LoC: DoA IC

[DaBull]

Aeon slept.

Aeon slept in the Astral Sea of a forgotten dimension, created in an eternal, chained bondage brought on by a league of creators who dematerialized even as he was created.

Not a peaceful existence... and so the Great Chained God did not sleep peacefully. He rumbled in the bondage of nightmares as inescapable as the links around his person. He snarled at the empty blackness that greeted him now upon slumbering, just as when he awoke. He jerked at the timelessness that bore down on him even in this nightmare dreamscape.

At least now there were not the far gone specks of color that taunted his waking eyes in the blackness... Worlds untouchable to the god, not even in dreams, for as we begin to see, the Dreams of Aeon are seldom free...

But then, colors did grow. They began as pricks of color, making Aeon wonder again if he was awake or asleep, or if the distinction mattered. But these colors began to come closer, to define themselves. Though only against the deep, impenetrable blackness of infinity could these be called colors. Drab grey, brown, and dark, stagnant blue greeted Aeon's eyes. These grew into a globe, a ball of dirty, lumpy earth, veined heavily and thoroughly with thick channels of stagnating, currentless seas. Here and there stood the fiery peaks of volcanoes across the ball, oozing magma into torpid steams when it met the veiny oceans.

And suddenly Aeon's chains, up to this moment present even in the dreams of a god that had only known chains, shattered, link by dazzling link. He began to fall, scrabbling frightenedly at the air, screaming soundlessly into the serene silence of the slated sky.

This is where Aeon fell to earth, not knowing what a god ought, leaving only wonder at what such bizarrely unchained power had wrought...

[Vadin]

Wherever Aeon looked was color and substance: rough gray stone, rich green-blue streams, red glowing stuff. "Surely," Aeon marveled, "this is no dream. Surely this is the birthright I deserve. Surely the nightmares have ended and I have found home." Just past that idyllic patch of feverish reality Aeon admired, just out of the edges of his sight, just beyond the next mountain, just inside the next cave, was Bakuro. Bakuro was darkness. Bakuro knew the ubiquitous nowhere and all-encompassing nothing. Bakuro was darkness self-aware, darkness pronounced and fleeing the light. Bakuro woke.

[DaBull]

Across the ruddy hills of the world echoed a sinister cackle; soft, as though it traveled over a great distance, though no less chilling. It lasted only a second, and then was gone.

[Nefarion Xid]

Wriggling up from the lava flows in a macabre dance the elementals yawned deeply, sucking in the vile and sulfurous air. They bore rictus grins permanently etched across their facial facsimiles as they reached their full height and experimentally stretched their muscles of living flame and clawed at the sky. They turned their talons on the earth next, lazily scratching long, molten rivulets across the land and lounging in the resulting pools. Few became many; they sprang full formed from the cracks in the earth. The elders looked on with approval as the little ones smashed at rock and belched ash. In no time at all the pyroclastic drums and delighted roars of their play filled the air. Geysers erupted, mountain tops were shorn away and the sky choked with powdered rocks. The children of flame reveled in the chaos and bellowed the name of their king… the biggest and meanest child of all, Calduras.

(Create Monster: Fire Elementals. (1 AP - Fire Domain Weekly used))
(Final AP: 6)

[hi-mi-tsu]

In the rivers created by the dreams of the chained god, life began to stir; at first, it was as sluggish and stagnant as the water it dwelt in, but as elementals met other elementals, formed clans, began to procreate and make war and make communities, the water churned and flowed around them. Eventually, it overflowed its banks, and the first true seas were formed, joining the stagnant branches of the rivers and giving them a reason to flow to each other; this gave a true space for Esuil, the most cunning of the water elementals, to make his home and kingdom recognized.

(6AP-1AP: Create Water Elementals, 5AP remaining)

In time, Calduras had built a kingdom of his own, and lorded over his people with an iron fist and a heated temper; he welcomed challengers to prove his strength, and claimed mates indiscriminately, wherever his whim took him. So it was with his bonding with Amarine, who was spawned from the aether; she was beautiful, a goddess of Wisdom, and all thought it odd that she seemed to genuinely enjoy the temperamental Elder's company. Their coupling was as intense as the lava that flowed around them, and Amarine bore Calduras a pair of twins, a boy and a girl. The girl was as pale as the boy was swarthy, and from their childhood they bore an uncanny connection to each other; Aillyn, Amarine named her pale child, with storm-gray eyes that saw through to the heart of things. Casimir, she called the other, strong even as a baby and yet with a gentleness unprecedented in this land of fire and war...

Calduras was disappointed in son and daughter both, for the daughter was a girl and the son would not fight; he showed no fire, or so his father believed, and so the Elder elemental moved on to another woman, and another after that, and Amarine left in the night.

And the twins grew, and learned, and Aillyn protected her brother from those who would harm him, and Casimir helped his sister end fights in peace.

[Innis Cabal]

In the color and sounds of creation, the darkness that must surely come along with it and the sounds of life created fresh from whole cloth, something stirred. From whence it was born not even it knew, though it thrashed and swam in that ephemeral space with a howl it could never vocalize for it had no mouth to do so. It had no eyes to see the colors or the lack within but it could feel their very existence and knew them to be strange and alien. It could feel that silent oblivion that hung forever about the opposite side, for there cannot be something without nothing. And it swam between the two, unable to reach out and stake claim in that warm and wonderful place nor did that void seek it out and claim it. What was it meant to do, why did it perceive. Was there some grand mission of intricate design it so like an insect could never grasp.

Did a carp at the bottom of a pond look up into the world beyond the flat mirror like surface of its world and wonder aloud to those that shared its space of a dream of walking beyond it? Did a carp truly understand that it was a carp and wish to fly on wings of a swallow? Did the swallow ever ask the carp if it resented living in a space so removed from what it desired? No connections linked them as surely as no connections linked that which swam through that ephemeral space and saw the Gods as swallows soaring on wings made of imagination and dreams. But unlike the carp, unable to break free from its watery hole, Yeoli Okwang could latch out from itself into those spaces even for a brief moment and hold onto whatever it grabbed and never let go.

And it passed, a flicker of flame and a flicker of something else, and it reached and reached and reached and in that colorful world a breach formed only for a second. But that is all it took, sucking down those moving ungodly things like a ravenous maw and with a pop that space closed once more. It did not understand these things that moved though they slowed in a space they could truly never exist. But it wished to for even Yeoli Okwang desired like all else for if anything he was truly the creation of desire itself. And it seeped into those moving things, what could be claimed as a body devoured their forms and made them like him, but not like him at all. They were like ribbons of ink, carving and curling through the air among themselves, no sounds emitting from their form or truly from any part of themselves at all. Mockeries of the life they once had, Yeoli Okwang would have hissed if truly it had the capacity to do so itself. But it could brood, angry at its failure to perform that which the swallows had.

(Create Race- Gwoemul: 6 AP -1 AP=5 AP)

[Nefarion Xid]

In the centuries that passed, Calduras took many nameless goddesses as his mate. None survived long in the kingdom of fire and ash. The offspring of these unions were the first of the dragons, fury incarnate with elemental hearts to send pure fire through their veins. They were the worthy sons of Calduras, but it was gentle Casimir who wore the Obsidian Crown. Each plotted in secret for a way to slay the prince and gain their father’s favor. None showed their hand for it was his tenderness that gave the prince strength. The brutish and short sighted elementals had tried in ages past. They roared and leapt on Casimir seeking to consume him, but he flesh would not burn and his countenance never turned to anger. With a simple gesture he would turn their fire away and they would burn themselves away until only a flicker remained. It would have been easy to extinguish them, but the prince only ever scooped up their tiny form in his bare hands and deposited them into the nearest lava flow to regain their strength.

Compared to the monsters around him, the prince was an insignificant thing. A human, by later reckoning, with hair the color of soot covered gold and a burned copper complexion. Black markings crossed down his back and limbs, identical to the ones on his brothers. His agate eyes always seemed heavy with concern or melancholy. On his noble brow was the symbol of his station, a crown carved from black glass. It was the only thing of beauty that Calduras could ever receive credit for with the possible exception of his first two children. Casimir had fashioned simple clothes for him and his sister from the hide of one of their brothers… slain by another. The clothes served well, simultaneously protecting his sister from the fire and easing the discomfort of feeling quite so alien and frail. About his wrist he wore a simple bangle of iron. It was a novelty for the prince, something he had simply pulled and shaped from the lava on a whim. Aillyn saw far more potential in iron.

(Create Monster: Dragons (Red) (-1 AP))
(Final AP: 5)

[White Blade]

The rocks and mountains have never been any friends to men, though neither were they foes. Watchful and silent, the lords of stones shifted and stopped and stood aloft, and the oldest and strongest and wisest wore neither visage nor face before any save the kings of Sky, Earth, and Fire, who counted her their only sister. When she came, her face and form were crystal and steel, pure and mighty and unconcerned.

The elementals who moved beneath Ealdor were not at all like the elementals of air or fire or water. Patient and quiet were they, though fearsome when angered like the rumbling of an avalanche or the quakes of the earth. The stones were regarded by men with reverence, and a good amount of intelligent fear. The mountains were mighty, and they never forgot. Ealdor embodied them, and lived well in them, before the sun was hung in the sky or the stars placed within the heavens.

(Create Monsters: Earth Elementals (1 AP -Earth Domain Weekly Used)
[Final AP: 6]

[hi-mi-tsu]

There was no crown adorning the pale brow of Aillyn, no recognition of her equal position as the eldest of Calduras's children; she was a girl, and foreign in appearance, and the elementals resented her. Her brothers, the dragons, hated her for being twin to Casimir, for being strong despite her femininity, for wearing the skin of one of their own; she grew up cold as ice, reserved and quiet, an enigma to everyone except Casimir. It was her twin that she came to, when the cruelty of her brothers became too much for her, before she had truly learned to defend herself; it was her twin she found, after the first fight with one of the elementals had left her cut and bruised. He was the only one who truly understood her...and she was the only one who understood him.

Her first weapons were crude things, wooden swords that blazed and died, or obsidian blades that were sharp but brittle, breaking at the first strikes against the stones she practiced with. Still, they had been useful; now, in her encounters with the other elementals, she could defend herself swiftly and without question. It was not her they chose to torment, more than verbally, any more; it was her brother, who handled things with peace. Aillyn did not understand it, but she accepted it; still, there were times when the attacks became too much, and she defended him as well.

Now, she crouched beside the magma stream, watching the liquid rock flow, and her eyes were contemplative. Casimir had idly pulled a metal from it, before, that he wore around his wrist; it was strong, she knew. Stronger than the obsidian, far stronger than wood...

"Brother..." Her voice is slow. "Do you think you could fashion me a sword, from the metal you pulled from the lava...? It would be strong...I need a strong blade. I need something equal to the claws of our half-brothers, something that can withstand the flame of the other elementals that would seek to challenge me, even still. Something that will set me...above them, even, superior in skill."

And so it was that the sword was forged, iron blade sharpened to a fine point, fused to a handle that was iron polished; it was a beautiful sword, but plain, a symbol of office and a symbol of function, and she held it aloft when it was finished, a smile on her face.

"Now, armor..."

(5AP: Sword of War-Combat Artifact
2 AP from me
2 AP from Nef
1 AP Domain Power-War Domain

3 AP currently remaining.)

The Sword of War is, at first glance, a weapon of no particular impact; it is plain iron, lacking in decoration. And yet, that is where its true beauty lies; it is perfect in its functionality. It is exceptionally strong (not unbreakable, but it would take a true feat to destroy it) and balanced perfectly for Aillyn's use.

[Nefarion Xid]

"Father isn't going to like this..."

Casimir bound the last of the steel plates to his sister's dragon hide tunic to form a cuirass. They overlapped just like the scales of their brothers and father and the world would not see its equal for an age. The image of the sword weighed heavily on his heart, and in a way he regretted how perfect and efficacious it was. His only took solace in that it would bring a quick death to whomever wronged the wielder and that there was none more deserving to weigh life and death than his twin sister. Before he could apply the finishing touches a deep voice shook the mountainside.

"You should have made those false scales for yourself, brother!" roared the dragon Pyroclast as he clambered down the rocks and took to the air on his enormous wings. His two conspirators, Sunder and Rumble burst from their hiding places belching flame with blind fury. Clenching his fist, Casimir drowned out their fire and moved to evade his brother's assault. Desperately he reached out to take his sister's hand, but she was no longer there.

(-2 AP, Sword of War)
(Final AP: 3)

[hi-mi-tsu]

"In case you have not noticed, Brother, Father does not like me." The words were dry, as Aillyn's pale eyes met her brother's agate ones; she flexed, experimentally, in the crafted armor. It moved well, and she was pleased...Casimir had always been better at the making of things than she.

She did not get the chance to thank him.


"You should have made those false scales for yourself, brother!"

Only the fact that Pyroclast and the others were focused on Casimir instead of herself saved her from being broiled alive in her brand-new armor; Aillyn dove out of the way, eyes narrowing as she ducked behind a rock. She was armed, now, and armored; no more did she have to fear the claws of her brothers. No longer was she weak, no...she could fight them, she could stand on their level, and they would remember never to discount her again.

Casimir was being pummeled on all sides; though the fire was no problem, the claws were, and she could not stand idly by and allow her brother to be killed, not by these three. Not by any, whether they be one or three or thirty or three hundred...

Clambering up onto a rock, her eyes follow the three; Rumble, she judges, will be the easiest to take out. He was never very smart, and had always been a follower...as well, he was the closest to her perch, and looking in the opposite direction.

One might suppose that she would cry out, as she flung herself from the heated stone towards her opponent; offer a battle call, some sort of derisive comment. But they would be wrong, for giving the cry would destroy what she had going for her--namely, surprise. It was not until she landed on the large dragon's back, digging her blade into the joint where his serpentine neck met his body as leverage, that he even realized something was wrong; with a bellow of pain, the dragon twisted away from his primary target, fighting with all his might to rid himself of the annoying gnat on his back. Every thrash brought him more pain, as it dug the blade deeper; Aillyn clung to the sword with all her might, staying low to Rumble's neck as he twisted and snapped, getting so desperate as to breathe a gout of flame over his own scales.

"You will not rid yourself of me so easily! You should not have come here!" Kssssht, the sound her blade made sliding free of the dragon's flesh; it scraped past scales, and elicited another roar of pain. Rumble turned completely from the fight, taking to the air; in response, Aillyn plunged her sword higher up into the dragon's neck, yanking his head to the side and sending him into a plummeting spiral from which there was no recovery.

The sound of the collision echoed, as did the crunch of bone; blood seeped from Rumble's nozzle, eyes clouding over in death, and Aillyn pried her sword free and pointed it at Pyroclast.

"Your turn."

Pyroclast and Sunder were speechless, staring at the slain body of their brother and comrade; there was a thundering roar, and they took to the air, winging away from the twins. Wiping her blade clean on Rumble's wing, Aillyn lifted her head, eyes worried.

"Casimir? Brother? Are you hurt...? Are you all right...?"

[Nefarion Xid]

"I... I'm fine, I'll heal. Rumble... you killed him." Tears stung Casimir's eyes as he looked to his dead brother and caressed his muzzle. Real blood poured down his torn arm as he hobbled over to pay respects to his fallen brother. He stroked Rumble on the cheek and passed his fingers through the stream of bright glowing fire that flowed from his wounds. "It didn't have to end like this..."

Casimir had met Pyroclast's fury head on, lurching into the dragons chest and tumbling with him down the mountainside while shielding himself from a torrent of bites and slashes. He had only just scaled the cliff side against to see Rumble felled. Sunder and Pyroclast took to their wings as the odds were evened.

"Quickly, Aillyn! Give me your sword. Father will honor me if he thinks that I...."

His words came too late. Solid rock gave way to the flowing form of an elder god and Calduras tore his way through the mountain. White hot magma shone from under the overlapping scales of obsidian and he set his terrible gaze on his two tiny children.

[DaBull]

Wings beat through the air unaccompanied. Pyroclast and Sunder looked simply ahead. At one moment, Sunder chanced a glance over, but quickly retreated it upon seeing Pyroclast's mean scowl.

As the two came up upon an upward thrust of scorched rock, their wing beats began to slow. They descended to the entrance of a cave, carved out of the rock by a long-gone flow of magma. Their claws touched down, and Sunder moved forward into the cave. Pyroclast turned, looking out over the blasted landscape in silence. He sighed gruffly and waves of heat poured from his nostrils, and his eyes began to dart slightly back and forth regardless of the landscape.

A minute pressure on the very top of his head at first went unnoticed, but its constant presence grew over time until it suddenly became apparent to his distracted mind, breaking his concentration.

"What will the next plan be?
Going at it again already, I see.

Pyroclast's eyes rolled upward. Above him was a being much like Casimir and Aillyn in appearance, floating in air. White hair and beard adorned a head wrinkled with what would be called age, had the dragon any knowledge of what age was in the immortal twilight that was still the dream. But out of that face shone bright eyes with a piercing fire that overshadowed everything else, even though they were directed simply over the blackened landscape. Pyroclast wondered at what viewing that gaze in the eyes must hold and whether that light had the tinge of genius, anger, or vitality. He stared dumbly at those eyes for a moment before realizing the most important part of what he was seeing. Despite being floating above him, the thing Pyroclast saw was a head. The man was floating upside down, cross-legged, with his hands folded at his lap. He was also at this point slowly spinning, the tip of his long beard doing jerky pirouettes on Pyroclast's head. Beyond that, a motley cloak of colored patches hung inverted over his upper body, revealing breeches covering thin, spindly legs.

Pyroclast shook himself to, and then quickly snapped his jaws backward toward that spot of dangling pressure. With his eyes closed, an instant of brief relish at being able to crush the life from something at this moment flashed across his brain before his maw slapped shut on nothing. He opened his eyes and paled. The eyes were immediately before his. Well, before one of them. The old man's head could not fit before both. A completely new sensation burned itself across his eyeballs. He had felt burning heat before many times, but never had he felt a cold so intense that it caused a burning sensation, as the nerves cry out from the sheer stimulation, regardless of nature. If Pyroclast had known what that feeling was, that would be how he would describe that glance. It was at that moment that he decided that it was all three, genius, anger, and a strange vigor beyond that even of youth.

The man let the beard drop from his hands.

"Oh now,
how would one with such power
wish to risk what I have to offer?
Please don't cut me short so soon,
I wish only to give advice where advice is due."

The man let out a gleeful cackle and set to quickly spinning again.

"What would you have to offer me?" Pyroclast snorted, though less convincingly than he might have hoped. He was still blinking from when the gaze had broken his.

"Why simply, see,
The observation,
As it comes to me,
That why would one so great wish to share his throne?
And should he not be celebrating one pawn gone?
For of any you are surely best,
And why share with Rumble and Sunder the rest?
Why not rid yourself and now be done
With one whom you might overcome
But mayhaps not when later you're weak
After killing those whom you've just failed to break?
Surely Rumble was not of great prowess,
To be defeated by one so powerless.
And how could those two have greatly counted,
If the final fight amounted?
You need them not in the future here.

And all the while he was speaking, from The Laughing God's words poured laughing birds.
They flew and scattered across the Mortal Plane, so that now his cackles could be heard echoed everywhere.
Though to this point, his laugh was known to only two, but each shivered at what they knew.

AP 6 = 6 - 0 (Create Animal: Birds from Kookaburra base - Laughing Domain discount)

[hi-mi-tsu]

Aillyn stood straight, and tall; her newly-crafted armor still gleamed, though it bore traces of Rumble's blood, and her eyes blazed with a cold and resolute strength as she met the terrible gaze of her father. Father in name only; he had made it clear from her birth that because of her gender and her bearing she was nothing to him, less than worthless, not even an accessory. Some small part of her wondered if this would, perhaps, change his mind; had it been Casimir to slay Rumble, as her brother's cut-off statement had implied, he would have been honored and praised for his strength. Not that Casimir, her sweetest brother, would ever kill anyone...had he not taken those elementals that attacked him and let them spend their strength, before depositing them back into the lava flows to regain their energies? He could have so easily snuffed them out...but he had always chosen mercy and peace over an efficient dispatching of his enemies, and while sometimes she had felt as though an elimination or two would have done well, she loved her gentle brother for his gentleness.

Calduras took in the sight in front of him, and that terrible gaze narrowed its focus; Aillyn was a gleaming bite in front of him, her very posture speaking of rebellion, and the walls of the cavern trembled as the Elder Elemental opened his jaws to speak.

"What is the meaning of this?!? Weapons? Armor? For you?"

Aillyn's chin lifted, and her own eyes narrowed. "A weapon. Armor. For me, Father, for myself! You would have me defenseless, insignificant, you would make me to be nothing! I am not nothing!"

Calduras appeared...momentarily taken aback, by his daughter's passionate outburst; always before she had taken his criticism in silence, only her gaze betraying her intense dislike, and that was--he felt--how it should be. She was a lesser being, after all, compared even to her brother, and his claws raised in an instinctive desire to strike this insubordinate child down.

[Nefarion Xid]

Calduras' talons lashed out towards Aillyn and there would have been the battle of the age then and there. Dauntless and with her new sword in hand, Aillyn would have fought to her last breath. Casimir couldn't allow it, even if she had a chance to defeat their tyrant father. There was a sound of one mountain slamming into another and when the flash of fire and rock had cleared, Casimir stood between his sister and father, arm outstretched, meeting his father's strike with an open palm. They stood frozen in time for a moment and for the slightest instant, Casimir felt a tremble against his hand.

The titan withdrew his claws and prepared for another strike. For the first time in his life, Calduras tasted fear. Tempered with cruelty and strife, his son was to be a fitting second in command, never a true contender for the throne. He'd throw both of his insolent spawn off the mountainside and be rid of his shame.

"I yield!" Casimir's words hung in the air like snowflakes and Aillyn and Calduras looked towards him with growing incredulity. In his mind's eye he had two visions. In one, he and Aillyn joined together and struck down their father. The elementals would roar their approval, the dragons would finally kneel and he would be king. And he would become what he hated most; he would be forced to rule by strength and there would be an unending procession of challengers until he was finally bested and forgotten. In the other vision, they battled their father and failed. Aillyn lay dead.

Neither could come to pass. Casimir lowered his hands and bowed his head in submission.

"Let Aillyn go. Banish her like you did mother. In return, I will be your prisoner... sacrifice me if you want, let the sons of flame dine on god-flesh. You'll be rid of us both, isn't that what you want?"

Aillyn's protests went unheeded and Calduras chuckled darkly, pondering the merits of his son's proposition. Fearsome and chaotic though he was, the titan was no fool. Aillyn would live, though he need never see her again, and his meddlesome son wouldn't survive to rival him.

Stretching his enormous black wings, Calduras yawned out his edict without ever setting his eyes on Aillyn. "Be gone," was all he ever said to her before turning and setting back towards his throne, leaving the twins a last moment together.

[hi-mi-tsu]

After the sound of Calduras's passing faded, there was an echoing silence; it was broken by a shuddering inhalation of breath, and the sound of a sword being slid home into its fashioned sheath.

"Brother..." The word was a whisper, and Aillyn's pale eyes lifted to find Casimir's face; what she saw there broke her. His resolution dashed her hopes that he would flee with her, and she would not beg him. Tears rolled down pale cheeks; it was the first time she had ever cried. She had not done so when their mother had left, nor when she had been struck...but now, faced with the leaving of the only person she had ever cared for, with the idea that she was abandoning him to die...it was gut-wrenching.

"Casimir...I don't..." She groped for words, but none would come; what could she say? In the end, she embraced him tightly, an embrace she never wanted to let go...

"I love you, Brother." The words were whispered into Casimir's ear; in the distance, she could hear the clamoring of dragons, no doubt sent by her father, and if she was still here when they arrived she was under no illusions that they would escort her out of the place. They would kill her. And so, with one last look at her brother, she fled.

Left on the stone at his feet was one perfect, shimmering crystal, shaped like a teardrop; she clutched the other in her hand as she ran. Perhaps someday they would be drawn together again.

(Crystal Tear: Passes 2 AP to Casimir, one-time thing
1 AP remaining)

[Nefarion Xid]

Casimir clutched his sister's crystal tear and watched her vanish over the jagged terrain. He could hear the thundering of wings of his brothers approaching. If he ran, their father would find them both and there would be no chance to parlay, only the full wrath of the tyrant king denied his prize. When his sister was gone from his sight, he shut his eyes tightly and let out a slow, ragged breath. His teeth locked together. He refused give his brothers the pleasure of his screams. They fell on him like ravens on carrion. Only after they'd had their fill of scarring his flesh and dashing him against the rocks did they collect his limp form and deliver him to their master.

Bloody and broken, Casimir awoke some time later in his cavernous prison; basalt on all sides with only a trickle of lava from the ceiling for light. Not dead yet, he thought. He supposed Calduras wanted him stronger for the sacrifice. The beating had perhaps saved his life; at least now he had some time. Failing to lift his head from the floor, he settled with letting it roll to the right and his hand finally gave up the death grip. Aillyn's tear was still there, shining in the darkness.

(+2 AP from Aillyn)
(Final AP: 5)

[TheDarkDM]

Suffering.

The taste of it filled the air, thickening like nectar the longer it hung unattended. In the dark corners of the primal world, the shuddering bulk of the nameless malice rumbled in pleasure at the new sensation. Pain was nothing new in the primal world, but true suffering required the links of love. Thus, with the first stifled scream from Casimir's breast, something changed in the mind of that terrible being. In one isolated corner a true consciousness appeared, pushing desperately against the all consuming madness of its body.

In that single shard of consciousness, the thing that would be known as Zeriex took his first breath. He could sense the desire for patricide, the straining bonds of family, and the inevitable abomination that would result from them. A shudder went through him, and he reached out tentatively to the suffering, wandering daughter of Calduras.

"How can you abandon your brother?"

[hi-mi-tsu]

Aillyn stopped dead, eyes snapping from side to side; she saw nothing, and her shoulders tensed. A disembodied voice? Accusing her of abandonment...clearly, it did not understand, and she closed her lips around the angry, heartsick words that wanted to spill forth.

Patience.

Think.

And so she continued to walk, at a slower pace, turning the thoughts over in her mind.

"If I had stayed, I would be dead." Her voice was cautious, as she strode through the heated valleys, heading for the lands that were not owned by her father. "I could do no good to anyone dead, least of all him. I cannot fight off every dragon that wishes me harm, nor could I defeat Calduras. But you, disembodied voice, why do you seek to harm me? Are you, perhaps, my conscience? Or simply afraid to show your face?"

[Fierywasabi231]

Aeon stirred.

Before him was a scarlet landscape. Or perhaps it was his vision turned crimson. Far in the distance there was a speck. Black. Ravens. They were ravens dissipating into the vermillion sky. Another speck. White. A bleached skull. Specks of ruby. Blood. It stirred. Static. Dust. White.

It was gone.

It was gone, replaced by a moan. An old woman. Then a boy. Young.
The wind shifted. It was gone.
Replaced by silence.

Silence.

Nothing.

-------------------------

Aeon was haunted. That skull. Hours, perhaps even days, had passed and it was still all he could think of. That skull.

He shook his mighty head. This was not a dream, it couldn't be. He had lived his dream. It was bleak. Desolate. Nothing but void and the emptiness of darkness. This world is rich with color, with substance. With reality.

It wasn't a dream. It couldn't be.

[Nefarion Xid]

The prince locked his eyes on the glimmering crystal in his hand. For what felt like an eternity he held it in his gaze and as divine strength returned to his broken body he turned it over and over with his fingers, the only part of him capable of moving. By the time he was able to sit up and position himself against the wall, he had become arrived at a perfect knowledge of the little speck of light. It was so simple, but so powerful, just like his sister. It would have been the keystone of his masterpiece if he had a workshop fit for a god, but locked away in the bowels of the earth it was a miracle unto itself.

As soon as he was able, he went to the lava flow and knelt before it. The tear hovered between his outstretched fingers and with gentle coaxing he pulled strands of elemental fire from the lava and wove them into the gem. One sliver at a time and a thousand times over he borrowed power from the heart of the world and each thread intertwined a thousand times over. The tear, still no larger than his thumbnail, took on a blood red hue. Satisfied and at the point of exhaustion, (such displays were not without their toil) Casimir dragged himself to the wall again. He allowed himself a happy, if slightly delirious smile as he appraised his handiwork which now cast a brilliant light about the cave. The gem was bound into a strip of dragon hide within a steel bracket and the strip woven around his left arm to form a gauntlet with the tear positioned on his palm.

His fingers closed over the gem and darkness overcame him once more. The tremor through the rock signaled the coming of his executioners. Silently he forced himself up to his feet and waited patiently with arms at his sides.

(Create Utility Artifact: Gauntlet of Flame Dominion (-5 AP))
(Final AP: 0)

The Gauntlet of Flame Dominion creates one charge of Bless per week. Full description coming later because... you know...spoilers.

[Kaiser Omnik]

*One day, Old Man Thunder went on up into the heavens. He said to himself: I'll go up to the north, and drink my fill, and kill Yang-hanen - which means King Sky.

And he came on up to the gates of Heaven, carrying his axe and his staff. By the gates he spied a youth, sleeping before the doors, and as he stepped forward the youth raised hooded lids and raised his brows. "Oho?" said he. "What are you about here?"

"Bar no longer the gate, but stand aside for Old Man Thunder - he will toss you down if you do not."

"Well," says the youth, "Come then. I am Young Man Wind, and my moment here is peaceful. Leave me to my nap."

Then Old Man Thunder did grapple with Young Man Wind, and for Old Man Thunder the battle is the meat on his plate, and the clash of bodies is the wine upon his lips. So Young Man Wind was thrown down upon the gates of Heaven, and Old Man Thunder did continue on.

The seven winds did he battle, and toss aside, for Old Man Thunder grows powerful in the chaos of battle and the roaring of the heights. Come farther did he, until he met Young Man Wind again at the gate of Yang-hanen's palace. "What," said he, "How come you to stand here before me again?"

"I am Young Man Wind," said he, "Fire is my brother, and Water is my sister dear. And the oath of Shikigami I did pledge before Yang-hanen, so that his strength becomes my own, and I stand before his gate. Go now, for though the winds may be strong, Young Man Wind is stronger still."

Old Man Thunder knew the bluster of the empty wind, and so he drew forth his axe and sought to bring Young Man Wind down to the land from which there is no returning. But Young Man Wind is canny, and he did but dance aside the blows of Old Man Thunder with the grace of the western wind, and his palms were open, and his eyes were merry.

For he had seen the strength of Old Man Thunder in battle, and how against each wind he had prevailed stronger than before. So for a night and a day and a night again he danced with Old Man Thunder, and his heart was still, until Old Man Thunder could no longer lift his axe for his trembling limbs.

"Why have you come to Heaven, old man?" asked Young Man Wind. "Have you come to spirit away Chane-yama, the blossom of Heaven, or to coerce a boon from Yang-hanen? Know that rare of late is his blessing, and often is his fury."

"I have come to slay him," spoke Old Man Thunder. "For I have seen how his whims break apart the tribes, and how his carelessness floods the plain and dries the forest. Would I not be a better master of the sky?"

"Well met then, elder, for our paths are in accord. Come, drink with me in the kitchen of Yang-hanen, and we will speak of dissent. For a shikigami requires a master neither careless nor lying, and Yang-hanen has been both ere late."

So they ate at the table of Yang-hanen, and Old Man Thunder broke the bread, and Young Man Wind poured out the sake. Spoke he: "You must take up arms against Yang-hanen, and defeat him - for only thus can he be unseated from the Throne of Heaven."

Upon hearing this, Old Man Thunder took up his axe and his staff, and beat upon the door of the Courtroom of Heaven, and it could be heard in heaven and upon earth and beneath the depths, until Yang-hanen himself came forth, carrying the Spear of Tiger's Jaws.

Then they came to battle, but the axehead of Old Man Thunder bounced from the skin of Yang-hanen, and his staff left no mark. Ever stronger he became, but still Yang-hanen continued to come at him and slice at him with his spearhead.

"Young Man Wind," cried Old Man Thunder, "What devilry is this?"

Then Young Man Wind came forth, with his right within his vest and his left bearing his fan, and with him came the seven winds, and the eight million spirits of heaven, and spoke: "Yang-hanen has no weakness, neither on his head nor at his root, for he has torn out his heart and hidden it away where neither fox nor sparrow can reach it, and every blade turns aside from his flesh, and no spearpoint can pierce it. Unless his own hand is to unmake his heart, so it shall be until the end of all days."

And the seven winds cried out, saying, "Master! The one you have placed over us has supped with your foe, and spoken words of conspiracy against you!"

And the eight million spirits sang out, saying, "Light is the sake-bottle, and empty is the bread-box; barren is the treasury of Yang-hanen at the hands of his shikigami, and wide are the legs of the Blossom of Heaven before his touch!"

"Master," cried Young Man Wind, "surely I have done you fair service! I have toiled day and night at your command, and by your word were the winds caught and brought to your door-step! Can you believe the words of these perverse winds over the fair speech of your spirit-bonded door-keeper?" But Yang-hanen heard the lie in the words, and he cried out in fury, raising his spear to strike down Young Man Wind, who sobbed in fear and said, "Spare me! I swore the oath of eternal service and devotion, to the fair king of sky and cloud! If there is but a mite of mercy in your heart, lift up your spear, I beg you for your sake! Surely if this is done, you will be beyond redemption, beyond hope of being seen in favor in the eyes of god or man!

But Yang-hanen's spear lashed out still, and crossed the space between them in the twinkling of an eye, and yet the hand of Young Man Wind was swifter still, and he drew his right from his vest, and it was pierced through by the spearhead. And Yang-hanen paled and cried out in a voice that shook heaven and earth, for he saw the heart carried in the hand of Young Man Wind, and the spear-shaft that pierced it.

And in that moment, Old Man Thunder rose, and he split heaven and earth with one stroke, and Yang-hanen fell. But he was cheated by Young Man Wind, for it was not he who held the heart of Yang-hanen, and through the blood of Yang-hanen flowing through his palm, Young Man Wind given dominion over the seven winds of heaven.

So Old Man Thunder came down from heaven, cursing the clever shikigami of winds, and following him came all the spirits of strife and ruin and strength, who had seen his prowess and spat upon Young Man Wind for his oathbreaking. But furthermore to Old Man Thunder had been given the splitting of heaven and earth, and power over the thunder and the storm, which even Young Man Wind lacked, for it was by his hand that Yang-hanen died.

So it was, so it is, and so it shall be.
*Written by Raz_Fox

[DaBull]

The Laughing God, Pyroclast's Cave

But that's simply the sight I see.
If you dare not, mind not me.
But if you seek to be that which you could be,
Maybe there's some help I can be.

And with that, the man was gone.

The Laughing God, The Lava Flow

The Laughing God carelessly walked with a wobbling step beside a flowing river of molten rock. He tilted left, then right, grinning, before overbalancing back left. He hung over the lava for a second, windmilling his arms as fast as possible, before regaining his balance. He then stood straight up, turning to face the right, arms at sides, legs together. Then he began to lean backward, letting himself fall backward into the hot river.

Seconds later, The Laughing God shot straight into the air from the river, holding a ball of molten glass glowing in his single outstretched fist. Upon landing, he popped this ball inti his mouth and promptly began chewing.

Then, The Laughing God turned abruptly directly around, stepping as he did so.

The Laughing God, The Sea

When the step was complete, The Laughing God was standing on the waving water of the sea, with land only far off to his left and right. He bobbed up and down with the waves, feet always remaining just at the surface of the water's surface, even if that meant the old man tilting sideways with the crests and falls. He did not notice. His eyes stared out to the distance that held only sea, unmoving.

"Look at that fool. He didn't even have the brains to return my gaze, much less respond. They can't even see what's right above them, much less the torment they have brought on those two. Something will have to be done about this. All mortals can't be allowed to grow into the cruel idiots that those three are. There has to be something made to show them that which they don't know.

The Laughing God then spat the molten glass, still red hot, back into his hand, and began pressing it between his hands into a pancake shape. As he pressed, his hands smoked, and the smell of burned flesh flared to his nostrils, at which he only laughed. He then began to work the glass with his fingers, dragging his fingers back from the center towards the edges, stopping specifically to thin them. He repeated this action over and over until the surface of the glass became a perfectly curved lens. He then pulled a patch from his cloak, a large, red one with a needlework kookaburra head from the side covered in rainbow feathers depicted on it. In the place of the eye, The Laughing God pushed the lens, and the cloth eye burned out of the place where the lens was placed. Once the lens was in place, the threads from the cloth wove themselves around the surface of the lens, holding it there. Then, the horizontal edges of the cloth lengthened into two tails, rippling down either side of the hand The Laughing God held the object in.

The Laughing God stared down at it, examining it, turning it this way and that. There was a faint rainbow tinge to the light that hit the lens. The Laughing God looked at this a long time before

"I've got it."

The Laughing God abruptly sank into the water.

The Laughing God, The Site of Dragons' Attack

A wrinkled hand plucked an eye from one of Rumble's eye sockets.

The Laughing God, The Sea

In addition to the rainbow glint, a dragon's eye appeared in the glint of the light on the lens. The Laughing God held the lens up to look at it straight, and it showed completely clear. He held it for a second, and then brought it over his face with both hands, the lens making his left eye appear bug-like. He tied the tails around the back of his head and looked around.

"Perfect!"

1 AP = 6 AP - 5 AP (Create Utility Artifact: The Oculon of Secrets)

The Oculon of Secrets discounts Create Secret Concept actions.

[TheDarkDM]

Defensiveness.

He had foreseen this, hoped for it, for it meant that guilt lurked below the surface of her log. For a moment, Zeriex cried out for joy, but the flash of his excitement drew the attention of the larger being around him and he grew still. The nameless malice would not recognize him as of its flesh, for he was intrinsically different from it, and so long as it drew power from the elder things of the world it would squash him like a bug. Moving cautiously once the bulk settles, Zeriex whispered once again.

"But you cannot leave him there, to suffer the torments of your father. This exile is naught but the work of a frightened old man, for your father knows you pose a threat to him. Travel, grow strong, and return to take vengeance upon Calduras. Slay him, and your brother shall be avenged."

[hi-mi-tsu]

"You speak words I had already planned, voice." Aillyn's tone drops a few degrees, to just above icy; she breaks free of the magma-filled caverns and surveys the space in front of her, barren and empty aside from a few odd birds, and her expression is as barren as the land in front of her.

"Words that I can acknowledge freely, now. When tyranny is the only way to lead, then it is better to leave it in place; better a people with a head, no matter how corrupt, then a headless mob. But when there is a force who desires change...well. Then Change should be a thing to reckon with."

The goddess clutches her own crystal, the mirror of her brother's (though powerless) and sighs, softly, setting her eyes on the ocean. Water was the antithesis of Fire, after all...if there was something that could subdue the flames of Calduras, it would be the cruel waves of Esuil. That would be her target, and it is with purpose that she strides towards it once more.

I will return for you, Brother...I swear.

The journey took days, and it was good that she was the descendant of an Elder; it was a punishing trip, down to the beach, and when she finally reached it she surveyed the expanse of water with a small smile. It was beautiful in its stealth; on the surface, it appeared glassy and calm, but she had overheard tales from the elementals back home--no, a quiet voice whispered, no longer home--of rogue waves that were thirty feet tall, of battles that raged, of whirling maelstroms.

What she sees are young-looking things, children, standing at the edge of the ocean; they are of the Water element, she can tell from the constant drippings, but they seem almost...afraid. Afraid to set foot in their own element? Why would that be?

"Is that not your home...?" Her voice is faintly curious, as she strides across the sands to them. They turn to face her, eyes alarmed, and she spreads both hands wide in a gesture of surrender.

"Peace. I am no enemy, sent here to harm you. I am simply a wanderer, who wishes to know why people of Water seem so afraid to enter their element."

The youngest--a girl, she sees now--breaks down in tears; one of the older ones wraps his arms around her, and his eyes are the turbulent gray of storms about to strike.

"We have been exiled, Stranger." His voice is leaden, and bleak with hopelessness. "As have many others. Sent from Naaulis with nothing, told that if we enter the water we are treasonous. And we are not alone; bands of us roam this desolate land, and are preyed upon by dragons. Esuil has lost his mind; he calls us traitors for wishing more interaction with others, says we betray the fine and noble standing of the Elementals...but we must interact with the world, or we grow stagnant, and die. I suspect that by now all that is left of the people in Naaulis are those who are his army, or those who are simply too afraid to speak."

Aillyn's head tilts to the side, as she watches these elementals; she is silent, for a long moment, appraising them. "And? What do you intend to do about this? There is only one of him, and there are--if you are to be believed--many of you. What do you intend to do?"

"Fight, of course!" That was another voice; Aillyn's lips crooked in a faint smile at the passion in his tone. "We have no leader, but we can get gathered...we'll fight! We have to fight...Naaulis is our home."

The goddess of War's smile grows, and she unsheathes her blade; it glimmers in the light, and once again the eyes of the elementals go wide.

"I am Aillyn, Goddess of War, exiled daughter of Calduras, and I will lead you."

[Nefarion Xid]

Nestled in the shattered mountain peaks at the heart of the continent was the Cauldron, a monument to the vanity and might of the Fire King. A jagged, impassible peninsula jutted out into a lake of fire a hundred miles across. There sat the Obsidian Throne, appropriately immense to accommodate the master of the realm. Calduras lounged there, his tail encircling the throne and lazily dipping into the lava. Glassy black plates locked together over his body and blinding light shone from the gaps in his armor. His lesser sons hung on the cliffs above and peeked out of their caves. Every red eye was set on the tiny figure making his way across the lake.

Flanked by his two elemental guards, Casimir strode nobly across the lake with his head held high. Molten rock greeted his bare feet like grass; other gods would have been in agony. As he passed, the elementals slithered up from the lava and roared to herald his arrival before joining the procession towards the throne. His leather tunic was in tatters and he still bore the half-healed wounds from his brothers' beating. His left fist remained clenched at his side. The concealed gem pulsed with an invisible energy and the elementals could taste its power.

When the prince reached the island, he advanced wordlessly towards the black slab laid out before Calduras. The elementals waited at the shore and clawed anxiously at the rock, cowed by the tyrant's presence. Calduras had defeated and consumed countless of their kind. They dared not approach in his current mal humor.

Immediately he was set upon by a pair of dragons who grabbed him by the shoulders and forced him to kneel upon the slab. Casimir forced his head up enough to speak.

"When my brothers have had their fill, will you throw the scraps to yours?"

"Silence!" snarled Calduras, his serpentine neck craning towards the slab. "You had your chance to be bold. Now you will be fuel for my true sons."

The elementals bellowed from the island's edge, decrying their denial. A thunderous roar from Calduras silenced them and they began to withdraw into the lava. Suddenly the dragons pinning Casimir swooned and fell to the ground, their energy sapped in a moment. The prince leapt to his feet and held his gauntlet aloft to unveil the gem it contained.

"They grow weary of your gluttony! You take everything for yourself and your pets keep them as your slaves!"

The brilliantly wrought gem was more than a conduit of power, it was a compact with fire itself. The power of flame would be Casimir's if only he would keep it and tend it. Outraged, Calduras flew from his throne and set on his son in a maelstrom of claws and fire. The flames washed over his skin and redoubled at his will, shielding him from Calduras' attacks and batting him away. No longer afraid of their tyrant king, the elementals flew from the lava's edge and swarmed by the hundreds. They tore away the armor plates and drank deeply from Calduras' form. The prince stood still, silently pleading with the primal element to spare his father, to simply leave him diminished and impotent, but the swarm would not be denied its hunger or its vengeance. In moments, the fire of Calduras was snuffed out and his great armor lay scattered about the field and the elementals relished in their new found power and glory. The dragons screamed down from the rocky cliffs and the elementals laughed back and rushed towards them to fully sate their blood lust. Most took to the sky and fled for distance lands, the more clever among their breed bowed low and made their mark upon the earth, swearing their obedience to the new lord... though they snarled as they did so.

Casimir remained behind a while, running his hand over his father's horned helmet with downcast eyes.

[hi-mi-tsu]

It was the work of days, of weeks, though Aillyn had no way to reckon time; the same diffuse light covered the surface, no matter what. It was different than the ruddy light she was used to, the flickering of flames or the constant deep red of the lava streams.

She did not mind the difference; it reminded her only too well of what she was doing.

Gathering the exiled elementals was a feat unto itself; they had scattered across the land, though they were always near the water. She rallied them, not with great speeches, but with simple truth: tyranny should not be allowed, not when there were those willing to fight it, and she needed them. She needed them to help her save her brother and usurp her father, so she would help them in exchange for them helping her.

By the time her army was fully-gathered, it was a hundred strong; she marched them out to the edge of the water, then took a slow breath and steeled herself. She knew, from what she had heard, that Esuil would be far too cunning to face her on her turf, so she would have to fight on his. She stepped into the water, and kept striding until it covered her head; when this happened, the elementals wove a bubble around her, trapping air in with her and allowing her to breathe. It was in this way that she came to Naaulis; it was in this way that she dispatched of the guards that dared stand in her way, though most fled.

"What is the meaning of this?!?"

The fury of the ocean personified, this was Esuil; he was nothing so much as a shape, a black ripple of the deepest water, the impression of a face.


"Who are you? How come you to my kingdom, with these traitors?"

"I am Aillyn, exiled daughter of Calduras, and I am here to remove you." No guile, not for Aillyn; there was only the truth of the matter.

Not so for Esuil; the Elder elemental's eyes grew crafty, and he settled down, watching her.

"The daughter of my brother, hm...? You must be quite powerful; Calduras was always the strongest of us all...why are you wasting your time with these peons? Support me, I'll rid us of them and make you my wife...you can have all the power you desire."

Aillyn's eyes narrowed, and she shook her head, just once.

"I am not here to become co-consort to a tyrant, nor will I abandon these people for some pretty words. I have had enough of thieves and madness, more than enough of iron-fisted rulers who care not for those they rule!"

She closed with him, in a flurry; water slowed her movements, and Esuil was strong. He was very strong, stronger than she, but she had an army at her back; for every one he struck down, there was another to take their place. At his front was a Goddess, full of divine fury; at his back, those he had wronged, thirsty for revenge. He destroyed her bubble, and she sliced through his embodiment of a hand; in the end, though, it was the elementals that truly won the battle, for in Esuil's element he was nearly immortal. It was only due to her repeated wearing him down, and their snatches of his essence, that the Elder finally dissipated completely; the bubble was re-woven, and Aillyn sucked in breath after heaving breath, fighting to stay on her feet. She was not done, not yet.

With a feat of strength, Aillyn lifted her arms; the entire rough-hewn city of Naaulis was lifted, until the highest point--the palace and throne of Esuil--was out of the water.

(1 AP-1 AP: Shape Land--Create Island.
0 AP remaining.)

No time to recuperate, no; as soon as the city was lifted, she was off, fifty or so of her elementals still with her. The rest had been exhausted by the battle, but she would storm the Cauldron with the fifty she had...

Only that was anticlimactic, for Aillyn came upon elementals greeting her like returned royalty and not like a prisoner, a land largely devoid of dragons, and Casimir, sitting in their father's throne. She stopped in her tracks, looking up at him.

"...Brother...? But...how...?"

[Vadin]

Two of his brothers, brothers who had never seen him, never heard of him, had fallen to children.

If one listened closely and the wind was just right, fleeting laughter could be heard from the darkness that filled the caves and canyons of the increasingly active world.

With an intonation that belied a hidden smile, "So always to tyrants."

[Nefarion Xid]

The passage through the mountains to the Cauldron was not an easy one. The few dragons that remained "loyal" to Casimir regarded the returning princess with disinterest from their clifftop lairs. They really couldn't be bothered to alert Casimir of her arival. Of course, there was always the off chance that she'd trip and fall into a lava flow; that would provide a little entertainment.

When Aillyn arrives at the throne, she finds Casimir in the middle of organizing a search party to find her. "Party" of course meant every fire elemental in the kingdom. It's not like they had anything better to do either. As Aillyn and her host rounded the last bend from the mountains to the throne, a pair of fire elementals simply gestured to the very thing they'd just been tasked to find, cutting Casimir off in the middle of his speech.

Casimir sprinted out and embraced his sister, then quickly held her by the shoulders and surveyed the uncomfortable looking water elementals in tow.

"I was... elected. They just decided it was time for a new leader. Father..." His titanic armored husk was still scattered over the stone slab.

"Eh... your friends?"

[hi-mi-tsu]

"Ah...yes, them. I was...coming to make war on Father and set you free." Aillyn sways, a little, before steeling herself and standing firm; she is exhausted from the fight, and from the grueling trek over the mountains. Pulling away from her brother, for a moment, she goes over to her loyal fighters; a few whispered words, and they all sagged in relief, before dissolving with a splash and a spray into the air. They were water, after all, in any and every form; it would be much easier for them to travel as a vapor back across to their home.

Turning back to Casimir, she smiles, though her eyes are weary, and hugs him again. "I don't know how or why the elementals chose to be on your side, but I am glad...I had thought to find you imprisoned, or worse. Now you have your rightful place, and you earned it in a rightful way...you deserve it, you know. The crown that you wear. You always have..."

[THEChanger]

Ah, yes. I see. This is the way. Through war, through water. Through peace, through fire. But in all things, courage. High above the mountain which had once been the Fire Lord's, something was forming. The mass of energy left in Aeon's wake had floated, watching, waiting. It had seen the efforts of Aillyn against the Ocean, and of Casimir against the Fire. Though such thing had not been given name yet, both had shown the utmost courage. This was something that appealed to the power that saw, and the power awakened. But before I begin, I need a name, and a purpose. A name, a purpose. No. I need not two things. I need one. For the name is the purpose. I am Sealgair. I am the Hunter. Thusly decided, Sealgair brought himself down to the world below him, and looked. This place is unsuitable for the hunt. There is nothing here but the birds which eat each other, and that is oddly disturbing. We must begin to make this place good for prey, so I may hunt. Taking some of the energy which formed his being, Sealgair searched for something the help his efforts. Seeing a small flame nearby, Sealgair took the flame, and mixed it with his own divine essence. The flame grew brighter, and hotter, and Sealgair looked upon what he had wrought, and found it good. A guiding light for all future hunters. This is well-made. Placing the light in the sky, Sealgair rested, for what he had done took much power, and he was new.

Not exactly sure what action this would fall under. Let's call it a greater shape land, and call it a day. Starting AP - 6. Greater Shape Land - 3. New total AP - 3.

[Sir]

On the edges of the world, where the cold winds blew and snow reigned, life was nonexistent, besides for the occasional cannibal bird flying overhead. But one day, the snow started to move. Reaching up and out of the snow, Cold Elementals rose; armored in ice, they were roughly humanoid in shape, but bulkier and less formed. Their eyes were bright blue, shining alight the land before them, and they reveled in the darkness. Happy with the utter cold and blackness, they led good lives before Sealgir put the sun in the sky. This sent them roaring back into their caves, as they had never know such heat! It would take them a long time to adjust, and as they began to figure out that it would stay like that, they're happiness and revelry stopped, replaced by cold malice at worst and reclusiveness at best.

(Create Monster: Cold Elementals=0 AP (1-1), used Cold Domain Weekly)
(Final AP: 6)

[White Blade]

And it ended. There had once been three... Now there were none. Within days, within weeks of one another, it was before Ealdor had begun her counting of the turning of the hours, before the sun had been hung in the sky. She did not know. But there are not been enough time between them to even begin mourning the first before the last had fallen And now... Esuil and Yang-Hanen and Calduras, they all vanished, slaughtered and brought to ash. Warmth, fire, heat, the comfort of Calduras' ever-present warmth. The sweet songs of wind and the terrible drumbeat of thunder. The strength and might of Esuil's immortal waves. They had been been stolen. Taken, by lesser, smaller creatures. And Ealdor was brought low.

The crumbling of the order, it was horrid. Stones and rocks fell and rocked and shifted in the houses beneath the stone where Ealdor had set on her throne forever. Where the strength of mountains were weakened, she crumbled like wheat, and the face of an old woman now replaced her crystal form. She was weak with grief, for now, though the rage broiled in her heart against the transgressors.

[Vadin]

Across the planet, each time the light in the sky dimmed, tendrils stretched out of caves and found purchase in loose soil along the lava flows and river banks of the world. Dangerous looking spires the size of a large hatchling (about 4 to 6 feet tall) grew up towards the angry sky as spores were shot into that same sky, landing on the water and growing down and out.

The scattered lakes were filled with floating photosynthetic pads that seemed to move about the water of their own accord, drifting towards whatever might happen to disturb their aquatic home.

Spiky towers rose along shores of the flowing waters and in the dark, shady places where mountains and cliffs blocked most of the light from above. Whenever an elemental would get too close to the sharp plants, deadly purple tentacles would shoot out and pierce their nebulous forms, drinking in their energies and, occasionally, absorbing some measure of their elemental essence.


http://www.cloister.se/bilder/Panpanarih%201a.jpghttp://fc03.deviantart.net/fs70/i/2010/149/1/b/The_Monsters_In_The_Water_by_SinSeaward.jpg
[6AP - 1AP (Create Plant: Hungry Spire Plants, spread by tendrils) - 1AP (Create Plant: Hungry Aquatic Plants, spread by spores from tendrils) + 3AP (Rollover 11/25) = 7 AP]

[Nefarion Xid]

Casimir wore his crown better than he ever had. It was unadorned, but formed from a solid piece of exquisite black glass. Two draconic horns swept back from the brow, giving him a superficial resemblance to his brothers. His ashen hair was tied back and pinned with a gold shard topped with a polished ruby; it was a simple thing he had made while recuperating.

He rested with his sister for a time and recounted for he how their father had fallen. Mostly he listened happily as she told him of the wonders she'd seen and of her battle with Esuil. Casimir was struck with a wanderlust and soon decided he wanted to see the world too, as he'd spent his entire life in this land of ash and fire. But, if he were to travel, he would need a steward to manage the affairs of his kingdom while he was gone.

To this end, he crafted the Ragni, the Keepers. Taking an obsidian dagger to his wrist, Casimir mixed blood with flame and pulled from the lava flows beings much like himself. Dutiful and patient, like their maker, they went without bidding to tend to the elementals and befriend them. Appeased and glad of the company, the fire elementals wouldn't run amok while Casimir was gone.

Before he and his sister could make their plans to set out (having decided to go in search of other divinities and their mother) they saw the great light take to the sky. At first, Casimir feared another primal elemental lord had risen in Calduras' stead, but then he felt the presence in his land and knew it to be something not unlike himself. Trekking into the mountains in search of the being, Casimir called out, "I am Prince Casimir and this is my realm. This is my sister, Aillyn the Warrior. Who are you that illuminated the sky?"

Though the sky over the western continent was still choked with volcanic ash, the new sun was still an impressive display and filled the land with dim gray light.

(+3 AP, Week 2 Rollover)
(Create Race: Ragni (-3 AP, +1 Fire Domain)
(Final AP: 1)

The Ragni are a humanoid race tasked with shepherding the fire elementals and maintaining the volcanic lands. They are slightly taller than humans on average with dense, muscular builds and large hands. Imperial and sometimes intimidating, they are unmistakable as magical creatures from their carriage to their amber colored eyes. Their hair ranges from inky black to ashen and their skin is tanned with a slightly metallic tint. Though appearing calm, almost perpetually bored, they are creatures of intense passion; they just seldom show emotion until it reaches a critical level. The emotions of others weigh heavily on them as well, having a natural gift of great empathy. The fury or anguish of a Ragni is a sight that other races never forget. Ragni are prone to fits of obsession and will work on projects to the exclusion of almost everything else until completion or boredom or frustration. This, combined with their immunity to fire, makes them peerless metal workers... though not ones who keep deadlines.

Ragni, Keepers of Flame Proto-civilization; Population 1
Faith: 1 (Casimir)
Military: 1
Culture: 1
Space: 8,13 (The Cauldron)

[THEChanger]

Ah, so these are the brave ones. Well met, Prince Casimir and Aillyn the Warrior. I am Sealgair, the Hunter. It was I who placed this great light in the sky. A blood-red light decended from the sky to meet the pair of divinities below. Slowly, the light expanded, and coallesed into something like them two. A tall, broad-shouldered man, of fair hair and bronze skin. Blood-red symbols moved across the skin, combining and recombining, telling stories of great deeds, done and yet to be done. The man looked down at his new-formed body, and the symbols which adorned his skin. Well. This was rather unexpected. I wasn't sure what I would look like. And these things on me. Yes. Runes, I think. Turning back to his hosts, Sealgair gave a small bow to Prince Casimir. Thank you for allowing me to use a small bit of your fire to bring light to this world. I do hope I shall be able to repay that in the future. Also, I must thank you both. If not for your deeds this day, I would not be. And with that said, I fear I must be on my way. This world is still hostile, and I have much work to do if my people are to have a place to live. And so, with a second bow to Casimir and a blown kiss towards Aillyn, Sealgair began to run. He ran south, and came to the sea. He kept running, straight over the ocean, until he came to a new land. The place was still barren, but that would change. This would be the place his people came into being. But for now, Sealgair would rest. He had done much, and he needed more strength to continue.
Create Concept - Runic Writing +1 Culture. -2 AP. New total AP: 1

[TheDarkDM]

Death.

Zeriex could feel the dying light of the elder elementals as they were snuffed out by their own progeny, as order and humanity replaced the primal rage that was their wont. And with each passing, the nameless malice around him shuddered in pain, for each was a blow against its rapacious nature. Yet, Zeriex could not have challenged his maker had it not been for the creation of the Keepers, for their mortal lusts and envies, their nuanced hatreds flowed into him in a great wave. Too late, the nameless malice sensed the tumescent sentience within it, and as the darkness turned to consume him it was itself consumed, sucked into Zeriex's form through a vortex of nascent divine energy. Suddenly floating in an empty void, Zeriex only had a moment to ponder the implications of such a space before he was pulled from his reverie by the very force of creation itself, dragging him from the hidden place of the nameless malice and into the light of a young sun.

As Casimir and Aillyn stood making their goodbyes to Sealgair, a shadow seemed to fall over the sun. Looking up, Casimir was shocked to see a roiling sphere of noxious black cloud, sprung fully formed from nowhere. With incredible speed, the sphere seemed to expand, so large it seemed likely to devour the sky, until it was gone, and falling through the air was a humanoid form, clad in inky black garments of impeccable cut and taste. The man, for it seemed the figure was male, landed heavily in the dirt a few paces from the divine siblings, but before they could react he was on his feet. As the new arrival stared about in apparent wonder, Casimir and Aillyn could not help but notice the shadows that were his eyes, the cruel turn of his smile, and the subtle aura of darkness the stranger seemed to emit. Then, Zeriex's eyes fell upon the siblings, and his face split into a grin.

"Haha! I made it! I knew you two could do it!"

Without moving a muscle, Zeriex was suddenly standing before Aillyn, and despite her warrior training she could not react before she was locked in an embrace, dipped low with the new god's lips against hers. For a moment she tasted every forgotten, hidden lust she'd ever known, but then they parted and the impudent newcomer was leaning on her brother.

"Nothing like a little patricide to warm the blood, eh? Oh, not to impugn your own efforts, my lady, familicide is equally stimulating!"

Then the figure was off again, disappearing from sight before Aillyn noticed him lounging on an overhanging rock.

"Now then! It's quite a barren world you've created, isn't it. But not to worry, I'm sure these lands will be crawling with life soon enough!"

[Vadin]

If any gods had been paying attention, they might have noticed a few buzzing flies. If they'd noticed the flies, they might have noticed the even smaller burrowing larvae they came from. If they'd noticed the larvae, they might have noticed the eggs. If they'd noticed the eggs, they might have realized that they were springing from the center of small clusters of grass that were rapidly spreading along the same growth patterns as the (for lack of a better word) cacti, though their reach did extend further than the tendrils of the hungry plants.

When the itsy-bitsy flies mate, the male burrows a hole for the expecting female to crawl into. After she gets a few inches deep, the male seals her into her tomb and spends his last few hours trying to fly as far away as he can to distract the ever-present kookaburras away from his mate. When the mother lays her egg (really a seed), she passes on and feeds the plant that grows up around her. When the cluster of grass gets big enough (not too short a time by any reckoning), a dozen eggs or so growing in the roots of the plant hatch and dig their way out of the ground to spend an evening in the cool of the darkness trying furiously to find a mate and a place to dig their own little cave. When a field of grassflies all bloomed at once (as grasses near each other tended to hatch all on the same cool, dark night), their numbers were so great they could easily suffocate a kookaburra or blind an elemental.

Flygrass and grassflies, two things really one and the same if anyone were to try and notice, spread around much of the world quite quickly thanks to short life cycles, quick wings, and the safe areas provided by their dangerous protectors (whose sweet tasting spores both attracted and distracted the ubiquitous birds).


7AP - 1AP (Create Animal: Grassflies) = 6 AP

[hi-mi-tsu]

"Well, it was nice knowing you." Casimir's murmured words only barely reached Aillyn's ears; the goddess was rooted to the spot, and Zeriex should consider himself lucky. Had she been in full health, his head would have been rolling on the stone...but she was not. She was tired from days, weeks' worth of grueling work that had been followed by a fight, and a difficult trek over the mountains; as a result, when the strange man had bent her over and kissed her, she could only gasp. She was not much of one for hidden lusts, or forbidden things, but...

"You are lucky I do not slay you where you stand." Her voice is ice-cold, as she eyes the stranger. "For such disrespectful behavior..." When Zeriex moves, her eyes follow him, watching him closely. She is so tired, but it seems they have to deal with this before she can rest...

"What is your purpose here? And what do you mean, the world we have created? We were merely born here."

[Lord_Asmodeus]

Rise of Order, Heart of Law

The universe had been born of Chaos and Dreams, and had been choked with violence, discord and the haphazard clash of nature and the elements, but slowly this had changed, the children of the Elements had risen up against them, and order began slowly to thrive. And with the growth of true Law, so too did Law begin to manifest itself. Upon the crown of the worldi, where the ice grew thickest and strongest, a slow, methodical rumble began to sound. It thumped, and creaked, a mechanical grind, like a machine-heart, pumping slowly.

There was what seemed like an everturning system, complex and rhythmic, though it was truly no physical thing. It pulsed and ground, and though it's rhythm was akin to a heart, no warmth or life-blood flowed from the formless visage of perfect order, it was as cold as the dark barren ice that surrounded it. And the cold heart waited, though it did not know it waited, for something to change...

[Nefarion Xid]

North of the Cauldron
Casimir, Aillyn and Zeriex

Casimir folded his arms, a winning smile hiding his annoyance. He had the look of a warrior, but none of the accouterments; though his gauntlet would have made a formidable weapon had he the mind to use it as such. The gem in his palm trembled with power, and pulsed with the heartbeat of the element is symbolized. Fire was, of course, not the most tolerant element, but its master was most patient... despite his natural inclination to incinerate the curiously dressed slinky fool and save the world a lot of trouble. Whatever this creature was, he didn't feel right. The prince began to wonder how wicked and twisted was the world.

"Where I come from, it is considered polite, for those with the capacity, to introduce themselves. At first glance you seem more intelligent than the elementals. And, coincidentally, here is from where I do come. Since you've already denied us the tradition of swift death for insolent behavior, pray, indulge us with an introduction at least."

[TheDarkDM]

Zeriex frowned slightly at Aillyn's threat, but a smile returned to his face as she and Casimir asked their questions. Standing on the slab of rock he'd been reclining on, he gave a theatrical bow.

"Of course, how rude of me not to introduce myself! I am Zeriex, embodiment of Evil, Prince of Sin, Supper of Torments. I have been freed from my dark prison by your actions, and I sincerely thank you. For, whether you believe it or not, you have created this world. Two of the elementals who ruled this land have fallen to your hands, and another has disappeared, leaving the last to crumble into ignominity. Now is your time! You are the ones who will shape this world in the future, for you have usurped your forebears in violence and blood!"

[Nefarion Xid]

Casimir gestures towards Zeriex with an open palm, granting him a flash of the bloody red stone in his gauntlet. His bemused look turns stern.

"I didn't kill Calduras. His own brothers drained him of power... he was consumed by his own fire and I was powerless to stop them."

He paces. In this, the dawn of the world, even someone so wise as the prince only had a fleeting familiarity with virtue. He had been the first to challenge the maxim of "might makes right". Good and evil were strange and hazy terms. Still...

"If you are who you say, why tell us this? Surely you would gain more by deceiving us and concealing your nature. Do you mean to make adversaries of us both? We seem to be in the business of disposing of evil creatures, after all."

[hi-mi-tsu]

"I am in no 'business'. Of disposing anyone." Aillyn's voice, cool and reserved, cut through the end of her brother's statement; her eyes flicker, and she presses her hand to the stone, lifting a seat out of the bare rock so that she can settle down.

"It was only because the elementals wished to rid themselves of Esuil that I assisted. And I, like my brother, succeeded only because of their help. If you believe us to be like-minded individuals, I am afraid you are sorely mistaken."

[TheDarkDM]

"Ah, but were it not for you two, both would still be alive. The conditions for violence are always present - it takes the right catalyst, though, to create a reaction. Whether you wish to recognize it or not, it is your actions that led to the deaths of your father and uncle and your subsequent elevation into gods!

As to my identity, why would I conceal myself from my rescuers? Were it not for your wrath and sorrow, your violent rage and subtle scheming, I would still be locked in the black vaults of the nether, unable to walk this world. Now, I can sample all this land and its mortals have to offer, all because of you!"

[Nefarion Xid]

Casimir becomes again annoyed with the newcomer's antics and coy speech. He massages his temples for a moment before jerking a finger in Zeriex's direction.

"There will be no 'sampling' in my kingdom. If you are what you say, I cannot abide your presence. Remove yourself from my lands or surrender at once! If you do not, we will be forced to subdue you."

He snapped his hand shut and the land shuddered in response.

[Vadin]

The land shuddered, and those vibrations were felt far off.

On the large island in the south, where the flygrass grew freely and made the world green as far as the eye could see, a curious little beastie poked his head out of a cave. The wee fairy armadillo (a scant six inches long) looked out into the light and jumped a few feet in the air when a low growl came from behind, followed by heavy the heavy stomps of a giant armadillo (an impressive four feet in length and walking as often on four legs as hunched over on two). A few armadillos were found in the rest of the world as well, feeding off scattered patches of grass, fighting cacti for their fleshy interiors and succulent tendrils, and nibbling at the shroompads that drifted close enough to the shore for a hopeful 'dillo to munch.

The smallest species of 'dillos fed on the grass and their meaty roots, while the largest ate their tiny cousins and whole clumps of egg-laden grass. The big ones ranged far and wide, small in number but the most notable thing on the continent by far. They slept in the caves and shadowy canyons and rocky overhands that dotted the continent during the day and gorged themselves at dusk and dawn. The littlest 'dillos burrowed beneath the ground and dug complex dens to hide themselves from the bigger brothers, only coming out to feed in the cool of the early evening and retreating back to safety when the hot sun scorched the morning dew off the misty fields of grass.

Such was the beginning of the changing of the world as according to Bakuro's plans, the beginning of a process long and tedious, a process that would ultimately leave the world totally alien to the elementals that had first been witnesses to it and first called it home.

6AP + 3AP (Rollover 12/2) - 7AP (Terraform: 7 contiguous squares of grassland on the southern continent on the left half of the world) -1AP(Darkness domain power: Create Animals: Armadillos) = 2AP

[Sir]

I noticed there is no snow on that map at all, so I guess I shall make all the squares I need. For RP purposes I will say it already existed, but I'll still spend AP.

In the north, on a large Island, a group of cold elementals were sitting in a cave, mostly practice fighting and manipulating snow. It was a small community of them, about four who had banded together, and they sat inside the cave for now, out of sight of the sun and birds. Just below the ice though, a thought stirred, alighting another. The snow and cold had gained intelligence, and this was its manifestation, which sat in its tomb of ice and snow for a moment, thinking. Slowly, just outside of the cave, a beautiful maiden rose out of the snow, not displacing a single flake, garbed in a flowing white gown. She had a smile on her face as she calmly looked across the horizon, enjoying the sight of the wasteland of cold, squinting at the sun as its rays reflected off the snow, making it shine.

She leapt into the air, spinning as she did, grinning with delight at her new body, floating hundreds of feet in the air. She decided to see what the rest of the world was like, so she flew far away, over the oceans and wastelands, far above the kingdoms of the Ragni (she didn't stop there because the dragons and fire didn't look friendly), and finally stopped in the grasslands, landing in a huge field. She plucked one of the flygrasses out of the ground and looked it over, admiring the perfect cycle that it symbolized. With it in hand, she flew back to her home in the icey wastelands, and put it in the ground, and watched it, expecting a field to grow. She watched for a day, looking over the little plant as it quickly died in the weather, frowning at the results. In a high yet mature voice, she notes"Good idea, but not good enough... I know!" She then takes some snow and ice, and fashions the first bush, built to withstand the harsh winters of cold. Its leaves form a dome shape in the extreme cold and interlock, freezing solid so getting inside is a challenge for both the wind and animals. If you can though, its blue berries are plentiful and good. She spread the plants across the continent, and was pleased with her work.

She then sprinted across the snow, coming to a flatland, and looked it over for a place to rest, before remembering her new-found power. Closing her eyes and concentrating hard with her outstreched, she lifted a two-story palace out of the snow. Not overly big by divine standards, more like a large house, she walks in the door, frowning at the empty rooms and walls. Quickly she fashioned pillars of ice of various sizes to sit on and put things on, and a bed of snow that would never melt in a room on the second floor that provided the utmost of comfort, if you ignored the cold.

Not sure if her home needs AP to make or comes with the shape land, so I shall assume the latter.

9 AP-7 AP (Terraform: Glaciers, Tundras, Snow, etc.)-0 AP (Create Animal: Shield Bush, Cold Domain Weekly used) = 3 AP left.

A map of the target of my shaping, with the bright square being the palace:

http://img716.imageshack.us/img716/3051/changestoaeon.png

[Lord_Asmodeus]

Unnamed Divinity, Northern Island

The slowly beating unheart of Law had settled deep into the ice and snows of the roof of the world, it's ethereal form pulsing with the nascent energies of divinity, being slowly drawn into the Heart of Law with every concordant turn. Slowly, inexorably, the power was gathered from all over the world, until finally it had gathered enough, and even above the ice there was an audible *click*, like a massively complicated safe's tumblers finally falling into place. And then the ice began to crack.

Fissures formed, the land was in upheaval, there was a colossal shift of ice and land, massive chunks falling away, ice and land being thrust upward, sheer cliffs and mountains of ice and rock forming. But, eventually, the upheaval settled, and in the midst of it was what looked like half-structure half-landscape. Massive stacks rose from the top of it, metal pipes dug deep into the ice and the earth, turning gears and clanking pistons clanged and shifted all about it slowly, as if a great resting beast, and it seemed to be slowly, slowly expanding.

And then, suddenly, it juttered into manic activity. The gears squealed, the pistons fired into unparalleled speeds, smoke began to waft from the towers, and there was a great groaning from the pipes and underneath the structure, as the snaking metal veins began to pour materials into the foundry above. Rumbling could be heard, as well as high pitched whining sounds, the grating of metal-on-metal, and all the varied sounds of heavy industry, not yet felt in the primal world. After this activity had been roaring for quite some time, it began to slow. It did not slow to it's previous levels of relaxed activity, but it reached a midpoint between the two states, and what appeared to be massive doors slid upward into the metal structure, and from it appeared shapes.

Like the elementals the constructs were not well defined in many ways, they barely had faces, if they did at all, and they were not well detailed in their features. They were made of the materials found in the area nearby, ice, stone, dirt, mud and even crystals, diamonds, and metals. All the creatures were symmetrical, and began to fan out in even numbered groups, moving methodically and in perfect lockstep with their brothers, they began to explore the island, where others stayed behind, to guard the vast factory.

2AP=6AP-3AP Greater Shape Land (turn area surrounding the Foundry into a semi-mountainous, valley-like region) -1AP Create Monster- Golems.

Edit: I didn't know if making golems in general with one action was okay, I can change it if not.

[TheDarkDM]

Zeriex tsk'ed at Casimir as he made his threats, leaning on a stony outcrop as though he were talking to a trusted friend rather than a newly created Lord of Fire. Then, he raised his shoulders in a defeated shrug.

"Very well, Lord of Fire, I shall do as you say. I would be loath to offend you after your many kindnesses, and I can return once the inevitable backlash of your actions strikes. I think I'd like to explore the west...yes, that sounds lovely. Ta!"

With that, Zeriex was gone, leaving behind a coiling cloud of black smoke.

[Fierywasabi231]

Place holder for last use of Aeon.

Also creation of Fuu and first two mortal races.

Aeon continues to be tortured by the vivid memories of worlds past and quite literally tears them away. The excised part of his form floats away and dissipates into the wind, perhaps to be seen again. With the visions and dreams suddenly gone, Aeon's face stretches into a rapturous smile, perhaps his last, and he continues to plod on his way around to an unknown destination.

[DaBull]

The World
And so, with Aeon's passing, the unnatural light that had lit the Material Plane up to this point also dissipated, leaving a world lit only be the sun and the plethora of volcanic eruptions that dotted the surface of the world.

North of the Cauldron
The left foot of The Laughing God shifted a small stone on a rocky outcropping some distance from the meeting at hand. It clattered down the slope, dislodging another stone or two as it fell, making a small chorus of rustling. The Laughing God glanced in the direction of the noise, but only for a second.

"They're too far to hear it." he thought to himself.
"Pity."

His eyes returned to catch the puff of smoke that was The Tempter's exit.

A kookaburra winged down between the assembled deities, attempting to land on the left shoulder of the Peaceful Flame.

"Only decent that they have some chance to know I'm watching."

The Laughing God chuckled to himself lightly. His eyes glowed with the light of the newborn sun.

The Cauldron
An olive figure topped with a shock of white plummeted fro the rim of The Cauldron to its floor.

Minutes later, wrinkled fingers turned a scale from Calduras' armor this way and that.
"Most certainly a fitting place to start."

[Vadin]

The Grassland

The armadillos were, suffice it to say, confused. These little...plants? Plants, probably, that's what they looked like. But they had these weird brown things inside them that were tough and chewy. They were edible, though, and that was what mattered. Some of these shrubs had berries sometimes, too. Those berries were pretty excellent. Armadillos love berries.

Various types of shrubs and bushes had grown up in the grasslands in the generations of armadillos since their birth from the caves. Those generations had not been idle, and now the wee (and sometimes not so wee) 'dillos spread far and wide across the land.

Another newcomer to the plains was of far graver concern than the unusual flora. As far as the armadillos could tell, some kind of furry monsters had shown up and decided that they were all delicious (especially the giant 'dillos, the ones with a taste for other armadillos).

The saber-toothed tigers weren't any bigger than the biggest of the armadillos, and it did indeed happen sometimes that the solitary cats were overpowered by the armored rodents. Far more often than that, however, they just got flipped over and gutted.

In a certain cave in a certain hill next to a certain volcano next to a certain prairie something stirred. It shifted. It slithered. It slumbered still.

A certain smell emanated, however, a certain smell that crept through the air looking like a certain untimely fog. That fog-that-should-not-sink surrounded this certain cave, and all a certain community of a certain species of armadillo used this place of obfuscation to their advantage. They dug inside, clawing away at little tunnels and warrens and burrows, bringing them slowly but surely into order. The network of connected passages grew bigger and bigger, following some strange and unnatural sense of correctness instinctively shared by the armadillos. There they turned this hill into their first colony.

And just as the grass would have been known to have been caused by the flies if any mortals had been watching but none had, had there been any mortals around they would have seen a little nine-banded armadillo sorely out of place in a land with flows of lava flowing quite freely. And if any mortals had been around to notice they might have detected some strange gas flowing quite freely from some strange cave. But of course, no mortals had been around.

2AP - 1AP (Create Plant: Shrubs) - 1AP (Create Animal: Sabre-Toothed Tigers) = 0AP

[Nefarion Xid]

Casimir's fingertips rested gingerly on the point of Aillyn's blade, apparently arresting the blade with the slightest touch. In reality, it was Aillyn's speed and grace that saved Casimir's fingers. But, it was Casimir's intervention that saved the bird, and the messenger was allowed to alight on the prince's shoulder. He removed his fingers from the sword and scratched the bird's throat and breast, instinctivly knowing how to handle the creature, though he'd never seen one. His new feathered friend cooed happily and melted into his touch.

"Hmm? Is that your master poking around my domain? He should learn to announce himself. It's not polite to go sneaking about in a man's kingdom."

[DaBull]

North of The Cauldron

The kookaburra cackles lightly and begins to nibble at Casimir's fingers lightly. Considering the sharpness of a kookaburra's beak, this is not an entirely enjoyable experience.

[hi-mi-tsu]

Casimir had wished to save the bird. Well, that was fine; she let her sword drop, the barest amount, until her brother made mention of someone wandering about his realm. And this bird was the messenger of that someone, and Aillyn was tired and frustrated with all of these people that kept showing up.

The Goddess of War reaches out and grabs the kookaburra around the neck, tugging it off her brother's shoulder with a startled squawk, and holds it aloft.

"I am tired of games." Her voice is low, and dangerous. "Show yourself, whoever you are, or I dash your 'messenger' upon the rock and then come for you anyways."

Apparently, Aillyn's patience had ran out.

[DaBull]

The Cauldron

The wrinkled hands pause.

"Mmm... disappointing."

The Laughing God moves over toward the rough shape of a torso picked out in heavy scales arranged on the ground. He shifts some scales from one place or another, rearranging them into a more feminine shape.

[hi-mi-tsu]

"...Fine." True to her word, Aillyn dashes the bird on the stone, crushing the head beneath her heel; the Goddess of War had a long patience, but when it was gone it was gone completely. She stalks across the Cauldron, skirting her father's--technically Casimir's, now, but it was hard to forget--throne and striking out across the stone. After a moment she stops, and listens; there! A scraping of something over rock, to the south, and her steps gain purpose as she crests the ridge that had been separating her from her prey.

The sword gleams as it is pointed at the Laughing God; Aillyn's pale eyes are flinty and uncompromising.

"You. You will come with me, back to my brother, and you will introduce yourself properly to the Lord of this realm. And if you do not come peacefully, I can force you there. However, you may be in pieces when you arrive, if you choose the latter route."

[DaBull]

The Laughing God, The Cauldron

The Laughing God turns around slowly to reveal an ill-fitting suit of black scale armor under his olive coat. The scales gleam dully, as though lacquered. A closer inspection reveals that the armor seems to be a woman's suit.

The Laughing God puts his fists to his hips and laughs. It echoes across The Cauldron, somehow... twisted by the shape of the basin? Or maybe by their own design?

As he quiets down, his eyes come to meet The Wet One's, scorching with lava-fire.
"A bit of your mettle I'd fair like to see,
But that's maybe a reason not to threaten me,
But then those are things that will be as they'll be.
Either way,
You won't easily poke a hole in this.
And why bother with an invitation so forcefully?
Can't you both travel,
Same as me?
This is, after all, your home, his throne,
Would it not be
Done more prudently
To instead come to me?"

2 AP = 6 AP - (5 AP (Create Combat Artifact: Discordant Plates) - 1 AP (Madness Domain Discount))

[hi-mi-tsu]

"Why, you disrespectful little--" Aillyn starts towards the offender, in a fine fury, then stops abruptly. Pause. Think. Be rational about this.

Her voice is careful, when next she speaks. There is something about this creature that makes her...wary.

"Perhaps it would have been prudent, had we known where you were. However, you are in my brother's kingdom, and it is customary for visitors to introduce themselves, as opposed to forcing the natives to seek them out. I believe you should come with me, now."

[Nefarion Xid]

The prince gritted his teeth and clenched his fists as Aillyn snatched the bird away and summarily dispatched it. He thought for a moment about scolding his sister, but he knew her mood and knew it wouldn't matter. After incinerating the bird's remains he pauses to center himself before jaunting after Aillyn.

The Obsidian Throne

"No need to relocate, but I'll let you introduce yourself all the same." Casimir materializes by Aillyn in a feat reminiscent of a log burning to ash in reverse. His eyes lock on the interloper passively. If he was offended by the stranger trespassing in his lands and stealing his father's remains, he didn't show on his face.

"A dragon's age and no one.... then this," he mutters.

[DaBull]

The Cauldron

The Laughing God draws himself up, and then lowers in a respectful bow. Well, as respectful as one can with a woman's suit of armor strapped jauntily to their frame.

He then breaks out into a broad smile.

"Let me apologize for my impudence.
I surely meant no true offense.
Instead,
I am not used
To being so reduced
By a threat at meeting's begin.
But now that we are so far in,
Let me greet the Lady with a good greeting,
And make my long wind fleeting,
And cease my great winded bleating,
But now I just digress.
The one that has caused you so much distress,
Can be in name Ozymandias."

And with a hiccup and a giggle, The Laughing God is silent.

[Aux-Ash]

The water was thundering as it was gushing down the rapids, a low but neverceasing rumble as every day tons of water were rushing down along the river towards the seas. The site was carefully chosen, close to a river so water would be plentiful, but on a slope so that it would be constantly moving and keeping the cacti from growing. There on a small level area on the slope, which was anything but steep, lay the camp, the home.

The Tahlar settlement was not much to look at. Little more than stamped dirt surrounding a few fireplaces to keep them warm at night. When the world grew dark the Tahlar would gather and huddle together and cook the food that had been gathered. Folding packages of pakapong pads containing a mix of berries, unhatched grassflies and the odd armadillo or kookaburra and placing them next to the fire, letting them cook properly as the elder told stories and legends of the ancient times. Of the stars, of ancient heroes and the spirits of the world; the pakapong, the kookaburra and finniburra, the smilodon, the grassfly, the river and the sun. All strong and powerful spirits, each with a place in the world. To be respected and worshipped.

As the night grew long the Tahlar would huddle together around each fire, warmed by each others and the embers of the burning shrubs. As dawn came they would rise and collect their tools made out of bone, shells and stone. Crude and clumsy, but useful. Women and children collecting berries and grassflies, as the men hunted for armadillos and braved the water edge, scooping the pads with the shells.

It was not the only camp of it's kind, there were many in the river valley. All close to the streams and rapids, where the pakapong would not get them but close to all the food. There they lived... and where triving. A hard, but strengthening life.

[Sir]

Vesas, The Top of Her Home

Vesas looked upon the rest of the world, and saw that it was lacking. So she decided to look outside her domain and bless it, and faded into the snow, to step out on the very top of a high mountain on the large eastern continent. She recalled the bushes she had created, and formed something like them again, but larger and more suited to the temperate weather. A tree, it is snow white and has large leaves that have the texture of fresh fallen snow, and large blue oval shaped fruits. From its roots though, it spreads frost in a 1-10 foot radius depending on its age, forcing other plants away so it may grow faster. It is not built to cover the continents in frost, but to just provide the gift of cold to the places of the world where it is unknown.

After throwing the seeds across the world, she decided to see if anyone else was out there, and faded back to her home, before alighting into the sky and soaring over the continent she lived on, before coming to a large foundry. Curious, as the pistons and gears were a wonder to even her, she landed next to one of the pistons, and put her mouth to the metal and yelled "Hello? Who has created this place?", so loud that it was heard for miles around. Hey, it was worth a shot!

AP 6-0 (Create Plant: Frost Trees, used Cold Domain Weekly)= 6 AP

[Lord_Asmodeus]

Top of the World, the Foundry

The massive metal factory, alive with industry, the building, if you could rightly call it that, was slowly expanding, new sections slowly building and forming out of the metal of the main building. As Vesas alighted atop the factory and into the metal piston, which rather muffled her voice, all the golems around the factory stopped, and turned toward her at once. Trap doors seemed to open in the top, and metal golems lifted upwards.

All the hundreds of eyes were focused upon the god, they stood as silent sentinels, analyzing her every word, every action, and as they did the actions of the golems exploring the continent became more assured, more fluid. The golems staring at Vesas, who had been standing silently for some time, all intoned a single word.

Countless pseudo-voices were raised, all different depending on the type of golem, like the scraping of ice, the tinny groaning of metal, the grind of stones, but despite this the countless voices, raised one, were not discordant. No roaring army, or chanting zealots this. Merely a single mind, a single voice through hundreds of throats. "Foundry!"

Ever since the foundry had existed, it had been bellowing smoke out of it's massive smoke-stacks, like the ever-open maws of red dragons, belching out smoke and flame towards the sky, and it was gathering, blocking more and more the sun from view, and causing greater and greater snows to fall, and it grew colder and colder. Eventually, this cloud began to spread and expand, slowly moving outwards in all directions. Eventually, it would cover the world, and all evaporated water, with a tint of everything it contained, organic and mineral, into the massed cloud. Upon the bottom of the world, a massive pipe punches up through the sea, topped with a massive funnel, sucking the smoke into the pipes, dug slowly through the earth and ocean by the massive factory.

This process served two major purposes. One purpose was to provide information about the composition of the world, and in various locations to the foundry, for it to analyze, to judge how best to correct the world's inaccuracies and failures, to create a logical plan of action. The second purpose, was to provide an order and rhythm to the world. When all the smoke was gathered over the top or the bottom of the world, the rest of the world would receive the full amount of the suns warmth unchallenged by the cloud, and so it would be hot, though it would vary depending on location. As the cloud slowly spread, it would begin to get colder and colder as the cloud blocked more sun, and the world got less heat overall, finally the cloud would cover the majority of the world, blocking much of the suns light and heat, keeping it cold and snowy over much of the world, though again it varied. As the cloud slowly began to be pulled into the vast funnel at the bottom of the world, to be sucked into the Foundry to analyze, more and more of the sun would be uncovered, and so it would gradually get warmer until the smoke covered only the poles once again.

2AP=8AP-4AP Utility Artifact: Shape Land, Giant Funnel for one square on opposite side of world from foundry creates seasons (ok it doesn't itself actually create the seasons, but mechanically, it does. if that's ok) -1AP Create Concept: Seasons

[Nefarion Xid]

Cauldron, The Obsidian Throne

"And your business?" Casimir's head tilts slowly, but his patient demeanor does not falter. Though his patience was wearing thin, his eyes remain stony. His bare arms cross over his chest. Though a gentle spirit, he is not untouched by the hellish conditions of his homeland and his physique is that of a battled hardened warrior.

"These are my father's remains and I had wished them undisturbed. And that armor you wear is fashioned from something that was not yours to take. I trust you will make amends for your transgressions, or at least repay me."

Book Keeping
Total AP Gained: 12
Fire Elementals: 0 AP (Week 1 Discount)
Red Dragons: -1 AP
Sword of War Artifact: -2 AP
Ragni: -2 AP (Week 2 Discount)
Gift from Aillyn: +2 AP
Gauntlet of Flame Dominion: -5 AP
Current AP: 4, +Week 3 Fire Domain, +2 Charges (Gauntlet)

[THEChanger]

Untouched Continent: Central Valley
Sealgair had run. He had run fast and far, across oceans and mountains, and finally stopped in a valley between two mountain ranges. Others had begun work where he had first stopped, and Sealgair required a fresh place to begin. First, a place for my people to live. This barren ground is unfruitful. I need a forest for the Hunt. Calling up his power once more, Sealgair poured life-giving power into the earth, calling up a vast forest of trees. Huge trees, which would dominate this place for millenia to come. Satisfied, Sealgair continued to walk across his new domain, searching for a good place to start his people.
Rollover AP +3= 4 AP. Greater Shape Land -3= 1 AP. Four squares of forest, right around the middle of those two big mountains on the eastern continent. And so the Tale of Sealgair begins in earnest.

[Vadin]

Below

Minds. So many minds.

Images, emotions, sensations. Colors. Faces. Hatred. Lust. Compassion. Fear. Hunger. Regret. Belonging. Tunnels. Fire. Clouds. Trees. Mountains. Water. Seasons. Sun. Darkness.

So many minds screaming out at once. Some were simple and thought of only one thing at a time. Others considered the future, the past, the feelings and thoughts of creatures beyond themselves. So many minds screaming out at once.

Below the world, Bakuro stirred. They were loud.

If Bakuro only focused on one mind at a time, however, he could shut out the others. With practice, he found he could listen to the grass above and hear an almost complete silence.

In this quiet, Bakuro realized he was not hearing only the grass. He also heard himself. With this stunning realization he severed his mental connection to the much simpler lifeform and achieved for the first time a true autonomy. No longer would Bakuro be forced to listen to the ever increasing multitudes and their loud, uncontrolled thoughts. He was free. Perhaps, thought Bakuro, I should see what they saw for myself.

A certain hole in a certain foggy hill on the southern continent grew taller that day, and the nine-banded armadillos who had called that certain warren and all other tunnels in the hill home were quite confused. The fog around their not-so-little home had grown denser and more pervasive, which was good, but a big tunnel had formed in the side of the hill, a tunnel far larger than even the largest smilodon or giant 'dillo. This was bad. What was neither good nor bad to the armadillos, what was simply confusing, was the big thing at the end of the tunnel. Unlike anything they'd seen before, this big thing had only two legs, and they were absolutely massive. The big thing's body was similarly massive, and from this body came two sets of spiked tentacles. In its chest was what looked like a mouth, noticeable only because a soft rosy light came from the parts where the mouth didn't touch the body, and the same rosy light came from three narrow vertical slits on what they assumed must be the big thing's head.

But the big thing didn't bother them. It didn't make loud noises, it didn't grab at their young and eat them, it just sat there, occasionally moving its arms or mouth, sometimes looking around, but never moving more than a few feet from the back of the cave.

Were any mortals around to notice, they would have seen a certain elder being who had existed since Aeon first saw the darkness acting positively giddy with delight. But of course, none were.

[DaBull]

The Cauldron

The eyes of The Laughing God blaze brighter.

"One may say
My business is plowing the old into the new."

To this The Laughing God chuckles before beginning again.

"And see
That I meant no offense
This armor is not for me
But, mayhaps,
For the lady.

But it is not yet complete.
With the bones of other tyrants
It has yet to deplete,
Only then shall it be done.

So see then that I am not taking for myself
Like some greedy vulture,
But am taking from my brother's husk
To fashion the future.

Make amends,
I will,
If then,
You decide a son's claim
Is not to a brother's the same."

[hi-mi-tsu]

"I have no desire to wear armor fashioned from the remains of tyrants, be they my father's or no." Aillyn's voice cuts through the Laughing God's convoluted reply, and her eyes narrow further. "And you have no proof of lineage, no claim to familial relationship; why, then, should we trust the words of a stranger? I have no time for this."

She turns to her brother, eyes flicking to the skies for a moment. "It seems there is more hostility in this world than I have been prepared for. Though I have been lax, I believe it is time to take my role in earnest."

[Nefarion Xid]

An indignant puff of smoke escapes Casimir's nostrils and trails off. He raises his arm to show the black striped markings of a dragon along his copper skin.

"Here is my mark as heir of Calduras! What proof have you that you are his brother? You are no titan. You look like us, but you have no fire in your veins, nor do you smell of stone or the wind."

Then, in a brief aside to council with his sister. "Do what you think is best. Both our kingdoms will need to be ready to stand against Zeriex and whatever madness lies outside. I will remain here and work to seal the Fire away..."

[Sir]

Vesas glanced wearily at the assembled for a moment, before grinning and clapping for a moment.

"Now that was impressive! Bravo!" She lightly leapt over to the golems, and touched one on the top of the head, curiously looking it over. "If you are a foundry, where is your founder? Er, bad usage of words aside, you must have a maker, or a ruler. Or are you them, or him, or are you... Wait, now I am quite confused, which must be your fault! Who is your ruler, and stop dodging the question!" She pointed at a random Golem, and looked at him like she was immensely annoyed with its silence, which she partially really was, as she had yet to talk to anyone. For some reason, just snow and cold could not please the physical avatar of snow and cold.

[DaBull]

The Cauldron

The grinning old man bursts into powerful laughter.

"And suppose, then,
These wrinkled lines were writ with Youth's pen!

Ages more than my brother's line-
My laugh Aeon's first noted sign-
And you would tell me then,
Because of my scent,
That I am not that which I say I have been?
I suppose you'll refuse to recognize
As well
Those other uncles invisible to your eyes.

And since you've discarded already
Concern with me
To consolidate your heady
Victories,
Delay me no longer,
Shortsighted spawn of Flameguard Past.
But know that at last,
You may seek my speech,
And my armor you might see fit to wear."

[Aux-Ash]

Straws of flygrass was crackling under Rhasa's feet as he stepped closer to the tree, shivering as he felt the cold under his naked feet. The trick to harvesting the nutritious fruit was to move quickly and effectively, smoothly working your way around the tree and picking all the ripe fruit. Systematically working ones way branch by branch and using a sickle made out of sharpened armadillo shell to sever the stalks keeping the fruit up. It wasn't that it was dangerous, just very uncomfortable to spend much time on frost with naked feet.

The fruit was useful. The flesh was nutritious and filling, the sweet taste fitting perfectly with kookaburra as well. The fruit itself was hard and had to be cracked open to reach it, but by just cracking over a small bit the "shell" made a perfect container for berries, seeds, boiled grassfly eggs and even water. All the uses far outweighed the mild discomfort of actually picking the blue fruits. Besides, complaining led to standing a longer time on the frost and Rhasa had learned long ago that it was better to just get it over with quickly.

He grabbed another fruit firmly and brought the sharp shell-sickle down on the stalk, severing it in one quick motion. Taking a step to the right he proceeded with the next branch of the blue fruits, tossing the fruit in his hand into the big basket made out of shrub-branches. The weight of the fruit within starting to weigh him down a bit. Cutting down the final two and tossing them back, he quickly examined the foliage of the tree to see if he missed any before stepping out of the frozen ground under the white foliage.

The young man wiggled his feet briefly to wam them up a bit before beginning the short walk back to the camp. As he returned the camp was, like always, bustling with activity. There were the elders cutting stones and bone and sharpening shells. There were women weaving baskets from the wooden rods that the dried shrubs yielded. Children running about digging upp grassfly eggs and picking berries (and sneaking the occasional one into their mouths). The hunters and the "rivermen" had not returned yet, still out chasing down prey, checking up the traps and harvesting the deadly pakapong pods.

Rhasa put the basket down next to the others and sat himself down next to it and started to pick up and rinse the fruits from leaves, twigs and other inedible things. Around him both men and women doing the same thing with the fruit they collected. Putting it all in separate baskets that when filled was taken to the burrow in which the food was kept (to prevent the larger armadillos from sneaking in at night and stealing food).
As he worked he sneaked a few glances at Tha', the cute girl across from him. He really liked watching her work. She looked up and at once he tried focusing all his attention on his work, trying to seem like he had not been looking but failing as a blush spread over his cheeks. Glancing up again he saw her giving him a smile, which made him blush even more, once again looking down on his work and focusing on it intently.

[Lord_Asmodeus]

The Foundry, Roof of the World

The golems stared blankly at the god, no reaction to the anger of a deity upon their immobile features. If one looked carefully, and could see such things, they could see the spark of brute intelligence behind all their eyes. All these minds were turned to a single task. There was one will. There was one drive. But no mindless automata these, though they were of straightforward intelligence, they were thinking beings nonetheless. They were all of the same mind, though their minds were wholly separate, for they were all cogs in the endless machine, and like the wall crafted cogs they were, they would turn in unison.

And so, as one, their arms swept wide to encompass seemingly all that could be seen about them. What could be seen, for miles and miles, was a massive metal structure, of mostly uniform height, pistons, smokestacks, vents, pipes and fans adorned the top of it, and the same save the smokestacks adorned the sides, as well as countless cogs and gears. For almost as long as one could see did this metal monolith stretch, ringed in the great distance, tinged blue by the vast distance at which they stood from Vesas' position, were mountains of rock and ice around the entirety of the structure. From the vast smokestacks, dotting the top of the Foundry, seemingly at random, though truly shaped in accordance to some obscure mathematical ratio, just as everything about the Foundry, belched smoke and fire into the skies of the world, the vast cloud of smoke had spread as far as the eye could see and beyond.

And so the golems swept their arms out, and chanted once more, all as one, though many, their voices in harmony despite their seeming discord, "The Foundry!" they chanted "The Foundry!" and if one payed attention, they could feel the rhythmic pulse of a divine spark, the spark of Order, of Law, of the eternal Machine which rivaled the Chaos of Nature. And this was their answer.

[Nefarion Xid]

Casimir, sometime later

Legends would speak of how Casimir came to the southern lands from over the seas, walking across the waves as if they were solid ground and leaving a trail of mist in his wake. In truth, the Tahlar had long known how to create fire, but it became a popular telling that it had been a gift from the gentle god - in the stories, a glassy orb of flame simply handed to an elder. But, it was Casimir who first taught them to make brilliant use of the fire. For a year he stayed with the Tahlar and showed them how to fire bricks and ceramics, and of course how to build magnificent kilns. Their dwellings were warm and safe. The great braziers warded off the darkness of the world and the creatures it concealed. Before parting, Casimir vowed to return again with more to teach them once they were ready.

He smiled warmly as he returned home across the sea; the clever prince had also created worship in proper.

(Create Concept: Firing (Bricks, Ceramics, Baking (+1 Culture)) -1 AP (Fire Domain Discount)
(Teach Concept (Firing) to the Tahlar -2 AP)
(Final AP: 1, +2 Artifact charges)

[hi-mi-tsu]

"..." Aillyn pauses, then takes a deep breath, slow and calm, before once again turning her eyes toward the Laughing God. She surveys him, eyes icily calm in her pale face.

"Consolidate my victories...?" Her voice is silky-smooth, and hard like her blade, with an edge sharper than any knife. "Perhaps you fail to understand. There is Battle occurring in this world, self-proclaimed brother of my father, which means I have much work to do. As for your 'advice', if indeed you have any that is cognizant and worth understanding, I would prefer it given only if solicited, which we have not. And to the last...delaying you?"

Her voice drops, gaining the cruel edge of a violent ocean, turbulent and deep, layers upon layers of inflection.

"You have invaded our land and desecrated the corpse of our father. Furthermore, you speak of desecrating other corpses, which, though they be the bodies of tyrants, deserve to rest undisturbed. You have made the first overtures of War upon my family, invader-god."

Her blade slides free of its sheath, to point directly at the Laughing God.

"Care to insult me further?"

[Vadin]

The Surface

In the utter darkness of a particularly cool night, a field of grassflies were born. This sort of event was usually the sort of thing that made the blackness blacker and clouded what limited nightvision anything around might have, but this time was different.

This time was different because these were not, strictly speaking, grassflies. These were glowflies. Their thin little wings radiated dim green light along the littler veins in those little wings, and the tips of aforementioned wings had a bright green (nearly white) glow to them.

The field exploded in fluttering and lights and all the animals around were terrified and confused and hungry and dove right in and found catching the flies was really no easier now that they could see things as clear as day because the lights were swirling about everywhere like an absolute madhouse.

Across the planet this same change occurred. It was not, however, the only change. As on the ground, the sky above filled with little dots of light. Once only fire and lava broke up the pitch blackness that descended when the sun set. Now, however, night was dimly lit. The world on the surface would no longer fear an absolute dark. Below, of course, was no less dark.

Above

In the space above the world, higher than any kookaburra could ever fly, almost as far up as any god could ever go, massive bulbous toads swam in haphazardly organized schools through the inky darkness and fed on the blackness they called home. It happened, on occasion, that one of them would lose control and fall towards the world below. When they hit, their gargantuan forms left huge craters and their bodies were most often equally devastated, utterly burnt and compacted into hard lumps of stone.

Most often, but not always.

Below

Bakuro was darkness, and darkness was Bakuro's.

Something else of Bakuro's was slowly taking shape in the lumps of clay he carefully manipulated with his six tentacles and primordial will. But it was not this something else's time yet.

The cloud of obscuring fog around Bakuro's cave was matched by similar clouds above the world. In response, Bakuro's fog reached out with lumbering, gaseous tentacles to touch the minds of passing creatures.

3 AP - 1 AP (Darkness domain discount: Create Creature: Stars) = 3 AP

[TheDarkDM]

The Foundry

As Vesas watched the Golems pay homage to their home and birthplace, she caught the faintest trace of a shadow at the corner of her eye. As she turned her gaze upon a shining corner of the Foundry, she saw a black garbed figure sauntering out from between the smokestacks, weaving its way through the mammoth bodies of the golems. Hands clasped behind his back, the man who was not a man gazed curiously about the great factory, until he seemed to suddenly notice Vesas. With a sly smile, he bowed.

"Well, met, my lady - I am Zeriex. It is a rather impressive construction, no? I have not explored a great deal, but it seems as though the power of this place could be used to achieve great things."

As he spoke, Zeriex moved the fingers of his right hand over the steel floor he stood upon. Wherever the dancing shadow of his fingers fell, the metal boiled and blackened, until a pool of liquid midnight bubbled at his feet. Then, the dark god gestured upwards, and the metal flew into the air, consolidating itself into a slim cane of utter black. Frowning, Zeriex looked about as though confused, until his eyes fell on the largest golem in the vicinity. In a twining column of dark smoke, he came to stand before the might beast, and plunged his free hand deep into its chest, the pale flesh of his fingers parting the steel like paper. Flames flared from the golem's mouth as Zeriex grasped its heart and tore it from its body, holding the flaming ball of magical energy in his hand. Holding it up, Zeriex began to hum, and dozens of Golems collapsed to the ground, their life giving flame exploding from their bodies to flow into the heart in Zeriex's hand. With every additional life, the flame grew redder and redder, and the orb somehow grew smaller and smoother. Eventually, it was not flame that Zeriex held, but a ruby the size of a chicken's egg, oval and flawless, with a black flaming heart at the center of its blood red body. Touching the ruby to the writhing end of the still-liquid cane, the black flowed onto it like a lover's embrace, until a twisted tangle of solid metal held the gem aloft and Zeriex brought the cane down on the steel floor with a resounding clang and flashed Vesas a charming smile.

"See, I knew these creatures would be useful somehow."

Acts Used:

5 AP = Create Combat Artifact, the Darksoul Rod, which appears as an elegant metal cane of a slick black metal, topped with a ruby that holds a writhing black flame.

7 AP remaining

[Vadin]

The Pakapong and the Pakapads

The spores, it seemed, had changed. With an established population and worldwide presence, something had triggered in the pakapongs to begin reproducing differently. Instead of counting on the cuttings of long tendrils to grow into new cacti, the spores that had once grown into the pakapads now counted on being eaten by birds so that they could be dropped further away and grow new pakapongs. To this end the pakapongs ceased devouring certain avian species (depending on their environment), trading the birds shelter and safety for wider and more ensured distribution of spores.

The pads, of course, were not to be without their own reproductive and morphological shift. They became smaller, now a scant foot in diameter as opposed to their previous one yard width. Their tendrils that were once so long as to drag on the bottom of most deep riverbeds became thinner, more motile, and only a few inches long. The ends of the tiny tentacles grew minuscule hollow points. The pakapods began to swim faster towards creatures entering their waters (still not fast enough to outpace a determined armadillo, but definitely fast enough to catch a lazy smilodon by surprise). When they found prey, their tentacles would lash out at it and try to work their way beneath the creature's skin to drink the lifeblood inside. The tentaces had a terrible habit of winding their way about between muscles and around bones, making the parasitic pods hard to pull out while they were still vivacious and moist.

The pakapods were all without gender, so any and all of them were capable of growing new pods by being divided. When a pod was forcefully split, any whole portions that were no less than about half the pod's original size could regrow into a whole creature. This catastrophic reproduction further fueled their need to expose themselves to predators and prey alike.

The pods and the cacti were both paid for with separate Create Creature actions, but they didn't diverge into to species until now.

[Aux-Ash]

The Tahlar, Rhasa

Rhasa looked into the kiln, the heat striking against his unprotected face even though the fire had long since died. There in the middle, in a small dusty circle surrounded by piles of ash stood the claywares he had spent the day making. Leaning in an carefully and swiftly patting them, he made sure they were not too hot to touch before carefully lifting them out and inspecting the pots and jars for cracks that might have been caused during the firing.

Carefully and slowly spinning the pottery with his left hand while holding them up on his right palm he dutifully inspected evrey inch. These had to be perfect. Not only were the pots intended to be used for cooking and boiling water, but these in particular had a very specific intent behind them. Nothing short of perfection would do.

Satisfied with his work, he put them down in a basket filled with leaves, hoisting the basket up and leaving the large domed kiln behind him. It was the oldest building in the village, having replaced the previous kiln made out of piled rocks. This one had been made by piling dirt in a large pile over which a support structure of wooden rods had been bent. Then a layer of clay, followed by stone and then more clay had been added. Followed by lots and lots of wood which had been put on fire.
Once the fires had been burnt out, the clay had dried and the dirt underneath was dug out. Leaving the large domed kiln, with the mouth through which you entered and the eyes, through which you added more fuel to increase the heat inside. Then the tribe had systematically heated it from the inside and cooled it with water, hardening the structure. It allowd the tribe to make many things. Without it neither the granary nor the altar had been made.

Rhasa stepped up to the altar and put the basket down next to it. The small bricked enclosure in the hillside was a short distance form the main camp. He lifted some berries and fruits from the basket and put them in the brazier. Looking over the slightly humanoidish clay figurine behind it, he stepped forward and put his finger in his mouth and then dipped it in the small pile of ash in a bowl in front of it. Then carefully painting the black colour around the figurine's temples and forehead, circling it's "skull".

Stepping back and lighting the brazier, burning the fruit within. The young man prayed the spirit to protect his creation. Prevent it from harm. Asking it to accept his humble sacrefice in payment.

Then lifting the basket the young man returned to camp and went to elder Aghol's fire. There he knelt down in front of the middle-aged man, pressing his forehead to the ground in front of the man until the elder of the two gestured him to sit straight. Around him Aghol's family gathered sitting down and studying what was happening, attracting a few more spectators from the other families who were curious as well.

Rhasa was nervous, but spoke with as firm and confident voice as he could.
"Honoured elder, may the sun, the stars, the river, the smilodon and the Casimir always smile upon you and your family. To grant you a bountiful and prosperous life.

I come bearing gifts for you. Seven pots and seven jars, made from my own hands to be given to you."

He lifted out the fourteen pieces of pottery and one by one handed them over to elder Aghol. Who carefully inspected them. Aghol was a hunter, the most respectful position of the tribe. It was a dangerous and difficult life and granted you much respet and influence in the tribe. Rhasa was a potter, which was far from as influental a position in the tribe. But pottery was very valuable. It took a long time and much labour to make and good pottery was a very prized possession. You could store anything in clay-pots and if you put it in the cool granary it could last weeks.

Aghol put the pieces down next to his wife who too inspected the clayware. While the couple did not allow their faces to show their appriciaton, Rhasa thought he saw marvel in their eyes. He felt his chest swell a bit with the confidence.
The hunter looked over the young man and spoke:
"Such a gift can only warrant a gift in return. Speak and I will grant it"

Rhasa took a deep breath. Okay, here goes.
"Honoured elder. I seek only your permission in return. I will work as hard as you demand and do whatever that is needed. All I ask is for you blessing for wedding your daughter: Tha'".

Silence struck the gathered people, everyone looking at the elder in anticipation. The hunter sat there with a frown and looked the young man up and down... slowly.
Rhasa gulped as the elder looked him over and looked over the clayware again. He glanced to the man's left at Tha' who was smiling at him before he returned his gaze to the large man. The hunter looked up from the pottery again and looked at the young man. Deep inside Rhasa a voice said: you're going to die.

Then the stern and frowned expression of the elder faded and was replaced by a wide smile and around Rhasa the gathered tribe broke out into a cheer.

Action:

Create advancement: Early Casimiric veneration (+1 faith). 4-4= 0 Production
The gift of clayworking taught the Tahlar of the great spirit known as Casimir, who quickly became attributed to be a guardian spirit. A practise of making clay figurines in his imagine set to guard stores or cribs developed. Often small sacrefices placed on a clay bowl in front of the figurine, as a sacrefice for the spirits attention and benevolence).


Bookkeeping
Name: The Tahlar
Population: 2
Between 3 and 6 thousand individuals
Faith: 0 (Animism), 1 (Casimir)
The Tahlar are as a whole animistic, worshipping local spirits that affect their lives such as the river, the pakapong, the smilodon, the sun, the earth and similar. Many tribes have recently begun venerating the protective spirit Casimir, making figurines of him to give sacrefices to and placing it for protection. One of the few spirits shared between the tribes.
Military: 1
The Tahlar have little more than brave young men with stone and bone tools that can be assembled in an emergency. Little more.
Culture: 2
They're a hunter-gatherer society where most of their possession are aimed at the practical, however they do produce art of bone, stone, shell and clay.
Space: 7-4; 6-3
Most of the larger Tahlar camp are located in a wide rivervalley that's slightly sloping downwards, placed on small level areas.

[Sir]

Vesas turned to the newcomer and smiled at the sight of another being of intelligence, and began speaking in a excited tone that was probably a little too fast. "Greetings! I am relieved to know that they are others here, on the world just beginning to sprout life. I wonder, do you know of any others besides yourself? I thought this place had a creator, but apparently these... creatures want me to believe it just came into being on its own. Just look at this, all uniform and perfect, it has to have a mind behind it! I suppose I could claim this land for the cold, if it doesn't have a creator, but somehow that doesn't seem like a good idea. Bah, anyway, what do you call yourself? I think.. Vesas would be suitable label for me, I have had that word in my head since my birth."

She glanced at his new cane, admiring the workmanship for a moment, taking a breath and slowing down her words to a more normal pace. "Very beautiful, I am surprised I had not thought something like that. I doubt I would have the skills to create such a thing though."


Bookeeping:
6+9(three rollovers)-7 (Terraform)=8 AP

[DaBull]

The Cauldron, The Laughing God

The light in the eyes of The Laughing God sparked and then returned to their previous even glow. At the inflections, he simply smiled, but when the voice turned to cruelty, his face for a moment faltered. For a split-second, his face made a dangerous twist toward unrelenting race. His eyes flamed hot enough to bore through the soul of any mortal, reducing their mind to a cinder with its brightness. But this was only for a fraction of a second. The Brother and Sister would only notice it as a twitch before the old man's broad, bemused smile returned.

"Surely not was some hot
Insult of my intent.
And if it will remedy,
Apologies are now to be begot.
It simply seemed,
That you were kept
A bit longer than you'd dreamed,
Owing to the words slipped back and forth
With no reference to mine concerns.
And since it seemed
Your concern was not with me,
But with what you won
Regardless of the specific things intended.
(Be it battle, people, or a corpse.)
I humbly spoke
To say away with me
So you could indulge your mind that's bended
Toward those things which truly occupy your care,
Foregoing the trial of abiding
The simple jibing
Of a god so old as me.

Upon the charges of disruptions,
I apologize as I have before and must.
But I must insist on rights to those remains.
You see
He was a brother to me
More heartfelt than to those who made his end.
Of course the dragons
Who have caused him not to be
Must swiftly and sternly be upended.
He taught me what life was of,
And learned to live
I did
By it
And last, what do the bones
Of evil tyrants
Deserve to rest
Unmolested?
What respect have they earned, to so allow such boon?"

To his own mind, The Laughing God added:
"What have you?"

Those will get what wages their work has won.
And how, I most humbly ask, can you claim my intent?
I intended no mean overtures of war.
From the point of word
On your pointed sword
Nothing but civil words I intended.
Whatever musical overtures,
No matter how beautifully,
Play in your head,
I must sadly say are invented.
And lastly to that I'd say,
In what way would you chance that play?
To war in family's name
You would foolishly wage against it."

To himself, The Laughing God thought:
"I'm going to kill that one before the end. Maybe shoving that pretty sword down her pretty throat would suffice."

[hi-mi-tsu]

Aillyn's patience snaps.

It had been frayed to breaking to begin with, by this strange god and his strange speech; now, hearing the elongated speech that was convoluted and dense and said very little at all, the goddess of War has had enough.

There is no battle cry, no fierce declaration; it is simply a shifting of weight, and suddenly Aillyn is in the Laughing God's face, sword swinging to strike.

(Declaration of Combat against the Laughing God. Free, due to it being the first time.)

[DaBull]

The Cauldron, The Laughing God

The Discordant Plates push outward just slightly and become rigid.

To Aillyn's eyes, the old man ducks, face grinning as it slips past the blade.

To Casimir's, The Laughing God leaps backward.

To anyone's mind no affected by the armor that The Laughing God now wore, they would see that The Laughing God was, in fact, not moving away from the strike at all, but that he had raised his aged hands before him, spread wide from each other and flat. He hunched slightly, leaning over the sword coming in. His legs bent slightly, preparing for movement.

To any, his burning eyes rested only on the shining blade as it moved.

[roll0]

[hi-mi-tsu]

To her eyes, he ducks...so she closes him. She has hundreds of years of experience in combat, does the Goddess of War, and has trained normally and blindfolded, to learn to trust her senses. Her senses tell her that this impudent, reckless threat of a god is standing before her still, and her blade swings true and hard. She does not waver in her strike, and as her blade comes down it almost seems to sing.

[roll0]

[TheDarkDM]

Zeriex cocked his head slightly, somewhat surprised by Vesas' nonchalant attitude towards the murder of hundreds of golems. She would prove quite useful in the days to come.

"As I said, I am known as Zeriex. It is lovely to meet you Vesas."

Before she could stop him, Zeriex had Vesas' hand in his own as he bowed down to kiss it lightly. A tingling sensation went up the goddess' arm, and she would have described it as warmth if not for the fact she found it almost entirely pleasant. Righting himself, Zeriex gestured around to the Foundry.

"Yes, it seems unlikely that this place came into existence without a divine patron. It shall be interesting to see what mind could build -"

Zeriex stopped short, his head whipping around to gaze into a horizon nearly obscured by metal and steam. As Vesas watched, a wicked smile spread across his face as his black eyes seemed to roil like thunderclouds. Turning towards her with that manic grin still on his face, Zeriex grabbed her hand.

"Can you feel that? Violence has broken out amongst the new gods, the first sign of things to come. Come, let us watch - history is being written!"

With a snaking hiss, Vesas and Zeriex disappeared from the Foundry. In the hills overlooking the combat between Aillyn and the Laughing God, the stone began to twist and shift like clay, arching into a fluted opera box of discordant beauty. Within the box, an explosion of black smoke signaled the appearance of Zeriex and Vesas, and as they sat two chairs of black iron and red velvet appeared below them, providing a comfortable seat from which to watch the bloodshed.

"Ah, Aillyn. I knew she would submit to violence before the others. Like the water she rules, she is mercurial, and possesses depths beyond the reach of any light. The other combatant I am unfamiliar with, but they seem to be in a stalemate. How very exciting!"

[Lord_Asmodeus]

The Foundry, Roof of the World

As the gods disappeared into some far off location, the golems watched them leave with their cold, emotionless eyes, and then turned once more to the charred husks of what once. The Golems began to dissipate back into their own tasks, exploring, searching, expanding, analyzing. Those that had been broken were pulled back into the factory, their ice, iron, steel, and stone to be used to make more of their kind... but something else besides.

Soon, as the sliding warehouse doors clattered up and away, new metallic beings marched silently forth from the doors, lines and lines of them. They were no longer so crude in design, having observed and analyzed the deities, these new creations were more complex, more intricate, and far more robust, whirring magical eyes observed the area as they marched in perfect unison, metal jaws that could open impossibly wide and contained sharp bladed metal fangs, thick metal arms that ended in clawed hands or bludgeoning instruments. These new constructs were joined by others, sinuous in their construction, large and powerful, which corded metal like muscles, long powerful metal claws on their hands, sharp metal fangs in their mouths, they stalked forward, their four eyes gliding over the landscape for potential threats. The next time, The Foundry would be prepared to defend itself.

1AP=5AP-3AP Create Mortal Race: Warforged -1AP Create Monster Race: Steel Predators

[DaBull]

The Cauldron, The Laughing God

As the blade swung in, The Laughing God's hands moved inward rapidly, palms flat. At the last second, he breathed in a deep breath, and pushed his chest forward, stepping slightly. To his ears came a sharp but relatively soft click as hands and armored chest contacted with the blade all at once, leaving it motionless, blade held tight in his grip and tip locked into the crease where four armor plates came to a corner. A smile lit up the The Laughing God's face.

To Aillyn's eyes, The Laughing God's wrinkled hand had shot up from below her, halting her wrist.

Casimir's The Laughing God had kicked forward, stopping the very tip of the blade with the toe of his boot.

Zeriex' The Laughing God simply laughed as the blade sunk into his flesh, lodging itself there. Without any movement of the body whatsoever, The Laughing God's head twisted on its neck to face Zeriex, and smiled in greeting, nodding slightly.

Aillyn heard a whispering voice in her ear.
"Hold now,
One of more concern
Puts us under his brow."

Among the Tahlar

In the mind of one of the new born of the world was birthed the seed of something new unto itself.

Out from among his people, he stood alone. Approaching the clay fires, he clothed himself in ashes.

To himself he took a silent way, saying no words save the sounds of song, the lyrics of which none could understand for sure.

The idea was nearly prepared for its birth, nearly ready to be seen. Only a short time remained before it would come to maturity.

0 AP = 5 AP - 5 AP (6 AP (Imbue the Oculon of Secrets) - 1 AP (Laughing Domain Discount))

[Sir]

Vesas feels her chair and almost stands up from shock, but after a moment she rethinks it and gets comfortable, eagerly looking on at the battle.
"Hmm, I haven't met either of these gods, although they both look competent. Should be interesting.." She summons a bright Frost Tree Fruit (Frost Fruit) and bites into it, letting a small amount of super cooled water roll down her lip.

[DaBull]

The Cauldron, The Laughing God

All of The Laughing God's alternate apparitions immediately disappear in a burst of cackling kookaburras.

An instant later, he bursts from the ground beside Vesas. Shaking the dust from his coat, he grins broadly.

"Glad to finally meet,
The one who made a fruit so sweet."