Grimsage Version of a God Game

[Grimsage Matt]

The world has just begun.

Okay, not just right this second, but it does take a few years for the first small gods to form. And form they have. They will inhabit a world that, as gods, they shape in deep and profound ways.

Of course, thats when they're a lot stronger. For now? They're small gods, so they're actions have small impacts. Lets go see what the hell they're up to...

[ArlEammon]

The Eye Of All Magic
Aerinar


It is said the first thoughts of Aerinar were five in one. "Why am I here, where am I, how am I here, what am I, and who am I?"

Aerinar stood below strange emanating lights in the sky. The tentacled eye looked up to the skies and marveled silently. As it writhed in the then darkness of the world, it waited for the others to appear, until it began to grow restless. It may have been mere moments, hours or even days until the other gods would form, but as it was now, The Eye was already aching in it's soul to earn his place as the god of all magical knowledge and power, and thus, he wondered at how he would accomplish this. Still weak from the god-birth, he nonetheless thought it would be time for him to make his mark on the world. In the darkness of the deep, below the surface fo the world, Aerinar closed his eye and burrowed into the earth. It was there that he spread his tendrils of power and enchanted a mysterious place, deep within. Above that sacred place, the land would be enchanted, and whosoever would be born in that place would be born with the gift of sorcery.

[Zaydos]

Artensiel

It had begun, he had begun. Artensiel touched the ground, his four padded feet feeling the living power of the world beneath him. He raised his wolf head up into the sky sniffing the air, and he knew he must begin his task of creating a world of prosperity. First, though, he needed allies and supporters to help him in waxing strong. To gather them he must first find a place to gather them at and heeding his own nature he dove into the depths of the woods, into the darkest heart where forest was thickest. In the densest forest he began to plan and prepare.

[chrisrawr]

Water.

The universal substrate. The catalyst of life. Home... For now.

As the waves lap against shore, tidepools form - the first altars to change, where the clash of fates forces those who survive the rigours of isolation back into the depths of creation again and again - where predators either adapt, or starve. Where the only traits that matter are those of brief survival.

As each lapping wave mixes essence of origin and journey, the congregation begins its silent mass. A grain of sand, an organic molecule, the small bent and wheft of a shaft of light - the pools moved further and further from the oceans, and their shifting guests slowly died out, but for a few.

This is the process of aeons, a thought unbidden approaches, under unwavering guidance from a hand much more unsure of itself than its actions.

[Erik Vale]

Morgath
Morgath was.
The world formed.
Morgath was, and was more.
A elemental that was once powerful and background noise gained accession.
Godhood was upon the most primitive of elementals.
It felt the world expand around and within it.
By no means was it THE power, of even that planted. But it was the power of that little space.
A paradox, but only due to linguistic boundaries.
Already, ideas formed in its mind, that was at once a subatomic speck, and the size of the planet that is existed because of.
It was time to begin.

[HerbieRAI]

Cydon

This had been his last bastion of sanity. In the shadow of the last great volcanoes that created fields of lava and spewed enough sulfur to turn the sky a blood red. The heat had dissipated and now all that was left were fields and mountains of rock.

This place became serene and tranquil like the rest of the planet. He could hear every movement for miles apon miles, and it drove him crazy. This wasn't how things were at the begining. The begining was loud and chaotic, with energy arching through the heavens and massive explosions as large masses collided. There was always something going on, something to do, something to run from, something to destroy.

One day he would bring back the chaos of those early years, but for now he lacked the power. For now, there was only silence and unending boredom.

[ShadowySilence]

Morgus' red eyes opened for the first time as the dust and shadows that consituted its form congealed into a writhing mass. It forms the shape of a humanoid, gaunt, and horrible to look upon if anyone but the fledgeling gods could have seen.

Morgus eyes the world with pure hatred, something about the way it was so alive even when it was merely dirt made it sick. "All shall be tainted, all shall be corrupted, all shall lie in ruin..."

It whispers this phrase over and over again, and it will continue to be whispered as long as the promise remains incomplete. The promise shall be ever heard, and it will send shivers down the spines of all who hear it on when it is most audible, on the darkest of nights when the moon is full and the wind whistles and howls in dark agony.

[Grimsage Matt]

A Jazz band sounds, a blues song echos across the world. A becon is set before all the gods, calling them, asking them to come. A stiring in their cores, a shifing in their thoughts, this is not a inviation. It is a summons. A summons far to powerful to ignore. The Gods have been called, but will they awnser of their own will?

[Zaydos]

Artensiel

Music sounds across the world and the beast-god's head rises, his ears flicked back. He twists his spine orienting his entire body to better hear the song and pinpoint its location. With a might spring he sets forth from the forest depths towards the source of the music and the summons which come along with it.

[ArlEammon]

The Eye
Hoping for a foundation of meaning, Aerinar thought answering the call may have revealed the identity of his Maker. The Eye of the Universe searched for the call, the calling which called all the gods in a great summoning. Aerinar obeyed, hoping beyond hope that he would meet the Maker, and that his purpose may be revealed.

[Erik Vale]

Morgath

It was an understatement to say that Morgath was already at the call when it sounded. He still hadn't fully extracted himself from the land enough to fully form his own thoughts.
And there, a call filled his mind, and so what essence was free left to it, with a trailing yet invisible line towards the call left route for his essence, leaving the world, loosing in part power, but gaining in part self.

[chrisrawr]

Along the tidepools of the infinite coast, the First Call is heard. A single shimmering
- smaller than time, but as great a manifestation as can, must, be mustered -
rises from each fetid crater to race in answer. To do otherwise beckoned the call of oblivion;
an infinity of futures screaming pain, anguish, and extinction.

[Grimsage Matt]

As the Gods follow the beacon, the siren song, they come to a building on a hill top. It was here for year just a few seconds ago.

A lonely looking sign tells you the name of this place. "The Pub"

The music swells, inviting you all in.

[ShadowySilence]

Morgus unable to resist the urge finds itself loping towards the tavern upon its shadow legs, the music bothers it so...

Wanting to understand what force dare put itself above the likes of Morgus, Morgus slips under the door twisting its shadow body to be thin enough to fit.

[Grimsage Matt]

As each of you enters, for a reif second, you percive it according to your natures.

Aerinar briefly comprends it as the gathering place of all potions, where scrolls are traded and lore collected.

Artensiel see's it as a great glade, full of food and drink.

Morgath see's it as the colliding of entire worlds and places.

Morgus sees it as a great vult, with only a few dry bottoles of hooch.

The time one see's it as everytime and every place, simlantiously and existing in the past and future.

Cydon's vision however, stays. He see's it as a great building, filled with strange creatures, lesser then you, but also... more in some strange way. Fighting, drinking feasting and beating the tar out of each other, blades and fists as common as world shattering spells.

"Hey, you bunch. Bout time you formed."

Looking down, you see a strange little creature. A larviate with a old fashioned gangster hat and a cigar.

"Well, the overjerks at centeral siad I was supposed to show ya the ropes, so what ya want to know?"

This little thing gives off a arua, not of choas, not of power, but of pure undiulited freedom.

[ShadowySilence]

If Morgus had a nose it would have wrinkled it at what it believed it saw. And who was this larviate sitting in front of them, and why did he seem more powerful? Since he did ask them to ask, Morgus does so in its dark voice that sounds like the whislting wind.

"I do have questions," it shifts its form into that of a humanoid with long teeth dripping shadows as if they were blood, its red eyes thrumming within the construct "what is this place, who are you, why do you feel stronger than myself, and when can I make good on my promise of corruption and destruction?" Morgus was not one for long words, it wanted answers.

[Zaydos]

As do I Artensiel says in a voice sharp and clear like a bird's song, Who are these overjerks, what ropes are you meant to show us, and how do you create.

[chrisrawr]

As the coils of time seek to lay claim on these figures, they shatter - for the brief moment, Perduras is more, as shattered infinities whirl around the speakers in an enveloping blizzard. Perduras senses no slopes here - no grinding of time to pull the lines toward some destination. It would be impossible to gather them as such, without an enormous exertion of temporal-lateral energy, but even those relative few which trickled to it were as to make its entire existence before now seem tiny.

Perduras swelled. The few motes for which it had sacrificed so much to form had been doubled, and redoubled, energy to form and use as it pleased. In this not-place, it took form of a hazy gas. Surely as Perduras slid from here back toward the slopes and curves of reality, its form would gravitate towards excellence - ultimate efficiency and flawless perfection were required to stave off even the tiniest of deaths.

"We we would taste of the careless bounties of your existences," its words slithered, sending small crimson electrical crackles through itself, as though a plasma lamp and a fog machine had been carelessly left by a love potion overnight. "Of the realities you carelessly shatter, without wheft or redress," the fog coalesces, the electricity inside condenses into a small red point, the size of a tennis ball, while the outer surface becomes opaque. You see small things - shapes with flagella or small fins - begin to move inside, shrouded. "We I would taste of these 'ropes', and of these ones above," and, it thought, it would taste of this place, and remember - in the distance, already, it could feel the grinding. This place was above and around the flows, but their own paths would re-intersect with fate once more, soon. It would be diminished then, though its formings had already far surpassed those tiny irrelevant pools that had sheltered it. But diminished, it would remember the taste of this place away from pain - "I I would taste of refuge." it finishes. No visible changes happen for a small time then - you sense it's surprised.

[HerbieRAI]

Cydon was mesmorized by what was unfolding in front of him. He had never seen another being, and the energy in this place was almost to much to handle. He waded through the crowed and watched fight after fight. He watched limbs breaking, backstabbing, and even a few beheadings. This place was a paradise.

After a few rounds through the Pub, Cydon made his way back to the short man. How do I create more of this

[ArlEammon]

Aerinar's head swam with questions.
"Show me the ropes? What would these ropes be used for? What are Jerks? What is Central, and what is so central about it?"

The Eye wondered as if the universe was playing some obscene joke on the gods for some reason.

[Grimsage Matt]

The Larvitar chuckles. And glances at Morgus for a spilt second. In that second, Morgus has the sudden thought. His corrupting touch, would lead to ever greater bounty for life. The small one smirks, and the thoughts fade after he looks away.

"Starting with who I am, Names Capone. Now, I'm not from around here. Heck, this is a young world, nothing like me could have grown here yet. As for where this is.... It's me pub. Since I'ma god, it's also all space, and no time, or rather, time is nonactive while still passing. Now, should have phrased it a bit diffrently then just calling it the ropes. The overdietys, which I call the overjerks, told me to teach you the basics of your divine powers and all that. As for central, it's the begining, the ending and the renewing. It is time and space compressing into one dimension and expanded to a billion. For something like that. Personaly, I think they just call it central to make themselves sound even more important. And as for creation, can't run before you crawl. Also called, the first lesson is in altering your own nature to a degree. And don't worry about the power for this. I'll lend ya some."

Capone snaps his fingers, and a tray appears infront of each of you. On each try is a glass, containing a liquid that seems to resonate with you.

"Drink up, and tell me how it tastes."

[Erik Vale]

The area that is Morgath never formed a body, so it couldn't really drink, but the moment it's energy surrounded the liquid, it was gone, cup and tray as well.

"Places. Times. Life. Life cycling unending.... I see eternity, and within it, life."

It's kinda hard for a bodyless being to shake it's head, but the emotions are there.
"What makes you think I need your teachings. What allows you to call me from my wakening here?"

[Grimsage Matt]

Capone grins. And all off a sudden, Morgath is forced into a physical form.

"One buddy, cuse while you might have been a decent Genus Loci, you all know squat about how you even work. And as for my right....."

All of a sudden, you all the get the feeling that SOMETHING huge is looking at you. Not physical, but metaphysical. Something to which entire worlds as as subatomtic particles, entenities mere nanoseconds.

And with a voice like a thousand big bangs, a voice thunders.

"BECAUSE I HAVE ENOUGH RAW POWER TO CREATE AND END ALL THINGS, AND RESTRAINT AND KNOWLEDGE ENOUGH TO NOT DO SO BY MISTAKE."

And then it fades back to the comfortable hum.

"Now, you want your first lesson?"

Note, Capone is strong. But other then as a mentor, he won't affect the world. Also, you have a bonus 10 Divine power from the drinks. Don't worry, you'll be spending it:smallamused:

[Zaydos]

Artensiel places his mouth into the drink and sucks it down. I can speak only for myself, but of course I would be pleased to have some instruction.

[chrisrawr]

The cup and drink are accepted through the membrane, which then begins to form hair-like tendrils and cilia. Clarity springs forth. The wheft and web of temperance and condition unforms and genial locality becomes a statistical insignificance; For the moment, Perduras sees that occupying merely one timeline will not fit the consumption his continued existence requires.

Through the smoky haze, the fitful orb of fidgeting red lightning balloons, elongates, thins in the center... and becomes two. Slowly, the membrane surrounding it performs a similar feat, and the two floating sacs cleave together where they touch. Two voices, harmonious but disconnected, ring out. "We we are awaiting."

[ArlEammon]

Aerinar

"Morgath, we are but newborn babes compared to this. . . man." Aerinar spoke soberly. "It would not be wise to provoke him. . . or to turn away his mentorship."

Aerinar spoke just as seriously towards Capone. "I can sense this form of yours is not. . . genuine. Could you, perhaps, inform us how we could take such a form as yours. My mind is swimming with questions and emotions from the time of my birth. Do you know what I am? How I came to be? Who is our Maker? If you have spoken the answers to these, I did not comprehend. Perhaps our Maker is one of these, "Overdeities".

[Grimsage Matt]

"Sorry, but this is my natural form. Or at least as close to a Natural form as realiity is willing to accept. As for who made ya, No idea there. Course, I might know, but there is a clause in the matrix of understanding that you have to figure out that one on your own. And as for your first lesson, well, we need to shore up your natural powers a bit. But each of you might have diffrent ideas for what you want to do with that power. Let me ask each of ye this. Of the following, what is the most important to ya?"

Toughness; The abillity to last, to endure damage and the assult of other supernatural beings.

Might; Your phsyical strength. The abillity to rip things apart or use physical power.

Aloofness; Your abillity to ignore harmful reality. This can block both physical and mystical assults.

Cunning; Theres honor, then theres being a stealty guy who they won't see. Ever.

Brains; How smart are ya? Remember, if your smart, you can sometimes think of ways to make things easier.

Arcane; Yours gods right? You have natural magical abillities to a extent. However, do you develop them, or rely on other means of shaping the world?

You have 10 bonus DP to spend on the stats. Remeber the costs from the Recruitment thread.

Basicly, Capone is teaching you the barebones basics.

[ArlEammon]

Aerinar Stats

Toughness: 10
Might: 0
Aloofness: 0
Cunning: 0
Brains: 0
Arcane: 3

[Zaydos]

Artensiel

The great beast closes his eyes, his nose drawing in all the scents of the pub. He feels his form become less substantial, but at the same time more real. Further from reality but more capable of working his will on it. His mind sharpened, not the learned knowledge of a sage but the predator's cunning and the wariness of the prey. He also felt it growing his own power with magic and the underlying principles of the world.

[chrisrawr]

Perduras form ripples as it multiplies, and each change refines and improves upon the last. Some objects in the swirling mists within are lost entirely, others expand comically until they project against the membrane in places. The protruding flagella split and reform, coil and braid, disappear, reappear, hang, flop, and every other which formation. There was no subtlety to it; the entire process was being mimicked in a thousand altars along the infinite coast in any case. The tide was coming; Perduras would be ready.

Already fracturing, a throng of voices whisper, "I I thank this boon of insight. The We is bolstered."

The floating blob maneuvers itself with its protrusions, testing each formation as it continues splitting. Finally, it pauses, and then returns to a simple pair of bulbous foggy orbs.

Perduras had never come so close to destruction in its short existence; it seemed that if too many selves surrounded itself, it could not breathe efficiently.

Immediately, patterns sprang to mind, impossible to even dream of without the power granted by Capone. But there were very few appealing roads open now that did not involve listening further to the figure.

[ArlEammon]

Aerinar
Aerinar's magical power grew from the gift of Capone."Interesting. Thank you for this, Capone. I can feel the power surging through me like a storm." Aerinar looked upward with his great Eye, and then back to Capone. "Whatever questions are you willing to answer? If you are this world's Overdeity, I wonder if you would be interested in perhaps teaching us more, if that is your prerogative. I hope you would not mind in doing so. Also, your name, your mannerisms, they both seem so. . . oddly familiar. As if there is some kind of secretive joke being played. Oh well, nevermind that. I'm just curious if you would be interested in more of this rope showing, although I still haven't seen any ropes yet."

[Grimsage Matt]

"You'd be suprised at how often I get that. Well, each of you may have already noticed something. As gods your both real and unreal at the same time. However, have you considered that the same applies on a posibillity axis? It's easier to show ya then to explain it. Also, the possibillty thing, it's also called becoming a part of a larger, but more focused, part of the whole."

You each gain a domain. Pick em, I'll stat em in the morning.

[HerbieRAI]

Cydon takes the drink and his form begins to shrink in on itself. His physical body forms small and red, with a small set of wings. His thoughts became slightly more coherent. Instead of just watching the mayhem, he now wanted to create it. Different ways of starting fights started flooding his brain. It was almost too much to handle, but he loved every second of it.

As the effect was starting to wear off, and like a drug, Cydon wanted more.

Stats:
(used 12/15 DP)
Toughness: 10
Might: 0
Aloofness:2
Cunning:3
Brain:0
Arcane:0

[ArlEammon]

Domain: The Voice
The Voice works as the ability of the innate words spoken through the Voice as being magical. In other words, saying "Fire", "Thunder", "Ice" etcetera, in the language of "The Voice" would give the speaker the power to manifest Fire, Thunder and Ice against his or enemies. The Voice is an inherently magical language.

[Erik Vale]

Morgath
Morgath was a cunning creature, and, as to be expected by an normally incorporeal elemental, a being that is hard to grapple.
2 Aloofness, 2 Cunning
And, of all, he was a planer ellemental, a being of raw creation, there other powers grew far and wide, but this was the basic essence of all their power, even if they did not create the world in the beginning.
Domain: Creation

[chrisrawr]

"We we would know what now to do - would this... place be prudent to exit?"

[Grimsage Matt]

"Ya, I'm done for now. Besides, have to let you buggers figure out some things on yer lonesome. The Exit's behind you."

Behind you, a larga door was always there. It has the words "You still here?" on it in some glowing paint.

[Zaydos]

Artensiel

The beast-god's head turned, filled with new ideas, towards the exit. He leapt out making for a secluded region, as forested as he could find to begin his creations. Reaching the heart of the area he closed his eyes and raised a single paw. He called together the air, water, brimstone, plants' vital food from the soil, calcium and salt and let these vital components mix and blend. He reached out with his paw pressing the form into shape and his claws cutting away excess. Finishing one, Artensiel began another, and another. After uncounted time had passed, Artensiel was pleased with their shapes, and he breathed his green fires into the forms granting them life and a measure of his cunning. They would not be the strongest of his creations, but their cunning would serve them well. They were also not quite like the cats of this world, having three tails each of which capable of twisting and grasping objects for manipulation.

(Creation: Followers)

[chrisrawr]

The morphling's attention turned to the sign, and then it popped, and dissolved.

The tide was coming in; the strong will survive.

[HerbieRAI]

Cydon spends a bit longer in the Pub, taking in the chaos that is continually unfolding. When he finally steps out, he looks over the barren landscape determined to re-create the chaos. He would need to create life.

Knowing his power was weak, he would start with an easy creature. He traveled to the edge of the badlands, where the oceans struck the shore. It was here he found clay, seaweed, and rock. The rocks were used to create the structure of a small creature, about 3 feet tall. He then put seaweed around the stone, to turn into veins and a nervous system. Next he used the clay and molded it over the rock and weed to change into the flesh and muscle. All that was left was the energy. He went back into the badlands, and gathered up some magma that had yet to cool. This would give the creatures the burning drive to stay alive and fight all in there way. It would also give them more of a drive to reproduce, making up for their lack of strength and loyalty. He one by one pushed some molten rock into the chest of each beast and infused it with life.

As Cydon used his power to bring life to unlife, the form started changing. First, the fire began pulsing, filling the seaweed, which was turning into veins. The stone slowly smoothed into bone, while the clay hardened slightly into skin and muscle. The skin slowly turned a shade of brown- green as the seaweeds color mixed with that of the mud.

After completing his creation, he looked back and examined what he had done. They were small and weak creatures, but that would serve them well in the harsh badlands, since food would be scarce. He continued to watch as they gathered around and began deciding which way to go. He could have given them some guidance, but this is what Cydon wanted to see. What would the new creatures do. Two of the large ones started to argue, one wanting to head along the coast, the other inland. They began to fight, just like he had seen in the tavern, only less brutal. One was finally knocked down, and the other yelled in victory. As he turned to face the others, the prone creature grabbed a rock, jumped up and struck the boasting creature in the head. The blow knocked it to the ground, where it got hit again and again in the head, killing it. The whole tribe jumped up and down joyfully, and followed the winner inland. Hopefully they would reproduce fast to make up for the infighting that was bound to occur.

OOC:

Sorry bout the wait, I was on vacation for a week. I'm going to use my last 3 DP to create followers described above. I haven't been part of one of these games before, so if I'm doing something wrong give me a shout or yell at Cydon.

[Grimsage Matt]

Please name your creations. Easier book keeping for me

"The Felines"
30 of them were created.

"Civlzation stats"
PoP; 30
Growth Rate; 1/2
Loyalty; 5/10
Might; 5/10
Lore; 2/10
Cunning; 5/10
Peity; 3/10

"The Greenskins" (Orc/Goblin refrence)
30 created
PoP; 30
Growth Rate; 4/2
Loyalty; 2/10
Might; 3/10
Lore; 1/10
Cunning; 5/10
Peity; 3/10


more as more is created. Turn 2 tomorrow?

[Erik Vale]

Creation

The Elemental being ***** its head somewhere, once he is gone from the pub, listening to the eternal voices of space, which he left to matter.

"You are right.... Servants would be good... To guide this creation, my plan... They shall be the wisps...."

And from himself, he detached parts, each insignificant and growing into a semi-coporeal fog, filled with power and mind, They weren't particularly smart, but they where part of Morgath, they were potent. They would be his angels, they would be the second elemental of the world, it would be they who would guide the world as Morgath commanded.He would teach them latter and make them grow, but for now, they where just power, loyal and pious, his hand upon the world.

The Wisps ((OOC))

The Wisps are ghost like beings, with a innate connection to Morgath, who himself . They are physically incompetent, but magically potent. To the world, they appear as ghosts, cloud like orbs that can take form. They can also take other shapes....

Slow growing and not very bright (albeit a little cunning), but powerful, Loyal and Pious (having a direct connection, albeit minor, does that to the majority). If I can't improve them latter, then make thier growth as low as possible, and add to their cunning/lore.


((I'm fine for a turn tommorow))

[Grimsage Matt]

Whisps
PoP; 30
Growth Rate; 1/10
Loyalty; 5/10
Might; 1/10
Lore; 2/10
Cunning; 6/10
Peity; 6/10

[chrisrawr]

At first, only small aquatic creatures dwelled within the water; zooplankton and phytoplankton, perhaps the fish-cults and deep beings, or other gods or deities.

And these beings were set, and it was good. Their roles played out as part of the oiled machine of life - absorbing energy from the world's warm core, or from the sun's light, and granting it to the greater beings in homage and sacrifice. A grand cycle, the bodies of the dead would ripen and burst and feed nutrients to the swarming, teeming masses of invisible, mindless beings.

In the tidepools, this cycle holds no law. Those who would feed on the sun-takers must prove their worth, fending off multitude of other denizens - each more deadly than the last. To survive, one had to either be deadly while being unassailable; a mountain fortress with a bow the size of a gaint's spine, or one had to be nimble as lightning and unstoppable as an avalanche. To be less was to invite those who had become strong to feast upon your body, your resources sacrificed for the betterment of the pools.

And each tide, these sickening grotesques would be washed away by the tide, leaving only the plankton and the small gods making their way toward land; the endless experiments of evolution lost to an unforgiving mistress.

As Pedras leaves the room, and the world fades away to black, its last conscious experience is of rocks, tumbling toward the ocean. A tunnel started at the dawn of time and fueled by the sacrifice of a million plans had broken through the surface. Along the infinite coast, a dozen tidepools collapse inward, toward land, and a barrier of rubble separates them from the ocean's grasp.

It was time, now, for the insights granted Pedras by the timeless one to act; darkness claimed its sight and muddied its mind - a great sacrifice of self had bought a future, but now is the time for rest.

((OOC))
Preferred worshipers name: Bane
Appearance: Varies depending on niche. From great claws to piercing talons, beaks, maws, mandibles, chitin, exoskeletons, anything can exist in the underpools. Unguided for now, they wander and multiply and fight and carve their home, a growing cavern away from light or fresh air. Some phages glow, using the light to attract predators - which in turn harbour its young as they feast upon its flesh. Some feed upon the fetid pools, mutations growing and bursting and mutilating their bodies as they search for a form less vulnerable. In the center of it all, Pedras' sleeping form lies; a small black rock, warm to the touch. Shot through with veins of deep red, it pulses, and all those in its realm stop and pay tribute - those nearest each other, even if not openly hostile, fight to the death - the winner of each small sprawl retreating to feast upon the remains of its brief foes. In this way do even the forms suited for peaceful talents grow poisoned spines, and chitinous shells.

If I'm required to break it down to something fairly basic, the most basic of forms is similar to a small, black, ant-sized head-crab (from halflife), covered in spines and sensory hairs. Its jaw is more akin to a soldier ant's, while often a claw or even a tail contains a stinger loaded with powerful enzymes. They moult as they grow, almost to the size of a pea; as they begin to reach this size, their bodies grow extra limbs, and eventually a moult is shed and dozens of new bane are formed.

The Phages are more like small caterpillars, covered in a fungus which aids in their digestion of the mire in the water, and of the rock and soil they eat. Their young grow as spores within the fungus, stealing nutrients from the parent until it dies. As the parent dies, the fungus begins glowing - attracting anything around. The young are eaten along with the nutritious fungus, and gestate in the better-defended host body until they mature, at which point their collective pressure or hunger bursts through the shell. These younglings are often devoured on the spot by those nearby, but the few which manage to get away begin the cycle anew.

Finally, there are the Chitterlings; where the Phages rely on death and parasitism, Chitterlings promote symbiosis. Like a miniature mosquito without a body, they plunge their stilleto-tip into their host, extracting nutrients with a barbed razor-tongue, while at the same time injecting their system with stimulants... and eggs. As the empowered bane overcomes in hours what would take it days without the Chitterling's potent upper, its souped-up metabolism deposits Chitterling eggs with each dropping. As many denizens of the underpools devour droppings, not all of these eggs reach fruition - but again, the few which manage to get away are enough to ensure their survival.

Sightings of mix-breeds or mutants for the moment are assumed to be inferior designs; these variants dominate the food chain currently.

[ArlEammon]

Aerinar
The Eraius
These appear to be Illithids from other settings, but they aren't. The Eraius suck out the nutrients from plant life and meats, rather than chewing. These beings are potentiall very powerful mages, and they live above the caverns of magical energy Aerinar enchanted in the Beginning. They don't reproduce very quickly. However, they are somewhat cunning and instinctually street-wise and very intelligent, able to learn magic easier than other races. They are somewhat strong for someone with their body-build, which is to say not very strong at all. They are pale skinned. Also, they tend to not be very religous. However they are respectful of knowledge, wisdom, and power, which deities tend to have alot of in all areas. On the other hand, they are very loyal to those whom they deem worthy, so despite the lack of a truely faithful culture, exceptional individuals in their society may be exceedingly stead-fast.

[chrisrawr]

[Turn 2; 6 Points gained, 3 points leftover, 1 point into Followers, 1 point into Intelligence, 0 Points remaining.]

[Grimsage Matt]

Turn 2

As your confidence grows, your Divine power replenishes itself (5 DP)

Each of your creations seems to be doing well.

"The Felines"
PoP; 75
Growth Rate; 1/2
Loyalty; 5/10
Might; 7/10
Lore; 2/10
Cunning; 6/10
Peity; 3/10

The Goblins
PoP; 60
Growth Rate; 4/2
Loyalty; 2/10
Might; 3/10
Lore; 1/10
Cunning; 8/10
Peity; 3/10

Whisps
PoP; 33
Growth Rate; 1/10
Loyalty; 5/10
Might; 3/10
Lore; 4/10
Cunning; 6/10
Peity; 6/10

The Bane
Population: 80
Growth Rate: 12 are created for every 1 each turn.
Experience
Loyalty: 1/10; Level 0
Might: 1/10; Level 0
Lore: 5/10; Level 0
Cunning: 3/10; Level 0
Peity: 1/10; Level 0

The Eraius
Population: 45
Growth Rate: 2/2
Loyalty: 5/10; Level 0
Might: 4/10; Level 0
Lore: 7/10; Level 0
Cunning: 6/10; Level 0
Peity: 4/10; Level 0

The Felines managed to find good sources of food and water, and have grown stronger, and more cunning.

The Goblins multiply like sewer rats, and have been inventing ever more... intresting and subtle ways to try and off one another.

The Whisps Knowledge and Might, slow at first to manifest, is growing.

The Bane..... they're cunning vastly increases! But most of them are eaten by a fish.

The Eraius are getting smarter, and some of them want brain food....(Joking)


EVENT; A Stone slab appears, with letters of burnished gold.

"Seek in the Deep places, Find the awnsers in the High. Accept my riddle, and quest young godling." Do you take up the challange?

[Erik Vale]

5 points remaining from grant, using none so far.

The essence that is Morgath decided to use the task granted as a way to teach it followers, to let them establish themselves, searching places both litterally low, and low in the eyes of mortals. He knows that the only way to truely make them useful is to guide them in the ways of their power.


Morgath will preserve the little bit of power he has, and spend the turn training mortals. I will undertake the event. (Personally bad at riddles, but then my character would be to.)

[Zaydos]

Artensiel

Seeing the slab, the beast-god reads it. His fires murmur as he contemplates what the task means and the difficulty of leaving his worshipers to do so. He shakes his head, walks amidst his feline creations and begins to show them the arts of the hunt and of evasion of their own predators. He shows them to walk without sound, to move like shadows, and perhaps most importantly the concept of tools, aiding them in crafting their first tools. He does not provide them with houses, only show them by example how to build a home, he does not give them food but leads them into the hunt. Seeing his creations, the beast-god feels pride and sending forth his green flame he creates a second generation of the cat-beings, forged like their brethren and gives them into the care of their precursors.

Spending the 5 DP to create more followers of the same kind.

[HerbieRAI]

Cydon

Cydon reads the tablet, then looks around, half expecting something to happen. When nothing does he quickly loses interest and moves on to other things. Watching the Goblins plot and scheme is fun, but it ends to abruptly. Fights are usually one goblin cracking open the skull of another while their back is turned. It was fun, but nothing near the fun of the tavern. He would have to make another creation.

He left the goblins and traveled to the other end of the badlands. Here, he began creation of another creature. These were much bigger and stronger, but were going to be a bit dumber then their smaller cousins.


I'm a bit busy this week, so I'll pass on the riddle. Cydon will spend his 5 DP creating Urks, which will have more might and Piety but less cunning and reproductivness of their goblin cousins.

[/spoiler]

[Grimsage Matt]

Those that accepted the "Riddle", are swollowed up by the ground, and end up in a cavern of pale rock. Above, you can see a thousand stars burning. And Then a voice intones.

"The silver path is followed by few, and spans the ageless way. Withen the equal of three, he sleeps."

Will add clues in a bit.