oblivion for himself, but not for his family. There was still hope that the world could be saved. Hope that burnt in the souls of the family or Rognir. He would not tell Faolan the secrets of his father, it was better he felt that his son did not need to bare any guilt of the fathers actions.

The army of Orgo was gone, the last of the lycanthropes dead upon the plains in these last battles. His own soul at last was at peace with itself, the terms Orgo and Nara rendered meaningless, simple words that described opposite faces of the same coin. But what action should he take now? One half the bloodthirsty warrior, the other the strict pacifist, what would they do when brought back together? They would pray, pray at the base of the world tree. Stand defiant should the enemies of creation reach that place where creation spread its roots and if need be he would die, die and let his lefesblood pour into the soil to make it fertile for a new tree to grow, should the old one fall. Long he had dwelt upon this idea. he could make seeds to produce rivers, lakes, islands, even whole continents, but the power to make a world eluded him. In each case a sacrifice of power had been required to bring new land into creation so in this case perhaps the sacrifice would not simply be of power, but of life itself, of being. To surrender onself into nothing so that others may live.

Raz_Fox

2011-02-21, 02:32 PM

Pitched Battle Upon The Plain Of Accursed Negeb; Death Unto The God Who Stands Enshrined In Flame

When one strikes, one opens the door for a retaliation. There is a moment where there is simply fire, and shadow, and blood, and then the fires of Shen Zhi Shu die down, leaving the Once And Again King standing above Shen. Though there is now nothing but leaping green fire within the Once And Again King's empty left socket, Shen's throat has been ripped open, letting the fresh blood spill forth.

But then the fires of Celestan's circle roar into life, and the Once And Again King leaps back nimbly, turning to Garadiel. With but a snap of his fingers, the spear that lay discarded by Shen is returned to his hand by one of his host. "Ah, to see such fires leaping within the breast of the war-god's child - truly, this could not be foreseen. But come, you have not succeeded, nor shall you. I know every spell that could wing its way onto your soft lips, and every blade that you could hope to bring to bear in the hunt against this wolf. Behold! Around your body arrays the forgotten and the lost, and they are innumerable - better to count the sand beneath the waves, than to count their numbers. They do not fight for simple memories, but for their right to exist. Avaunt! Let us duel, you and I, upon this fruitful and useful plain."

Now's your chance, Armin.

The Walls of the Fortress; The Scarred Prodigal Returns For A Family Reunion

He comes upon the wall, a spinning whirlwind of red steel. He knocks aside the swords of those who stand on watch, blowing them back off the ramparts, easily ducking their blows. And those of Garadiel's host who would seek to stop him - they are too slow to land a hit upon the man who cuts the air itself apart with his blows.

ArlEammon

2011-02-21, 02:44 PM

Shen Zhi Shu's Chance
Shen Zhi Shu noticed as he was bleeding that his now dismal, but sometimes glorious and happy world was running out of time. Not years, not days, not minutes, but seconds. . . Shen Zhi Shu crawled, grabbing Yen Lo Wang's heel. Shen Zhi Shu spoke, mystically, despite having his throat torn open, he was going to give The Once And Again King something to remember him by. The mystical words of power poured from Shen Zhi Shu's mouth like water, as did his blood. Yen Lo Wang noticed that Shen Zhi Shu's blood was glowing a mysterious green. Shen Zhi Shu's blood was transforming into an undeniable source of Soul Fire. As Shen Zhi Shu's divine ichor spilled from his body, the Fire of Himiko also burned. . . Fire rained down on the battlements, destroying minions of the Returning King. However, Himiko in particular was effected tremendously. . .The purifying fire of Himiko restored her to herself. . . She heard Shen Zhi Shu's dying wish. . . "Flee, my daughter, to the Fortress" Meanwhile, Garadiel and Celestan also heard Shen Zhi Shu's Last request. . . "Protect my daughter and my friend, Chei (Himiko)". Shen Zhi Shu grinned mischeviously into Yen Lo Wang's eyes.

The Once And Again King was now facing a threat. . . He knew that Shen Zhi Shu was going to do something desperate, drastic, and long-lasting. He only had a moment to kill him before the spell was conjured. Therefore Yen Lo Wang, that is, the future King, cut Shen Zhi Shu's head off. . . In swift motion . . .he desperately tried to stop the spell from conjuring it'self. But it was too late. Shen Zhi Shu's body exploded. Not in a harmful sense, but in a strange, undeniably hopeful aura. All the gods felt that Shen Zhi Shu was with them. Shen Zhi Shu died. This time he was gone. The spell of Shen Zhi Shu gave all the gods incredible strength and power from his sacrifice.

The head of Shen Zhi Shu levitated into the air. . . staring Yen Lo Wang in the face.

"Ah yes, Once and Again King. You will never have the Tree. While I yet curse you. Not until you kill my family will you be able to truely kill me. . And the Tree will be against you it'self. You are DOOMED."

Shen Zhi Shu's Spell
All of Shen Zhi Shu's remaining 7 Major Acts, 7 Minor Acts, and he's going into as many Negative Acts as the GM will allow. To further make the spell stronger, Shen Zhi Shu sacrifices his life force to empower the spell, all of it. The Fire of Himiko at the Shrine of Himiko has died out to empower the spell, and Shen Zhi Shu sacrifices the Vengeance portfolio, and the mark of Rognir has also departed.

Ceremony
3 Ceremonies also spent for Rognir's Children (The God Channel, which strengthens all the gods)

White Blade

2011-02-21, 04:41 PM

Garadiel leaps downward toward the Once and Again King immediately, hopefully before the Mad Dreamer can recover from his brother's sacrifice. His fall is swift and mighty like a meteor's strike and in his hand is the blade that once rendered up Calantha's blood. It cuts through three of the host that live in the sky and their bodies lie discarded beneath Garadiel. He hurls downward, his arms raised for a forceful cut, aiming for the heart of his enemy.

When he grows close enough, he swings, praying to avoid the wrath of his enemy's spear.

Kaiser Omnik

2011-02-21, 04:57 PM

The Dragon landed to the other side of the Once and Again King, blasting countless abominations away merely with the strength of its wings. It roared immensely loud at Shen's final sacrifice; a yell full of pain but also of pride and fiery resolve, to continue the fight in the name of Celestan's uncle.

"Your knowledge of all past worlds, of sources of unimaginable power, will not serve you, useless Tyrant! What you miss is of critical significance! You don't know US! The hunger that drives you has now nothing in common with the fire which burns in our entrails! You don't fight for the right for your souls to exist - you fight because in your pride you are incapable of conceiving endings and new beginnings. If you succeed, all borders of sanity will fall, and nothing will ever be recognizable. By allowing all possible dreams to take form, all struggles will be in vein; if everything exists simultaneously, nothing and no one can ever shine! There can be no meaning. Because without conflict, without things to struggle for besides oneself and one's insane desires, the true potential of Life - Life which grows, Life which is proprely cared after, Life in hardship as well as in moments of peace, Life in its possibility for redemption and salvation - this potential will never develop, buried under pain and instant gratification, and dreams without any anchors in reality.

This pride you rely on, you are not the first one to display it, are you? It failed the Darkness in the Time before Time, long, long ago. And once again Life will succeed and endure. Because there is nothing as ancient and stable as the World Tree, but also no one as devoted as us! The World Tree needs us, just as we need It. Thus forms an unbreakable chain. The skin of A'gap was just the surface - now you must face ALL the Living and the Dead who are part of this chain, and their will to defend...not merely their lives, but Life itself!"

The Dragon furiously lashed in the direction of the Once and Again King with whips of flame which extended from his claws. It speech was heard as far as the Fortress Gates, and among the mortals assembled there, Sun stood up, the light returning to her eyes.

TheDarkDM

2011-02-21, 07:25 PM

The Walls of the Fortress; The Scarred Prodigal Returns For A Family Reunion

Heradi's wrath had rendered the walls of the Fortress of the Gods little more than an inconvenience. Even as his cousins engaged the once and Again King, Faolan's hunters' eyes caught the blur of crimson to the Northwest, unnoticed by all others amid the howling charge of the Great Wolf and the thunderous beat of the Once and Again King's coming. So fast was the murderous god in his approach that as soon as Faolan caught sight of him he was sprinting up the sides of the Fortress.

Heradi passed through the guards as wind passes through wheat, brushing them aside without diminishing his speed. With a flash, two of Celestan's faithful fell, their throats cut. Another moment, and a trio of Nari's people had been cut to ribbons. Heradi was remorseless in his climb through the Fortress, his gaze set on the high branches that towered over even the Fortress of the Gods. Indeed, the fruit was almost within reach when Heradi felt an iron grasp close around his collar before he was throws to his feet from the heights of the fortress onto the ground below.

As Heradi impacted the solid stone at the Fortress' foundation, Faolan followed, landing with a trembling crash that was redirected towards Heradi. Spike of stone erupted from the ground around the dazed murderer, impaling him on shards of rock that Faolan knew only too well would be only a minor inconvenience. Standing away from the rapidly recovering god, Faolan straightened to his full height, his body smooth and lithe for the first time in centuries.

"Heradi. How is it that every time we have an apocalypse on our hands you seem to be playing the pawn? I'd have thought the terrible god of Speed would have more pride. Regardless, if your intention is to take the fruit of the Tree, I am afraid you will fail."

As Faolan spoke, a liquid thread of silvery clarity rose from the crater of his impact, diamond turned to water by the strength of Faolan's will. Solidifying again around his body, the diamond formed a suit of gleaming armor around Faolan, its dark surface gleaming with a multitude of stars. Holding out his hand, Faolan summoned the Blade of Judgement to his hand.

"Because I will stop you."

With that, Faolan charged at Heradi, sweeping his blade in a devastating strike.

Actions Taken

1 Major Act: Create the Twilight Armor. Composed of solid diamond, the Twilight Armor moves as liquid in accordance to Faolan's motion, but provides unmatched protection against blows.

2 Major Acts: Increase the Justice and Earth Domains by one.

Raz_Fox

2011-02-21, 09:57 PM

On The Accursed Plain Of Negeb; The Dragon And The Psychopomp Exchange Pleasantries With A Mad Entity

Last Resort meets the King's Spear, with such a force that it seems that the world itself must be shaking apart! Again, and again, and again they meet, and though Garadiel is one of the mightiest gods to walk the earth, even though his blade was destined for this moment, The Once And Again King is better. He seems to derive some perverse enjoyment from the battle, using his spear in ways that no mortal master of the blade could even dream of doing.

"Garadiel," she says to him. She stands there in his mind's eye, sad and bloody. "Why did you let the half-breed kill me? Why didn't you come and see me?"

He roars in delight, and Garadiel is brought back to the field in time to dance aside, losing only the tip of his ear's lobe to the spear's blade. But The Once And Again King has dealt the first blood, and he is not tiring - the opposite, in fact. His grin stretches from ear to ear, and the fires in his skull burn brightly.

Meanwhile, They Who Waited Beyond swarm the mighty dragon of fire, ignoring the incineration of their skin as they assault the beast that Celestan has become. It is as useless as the bites of ants - but even ants can slay the strongest man, given enough time and ants. They whisper blasphemous words, words that have no place in this existence, and their touch blackens the white fires of Celestan.

We will end death, they say. No more oblivion. No more endless cycles. Just eternity of sensation.

The Wolf And The Red-Coated God; A Duel Within The Courtyard Of The Fortress Divine

Heradi flips back in a blur of red, leaving scraps of red coat and rotting skin behind, and the sword strikes empty stone. Faolan is not so green that such a move would throw him off, and he reverses the strike, seeking Heradi's throat.

Heradi doesn't even move perceptibly - one moment, he was there, and the next he stands on Faolan's right, away from the sword. "Laugh while you can, wolf's spawn. No one can stop me now - today," he says, as he dodges yet another furious barrage of sword-blows, hammering at the Twilight Armor with his knives, "Today I get what I always deserved. And you're not going to stop me. No one is going to stop me."

One moment, he stands before Faolan, and the next he stands thirty yards off. He flicks three knives from his sleeve, and throws them. They hits Faolan butt-first, at such speed that together the impact knocks him from his feet and into the wall behind him. The Twilight Armor is unbroken, but Faolan's ribs groan in protest. Heradi begins a barrage of knives, each one moving almost as swiftly as he does.

White Blade

2011-02-21, 10:17 PM

The shade and shadow are dark and fierce. It is hard for Garadiel to hold his mind. So he steps back a few paces and the battlefield extends between him and the former king. It is clear that his blade shall do him no good and he knows it. He is not yet that apt with the blade and besides, he has no use for it if it cannot claim his foe's life. But he has long dealt with the lost and the lonely, and long has he counseled the empty hearted, the tired and the weary.

So he forgets for a moment the ways of war and remembers that day long ago, when he was like those who stand against him. When he thought that death was darkness, when he worried that sleep was pain. In so remembering, he conjures the strength of all the lessons he has learned since then. And he speaks of them, the lesson he learned beneath the World Tree, the day he walked with his father, and the immense tiredness that has crept upon him with age.

Seeping into the mind of all those maddened heart come the words of Garadiel, clarion clear and unspeakably wise See that death is sleeping and life is waking. See that death is gaining and life is spending. See that to spend and spend forever is to burn in torment for all of eternity. See, and do not merely glance, but gaze.

There is a place for you to rest and a place for you to rise again in the courts of my family, all you lost and lonely host. You need not choose between oblivion and hellfire. Join us, drink anew and rest awhile in our house. Learn a new life, both different and better than this one, where your master would have you dwell in the cold for his vain crusade. Garadiel's army is drawing back to the fortress behind him and he becomes increasingly alone on the battlefield.

1 Minor Act to make sure the all of the massive army hears it. Garadiel's offer is plain and sincere and his sanity is moderately contagious thanks to True Speech.

TheDarkDM

2011-02-21, 10:50 PM

The Wolf And The Red-Coated God; A Duel Within The Courtyard Of The Fortress Divine

Rising from the dented wall behind him, Faolan attempted to ward off the coming barrage with his blade. But for every dagger he managed to knock aside, a dozen more found their mark, chipping away at his armor. Worse still, a few flew true at his unarmored face, and it was but the reflexes of his namesake that saved him from a lost eye. Faolan tried to stand, yet for every step forward he was forced back three, the withering rain of steel taking its toll on him. Then, with a victorious cry Heradi launched a dagger directly at Faolan's neck, intent on beheading the Wolf Lord.

Time seemed to slow as Faolan saw the deadly blade approach, closing the distance faster than even he could bring his blade to deflect it. Yet, even as his heart hammered with the effort of the battle he felt a trace of whisper at the edge of hearing. In his sight, spectral forms began to manifest around his sword arm, pushing it beyond its natural capacity to meet Heradi's blade at the optimal angle. With a metallic clang, the dagger was sent spinning through the air back at Heradi, impacting the shocked god's chest with all the force that he and Faolan could muster together and sending him to the ground.

With a flourish, Faolan set his blade in the ready position, and as he did so the multitude of fractures and chinks caused by Heradi's daggers melted away. White fire roared to life in his amber eyes, and ever Heradi could see the legion of spirits twining around his body, joining with the Twilight Armor until it seemed that all of Faolan was ablaze with luminous white light.

"Uncle, I disagree. You may be mighty, and fierce, but not even you can stand against the unified force of the vengeful. On this day, you will receive your just punishment."

Faolan charged forward, and as Heradi's barrage began anew he moved with a new fluidity, a new preternatural grace. His reactions were so fast that even Heradi had difficulty in following them, as every thrown dagger was knocked aside, whether back at Heradi or harmlessly into the ground. And with every step Faolan took, the ground around the Red-Coated God exploded into stinging shards.

Actions Used

1 Major Act: Gain Ability Arm of the Silent Host. Through his connection to the spirits of the wronged and the vengeful, Faolan hears the whispers of some of the most skilled combatants in history. Channeling these spirits, he gains preternatural agility and precision as his limbs are guided by the composite experience of thousands of warriors. While he cannot match Heradi in movement speed, he can react to the evil god's attacks.

Kasanip

2011-02-22, 03:05 AM

Nari

Celestan took Nari's hands, and he felt a great feeling of joy as she looked into his eyes.
She smiled. It was the smile of a child who wanted to be brave. And it was the smile of a younger sister who had admiration for him. But it was also the smile of the Goddess of Fortune, and she squeezed his hands gently too.

"I finally know where I belong, big brother." She said. And these words also sparkled like jewels, because it was the first time she had called Celestan this, who had always been both dear to her, and yet someone of a different time, far above.

So not to distract the servants of Celestan, Nari stood quietly and watched, until her brother had become a magnificent dragon of armor and fire. But she shook her head softly.

No, it was dangerous to send Victory into the presence of their enemy. She was the Herald of a New Age, and could not let herself be taken by the foe. She did not want to be a herald for that age, but for an Age of her family. Victory would be here at this Fortress of the Gods, and Victory perhaps would be at the World Tree, though that future she could not see yet.

"I will be here." She answered. "Be safe, Celestan." She implored as he flew to the aid of Shen and Garadiel.

The Trio of Toukoku face a Wolf

Ya-un-Kurumi, Tengu Oneclaw, and Myoan of the Emiyu stood together now as the howling wolf came in it's agony.

Myoan who had long ago seen the battles of the gods remembered well her people's circling fate. And here like that, the ring she wore gave her the form her people had worn in that time- the first dragons- the Emiyu. A people who had known the time before this Age, and alone of the mortals had survived the time of Rognir's war days. Those wars had been bitter, but Myoan had the wisdom of her people with her.

Ya-un-Kurumi saw this wolf, and truly like a hunter he pulled his bow. Everything of the Shiuk was to be like this. Ya-un-Kurumi alone of them could remember Raia in her youth, when she had ridden beside him and looked fondly on him. He alone had matched her bowshot in skill, and had fought so many battles beside her. There was no fear here of the wolf, for it was not as fearsome as Ateris, and not as dangerous as a traitor's shadow.

Tengu Oneclaw was king of the Tengu. He had once ruled alone as lord of the Iuvenis lands. And he alone had wrestled with the Goddess of War, and being defeated stood beside her, and now served Nari who had returned him. In his hands he held the broken sword Tetsuzou, which he had once wielded, and which had come to the Goddess of War's hand before it was once more in his. Here beside Ya-un-Kurumi he delighted in this challenge. The tengu were greater than any wolf, and Oneclaw was greater than any tengu.

Together they came to the wolf.

Nari - Victory on the Fortress Wall

Now Nari was alone again, and yet surrounded by the soldiers who were not in Garadiel's force. And she stood on the wall as the darkness and fire in the distance danced.

She felt Shen's disappearing fire, even as greater warmth burned in her.

And now another had come, one who had desired Victory for a long time, and who had once before met her in a different life. So the second circle might close with the first. But Faolan met him first and now the two fought as the child goddess watched over the fortress.

Acts

1 Minor Act: Fortune and Victory to the Trio of Toukoku!

The_Snark

2011-02-22, 07:11 AM

At the Shattered Wall

The serpent's skin cracked beneath the knife. A thousand years of wind and endless fire have parched even mighty A'gap's scales, and beneath the weight of those black words they began to crumble. Dust dripped from the old scars like blood, and turned at once to motes of fire in the baleful heat. Then with a crash! the spell that held back the drums fell away, and the wall was rent asunder. Through the gap stepped a king.

No stranger to kings, Lilike! She knew the Five Princes of the Far West, and by her subtle hand was each in turn brought low; she stood before the god of death with his burning eyes and did not bend knee; in her youth she learned the lore of magic from the Lord of Night himself. Yet this king surpassed them them all. He was beautiful and terrible, cruel and kind, majestic and monstrous, and a thousand other things besides; all the qualities of kingliness were in his features, and all other qualities as well. At the sight of him Lilike fell in love, but also feared him, and hated him, and worshiped and envied him, all at once.

With gentle fangs the King laid a kiss upon her brow, and she trembled; such was the storm within her breast that she could not say whether it was from love or fear or hate. Her heart soared and then fell as the Once and Again King plucked the moon from the sky only to crush it between thumb and forefinger, for the moon had long been her guide and companion, and for an instant she had harbored the wild hope that he intended it as a gift for her. But that was not to be, and she felt a pang of loss, both for the moon's passing and the death of that infant hope. It would have been a grand thing to have the moon, and a still grander one to have someone who would give it to her.

But the way was open; a thing has been set in motion that cannot be halted, even if she so wished. Did she? She could feel the world sliding into death's dark embrace, and knew that all things would be different from this day forth; a new world dawned, perhaps glorious, perhaps terrible, above all utterly unknown.

But then, this world held precious few things that she still loved, and the King's promise shone when she looked at his face; at any rate she had made her choice already. So Lilike swallowed disappointment and cast aside grief, and bent her neck to the Once and Again King with a smile upon her face. "You honor me, o King. Gladly will I ride in your vanguard, for those who will stand in your path have long been my foes, and I should like to see them broken before your host. All that you would ask of me is yours."

Upon the Accursed Plains of Negeb

As the battle was joined Lilike remained apart; her strength did not lie in force of arms, and the King's host was vast beyond belief, and so she judged it best to let their claws and beaks and glittering ephemera break upon the fortress and shatter its strength first. As they surged forth she reined in her mount, a thing conjured from twigs and night vapours, and she watched. The god she knew as the Staff came forth to confront the Once and Again King and was beaten back time and time; the Torch came forth, yes, surely that bright light could be no other, and—

A voice she knew. Well she remembered it; the True Speech once etched into memory can never be dulled. Before that peerless eloquence of meaning, even the most mad and unthinking among the host were forced to bide a moment and listen, and she sensed confusion like a wave spreading from the Wanderer, from the god who claimed life and death.

"They have supped from the cup of mortality already, and found it wanting, Garadiel." Her voice rang loud, and if it lacked the perfect truth of the god's words, it had an enrapturing quality all its own. Always she had known the right words to sow division and strife, the right place to drive the knife home, and now she put that talent to use. A soft and melodious vitriol coursed through the Host, and armoured them against the blandishments of their foes. "They have existed a span of time uncounted outside the Wall, cold and starving while you feast on the fruits of existence. Are they to forget what you have denied them? Roll over and die at your words? Give up and cease to be, just as the rewards of that long struggle are within sight?"

"Generous of you to invite them in now that the door is open and you cannot close it, lord." She spoke lower now, her words for the god's ears rather than the host. "One cannot help but wonder: where was your charity a day ago? A month? A year? Do not pretend to be their friend, uncle mine. Dishonesty does not suit you."

TheDarkDM

2011-02-22, 08:20 AM

The Witch of Night meets the Lady of the Moon (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0J-P582AkRg)

As Lilike concluded her speech and the host of the Once and Again King stirred from its temporary torpor, a shiver passed along the plains of Negeb. It was not wind, and neither chill, nor whispered speech. Yet still, the sliding echo resonated in the very sky itself, sliding down closer, ever closer, to the blasphemous ground upon which Lilike walked. Then, with all the impact of dying light and newly awakened rage and arrow shot through her divine shoulder, red fletched and tipped with the scales of a beast beyond even her ken.

Far away, atop the tallest spire of the Fortress of the Gods stood a radiant figure, her silver hair unfurled and whipping about her. From her flesh shone the light of the destroyed moon, and in her indigo eyes Eithne had a target for her rage, a traitor to family, clan, and world. Griping the bow crafted by Eridi so many years ago, she took aim again, and sent another dragon's fang speeding towards Lilike's breast. This time, it was not a whisper that heralded the arrow, but a roar, carrying Eithne's voice across the entire expanse of the South.

"Silence, witch! Do not besmirch our ears with your treasonous tongue. You would dare to lecture us on the nature of mercy, you who have for sake of hate alone allowed the enemies of existence a foothold in our world? Nay, I say! Uncles, be not swayed by her insidious perfidy, for behind her flowered words lies the heart of a serpent and the cold intent of the savage!"

Then came the arrow, an impossible shot launched by a new risen goddess, flush with the powers of a new birth. For even in the destruction of the sun and moon there was hope, as the divine light of the herald of night had fled to its mortal vessel. And now Eithne stood as a beacon to match Celestan's sun, night and day joined together against the oncoming horde of endless nightmare.

Actions Taken

Eithne ascends to godhood with one rank in the Moon Domain and the Ranged Combat Ability.

White Blade

2011-02-22, 10:34 AM

Garadiel rolled his eyes at both of his nieces, as if they clearly understood nothing. We the gods shall win this day, as our father did millenia ago. You can go to the empty, mindless cold or you can join us and find a place in our coming world. Those are the only options. He announced proudly, Be wary of this one, Former King, for she will place you on the throne and murder you there. The knife she carries has claimed both world and bloodkin and was whetted on the day Rognir fell.

Raz_Fox

2011-02-22, 01:25 PM

On The Accursed Plain Of Negeb; The Dragon And The Psychopomp Exchange Pleasantries With A Mad Entity

The Once And Again King laughs, laughs loud and hard and long. "You know nothing of the day before, wand'ring god. Sixteen there were, bright-helmed and bright-souled, their swords puissant and their axes keen; Rognir was the only one who stood before the tree by day's end. One by one, end by end, they all fell - and in their ranks stood Kethari, the General Crimson, and Horvase, the Storming Hammer, who would have crushed you into dust with but a blow. I tell you truth this moment: a hundred gods have I slain, and a hundred more have I executed. You are not special. You are not unique - you are but the most petty, ragged host I have ever marched against. Who stands before me, but six weak gods? We are endless, and we are so hungry for that which has been taken from us, and against us there can be no victory - unless, perhaps, you take of the tree yourselves. But this shall not come to pass - thus says The Once And Again King. My reign shall be once more, this very hour, this very day. Hear my words and know them to be true!"

He seems to stand taller, now, and his gray-silver cloak moves unsettlingly without wind. Within it can be glimpsed- let us speak not of what is visible there, only that it reflects the mad conqueror who stands there.

"This offer I give to you, for let none say that I am not ever-suffering, ever-gracious. Lay down your weapons, and fall to your knees!" His voice, like so many of the gods this day, can be heard from the broken skin of A'gap to the Fortress itself. "You shall be spared, and enter into the blessed world that I shall make. Hear my words and know them to be true! Those that stand against me will meet only what they would plot for me, while those who fight not are blessed beyond divinity!"

And the Host marches on, staring hungrily at the Tree.

The Wolf And The Red-Coated God; A Duel Within The Courtyard Of The Fortress Divine

Heradi continues to run backwards as he throws his knives, until he finally stops with his back to the wall, watching wide-eyed as Faolan advances on him. Then he looks up and grins.

"So what if you're cheating? I'm not playing your game." In a moment, he's around Faolan, charging back up the walls, up to the highest spire of the fortress, where silver-haired Eithne fires across the sea to spite the Dreaming Host.

Only one god is swift enough to run straight up the sheer walls; Heradi's tricks are not yet done.

To Slay The Most Ancient Beast - The Three Exarchs Realize What Must Be Done

Oh, the wolf. Its eyes are the size of lakes, its teeth mountains, its long legs taller than the tallest trees. To strike at it would be folly.

And yet, these three are the bravest of all who stood from Iuvenis, and these three knew Raia, radiant lady of war. They could slay the beast. But as they look up, crossing over the north sea towards the broken continent of Givreterre, they know this: that to even have a hope of slaying it, they must give up their own lives without fear.

White Blade

2011-02-22, 02:17 PM

Garadiel flies from the battlefield and lands beside Verdant and Jorian, his eyes fierce as he stands beside his son and gazes at Heradi. It would be easy enough to handle that threat, he hoped. He turns his eyes to Verdant and grasps him in a tight embrace for a moment before looking at him, You didn't get the sword. he remarks, almost mild and conversational. Would you like to borrow mine?

Jair Barik

2011-02-22, 05:24 PM

TheDarkDM

2011-02-22, 05:36 PM

The Wolf And The Red-Coated God; A Duel Within The Courtyard Of The Fortress Divine

Watching Heradi speed up the walls of the Fortress, Faolan could not help but be enraptured by Eithne. So invested had he been in the battle with Heradi that he had not heard his daughters pronouncement of judgement upon Lilike, had not felt the flare of divine power from atop the tower. Now, her light shone brightly in his eyes, and his chest swelled with pride. But then the red flash intruded on the periphery of his vision, and Faolan snapped back to reality.

"Eithne! Below you!"

Smooth as silk, Eithne swiveled with bow drawn and sent a silver streak towards the blur that was Heradi. But what was an arrow, even a divine arrow, to the God of Speed? Its meteoric fall was little faster then drooping molasses in his eyes, and it was a simple thing to dodge the oncoming projectile. Eithne fired again, and again, only for every shot to be easily dodged. In seconds, she could see the madness in Heradi's eyes, and it seemed inevitable that his daggers would find their mark in her before a rumble went through the entire structure.

Below them, Faolan set his feet upon the courtyard of the Fortress, sending his energy through the tower. He felt every step taken by the mad god, for was it not his craft that had summoned orichalcum from the ground to wrap around the frame of the divine Sword. None could tell as Faolan's will overcame the walls, until Heradi passed the point of no return. Like wax, great blades emerged from the sides of the tower, flying towards Heradi at a terrible speed. So close were they that not even he could dodge them all, and as he was struck his left foot and right arm were sheared away, sending him crashing to the ground, twisted razors scattered about him.

As Heradi began to regenerate, Faolan leapt atop the tangled mass of metal and flesh and thrust his hand into Heradi's chest, grasping at the empty space where his heart once lay.

"If you think that was cheating uncle, you have a rather poor opinion of me. Let me show you what I can really do!"

And then Faolan was elsewhere, following the phantom beat of Heradi's absent heart through the earth, back towards the source. Through earth and water his perception flew, past the lands of Rognir's Children, towards a small island shrouded in mist. There, atop a runic circle carved into the living stone by dark craft, lay Heradi's heart, furiously pumping. There, behind the walls of magic and mist, the heart was inviolate, unreachable by all save the lord of that dark place. But beneath the island, underneath the walls of arcane fog, was earth. Reaching deep into the roots of the earth, past the soft rock, Faolan felt the flows of fire and liquid earth that had been his highway so many years ago. The flow was as different from water as water had been from earth, but there was still a flow, a churning wrath greater than any storm and weightier than any surface quake. Grasping the flow, Faolan forced it upwards, pressing against stone that gave way before his will.

Within the stronghold that guarded Heradi's heart, a infinitesimal crack appeared in the flagstones. For a moment, it seemed as though nothing had happened, until a massive, shaking crack split the earth open. It was followed by more fissures, belching smoke and fire, spilling lava towards the heart. At first, the runic wall held, crafted by the might of a sorcerer of the divine, until another tremor caused a crack in the stone beneath it. It's clean lines disturbed, the runic circle began to flicker and fade, before with one final push the flaming heart of the world burst to the surface. In a great conflagration, the mists shrouding the island were set ablaze, and Heradi's black heart was engulfed in primordial fire.

Actions Used

1 Major Act: Gain the Fire Mastery Ability.

1 Minor Action: Raise a new volcano beneath the stronghold of the Raven King (or wherever the heart of Heradi happens to be).

White Blade

2011-02-22, 05:47 PM

Garadiel rushes over to where Heradi lies and stares at his mangled form, waiting, watching for Heradi's soul so that it doesn't slip his grasp again. No, this time there would be no option. He would MAKE Heradi be reborn if he had to. There had been quiet enough of this. Quiet enough of Heradi for this or any other world.

ArlEammon

2011-02-22, 06:35 PM

Placing one hand gently upon the bark of the world tree Nara stared at it, stared into the soul of the world.

"What would you have me do? I feel your pain, feel your suffering, I know you are within your death throes, soon your time will be up and this world, one way or another shall come to an end. Perhaps... perhaps it is as it was when last you were threatened, perhaps the answer is simply to stand and accept our enemy as our friend. Or perhaps not."

With a single movement he withdraw his flesh from the tree. And tapped the end of his staff against it.

"Perhaps the answer is destruction. Perhaps it is not the enemy who shall cast you down but us. If we were to strike you in twain and sunder your roots would that save creation from a darker fate? To end you and build a new creation in place devoid of our enemies? Once this staff was an axe. What if it could now strike you down in but a single blow? This is not rhetorical, I ask you tree, and I expect an answer."

Shen Zhi Shu
The name of Shen Zhi Shu was on the Roots of the Tree. . . Nara could hear the voice of Shen Zhi Shu within it speaking to him. "Nara, brother. . . The Tree does not wish that the Wolf kill it before the Seed is ripe. It says that you must fight Yen Lo Wang, the Once And Again Future King. You must take the Seed after the battle, Create with it, and let it be reborn." Nara could have sword he saw Shen Zhi Shu standing in front of him, as he saw the characters on the Roots of the Tree. The Tree must survive the Wolf, the Once And Again King, and it must be reborn. Please, for the sake of all, and my memory, you must join the battle."

Kaiser Omnik

2011-02-22, 08:34 PM

The World is not Ended Yet! (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ISzK6e237II&feature=related)

With a burst of strength, the exhausted Dragon threw a large number of the King's abominations in a nearby canyon. But there was no time to escape, as he was immediately overwhelmed again...until another bright star appeared his way, launching itself at the Dragon's assailants. Looking up, he saw the fragile Sun, wearing a halo of radiance and new wings of flame. The Firelord took the opportunity to fly away alongside his pupil.

"I am sorry! So sorry! My time on this world was always counted, but I did not want to accept it! But now, after all this, this catastrophe that I helped unleash... I come back to you to fulfill my destiny. Again, like in old times?"

"Yes! Ever since the battle against the Fire General, and even before, we destroyed the chains of Man and shed the light on the truth of their hearts. Today, with your help, we might well make Truth triumph over the darkness of deceit and despair! Let's see how your insanity withstands this truth, Tyrant!"

Both the Dragon and the winged girl continued their ascension, straight up, far above the clouds. Once they approached the aether, the girl turned her body into a crystal globe and the Dragon, drawing from the pure essence of fire, ignited the new celestial body from one breath. Under the care of the Firelord, it suddenly grew. Beams of light pierced the heavens and reached down to the King's demented host, and many among them burst into holy flames, smitten by the divine Truth. ... But in order to achieve the creation of a new sun, a great deal more divine energy would be needed.

Once his deed was done, the Dragon bid farewell to Sun and headed back to the safety of the Fortress.

Ceremony to create the new Sun
Major act to gain the Truth domain

BTW, the new Sun is set high above the Fortress, and for now is unmoving. So if the Big Bad Wolf decides to eat this one two...he will be led to us. How great! :smallwink:

Raz_Fox

2011-02-22, 11:40 PM

Thus Passes Heradi, The Swiftest God, Son Of Rognir, Brother To None, Accursed And Alone At The End Of All Things

There is a horrid, painful moment, as Heradi's flailing fingers seek out softness, and flesh, and Faolan's eye yields as his bony fingers push into the socket, yielding a flow of blood and worse things-

And then his limbs have no power, crumbling back down, parts of Faolan's eye still sticking to his fingers. The hole in his chest begins to open, consuming rotting flesh, ancient yellowed bones, fine red coat, and Heradi exhales as his lungs crumble into ash. "Why? It's slowing... no more... let me-"

Then his head rests upon the cobbles, the faintest smile upon his lips as he is consumed. And a faint wind seems to blow, a last whisper of speed and endless energy, as Heradi, son of Rognir, father of the Raven King, finally catches up to oblivion.

On The Long Bridge To The Tree's Roots; A King Returns To The Field Of His Failures

And now, the host passes from Negeb along the sea, marching on the wide road. Now less than an endless sea, the host is still vast enough to make men tremble. But also, they think, maybe - we could battle it, and win, though only one man out of a hundred might survive the battle. They Who Waited Beyond hate the sun's rays, and as they march on their skin blisters and warps.

But the King rides proudly by Lilike, his head held high. And soon enough, they come within range of the walls. A furious barrage follows, They Who Waited Beyond swooping down upon the ramparts, firing unholy magics, and clambering up upon the walls.

The King himself comes to the very gates, placing his palm upon them, caring nothing for the wisps of smoke as his skin burns and is consumed at the touch.

The Eternal Hunger Rages Within The Belly Of Rognir's Beast

Another great wave crashes upon the walls of the Divine Fortress - the mighty wolf has descended once again into the sea. Now it comes, slavering, its burning, pained eyes fixed on a second sun. It knows only that is burning, and that this - this thing, this burning thing - is causing it pain. So it shall consume it! This is the logic of a wolf. Consume or die.

Genesis

On the high branches of the world tree, one bud finally blossoms. It seems to be a shining, beautiful peach, and beneath its skin spins so much energy, and hope. Hope is contained within this, the Seed of the World Tree.

And with that, the Tree groans, deep cracks running up its body, a reddening coming to its green leaves. It has given its life, to ensure Its rebirth. Now, It leaves the Seed to the gods.

Ascend.

The_Snark

2011-02-22, 11:58 PM

On the Accursed Plain of Negeb

Cold as moonlight was the shaft that bit Lilike's flesh, and she cried out. Yet though the archer's aim was faultless, her words missed their mark. Lilike had long been accustomed to hatred and bile, and these things now tempered her resolve, for it was much easier and more comfortable to hate someone who hated you in return.

The second arrow flew toward her unseen, but she knew it must come; Kylfa-Madur's daughter had learned her caution well. She made a sweeping gesture and cast the moonlight away from her in a thousand glittering shards; within the dark the arrow found no purchase. When light returned it illumined only the teeming horde of the Mad.

But a whisper found its way to Eithne's ears on the wind, and Lilike's voice wound its way out of whatever nothingness she had vanished to. "When even the serpent calls you cruel, you would be wise to listen."

"Yes, I hate you; why should I not? Your kin slew my father, after banishing him for long centuries to the desolate edge of the world. No doubt to you and yours this world is a grand place, full of beauty and wonder and worth defending; it is always so with rulers. To the helpless and the miserable and the dispossessed it is otherwise, and what seems right and proper to you is an act of monstrous selfishness to them."

"Let ownership of this world pass to another with grace, or assert your claim by right of naked force; but do not pretend to righteousness. Your right to the world was won with the blade, just as His shall be."

Then the new sun sprang into being, and Lilike was revealed in the air above the fortress; her steed had been twisted into the shape of an owl, which hovered in the sky with outstretched branch-wings as though it had been pinned to the sky. The moon's light shone on her face, and the sun on her hair.

White Blade

2011-02-23, 12:13 AM

And as the tree begins to bloom, Garadiel himself begins to transform. His form begins to transform, growing different. Mightier. Purer. The expression of the thing is difficult to reflect. His body burns white with the light of the aether just beneath and what was once the brand of the World Tree was simple black it is now splayed in every color in the sunrise. His hands grip the air and fire beside him. The Wolf is coming. The Host has come. This day, this world would be decided. One way or the other.

He touches the heights of the heavens and ascends to the peak of the stars, near to the highest branches of the world tree. But he does not come here to partake of the fruit. Not yet. There is still work to be done and he has no desire to win that throne alone. So he grasps the Aether about him and claims it. All of it. It is his, this glorious, wonderful thing. This place where all the elements meet and join. He is its god and he is a part of it.

The Aether above, where the stars dwell, is suddenly warped and yielding to his will. He looks down from it and sees his son, brave and proud. His many nephews and nieces, all strong and proud. His brother, standing beside the tree. How many had left his father's house never to return? And then the traitorous witch standing beneath him was cast into light by the sun.

His hand reaches out to his blade and he casts it down beside his son, For the Once and Again King, he indicates to his son. And then he turns down toward the witch. She draws too near. She stands on the brink and he will hold her back. Wyse, he says, and she knows he knew her father when he was young, and was his friend, and remembered him fondly enough to seek peace with him on the day when Ateris killed his own father. Made war on us. Not the reverse.

1 Major Act to gain Aether Union.
1 Major act to gain the Domain (Aether), which I finally feel like I've justified.

Kaiser Omnik

2011-02-23, 12:19 AM

The Fortress at Dawn

The Dragon flew in circles above the courtyard of the Fortress, its orichalcum scales shining in the light of the new sun; a light so pure, orange and yellow, heralding the dawn of a new Age...

Celestan mentally contacted his allies, his thoughts sounding as vibrant as usual, but at the same time determined and shaken:

"What do I see? The World Tree's leaves are red, its bark crackled! The time to choose is now! What of the Seed?! I am not ready to give up on this world, but...but... Can I leave the last defenders of Humanity to die alone to ensure the eventual salvation of their souls in another world? Or am I giving up my true ideals for the sake of power? Must it be One, or do we all embark on this journey? Is that the ultimate Truth? That the situation demands an unbearable choice?"

TheDarkDM

2011-02-23, 12:38 AM

The Wolf Meets a King Upon a Field of Fire (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yfmwZr4quKk&feature=related)

As Heradi thrust his jagged digits into his eye, Faolan did not flinch away, though the pain was as fire flowing from the wound. So intend was he in his purpose that even as Heradi lay immolated on the field, he did not retract his hand, for fear that the mad thing would return. All about him was silent and still, the din of battle passing round in reverence of fallen divinity. But then, a wolf's howl, and the voice of a forgotten King, and Faolan was thrust back into the real world once more. Through his remaining eye, he saw Celestan descend from the new sun, saw Garadiel flee from his failed entreaties. And though he could not see them, Faolan knew that their foes approached from two directions, flanking them is savagery and madness.

Tearing away a strip of crimson cloth from the remains of Heradi's coat, Faolan wrapped it around the pit of his useless eye and stood. Calling out to Celestan in a voice that was strangely calm, he pointed towards the approaching beast that was their sibling.

"Celestan, Garadiel! One of our siblings thrashes in pain on the horizon, tormented by the fires of a sun it neither recognized not cared for. Easing its suffering is a task that you were both intended for, my gentle cousins, but I have an audience with a King."

With that, Faolan was sucked downwards into the earth, with neither the timidity or concern he'd shown in the past. For what that flowed within the earth was beyond his control now? Ever deeper Faolan fell, through caverns undiscovered since the dawn of Rognir's age, until he struck the great magma flow that circled the world. Once, he had relied on a desperately thick shield to travel these ways, but now the flames and molten rock cradled him with gentle hands. Legs straight and his arms at his sides, Faolan pushed against the northwards flow, reshaping the very current of the world around him as he shot forward, beneath the host of the Once and Again King.

All across the world, the earth began to shake with the enormity of Faolan's action, the stone screeching against unexpected pressure. Yet Faolan maintained his pace, coming to a stop at a nexus of roiling flame. Without a word, he began to fly upwards, his coming preceded by a lance of white hot magma. The mountains of Negeb burst under the unexpected pressure, belching fire and ash over the host of the Once and Again King, and deep beneath the surface of the ocean the surface buckled and rose in an ever increasing wedge.

With a great burst of water, Faolan's spear of fire reached the surface, propelling ancient rock and silt into a rapidly expanding mountain that towered over the Greenmaw Islands. For a moment, the host of abominations looked upon the stony construct with curiosity, before its top exploded with all the fury that dwelt at the heart of the world. An avalanche of fire and molten rock poured down on the host of the Once and Again King, wolves of fire and darkness leading the rushing flow. Another explosion, and the ash cloud erupted into a lightning storm, striking down scores of the King's flying servants and buffeting the rest with red hot ash. And there, at the caldera of the new volcano, was Faolan, his posture still and calm. A third explosion, and wings of flame seemed to jump from Faolan's back as he opened his remaining eye, the white flame of his divine fury dwarfing even the apocalyptic conflagration around him. For a moment, cloaked as he was in darkness and bloody light, it appeared that Rognir himself had been reborn. But then he spoke, pointing the conjured Blade of Judgement straight at the twisted heart of the Once and Again King.

"Impressive words, oh mighty King, to use against an undertaker and a pacifist. But I am no quiet shepherd of mankind, no beacon or simple symbol. Are you willing to meet the blade of a true warrior, or has your time in the Beyond left you a coward as well as a madman?"

Actions Used

1 Major Act: Gain the Battle Incarnate Ability. Those who possess this ability have transcended beyond all others in their mastery of the arts of war. No simple training can prepare one to embody the dark poetry of battle - only experience against legendary foes can prepare one, each victory and defeat adding to a tapestry of violence and reflection that will blossom into an unmatched prowess, a peerless will, and an unshakable valor. Those that are led by such souls are driven to superhuman feats, and those that face them rarely last a few seconds before their mastery.

2 Minor Actions: Summon a big volcano to smite the host of the Once and Again King. And I mean really big. Krakatoa combined with Eyjafjallajökull big.

Caught Betwixt Sun and Moon

As Lilike was revealed by the iridescent light of the new sun, Eithne found her target and fired. How could she not, when Lilike's dark power stood as a black spot against the burning light. But Eithne's arrow was not alone, for as she fired so too did the remaining members of the Grey Watch, gathered around their eldest member for one last battle. Where once there had been thousands, now a scant two hundred remained, but amid the ranks of mortal kind they were the deadliest marksmen in creation. Every adamantine-tipped arrow flew straight and true, the Watchers bolstered by the divinity of their leader and the victory of their progenitor.

White Blade

2011-02-23, 12:47 AM

Garadiel watches in awe and something like horror as Faolan goes to meet the Once and Again King on the battlefield. He knows what he must do and directs the whole of his host to join Faolan on the field, shouting down to Verdant and Jorian, HELP HIM! with such force that it would stagger the strongest willed of mortalkind, He cannot stand alone, he needs help. He casts his eyes over the battlefield... Combative foolishness, really. He stares at Rognir's children and smiles. The Wolf is coming though, and his nephew has a point. He and Celestan are well suited to the task of healing. But the pressing issue of guarding the tree is also rather important.

Celestan! Do you think that you can handle the beast's pain? he asks urgently, wishing he had more time to think.

ArlEammon

2011-02-23, 12:51 AM

Kaiser Omnik

2011-02-23, 01:10 AM

The Dragon descended to the central spire and joined Nari. To her horror, the beast suddenly faded into smoke... But then Celestan and the 10 hierophants appeared alive and well from the cloud of smoke.

"My friends, please stay here with Nari and make sure to look after her as if she was the most important thing on this world. She probably is!"

Celestan turned into a fire ball which shot towards the unnamed wolf. Stopping a bit above the wolf's eyeline, at the edge of the island, the Everbright Lord took on the shape of a small cardinal bird. As he sensed the agonizing pain of the wolf from so close, Celestan found out he cared for it, and loved it as any other of his kin.

"I am so sorry for what you have to go through brother. Fire God Celestan, they call me. I suppose that if fire is troubling you, I can help. Fire does not have to be all consumming and painful. It can be appeased, too."

Celestan as a cardinal flew to the beast's forehead with exceptional speed and agility.

"Let my touch control the blaze that is inside you, please...!"

OOC: Celestan uses his domain powers to read the heart of the wolf, send it all the positive energy and peaceful thoughts he can, and finally heal and regenerate the beast's eyes and stomach in hopes that it can be soothed - at least a little

The_Snark

2011-02-23, 01:41 AM

Above the Fortress of the Gods

Spells she had readied for the arrows she was certain would come—ah, the joys of a foe who was swift to lash out! That one would sow the seeds of her own punishment—but instead came a voice. Lilike has heard it before, but never so gentle—how is it that the terrible death-god she recalled, and the stern old man he has become, could sound so? She had never imagined him thus in three decades of memory and reflection. And the name of Wyse—that was not the sound of a hated foe.

"He is still dead," she said to Garadiel, and for once her words held no rancor. "Does it matter who struck the first blow? It is the same in the end: him and Ateris and Rognir gone, and all their children left fatherless."

"Do you recall—"

Then flew the arrows! Up, up into the moon's radiance they soared, tenscore of them, and broke upon the sunlit goddess. Tenfold were the Grey Watch repaid for their accuracy, for each arrow that struck home was shattered by the witch's spell, and fell back to earth like steel-tipped rain. At the same time Lilike shattered and again vanished, and her steed fell to pieces, the wind that composed its flesh fleeing to the corners of the world while its wooden bones fell down into the fortress.

"Our fathers made us foes before ever we were born, uncle," sighed her voice in Garadiel's ear, sounding weary beyond her years.

Jair Barik

2011-02-23, 05:41 AM

"No."
"I shall not listen to voices that claim knowledge they do not rightly have. Down that path lies trickery and wrong doing. Before against, Kylfa-Madur you all sought violence, not one of you asked him his desire. I shall not with needless though raise up my hand against this self procliamed King in anger. Not yet. But the wolf...I sense som kinship in a beast such as that, I shall go to it, I shall end its pain. But first..."

Nara took his book and took his staffand rose up to the top of the tree to where the seed was ready.
"I care not for who takes you, nor what they create from you. Such is my link to the land that when this world perishes, I shall be no more. But I think... I think in my time here I have learnt something of what it means to be the world. A true world that is, not some false vain image of a world carved out in a mirrror like some counterfeit. So I give to you new world these gifts."

Touching the end of his staff to the seed Nara surrendered much of his divinity and all the power kept within the staff itself.
"This staff is old as I, made by Rognir himself though not in this form. Twas once an axe carried to hunt a wolf. The staff speaks of peace, of love and joy but also of sadness, of death, of the end that all things must eventually come to. Its head lies in a glade, the headstone to the grave of my one love. These gifts with much of my soul, I surrender to you. Regardless of what is yet to come, my there be love and kindness in the world that is made."

Next he took the stone book and touched it to the seed and again let its power and his divinity run into the seed.
"This book was written by my hand, copied from ruins long forgotten, an old tongue, a tongue of power but also of violence. The book speaks of conflict and hate but more than that it speaks of justice, of acting in defence of your beliefs and of action, courage, adventure. These gifts, with much of my soul, I surrender to you. Regardless of what is yet to come, my there be love and kindness in the world that is made."

Turning from the seed Nara began to make his way down to the bottom of the tree, back to its roots.
"A third gift I have given to you. The gift of a soul. Regardless of who comes here now you will have your own freewill, like the tree from which your were born. You shall not get to chose what you create, but once it has been created you will have the knowledge, the awareness to look over it, and attempt to protect it by calling to those Gods or mortals who inhabit it. For these gifts I claim but a single boon."

Reaching beneath the roots of the tree Nara gripped his hand about the shaft of a mighty javelin, ancient and made strong with years. With one pull he ripped from the earth and balanced it in his hand.

"The javelin built to slay the red wolf long ago.... He is gone, but let us see if it is not strong enough to slay another wolf whose likeness he bore."
For the first time in much of his life Nara felt young again. the strong man who had set forth to slay the wolf when he left Rognir's house. No more would the weight of the worlds years hang upon his shoulders. He would slay the beast, free it from the torment he had felt for so long. History it seemed, was repeating itself, but this time he was wise as opposed to young and foolish. Come mighty wolf...come and let me test my fangs against yours.

And so Nara set off towards the beast, to what would likely be his doom. Perhaps his soul may live on inside the tree but such thoughts mattered no more. He would fight, he would die, but he would not go quietly, not without first claiming a worthy foe to accompany him on his journey into the afterlife.

Acts

Spend everything to give the gifts of Nara to the seed, that the worl to come may be just and balanced.

Kasanip

2011-02-23, 08:27 AM

Nari - The Fortress of the Gods

The sun that burned over head was fierce and proud, and true of Celestan's flames and spirit. It too was a herald, like Nari, and she looked at it and gave it a radiant smile.

All of her brothers were busy in some way or another.

Around the walls the enemy came, and they attacked the great fortress, but it was defended by the armies of all of the gods. From the east, north, south and west they were here together, united for survival. Tengu and human, and oni and giant. All of them wearing their colors and weapons. And there were the Emiyu in their dragon form led by Myoan, while Ya-un-Kurumi led the Shiuk and humans of Toukoku together. Tengu Oneclaw, who was the fiercest and without equal of the exalts, led the tengu who stood beside the Tumi upon the walls. And there were other heroes of the Gray Watch, and from the south and north, and from smaller places which had not been known, but now were recognized. Together they stood for their survival and world. Faolan's appearance inspired them to heroism beyond the flames of Celestan. Their souls burned with the light of the sun overhead, and so they threw off the monstrous forms that came again and again.

On the wall there also stood Nari, and in her calm expression and presence they were inspired even more.
But she was calm only in appearance. The fortunes working of all of those who were here she arranged and gently turned. An arrow shot was corrected to straighten it's path. A claw's strike was pulled away slightly.

What was the meaning of Victory? Nari had thought on this, and had come to her conclusion. So she had examined it, so she had mastered it, so she had become it.

But Victory can't bring itself. Even as Nari walked upon the wall, she was just a child in a world of war and death. A world that was falling as it struggled. The monsters that crawled up the wall near her fell back as they lost their grips- they had no fortune because they did not exist. How could creatures with nothing have traits of this world? They had no fortune, they had no chance to obtain Victory here.

There was no misfortune for the defenders, that Nari walked among. And so there was no defeat for the defenders. There was no victory for the attackers.

That's what Nari was busy doing alone anyway. Victory would come at a certain, very precise time. But she couldn't say the time. Because that would change things, and Victory can be interpreted so many ways. Around her were the Hierophants of Celestan to guard her, a royal guard for the young girl.

There was Faolan, who now charged to face the Once and Again King. Just now in front of the gates of the fortress. And Nari looked down at him from the wall and lended him her aid. She took one of her sandals and broke it in two. And it grew to become 2 rings of silver. Faolan's legend included now the recognition of Nari. Victory was with him, and so he had Victory over Heradi. Now Faolan felt these pure white rings surround his ankles. He could feel light and fast, and his steps did not miss or stumble, but were perfect and graceful.

But now she felt something changing. Her brother Nara was doing something. And she saw images in her eyes of things that were warm and hopeful, but also driven and strong. The new age she was to herald was being shaped now. But Nara alone wasn't going to shape it. Still, a small content smile came to her face for a second. But now it was gone as she walked, one naked foot and one sandal, on a wall of struggle.

Acts

1 Ceremony: Help Celestan with the new Sun
1 Major Act: Artifact: Rings of Fortune - These two rings give the wearer speed and sureness in foot. Jumping, balancing, moving is all easier and true.You will not stumble or fall, and you feel lighter.
1 Major Act: The presence of the Child of Victory on the wall ensures none of the enemy will pass the fortress while it is defended. (2 Minor Acts from before should be considered with this)

2 Major Act, 5 Minor Acts, 2 Ceremonies remain

White Blade

2011-02-23, 10:18 AM

Garadiel does not reach out to stop his brother, though he frowns fiercely at Nara's words. He is lord and god of the aether where the seed hangs, so he stands by it to guard it. He must make sure Lilike cannot take it. But he is an old god, and has seen often enough the grief of youth caused by their elders. Though, admittedly, he was actually Wyse's elder. But there you are. When you are a god, you realize age is a relative thing.

Little one, he says gently, making Lilike feel as if she were a very young girl being talked to by a very old man, which in a way she is. That war was over. It has been over. The only one who has perpetuated it is you.

Raz_Fox

2011-02-23, 08:46 PM

Before The Gates Of The Most Precious Fortress - The Wolf Who Is War Stands Against The King Who Slew A Hundred Gods

The Once And Again King pushes - ever so slightly - and the great gate of the Fortress crumbles into dust. They Who Waited Beyond begin to swarm past, into the fortress. But the first who come are struck down, by Verdant and by Jorian, who begin to cleave a path through the blasphemous horde.

He turns to Faolan with a smile. "Finally, a challenge." Faolan leaps forward even as he speaks, the Blade of Judgement held high - and The Once And Again King catches the blade as it descends, holding it as delicately as one would a butterfly, and its motion ends as abruptly as if it had never been unsheathed. With a contemptuous flick, he sends Faolan skittering off to the right - but now Faolan has regained his footing with blinding speed, and strikes again, this a thrust. The Once And Again King now seems to move in an oneiric ideal of the warrior, letting the blade's strike fall upon his cloak. It offers no resistance, but when Faolan pulls the blade out it seems to leak something like quicksilver, blackening the blade for a moment, and making the air before them shimmer.

"Your grandfather's father dies like you die, warrior. Alone, facing his destiny. Did you honestly know that I was waiting for you?" The spear and the blade meet, once-twice-thrice; he cries out at every blow, laughing and praising Faolan's skill, but with a cruel grin, like the lion that chases the deer.

For Faolan fights not simply on a physical plane, in which the spear and the blade move far too fast and elegantly for mortal eyes to follow, but on a spiritual plane. Every nerve, every fiber, commands for him to yield, to surrender, to simply stop resisting His unholy influence.

The Wolf And The God Of Fire Meet Bittersweetly

The fire inside is so great, so mighty, that it takes every bit of Celestan's skill and power merely to contain. As he stands there, among hairs that are as long as a man is tall, he hears the wolf's voice without hearing it with his ears. It is the voice of a frightened child, who lashes out due to the utter agony it feels.

make it stop hurting, brother. please, stop the pain. i don't want to keep hurting. it hurts, it hurts so much, it hurts it hurts it hurts make it stop please please please

And then the fire within its belly roars up again so strongly that Celestan cannot appease it any longer, consuming the wolf from the inside, and it howls with such force that his ears bleed. It snaps at him, seeking to cause something, anything else a tenth of the pain it is suffering.

Kaiser Omnik

2011-02-23, 10:52 PM

The Wolf and the God of Fire

Celestan-as-cardinal was hurled into the nearby reef. His numerous broken bones were rapidly mended thanks to the god's regeneration, but the emotional backlash left from feeling his brother's agonizing pain was almost more than he could bear.

"I'll help you. I will! Damned that grandfather of mine! Curse your tragic destiny!"

As he sensed Nara's approach, the recovering god mentally called to him:

"Nara! Orgo! Whoever you are now! Please, we must put our brother the Wolf to sleep. His suffering, I cannot hope to stop it forever! Please help me, so this terrible deed be done quickly!"

Jair Barik

2011-02-24, 05:01 AM

The Wolves and the God of Fire
As Nara approached he heard his brothers call and raised his head to the sky.
"I hear your brother, such torment as exists in this soul I too once felt, if he is trapped in such a manner then death is likely a welcome release to him."

Setting into a run Nara moved towards the wolf's form faster and faster till at last he was in range, and then with one mighty swing of his arm he hurled his spear strong and true at the head of the beast. Flying through the air its form moved, fast as lightning and sharper than any mortal blade, screeching as it ripped the air apart and finally ripped through the body of its target.

The_Snark

2011-02-24, 07:01 AM

By the Branches of the Tree

"No," said Lilike, but doubt crept into her voice. How could those words not be truth? Their meaning shone plain and constant as the sun, and her denial sounded like that of a willful child. "No..."

Then she fled; with senses immaterial the god felt her phantom presence take its leave of him, down, down to the fortress where the battle now raged—for there she was in truth, wrapped in a veil of light. Some charm arrested her at the fortress, and kept her from flying past; to her witch's eyes it seemed a net of golden thread, impossibly fine.

At the center of every web is a spider. This one shifted about a girl, standing on the walls.

The Fortress of the Gods

At the gates and on the high walls, mankind fought. They sent arrow after arrow into the teeming hordes upon the plain, they drove spears into the scrabbling things climbing the wall. When one fell, another took his place. Within the halls of that adamant fortress waited all the hosts of mankind, living and dead, man and woman; and every last one clutched a blade. No foe would take this fortress without paying for each step in blood, and a dear payment at that.

But within the shadows cast by the new sun, something stirred. The broken remnants of the steed that bore Lilike from the Uttermost South, the horse-of-wind-and-wood, lay discarded in the courtyards and halls. Who pays heed to a twig when the mad hosts of the Dreamer are at the gates? Oh, the soldiers of Man do not know their peril, though the folk of the Far West could have warned them: 'ware the woods by night, shun the dark and twisted forests, for within those dwell the accursed traitors of old, who poison dreams and steal breath!

Names floated through the fortress, whispers on the breeze. Those branches that fell in the light of the new sun were still, but those that lay in darkness shivered at their mistress's call. Like rotten seeds, the bones of the horse put forth questing tendrils, brown and withered, and grew into the crude semblance of men. A score of them there were, gnarled and twisted in body as they were in spirit; whatever joy or virtue might have been in them had died long ago, and only the sorcery of Kylfa-Madur bound them to their bodies.

Czeref and his ilk sidled forth to join the battle. Not with blades in the light, oh no—that was not their way. In the shadows of the fortress they lurked, and sprang from behind to squeeze the breath from the foe with long strangling fingers. The swords and arrows of men bit harmlessly into ancient wooden flesh, and soon they melted into the dark to stalk elsewhere. A wild terror of the ancient world was loose behind the walls, hunters in a place of warriors.

On the wall where Nari stood, something gleamed. A trick of the light? No; a black-robed figure stood there, stepping out from between sunbeams. Lilike looked upon her distant cousin, the one whose constellation she had named the Queen, and felt envy's cold sting. There was serenity in Nari's bearing, a blend of youth and regality that Lilike had never quite attained for herself. She looked as though she smiled often (though not at present), and when she did it would be sincere; she worried for her kin, but there was no fear in her. To call her beautiful would be to do her a disservice; it implied a gross physical quality, comely features and rounded hips and other such vulgar qualities. Instead, Nari was beauty. She would have the love and respect of all who knew her, no matter what face she wore.

Lilike's fingers twitched for her bloodstained stone knife, but she stayed her hand. Ten men guarded her, and Lilike did not know their measure as warriors.

"You have the sense of kin about you," she said to Nari, "though I do not see Rognir's blood. Who are you, golden one? How do you weave nets to bar our passing?"

1 minor act to summon Lilike's bound servants into the fortress, and empower them so as to make them give a bit of a fight.

White Blade

2011-02-24, 08:23 AM

Garadiel feels his niece's presence depart and sighs. Her anger was nearly infinite and there was very little use to her, he did not think she could triumph over them alone. But he could not leave the fortress and, by extension, the fruit unguarded as long as she was there. He is so near to the fruit that he can almost taste its fruit upon his tongue. Power, so sweet, so near, so absolute. It is a terrible desire, a thunderous desire beating in his heart. He could take it and use it and its power to drive back the enemy hosts. It would not at all be difficult. They are all distracted. His strength so empowered, he could drive back his foes beyond the edge of his foes. But things are not yet that desperate, to justify such a unilateral reaction. He stays his hand. For now.

So he lands beside the fallen gates of the fortress, his senses on the presence of his traitorous niece. She is not closer to the seed then he, and he is certainly faster than she. There is a massive horde of monsters here, but it is smaller than in other places. Verdant and Jorian are doing an excellent job protecting it. But not, admittedly, a perfect job. So Garadiel raises a hand and begins to strike the massive hordes, claiming lives with the form of the heavens. None amongst the horde survives his attacks. How can they stand against death and heaven?

He watches his nephew from the corner of his eye, alert and watchful. If he needs aid, Garadiel will give it, though it imperil the seed to the witch's hands.

Kasanip

2011-02-24, 09:41 AM

At the Fortress of the Gods: Sisters?

There was a gleam upon the wall, and the child turned in wonder. There a black-robed figure stood between the light of the sun. And Nari looked up at her distant cousin, and she seemed so similar.

As Nari looked at her, she could not help but see her own face looking back. The light was not upon this girl, and always moved around her. Nari did not have to read fortune to see pain this woman had lived through, and so too Nari could imagine it as her own pain. A reflection then, they were like sisters. So similar, and so different too!

What future did she have? What was her name?
The child Victory who had only one sandal wondered this. But like a mirror, Lilike had spoken the same thing. And slowly Nari stepped forward. There were the ten guards of Celestan who had come, but Nari knew their fortunes, and they could not stand to this girl. And Nari did not want them to, because she felt something about this woman. It was a kind of feeling hope- maybe naive, but also a longing that wrapped about her and beckoned subtly and dangerously. Nari had never had a sister. Of course she looked up to Celestan, but that was different. He couldn't understand her always. He was passionate of the moment. Yet this woman wearing black had a cool and curious feeling, and her eyes beckoned with the reflection of starlight. Stars that told different stories, not so different than fortune.

"I am Nari." She said, wanting to smile. Another step forward.

"It is not a net. A net's purpose is to capture and hold, but that isn't the meaning. Maybe it is more like the purpose of 'sewing?' To keep something warm inside, and something cold outside."
Another child's step as she looked up at Lilike. There was no fear in Nari, though now Lilike's knife was close. She looked like she was thinking instead.

"Because it cannot enter. There is no other reason I think. Maybe both are similar in thought, cold and hot; outside and inside, or those who have come, and those that were here." She tilted her head and half closed her eyes as she spoke softly, private words for Lilike.

"I'm just waiting. I'm a banner and a symbol. Maybe just an ideal that everyone here believes in and yearns for? Maybe I'm just a treasure to be taken. But that is not a bad thing, if a treasure can fulfill the desire and purpose that are given to it." She looked up into Lilike's eyes. A more regal look, if a child may look like a queen. Full of contentment and careful pride.
I'm Victory, whatever that may become from now. But I'm not Defeat as well, so that can only be an outcome where I am not.

And here I am!"

The logic was warm, and yet almost like a child's thought. Nari touched her heart and then held her hands out to Lilike, as if to reach up to touch her hands, or to be picked up? But Nari waited politely for Lilike's response.

"I don't know who you are older sister, but I don't want you to be sad. I don't know how you entered to here, but so long as you are here you are safe with me. Will you tell me your story?"

TheDarkDM

2011-02-24, 11:43 PM

The Lone Wolf and The Lion

Faolan and the Once and Again King danced across the flaming sea of the clashing armies of madness and reality. Despite his transcendent skill, Faolan could not land a blow on the abberant lord, and though his body remained vital the insidious corruption of the King's presence was wearing on his psyche. Yet Faolan's will remained strong, for he had endured the corrosive presence of the Beast and the spirit of the Sword and remained stalwart.

Eventually, the King and Faolan fought their way to a calm in the midst of battle, an empty valley in the midst of horribly mutated corpses and silently screaming dreams. Faolan pushed away from the Once and Again King, and the two faced each other in the sudden, temporary silence. There was a glint in Faolan's eye as the volcanic ash parted for a moment to reveal the bright horizon, and he raised the Blade of Judgement in a defensive stance.

"You are indeed worthy of your title, oh Once and Again King. This has been a duel that all will remember until the reshaping of the world. But you have made one critical mistake - you assume I fight alone."

Nefarion Xid

2011-02-25, 12:13 AM

The Lone Wolf and The Lion

A flicker of a shadow passed overhead. The Once and Again King had no time to consider Faolan's words, nor to look for his alleged compatriot. A blue glint arced through the air an instant before the land groaned and then broke under the impact of the thing that had been in the sky an instant before. The dust and debris retreated from the combatants in an expanding ring. The distant fires dimmed to glimmers and the light of the second sun waned before being choked out. The quaking of earth and scattering of rocks should have made a terrible sound, but all was quiet and cold.

The shadows tore away from Aldric, revealing for the first time in ages a young, vibrant man instead of a grim shade. He gritted his teeth and sneered, pressing his scythe down into the interposed blade of the Once and Again King.

"... and I almost expected you wouldn't block."

Acts
Despair is joined with the Crystal of Elemental Darkness. A dark weapon for dark times.

TheDarkDM

2011-02-25, 12:38 AM

Fear and Justice Face Madness (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p9fk-IuF8oY)

As Aldric landed amidst Faolan and the Once and Again King, the Wolf God set his feet against the hard ground. Aldric's landing had not disturbed Faolan's footing, but it had weakened the already cracking stone. Seeing the Once and Again King occupied, Faolan pushed off against the rock, leaving explosive divots of lava in his wake, his sword illuminating Aldric's arcane darkness.

Raz_Fox

2011-02-25, 11:51 AM

The Duel At The Gates Of The Fortress Divine - Fate Draws Near

There is a moment, as the blades of Aldric and The Once And Again King meet, in which the truth of the battle that will end the world is revealed. Why Rognir damned his son to this moment. Why only Aldric could stand here and shed his blood for his family.

Within the eyes, the blasphemous green cat's-eyes of The Once And Again King, beneath the nobility and mad conviction, is fear.

He sneers, in a vain attempt to hide his terror. "You believe that truly I can be defeated? This is my day of exaltation, estranged son of Rognir Fell-Handed! And no man, or god, or ghost shall stop me on this holy day!"

The scythe meets the spear, the sword meets the gauntlet; the three begin a battle the likes of which the world could hardly dream of. The Once And Again King's spear-blade burns with green fires, and the wood twists like a living thing in his hands, lashing out at his foes. He cheats - his movements are impossible, even for a god with three joints in every bone, and his terrible majesty is revealed fully, his body glowing from within with his power. Were this any other battle, against any other foe, his enemies would have fallen within moments. But the fear in his eyes comes ever closer to the surface, as Aldric and Faolan match him - match him, blow for blow! Aldric's shadows cloud his burning eyes, and Faolan's arms will not tire, no matter how many times his sword meets the iron defense of The Once And Again King's spear.

"You are nothing," he screams, "But ash blown upon the wind; your acts account for nothing!" His voice sounds desperate, as if he is trying to convince even himself now. "No man may stand against me and live! Your victory may stand upon the wall, but even now the traitor that opened my portal extinguishes your last hope!"

Thus Ends The Wolf, Forgotten, Unloved Child Of Rognir

The eye of the great wolf is the size of a vast lake, and Nara's javelin flies straight and true through its center. For a moment, it totters, and then the javelin breaks through the back of its vast skull with a rain of bone and blood and the meat of the head, and it howls, blood filling its throat.

Then, it collapses, and the ocean takes its body, and the seas rise up to claim what little land there is left - water runs in torrents into the divine fortress, filling the courtyards, now up to the knees of the warriors, now up to their waists, causing men to seek higher ground to continue their battle.

The only dry ground left is the plain on which the Three battle, dark and wasted, before the gates of the fortress, and the ground upon the roots of the Tree. From the sea came the land, and now the sea reclaims its child.

ArlEammon

2011-02-25, 12:37 PM

The Duel At The Gates Of The Fortress Divine - Fate Draws Near

There is a moment, as the blades of Aldric and The Once And Again King meet, in which the truth of the battle that will end the world is revealed. Why Rognir damned his son to this moment. Why only Aldric could stand here and shed his blood for his family.

Within the eyes, the blasphemous green cat's-eyes of The Once And Again King, beneath the nobility and mad conviction, is fear.

He sneers, in a vain attempt to hide his terror. "You believe that truly I can be defeated? This is my day of exaltation, estranged son of Rognir Fell-Handed! And no man, or god, or ghost shall stop me on this holy day!"

The scythe meets the spear, the sword meets the gauntlet; the three begin a battle the likes of which the world could hardly dream of. The Once And Again King's spear-blade burns with green fires, and the wood twists like a living thing in his hands, lashing out at his foes. He cheats - his movements are impossible, even for a god with three joints in every bone, and his terrible majesty is revealed fully, his body glowing from within with his power. Were this any other battle, against any other foe, his enemies would have fallen within moments. But the fear in his eyes comes ever closer to the surface, as Aldric and Faolan match him - match him, blow for blow! Aldric's shadows cloud his burning eyes, and Faolan's arms will not tire, no matter how many times his sword meets the iron defense of The Once And Again King's spear.

"You are nothing," he screams, "But ash blown upon the wind; your acts account for nothing!" His voice sounds desperate, as if he is trying to convince even himself now. "No man may stand against me and live! Your victory may stand upon the wall, but even now the traitor that opened my portal extinguishes your last hope!"

Shen Zhi Shu, now dead, a lingering spirit. Witnesses the mighty spectacle. Realizing that the time was drawing near, and running out, he would try out another plan of deception. This was one of desperation. Shen Zhi Shu's spirit walks over to the battle between Aldric and The Once And Again King. He carefuly stands between a short and long distance, close enough to the King to shout with great fierceness and force, and long enough that he was sure to not be struck down, even as a spirit. Shen Zhi Shu braced his spirit, and then screamed a deep, bellowing roaring insult, to stun and disparage the King's spirits, and to distract him from Aldric long enough for a killing blow to be dealt. "Your time is done now, Mortal King!"

White Blade

2011-02-25, 05:02 PM

Garadiel obliterates yet another grand swath of army as the water reaches his chest. The host behind him, all the dead of Rognir, is perhaps as great as the host before him, but no more. And though many drown, still more clamber upon them or swim though they have the flesh and face of birds. Though a sword is driven into them, they clamber up the blade. Verdant and Jorian are not tiring beside him, though the battle grows increasingly pitched. But the taste of a death, so terrible and so old, is on Garadiel's lips now. The inheriting son of the father of creation, of all creation, now in battle against the children of Rognir. He was family, in his own strange way. So long has it been, so many years. And Garadiel watches, and his eyes burn. The horde must be held back. Verdant and Jorian are up to their chin in water now, and the water slows even their divine skill. He signals them away, instructing them to go to Nari and seek her instructions.

But he cannot turn away, he is transfixed. Perhaps it is the madness of the drums, which now beat so near the surface they almost break through his own iron will. But his will is mighty and the taste of hope too close to his lips. It is all ending, he feels. He takes his hand and swats a swarm of foes down with force. The water washes around him and his hands grip the throats of two of his foes, taking away their restless breath with ease. Each of the dead topples over the other, forming a place for Garadiel to stand and watch. The first world's order and the children of the first world will be dead when this night was done.

Garadiel is the second eldest of Rognir's surviving children. But he is the eldest of infants in the eyes of their foe. And having walked beneath the hall of the world, he knows how very old his foe is. And he feels a twinge of pity as he crushes another hundred of the host. It is visibly thinning now, so few of its number can survive beneath the rising deep, and they are dying at his hands. The warriors on the barricades are slaughtering the once climbing and flying, now falling, foes. It is almost over. But there is a traitor on the barricades and she may yet ruin everything. Garadiel cannot leave the gate, not quite yet, but soon. And when he does, he will have to face her, though she has a blade that could kill him, which had already tasted his blood.

Jair Barik

2011-02-25, 05:20 PM

Moving across the battlefield to where the corpse of the wolf had fallen and surveying the earth he plucked from it the javelin, it had flown true and hard passing straight through its foe and burying itself in the earth beneath him. Taking hold of the weapon in both hands he held onto it for a moment staring at the beauty of the weapon. So simple...so elegant...so deadly. Closing his eyes he raised one knee into the air snapping the weapon in two across it.
"It is done Celestan. The wolf has been slain, only one wolf by my reckoning yet lives. Go to your uncles Celestan, go to them, aid them against the last foe. My time... my time is up now. It draws to a close and there is nought that either of us can do to prevent it. Not even the mighty Garadiel lord of the dead, nor brilliant Shen with all his magic may save me now for as it was foretold long ago the world must come to an end and when it does I shall die for such is my destiny as spirit of the land." For once in his life Nara cracked a grin as he looked upon the form of his nephew.

"I think. I think I shall join your mother now. I do not know what shall become of me when the world ends, bar my death that is, but I believe the memory of me shall live on, or at least I pray it shall. So to Sovvenia I shall go and there dwell forever more. I almost fought her once in rage... but I could never harm her... she was too good to lay a single hand upon, even in one of my bouts of wrath."

Turning to look upon the last battlefield Nara's complexion grew pale. His end was growing ever closer and his body was aging to show it.
"Tell my son. Tell him I am proud of him. Proud that he became more than his father, proud that he could overcome his demons, proud that he fought for what is good, what is right. And Celestan, one more thing. I do not know what the new world will hold, who shall forge it, who shall rule it. None of this I know and none of this I can change despite what gifts I have given to it. But Celestan, if you should see the new world promise me this. Promise me you shall make it good."

With one last smile Nara collapsed to the ground, there to wait and watch as the end of this world rushed onwards and the beggining of the new world fast approached.

TheDarkDM

2011-02-25, 05:45 PM

The Duel At The Gates Of The Fortress Divine - Fate Draws Near

As the world came to an end around them and the bulwark of the Fortress Divine held the brunt of the Once and Again King's abominations intact, time seemed to distort around the three battling on the ground. Within the sight of the mad King, minutes could be hours, or days, or seconds, and yet the blades of Aldric and Faolan did not slow, nor did their hearts falter, here at the end times of their world. With every blow of Faolan's sword against the Once and Again King's defense, a tremor rippled through the swiftly sinking ground. For every scything arc of Despair arrested by the King's bulwark, it seemed the sky itself would shatter for the keening. Through it all they fought, with such mastery and divinity that the waves themselves crashed against the edge of their battlefield and were held enraptured.

For a thousandth time, Faolan flew at his malefic foe, his blade swinging low as Aldric's scythe came from on high. And once again, the spear of the Once and Again King twisted in his hands to halt both. For a brief moment, the duel slowed, Faolan and Aldric trying their strength against that of a being that had seen the birthing of every world extending back into antiquity. Fell shadow and blinding light pressed against the miasma of his wroth, and against the torrent of terrified insinuations Faolan could only smile.

"So this is what you are reduced to, at the very apex of your victory? A writhing snake who can do nothing but rely on a traitorous daughter of a world he despises beyond all things. To think we once cowered at the very thought of your coming, oh Once and Again King, when in the end you are naught but a pathetic Echo of a time that is long past."

The screaming counterattack came as Faolan expected, and the three gods danced across the plain anew, they footsteps striking to the very heart of the world. Yet Faolan's eye, which was really the eye of a thousand warriors, had found a mad pattern in the Once and Again King's erratic attacks, and as the tip of his fell spear crossed just a hair to far Faolan struck like a springing viper. Such was the King's speed that the killing stroke was turned aside, but in that single moment which became an eternity Faolan saw blood blossom from a cut so thin it would be beyond the concern of a mortal warrior. But the Once and Again King had been cut, and he bled.

Nefarion Xid

2011-02-25, 10:04 PM

The Duel At The Gates Of The Fortress Divine - Fate Draws Near

"You both talk too much!" Aldric let out a world weary sigh mid charge. He was on his target in a blink, slamming his scythe down with unholy strength and shattering stone when he missed. If his foe wouldn't take the full brunt of his blows, he'd carve away at the earth itself until it swallowed the lot of them. And when he met with retaliation his eyes would go cold, distant and blade would find only shadow, ripping through his body with all the permanency of cutting a waterfall.

Ender, Unmaker, Thief of Light and Warmth, the names of Despair raced through Aldric's mind as he hammered again and again on the blade interposed between him and victory, absolution. If his defenses would not yield, they would shatter. Heradi? The Behemoth? They had felt the sting of Despair and Aldric had his glory and vengeance stolen. This foe would not evade him, not linger. Damn fate! Aldric had his own design and he swore this one would fall to him, break and meet oblivion.

The_Snark

2011-02-26, 08:33 AM

At the Fortress of the Gods

Lilike recoiled as if Nari had thrust a venomous serpent at her. What madness was this? Did she not know her peril, to step from her bodyguards and stand before her enemy unarmed and unarmored? They stood against one another at the last of all battles; what strange fancy compelled the child queen to embrace her foe as a long-lost sister?

Yet stranger still was the longing it inspired within her breast, sudden and so fierce she nearly wept. Lilike had armored herself against the cruelty of her foes, but against kindness she had no defense. How could she? Long years of scheming and war had built a layer of scars over her heart, but in all her years in the West she had never known love and trust freely offered. Nari's words kindled a long-dormant flame from her childhood, when she had desperately yearned for her mother's smile, and dared to hope that one day her father would offer more than cold and distant tutelage. She'd wished in vain then, but now—now—oh, it frightened her how much she wanted to cast everything aside to take Nari's hand.

Madness. She should have resented this golden child, who had everything she had been denied: loyalty, love, fortune, peace. Why couldn't she? She found herself regretting that she had ever gone to the Wall and invited that splendid and terrible King inside—but she had. The way was open and could not be shut, and the world burned. She'd cast her lot already. Hadn't she?

Her hand brushed the hilt of her knife, then sprang away as if burned. She could not, would not bring herself to harm Nari, not if all the battle hung upon it.

How had her world been spun about so quickly?

She stared at Nari for long moments while the waters rose beneath and the sky to the south blazed red, and at last she said haltingy, "I am Lilike. I broke the spell on the wall; I turned the key and opened the way for the King who rides here even now. You"—her voice caught—"you should not welcome me here, Nari. I am your enemy."

But her voice told a different story, and the longing in her eyes was plain to see.

Raz_Fox

2011-02-26, 07:51 PM

The Death Of A King

The Once And Again King sneered at Aldric. "You must forgive us for our loose tongue, prince of dog's blood," he said, laughing. The laugh was not joyous, or mocking, but tense and tight. "The lost and the damned are not fine conversationalists."

But in that moment, Faolan lunged, and The Once And Again King screamed in horror. For a hundred years - no, a hundred thousand - not once had his superiority been challenged in such a way. Not once had one of his foes succeeded in drawing his blood, which now leaked from his wound, viscous and black, reflecting disturbing sights within.

And the shouts of Shen Zhi Shu rang in his ears, mocking, tearing down his majesty. Of all the gods, Shen knew the truth of their foe - without his terrible majesty, without his alien, blasphemous splendor, The Once And Again King was nothing more than a memory, a shade far past his time.

"No more!" He roared, the sound of his voice shattering the already-furrowed earth about them. "My dream, my perfect vision, shall come to pass, no matter who stands against me! Now be damned to the same oblivion you would pass unto us!"

There are two responses to fear: a man may choose to be overwhelmed, to shake and quiver, or a man may grow furious at his own weakness and that which frightens him. The Once And Again King is the second man, and so he assaulted Aldric. Once, twice, and then they passed each other, their blades flashing.

Aldric stumbled, pierced through by the spear, his blood spattered upon his fine coat. And The Once And Again King laughed, madly, turning with wild eyes to Faolan, a dark stain spreading from hip to shoulder. "And now what of you, god of justice? Will you stand before what is justly mine? Then-" Only then did he seem to realize, mad with dreams of glory, that his body was being ripped apart, piece by piece, by the wind. Aldric's scythe tore him asunder, and not even his will could hold him together for another moment.

"No." He said, in a whisper so quiet that it rung from the walls of the Divine Fortress, within the ears of every one of They Who Waited Beyond, in the hearts of every one of Rognir's children.

And then he is gone, his body ripping apart into fragments of blackened paper, those terrible flames extinguishing into nothing, until all that is left upon the plain are the terrible black stains - and those too will pass, given time.

The Children of Rognir have defeated the foe that has consumed countless worlds, slain innumerable gods, and waited aeons for his mad quest. There is a moment of perfect silence, as the ashes of The Once And Again King fly about upon the wind, and then the world moves on.

TheDarkDM

2011-02-26, 08:11 PM

Aftermath

As the Once and Again King flew towards Aldric, Faolan sprinted to keep up. Though tireless, and swift as the most nimble of beasts, even he could not match the impossible swiftness of the Mad King or the shadowy alacrity of the first god to lay Heradi low. Thus it was that Faolan was charging towards the battlefield as the two destined foes passed each other, as one collapsed and the other exploded into fragments of burning memory. Though those defending the Fortress Divine let out a ragged cheer, there was no victory for Faolan, not yet, as he saw the blood flowing from Aldric's wound.

Moving as he was, Faolan had caught Aldric before he hit the ground, and with a great kick he propelled them off a thrusting pillar of stone moments before the seas rushed into the void left by the passing of the Once and Again King. They landed heavily upon the outer walls of the Fortress Divine, the host of the Once and Again King pulling back from his killer, and Faolan laid Aldric down with all the gentleness he could muster. His lone eye scanning the multitude of ramparts, Faolan called out to the dwindling world.

"Celestan! Come quickly!"

Kaiser Omnik

2011-02-26, 08:49 PM

The Old Wolf Closes Its Eyes

"Nara!"

Celestan returned to his original form and ran to Nara's side, tightly gripping his weakening body. Some distance from there, the Once and Again King had just been put to rest...finally. A bittersweet victory, if anything, after all the terribles sacrifices that were needed to achieve it.

"You have done so much for this world, uncle. It was so beautiful, so full of life. When it's time to make everything anew...your work will be a magnificent inspiration, you can count on it! We will do good. We must. To attone for the sins of the Gods, and heal the madness which drove the Once and Again King to wage war against Creation."

The Fire God kissed his uncle's forehead.

"I pray for the souls of the two wolves that found death here today. Thankfully your son lives on. He calls me now! Be sure I will tell him what you told me... Be at peace now; gentle Nara, fierce Orgo. Farewell."

Then Celestan let the great ocean reclaim the god of nature. And he headed to the ramparts to join the last heroes of the world, where he discovered Aldric and Faolan. The Everbright Lord laid his hands on the wounded body of his uncle, while he recited Nara's last words destined at Faolan.

"I'm not sure I can heal him..."

Nefarion Xid

2011-02-26, 09:20 PM

"Oh come now." Every fiber in Aldric's relaxed and he'd gone limp and still spare for his strong heart and the constant river of blood leaving his side. "It would be cruel fate to let me live at this point. It'd make too much sense for me to die here, too poetic. Father had a curious sense of humor I think. Or..."

His eyes slipped open long enough for them to flit around to the faces surrounding him and then to his forgotten scythe.

"Destroy it. Take it away from here. I don't need it any more. Quickly, before I change my mind. Go, Faolan, you're the only one strong enough to bear it. Just... take it away."

His breathing slowed and he shut his eyes, if only to rest for a little while. He shivered for the first time in an age. Aldric was the only one who didn't notice.

"I'll destroy it myself. Later. Can't die here... won't until the end... this isn't the end..."

hi-mi-tsu

2011-02-26, 11:44 PM

In the North there lies a city unconquered by the waters that have swept over the world. It is surrounded by a barrier that leaves it whole, and safe, a barrier that the waters sweep up against and cannot slip through. It lies empty, its people gone to war or gone to death, and a mournful wind swirls through the pleasure-paved streets.

In the North there is a humble home, untouched by the ocean, on a field that was once ever-green. It has withstood the furious clashes of titans, the epic battles of gods, the shifting and changing of the mind of its creator. It lies empty, and the windows are bleak, and the wood is rotting.

In the North there lies an observatory, a tower for viewing the stars. A tower for claiming them; there is a mirror in the tower that gleams, with a brilliant light, an imprisoned light.

In the North, in the observatory, there sits a goddess. The world crumbles around her, and she does not fight it. She does not fight with her siblings, she does not join in the epic battle to defend the world. The words of the Raven King echo in her ears, and she has done one part of his boon already, though she raged and wept and pleaded.

A fragment of a memory could rebuild what it had been made of.

She could not fight fate. And it was the fate of this world to be reborn...and her fate to not be reborn with it. Her eyes lift to the wall across from her, where her copy fights, the shadow of herself, chained to the stone with binds it is unable to break. And she waits.

"You'll never get away with this! Never! Your world is over! Your people are gone! Succumbed to the Dreamer, or to madness, and it's partly because of you!" Ancalath screams, and spittle flecks her lips, and Calantha waits.

The death of the Once and Again King echoes throughout the world, and his whisper of despair echoes in Calantha's heart, and she takes up the silver-bladed dagger at her side. The location of the Once and Again King's death is etched into her heart with the blazing words of promise she'd uttered before stars she had sought--and failed--to conquer; in her mind's eye her brother's body lies bleeding.

"Soon..." The word is whispered, and somehow reaches Aldric's ears. "I'll be there soon."

Calantha's blade finds its mark in the abdomen of her dark half; Ancalath screams in agony and is silenced. In death she is nothing, a puppet, an empty doll...and a deep stain spreads across the mad goddess's dress, and she smiles as the mirror behind her shatters.

The light can be seen from everywhere, from everyone; it lances through the sky, a brilliant beam of pure truth, restrained once but now no longer, and comes to hover above the Seed of the World Tree.

I give truth to the world that comes after, unmarred by blindness, by madness. I give this gift...it is all I have.

All Major acts spent to destroy the Mirror and give the Seed Calantha's final blessing.

The House of Madness splits in twain and is consumed by the ocean; the City of Pleasure crumbles and falls. And Calantha's step is light, on the earth beside her brother, beside her siblings; she walks forward, across what little land is left after the ravishing of the end of things, and kneels beside Aldric, unheeding of the scythe, or the others, or the wound. Her fingers curl around his, and she smiles, a heartbreaking sorrow and an endless love in her eyes.

However many minor acts it'll take to teleport to the spot of the end (I know that she doesn't really have power for that, but she damned herself to die beside her brother at the end of the world, and that's what she's carrying out, so I hope it's okay *sweatdrop*)

"I've come...only me...Aldric, I've come to be with you." The mad goddess settles in the grass, and arranges her brother's head in her lap; one hand still holds his, and the other pulls out of nowhere a vial of clove oil. She begins to comb it through his hair, gently, lightly...

"There is no place for us in the new world, brother..." Her voice is soft. "But I will know, always, my place in this one. And it is with you, at the end of things."

White Blade

2011-02-26, 11:58 PM

Garadiel raises a soft, gentle eyebrow at his little sister as he lands beside her on the wall. He turns to Celestan and to Faolan, to Verdant and Jorian and he looks gentle, quiet. Surprised even. And a soft whisper exits his lips, not the voice of The Herald, for The Herald and The Prophetess have no more purpose in this silly world, their work is done, their deeds accomplished. The Once and Again King is fallen and Ateris and Kyfla-Madur left the world so long ago. Rognir's sword lies broken beneath his feet. Garadiel speaks softly, "We will tear down the stars for you and make a place for you, do you not believe that we will?" he asks, his voice gentle and almost afraid. Surely, surely, not all of his family had fallen short as he had fallen short. Surely heaven could, perhaps should, still be defied for the sake of leaven.

Kaiser Omnik

2011-02-27, 12:15 AM

ArlEammon

2011-02-27, 12:28 AM

Fortress of the Gods

And there appeared beside Garadiel the ethereal body of Sovvenia, free and peaceful. Now more than a faint glimmer, the ghost of the Lady of Reminiscence was still slowly fading away; a sign that the gods' song was ending...at least until a new one was weaved into existence. Sovvenia stood silently along her family to bear witness to the Final Day. Celestan sensed his mother's presence, but he didn't say a word. Because no words were needed; the love of Sovvenia had always accompanied him and guided him during his ordeals.

Shen Zhi Shu came. . . "Sovvenia. I remember that day. . . When we first met eachother at Father's house. Thank you for the memories." Shen Zhi Shu joked. " Shen Zhi Shu turned to the others. . . and then said nothing more. With tears in his eyes, he pondered their fate, and then he returned to Himiko, known as Chei. "Chei. . . As long as our love endures, we will never die. " Himiko, turning to Shen Zhi Shu, ran to him, as if she had not seen him for years, only to pass through him. "Shen Zhi. . . " She asked. . ."Then you are dead? Shen Zhi, what has happened?"

Shen Zhi turned again, seriousnes but tenderness in his voice. "There is something stronger than mortal love. . .stronger than the god's love.That love is our love. We are no god and demi god. We are Chei, and we are Shen Zhi. Father and daughter. I do not know where I will go now. I only know that you will be with me. I must be stricken with grief over the loss of Zhang and Xiang Jian now. One day, perhaps in another world, I will return to Xiang Jian, with you at my side. And indeed, Xiang Jian is also a force that exists within our hearts, and will thus never cease to be. "

"Before we leave, I must await the final setting of the Sun."

Kasanip

2011-02-27, 07:11 AM

The Fortress of the Gods: Mirrors reflect Love too! (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XUI_ugUSgmY)

Nari paused as Lilike recoiled and spoke. Her loving and content look faded a little, only replaced by a soft knowing look. And in those eyes were for that second a kind of sadness.
An earnest and truthful yearning that her eyes could see, and so also reflected Lilike's own yearning.
But she blinked, and that gentle smile returned, and she was surrounded with a pure gleaming light of white and gold. A gentle and soft radiant glow.
Below, the Once and Again King had been defeated.

And the radiant child spoke clearly and emotionally to Lilike.

"There is no such thing as 'Enemy' anymore.
Only we are here together, at the end and beginning of things.

And so I can say to you, sister of mirrors and secrets:

I Love You."

In the sky, a brilliant beam of light- guiding and true- rose to the seed above. And Nari looked up at it as it radiantly blossomed like rainbows and flowers. And as it cast it's brillaint light across the world in an aurora in the sky, Nari stole a small look to Lilike.

And Nari's smile back again, and as Lilike looked upon the beam of Calantha's hopes and aspirations, Nari snuck her hand in quickly to take Lilike's own together!

So does Victory then come subtly and sometimes unexpectedly to those who find it!

It was a gentle, warm touch. A loving touch of a sister who did not fear and offered all of her love and happiness.

Yes, holding this hand, Lilike found herself surrounded with the hopes and feelings of the future. The past was thrown off, like a fading dream when waking. Here now in a moment of warmth and realization, but soon the present would pass, unto a future brilliant in a myriad shades that could not be comprehended. And on those paths there was at least one that was constant- that a family's love never faded and together it was strong and true.

"Come on!" Nari spoke with a voice of excitement and contentment. " Our family's waiting for us."
And Nari stepped forward off the wall holding Lilike's hand, like a little child running towards the rest of her family.

Acts:

1 Major Act: Artifact: Lilike's Victory - Lilike found Victory alone a top a battle-torn wall at the edge of the World's Ending. And the Victory she found was over the loneliness and trials that haunted her from the beginning. Victory was a little sister who's love was true and trust was genuine. Victory was a family with whom she belonged, and a Future of hope and dreams infinitely grand. May despair and loneliness always be so defeated!

1 Major Act, 5 Minor Acts, 2 Ceremonies Remaining