(LOC): We Will Be Titans (WWBT) IC

[mystic1110]

It began as such things were oft to do, no idiosyncratic attempts at originality here, with a flash of infinity to light the silent darkness. Lights flickered across the canvas devoid of color, pinpricks of light building intricate chains of icy white points at the edge of what was known. More gathered near to the flash, catching the light it brought and channelling it away – but not too far away. The flash of the pulse was the foundation of a world, but a world needed to have more than simply being. More energy followed the channelled light, spinning it into an orb of radiant energy that would shine upon the world to come and with it came the first matter. Light was light no longer, it became else that was real. It became the Sun, in a world wear darkness now existed.

The universe twisted at the point of the flash as a great orb of matter began to break through the walls between that which was real and unreal, sending cracks and fissures rippling across the untarnished surface of reality as it tore a gaping rift into that impossible fabric. Metal, rock and molten stone melded with air and water, a world entire born of all things material, a home and rebirth for those to come. Traceless fire trailed its passing into being, echoes of a void beyond the realms of space and far outside of the track of time from which the world had been called, as were all things new. Twisting patterns of energy that had wrapped it in timeless safety began to fall away as it entered a place where they were not required, diving towards the world that they had protected to release their sacred gift and burden. A wave of rainbow multicolour washed out from their points of impact, and then the rainbow became water, which rippled with waves created from it's own birth. And there it was – the earth and the endless ocean.

And then the light of creation simply vanished.

Yet some things remained. The light was snuffed out but for the sun, and yet still reality was full of nascent and unrealized power. A presence made of many things, gloriously unbound from the ties that had constrained it before, and full of more power than anything not such could contain. Potential with no form, it yearned to find one. And so it would.

It was a little thing really, much of power perhaps, but little of the flash that created the universe. Yet what mattered was that it happened, that the potential of power was released, and that many were handed – without seeming price – a hand fully strong enough to tear free one strand of infinity. Limitless potential with boundless power, could any truly be surprised by what was born of that union? What else could have, but gods.

Small gods. Fractions of infinity. But gods.

And so this story begins.

Credit to Snowfire - I re-purposed the excellent intro he wrote for one of my other games for this one - so if you are reading this Snowfire, Thanks!!

[mystic1110]

The orb of water rotated around the sun. There was nothing else after all. There was no one else to see it, but if one was looking at the scene one would have thought they saw two suns. The light of the sun caressed the water of the earth and danced in its waves and then looked back onto itself. It was like the earth was a mirror and the sun was a preening vainglorious fellow whom was captivated by his own visage.

The entire affair was entirely bemusing. Beneath the sun's reflection (or perhaps, the reflection itself - certainty not beneath the waves) a sort of laughter could be heard. Well . . . not heard exactly. But felt.

The water rippled slightly - the reflection wavered. One might have though the reflected sun grinned. Or perhaps it didn't.

There was no one else around to laugh at the joke.

[Toxic Mind]

From Darkness came Life. It was the natural order of things, that when darkness and light became one, something neither wholly one or the other would be born. The heat of life, the true warmth of blood pumping and flesh and motion, the cold ice of darkness and of death, of hunting and night and a merciless countance.

Yet the world was not yet ready, and so Yara dreams. Her body, warm and alive, encased in a massive prison of ice, both womb and tomb for the goddess, who fears nothing. Her awareness extends beyond her icy home, but senses nothing of worth, no reason to awaken. So Yara slumbers, and in her dreams hunts the trackless void.

[Razade]

With a flash of light, it found itself hurtling down into a deep blue wet thing. It also found itself a thing, where once the expanseless darkness merely was. It cast about, looking to return yet as it broached the placid surface only to come into the shining sun. It recoiled, racing to the edge of the light, seeking refuge of the First Night and took shape. The Being that was Yen'Hi looked over the featureless and dim water beneath it, calling forth from it's depths an island of rock to rest. Wreathed forever in clouds and rain, Yen'Hi moved deep into large cave to keep away from even the dim light of morning. Yet more questions remained, and it was small and weak from it's birth and from the darkness it created small shards in it's own image, fluttering scrolls of bright colors and heavy woods, to travel the world and return with what they found.


3 AP to Start

(Alter Land: The Midnight Isle -1)
(Create Life: The Messengers [Mythical Creatures]-1 ).

3 AP -2 AP= 1 AP

[Toxic Mind]

The dreams of gods have power, power that mortals do not possess. When the island rose, the waters rippled for the first time, and the glacier rocked, an oh so small movement. Yet the creature within stirs for the first time, for something has disturbed its rest. Yara shifts, and in her dreams hunts a vast land, half in shadow and half in light.

The Northern end is a frozen wasteland, ice and snow and mountains, howling blizzards and freezing temperatures. Perpetually in night, the tundra in the dark is deadly beyond compare. The middle is verdant forests, the frosts leading naturally into massive trees that shade the ground from the sun and grow tall and wide. Rivers run through, pure water nurturing this hunting ground, and the trees are hearty and good for building. The forest is the opposite of the tundra. Everything grows large here, from trees to creatures. It is half in light and half in dark, yet the trees grow all the same. The southern end is baked in heat and sunlight, vast trackless sands. Dotting this landscape are many oasises, and they mean life in the desert, but also great danger, for all things need them, and they are prime areas for traps.

And in the middle, in the heart of the forest on the boarder between day and night, a massive glacier, and inside it, a nascent goddess, slumbering as the island around her grows. No longer cradled by ocean, she sleeps on as the glacier slowly melts, divine waters nurturing the forest.

With a sound like a gunshot, were anything around to be startled, the first crack appears. Yara stirs.


2 - Create Land: The Hunting Fields - Yara's continent, roughly the side of Russia. Lying on the boarder between sunlight and darkness, the northern tundra is ever night, the forest is split and the south is sunlike desert. In the center of the forest Yara's glacier lies, slowly melting.

I will be expanding on fauna in the next few posts.

[Croverus]

It seemingly appears from nothing, pulling itself from the shadows of a tree and trying to take form. It comes upon the a small creature, a rodent, one of the first of its kind. The shadows leap and envelop the rodent and sink into it's body. It rears up on its hind legs, quills begin sprouting from its shoulders and back, front paws twisting in shape and growing large claws, tail becoming barbed. It's beady red eyes finally open,a glint of the divine spark glows in them as the tiny godling looks about, scurrying back under the shadow and examining itself. This was Mandig, giver of claws and quills. He knew what he must do, but loathed the thought of having to do so. But if he was lucky, the other gods would make his work easy for him? ... Not likely.

But first thing was first; Mandig sought out more of the rodents he'd come across and one by one he gifted them with claws and quills like his own, greater size and stubborn determination. They fed mostly on plants for now, and on their dead, but there were no other creatures for them to kill or be killed by, and so that was all that seemed needed. Mandig was pleased, calling them Rodents of Unusual Size. And not too soon after making them, Mandig forgot about them completely, and convinced himself there's no such thing. He also fails to notice the lesser forms of them proliferating across the Hunting Lands, for there was nothing to keep their numbers in check.


Create Life -1 AP: Rodents of Unusual Size and lesser rodents

[Robert Blackletter]

The presence study the world, moving from experience to experience. Some creatures sensed something was watching, but none stopped in their business. The presence saw many things in his travels, a great cat trapped in ice, a giant rodent which hid its hoard beneath a tree, a feline hides its kill high in the tree top, a wolf alpha hide it weak leg from it pack, a isle forever trapped in mist and a hundred more little secrets were discovered in it first explorations.

Colledig slowly became aware of his self in his travelled, and marvelled at the wonder and beauty of this new world, there were other of his kind out there, greater than the little creatures maybe he should visit one, discover more about this place he now found himself. First he travelled to the midnight isle of mist seeking the creator of such a masterpiece. He sent a gentile word throughout the isle, and all creatures heard a gentile voice whisper in their ear

"I seek the master of the isle, I Colledig wish to make friends and discover more about this marvellous place."

[Razade]

The presence study the world, moving from experience to experience. Some creatures sensed something was watching, but none stopped in their business. The presence saw many things in his travels, a great cat trapped in ice, a giant rodent which hid its hoard beneath a tree, a feline hides its kill high in the tree top, a wolf alpha hide it weak leg from it pack, a isle forever trapped in mist and a hundred more little secrets were discovered in it first explorations.

Colledig slowly became aware of his self in his travelled, and marvelled at the wonder and beauty of this new world, there were other of his kind out there, greater than the little creatures maybe he should visit one, discover more about this place he now found himself. First he travelled to the midnight isle of mist seeking the creator of such a masterpiece. He sent a gentile word throughout the isle, and all creatures heard a gentile voice whisper in their ear

"I seek the master of the isle, I Colledig wish to make friends and discover more about this marvellous place."


The Island is silent save for the pitter patter of rain, the verdant and lush forests that cover its rockey expanse cloaked by fog until the world dissolves into white. However at the words of the Godling, a thousand swirling scrolls appear as if from thin air to circle the intruder. "And why do you seek the Master of this land? You who are like I, Yen'Hi."

[Kapow]

*splish*
It danced on the waters that were the world,
*splash*
bathing in the light of the sun,
*splish*
jumping from wave to wave,
*splash*
it splitted the rays into myriads of colors.

Then the light was gone, the waves were gone, there was something hard under it and water was falling from the sky, hanging in the air.

It clinged to the rock, taking it all in - fascinated.
That's interesting, hard stuff and water that's hovering. Can I do this too...?

And Matole became one with the mist, dancing through the eternal rainy night of the island.
Then he saw them, little colored things flying through the night.
Pity, all those colors would be so much brighter in the sun.
And he raised and raised, up into the clouds.
Everything should see the sun.
Jumping from cloud to cloud, he tickled them, until their rain expanded to the day-side of the world. And the light broke and colored the sky.
Giant bows of color linked the sky with the water and very slowly, they moved, and as they moved, they took the world with them, turning.
The misty island slowly crawled into it's first day, and although the clouds blocked most of the sun, the mist got lighter and the wet rocks glittered in the sun.
The little deity in the clouds rejoiced
Yippee, that's fun!

Start-AP: 3/3
Alter Land: -1 AP (Get the world to turn)Okay, I made it so, that the world starts to turn, because of rainbows. I hope that's not too strange or big. It doesn't mean, it has to stay that way, it can very well only be the initial shove.
Actual-AP: 2/3

[Toxic Mind]

No one would be able to point to a single thing and say "that's why she woke." There were theories of course, but none concrete enough to point the finger of blame. Hynix was a shame, as it would have been nice to be able to blame someone for Yara, as one could hardly blame the huntress herself. She was only fulfilling her imperative after all.

The debate would rage whether it was the natural melting of the ice that awoke her, or the presence of prey on the island, or the sudden shift of the earth beginning to move. Though the point was moot. With a sound like the fistfight of the titans, the glacier shatters, the shards flying across the world. As the icy mist cleared, one could see the inert form of Yara, still curled up where she once slept in the ice. The bottom of the glacier was intact, if cracked and weeping, but the top was scattered across the world. For a full day she waited, lying without motion, simply waiting, the consummate patient huntress. She had all the time in the world, after all, and she knew soon enough that someone would come to investigate.

Yara waits.

[mystic1110]

Gods were certainly interesting - brothers and sisters as they were - but the sun's reflection was enraptured by the ones that sprung forth from the Hushed one. Fluttering scrolls which perched on trees and flew in schools like birds - but ah - birds didn't exist did they? If they did, people would say they nested and flew like books in the air. Wasn't that fun!

And so one day, the day three days after the world began to spin, the scrolls began to migrate. To explore the world, and to write down what they saw in their own pages. Not all of them left their god's island to travel across the barren sea to the Hunting Fields of Yara and Mandig's rats, no only the bravest little books made that journey - or at least attempted to.

Some scrolls grew tired in flight and collapsed into the sea - their pages wet and see through - their seems unraveled until they simply sank or disintegrated. Those were sad times. But some of the scrolls made it - the bravest and the strongest. Scrolls and books of harsh words and iron will. And yet when they saw the new land the books flew in a cacophony of joy.

They fluttered through the air, their pages exposed for all to see. They didn't cover themselves up with their covers, and they danced and were merry.

In a puddle of water in the center of the merriment the reflection of the scroll's revel laughed - as first revels went, this wasn't awful. Not at all. Their was something beautiful in watching books engage in a little fun. But it wasn't enough. Not nearly.

But first the reflection would have to get around to making beer eventually. And he must most definitely make blood. Papyrus pulp just wasn't the same.

[Robert Blackletter]

The Island is silent save for the pitter patter of rain, the verdant and lush forests that cover it's rockey expanse cloaked by fog until the world dissolves into white. However at the words of the Godling, a thousand swirling scrolls appear as if from thin air to circle the intruder. "And why do you seek the Master of this land? You who are like I, Yen'Hi."


Colledig mastered his fear and allowed the swirling scroll to see his true form, A magpie made of shadow, and replied
"I seek knowledge and I seek friends. We are new to this world and few in number, together we can shape this world. AS i said I am Colledig. the whispered shadow and I know many secret of the land. I know where squirrels hoard their nuts and where the rabbit hides it barrow. I even know which Messager carry a hidden love for each other. What of you Yen'hi, What sort of being are you?

[Razade]

Colledig mastered his fear and allowed the swirling scroll to see his true form, A magpie made of shadow, and replied
"I seek knowledge and I seek friends. We are new to this world and few in number, together we can shape this world. AS i said I am Colledig. the whispered shadow and I know many secret of the land. I know where squirrels hoard their nuts and where the rabbit hides it barrow. I even know which Messager carry a hidden love for each other. What of you Yen'hi, What sort of being are you?

The scrolls continue their dance, one slowly growing larger than all the others around it. "I to seek knowledge and to share that knowledge with others. For this I have sent my children across the world with the hopes they will return with stories from the corners of World. This land is a land dedicated to learning, let it be a place where all may find refuge."

[Robert Blackletter]

The scrolls continue their dance, one slowly growing larger than all the others around it. "I to seek knowledge and to share that knowledge with others. For this I have sent my children across the world with the hopes they will return with stories from the corners of World. This land is a land dedicated to learning, let it be a place where all may find refuge."

"Well gathering knowledge is important even if I don't agree with sharing it all, as some knowledge is not your to share, but I like the thought that all can find refuge here. Your children would be these scroll creatures fluttering about? I like them! I may make something similar for myself at some time. Will you accept my offer of friendship Yen'Hi? "

[Toxic Mind]

The glacier's destruction had cleared the area for a time, but naturally the animals returned. And Yara could hear the blood pumping through their veins, their hearts beating. Tiny, smaller than her, but still enough.

HUNGER

It gnawed at her, and she opened one eye. It was night now, and so the eye closes, and the third set opens. The world becomes a patina of colors, the heat of the living bright against the shadowed blues and blacks of the cold earth and night. And she saw them. Rodents, small and quilled, scurrying around the island. They had never known the claws and fangs of a predator, and had no fear.

That would change. Yara was among them. One of the rodents climbed the glacier, and gazed upon the strange creature in front of it. Clearly not a rodent. Her tail twitched, and like a bolt of lightning, the rodent squealed once and died, pierced through. And for the first time, blood was spilled on the virgin earth. Most stained the glacier, but some fell to the soil nearby.

Yara took one razor sharp claw and sliced off the quills before devouring the rodent whole, bones crunching and breaking in powerful jaws. The smartest of the rodents ran when they smelled the coppery tang of blood on the air, but many did not. And so the culling began. It was easy at first. Many of the rodents had no survival instinct, and Yara slaughtered them. But some ran, and hid, and climbed and dug. These Yara allowed to live, for they showed the promise of true prey.

Throughout the night she hunted across the range and breadth of the continent. No challenge, not truly, but a simple culling of those too weak to even attempt survival. And finally, her fur soaked in blood, satiated by flesh and bone and marrow and blood, Yara returned to the Glacier as the sun dawned, to sleep, licking herself clean. Her fur once again blends in perfectly with the glacier, only the wash of blood even betraying that a creature dwelled there.

Yara dozed lightly.

[Razade]

"Well gathering knowledge is important even if I don't agree with sharing it all, as some knowledge is not your to share, but I like the thought that all can find refuge here. Your children would be these scroll creatures fluttering about? I like them! I may make something similar for myself at some time. Will you accept my offer of friendship Yen'Hi? "


"All knowledge here is free, none shall be kept secret or secure. What one does off the island cannot be controlled, but my children will seek all they can out and return it here If you seek to keep something safe, you shall keep from their sight. Everyone is friends on this island, none shall fight. If you wish to fight you must leave the island. One cannot fight around the fireplace." Yen'hi entones, however comes to rest face to "face" in front of the other godling. "We have an understanding, yes Colledig?"

[Robert Blackletter]

"All knowledge here is free, none shall be kept secret or secure. What one does off the island cannot be controlled, but my children will seek all they can out and return it here If you seek to keep something safe, you shall keep from their sight. Everyone is friends on this island, none shall fight. If you wish to fight you must leave the island. One cannot fight around the fireplace." Yen'hi entones, however comes to rest face to "face" in front of the other godling. "We have an understanding, yes Colledig?"

I understand Yen'hi, and out of respect for you making this place refuge for the lost, I shall not fight here, but I warn you and any of your children who takes what is mine will forfeit its existence. I came here offering friendship and you have talked of war, so be it. I may be a little god but that give you no right of veiled threats, to bully. I leave your presence now, maybe others of our kind are more civil. Colledig reply his whispered voice getting more harsh until it almost hurts to hear it. Next time we meet, I will not be so kind And with that Colledig ran to the main land looking for another of his kind

[mystic1110]

When the first blood was spilled by Yara it landed in the soil. It was a forgettable puddle. There were so many great implications about that first kill, so many consequences that the blood itself was forgotten. The someone didn't forget. Someone rejoiced. The blood shimmered when no one was looking. It was not naturally reflective - blood is more dull than shiny, it draws in the colors around it and reduces them to a uniform brown. For dried blood is not as romantic as blood full of the fire of life. However this blood was not dull - it didn't shine, but instead it reflected as if it was a red mirror. The whole icy world of yara - already full of reflections - was portrayed in red in that puddle of blood. And since the ice glaciers reflected the blood, and the blood reflected them - the blood refracted into infinity. It was wonderful.

And so the blood's reflection stood up. How? Who knows. The reflection was the god of mirth, and with gods of mirth things simply happen because they do. And so the God danced through the forest and saw the animals of the Hunting Fields and saw them spill each others blood. The God saw them mount each other and spill their seed into each other. The seed would take root to create more blood. Blood to seed. Seed to blood. The reflection smiled, and danced among the animals and taught them to dance and sing, and to express their happiness. But most importantly the god gave the animals shame. For debauchery does not have meaning if indulgence does not exist.

And with the lessons of the reflection over, the reflection took the form of the goddess Yara, but unlike Yara, the reflection was still covered with Blood and what appeared to be the stains of vomit on its mouth as if it had eaten poisonous mushrooms and purged itself. Yara's reflection strode to the sleeping goddess and gently rocked her awake.

Sister sister, lets bathe in blood together. Sister sister, lets dance in entrails and laugh with our prey and tell the stories at night now that the sun hides itself each day.

AP 3

Boon: 1 AP. I give the animals of the world Sentience. We now have talking intelligent animals. Well. . . . intelligent is a strong word. Let's just say they can all speak, but they have the emotional capacity and logical thinking of an average child. Maybe a teenager. So some may be clever, but most would just be innocent. Well. . . not innocent. They are still animals - so they still have the need to kill and hump.

AP 2

[Razade]

I understand Yen'hi, and out of respect for you making this place refuge for the lost, I shall not fight here, but I warn you and any of your children who takes what is mine will forfeit its existence. I came here offering friendship and you have talked of war, so be it. I may be a little god but that give you no right of veiled threats, to bully. I leave your presence now, maybe others of our kind are more civil. Colledig reply his whispered voice getting more harsh until it almost hurts to hear it. Next time we meet, I will not be so kind And with that Colledig ran to the main land looking for another of his kind



"If that is how you wish to view these facts I can do nothing but let you go. I was merely trying to warn you however. Walk in peace." Yen'Hi entones, returning to the cave where it first took form. Every story needed an antagonist. All would pass as it required, for the greatest story of all was one that was still being told.

[Toxic Mind]

The eyes opened one at a time. First were the eyes like all the others, the eyes that simply saw. And what they saw was Yara, but not Yara, because Yara knew that she was herself and the were none like her. The second eye opens as the first closed. The heat world imposes on the world, yet this thing does not heat quite right. It is simulacrum of life, yet not life, and it heats, but not as warm as Yara. The third eye opens as the second shuts. This eye was black as the void, and in this eye Yara could see energy, the energy that gave all things movement. And the other Yara burned like the sun in her eye, burned as only Yara did.

Yara stands, and the first eye opens again, and the others shut. She stares at the being in front of her. The god in front of her. "Blood and entrails I know. But you I do not. You name me sister yet you have not run with me, have not hunted with me. Who are you to be sister?" The voice that issued forth was not course or growling, but sweet and inviting, like the jaws of a trap closing even as they hide behind a velvet curtain.

[mystic1110]

Yara's reflection looked at her quizzically. And then it stood on its hind legs and began to slowly waltz - as if standing still was akin to death, but after all is it not?

The reflection span around as it roamed around the other goddess, the blood on its fur splattering the ground, flung by the twirling motions. And then the dancing stopped, as if the silent music was abruptly paused, or as if the reflection decided that this revel had come to an end, or at least deserved a heady solemn reprieve. And then Yara's reflection smiled. A mad man's smile, with more teeth than even Yara had, as if each of them was reflected by the other, and the happiness expressed by the mouth, was simply too much for it.

Ah but I did run with you. I ran with you when you came upon your prey, when you shone in their eyes, bright with fright. I ran with you when you roamed the glaciers, my paws right underneath your paws, just on the other side of the ice. When you lapped waters, our tongues intertwined, saliva exchanged between the two. I am your brother-sister-husband-wife. I am your reflection and the reflection of all the other gods. I am Jukovak. Will you dance with me?

[Toxic Mind]

"Jukovak. Yara tastes he name on her tongue, as if the name itself was a part of the god it belonged to. I am Yara, and your answer is fair. So we shall dance. A dance of blood and life and death and fear and joy. Come. Let us dance in the forests, among the trees. If you wish to dance, then let us go." Yara lopes off into the trees to hunt, not waiting to see if the other follows her. Yara was of action and motion, of stillness that was only coiled muscles and energy waiting to be unleashed.

Yara, assuming that Jukovak follows in some form or another, does not stop, but speaks while running. "You have changed the creatures in my lands. Let us see if it is for the better."

[mystic1110]

Jukovak has taken the form of a thousand birds to follow Yara. A whole murder of crows, and a parliament of owls to manage them. Even more varieties. To better flit about and observe the hunt. Some of the birds simply mated on the branches. And as the god pursued the Huntress, the birds who fell behind were forgotten, and were simply birds, neither divine nor safe from the claws of the now intelligent animals.

The birds moved in an eerily fractal pattern. For each one that flew left, one flew right. It was balanced in a way, balanced in the logic of an ever moving mirror which did not decide how it should be positioned. The birds chuckled, in sync. A weird shrill cry. Perverse as if the birds, and the god within them, relished the thought of the having the birds tear each others feathers off at any moment. Perhaps it would do that. But probably not. Not yet. Or would it? Whatever was more amusing at the time. Whatever made a better revel in the end.

Why for the better? Change is simply change.

And one of the birds, A great Eagle, carried off a small rabbit which was ahead of Yara. The Rabbit squealed - animals are always afraid - but with its new capacity for terror, the Rabbit pleaded and begged, and eloquently stated that the eagle should not really eat it, that the Rabbit would serve the eagle - yes yes, and its children would worship the eagle, and pay homage to it, oh if only it would spare its life - the rabbit would have so many children - you know how rabbits are - and please Mr. Eagle, don't kill me. On and on it went, the Rabbit promised anything that came to mind to spare its life. And with one claw, Jukovak disemboweled it and made the eagle bathe in its blood.

Was that better? I don't think so. It should have tried poetry. I like poetry. Or at least I think I do.

And with that Jukovak took a butterfly and spoke with it, and taught it how to rhyme, and how to sing. All this was in the time in between the beats of a hummingbirds wings, but what was time to a god. What is time to a poem? And thus the blood covered eagle taught the butterfly poetry, and then that butterfly in its short life, taught it to the other animals of the forest.

Even now you could hear a solemn ode to the fallen Rabbit - a sonorous beautiful poem, that spoke of the Rabbit's great accomplishments and deeds, and its tragic death.

And Jukovak cried while he smiled.

Ah yes. I do like poetry.

AP 2

Boon: Teach the animals Poetry

AP 1.

[Toxic Mind]

Yara laughs, a strange huffing sound, as if the giant cat did not understand how to laugh, but needed to express humor nonetheless. "Change must have purpose, and there is but one. To evolve. To survive. Observe." Yara's coat of fur shifts, and in a moment, Jukovak cannot see her. She blends perfectly with the forest surrounding her. Oh he knows well enough that she is there, to another god she blazes with light, but his eyes, the birds, cannot see her. She is on the creatures in an instant. The first one, a magpie, tries to reason with her and offer her gifts. She breaks its neck. The second sings a beautiful poem praising her beauty. With a swift bite, she ends its life. And then she found a creature, with fangs and a long snout, covered with fur. Lupine, the creature stared at her with deference, but not fear. "Will you kill me?" It asks of Yara. "I will fight you. I will stop you if I must."

Yara smiles, and taps the creature on the nose. "You do not appease. You recognize strength, but do not bow before it. You are willing to give your life. This is good. You will find others, and they will see the power in you. They will follow, because they must." The Wolven, for Yara had given them Name, bnacks away, never looking away from Yara, and then turns and runs. Soon enough, other Wolven find him as the Frost Huntress promised. Some challenge his right, and those he kills, but many follow him. They work together, becoming greater hunters than each individual could be. And the forest creatures began to fear the Wolven.

Yara turns back to Jukovak. "Change. Now they will grow, and thrive, and hunt and live. You create, but it does not assist. It merely is. That is change, but it is not good change. It merely is."


Concept: Packs - Animals gifted with pack mentality will naturally form social hierarchy based on strength and dominance. They become greater for this organization, though some would see it as brutal and unfair. Yara sees it as the most fair of all. The strong rule, the weak fall in line or die. Open concept for predatory species. For non-predators, ask first. Currently only Wolven are pack oriented.

[Kapow]

For a while Matole was content with dancing through the clouds, playing with the colors of light and changing its appearance to ever new forms.

But it couldn't last, could it?
Gazing down at the world, The Cloud spotted a single scroll flying above a huge mass of frozen water and decided to follow it.
Let's see where this leads me.
While descending, ist shape became more and more similar to that of the scroll.
Then, close to the cold it catched up and reached out to touch it "Ha! Tag, you're it...!"
"Oh, what...?" The wet touch soaked the scroll and nearly instantly it was frozen solid, tumbling to the ground, shattering into pieces.
If it didn't want to play with me, it could just have said so.
Oh what's that?
Matole had spotted a tiny rodent on the glacier and at once forgetting about the poor scroll it decided to investigate.
Flying closer it adressed it, "Hey, little one, you'd like to play?"
Sadly, this animal had already learned fear and fled.
What is it with all those beings, I just want someone to play with.
Perhaps...
The shape of Matole's cloud-Body began to come apart, misty shape of scrolls and rodents began to form and danced around in an ever faster whirl.
"HA! Hahaha! Yes, let's dance my children."

Again, the Dripping Mist was happy.
But as well as their heir, the mistlings where curious about the world. And so they began to leave the dance, looking for new and interesting shapes and Actions.

2/3 AP
-1 Ap Create Life (Mythological Creatures): Mistlings (Fogpeople)Mistlings are not much more than sentient patches of Fog. They are very curious and playful, but other than that, they have not much Motivation on their own. They travel the world, taking on shapes they Encounter, copying behavior without knowing why, just for the fun of it. As they are nearly incorporeal, it is quite difficult to get rid of them.
1/3 AP

[squidpope]

The hot sun beat down on the dunes in the south of the newly formed continent, the occasional breeze slowly pushing sand piles around in the desert wastes. When larger gusts blew, the swirling winds would whip the sand into dust devils moving slowly across the otherwise featureless place. This was a place where mortals could go mad from heat or dehydration, seeing things in the shadows of dunes, or in the constant spinning of sand as it was stirred from its place and set back down by the wind. It was during a particularly strong wind that the god Rizzit appeared, standing in the settling dust. He dragged himself slowly into the shadow of a nearby dune and lay down, the links that bound his hands and feet piling up beneath him. "It's hot," he said to no one in particular.

He looked up to the sun that was creeping slowly closer to its midday point, the shade form the dune slowly vanishing behind him. An old book flew above him, blotting out the scorching sun for a brief moment before turning around and daring closer to him. It hovered around him for a few moments, then darted back the way it had come. Rizzit stretched, his iron chains clinking against one another as they tried to keep his arms as close as possible. "Well, It appears I'm not going anywhere quickly, might as well get to work." and with that the god stood up, and raised his hands as high as he could. The sand in front of him shifted, and then fell away as a pillar of jagged glass rose up through the otherwise featureless desert, its reflective surface sending strange patterns of light around the rest of the desert. Hues of colors never before seen pierced the sky as the spire split the light from the sun twisting it and bending it in the most incomprehensible ways.

"This is a good start." he muttered to himself, and slowly walked to the base of the crystal tower before lying down again.


3 AP to begin with
alter land 1 AP- Glass Pillar- a large tower of crystal in the middle of the desert, it sends out beams of light that strike the desert in different ways depending on the position of the sun. This is incredibly disorienting for people trying to travel through the desert.
2 AP left

[bryn0528]

A fine dust spread over the world. Where it landed, it took to seed (no, not like that). These seeds lay in wait, dormant on any purchase of earth they could find, for the world was mostly covered in oceans then. Far in the north, past Yara's frozen wasteland, there was a forest of trees. And in this forest all manner of beast roamed and hunted freely. Trees too, as they aged and died, filled this landscape with corpses. And upon each body, in the dark and in wetnesss and the occasional warmth, given enough time of stillness, sprouted strange growths. The seeds, spread across the world, found purchase in carrion and detris, and bloomed into all manner of mushroom and lichen, of strange shelf-like protrusions on sickly trees and dark spots of mold on stagnant fruit.

And somewhere beneath that dark canopy, a tiny, wizened man, who resembled nothing more than a tiny, brown mushroom, bent his crooked spine over to examine an even smaller, barely visible, stalk protruding from the ground. He harumphed once, set his arthritic back upright once more, and waddled over to the next one in sight, only inches from the first. The process took an agonizing several minutes, but Mykal knew he had nothing better to do with his time. He had the rest of eternity, really, waiting for him here.

But upon a point of reflection; where did the dust, spores actually, come from to seed this world? Well, all alone in the seas rides a flotilla of small rocks. Unlike other rocks, though, they are loamy and moist. It took some time for the thick blankets of moss to turn once solid boulders into suitable soil, but it happened, didn't it? Some might say the corpse of some fell seabeast first contained the seeds which later, through divine conception, flowered across the world, and that in fact, the little floating islands where not made of rocks at all, but the ancient splayed corpse of a whale or leviathan. They would of course, except that none of them knew if whales or leviathans actually existed back in those days, because this was a really long time ago indeed. But the fact remained, and even certain uneducated guesses were closer to the truth than even they could hope to see, that the floating isles prospered in all manner of fungi, each generation of growth feeding the next and so on and so forth. And these little islands, once the world started to spin, were carried on every manner of wave and wind, for it did not have roots which tied it to the earth beneath. And so it came to pass yhat every corner of the world held in it the potential to propigate mushrooms and their ilk.

Final AP: 2.
(Alter Land, the Floating Mushroom Gardens.) -1.

[mystic1110]

The songbirds on the branches of the forest began to snicker. If you never heard a songbird sinker, you don't want to. It's an obnoxious shrill sound.

Sister sister. To thrive and hunt and live is good. I agree. I agree. But so is to enjoy the hunt. To enjoy the life. And you can not enjoy unless you feel sorrow. There is no honey without the curdled milk after all. Or so I think.

The birds flew upward, and it was clear that they were only birds at this point. Yara could feel the other god talking to her, but it was clear he was talking from beneath the surface of her own eyes. Reflecting himself off her irises. After all there was nothing else to reflect of from and Jukovac has no say when there is no reflection.

But thank you for the hunt sister! I'll be sure to hunt with you again. And I'll craft my changes and you'll make my changes mean something. I am fine with that. Enjoy the poems! Pay attention to the spiders - I have a feeling they will be particularly good with sonets.

And with that the god was gone. Perhaps Yara blinked?

----

Elsewhere a dance was going on. And what is Jukovac but a dancer? (one of his many talents!) And so as Matole danced with his mistlings, the other god could feel the presence of mirth and bemusement. The whirlwind, that was the dance of the mist born, was exhilarating. Round and round it went. Ah. . . if only the mist creatures could vomit from the nausea. That would have been excellent.

Jukovac took the form of a rainbow. The light refracted off the various dancing forms of the fog people. Each droplet of their beings twisting the light of the setting sun till Jukovac could take Matole's hands and spin him around. The rainbow god spoke to his brother.

Brother Brother. What fun you have! And your people! Look at how they dance!

And the mistlings did indeed have a special place in wherever Jukovac kept his heart. They were like mirrors themselves - they copied others without truly knowing why. But if they would say why it was because it was fun. And what better answer could Jukovac give?

What will you make now brother?! I can't wait to see!

Jukovac talked as if he already knew his brother, although they were never introduced. Perhaps it was because in one way Jukovac knew all the gods already. He was their reflection. Darker in the presence of darkness, brighter in the presence of brightness. He walked beneath them, as if the world was a mirror - but then he walked among them, showing them who they were. Perhaps. Jukovac would be the first to scoff at that idea, and then wink at you with your own eye.

He was fond of eyes, as it was turning out.

[Kapow]

Elsewhere a dance was going on. And what is Jukovac but a dancer? (one of his many talents!) And so as Matole danced with his mistlings, the other god could feel the presence of mirth and bemusement. The whirlwind, that was the dance of the mist born, was exhilarating. Round and round it went. Ah. . . if only the mist creatures could vomit from the nausea. That would have been excellent.

Jukovac took the form of a rainbow. The light refracted off the various dancing forms of the fog people. Each droplet of their beings twisting the light of the setting sun till Jukovac could take Matole's hands and spin him around. The rainbow god spoke to his brother.

Brother Brother. What fun you have! And your people! Look at how they dance!

And the mistlings did indeed have a special place in wherever Jukovac kept his heart. They were like mirrors themselves - they copied others without truly knowing why. But if they would say why it was because it was fun. And what better answer could Jukovac give?

What will you make now brother?! I can't wait to see!

Jukovac talked as if he already knew his brother, although they were never introduced. Perhaps it was because in one way Jukovac knew all the gods already. He was their reflection. Darker in the presence of darkness, brighter in the presence of brightness. He walked beneath them, as if the world was a mirror - but then he walked among them, showing them who they were. Perhaps. Jukovac would be the first to scoff at that idea, and then wink at you with your own eye.

He was fond of eyes, as it was turning out.
Oh joy! Finally! Someone to dance with, to play with!
Matole didn't know who this was, it didn't know why it called it brother, it didn't even was sure what a brother would be.
Matole didn't care! It was a rainbow, it was fun.

"Oh brother, where have you been all the time? It is no fun dancing alone.
What have YOU done? Where did you hide?"

And while dancing ever faster, into the sky, laughing, Matole continued "Hahaha, I don't even know who you are, but you are a friend. I want to give you something. You asked what I'll make next? I don't know yet, whatever would you like to see?"
He grinned widely, "You don't have to answer. Whatever it will be, it will be dedicated to you."

[Lizard Lord]

As Yara's predator's roamed there become only two types of animals; the hunters and the hunted; the predators and the prey. Truly the predators appreciated their lot in life as they were at the top and none, save perhaps larger predators, would dare to hunt them.

But the grounds were with the blood of the prey. Those that did not die immediately fled and hide. All manner of these creatures hide in the bushes and threes and many even made burrows of their own to escape the gnashing of carnivorous teeth.

In one such burrow prey of many breeds hide together. The rabbits, the squirrels, the mice, the groundhogs, the chipmunks and more hide together in what they hoped was the best hiding spot. They huddled together and shivered and the very end of the massive hole, but they were not cold. Yara's wolven were out there and the smaller creatures stood no chance against them.

Perhaps it was the heat of their body or the force of their fear but something else started to grow among the huddled mass. It grow larger and larger and it pushed the huddle apart forcing the creatures to make full use of the burrow's space. They stared in fear and awe and what had just grown in their burrow. Before them stood a squirrel larger than any other, with fur glowing almost as bright as the sun.

"Fear not" The squirrel spoke. "For your King Ratameeko has arrived and from this day forth you not prey. You are the greatest of animals and through stealth and cunning we shall take what we can!"

[Razade]

Yen'Hi retreated to the cave it had first taken form, and all the walls about it began to glow. The Birth of the World was not something that could slip from the lips of anyone yet only as a Little God it was beyond the might of itself to paint the picture fully. Details skipped, facts distorted, events displaced in the timeline. The turning of the world happened before the birth of the Midnight Islands. Animals began speaking poetry only after the great Mushroom Forests raised to the clouds. Simple realities with easy explanations were stepped over in the hopes of writing a narrative more epic and grand than the events truly were. For Yen'Hi was not the God of Facts but the God of the Story, and as any teller of a story he preferred it as his version. With another brilliant flash in the gloom the starts of that very story took shape in the blurred writings on his own paper. It was a good start. But the Little God had yet more work to do, moving to meet the first of its children that returned from abroad.

Love and loss, the knowledge of yet more of its own kind moving through the world and the loss of his children. Yet more to weave into the greater narrative. It would need more sturdy creatures to travel the world. To many of his Messengers had passed away, drowned in the oceans that still mostly covered the world. It would need a place for them to rest, a place for all to rest and a creature that could survive the long travels while others used its protection. So it looked into the oceans and found what it needed. The ink of his Messengers, their blood that was diluted in the waters came together, descending upon the unsuspecting whale before wrapping about it and in a flash of light and words the leviathan breached the waves. What was once blood and meat was now wood and ink, its songs replaced with the tales from the birth of the world as it soared into the sky. Inside were tomes upon tomes, air to breath and food to eat for the birds it swallowed up as it continued to fly through the air and among the Mushroom Forests. A beast that could swim through not just water but any substance and keep all about it safe. The Storytellers were born. If the Messengers were its children than they were its favored creations and thus Yen'Hi gave them another boon. Their stories held power, power to shape the world around them and so did Yen'Hi inject his little power into the very fabric of the tales all would tell around the fire place. The power of the birth of the world. It was not grand magic that could rend heavens or bring forth miracles but it was a start. It was the magic of the camp fire and the magic that could convince the rains to fall over crops. It was the magic that could speak to the dead or recall a long lost time for one ephemeral moment. Like the stories that were told to bring forth the power, the magic was only as strong as the tale and as strong as the teller of the story. And so it was Yen'Hi's desire that through this magic the words it valued so much would never fade from the world. For now it was the secret of the Story Tellers but by its very nature it would not stay secret for long

3 AP Roll over

Create Life: The Story Tellers (1 AP)

Create Supernatural Concept: Magic (2 AP)

1+2=3
4AP-3 AP=1 AP)

[bryn0528]

A pod of tree sized fungus, one of many that broke off from the main floating island and formed its own growing colony, rocked gently on the surface of the water. A whale-sized, and appropriately whale-shaped, library breached the surface of the ocean in an impreesive spray of surf. "Whoa," said a tiny voice, full of amazement. You might think it belonged to Mykal, the mushroom god, but this would be an error, for the mushroom god had no voice to speak with. It did, however, belong to a creature called a Mycon, who nothing so much resembled the god as an overgrown and sentient mushroom who got tired of waiting around and decided that, it too, could grow legs and adventure about. Which is... err, more or less exactly what it happened to be. The small family group of Mycons watched as this strange creature sailed away into the sky.

Now, as it turns out, when wood is exposed to water, it tends to swell and rot. And in such a lovely environment do fungi like to sprout. So as time came to pass, every chunk and crack of the Storytellers' filled with brackets and little mushrooms and patches of moss, not so unlike the barnacles that found refuge on real whales. And as fungus was so very good and patient, it listened in quiet, retrospective awe as the singing libraries hummed tales of the world. If only they had the eyes to see it themselves, they would, as the Storytellers sailed blissfully through all manner of sky.

It did not take long for the first mushrooms to become impatient. "Well dang it," it was attributed to the first Mycon, seconds before it actually became so, "I want to see the world too! I want to walk upon my own legs, as Mykal our Savior does so too. I widh to share in great adventures of the world, and maybe plant my own seeds here or there if you catch my drift." Mykal sighed deeply here, blushing slightly. And as he exhaled, across the world and the scatteed gardens which float on both water and air, the Mycons arose and were born.

And it came to pass, too, that they learned to grow and harvest more of their own kind, and the kind of which fungi that just generaly laid about and didn't do much thinking. Upon tjose they ate, after waking, for they found that detris was no longer palatable (yet still highly revered, for they grew there future generations in stinking heaps of trash, as well as their own crops). With time in this respect they learned of the myriad of flavors and effects that each fungus had high to hold, for Mykal in his wisdom gave each of his denizens power within themselves, to be harvested by select processes of mashong and cutting, of stewing and drying in the noonday sun. By mixing and matching ever different varities, they found they could too, in turn, create ever shifting effects of infinite varities; soups that warmed the soul, foul concoctions that sent you into a deep slumber, powders that so well preserved the aching hulls of flying libraries.

For some Mycon found they well liked the comfort of a Storyteller's innards, cushioned with moss and plenty of good books to read. So they spread their alchemical powders over the soft and brittle pages, that they might last a century or two longer, and illness and disease found a hard lot in life should it be expected to find refuge in the friend of a Mycon.

Even deep within Yara's forests the Mycon roamed, and all the best dinner and garden parties had at least one mushroomfolk invited, for they were the best and only chefs of the land, in those early days. And not many bessts dared to feast upon Mycon flesh, foe it was chewy and did not taste of meat, and many Mycon were toxic to ingest to boot. Besides, the communal retalliation of itching powders and stinking clouds were not pleasant to behold.

Mykal found himself pleased at his own handiwork, as he continued to wakder, ever small and hidden, in the shadows of his own people.

Final AP: 0.
(Create life, Mycons) -1.
(Create concept, Alchemy) -1.

Mycons are our settings first (corporeal) humanoids, I do believe. They resemble their namesakes, as people shaped mushrooms, just in Mykal's image, though not as small. Typically a yard or meter tall, around that of knee or waist height of a grown adult human, although Mycons come in many different shapes and sizes. Mycons can be found living on the mushroom islands, the forests of Yara, and in the bellies of Storyteller's (that don't mind at least). They do not travel to the desert or the frozen wastelands, and the Midnight Isles are out of their reach for the moment. No large communities exist, just small, semi-nomadic family groups.

Alchemy, and its red-headed step-child, cooking, is the tool of the Mycons. I suppose it's pretty self evident about what it actually is. The Mycons are currently uninterested o sharing their arts with the rest of the world, as it is largely heir only boon and defense.

[mystic1110]

The Rainbow smiled slyly, if a rainbow could smile and if that smile could be smile. Gifts were important to the Rainbow, for he was the god of parties, and how rude do you have to be to come to a party without a gift? Gifts were like a prayer to the Rainbow - each a tithe - a small toll cost to be allowed into Jukovak's shadow. That's where all the best parties were after all.

A gift! Brother you are well mannered! I like your people, I like their dance. I want them to dance! but. . . what is dancing if they flaunt it in the open? If it's accepted without some humiliation and disapproval? Dancing must be rebellion! It must be a sacrifice of dignity! That is proper dancing! In hidden groves and underneath the densest of your fogs, away from the prying sun. Dancing must be forbidden - and that unwritten law must be broken time and time again!

The Rainbow took on darker hues - maroons and blues as deep as black - as if the rainbow was pleased with the conspiratorial tone of the conversation.

Please brother - make shame for me.

[Lizard Lord]

A rabbit ran through the woods as fast as it could. A lone wolf, cast from its pack, chased the rabbit as fast as it could. The rabbit was faster, but the wolf was persistent and could run for longer than the rabbit.

The rabbit, getting tired or running and hoping to end the chase, ran beneath a bush. The wolf continued to chase with no intent on letting a mere bush get between it and its meal. However when the wolf reach the bush it stopped and howled in pain, for the bush's thorns were many and dug deep into the wolf's flesh. The rabbit laughed and openly mocked the wolf. The wolf, enraged, tried to push into the bush but the thorns cut deep and the wolf was even stopped by the structure of the bush itself. The rabbit laughed more and the wolf then tried to dig under the bush, but was stopped as its claws could not cut the bushes strong roots. With the rabbit still laughing and the wolf still not willing to admit defeat, the predator tried circling the bush and striking into it at different angles. Still the thorns cut and still the rabbit laughed.

Eventually the wolf gave up. Even if there was a way to reach the rabbit, such a small meal was not worth the pain the thorns caused. The rabbit rejoiced for his king's advice had worked. The rabbit gathered the bushes berries, though he has no desire for berries himself, as his king commanded and returned back to where Ratameeko is waiting.

Elsewhere other animals were just as lucky and others not as lucky. For every rabbit that hides in the thorn bush there is one that is picked off by a fox. For every mouse that runs into its burrow before the hawk can catch it there is another swallowed by a snake. It was not perfect but those that now call themselves the greatest animals now stood a chance.

Those that survived this first mission had gathered many fruits, nuts, and seeds in general and brought them to their King.

Ratameeko took many of these seeds, not all or even the majority but still many, and pushed them together. The seeds squished and formed around each other and until they had transform into what resembled an acorn the size of, perhaps even slightly larger than, Ratameeko himself. He dug a hole and buried the acorn in it before turning to address his people.

"A king is nothing without his people and his people will need a place to shelter them. This seed, as we care for it, shall soon become shelter for us all. It shall be the home of all of you, the truly greatest of animals and the Nation of the Forrest!"

3 AP
-1 Form Nation: Nation of the Forrest.
Population:
Squirrels: 20%
Rabbits: 17%
Mice: 16%
Gophers: 11%
Chipmunks: 13%
Sparrows: 10%
Deer: 7%
Other Miscellaneous herbivorous animals: 5%
Other unknown rogue elements: 1%

[Toxic Mind]

As the Jukovak-Brother left, Yara slept for a time. The sun was very warming, and the ice was cool beneath her, and though it bled, as it always did, it's blood giving life to the forest, it never diminished in size, for it was born of the frost huntress, and her ice was beyond that of frozen water.

And while Yara slept, the wolven hunted, growing stronger and bolder, for they knew that the great huntress was no threat. Civilization is often scribed as the rise above animal brutality, but in the case of the Wolven, it was simply subjugation of that brutality towards a goal. As the Huntress slept, the Wolven found themselves spending time on two legs as much as four, and while they preferred four to hunt, two legs did make tasks easier, such as the building of rudimentary homes and structures near their den-caves. So the Wolven grew tribes around packs, the alpha became the chieftain, but he ruled by strength as always. To an outsider, it might seem that little had changed beyond the Wolven using two legs on occasion, but the animals in the Hunting Grounds knew. They saw that the Wolven had transcended simple beasts. It remains to be seen if Yara will smile upon this.

For it would not be for weeks until someone went to check the glacier, climbing up to see if the beasts still slumbered. And they found nothing. Yara was gone, and the Wolven knew not where.

The Huntress had left the forest weeks ago, to explore her lands. She considered the north until a beacon from the desert caught her eye. So she lopes off in the direction of the crystal pillar, leaving the Wolven to evolve and grow without her, and fear her return.

She travels across the desert, her coat blending perfectly into the sands. She deftly avoids the predators in the desert, her eyes picking them out easily. She reaches the pillar and looks around, waiting to see what manner of creature created this monolith.


2AP: Create Race - Wolven: Humanoid Wolves, they alternate between running on four legs and on two legs. They have formed rudimentary societies around strong alpha chieftains, and they share similarities to their wolf kin, though they are much larger and stronger. (think Worgen from WoW) The Eolven currently live entirely in the Forest for now, and hunt using fang and claw. For now, Yara does not recognize them as different from wolves, though that will likely change soon enough.

[Kapow]

The Rainbow smiled slyly, if a rainbow could smile and if that smile could be smile. Gifts were important to the Rainbow, for he was the god of parties, and how rude do you have to be to come to a party without a gift? Gifts were like a prayer to the Rainbow - each a tithe - a small toll cost to be allowed into Jukovak's shadow. That's where all the best parties were after all.

A gift! Brother you are well mannered! I like your people, I like their dance. I want them to dance! but. . . what is dancing if they flaunt it in the open? If it's accepted without some humiliation and disapproval? Dancing must be rebellion! It must be a sacrifice of dignity! That is proper dancing! In hidden groves and underneath the densest of your fogs, away from the prying sun. Dancing must be forbidden - and that unwritten law must be broken time and time again!

The Rainbow took on darker hues - maroons and blues as deep as black - as if the rainbow was pleased with the conspiratorial tone of the conversation.

Please brother - make shame for me.

"Shame?!"
The dance stopped abruptly, the Cloud-God obviously puzzled.
"Uh... I... ...don't understand why dancing should be disapproved. But well, alright, if that's what you want."
It wasn't Matole's nature to question things long time and so its cheerfulness returned soon.
"I'll have to think about how I can do this, shame isn't something I have thought about before.
But I'm sure there will be a opportunity somewhere, I just have to keep my eyes open."

And with a last whirl, it dissolved into a fine spray of mist: "So long, nameless brother, I'll hope we will dance again soon!"



Matole took to travelling the world again, and oh, how things had developed.
He saw islands floating on the sea, giant wooden constructs travelling in the winds, a huge tower of glass and light and colors - but nothing to be ashamed of.
There were small great animals collecting seeds and fruits in the woods, there were predators on four and two legs hunting them - and still nothing to be ashamed of.

This will prove to be difficult. -"sigh"- But I gave my word...

[squidpope]

" I really ought to get back to work" The chained god spoke to no one in particular, still blissfully unaware of the looming presence that stood watching him. "I think I will make something simple. Simple and... elegant. Simple elegant and... practical. Simple, Elegant Practical and- What was that?" Rizzit caught a small movement out of the corner of his eye, and turned swiftly towards the colorful but barren landscape. He saw nothing.

"Hm... must be the heat, I think I'm starting to see things. Well, things other than whats already there."
He chuckled to himself and turned back to the spire, walking slowly around its perimeter, one hand against its glassy side and the other slowly swinging his chain back and forth through the sand, forming patterns around his feet as he moved in slowly larger and larger circles spiraling out from the shard.

Anyone who was watching would have thought it was a strange sight, but strange sights are common in the heat of the desert.

[Toxic Mind]

What a strange creature thought Yara to herself. At first she had started, because she could not believe that any being had seen her, and let alone attempted to converse with her, but then she realized the thing was talking to itself. She thought about slicing it open, cutting its throat and letting its blood spill upon the sand, but she had never seen one such as it before.

And predators are always cautious of unknown quarry. Yara opened her second eyes, but it was no help. The being did not register even superimposed on the blazing heat of the desert. It was blinding. So she opens the third eye, and the world goes black. Yara can see the sand wryms tunneling below, through the sand. She can see the energy drawn from the sun by the few scrub grass. She can see the font of life that is the nearby oasis. But from the crystal, and the being, nothing. Which meant that the creature in front of her was as dead as the rocks. All living things need energy, and this had none.

Her coat ripples once, and then a baleful howl, which echoes across the dunes. Yara begins stalking. She stays a fair distance away, still hidden. And every so often, she howls, to see the things reaction. Does it fear? Does it run?

[squidpope]

"What are we looking at?" Rizzet whispers from just behind Yara, the chained god having snuck around behind her while she stared at a mirage of him. "Also, why are you yelling, do you know how loud you are?" He grins at the goddess, making eye contact with each pair in quick succession. He shrugs, turning to the spire, where the exact duplicate of him continues to walk in spirals around its base. "Ah. yes, the circle making one. I personally do not find this particular hallucination very entertaining, but it happens every day when the sun reaches about this height. I did not realize that others would find me so enthralling. Now if you do not mind, I am going to sit."

The god dropped down and lay in the sand, letting his muscles have a brief respite from the intense burden they bore. He makes a gesture, inviting Yara to sit beside him and watch the mirage of himself at the bottom of the dune. The image was starting to fade, giving way to more erratic and complex patterns of light.

"Do you know how difficult it is to get all the way up here silently in these chains? I couldn't let them clink because you seemed focused. You are like me, yes?"

[Toxic Mind]

The tail twitched, and Rizzit never knew how close he came to death. Only the blazing corona of energy stayed Yara's strike, for the hunting of gods was forbidden her without their permission. "Hallucination..." Yara watches as the vision fades. "I see." That explained it then. It was not real, and so it could not be seen in truth, only perceived. Yara looks at the other godling, at the chains that bound him. "You allow yourself to be bound? We are not alike then, I think." Her nostrils flare as she scents the metal of the bonds. Her coat stays the brown and gold of the sands, and she sits, though it is the posture of an animal on a watch, rather than relaxed, and her tail swishes back and forth, the barbed tip making patterns in the sand.

[squidpope]

The tail twitched, and Rizzit never knew how close he came to death. Only the blazing corona of energy stayed Yara's strike, for the hunting of gods was forbidden her without their permission. "Hallucination..." Yara watches as the vision fades. "I see." That explained it then. It was not real, and so it could not be seen in truth, only perceived. Yara looks at the other godling, at the chains that bound him. "You allow yourself to be bound? We are not alike then, I think." Her nostrils flare as she scents the metal of the bonds. Her coat stays the brown and gold of the sands, and she sits, though it is the posture of an animal on a watch, rather than relaxed, and her tail swishes back and forth, the barbed tip making patterns in the sand.

"I do not just allow myself to be bound, I choose it." Rizzit said. "It is a burden, most certainly, but it is necessary I think. Look." He lifted a manacled hand to the crystal sticking out of the earth,which now warped the light into the form of a garden. "That tower is no more than glass, made of the same stuff as the sand around us; and yet it can bend even the sunlight to its will. It is a thing of beauty in a barren desert, yet it is more than that. It is made from the desert, and its mere presence changes what the desert is." Rizzit turned towards the goddess. "That is why I wear chains. We are more than just the sand, for we are the spire, you and I, and we can create and destroy, even bend the world to our whim. But when day ends, we are still a piece of the world, and by changing the world have so too changed ourselves. Our fate and This worlds are impossibly intertwined, and as such, we must restrain ourselves, lest we lose ourselves in our power."

Rizzit paused.


"Some think Chains only hold down, or repress. But chains connect, they tie together, they join individuals into something none of them could could be on their own. It is for this reason that the strong must bind themselves, so that all may be more glorious together." His fingers clutched at the key around his neck and he sighed.

[Toxic Mind]

"You are wrong, Binder of Sands." There is no anger in Yara's voice, no hatred, but their was passion. This was a debate, a duel of words, and Yara was born in blood and ice, the battle between life and death, light and darkness, and she relished in battle of any kind. Dominance was gained and maintained many ways, and Yara knew them all.

"To bind ourselves so that others may rise creates weakness. To become great, one must prove worthy by climbing over all others to rise to the top. Watch."

And Yara howls, not a threat but a call, a challenge. A sand wyrm, massive in side, rows of teeth serrated and dripping with venom, erupts from a nearby dune. Yara points to it, and her tail whips. A chain of ice, links forged of Yara's will, throttles the beast, holding it in place. It rages against its captivity. "See. It hates the chains, it fights them. And chains can be broken by one weak link." At that moment, the chain snaps and the wrym is free, and rushes towards the two gods. "But if we are strong..." Yara turns to face the massive creature without fear, it many times larger than her form. "Then it knows it's place. It does not fight, for its will Is broken." Yara howls, a cry of fury and dominance, of a beast that will not be moved. And the wyrm stops. It slows, and then slowly, it's eyes never leaving Yara's own, it bows it's head, shutting its maw. And Yara holds it, then lashes her tail, and the wyrm disappears beneath the sands.

"Chains bind only the willing. Break your chains, and be free of them. Revel in your strength, and with your strength forge a stronger world, a world worthy of challenging you. That is the greatest calling."

[squidpope]

"You are wrong, Binder of Sands." There is no anger in Yara's voice, no hatred, but their was passion. This was a debate, a duel of words, and Yara was born in blood and ice, the battle between life and death, light and darkness, and she relished in battle of any kind. Dominance was gained and maintained many ways, and Yara knew them all.

"To bind ourselves so that others may rise creates weakness. To become great, one must prove worthy by climbing over all others to rise to the top. Watch."

And Yara howls, not a threat but a call, a challenge. A sand wyrm, massive in side, rows of teeth serrated and dripping with venom, erupts from a nearby dune. Yara points to it, and her tail whips. A chain of ice, links forged of Yara's will, throttles the beast, holding it in place. It rages against its captivity. "See. It hates the chains, it fights them. And chains can be broken by one weak link." At that moment, the chain snaps and the wrym is free, and rushes towards the two gods. "But if we are strong..." Yara turns to face the massive creature without fear, it many times larger than her form. "Then it knows it's place. It does not fight, for its will Is broken." Yara howls, a cry of fury and dominance, of a beast that will not be moved. And the wyrm stops. It slows, and then slowly, it's eyes never leaving Yara's own, it bows it's head, shutting its maw. And Yara holds it, then lashes her tail, and the wyrm disappears beneath the sands.

"Chains bind only the willing. Break your chains, and be free of them. Revel in your strength, and with your strength forge a stronger world, a world worthy of challenging you. That is the greatest calling."



"Using my strength to forge a stronger world is precisely what I am trying to do; though it will be one I am a part of, not one that I battle." Rizzit stood, and began to head down the pillar, gesturing for Yara to follow him. After walking around the pillar several times He beckoned the goddess over to where he was standing.

"The light here comes from all over, and you can see many things if you take enough time to look." From the place where they stood a image could be seen, a projection of some far distant pack hunting prey as their goddess had taught them to do. "These creatures are chained just as much as I am. They run free, yes. They arrange themselves by rank, true. The strong flourish, true. However, these beasts are bound to one another in a way that cannot be unbound save for death itself." The pack split off into three groups, darting after some unseen quarry in the more frozen north. "They are bound by blood, by kinship, and by brotherhood." As they watched, a mammoth came into view, lumbering about through the frozen tundra. "It is this chain that ties them together, and makes them stronger than beasts many times more powerful than themselves." The wolves broke out from the forest, the mammoth sprinting away only to be cut off by the another section of the pack, and so to with the third group until it was surrounded. They hounds finished the job quickly.

"These are bonds that you yourself forged, are they not? Chains that bind together, that strengthen the whole." Rizzet sat back down as the lights faded into that of a stream full of fish. "I do not think we are as different as you claim we are, Frost-Fanged."

[Kapow]

It is said, that once in ancient times, all the greatest animals of the forest received a calling, the sparrow and the squirrel, the mole and mouse, the rabbit and the rat, the deer and the dove and many more.
Some say they were called by reflections of themselves and so Jukovak had a hand in it. Others say that the shadows whispered them a secret and it was Colledig who invited them. Then some say it were fogpeople or mysterious storytellers and it can only have been Matole or Yen'Hi.
Probably they are all partly right.

However it came to pass, the animals gathered on a clearing, protected by mystic mists and soon they began to talk about how great they were.
The squirrel told all how many hoards it had, while the mouse praised it's ability to get almost everywhere. The rabbit claimed to be the best at outrunning the wolven. The rat said it had the most numerous offspring and so on.

They talked the whole night and when it was the turn of the chicken to speak, the first single ray of the morningsun fell upon a drop of dew and the light hit the rooster.
Without further thinking he called out, that he was the greatest dancer.
And went on trying to prove it.
There was a short moment of awkward silence, then the first laughter started.
Soon all the animals laughed at the sight of the bucking bird.
And the rooster felt ashamed and run away.

Since this day, the rooster's head is red from shame.
And it's also why you say someone is dancing like a rooster

Actual AP: 1+3 Rollover (right?)

-1 AP Create Concept: Shame

3 AP left

Funny never've been censored before, I just didn't know rooster :smallwink:

[Snowfire]

Seeker

The world turns. Turns again, again, and again. Light pulses across it, shining beauty down across every part of its surface, with it coming the hope of renewal and rebirth, with each cycle the life within change in places and ways so tiny as to be insignificant. Or so it would be, if such tiny things were not the seeds of greater change. Such is has it been, such is it, such it shall always be. The cycles rumble on, uncaring for the world around them. And something stirs. A spark lifts a tiny hand towards the light, reaching in to seek the endless spread of power hiding within.

Flame kindles in the night, driving back fear. Light spreads from the terminator line to echo out across the void. Sunbeams shade through cloud and mist to dance upon the fluttering petals of wakening flowers. And the hand reaches deeper, faith in something greater than itself leading it towards the things that will define it. Beauty? No...there is beauty in the light, but that isn't it. The world spins another turn as the spark contemplates the dilemma. Not beauty, not wonder, not light in all of its flavours, but a particular band of shades within which lies...what?

Golden light on fields of green, above the blue of water, through mist in splendour as the sun rises to wake the world around it from its fearful slumber. Not all fear the night, no - but many shall and many do in turn. Something stirs in hearts as that light descends upon them, something that is drawn from the beauty of its passing but is not wonder. An emotional presence that can break through a reality of sadness and shatter bonds of fear, will not die unless surrendered and that nothing but death will stop.

Hope.

The spark realises itself. And its hand tears loose a strand of infinity.

The Skies

The presence of the spark is felt soon after, as clouds begin to arrange themselves around the newly coming dawn. The sky begins to change, black turning to a deep purple with gold at its heart as the first rays of light graze the edge of the night. Wind dances through grass and treetops, a few rogue leaves turning in its hold as they fall. More clouds move, one at a time as if dragged painstakingly across the sky by some invisible power and then placed to frame the coming sunlight. And whilst the last clouds is 'dropped' just before the first rays of light, it is somehow all in place when it lances across the lightening sky to illuminate a scene that a painter would happily die for. Gold fills the sky, mist around the mountains in the distance splitting the light into sheets of radiance. Yet that isn't the real magic. Look closely, closer still. That land and mountains and trees aren't real. Well, weren't real. The light touches them, gold sparking as it touches what it recognises as fake. Then the sliver of the sun clear of the mountains flashes with blinding power, and all below it is.

Where once there was only ocean and what seemed to be life, an island formed. It was a small island, but to the spark that was the point. Not far from the coast of a great mass of land, filled with life, yet far enough to be alone here. Easily tended to by itself for the Dawn, not a vast sprawl that would need many. She had little time to focus on it, for the next dawn called her, but there was time enough to see a few more things done. Power crackled inside her, the Dawn bringing a renewal of all the effort she had had to pour into arranging it, and she looked down at the place she had called into being. It was a good start, beautiful in the light, and yet it was missing something...

Of course.

Hope was something of life, something that only living things could find. She felt the energy within her soul, pulling from the strand of infinity encased within it, and knew that there was enough to see this through. So for this place, this Beacon to be real, it must be more than just a place of beauty and bounty. But what to make? The spark looked at itself, and found that it had been changed. No longer a spark of light, now a thing possessed of a body and strange bendy things. Yet it made sense in a way, because those she had to make wouldn't be like her. Maybe it was a sign.

She raised one of the bendy things - she was pretty sure it was called an arm - and power flooded down onto the shoreline. Light filled the air, rings and ribbons spreading into the sand and pulling it upwards. Something like her, she thought. Something with this body, with...limbs, but most importantly with a wellspring of hope deep inside their souls. She was sure they would work out how to realise it by themselves, and if they didn't...well she would be able to help. Sometimes hope needs a little confidence, doesn't it. The sand grew and grew, far taller than she - for the world was far taller and these children would not have a strand of infinity within them as she did. A hundred, two, four. Five hundred shapes in the sand, of all sizes. Would that be enough? Not quite. More power flashed out from the spark, landing on nine other beaches around this one. That would have to be. There was little time left. The ribbons of gold concentrated around the statues of sand, her...it was called a hand, right? cupping further power and sending it streaming down.

Sand changed to flesh, power changed to blood, the transmutation took only brief seconds, yet something was still missing. Oh, she was stupid. Life needed souls. Easy enough.

And so Kyra, Child of Dawn, tore five thousand pieces from her own soul, each part holding a tiny fragment of the strand inside it. They poured into the statues of flesh and blood, each fragment settling in their hearts and sparking bodies to life. Eyes jerked open, breaths gasped in, the act of Creation coming in an instant along with all that their Mother needed them know. They would find the vital need of food easy to satisfy here, for it was in abundance and easy to find. Yet the best would be harder, and gentle nudges lead the way towards them as they coughed and blinked into being. Many ran to the stream nearby to drink and rinse their mouths of the taste of sand.

Yet many did not, eyes fixed upon the glowing star hanging before them. A figure like them formed, a girl of golden skin and caramel hair, clad in garments of sunrise mist. She smiled at them, but it wasn't a child's smile, and then light arced across the sky from where she flew.

My name is Kyra, Child of Dawn. Within each of you beats a shard of my own being, and so even without me here you shall never be alone. I cannot be the Mother I would wish to be, for I have so little time between the setting of the Dawns, but I will give you all in the time I can rest from that Duty. This island is yours, it shall be your home. The waters are rich, as are the forests, within them you shall find all you might ever need.

The child was beginning to shrink, only echoes of the dawn holding her size, and she seemed to realise that even as the ten ribbons of light completed their Creations. Villages, kayaks, the simplest of tools. Not much it might be, but surely enough. Again, it would have to be.

All you need is before, behind, and most importantly within you. There are other settlement of you, they will be your friends. And together...you will change the world.

The child shrunk further, four wings of golden light burst from back, and then she was gone in flash towards the west.

If I'm not mistaken, 6 to start with because rollover as we started on Saturday.

Shape Sanctum: Beacon
An island about the size of Britain off the coast of the Hunting Fields. Its only real magical traits at this point are that it's supernaturally bountiful and harmonious.

4/6

Create Player Race: Humanity
Humans. Duh.

3/6

Form Nation: Children of Kyra
The first nation of humanity. Population is completely 100% human as they're the only things alive on Beacon. Kyra made five thousand of them, and when they find each other they'll integrate into a greater whole. It'll take time, but they'll get there. Travel by water will be the main means of their interaction for the foreseeable.

2/6

Create Concept: Shipbuilding
The Children are gifted with an innate sense for the waters of the world and how to create those things that can chart across it. Right now this will be simple things like kayaks and such, but it will grow with the turning of Ages.

1/6

Boon: Children of Kyra
The last part of what Kyra did here is basically building the entire infrastructure complex for each settlement with divine power instead of forcing them to build it themselves. This will give the nascent nation an understanding of how they can survive, and will also allow them to unify a lot faster. I considered an Advance Age action for this, but I thought a Boon was a better fit.

0 AP remaining

[Toxic Mind]

"Bonds and chains are not the same. Chains are forged by the weak to bind the strong to them, shackling their potential, their life. Bonds are mutual strength, and are forged in mutual strength and respect. Without the consent of both, there can be no bond. Such are my packs made stronger." Yara knew that such distinctions were easier for her to make. After all, whether the Wolven knew yet or not, they were bonded to her, and she to them. "Perhaps we are different in form, but not in substance. You may stay in my lands for now." Yara smiles, a toothy grin. "Though I think the sand wryms may not enjoy it so much"

[Razade]

Seeker

The world turns. Turns again, again, and again. Light pulses across it, shining beauty down across every part of its surface, with it coming the hope of renewal and rebirth, with each cycle the life within change in places and ways so tiny as to be insignificant. Or so it would be, if such tiny things were not the seeds of greater change. Such is has it been, such is it, such it shall always be. The cycles rumble on, uncaring for the world around them. And something stirs. A spark lifts a tiny hand towards the light, reaching in to seek the endless spread of power hiding within.

Flame kindles in the night, driving back fear. Light spreads from the terminator line to echo out across the void. Sunbeams shade through cloud and mist to dance upon the fluttering petals of wakening flowers. And the hand reaches deeper, faith in something greater than itself leading it towards the things that will define it. Beauty? No...there is beauty in the light, but that isn't it. The world spins another turn as the spark contemplates the dilemma. Not beauty, not wonder, not light in all of its flavours, but a particular band of shades within which lies...what?

Golden light on fields of green, above the blue of water, through mist in splendour as the sun rises to wake the world around it from its fearful slumber. Not all fear the night, no - but many shall and many do in turn. Something stirs in hearts as that light descends upon them, something that is drawn from the beauty of its passing but is not wonder. An emotional presence that can break through a reality of sadness and shatter bonds of fear, will not die unless surrendered and that nothing but death will stop.

Hope.

The spark realises itself. And its hand tears loose a strand of infinity.

The Skies

The presence of the spark is felt soon after, as clouds begin to arrange themselves around the newly coming dawn. The sky begins to change, black turning to a deep purple with gold at its heart as the first rays of light graze the edge of the night. Wind dances through grass and treetops, a few rogue leaves turning in its hold as they fall. More clouds move, one at a time as if dragged painstakingly across the sky by some invisible power and then placed to frame the coming sunlight. And whilst the last clouds is 'dropped' just before the first rays of light, it is somehow all in place when it lances across the lightening sky to illuminate a scene that a painter would happily die for. Gold fills the sky, mist around the mountains in the distance splitting the light into sheets of radiance. Yet that isn't the real magic. Look closely, closer still. That land and mountains and trees aren't real. Well, weren't real. The light touches them, gold sparking as it touches what it recognises as fake. Then the sliver of the sun clear of the mountains flashes with blinding power, and all below it is.

Where once there was only ocean and what seemed to be life, an island formed. It was a small island, but to the spark that was the point. Not far from the coast of a great mass of land, filled with life, yet far enough to be alone here. Easily tended to by itself for the Dawn, not a vast sprawl that would need many. She had little time to focus on it, for the next dawn called her, but there was time enough to see a few more things done. Power crackled inside her, the Dawn bringing a renewal of all the effort she had had to pour into arranging it, and she looked down at the place she had called into being. It was a good start, beautiful in the light, and yet it was missing something...

Of course.

Hope was something of life, something that only living things could find. She felt the energy within her soul, pulling from the strand of infinity encased within it, and knew that there was enough to see this through. So for this place, this Beacon to be real, it must be more than just a place of beauty and bounty. But what to make? The spark looked at itself, and found that it had been changed. No longer a spark of light, now a thing possessed of a body and strange bendy things. Yet it made sense in a way, because those she had to make wouldn't be like her. Maybe it was a sign.

She raised one of the bendy things - she was pretty sure it was called an arm - and power flooded down onto the shoreline. Light filled the air, rings and ribbons spreading into the sand and pulling it upwards. Something like her, she thought. Something with this body, with...limbs, but most importantly with a wellspring of hope deep inside their souls. She was sure they would work out how to realise it by themselves, and if they didn't...well she would be able to help. Sometimes hope needs a little confidence, doesn't it. The sand grew and grew, far taller than she - for the world was far taller and these children would not have a strand of infinity within them as she did. A hundred, two, four. Five hundred shapes in the sand, of all sizes. Would that be enough? Not quite. More power flashed out from the spark, landing on nine other beaches around this one. That would have to be. There was little time left. The ribbons of gold concentrated around the statues of sand, her...it was called a hand, right? cupping further power and sending it streaming down.

Sand changed to flesh, power changed to blood, the transmutation took only brief seconds, yet something was still missing. Oh, she was stupid. Life needed souls. Easy enough.

And so Kyra, Child of Dawn, tore five thousand pieces from her own soul, each part holding a tiny fragment of the strand inside it. They poured into the statues of flesh and blood, each fragment settling in their hearts and sparking bodies to life. Eyes jerked open, breaths gasped in, the act of Creation coming in an instant along with all that their Mother needed them know. They would find the vital need of food easy to satisfy here, for it was in abundance and easy to find. Yet the best would be harder, and gentle nudges lead the way towards them as they coughed and blinked into being. Many ran to the stream nearby to drink and rinse their mouths of the taste of sand.

Yet many did not, eyes fixed upon the glowing star hanging before them. A figure like them formed, a girl of golden skin and caramel hair, clad in garments of sunrise mist. She smiled at them, but it wasn't a child's smile, and then light arced across the sky from where she flew.

My name is Kyra, Child of Dawn. Within each of you beats a shard of my own being, and so even without me here you shall never be alone. I cannot be the Mother I would wish to be, for I have so little time between the setting of the Dawns, but I will give you all in the time I can rest from that Duty. This island is yours, it shall be your home. The waters are rich, as are the forests, within them you shall find all you might ever need.

The child was beginning to shrink, only echoes of the dawn holding her size, and she seemed to realise that even as the ten ribbons of light completed their Creations. Villages, kayaks, the simplest of tools. Not much it might be, but surely enough. Again, it would have to be.

All you need is before, behind, and most importantly within you. There are other settlement of you, they will be your friends. And together...you will change the world.

The child shrunk further, four wings of golden light burst from back, and then she was gone in flash towards the west.

If I'm not mistaken, 6 to start with because rollover as we started on Saturday.

Shape Sanctum: Beacon
An island about the size of Britain off the coast of the Hunting Fields. Its only real magical traits at this point are that it's supernaturally bountiful and harmonious.

4/6

Create Player Race: Humanity
Humans. Duh.

3/6

Form Nation: Children of Kyra
The first nation of humanity. Population is completely 100% human as they're the only things alive on Beacon. Kyra made five thousand of them, and when they find each other they'll integrate into a greater whole. It'll take time, but they'll get there. Travel by water will be the main means of their interaction for the foreseeable.

2/6

Create Concept: Shipbuilding
The Children are gifted with an innate sense for the waters of the world and how to create those things that can chart across it. Right now this will be simple things like kayaks and such, but it will grow with the turning of Ages.

1/6

Boon: Children of Kyra
The last part of what Kyra did here is basically building the entire infrastructure complex for each settlement with divine power instead of forcing them to build it themselves. This will give the nascent nation an understanding of how they can survive, and will also allow them to unify a lot faster. I considered an Advance Age action for this, but I thought a Boon was a better fit.

0 AP remaining

Yet more of his Messengers returned, aided by the great leviathans of the sky and sea and what returned troubled Yen'Hi. It was not enough, it seemed, that the planet turned with the aid of light but now an island formed across the ocean in proclamation of the coming day. It called forth to the depths around its own Midnight Island and a pod of Storytellers rose from the storm wracked surface of the waves. For before, Yen'Hi much like its own children was to small to travel the world but with the aid of its children much like the stories it watched over it could travel great distances. And so it was for the first time since the birth of the World Yen'Hi left the Midnight Island and raced towards the Island of Dawn.

[mystic1110]

And thus came to pass that Night traveled to Day.

It was hard for Jukovak to take sides. On one hand (and at this the god reached out from wherever he was and clenched an open flame with his left hand) the sun, and its dawn, was what parted the darkness and thus allowed the worthy to seek the shadows. For without the sun there were no shadows. And on the other hand (and at this the god reached out with his right hand and grabbed the shadows which existed between the rays of light which now extended from his left hand) the night was were the revel truly was. However, Jukovak frowned (For the first time let it be known! And he released his hand, for it was burned and blackened, oozing puss) for the two gods of Midnight and Dawn were like reflections of one another - and as the god of reflections it fell to him to adjudicate the coming confrontation. Do not let his demeanor fool you.

He was going to enjoy this.

And so he walked beneath the ocean, or sort of, walking with his legs striding on the surface of the water his head pointing down. Actually he didn't walk. He ran. He ran beneath the Night. As Yen'Hi flew across the water, if he looked down, he would have seen songbirds and countless snakes beneath the waves instead of his own visage. He would have also seen a man, upside down of course, dressed in what appeared to be various animal pelts - each of them aged so long as to be gray. These were, of course, Jukovak's formal clothes (for now). And, to the self-appointed Arbiter between light and dark this meeting was, as it were, a formal occasion.

[Razade]

If Yen'Hi knew of the reflection's change it did not speak of it, for stories had their place and time to be told and miles above the waves was not the place for a first time meeting. The Storytellers moved swiftly, unimpeded by wind or wave and thus came shortly to the shores of Beacon. Never before and never after would so many of their kind come together in a single place for Yen'Hi had summoned all its children from every corner of the world to this one spot until the sky was black with the bodies of Storyteller and Messenger alike. With a resounding call the great Library Beasts sang forth, a song as old as time itself of when night and day were but mere dreams in a slumbering gods mind. They sang songs of the coming of magic and the great forests of mushrooms in the sky and they sang the songs of glory for all the Little Gods yet no song for Yen'Hi for it was present and could sing its own should it choose. It was a peculiar thing, not having the shape of the other Gods, lacking arms or legs or mouth and so Yen'Hi took form in attempts to appear as one with the Gods born not from the darkness before creation but the light of it. Glowing mosses and flowers grew from its back and its form was hunched as if an elder and from the depths of a cowl made from the woven bark of trees two great yellow lanterns burned brightly. Still it did not speak, the inhabitants of the island below it were not its masters and it did not wish to speak out of place for never let it be said that Yen'Hi did not understand the rules of hospitality.

[squidpope]

"Bonds and chains are not the same. Chains are forged by the weak to bind the strong to them, shackling their potential, their life. Bonds are mutual strength, and are forged in mutual strength and respect. Without the consent of both, there can be no bond. Such are my packs made stronger." Yara knew that such distinctions were easier for her to make. After all, whether the Wolven knew yet or not, they were bonded to her, and she to them. "Perhaps we are different in form, but not in substance. You may stay in my lands for now." Yara smiles, a toothy grin. "Though I think the sand wryms may not enjoy it so much"


Rizzit ignored the last comment. "I do not recall asking for your permission, though I will accept the hospitality. As for the differences between bonds and chains, I feel as though they are all a matter of perception."

A low, bellowing noise was made, and above them a black mass of books flew, weaving in and out of the flying leviathan that moved in such a peculiar and graceful way. Again, the huge beast let out a moan as it twisted forward and out of view.

"Strange. I have never seen that mirage before. Do you think somethings happened to the light?"

[Robert Blackletter]

Colledig hid and watched, as was his want. He saw the gods talk and hundreds of new creations, the beauty of mystling, the friendly mushroom people, the wolven and others. Each had their own secrets, most only important to themselves and now Colledig. He soon discovered that with the right whisper he could control event. In one village of the wolven he let the chief know he was being cookald, starting a battle that changed leadership, he showed one squirrel another hoard, he showed the hidding places of rabbits to wolves.

He knew more and more, found out more but their was always more. How could he get it all? Then he remembered the messengers and the mystling! Yes he make his own spy, like him they shall hide in the shadow, No, they be the shadow, watch the world and return, report the little secrets. Yes. But report where? First I need a home. Flying west he went over the sea, within sight of the hunting fields but far enough to ensure privacy. HE draw out of the sea a large island, covered in untrackable forest, and in the centre a castle, the inside of which was much bigger than the outside. A place you would get lost within unless you knew where your going.

Now he needed helpers, Colledig took his shadow, and put a piece of his own heart inside inside to give it life and spoke to Him his mission. Go forth, make others, feed, Discover the little secret that are my birth right, avoid the massager for now, report back here to the trackless isle.

Soon The world had shadow in all the little corners discover secrets, reporting back to the Isle.

A few of the Shadowkin took a more direct hand, creating secrets. They would seek the weak of each race, than they would tempt them towards small crimes, than bigger crimes all for better control at a later date, though they were always careful not to reveal themselves. They were dislike by the majority of shadowkin, but Colledig refuse to condemn them so they were allowed to continue.
Start 6 AP
Create Sanctum: The trackless Isle: A forest covered island about the size of Ireland, The forest is almost impossible to path find in, any mark made on trees disappears, tracks spring back, theire a sent that prevent sent etc. In the centre is a castle where the shadow reside when not out in the world 2AP
Create life: Mythological Creatures Shadowkin: Basically intellgent shadows, they feed off energy given off by emotions, the stronger the better, this process dose not harm. They can turn a small amount physical matter into shadow if need. 1 AP
Create Cult: The tempters: roughly 5% of shadow seek out the weak will and tempt them to commit crimes. They usually start small, stealing a little extra food, a white lie and slowly increase crime until the victim has a mass of secret crimes under his belt. 1AP
Create concept: Crime 1AP (my logic Crimmal need to keep their crimes sercret to avoid punishment)
1 Ap LEFT

[mystic1110]

In the garb of gray leather, Jukovak stepped out of the ocean. A strange sight since he was walking upside down in the waves, and so he walked upside down on the ground. His feet in the air the Arbiter of Dawn and Midnight calmly followed behind the other god. But the god of revels does not take easily to solemnity. Oh sure, the cults and orgies of the stories that are to come will have their mysteries. They will have their silent rituals. But they will be intense rituals - silences so electric that the silent would wish to scream to be free of it. Those are his silences. Silence dressed in the garments of the occult, the ostentatious, the other worldly.

And so as the God of Darkness awaited the pleasure of his reflection, the other reflection - that is Jukovak - crafted a suitable meeting place. On the corner of Beacon where Night touched, Jukovak walked upside down and urinated all over himself. Where his urine touched the land became fallow and malleable. Jukovak then erected a grove of trees. The bark was made of dusk - for if dawn was reflected it was not night - the leaves were made of truth. Because hope looked in the mirror was not despair, it was simply reality striped bare of all fables of all stories. Jukovak thought it was a nice touch, for it also reflected what Yen'hi was not. Trees of dusk with truth written in the leaves.

As he worked, the God of Revels slowly flipped around, right side up. So when he pruned one tree he was upside down, another he was horizontal. Until finally he stood before Yen'hi. He was sweaty and stained - and covered in urine - with the widest grin there could be. He winked a knowing grin, although he knew nothing.

Welcome Brother to the Garden of Fact. I look forward to your conversation here.

AP 1 + Rollover 3

Divine Combat 1 AP
So this is a little tricky. . . Inside Sanctums, no person may use AP without the other god's permission. So to get around that I engaged Kyra in divine Combat. Divine combat is largely reactive. One god spends AP. Says what happens. The other god may spend an equal amount of AP to undo the effects, or spend more AP to do whatever they want. And so on. So I spent 1 AP to basically harm the Sanctum (by peeing on it - i know jukovak is mature) and thus be able to spend AP on the sanctum. The downside of this is - whatever I create due to this "divine combat" can all be undone with only 1 AP by Kyra as more "divine combat"

Alter Land 1 AP : Garden of Fact. A very small garden where the trees are made of dusk and the leaves are made of Fact. Even I don't know what that means - so I leave it all to you to figure out.

AP 2

[bryn0528]

"What was that?" said one Mycon in the belly-depths of its cetacean home. "How am I supposed to know! What did you eat?" replied the other. Together, and in small packs, Mycon slipped between the humming teeth of the Storytellers. Yen'Hi often overlooked the fact of their role as his libraries' curators, apart of course from his Messengers, whom were often viewed as poor conversationalists, ironically, and had omitted to inform their lord of certain key new tenants (and thus Yen'Hi, master of most things knowable, would encounter something unknown). Or maybe such an omission was intentional because, hey, at the end of the day it was a win for everybody; a few Mycons got a home to live in, and the Messengers got a little time off, in exchange, to... what? Bask in the sun on some rocky beach? Who's to know what magical flying scrolls want, save for flying magical scrolls.

Although the unexpected sight of clumsy, sentient mushrooms spilling from the open mouths of flying wooden whales was perhaps not the most graceful of introductions, as some fell quite a distance and burst into nothing more than (mostly) harmless clouds of spores. Lucky, that most, with their slightly spongy bodies, fell without much harm or humor. Most of the Mycons remained aboard their chosen vessels, sighing and groaning at their less fortunate bretheren. They turned back into the dark bellies of the Storytellers, amongst the shelves are aeries, and would not be bothered for the rest of the eventual meeting of Dawn and Midnight, no matter how miraculous it turned out to be.

The Mycons who fell upon Beacon, stranded for the time (not an entirely undesirable fate, honestly), came to gather in their numbers. Say, fewer than a dozen score, drawn together by the memory of familiarity. They bickered and squaked amongst themselves for a time, and eventually arrived at the decision that they had no sopping clue what to do next.

[Razade]

In the garb of gray leather, Jukovak stepped out of the ocean. A strange sight since he was walking upside down in the waves, and so he walked upside down on the ground. His feet in the air the Arbiter of Dawn and Midnight calmly followed behind the other god. But the god of revels does not take easily to solemnity. Oh sure, the cults and orgies of the stories that are to come will have their mysteries. They will have their silent rituals. But they will be intense rituals - silences so electric that the silent would wish to scream to be free of it. Those are his silences. Silence dressed in the garments of the occult, the ostentatious, the other worldly.

And so as the God of Darkness awaited the pleasure of his reflection, the other reflection - that is Jukovak - crafted a suitable meeting place. On the corner of Beacon where Night touched, Jukovak walked upside down and urinated all over himself. Where his urine touched the land became fallow and malleable. Jukovak then erected a grove of trees. The bark was made of dusk - for if dawn was reflected it was not night - the leaves were made of truth. Because hope looked in the mirror was not despair, it was simply reality striped bare of all fables of all stories. Jukovak thought it was a nice touch, for it also reflected what Yen'hi was not. Trees of dusk with truth written in the leaves.

As he worked, the God of Revels slowly flipped around, right side up. So when he pruned one tree he was upside down, another he was horizontal. Until finally he stood before Yen'hi. He was sweaty and stained - and covered in urine - with the widest grin there could be. He winked a knowing grin, although he knew nothing.

Welcome Brother to the Garden of Fact. I look forward to your conversation here.

AP 1 + Rollover 3

Divine Combat 1 AP
So this is a little tricky. . . Inside Sanctums, no person may use AP without the other god's permission. So to get around that I engaged Kyra in divine Combat. Divine combat is largely reactive. One god spends AP. Says what happens. The other god may spend an equal amount of AP to undo the effects, or spend more AP to do whatever they want. And so on. So I spent 1 AP to basically harm the Sanctum (by peeing on it - i know jukovak is mature) and thus be able to spend AP on the sanctum. The downside of this is - whatever I create due to this "divine combat" can all be undone with only 1 AP by Kyra as more "divine combat"

Alter Land 1 AP : Garden of Fact. A very small garden where the trees are made of dusk and the leaves are made of Fact. Even I don't know what that means - so I leave it all to you to figure out.

AP 2



"I will remember it's name." Yen'Hi entoned, not seeming to mind or spot the mushrooms that fell from the mouth of it's beasts, after all one is free to use a library when and where they need. "It is not you who I come to speak with. Where is the Dawn and the Sunlight?"

[Lizard Lord]

True to his word the seed Ratameeko planted did indeed grow. As it grew light was formed and began to push against the darkness. Perhaps it was this light that had somehow helped the tree even faster and larger, as even Ratameeko seemed surprised by its progress.

Whatever the cause, In a short matter of time it grew into a massive tree taller even than any other tree. Though none of the nation forest and yet seen such things it was taller than even the glass pillar of the desert or the leviathans of the sky. It grew to be the tallest thing in the land. As the tree grew it had already had holes in its trunk and tunnels underneath its roots. Going inside revealed that the tree was hallow with nests and perches and slopes (for those that could not fly or climb) reaching all the way to the top of the trunk. Even the tunnels seemed to somehow lead inside of the tree.


Ratameeko turned to his people and spoke. "This shall be our home from now on. It shall give you shelter from the predators and serves as a place to keep your horde. Remember to take what you can and horde as much as possible. You never what could happen and we need to store up for whatever that may be.

For now I must be off, as I must investigate this conflict between light and darkness."

With that the nation of the forest stepped inside the tree as Ratameeko looked about. He sniffed the air and far off he could smell other like him far off and in different directions. In one direction, however, was a predator dangerous enough that it terrified him (not that the King would say this out loud). He would not be going that way.

Instead Ratameeko twitched his ears in the other directions. In one of those directions he heard what he believed would be clues to his quest.

So the King of the Greatest animals ran faster than of his subjects and when he reached the ocean he swam just as quickly.

At last he arrived at Beacon and for the first time saw the other gods.

...Why was it that they looked nothing like him? No accounting for fashion one supposes.

Anyways he would just watch and listen for now.

2+3 (rollover)-1=4 AP

Create Sanctum: The World Tree

[Toxic Mind]

Yara ignores the implied insult, for now. If she were not divine, if she were a beast, one of them would not have left the dunes alive. After all, to invade the territory of one predator was tantamount to an act of war. But Yara knew that not all the gods understood this, not all were connected to the beasts as she was. But someday, someday soon, Rizzit would pay for his intransigence. For Yara was Alpha, and an alpha does not suffer insults long. She looks to the sky. "Not a mirage. Something worth following."

As divine, Yara was more than capable of ascending into ice crystals in the sky, and following the books and storytellers in a frozen mist. But such was not her way. She did not change forms. But she would evolve. A pair of wings, massive in size, scaly and razor sharp at the tips, sprout from her back between her shoulder blades. "Follow if you wish. Oh, and do ask before you enter my forests. It is one thing to claim territory far from mine, but to enter my domain without announcing yourself... it would end poorly."

With a single beat of her wings, Yara takes to the sky, and with a sound like a thunderclap, is off following the trail of flying scrolls towards the Island of Dawn. Even now, Yara's third eye could see the corona of energy, a second sun, on the horizon. She would see her kin, see who was predator, and who was prey.

Yara could smell fear.

[squidpope]

"WELL GOODBYE THEN!" Rizzit shouted at the now distant figure of Yara, his voice playfully indignant. "I don't suppose I could have asked her to let me ride on her back. bet she would love that." The god chuckled to himself and with one swift movement, heaved his chains off the ground and skittered around to the side of the Glass Spire.

"Now lets see..." He muttered hustling around the crystal to view all angles of the earth from its jagged surface, looking for some object of interest that could have commanded the attention of so very many creatures. "Mushroom people? no, no... A Great tree... perhaps, but I can't help feeling... AHH!" The god spoke, finally glimpsing the congregation of divinity that was forming on the island far away. "I do so hope that I am not going to miss anything important." He said, crestfallen that he would not be able to go meet the others... or could he? With a sudden burst of energy, He ran around to the other side of the spire, and taking his hands and splitting a large rod of crystal off at a curious angle. Returning to his previous spot, he smile.

At The Gathering Of Gods:

A image appeared, flickering at first and then growing steadily more solid. Rizzit could not come to the meeting, no, for he was bound to the desert by until he or it ceased to exist. He could however, send his image there. "Excuse me," The mirage spoke softly "can you hear me?"

[Lizard Lord]

A smell caught Ratameeko's attention. The terror that he had smelled far away earlier was approaching. He wanted to run but he promised his people that would learn of the mystery of the light. For all his flaws he did not want to disappoint them.

Besides he could sense that this island was like the World Tree. The only way to use any real power here was to either own the island or to directly challenge the owner. Of course if the terrifying one is the owner then he would have to run. He could feel in his bones that if only one god in the world could only kill one other god in the world, this one could kill him.

[bryn0528]

For those abandoned Mycons in the land of Beacon, what happened exactly is entirely obscured by the annuls of time. Some credit divine intervention for the patch of gaseous fungus which spontaneously grew before the bemused Mycons, and others said that the sudden mixture of many kinds of various spores was bound to have some illicit effect, especially in the presence of so many godlings. Whatever may have actually occured led to the eventual and following meeting, somewhere beneath Yara's dark canopy, where for whatever reason, she allowed Mycon and fungus alike to thrive on the deaths of animal and tree alike:

"Those humans just think they're so much better than us! Did you see how smug they all were?"
"I'm still not personally convinced that they weren't just some weird, hairless variety of Wolven--" here, everyone looked over their shoulders, for it was generally considered to be an invitation for one of them to pop out of nowhere should one mention them by name.

Hundreds of Mycon attended this first meeting, the largest gathering of their kind, ever. And not just those who touched the soils of Beacon for just a moment (though they were given special preference for this meeting, it being their ideas and all), but several of their kind, invited just for the occassion. They sat in rings, on rotten logs and tree stumps, and the more nimble of their kind claimed the overhanging branches of this particular glen. Some were bright colors and awkward shapes, others had with them a more humble appearance. They spoke with voices, and glowing lights, and funny smells upon the air.

"They were so organized! Cooperative and together, all of them. Not even the Wolven--" again, they all checked over their shoulders (or equivalent thereof), "could raise an army against Kyra's own, for they are each too selfish and not inclined to agree!" There was several seconds of chattering before another voice rose to fill the space.
"And you saw those funny sticks they used to ride upon the ocean waves! Who would think to ever travel like that?" Several voices consented here.
"They'll take over the world before you even see it coming! They'll make even bigger sticks and then what? Even more, I'm sure of it!" Several voices rang with worry, and agreement, and a rising sense of panic.
"We should build our own sticks! That'll show them! And when they come for us, our sticks will be even bigger!" The space exploded with cheers and sudden activity. Mycons scurried about, talking in loud voices and directing their kind. Several fallen branches were gathered and assembled into a rudementary pile. It shivered once, gave a great belch, and fell in upon itself.

"It's no use! We've no idea how to build sticks!" A chorus of worry and dismay came from the gathered fungusfolk. "Try again, says I!" cried a voice. "Of course we haven't on our first try! What kind of sticks were we trying to make anyway?"
"A house!"
"No no, stupid woman, we agreed on a horse."
"That wasn't it at all? Who makes a horse out of sticks? We were trying to make a big stick."
"Those are called trees you sopping idiot."
"Slander and blasphemy! Take that back you cur!"
"Quit pushing"
"Nu-uh! Your mother's fat and slimy!"

Although the later histories tend to omit this fact, it is generally understood at this point in time there was something of.... an altercation. Nevertheless, everyone eventually settled down (mostly) and some order was to be had (kinda). And so included the first Official Meeting of the Wayward Guild. A small and overlooked mushroom merely bows its head and sighs deeply.

I know I promised later, but what fun is that?
AP SPENT: 3. TOTAL AP REMAINING: 0.
(Form Organization, the Wayward Guild.) -1
(Age Advance: to Bronze Age) -1
(Create concept, carpentry) -1

So to rehash, Mycons are now guided. In time, their Guild Wayhouses will spread to other nations for the benefit of both parties, but for now they are simply contained. They are focused on making things out of wood, which they are surprisingly good at, once they get the general hang of things.

[Razade]

Yen'Hi regarded the other Gods about it as they slowly came to where it and it's children waited. None where the Dawn or the Light it sought but the writings back at the Midnight Island would remember. When Yen'Hi moved, the Gods of the world followed.

[Snowfire]

Sanctums are strange things, aren't they. Almost little Gods in themselves for their power, for they can do seamlessly what no God can. For Jukovak did indeed raise a garden of his own making from reflections, did indeed seek to strike at Kyra in the most inappropriate of ways. Yet the Power behind those actions, needed to make them more than phantoms of possibility, was refused. Beacon was made as a home, yet also as a shelter, and the protections it granted to its maker and her Children were by very nature designed to deny any attempt by another divine to change it. For hope does not change. And in this place its power was the rule.

Motes of gold floated into being all across the so called Garden of Fact as Beacon examined its new acquisition. Fact and dusk...well they were useful things, but the Children had no need of a Garden built of such things. Fact was known, for all that it was often ignored in the pursuit of creation, and dusk? Well what was a dusk but an inverted Dawn and the last touch of light before their Mother would return to them - if only for a short while. No need for that, but better to deal with all at once.

Next motes sprang up around the Mycons who fell from the Storytellers, they would turn to those that carried them next. They examined their essence, making one or two sneeze as they drifted close, and confirmed what had been thought before. These were not Maker's Children, therefore Beacon was not theirs. More of the same golden sparks swirled around Storyteller and Messenger alike, and the same conclusion was reached.

But that didn't mean it had to be rude about things, no matter the table manners of its guests.

Golden radiance wrapped the Garden of Fact in the gentle light of a coming dawn, all the motes released in curiosity sweeping down around it in tides of gold. Fact dissolved beneath waves of Hope, the soiled ground brightening and rebuilding itself with carpets of grass and flowers. Yet Dusk, in its own way, was allowed to remain. Not by Beacon, but by the beliefs of its Maker's Children. Dusk was Dawn, only in reverse. It considered that for a short moment, then decided that Maker's Children were probably more correct. They have a piece of Maker inside them, you must remember.

So instead of total reshaping, only part of the Bark was changed. It now went from Dusk to Dawn and back again in the spread of its colour, one beautiful gradient of concept. The leaves though...they were remade, for whilst Truth could strip away Hope so too could Hope deny Truth its place. Yet what led to both? It was hard to find, but the word came in the end. A grove with trees fashioned of Day-to-Night, with leaves of Resolve. More fitting indeed. Now for the mortals.

The motes flashed as they completed their work, and then the solid mass of light given form scattered across Beacon in a vast pulse, spreading in every direction to remove all but the Maker's Children and Her sibs. The Mycons flickered away, motes carrying them from shore to shore with what they had seen. And the Messengers and Storytellers were pushed - but gently, gently! - to the edge of Beacon's presence. Revealed now, the Gods could see the sphere of ethereal golden motes that held a barrier around the island. Mortals could not, it was beyond their sight for the now, but to Gods it was easily seen by even the dullest eyed.

And it was good that their attention was drawn there, for as they watched the motes rearranged themselves, forming words in the air that only they could see.


If you seek our Maker, follow the Dawn and you shall find her. Or wait, and at the coming day she will be here again.

[Toxic Mind]

Yara arrived just after the wave of light had pushed the creatures back. She lands on the island, and her fur ripples once, then a forest pattern shifts across it. Though it is not camouflage, for this is the pattern of a different forest. Still, Yara's form is obscured somewhat. It is more difficult to focus on her than it would be otherwise.

She looks at the other gods, huffs once in faux-boredom, and lays down. But Yara is not bored, far from it. For something of supreme interest is here, and it has nothing to do with the dawn and the dusk.

Yara watches.

[Razade]

Yen'hi watched the expanse of light, what it did was of no concern to it or its children. It appeared much like the Gods of this land that hospitality was not in the purview of their concerns and ever much like the light sought not to illuminate and aid the spread of knowledge but horde it behind its impenetrable brilliance. But let it not be said that despite such things that Yen'Hi or its children had tried to break the Island Sanctum for that would be a misreading of the tale that would be told. Nor should it be said that Yen'Hi had come for war, as so many might mistake its actions while leaving its Island. The designs of a God are inscrutable after all. And so upon the tongue of its children did Yen'Hi wait.

[mystic1110]

The piss and sweat covered god looked as the light remade his Garden of Truth. It's not like he was that particularly fond of it. He made simply as a reflection of the meeting that was about to happen. If anything this was a pleasing limitation - he shrugged his shoulders - or contorted them - it was unusual how his human form worked (after all just beneath the surface he was only a swarm of birds and snakes).

The self-appointed arbiter looked at the gathering gods and goddesses. And smiled. He was ever the showman, and this. . . this was a stage.

Welcome brothers and sisters! Welcome to . . . I actually don't know what this garden should be called anymore. But welcome nonetheless. I am the mediator of twilight! We are here because . . . well . . . two very interesting people are about to have a conversation and we all want front row seats.

There really wasn't any point to his speech, except to invite attention. They had time to waste, and the God of Revels is easily bored.

[squidpope]

The piss and sweat covered god looked as the light remade his Garden of Truth. It's not like he was that particularly fond of it. He made simply as a reflection of the meeting that was about to happen. If anything this was a pleasing limitation - he shrugged his shoulders - or contorted them - it was unusual how his human form worked (after all just beneath the surface he was only a swarm of birds and snakes).

The self-appointed arbiter looked at the gathering gods and goddesses. And smiled. He was ever the showman, and this. . . this was a stage.

Welcome brothers and sisters! Welcome to . . . I actually don't know what this garden should be called anymore. But welcome nonetheless. I am the mediator of twilight! We are here because . . . well . . . two very interesting people are about to have a conversation and we all want front row seats.

There really wasn't any point to his speech, except to invite attention. They had time to waste, and the God of Revels is easily bored.

"Oh, good" Rizzit said, happy that he could hear what was happening. He was not entirely sure how that worked, but he would contemplate it later. "I'm glad you clarified, as I was entirely unsure of what was happening, save for that it seemed very interesting. You are like me and the frost-fanged, yes?"

[Lizard Lord]

Ratameeko stood stiff, as if he were paralyzed, and the other gods faded from his mind until he could only notice one besides himself. The predator had arrived. Ratameeko now knew this was not the predator's island. Something had else had just reshaped it. This meant Ratameeko would be safe from it here, but if he left the predator would be sure to follow.

The other gods and surroundings than found thier way back into his mind. Prey can be patient in their hiding, but predators can be just as patient in their hunt. He would need to be clever to escape this and it is possible the other gods could be allies both now and in the future.


Ratameeko was certain that the chained one was not really there. He said he was like the others yet he had no scent at all and the only sound came from his voice.

"Y-yes." Ratameeko stammered and glanced at the predator from the corner of his eye before looking back at the illusion. "And n-no. We are all d-different. M-maybe we s-should introduce ourselves w-while we wait? I am Rata-Ratameeko."

He cursed himself as he was quite visibly shaking. It would seem he cannot muster a show of confidence in the predator's presence. Still he must press on.

[Toxic Mind]

Yara yawns in seeming laziness, showing rows of razor sharp teeth and massive canines. She rises from her false slumber stretching. "I am Yara, named as Frost Fanged. The Hunting Grounds are my lands, though some have seen fit to live on them." She raises one eyebrow, or rather the fur marking indicating an eyebrow, at both Ratameeko and Rizzit, and their is indulgent long-suffering in her voice, as if she had long ago decided that it wasn't worth the trouble to expel these others, and she suffered them willingly, no matter the truth.

Yara's nostrils flare as she tastes the scents on the air, memorizing each in turn, so that she would never confuse them for anything but what they were. She wondered how the other gods stood it. The clearing was heavy with the stench of urine, of sweat, but most of all, of fear. It hung over the clearing like a shroud, and Yara was hard pressed not to react. Fear is the aphrodisiac of the Predator, it called to her and she longed to see it to its natural end, to chase the one who feared until it could run no more, and to spill his life across whatever earth it ran to. Ratameeko. Yara would remember that name, that scent. It was fascinating. Intoxicating.

Yara feigns boredom, and lays down again. But there is no relaxation. She is alert.

Yara waits.

[mystic1110]

Jukovak looks at the mirage, and cracks a smile. Even though he smiled often he wasn't used to it. Maintaining one shape was hard for the God. Oh how he yearned to be all the many things he could be. To see from a thousand eyes. To see himself watching himself watching him. And on and on.

Sort of. We are brothers. And we are siblings with our dear sister. But, we are also who we are. Everything is the same. That's why we dance to make ourselves different and in dancing we too are the same, so we stop to be different, and then, again, we are the same. Am I making sense?

The God then looked over at his sister whom he had hunted with, and watched her - felt her - lust for blood. He looked at her chosen prey, another brother of his and wondered how beautiful god's blood must look.

[Snowfire]

Time passed. The humans of Beacon, untouched by the presence of Gods and mythical beings upon their home, finished their works for the day. Kayaks and rafts returned to the shore and were dragged up above the tide line, their simple nets well stocked with fish for the evening's meal. Fires were kindled, sparks of light flickering to life in ten places across the island, glowing in miniature examples of their home's name. Food was roasted, cooked, eaten, and all of the Children of Kyra ate well. And then the night closed in past the dusk, cloaking the world in darkness, and all but a few of the lights around the settlements snuffed out as the mortals fell to sleep through the night. They would wake at the purpling of the sky.

A whole turn of the world, dancing between clouds and mist and winds and arranging them all alongside the presence of nature below where it existed. Keeping up with it all was hard, only a few minutes between each Dawn to arrange things, and no way to make her break longer. Running ahead couldn't help, for the Dawn moved at its own pace, yet if she waited too long...it would all go wrong.

She had felt the presence of other things above and on Beacon, Powers come to the place for reasons that she did not yet know. And yet, she could not - would not - go to them and leave her duty. The Dawn was her trial, her canvass and the beauty which she ushered into being yet did not cause. And it was also her renewal, for each shining day that she was midwife to her strength was returned. A hard life, she could see that it would be seen that way by others less bound to a duty, yet it was one she had accepted when still a spark. She could no more reject it than one of her children could stop breathing, for it was part of her very essence. And so a life of dedication was a joy. Nothing less.

When she returned to her blessed isle, at first she did not - could not - pay attention to her guests, for her first duty still was to the Dawn. Yet, knowing that she was putting on a show, she worked faster and with more passion than ever before. The clouds fluffed in the wind, faint ribbons of their wispier cousins wrapped across the sky to frame the rays of the coming sun. The black turned purple as the light grew, and her Children rose from their slumber to greet the new day. Mist framed the mountains at the heart of the island, turning them a blazing gold as the first rays slanted out of the east. It was a sunrise, and a Dawn, without compare, aided by the power of Beacon itself. Hope would flourish here, that was certain.

Yet only once this was done did she allow herself to turn to her guests, her wings of dawnlight carrying her swiftly to where they waited, until she alighted within the Garden that Beacon told her the one who was trying to be too many things at once had tried to create. Her clothes shone like burnished gold, all the brighter for the morning, and with the dawn her form had grown in stature. So it was a young woman with wings of golden light, clad all in clothes of the same shining colour, that landed at the Garden of Resolve.

Is my work so disruptive to you all, siblings in power?

Her voice was soft, carrying with it the feeling of a fresh spring day and the warmth of a summer sun.

My name is Kyra, and I am the Child of Dawn. And I am sorry, but I have little time before I must away, for my duty is without end. If you have grievances, please, speak them and I will do all I can to see them set right. I wish no conflict between family.

For reference, Kyra has been alive for a single day at this point. Hence she's more than a little confused by all the people showing up on her turf and the reasons that might have led to such. She also has no idea that Beacon is hedging out other mortal life, and even less that she can make it do that.

[Razade]

Yen'Hi watched the display, one would be hard pressed to extrapolate it's demeanor as it lacked the facial structure to convey such emotions. Though it was the first to arrive the other Gods obviously were there for an audience. It would oblige them.

[Lizard Lord]

"D-dis-disruptive? N-no. Not in m-my case. M-my name is Ratameeko and y-your light helped my favorite tree grow. I w-wanted to see what caused it." Ratameeko was still clearly nervous though he kept his eyes on the child of dawn rather than his nervousness.

"W-would you li-like to go see it? Y-you can fly yes? I'll show you the way if y-you fly us there. P-please?"

[Toxic Mind]

"Oh, there's no need for her to fly you. I can fly. You can come with me." Yara smiles at her own beneficence. "I would very much like to see this tree you have grown in my forest. It sounds positively... delicious." She purrs. Yara watches him as a cat watches a mouse that it knows is trapped. Which was not a completely wrong comparison.

[Lizard Lord]

Ratameeko was frozen for but a few seconds at Yaras request before finally being able to bring himself to respond.


"W-well I w-want the g-goddess of the dawn to see it. Sh-she helped m-make it after all. E-even if she did not kn-know it at th-the time."


Then an idea popped into Ratameeko's head and a small spark of an emotion other than fear had entered him for the first time since Yara arrived. Perhaps it was the island or one the other gods did it without realizing but, dare he hope?


"I-I would, h-however, love it if you came to visit my tree it is a spectacular sight both inside and out. But o-of course I would r-rather wait until the Child of D-dawn can come with us. I can w-wait here until then."

[Kapow]

Matole had spent quite some time in the Hunting Grounds, billowing close to the ground in his fog shape.
He just was about to finish his plan to create this peculiar gift for his brother, when he realised, somone was messing with his spheres.

What? Who dares... Well, at least whoever this did, has taste.

Leaving the animals of the forest behind in the most beautiful morning ever seen, the Dripping Mist once more became a cloud and started to follow the dawn.
And the longer it followed, the more it felt a kindred spirit at work here.
Actually, I wanted to do this - but seeing this, it seems to be an awful lot of work.
And such a beautiful piece of work...

I like it, but I'd like it even more to meet the responsible artist

Finally, it closed in, just above a small land, where... ...well, nearly everybody and everything gathered... ...lots of storytellers, kamikaze-mushrooms and its brother as well, as some other strange people, it felt kinship to.

A fine spray of morning rain started over the deities and a huge rainbow framed the dawning of the sun.
On it, a figure made of mist glided towards the, now pretty wet, gathering.

"Hellooooo everybody!
Brother!", Matole nodded towards Jukovak, "I don't know most of you, but I have the feeling I should. I am Matole, the Dripping Mist and the Rainbow, can anybody tell me who is responsible for this", its arm pointing towards the rising sun, "absolutely stunning beauty?"
Smiling in the round, he added "Uh, sorry if I disturbed something?!"

[squidpope]

"Yara..." Rizzit looked to the huntress, voice sliding down in way both scolding and disappointed, " I will not put a collar on you, but please do restrain yourself. we have just met these people." Rizzit turned to the scared god. "I have seen your tree, and it is quiet a feat of creation. I applaud you. And as for you," Rizzit now turned to Light that was trailing slowly across the sky. "I Apologize for for my unexpected arrival, I only wished to see what was happening here, and I did not mean to intrude on the presence of one so.... radiant." Rizzet bowed low to the dawn bringer. "I am Rizzit, and it is a pleasure to meet you." He turned to the rest of the current company, remembering his place. "All of you."

[mystic1110]

My name is Kyra, and I am the Child of Dawn. And I am sorry, but I have little time before I must away, for my duty is without end. If you have grievances, please, speak them and I will do all I can to see them set right. I wish no conflict between family.

For reference, Kyra has been alive for a single day at this point. Hence she's more than a little confused by all the people showing up on her turf and the reasons that might have led to such. She also has no idea that Beacon is hedging out other mortal life, and even less that she can make it do that.

The God of Revels had enough with his formal form - the skin split apart - and in a cloud of blood and bone out erupted hundreds of cardinals. The cardinals perched on the branches of dawn trees, and fluttered around the leaves of resolve. And they spoke to the goddess.

Sister sister! Welcome home! The night is here to great you and I am to be witness.

The birds shied away from Yara, for like last time, even though a god spoke through them, individually they were just birds only as a whole were they a god. A single bird could, and would, make a lovely snack for the goddess.

But I do have a grievance I want to bring to your attention Sister. No conflict between family? Then why even have a family?! Conflict is entertainment! Conflict is Life!

[Toxic Mind]

"We must be careful not to overstep our boundaries, Chained One." Yara's tone is low and dangerous, though she does not rise from her position. "I asked to see his home and he accepted. This affair is none of yours." Yara eyes the birds, unmoving. When one of the cardinals flys from one branch to another, seemingly above her and out of reach, her tail lashes out, lightning fast, piercing the bird and killing it instantly. She eats it whole, sitting on her haunches. A short crunch of bones and it was done. Yara stays sitting, a Cheshire smile on her face.

[Snowfire]

When the dawn comes to your Tree, Ratameeko. I cannot travel ahead of it, for I will not betray my duty. Yet when Dawn comes, I will be there.

Kyra smiles kindly at Ratameeko, yet her eyes flare slightly as Yara replies to him before her. Her attention is swiftly distracted from the Predator Goddess by the speech of one sib and the arrival of another, yet the memory remains. Her only response to Rizzit is a deep bow, and a flush upon her cheeks. Her one to Matole is...more pronounced. The flush turned a full red upon her cheeks, the young Goddess clearly embarrassed by the compliments from the one who - in no small part - was the reason for her very existence. And when she spoke again, for all that it was in the same voice of spring day and summer sun, it was much quieter.

That...was me, brother. I am very glad you liked it.

Few words, but full of emotion that was easily felt. Few with much, much with few. Perhaps that was part of her. She laughed as Jukovak's birds took their places across the Garden - that Beacon told her was of Resolve - and spoke to her, yet paused for a few moments before offering a reply.

Conflict in some ways, brother. But not all conflict is life, some is death. Yet -

Her left hand rose in a blur as Yara's tail flashed up at one of the cardinals, and the vicious blow bent ever so slightly under a sudden rush of air to miss the startled bird.

Not here, sister. Not in my home.

She turned back to the ring of birds.

The Night wishes to meet? Then to him I will go. I leave your destinations to yourselves, my siblings.

Her wings flared with power, and then she shot upwards and away towards where Yen'Hi waited.

Hello brother.

[Toxic Mind]

"To deny the order of nature is dangerous, sister. It is the nature of prey to be hunted, and the predator to hunt and kill. Nature has a way of righting itself, much to the displeasure of those who upset it in the first place." Yara's eyes, the normal ones, are filled with a quiet anger. It is a simmering displeasure, that does not manifest itself immediately, but boils slowly, and inevitably burns the hotter for it. Yara rises. "I grow bored with this. I believe I shall explore this island. Fear not, brothers and sisters, I will return if it comes to blows." The Cheshire smile was back as Yara turns to Ratameeko. "I'll see you soon then."

[Razade]

When the dawn comes to your Tree, Ratameeko. I cannot travel ahead of it, for I will not betray my duty. Yet when Dawn comes, I will be there.

Kyra smiles kindly at Ratameeko, yet her eyes flare slightly as Yara replies to him before her. Her attention is swiftly distracted from the Predator Goddess by the speech of one sib and the arrival of another, yet the memory remains. Her only response to Rizzit is a deep bow, and a flush upon her cheeks. Her one to Matole is...more pronounced. The flush turned a full red upon her cheeks, the young Goddess clearly embarrassed by the compliments from the one who - in no small part - was the reason for her very existence. And when she spoke again, for all that it was in the same voice of spring day and summer sun, it was much quieter.

That...was me, brother. I am very glad you liked it.

Few words, but full of emotion that was easily felt. Few with much, much with few. Perhaps that was part of her. She laughed as Jukovak's birds took their places across the Garden - that Beacon told her was of Resolve - and spoke to her, yet paused for a few moments before offering a reply.

Conflict in some ways, brother. But not all conflict is life, some is death. Yet -

Her left hand rose in a blur as Yara's tail flashed up at one of the cardinals, and the vicious blow bent ever so slightly under a sudden rush of air to miss the startled bird.

Not here, sister. Not in my home.

She turned back to the ring of birds.

The Night wishes to meet? Then to him I will go. I leave your destinations to yourselves, my siblings.

Her wings flared with power, and then she shot upwards and away towards where Yen'Hi waited.

Hello brother.

Yen'Hi waited partiality in turn as it's "siblings" continued their squabbling and grand standing. It had nothing to share on such interactions as it seemed they had already determined their politics with one another. Perhaps in time it to would find issue to raise with them but it was not here to decree ultimatums to one and all. It continued to wait as the "Dawn" spoke to them in turn as well, it's impassive features regarding the Gods of Light and Dawn in it's own way. It offered a wave of a hand when it was finally approached, lantern eyes fit to pierce even Godly flesh. "Not-Siblings" it started, voice echoing as if in a grand hall with the crackle of a bonfire behind it, waving it's hands towards Kyra and Matole. "Would you like to hear a story?"

[Lizard Lord]

With Yara off exploring other parts of the island and Kyra and Yen'Hi busy conversing Ratameeko turns towards Matole and the illusion of Rizzit. (Though not towards Jukovak as his friendly demeanor towards Yara and his talk of conflict makes him not a trust worthy ally.)

"Please brothers I need help. I need allies against Yara for I fear she may try to kill me and I can not win on my own. Not against her."

[squidpope]

The bound god stepped back at Yara's words, first in defiance, then in realization and shame. To overstep ones place was a pure anathema to Rizzit, and to have so easily forgotten his himself was despicable. He watched the Huntress disappear into the forest, loathing both her and his own foolishness.

His image turned to the god that was now beseeching him. "I do not know that I will be your ally, though I refuse to allow Yara to be so reckless and aggressive around others. What is it that-"

A cloud passed over the sky in the desert, causing the the image on the island to fade away. Rizzet stared up at the wasteland's sky, wondering why now (of all times) a cloud had decided to visit the water-less place. The cloud eventually finished its migration across the sky, and Rizzit's image blinked back in front of the other gods.

"I apologize, that was unexpected. As I was saying, I believe that alliances of words- that is, to call myself your ally- are pitiful things, vanishing as though they were never there under the slightest strain. I will help you though. What is it that you would have me do for you or your people?"

[Toxic Mind]

The cloud was easy enough. Frozen water vapor coalesced above the desert, shading the sun and breaking the crystal's connection to the island, if just for a moment. Every act of defiance was a challenge, and this one easy enough to show the other gods that the being that professed a desire to collar Yara was no greater than she, and moreover, limited in his power.

Yara knew they would plot. Schemers, one and all, trying to eke out as much territory as they could as "theirs". But Yara knew how to pick her battles. The Hunt with the most clever of prey was oft the most rewarding. And Yara did love things that kept her occupied.

She soars above the island, a bolt through the sky, exploring every mountain and forest. She say strange creatures, like hairless and fang-less Wolven. They seemed so weak and frail. No pelt to protect them from the cold, no fangs or claws to hunt and defend themselves. She wondered how they lived at all. Yara contemplated eating one, but she figured whatever defense the island had would take it askance. So she waited. She knew eventually the hairless ones would venture beyond the borders of the island. Yara was patient. After exploring the island to her content, she heads back to the Hunting Grounds, to see what the Wolven had accomplished in her absence.

[Lizard Lord]

"First I will need to be escorted to the World Tree, my tree. It is the one place in the world Yara can not go, or rather the one place she shouldn't go but I really hope she does. However, it is far from here and she may still attack me on the way. I realize you are only an illusion brother Rizzet, thus I will need the help of brother Matole for this part."

Ratameeko than turned towards the god of the mist. "What say you? Would you please help me?"

[Snowfire]

Brother, I would love to. Yet unless you are willing to travel with me, I cannot stay to hear it.

Kyra's face was downcast, her glowing eyes sad as she spoke the words that she knew she had to, gesturing at the sun as it began to rise from where it lay seemingly nestled in the mountains of Beacon into the sky.

My duty is to the Dawn, to make it all it can be and through its moment spread Hope to all things. To leave it undone even once would utterly destroy me.

[Razade]

"I have waited here a single day, Night did not require me weaving it. You bar my children entry for rest on your land and tell me when we may speak. If this is the Light's answer then so be it. If one wishes to dishonor their so called siblings so be it. Such things are not easily forgotten. Tend to your duties." Yen'Hi intoned, offering the slightest of bows and with a motion the skies about Beacon cleared, the beasts and beings departing to whence they came, The Hushed returning to it's Isle.

[bryn0528]

Time passed, as it is so rudely inclined to do. It had been at least a few months after the formation of the Guild, and things were looking good for the Mycons. Settlements appeared up and down the eastern coasts of the Hunting Grounds, where the forests ended and fell to the wild oceans beyond. The Mycons had constructed homes and small towns from fallen timbers excavated from the forest. They did not log themselves, though occasionally would cut a fresh branch from a tree here or there. But the Mycon way was to use the old, recycle the unused. They used powders to draw the moisture from tree trunks in all state of decay, and coated them with shin lacquers. Alchemically preserved wood was resistant to both rot and fire. Mycons found they worked the wood well, and could shape it to many clever designs. Their homes and dwellings resembled twisted facets of the landscape.

The rocky shores, with their mild chill and overcast weather, were well suited to the Mycons and they called this land Jathardul. They grew small crops of mushroom to eat, and thick lichens covered great boulders like fields of soft grass. No one forgot that this land was created originally by Yara, and thus belonged to her, but no others claimed this land as well. The beasts and Wolven of Yara, as well as the prey of Ratameeko, lived deep within the reaches of the forest, beneath a thicket of canopy. The oceans were a fearful place in those days, even for Kyra's nation of the Dawn, who were the only to master seafaring then. But the Mycons came from the oceans, long ago, and were drawn to water of every sort.

Still, even, some Mycons lived on the ever trekking isles of floating mushrooms, ferried across the oceans by notuing more than waves and chance. It could be several seasons or even generations between contact with the mainland Guild and the free floating island Guilds. The latter took on a more rural lifestyle, though the well-managed Guild maintained a surprisingly uniform appearance and demeanor, even with several weeks or months asea and out of contact.

[Snowfire]

Before Yen'Hi can remove himself, Kyra spoke.

Brother, if I do not see my duty done I die. Beacon gave you knowledge of where I was, told you many hours past that you could find me if you wished to. I have given you means to speak, it requires only that we move whilst doing so - I do not believe any of us are incapable of such things.

The Dawnchild gestured at Beacon.

Beacon was my first Creation, something that I had no experience in in the moment I made it. That it prevented your children from entering the place, then it was of no malice on my part and it is a restriction I will happily remove.

Another quick gesture, and the mist of invisible golden motes faded, and Yen'Hi was able to clearly sense that they would now allow his creations to pass.

And if we are to talk of dishonour, brother, it was not my actions alone that brought it. You brought your children to this place, in such numbers that many could have seen it as an attempted assault upon an island whose only crime was to be different to your nature. And you misjudge my own with no seeming care as to find the truth of it. Yet let it pass, for in each day there are starts anew for the world entire. And as I have said once, I will say again; I wish no conflict between family.

She sighed, aware that she was beginning to shrink as the Dawn moved. Already she was skating on her reserve, and there was little more time that she could wait.

Travel with me, and we will speak. But I cannot remain here, for if I do this family will have lost its first member before the sun reaches its height. My Power requires Duty, and I cannot fight it.

[Toxic Mind]

There are many ways that a god might learn of the things within the world. To follow the sun, to walk upon the light and to see what it touches, to see through the mists as they lay heavy in the morning. To walk as a mirage, through the crystals and winds. To see through ponds, reflections and mirrors in nature and through spilled blood and spilled seed. Yara is not one of those. She sees things with her own eyes, hears with her own ears, tastes with her own mouth. So she sees the humans as she flys above the island of the dawn, and as she returns to the Hunting Grounds, she looks upon the village of the Mycons.

She hides above them for a while, watching the industrious race as they create their domiciles, as they decay and grow the forest around them, using detritus. Yara could not decide if the Mycons were predator or prey, for the idea of something between the two was anathema to her. But they were advancing, they grew. Yara departed soon after, but before, she left something behind in the forest, just outside the village, a tree, massive and old, scored with claw marks. No warning, but a calling card to the god that created these being, that Yara had seen, and an invitation. For to mortals, they were claws, massive in size, but still normal. To a god, they would blow with Yara's message. For the Frost Huntress did indeed wish to speak with the other that had built within her forests.

And Yara thought that the Wolven must grow too, as she had grown, the Wolven must evolve, or risk becoming truly less than other races. Unacceptable.

Yara returns to the Wolven after her soujorn. Where before the Wolven had been fractured tribes, each fighting and preying off the others, now a semblance of order had appeared. Where before many roaming alphas had laid claim to territory, boundries shifting by the day, now four tribes had emerged. Each is led by an Alpha who maintained his or her rule through fear, force, and shifting pack politics. For Alpha could be male or female, though the mate of the Alpha was the Omega. There were many alphas within each pack, and all vie for position and to take the seat of the ruler. Yara approved. It kept the leader sharp, and the underlings hungry for power.

The four tribes are each named after some quality that defined them. The Ironfur had dark grey pelts, and hunted the mountains near the east of the forest. They dug into the stone with claws, and unearthed harder stones, from which they took their name. They had no use for such stones... Yet. The Frostclaw were white as the snowy lands that they hunted, though they built their homes too in the forests, their lands were far to the north, and their favored prey the animals among the frigid flatlands. They were hearty and used to shifting climates. The Sandhide were consummate stealth hunters, the Southern counterpart to the Frostclaw, and their fur was brown and tan as the dunes they hunted. They prized the art of the silent kill, and made their homes among the treetops, rather than on the ground. To become an adult, a Sandhide would have to survive a week in the desert, fighting with the wryms. Many did not become adults. And last were the Earthfang. They lived in the forest, and they hunted the children of Ratameeko. They valued life and freedom, and the thrill of the hunt. They were peerless hunters and trackers, for their skills were honed against the children of the god of prey. They wore mottled brown, to better blend with the earth and tree trunks.

Yara approved. And she decided that she would bestow upon her children a gift. She knew not yet what it would be, but the tribes had done well. She would visit their Alphas, so that they knew their mother was true and powerful. And perhaps, once the one who built the homes of the mushroom men came, she would find suitable gifts for her children.


1AP: Advance Age - Wolven (Bronze Age)
1AP: Create Organization - The Tribes - Every Wolven not an outcast belongs to one of the four tribes, each with a defined territory and defining characteristics. The tribes are distinct and each led by a leader, but competition and fighting among them is fierce. Wolven are centered around their Alpha, not around their species, yet. Outcasts can be used as other goes see fit, but the Tribes are Yara's domain and can only be used with approval. Outcasts can originate from any tribe, either because they failed in their challenge against an Alpha and fled, or did not complete their rite of passage.
AP Remaining: 0

[bryn0528]

Days passed, and Yara's tree stood, marked and alone. The first to find it was a small scouting group; the Guild sent many such forays into the forest, constantly hungry for more fell giants. They saw the marks and fell silent instantly. There had not been a creature so large and so close to Jathardul's quaint villages in quite some time. They prayed silently, not to Mykal, but to She-of-the-Forests, the Huntress Queen, the godling they called Jathar, but was otherwise known as Yara. For her, at the base of the tree, they left an offering of sorts; perhaps nothing the goddess would be interested in, since she seemed the sort for blood sacrifice, but an offering of peace and kindness regardless. They left for her here grilled mushroom caps, small dried fruits, the branches of wild flowers, and small wooden totems carved from wood in abstracted shapes of animals they had seen. And then they left, told their people of the place, and the Mycons left the place as a miniature sanctuary for the godess, afraid that if she had not accepted their offerings, then a terrible beastie would come and destroy them as heretics.

Mykal took his time, but eventually he came, having heard the whispers of his people. Upon the tree, in its slashes, grew a peculiar mushroom. The scar of divine energy was a unique kind of refuse, so it could only be expected to grow a unique sort of fungus, as these things were. Thin, golden stalks with steeped golden caps shone with brilliance even under the shadowy roof of leaves. Mykal gave his nod of approval before shuffling around the offerings left to Yara. He picked up one of the fruits, and set to nibbling on it, while he waited for her to return.

[Toxic Mind]

Days passed, and Yara's tree stood, marked and alone. The first to find it was a small scouting group; the Guild sent many such forays into the forest, constantly hungry for more fell giants. They saw the marks and fell silent instantly. There had not been a creature so large and so close to Jathardul's quaint villages in quite some time. They prayed silently, not to Mykal, but to She-of-the-Forests, the Huntress Queen, the godling they called Jathar, but was otherwise known as Yara. For her, at the base of the tree, they left an offering of sorts; perhaps nothing the goddess would be interested in, since she seemed the sort for blood sacrifice, but an offering of peace and kindness regardless. They left for her here grilled mushroom caps, small dried fruits, the branches of wild flowers, and small wooden totems carved from wood in abstracted shapes of animals they had seen. And then they left, told their people of the place, and the Mycons left the place as a miniature sanctuary for the godess, afraid that if she had not accepted their offerings, then a terrible beastie would come and destroy them as heretics.

Mykal took his time, but eventually he came, having heard the whispers of his people. Upon the tree, in its slashes, grew a peculiar mushroom. The scar of divine energy was a unique kind of refuse, so it could only be expected to grow a unique sort of fungus, as these things were. Thin, golden stalks with steeped golden caps shone with brilliance even under the shadowy roof of leaves. Mykal gave his nod of approval before shuffling around the offerings left to Yara. He picked up one of the fruits, and set to nibbling on it, while he waited for her to return.

He did not wait long. It is in the nature of the divine to know when something touches their domain. And so when Mykal joined his energy with that of the mushrooms that fed from Yara, she knew the one that she had been waiting for had come. Had it been another, Yara might have stalked up, unseen and unheard. But Yara could smell the offerings of its people, and knew that its presence meant that she had no reason to play games, if this one even bothered to do so. So she bounds through the forest on legs instead of wings, making far more noise than is necessary, than she had made before, so that the One-Who-Waits might know she approached. And when she reaches the tree, soon enough, for Yara knows these woods as no other, and they embrace her, giving flight to her steps, she says nothing at first, merely sniffing at the fungi growing on the claw-scar. It smelled of her, as it must, but also of another, of the thing that sat, eating the fruits. Eventually, after examining the small shrine, the carvings, the offerings, she sits next to Mykal, sensing no threat from it, and less fear. "Your people fear what lies in the forest. They know of me, yet they believe that I will keep them safe. It is... strange."

[bryn0528]

Mykal shrugged rather helplessly. Well, what are you going to do about it? He didn't actually ask this rhetorical action, but his shrug had a rather clear meaning. Mortals would believe what they wanted, just as the gods did themselves. The Mycons were no less wrong about thinking Yara might extend protection to them than Yara was to think them foolish for such thoughts. Thee world just happened to be that way, strange as it seemed. He did his best pantomine of a scary beast, and then chimed with a delicate noise. Laughter, perhaps?

Mykal might have offered her to partake of the fruit he continued to eat, but thought better of it. Instead, he left for her the mushrooms, while though not meat was also not fruit or vegetable. Therein lied the dilema of Yara's and Mykal's exchange; she did not know if she and her people, proud hunters, should eat the fungus which was neither plant nor animal. If it was simply a plant, they could turn their noses up easily enough, and were it meat, just the opposite. Mykal did not expect the goddess to take her offerings.

[Kapow]

Over Beacon, Matole had just started to follow Yen'Hi's invitation, as it was distracted by the squirrels plea for help.
"Just one moment, golden one, I have an idea."

As it arrived at the site of the conversation between dawn and night, its shape had changed once again. Now it was a humanoid buildup of clouds, sunlight beaming through holes where the eyes would be.
With astonishment, it followed the discussion of the two deities, until it couldn't keep silent anymore.
"You're quite sensitive, aren't you?", it smiled at the Hushed One, "The Dawn has to travel all the time, I travel nearly as much, all your, by the way quite fascinating, creations are travellers, but for you a day, or night of travel is asked to much?
My, are you a sour one, perhaps that comes from dwelling in the dark all the time?"
The Dripping Mist certainly didn't show much respect, but it wasn't hostile either.
"Perhaps I can help you in your diplomatic endeavours, and, in the same time, help our animalistic sibling down there."

And with this, it began to call clouds, connecting them, piling them up, until there was a veritable castle constructed.
Matole clapped its hands in joy.
Not bad I'd say.
"Here dear siblings, I present you... drum roll... The Castle of the Dawn.
Where Night and Day meet in peace.
Or at least eventually will, I hope."

Somethings still missing, but what?
Oh, I know!

Then Matoles current body came apart again, but this time, the single clouds kept consciousness.
"Go my children, this castle shall be your home. But listen, everybody, who can get there and keeps the peace shall be welcome. Help them to accomodate and most important, HAVE FUN!

And get this golden Squirrel up here, I don't know if it can fly."

3 AP
-2 AP Shape Sanctum:The Castle of the Dawn This castle travels with the dawn and was created to be the meeting place between Night and Day. As such it is especially open to Kyra and Yen'Hi, but everybody who can reach it, mortal or deity, is welcome, as long as they keep peaceful.
Kyra may very well use it to follow her duty more comfortable. :smallwink:
-1 AP Create Mythological Life: Cloud-ElementalsThey have no real name atm, perhaps this will come later.
Right now, they are the staff of the Castle of the Dawn. Basically bigger versions of the Mistlings, they are more serious and will seldom interact with earthbound beings
0 AP

[Lizard Lord]

Ratameeko looked up at the sky and smiled. That building should do well as it offers the same protections as this island.


He than turns back to the illusion. "Before I go brother Rizzet, as you have been able to send an illusion all the way here, I take it that such things are your specialty? Could you create something that can fool Yara and her hunters? Some sort of scent illusion or something that would give off the airs of myself and my people from a distance until only direct contact is made?"

[mystic1110]

The cardinals which comprised the God of Revels looked at Ratameeko, who had pointedly ignored him in his quest for allies.

Little Brother! You need help? Gladly! Ask of me what you will! Brother Mist gave me a present once that I loved very much - and I do like the concept of gift giving. Sacrifice and giving wholly of oneself is a laudable goal!

[squidpope]

Ratameeko looked up at the sky and smiled. That building should do well as it offers the same protections as this island.


He than turns back to the illusion. "Before I go brother Rizzet, as you have been able to send an illusion all the way here, I take it that such things are your specialty? Could you create something that can fool Yara and her hunters? Some sort of scent illusion or something that would give off the airs of myself and my people from a distance until only direct contact is made?"



"I am afraid that Yara is too good a huntress to be fooled by something so simple as a trick of the light. It saddens me that I cannot help you against her. Her hunters though, I do believe I may be able to help with them. Tell me, which of your creatures is the most humble?"

[Toxic Mind]

"I did not hunt it, and so it is not mine to consume." Yara says as answer to the offer. It is not that she, or even the Wolven, solely eat meat. But to Yara, to consume something that one did not have a hand in bringing down yourself was wrong. And she had seen the mushroom men. To her eyes, such an offering was flesh, or at the very least, a distant relative. "Do you not feel odd at offering the flesh of kin to another?"

[Razade]

Before Yen'Hi can remove himself, Kyra spoke.

Brother, if I do not see my duty done I die. Beacon gave you knowledge of where I was, told you many hours past that you could find me if you wished to. I have given you means to speak, it requires only that we move whilst doing so - I do not believe any of us are incapable of such things.

The Dawnchild gestured at Beacon.

Beacon was my first Creation, something that I had no experience in in the moment I made it. That it prevented your children from entering the place, then it was of no malice on my part and it is a restriction I will happily remove.

Another quick gesture, and the mist of invisible golden motes faded, and Yen'Hi was able to clearly sense that they would now allow his creations to pass.

And if we are to talk of dishonour, brother, it was not my actions alone that brought it. You brought your children to this place, in such numbers that many could have seen it as an attempted assault upon an island whose only crime was to be different to your nature. And you misjudge my own with no seeming care as to find the truth of it. Yet let it pass, for in each day there are starts anew for the world entire. And as I have said once, I will say again; I wish no conflict between family.

She sighed, aware that she was beginning to shrink as the Dawn moved. Already she was skating on her reserve, and there was little more time that she could wait.

Travel with me, and we will speak. But I cannot remain here, for if I do this family will have lost its first member before the sun reaches its height. My Power requires Duty, and I cannot fight it.


Over Beacon, Matole had just started to follow Yen'Hi's invitation, as it was distracted by the squirrels plea for help.
"Just one moment, golden one, I have an idea."

As it arrived at the site of the conversation between dawn and night, its shape had changed once again. Now it was a humanoid buildup of clouds, sunlight beaming through holes where the eyes would be.
With astonishment, it followed the discussion of the two deities, until it couldn't keep silent anymore.
"You're quite sensitive, aren't you?", it smiled at the Hushed One, "The Dawn has to travel all the time, I travel nearly as much, all your, by the way quite fascinating, creations are travellers, but for you a day, or night of travel is asked to much?
My, are you a sour one, perhaps that comes from dwelling in the dark all the time?"
The Dripping Mist certainly didn't show much respect, but it wasn't hostile either.
"Perhaps I can help you in your diplomatic endeavours, and, in the same time, help our animalistic sibling down there."

And with this, it began to call clouds, connecting them, piling them up, until there was a veritable castle constructed.
Matole clapped its hands in joy.
Not bad I'd say.
"Here dear siblings, I present you... drum roll... The Castle of the Dawn.
Where Night and Day meet in peace.
Or at least eventually will, I hope."

Somethings still missing, but what?
Oh, I know!

Then Matoles current body came apart again, but this time, the single clouds kept consciousness.
"Go my children, this castle shall be your home. But listen, everybody, who can get there and keeps the peace shall be welcome. Help them to accomodate and most important, HAVE FUN!

And get this golden Squirrel up here, I don't know if it can fly."

3 AP
-2 AP Shape Sanctum:The Castle of the Dawn This castle travels with the dawn and was created to be the meeting place between Night and Day. As such it is especially open to Kyra and Yen'Hi, but everybody who can reach it, mortal or deity, is welcome, as long as they keep peaceful.
Kyra may very well use it to follow her duty more comfortable. :smallwink:
-1 AP Create Mythological Life: Cloud-ElementalsThey have no real name atm, perhaps this will come later.
Right now, they are the staff of the Castle of the Dawn. Basically bigger versions of the Mistlings, they are more serious and will seldom interact with earthbound beings
0 AP

If emotion were something Yen'Hi could feel or display it would be hopping with it as yet the Dawn Goddess barred it from even leaving after a simple story being denied. "What can these creatures do to Men with weapons? They are made of wood and ink and easily burned by their fires and their only will is to spread their stories to all who wish to hear. It is not they who broke the Night and Day with the rotation of the Spheres. It is not they who seem Duty Bound to continue this cycle when there was but Balance before. For any to think the Night came for war, they need only read that it was Night that acted last in all this meeting nor made a move to touch your land."

A single woven finger jutted from the shadows of the great cloak about the Hushed One at the Dawn Goddess. "This one has moved mountains to meet you and yet you expect it to move yet more? To know that one is so frail that they must travel with their Duty or die and yet did not speak this at once? How many more mountains must this one walk until you are satisfied? Must this one too fulfill your duty? Go Frail Dawn but this one will not travel with you. Perhaps when your assault on this one's Island has come again you will stop and pay your respects. Perhaps you will not." It then turns to the Rainbow God, eyes yet still burning with indignation. "A full day has passed and gone, and the Fragile Dawn expects this one to know she must forever move? Presumptuous you are not just here. To start this sphere turning, without asking a single one of us how that might harm them. So sensitive are you both to presume war and hurt nerves before a volley is fired. This one is not a thing of war but words and it acts accordingly. It worries at the ready assumptions of it's Not Siblings for the former. This one has received their message that The Night does not belong with the Day but this was not a decision of consensus. This one will take leave. You may come to this one's home if you so desire to speak." And with that, the creatures of Yen'Hi let forth a song that shook the heavens and for a moment the air thrummed with power. Magic was only as strong as the teller and with so many joining the tale even great feats could be wrought and in the next, the Ensemble of Night was gone.

[bryn0528]

Mykal shrugged helplessly again. Still, he did not speak, but his meaning was clear; a divine shrug is worth a thousand words, even coming from a god no taller than three inches. Sure, both Mycons and mushrooms were similar, both fungal at least, but they weren't really the same thing. Mycons themselves ate mushrooms along with fruits, wild vegetables, and the occasional small animal they could trap (the kind of sort that didn't talk, since some animals chose to remain feral; mycons did not have the stomach to tolerate food that begged for its life). Mycons and mushrooms were similars, but they were not the same and they were not kin. It is the same reasoning behind animals eating other animals; were they both not flesh and blood? Bone and marrow? Mykal, could he speak, would have offered that only eating sentient beings was amoral (except perhaps the talking animals of the forest, because it was in their very nature of beingnprey and predators, and perhaps a courtesy that extended to the Wolven as well, but it was simply inappropriate for a Mycon).

Instead, Mykal, finished with his meal and licking his sticky fingers, stood up and began to slowly walk away. He beckoned for Yara to follow him, and if she did, the pair would spend the better half of an hour walking a rather short distance. He led them to an ancient splayed corpse of some creature, its bones mostly picked clean by predator and scavenger. What it once was is hard if not impossible to say. Mykal stood over the body, revenant. He gestured to Yara, as if to exemplify what a shame this corpse laid bare to the world really signified.

[Toxic Mind]

"It is in the nature of all living things to die. Is this death less glorious or less saddening then dying of old age? I know what you mean to show me, but we hunt because it is in our nature to pursue and be pursued. For us is not the quiet life. Ours is of heat and blood and sweat. And for us, that is good." Yara looks down at the bones. "You think us reavers. But we are like your farmers, who prune the weak and the dying so that those who are whole and hale may continue. To us, the hunt is sacred, and their is great honor in the pursuit. It is a test of one's own skill against another, in the only arena that truly matters. If the hunted is caught, than it dies, and if it escapes, the hunter dies. Their dying may be dissimilar in form, but the result is the same."

Yara looks at Mykal. "Your people are industrious and strong, if small. How is this accomplished, for I saw no duels, no proving grounds, no trials. How do your people find their strength?" The question fascinated Yara, for she knew of only one way to gain strength, and the idea that one might gain it elsewhere was intriguing. It may not change, but knowledge of the paths of power was always worthwhile for a huntress.

[bryn0528]

Mykal nodded in agreement with Yara's words, but shook his had sadly at her meaning. She had misunderstood his gesture here, as he figured she might. Perhaps it was not yet the time to address the concern he showed for the dead, and perhaps Yara had been the wrong godling to ask, for her concern was only mortal flesh. He put little thought into it, allowing her to believe what she wanted of this meeting for the time. Instead, he turned to contemplate her own question.

Where did the Mycons find their strength? Innovation, at least, was the proof of their strength, its result, but not the cause. After a while, the god smiled widely and lifted his hands as high as possible so that Yara might see. In a slow gesture, he entwined his fingers together, so that they locked tightly, and hope that his meaning was clear enough. He knew it not to be in her nature, but she had asked, hadn't she?

[Lizard Lord]

The cardinals which comprised the God of Revels looked at Ratameeko, who had pointedly ignored him in his quest for allies.

Little Brother! You need help? Gladly! Ask of me what you will! Brother Mist gave me a present once that I loved very much - and I do like the concept of gift giving. Sacrifice and giving wholly of oneself is a laudable goal!

"Oh? You would help me avoid or end conflict between another god? But if it is merely a gift you want I would like you to give my people a gift of protection." Ratameeko says warily, still not sure if he should trust the smiling god.







"I am afraid that Yara is too good a huntress to be fooled by something so simple as a trick of the light. It saddens me that I cannot help you against her. Her hunters though, I do believe I may be able to help with them. Tell me, which of your creatures is the most humble?"




By this Ratameeko was puzzled and sat down as he pondered this question. He had not taught his people humility. Before he came along his people had no sense of self worth, believing themselves to be nothing more than food for the predators. He taught them the greatness in their gifts, but left no room for humility. Still his people's minds were their own and among them there must be one that is the most humble, even if it is a low bar to reach.

Then he remembered the animals whose sense of shame had balanced out the sense of greatness that Ratameeko taught them.

Finally he answered. "That would be the Roosters. There are very few in the nation of the forest, but those that are not are still my people."

[mystic1110]

The cardinals sang in various tunes, and then in unison snakes emerged from each of their mouths. The poor birds vomited and most of them bled, since Jukovak is nothing if not depraved. The snakes spoke - sinuous and slithering - in a silky smooth sound, perhaps only because they enjoyed the alteration.

Ah! A gift of protection? That shall be done.

And with that the snakes slithered off into the ocean - for it appeared that the meeting of night and day did not need the self appointed arbiter (much to his disappointment). As they passed into the ocean - the reflection of the cloud above only reflected a naked man walking upside down on the waters surface.

The god of revels had a gift to prepare.

[squidpope]

"Oh? You would help me avoid or end conflict between another god? But if it is merely a gift you want I would like you to give my people a gift of protection." Ratameeko says warily, still not sure if he should trust the smiling god.







By this Ratameeko was puzzled and sat down as he pondered this question. He had not taught his people humility. Before he came along his people had no sense of self worth, believing themselves to be nothing more than food for the predators. He taught them the greatness in their gifts, but left no room for humility. Still his people's minds were their own and among them there must be one that is the most humble, even if it is a low bar to reach.

Then he remembered the animals whose sense of shame had balanced out the sense of greatness that Ratameeko taught them.

Finally he answered. "That would be the Roosters. There are very few in the nation of the forest, but those that are not are still my people."


"The Roosters? Hm... very well. They that know their own limitations will be granted the greatest of my boons." And with that Rizzit vanished from in front of the view of Ratameeko. In desert, he hunched down and lifted several grains of sand, as well a a fragment of the spire from when he had broken it earlier. Closing his palms around the small grains, he breathed into his closed hands. Each small particle began to glow, some blue, some green, some red. The small shard of glass that was held with them reflected these colors, and soon it too began to glow with all the radiance of the colors around it. Rizzit opened his hands and blew, the wind dragging the fragments of light to where they were meant to be.

In the Forest, a squirrel was running, his heart pounding as he flew over bramble and debris to flee a predator rapidly approaching. He could feel its hot breathe behind him, the rancid smell of the beasts maw pursuing her. He knew he could not keep this up for much longer. His legs began to tire, and with it his mind began to falter. This is why they told me not to leave the tree, his frazzled mind raced. I don't care how precious that ruby was, it isn't worth my life. The gnarled roots of an old oak broke the earth in front of him, weaving in and out of the dirt in a senseless and unpredictable pattern. The squirrel, normally an expert at navigating the underbrush, lost his footing and fell, hitting the ground and continuing forward until all the momentum had left his body. He was done for. The pursuing predator caught up quickly, and leaned in towards its prize. The Squirrel clenched his eyes shut, fearing the end of his life and clutching the stone he had been sent out to retreive close to his chest.

There was a sniff. Another sniff. The squirrel opened his eyes. The beast was still there, that much was true, but was merely sniffing him, confusion plain on his face. Then it left, lumbering off in search of its next quarry. Squirrel looked down to the stone that he was carrying to find that it was gone, only a soft glow of where it had once been remained. Far more importantly though, he was gone. His hands, his feet, even the bushy tail he took so much pride in had vanished. Slowly, his outline appeared, first taking on the consistency of smoke, then to that of a thick haze, and finally only a small blurring before becoming normal again. He went home, hoping to make sense of it all.

When He returned to Ratameeko's grand tree he found the whole place abuzz with activity, people cheering, laughing, dancing while a din of curious oohs and ahhs played thick through the air/

"What happened" Squirrel asked Rabbit, who had bounded up to him with more energy than usual.

"The most marvelous thing! Look!" Rabbit closed his eyes and bent his brow in concentration. Slowly in the air next to him, another Rabbit appeared, identical to the first one.

"I... I too have something I have discovered" Squirrel said.

"AH! Yes! The stone! Do you have it!?" Rabbit asked, his attention flickering quickly between Squirrel and the copy of himself.

"Yes... well no. It vanished while I was carrying it but-"

"THEN YOU CAN DO IT TOO!?" Rabbit yelled, now ecstatic. "EVERYONE WHO WENT OUT TO LOOK FOR ONE CAN DO SOMETHING"

"Every... Everyone?"

"Well... most everyone. And everyone of the same species as them. Like Rat. He found the emerald, but it turned to dust when he grabbed it. But now, Rat can make himself sound like he is in a different place than he actually is. And Deer! Deer can make it smell different. She found the sapphire and now all the deer have been making the whole town smell good." At this, Rabbit took a big whiff of the clover smell that now hung over the town.

"So those crystals... they were magic?"

"Yup!"

"What about the big one we saw? The one that had all those lights in it?"

"Well..." Rabbit began. "Rooster found it. But it melted just like all the others. But guess what!? Rooster can do everything Rat and Deer can do, plus what I can do, PLUS he can turn invisible. How cool is that!"

"... I uh, I can do that too now..." Squirrel said quietly.

"WHAAAA.....!? We gotta go tell Rooster RIGHT NOW!" and with that, Rabbit and his double bounded off, with Squirrel following them closely.


5/6 +3 from rollover puts me at my limit of six.
-2 AP: Illusion magic- The prey of the forest can now do illusion magic. unfortunately, each type of animal can only do one trick, and some can't do any. Deer can change smells, rats and mice can create sounds, squirrels can turn invisible, and rabbits can create duplicates of themselves. Rooster, having been shown humility, can perform all of these tricks, but still is unable to dance. No skill may be taught to any other type of animal, and chipmunks, birds, and gophers don't have any magic.
4/6 AP left

[Toxic Mind]

Mushroom Meeting

"Unity." Yara looks at the twined hands. "But your Unity is not like the Wolven. Your people are not brought in line by strength. You mean to tell me that they simply follow their leaders because they believe it is right? What if their leader is weak, cowardly?"

Among the Forests

The Earthfang tribe were the first to realize that something had changed in the forest. Closest to the other creatures, they noticed it when suddenly, the tribe began starving. The hunters were coming home with too little to feed the tribe. But the Wolven were not mere beasts. The predators in the forest suffered, to be sure, and the birds and gophers and chipmunks were paying the price on that front. For the beasts of the forest would hunt what was easy. And the gift turned sour for the many prey-creatures that had received no special treatment. The Wolven, however, simply adapt. They are far more intelligent than the animals of the forest, and so they begin to create tools to counter these strange new advances.

The first are traps. Vicious things, their purpose is death without a hunter needing to be present to deliver the kill, as well as some to capture. Pits dug into the ground, with stakes sharpened. Tree bows lined with razor sharp stones, to main the paws of prey running through the trees. Lines strung across well-traveled areas that slice and hamstring prey, no matter what sounds they could shift or scents they could change. And the animals suffered. It was not how the Earthfang Wolven would have liked to do things, but the lives of their people were at stake.

The second was a weapon created to solve the problem of Wolven chasing their prey. The Hunt for the Wolven had always been a primal thing, beast against Wolven, each testing the strength and agility of the other. But now, now such a luxury could not be afforded. For whatever reason, the Wolven did not know why, the animals attempted genocide, to wipe them out via starvation. It was war, and so war they would get. The Wolven bent lengths of wood, oiled so as not to break, and tied the ends with muscle tissue from past kills, giving it a springy tensile strength. Then they fashioned lengths of wood with pointed tips, reminiscent of fangs of out sharped stones, which they attached to the end. And so the first bows were created, and the Wolven learned archery. A means of killing from a distance, a revolution of war and death, though the Wolven would not understand that yet, for they had no desire beyond the hunting among the forests.

So the Earthfang became the finest archers among the Wolven, and the only archers across the world. And the tide shifted once more into balance. For shifting scents did not matter when a deer was spotted and killed from across a meadow. Sounds did not matter when blood could be tracked on the ground from an animal wounded by a trap. A trap did not care if you were invisible, it maimed and wounded just the same. Illusionary duplicates did not trigger or disturb traps throughout the forest, and so their owners died the same.

And the poor Rooster. The Rooster became somewhat of a myth to the Earthfang, and they were hunted by the most seasoned hunters, no longer for food, but for sport. A Rooster was known to be the most cunning of prey, and for the Earthfang, killing one was a mark of true honor, the badge of a true hunter, and it was known that one could not hope to become Alpha of the Earthfang until your neck was adorned with Rooster skulls, and your arrows fletched with Rooster feathers. And so the Rooster would not know a moment of peace outside the world tree, for he would ever be on his guard in the forest.


1AP: Trapping - In the Bronze Age, the Wolven discover the creation and making of traps. For now, they a crude things, pits and sharpened stakes, nooses and caltrops of sharp stone. But as they discover the powers of metalworking, these traps will evolve in both ingenuity and lethality.
1AP: Archery - Also in the Bronze Age, the Wolven create bows and arrows. Rudimentary things made of bendable wood and muscle tissue, the arrows simply fletched and the tips made of stone, they are nonetheless the first ranged weapon in existence, and still very deadly. Wolven hunters among the Earthfang begin carrying bows with them on the hunt, to counter the strange mystic advances made by the animals. As with traps, as technology progresses, the use of archery will advance as well.

*Closed Concepts*

Remaining: 1AP

[bryn0528]

Mykal shook his head yet again. Yara, it seemed, had not grasped how Mycon heirarchy differed from that of the tribes. He raised his hands again, as if to offer her a closer second glimpse. Ah, there it is. Each finger linked together is of a similar size with another. Yara had spoken of chains before, how only the weakest link could determine the strength of the whole. But what if you could offer a chain where each link had the same strength? A theoretical chain with no single individual you could hope to break? And so it was among Mycons, that the Guild was not ran by one individual leader, but by the voice of the people. Sure, there was heirarchy involved within Guild politics, it would be utter chaos without it (recall the first meeting, which involved fisticuffs and many bruised egos), but concerns were communal, issues handled in the public's eye. Perhaps, even, this is why the several branches and chapters could maintain such a consistency even across space and time.

The mushroom god smiled, as if this was explanation enough. He then turned about and began to walk away, though, not wanting to be rude, bowed before Yara before doing so. He showed no concern with exposing his back to the goddess, confident she would appreciate this trust. Besides, the world was moving along, and Mykal had business to attend. One shouldn't allow Mycons to stwlew alone for too long, lest their industry veer into undesired territories.


It looked like what you might expect a glorified raft to look like, which the batge was, more or less. The thing looked more traitorous than a Wolven's smile, would comment one Mycon, later, shortly before everyone looked over their shoulders. The whole thing wobbled to and fro on every wave and wake. It took on a disturbing amount of seawater already, even though the wood was well lacquered and sealed with tar. Several Mycons attempted to keep the thing upright and in control by poling along with the longest branches they could find. A rudementery canvas had been lashed to a tall post in the barge's center, mostly free to simply flap about. A great wind stirred and the thing filled like a balloon. Suddenly, under the creaking of timbers, the barge rose into the air and somersaulted twice, throwing Mycons everywhere about in the shallow waters. The Guild Chaptermaiden stood on the rocky outcropping of a shore, watching the debaucle unfold with a deep frown cut into her face. They were making no progress, she thought, as Mycons on shore threw out hemp lines to the splashing Mycons who quickly abandonded the now sinking and capsized barge. It seemed they would have to seek a new direction in order to satisfy the Guild's plans.

"Jorak! Fetch the best Guild Alchemists. Tell them we need as many of the flying mushrooms as we can muster."

[Lizard Lord]

Ratameeko shuddered at the god of Revel's departure. He hopes he does not regret that, but any damage done should be reversible and it would make it easier for him to decide if Jukovak can trusted.


Finally Ratameeko had the cloud elementals lift him up into the flying castle where he got a grand view of the world up there, though most of what he could see at the moment was ocean. He had also sensed that his people where in trouble and knew that he had to get the world tree as fast as possible.


Dawn could not come fast enough.

[mystic1110]

Jukovak journeyed far and wide in different guises among the animals in the forest. He saw them hunted despite their eloquent poems - their blood flowing in narrow rivers. He saw them hide - and then sniffed out. He saw them run - and ran down. He saw them die and hide their deaths in song and merriment since death was a constant dancing partner. And he was happy. But he promised his brother a present, and as was mentioned presents were something Jukovak took very seriously. He grabbed a chicken, and cut off it's wings. He took a snake, and ripped off its tail. He found a mouse, and stole its paws. He caged a robin, and traded for its eyes. He discovered a rabbit, and seduced its ears off.

He took all these parts and rolled them all together in his palms. When he opened his palms all forth of strange creations poured out into the forest. These were the Chimera's - creatures that the world never saw before. They were fantastical and wondrous! And all through the night Jukovak worked on them. They danced around him and read poems in his honor. Some were horrific - some had ten arms and ears on each finger. The Chimera were not guardians, they were not stronger than the Wolven, they were not the saviors of the forest - but they could survive. They themselves could survive. That was protection in one way. The rabbit may not be protected, but its ears were. The squirrel may not be protected, but its paws were.

As Jukovak cut through the forest, taking and stealing parts for his incredible creations (Ha! many would limp after this revel!), he whispered to them the secrets of life. Life should be lived! Enjoyed! Life for the sake of life! If they are to survive, they are to make use of their lives! Out of the Chimeras he made - he forgot the number, why are numbers important? - he selected a few of them - about six, or seven? Maybe eight? - and named them Revel Lords. They were not really lords - no Chimera would bow in front of them - but they were to start the celebrations during the darkest hours. They were to start the secret rituals - the dances of blood and urine. They were to collect their tears and parse them out to the others to drink from. And they were only allowed to speak in poems. A small slavery, enough to make them rebel against it. And Jukovak smiled.

The god took one of the Revel Lords - the smallest one - a rabbit with crow's feet, a Beaver tail and the wings of a swan, and eyes of a doe. Jukovak took the Revel Lord to The Castle of the Dawn where Ratameeko resided. The Revel Lord walked into the castle on its own. Or flew in rather. The God of merriment appeared in shadowy reflections of the castle's tapestries. He was the sense of anticipation in the air.

The god spoke to his brother.

Brother! I made this creature to please you! Look how it safe keeps the parts of those under your watchful eye!

The Revel Lord itself spoke, it preened in front of the audience and spoke in a sing song like the rushing water - it's voice surprisingly deep.

Father and Father/I welcome you to my castle!/ I do not want to be a bother/But I want to claim the clouds as my vassal. I was a gift, and gifts have their due/and I only ask for a small change/I want to take care everything that is blue/please Fathers make this exchange.

The Revel Lord bowed after the performance, and Jukovak clapped (although how a sense of anticipation could clap is a mystery)

A novel idea! Don't you think brother? None of us rules the skies, nor the seas! We can make our own siblings. We can place them up high and set them against ourselves and each other. Oh! It could be so much fun!



AP 2 +3 AP rollover

AP 1: Create Chimeras
AP 1: Revel Lords

AP 3

[Razade]

Yen'Hi returned to its cave, brooding over the events at the Island of Dawn. There were other Gods doing things on their own lands they had shaped and what was more it seemed that they were protecting their children from those that remained outside the Midnight Island, the First Land. How long until they saw its own land and find it unprotected would they be able to hold back from invading the pristine forests untouched by mortal feet? It then thought "What if I were to create another land, now that there are certainly others" and thus it did. A sea length from The Hunting Lands rose another continent, lush and tropical with great rivers and jagged mountains that ran through out it. And like the Hunting Lands the new continent was equally as large as it's sister lands. It named this land Hoklo.

4 AP

Create Land: Hoklo -2 AP

4 AP -2 AP =2 AP

[Lizard Lord]

Ratameeko shook his head at the creature. "This castle is a sanctum made by the god Matole for the goddess Kyra. You can not claim it as your own without the permission of one or both. I have no say in that.

However everything else in the sky, as long as it is not already claimed by another god, may be yours. Take what you can and hoard as much as you can. You never know when you may need it. Now, if you would excuse us, I would like to speak to your other father alone."

[Snowfire]

Beacon

Kyra turned to Matole as Yen'Hi vanished in an exertion of divine will, following its scorning of their attempts at diplomacy. Her face was drawn despite the golden light playing across her form, and the she spoke words were sad despite their necessity.

I think you must come with me, brother.

She said, and even as she spoke she began to move, the pull of her duty drawing her onwards.

For I think we must tell our darkling brother that it was not my actions that set this world spinning. His words are wrong, blind in their assumption and shadowed by anger, and I worry that even with the truth he will not accept the change that has come to his 'perfect balance'. Yet we can only try.

Her expression brightened slightly as she turned in flight, looking up at the Castle of Dawn with a faint smile.

I thank you for your creation, and I will take my rest there as I need to. But for now I must be away. If you would be willing, grant me the honour of your company at the Isle of Midnight when my Dawn comes to it.

And then the Goddess - shrunk to barely the size of a cat now - accelerated, hurling herself into the work of Creation.

Children of Kyra

And yet even as she dashed into the west, Kyra did not leave her Children without the touch of her love upon them. The dawn light whispered as it touched foreheads, insight and knowledge bursting to life at its touch. Dreams full of possibilities sharpened, focusing on what could be made real now - and maybe a little further. They had made their first steps, beginning to find each other using the gifts of their Mother. This was another such, for its timing with the dawn could mean little else.

The Children would meet their brothers and sisters in harmony, Beacon would supply their needs, and together they would build a people worthy of their creator. It...was not simple, perhaps. But it would be done, for all they needed would be given. If they could still screw it up with all that...they didn't deserve their Mother. At least that was their opinion.

The nascent civilisation established smitheries, and upon the white sands of Beacon the first skeletons of shipyards began to take shape as humanity put the knowledge gifted to it to work. Trees were cut and pulled down to clear the beginnings of space for fields. The tools of the Founding were of great use here, axes and scythes forged of metal that no race on the planet had yet discovered a way to shape. Yet with the knowledge of the first of metals, there also came something far more important for the peoples of Beacon. The ability to find each other again once they had been found. A people of great ability to read their place from the world, and to find again places they had seen before. And for an island nation, what could be more valuable in the times to come?

3 AP from rollover

Advance Age: Bronze Age
Humanity is divinely gifted with the knowledge that brings it to the Bronze Age.

2/6 AP

Create Concept: Navigation
The ability to navigate, like shipbuilding, will be an eternal part of humanity's culture. Given time to practice, a human will be able to tell their location from the stars or the set of the sun, and building maps from even sparse landmarks will become second nature to them.

1/6 AP

[Razade]

Yen'Hi still felt yet restless in its home, moving slowly to the closest shore of its newly formed land and contemplated the yet dark earth where no sun had touched. Other Gods had less monstrous followers to do their bidding so it too would make children of its own to tend over the other creations. From the dark and moist earth and the lush verdant plants that grew from Hoklo it formed them. They were to be swift so it started with the legs and modeled them after the deer of its own island and made the rest of the body lean for they could not weigh much. It granted them large eyes like a great cat for they were to be creatures of the night and had to see within the gloom of their creator. Their flesh took the colors of the earth they were made from and ranged from black to sable and their bodies were covered in a light fur yet still there was something missing to the Hushed. So it stood back from the First and regarded the creation in the silence of the glade yet before it could settle the glade was alive with bird calls as a large boar tore though the clearing, a pack of wolves close on the doomed beasts heels. It then knew what The First was missing and thus plucked the song of the bird from the air and planted it deep within the creations throat. For if they were to be the Children of Yen'Hi they would need a voice worthy of the stories they would tell. It then made a host of the downy creatures and covered them so they would have protection against the rain and sun and wind.

It also did not forget, as its children moved about for the first time on their new legs, of the wolves that prowled so close by. It drew the youngest of the tribe between its folds and whispered knowledge on how to speak words of power that ran through all of creation and harness the gift that only the Storytellers had wrought. But theirs would not be a song of learning but songs of protection and flame for it taught the Youngest how to sing of Flame and Shadow to not only cook their meats and vegetables but to fell any beast that sought to harm them. It then allowed the Youngest to return to its kind alight with knowledge beyond their young minds. It only hoped they would use it responsible until such a time as it could return to them and help guide the young race.

2 AP

Create Race: Elves -1 AP

Create Concept: Wizardry -1 AP

2 AP - 1 AP -1 AP =0 AP

[mystic1110]

Ratameeko shook his head at the creature. "This castle is a sanctum made by the god Matole for the goddess Kyra. You can not claim it as your own without the permission of one or both. I have no say in that.

However everything else in the sky, as long as it is not already claimed by another god, may be yours. Take what you can and hoard as much as you can. You never know when you may need it. Now, if you would excuse us, I would like to speak to your other father alone."

The Revel Lord - although it would call itself Its Majesty Fiaflor - forgave the small god's discourtesy. Proper courtesy would be to bow in front of it. Fathers still bow before their kings - it assumed (It was, after all, only just born into this world, so it did not know all of these things). Its Majesty Fiaflor clucked, for it had the tonsils of a turkey, and chuckled.

If it is not yours father, than it can be mine/I will wait here until dawn/and with no wish to malign/you and my other father may pass on. Have your conversation outside/for this is my seat now/and I where I now reside/yet if you knock you will be welcome forever, this I vow.

Truth be told, the Revel Lord was a painful rhymer, but there are rules as it was. The God of Mirth chuckled at the young ones audacity and laughed

Yes! Yes! Why live life in half measures! Take what you can take! Hoard what you can! Isn't that why you teach brother. Come lets give the Lord of the Castle his space, and we may converse and dance among the clouds.

With that Jukovak's sense of anticipation broke, and instead bats flew from the corners of the shadows and they took to flight. They circled the castle in a blind ring, waiting for the other god.

[Toxic Mind]

The Wolven were not stagnant, waiting for the prey god, or if we are honest with ourself, particularly caring. Now, it is important to note that trade among the tribes was very limited. After all, each tribe knew its own people simply by the color of their fur, so trade negotiations were either mutual, or ended bloody. Besides, it was a well known fact that the subtler arts were unbecoming of a true Wolven, though all practiced them.

It is important to to remember that at this time, the Wolven had just discovered archery and the bow, and while these instruments would rabidly take a place of great status and honor in the Hunt, they had no place in the fights between Wolven. No true Alpha would stoop to using a ranged weapon to defeat their foe, and no tribe would accept them if they did. Still, the best archers were honored alongside the greatest warrior hunters. And the ingenious traps of the tribe's greatest minds were bought and bartered as plans by other tribes.

The Wolven soon became Shamanistic in their beliefs. There was a spirit of the forest, of the tundra and the desert, of the mountains and the rivers. There was a spirit of the bow and arrow, of the traps. There was a spirit in the grasses and plants, and in the blood spilled in combat and the blood spilled in the Hunt. And above all these to the Wolven was the Huntress. They had no other name for her, for no other name was given. She appeared to warriors after a long and taxing hunt, particularly against a powerful and dangerous predator. She was a mirage, glowing eyes in the darkness, larger than anything they had ever seen, yet lithe and fast. To the Wolven, the Huntress was life and death. She provided them with food, and when their time was at an end, she took them from this world, to hunt with her among the shadows in the forest-that-lay-beyond. The Ancestral spirits of their fallen lay just beyond the purview of the Wolven, but the shaman could see them, call to them, for a time. And it was well known that the death of an Alpha was attended to personally by the Huntress.

The beliefs of the tribes were never codified, but it was known by all of the spirits, and their quirks and desires and trickeries. Not all spirits were good, and some must be warded off by totems and charms. So Shamans began to exist among the Wolven tribes, powerful practitioners of spirit magics, able to call upon the ancestral spirits, and commune with the spirits of the world. And every spirit, no matter it's nature or it's purpose, was respected, though none were so feared as the Huntress.

1AP: Shamanism - the Wolven belief system revolves around the idea of spirits that inhabit everything, from the smallest acorn to the greatest oak. There are embodiments of concepts, like the Hunt, and some overlap with actual gods, for instance the spirit of blood is Jukovak, but by another name, for the names of the spirits are true power over them. As the Wolven now have religion, they are open to visits rom other gods (spirits), though remember that not all spirits are good, and some are devious, so they won't always believe you, particularly if you go against their core belief system.

[Lizard Lord]

The Revel Lord - although it would call itself Its Majesty Fiaflor - forgave the small god's discourtesy. Proper courtesy would be to bow in front of it. Fathers still bow before their kings - it assumed (It was, after all, only just born into this world, so it did not know all of these things). Its Majesty Fiaflor clucked, for it had the tonsils of a turkey, and chuckled.

If it is not yours father, than it can be mine/I will wait here until dawn/and with no wish to malign/you and my other father may pass on. Have your conversation outside/for this is my seat now/and I where I now reside/yet if you knock you will be welcome forever, this I vow.

Truth be told, the Revel Lord was a painful rhymer, but there are rules as it was. The God of Mirth chuckled at the young ones audacity and laughed

Yes! Yes! Why live life in half measures! Take what you can take! Hoard what you can! Isn't that why you teach brother. Come lets give the Lord of the Castle his space, and we may converse and dance among the clouds.

With that Jukovak's sense of anticipation broke, and instead bats flew from the corners of the shadows and they took to flight. They circled the castle in a blind ring, waiting for the other god.


Ratameeko stepped out of the castle and onto the clouds that seemed to support it. He also had to chuckle at the revel lords ego. He had the ego of the greatest animals.

"Should one of us tell him that Matole or Kyra could push him out with but a thought, or should we let him find out the hard way? Then again they may actually let him stay, I would."


Ratameeko than grimaced a bit as he worried, still not getting where Juukovak stands as a potential ally. "Speaking of which, I left my request vague because I wanted to see what you would do with it. Is he somehow suppose to be the gift of protection or is this unrelated?"

[squidpope]

"Well... That was... odd" Rizzit said, standing at the border of the desert and peering into the great forest that lay just beyond the ragged dunes of his own realm. He reached his arm forward, only for the chains to tighten about it once again, binding it to his side. This was of course the first time he had tried to leave the desert, but it seemed that he was bound to the sandy wastes in more than just a spiritual sense. Perhaps the Frost Fanged had forbid him entry into the greener section of the land, though that seemed unlikely. Yara would have loved to hunt him down for trespassing, so to erect this... invisible wall? It did not seem like her. Again Rizzit reached out to touch the plants so close in front of him, and again his hand was forced away from boundary between golden sand and emerald forest.

"Ah," He sighed, his dejection heard by no one as he turned to begin the long trek back to his pillar. "Well if that is how it is, I might as well make things here more interesting."

The feats of creation did not come so easily to Rizzit as they did the other gods. He wanted to create another building but kept running dry of ideas. He wanted to make life but could not figure out what he wanted. He wanted something hardy, like the Mycons, something that could survive on very little food or water. Yet he had seen for himself how Yara's children could accomplish so much together, things so much greater than themselves. Yet he could think of nothing. Why was it so difficult for him? even the Goddess of Dawn had created life, and she had not even been a day old. Perhaps he was not meant to create life. Perhaps he was just meant to watch it unfold from his crystal spire. Pity that it wasn't alive.

Rizzit paused at this idea, then thought, then smiled. Then Rizzit began to work. He took the sand form below him and shaped it into an impossibly smooth sphere. Then another. Then another. Soon Rizzit had made many of these things, these tiny orbs of sand. One by one he lifted them up, and cupping each one in his hands he blew life into them. The sand melted, then reformed into a crystal of unrivaled clarity and color; shimmering gold and silver spheres, glowing balls of aquamarine and turquoise, delicate orbs of ruby and emerald. These gemstones rose from his hands, some spinning slow, carefree circles around each other, while others ripped paths in the sand as they raced up and down dunes. When all of the glowing spheres were finished, Rizzet produced a single link of cold, dull iron, and placed it onto one of the spheres.

The sphere let out a sound, a strange, joyous thrumming, and the single link grew into a mighty chain. It gathered up five or six others and bound them to itself, the chain weaving in between them until it was impossible to tell which one had began the process. Other spheres then did the same, binding each other with their own chain until there were only a few stray spheres that darted around on their own. Then one of the things bowed to the god that had sired it, turned, and walked off into the far reaches of the desert. five more of these creatures did the same, though each traveled in a different direction into the wastes. The final one did not bow, but with a voice like the chorus of many spoke instead. "These ones thank you." The thing spoke, before leaving as well.

"Well..." Rizzet stood, staring at the the creatures lumbering off in different directions, their movements awkward and rigid. "I guess I'll just stay here... by myself... Ingrates." Rizzit slumped onto the ground, exhausted form his creation, and once more alone.



4/6 AP
Since everyone was making their races, I might as well do this now.
1 AP create race- The Shards: The shards are a race of constructs that roam the deserts of the Hunting Grounds. Each one consists of 7-9 Orbs bound together by a chain. These orbs are freethinking creatures that willingly bind themselves together, and when bound they act as a single creature might. The make decisions by consensus, and as a result are often very slow to act. Shards can make more Orbs to propagate their race, but do not do so under normal circumstances. Once one of the Orbs connects itself to the others, it cannot separate unless it can convince all the other orbs that the group consists of to let it go.

3/6 AP remaining

I realize this is kind of an off the wall race, so let me know if I under costed it or it seems too disruptive.

[bryn0528]

While the Wolven fashioned bows of wood and gut-strings, and taught themselves of the spirits; while the rainforests of Hoklo just began to bloom and the satyr-elves walked on shaky hooves; while Kyra's children laxed away under the Dawn's every care; that is when the Mycons practice their craft in the land of Jathardul, which they consider holy above all else. More varities of fungus grow withhin Yara's garden, for her lands are the most filled with death, from animal and tree alike. And where blood spills the ground, all manner and variety of mushroom blooms.

The Guild experimented vastly. Each new-found species of fungus could result in months of work, in trying to cultivate it in their alchemy labs and grind it into powders and to distill essences with clever alembics.... Each new ingredient reacted differently with the last, and the results were nearly infinite. You could dry wood so that it wouldn't rot in the elements, or dry food so that it remained preserved for mch longer than it normally should. There were balms and ointments which could change the color of your flesh, or its texture, or its scent; powders when cast upon an enemy made his senses burn madly; clouds of stinking gas, which could incapacitate entire swaths of land from the slightest breeze. So much and more. Each new experiment revealed even greater possibilities. They made elixirs to ensnare the mind, alchemical cements, ointments so specific you could make yourself invisible in the right environment. Each new discovery seemed more fantastical than the last, and this was the secret to the greatest of Alchemies.

The gathering places of the Mycons began to grow as their numbers increased. They tilled the soils with tools of wood and stone. They set up simple wooden post fences and constructed walls of wooden pikes. They set down paths of wooden planks over boggy soils, they fashioned hemp bridges to span chasms and fissures in the land. The towns of the Mycons began to grow, and they took to expanding into the trees. Where once everything was low and squat, they used the towering trees as the base to construct stacked houses and lofty balconies hidden in the leaves. Clever networks of rope bridges swung in the canopy, and some Mycons never once stepped on the ground in an entire lifetime.

AP REMAINING: 1.
(Advance Age: Iron Age, the Wayward Guild). -1
(Create concept: Advanced Alchemy). -1

[mystic1110]

Ratameeko stepped out of the castle and onto the clouds that seemed to support it. He also had to chuckle at the revel lords ego. He had the ego of the greatest animals.

"Should one of us tell him that Matole or Kyra could push him out with but a thought, or should we let him find out the hard way? Then again they may actually let him stay, I would."


Ratameeko than grimaced a bit as he worried, still not getting where Juukovak stands as a potential ally. "Speaking of which, I left my request vague because I wanted to see what you would do with it. Is he somehow suppose to be the gift of protection or is this unrelated?"

The bats spoke in weird silences - silences so loud that you can mold them into words, sentences, paragraphs and even songs. The silences had a melody, a tune, a rhythm. And this is what they said.

Brother you think that our siblings can defeat him? You think you can? How about me? That should be fun to see if we ever come to blows!

The bats flew in symmetric patterns, making them appear as nodes than living breathing animals. There was just something so very artificial in their flight - why would two fly left over there? Why did two fly right? Why are they constantly switching places? There was no reason to it but it was so carefully structured.

And yes, brother, you asked for protection for your people! Look at his Majesty in his castle - did you ever imagine your people ever kicking you out of your own place?! I took one of our Sister's lessons - best protection is strength, and together they are stronger. I took them apart and put them back together! They are better now! You like rabbits, you like deer, you like swans and beavers and crows - I just stitched them together so you can like the best of the best of the things you like best!

The bats laughed at the joke.

[Lizard Lord]

Ratameeko shook his head. "In this castle of course they could defeat him. He did not make this sanctum and thus only has power here if he has permission from its creator. It is the same as Beacon or did you forget what happened to the Garden of Truth? Build such a place yourself and you will see what I mean."

"As for your gift, I left my request vague and yet you still could not follow the wording. I asked a gift of protection for my people, not their parts. Instead you tore apart my people to make something different and claim it to be the gift I asked for. I see now that I need no gifts from you. If I need or want anything from you I will take it and hoard it."

[Toxic Mind]

The Wolven were advancing. Yara had decided on her gift, but she would wait for the right time to give it. She would hold back, to let the Wolven truly find their course. But Yara had things to do in the world, and chief among them is the issue of the scents.

There were two.

First was the forges. Yara could smell it on the air, a scent of fire and metal. Of course no one else could smell it, no other animals not on the island where the forges resided. But Yara is a god, a predator, with a sense of smell that is unparalleled. Now she could track such a scent, but for what purpose? The knowledge that such things exist is enough for her.

The second scent was far more troubling. It makes Yara wonder if she had left the island too early, if her family had plotted in her absence. She wondered if it was a trap, if it was some kind of lure designed to ensnare her. Because what she smells is abomination. So Yara soars into the clouds to find the source, leading her inevitably to a castle in the mists. There is a flock of bats around it, tasty snacks in another place, but Yara has thought for only one thing. She can smell it, an amalgam of flesh and blood and bone, but none of it correct, none of it right. "SHOW YOURSELF"

[mystic1110]

Ratameeko shook his head. "In this castle of course they could defeat him. He did not make this sanctum and thus only has power here if he has permission from its creator. It is the same as Beacon or did you forget what happened to the Garden of Truth? Build such a place yourself and you will see what I mean."

"As for your gift, I left my request vague and yet you still could not follow the wording. I asked a gift of protection for my people, not their parts. Instead you tore apart my people to make something different and claim it to be the gift I asked for. I see now that I need no gifts from you. If I need or want anything from you I will take it and hoard it."

The bats laughed, and smiled if a swarm could smile.

I did not forget! Did you see how dawn enjoyed my gift? She sculpted the trees I made, and ripped off the leaves and placed others in their stead. She re-imagined them and it was glorious! As for gifts, no one needs gifts, that's why they are gifts. The pleasure is in seeing what the giver gives!

And now there was a somber tone, as the bats slowed their flight

I am saddened you did not like my gift - I tried so very hard. Do you not love what I have made? It has everything you ever liked, but better! The same blood flows through their veins as it did in what came before. The same tears at you turning away. Will you abandon them just because they were not what you had in mind?

And just as suddenly the bats closed in and took the form of a man, a merry man that is - the tone shifting abruptly, for reflections are often fractured. The man spoke in a high pitch of child.

But now your turn! For that is how gifts are made. I gave you a gift, and now you must present a gift to me. And what I want is for you to give me Sorrow. Surprise me! Delight Me! No! Don't do that! Make me Cry! I know you will do your best!

Before hearing an answer the bat man grabbed the other god as a good friend, the other gift being assumed as a given (pardon the pun) and pointed towards the castle.

Look! Look! Our sister has come to play with our little King.


The Wolven were advancing. Yara had decided on her gift, but she would wait for the right time to give it. She would hold back, to let the Wolven truly find their course. But Yara had things to do in the world, and chief among them is the issue of the scents.

There were two.

First was the forges. Yara could smell it on the air, a scent of fire and metal. Of course no one else could smell it, no other animals not on the island where the forges resided. But Yara is a god, a predator, with a sense of smell that is unparalleled. Now she could track such a scent, but for what purpose? The knowledge that such things exist is enough for her.

The second scent was far more troubling. It makes Yara wonder if she had left the island too early, if her family had plotted in her absence. She wondered if it was a trap, if it was some kind of lure designed to ensnare her. Because what she smells is abomination. So Yara soars into the clouds to find the source, leading her inevitably to a castle in the mists. There is a flock of bats around it, tasty snacks in another place, but Yara has thought for only one thing. She can smell it, an amalgam of flesh and blood and bone, but none of it correct, none of it right. "SHOW YOURSELF"

Sitting on the throne of the castle was Its Majesty Fiaflor. Its swan wings crested its head like a corona, its beaver tail folded underneath it like a pillow. Its doe eyes were wide, but not with fear, but with affront. It stared at the goddess proud and dignified, for when Jukovak made this particular Revel Lord, he took only the haughtiest of parts, leaving humility to the donors. It spoke in a mocking tone.

Who speaks before the King/Of empty skies without cloud/without giving their due or deigning to sing/to my pleasure aloud?

Jukovak laughed outside - when he created poetry he did not understand what a terrible evil of bad poems he unleashed upon the world.

[Toxic Mind]

Yara pads into the "throne" room, the cheshire grin on her face. Ratameeko would feel what Jukovak would not, could not, for his ties were to blood, not to the primal Hunt. Yara was the picture of calm, but beneath was a rage black and terrible, an all consuming fire that would consume all that lay in its path. But Ratameeko would take solace in knowing that, if even for a moment, that bloody desire was focused at someone other than him and his children.

"Oh great King of the sky/your wings Take away breath/they Anger the gods/they'll lead to your death" Yara says in reply. She is of the forests, and many an animal had plied her with poetry before its death. "Oh great King, you have angered a powerful and fearsome warrior, who even now comes to enact their vengeance. Surely you must fear them, for they come to end you!" Yara smiles inside. Arrogant fool. His brag of Kingship showed her hunter's eyes one thing - this abberation of nature did not recognize the power of a god. It did not know to fear her. It would learn.

[Lizard Lord]

Castle of the Dawn

Ratameeko shook his head. "I have no issue with your creations. It is not their fault they were born. I have issue with the how. How many of my people suffered to make your own? If you cannot..."

Ratameeko's words were cut short as Yara approached and he felt her lust for blood. Seeing that the Frost Fanged was distracted (though also feeling sympathy for the one distracting her) he saw his chance to escape. Looking down and finding trees below Ratameeko leaped from the clouds and opened flaps between his arms and legs to glide down to the ground.


Nation of the Forrest

In their god's absence the Nation of their Forrest had to learn to survive on their own. When Rizzit's gift gave the squirrels, deer, mice, rabbits, and roosters protection they could focus more on what they wanted than on survival. To take what you can and horde as much as you can was their god's mantra and so that is what they did. However it came to be that there was those that did not have enough room to horde everything they took. So others offered banking services, to use their room to horde your stuff for you at a cost of some of your stuff.


Then the Wolven began to advance. The traps and arrows had many of them die despite their illusions and it seemed like things were the way they were before Ratameeko came to them.

The World Tree, however, kept them safe. And, while they worshiped Ratameeko as their god and creator of the World Tree, they began to revere it. But this reverence did not simply stop at the world tree, for all of nature (besides the predators of course) had given them protection. Tall grass, Bushes, Trees, and other plants had given them both food and a place to hide from. Even the earth itself, which birthed the plants, had allowed them build tunnels and holes to hide from the predators. And so reverence was given to all these things. They had found that with such respect the plants and earth would grant even more protection as they could be bent to other uses.

Still there were those that wished for a better life outside of the World Tree and decided that they too need to advance. How they came about doing so was to spy on the Wolven tribes and steal their secrets. After only a few successful missions of this nature they had found enough that the Nation of the Forest could keep up with their hunters and put these advances to use to better their lot in life.

Though they did not master the arts of archery and trapping as well as the Wovlen (nor did they care to) they felt they could use what the knew of traps to identify and avoid the traps the Wolven laid. Though this system was not quite perfected yet it did help save a few lives. Better still however, though the Wolven did not focus much on armor the Nation of Forrest put most of their focus into armor for protection. They had created lightweight armor to protect them from the Wolven arrows while still giving good maneuverability (such as letting birds fly). Even those that did not have illusions could be protected now. They could survive.


(It feels like a while since I had spent any actions and I think I miscalculated earlier as I should have spent 2 points on the World Tree rather than one. Though I believe it has only been one rollover since Ratameeko arrived at Beacon, but I could be wrong.

Anyways, and feel free to correct, but I believe I have 6 AP to spend.)

-1 Create Concept: Banking
-1 Create Concept: Espionage
-1 Advance Age: Bronze Age
-2 Create Supernatural Concept: Druidism
-1 Create Concept: Armor
AP remaining: 0

[bryn0528]

In each Guild Chapterhouse, there exists a master ledger which lists the current holds of the Guild. On the eastern shores of the Yara's Hunting Fields, in a land the Mycons call Jathardul (meaning Yara's land, in their own tongue), there are seven major holds. Of the entire Guild, these are by far its largest chapters. They are Gjaarhaus, Nthandhaus, Tangurhaus, Lokuurhaus, Babishaus, Hjaalhaus, and Mchandhaus.

Gjaarhaus, meaning "snow home", is the farthest north, and the smallest of the Guilded holds. Much of the year it is a dark and gloomy land, covered in frosts and snows. The land is open, very few trees grow in such an environment, the soil is rocky yet fertile. Mycons here till the ground which hoes; they grow great pastures of lichen. From a distance, the foothills look to be covered in low yellow grass. The homes here are low, squat huts. Timber is such a rare resource, the Mycons build mostly with baked mud, using wooden posts only for main support. It never rains, just a driving snow, so their homes do not melt like they would farther south. Lichens of all kind grow on their homes, which make them look like little grassy hills. The Mycons of Gjaarhaus collect stones and pave walkways with them, and erect low barriers of stacked rocks to distinguish their fields. They have little defense, but not much lives in this land. Of the Guild's holds, Gjaarhaus is one of few that does not border the sea; here, the waters are frozen over with great white caps much of the year.

Nthandhaus, meaning "shiny rock home", is less than a day's walk south of Gjaarhaus. It rests in a quarry carved from soft gepsum. Rain collects in deep channels cut into the earth, which the Mycons draw from for water. The channels run east, toward the sea, where it dumps onto a short cliff overlooking the ocean. The tricking water filters through small and large rocks, where Nthandfolk cultivate mosses. Everyday, farmers can be seen bent over slick rocks, where they have thrown debris to collect and grow their intended wares. This far north, there are no true trees, but scruby bushes grow everywhere. Mycons weave, rather than build, scaffoldings from the branches they collect and unearth. These careful structures embrace the white cliff facade, where the homes of Nthandhaus have been clawed out with simple tools and specialized acids.

Tangurhaus, meaning "briar home", was much farther south than the above mentioned holds, since the northern holds are quite far removed indeed. The only way to travel north from here is by the old walking paths the original Mycons used. Tangurhaus lies on a stretch of land that sticks out into the ocean like a great finger. It rises above the waters, higher than the rest of the coast, and forms a natural fortification. Furthermore, and true to its name, the hill is covered with the growth of thick, thorny brush. Some of these briars are so thick and woven together that Tangurfolk have carefully guided their growth into domes and halls for their own living space. One could walk the entire hill of Tangurhaus and not once see the sky. Well, perhaps this is not true, for there are special atriums, made from clever alchemical glass, which are quite popular. Other sky openings allow for rain to fall through and to be collected into deep wells like in Nthandhaus. Much of the hold is paved with lacquered wood, which genuinely makes Tangurhaus feel as if it is one giant building, but these areas are barenwith dirt and small grasses at the waters edge. Even small trees grow under the thorny shade of briar roofs and small bright mushrooms like flowers. The entire hold is lavished with rich fabrics, for Tangurhaus is famous for its briarcotton. Should one find themselves in the labyrinth of thorny halls, the juxtoposition of inside and outside is nearly intoxicating. There is no other place like Tangurhaus.

Lokuurhaus, meaning "milk home", can be found by traveling west, inland, from Tangurhaus along the great and well traveled road. In many places, this road is properly paved with stone and mortar, though much of it is still only hard packed earth. Mycons push along their trollies everyday, back and forth to peddle their wares. At a leisurely pace, it is about a four hour walk between the two cities. Lokuurhaus, however, is home to what one is accustomed to as a proper... well, home; two storey buildings, slightly lowered into the earth so that the "ground" floor is actually half buried. They have walls of wood on the outside, and plaster on the inside, with foundations of stone and thatched roofs. Glass windows allow light to pour warmly into every room, for Lokiurhaus is covered in perpetual dusk. Lookurhaus rests beneath the canopy of a great forest, and is the Guild's largest hold which does not touch the sea. Even in the highest noon sun, the light is not strong, but a gentle golden color. Lokuurfolk farms are perhaps the greatest in the world, and they grow much of the Guild's food. The strangest is a bulbous fungus which grows only on certain trees and which gives the township of Lokuur its name; rhese hairy red fruits can be tapped for a thick white sap rich in nutrients. Lokuurfolk are the finest cooks in the world. The Guild even holds a special academy here, dedicated just to the alchemical art of cuisine. Guild chefs are the best in the world, and will master the eight beautiful arts better than the use of their own... well, the only appropriate word for it is "psuedo-genetelia".

Babishaus, meaning "wizard home", can be found south of the great road which connects Tangur and Lokuurhaus. There is a crossroads, or rather a path which branches from the mainroad. There are a few inns and taverns there, but does not hold a permanent population large enough to be a proper chapter. There arensebates as to whether these businesses report under the Tangur chapter or the Lokuur chapter. Generally, it is the former. Babishaus does not take part in these debatez, because it is much farther south; nearly four days journey along the long path. It is a scenic journey, twisting through the forest and following the rocky coastline, and generally worth considering, to visit Babishaus. The hold sits high atop a rocky outcropping. It is possible to walk along the road and pass Babishaus without even noticing. The only way up is via an elevator powered with dedicated workers. The hold of Babishaus is contained by every side with walls of timber and cement; it resembles nothing so much as a giant courtyard, stripped from a castle and stuck on the peak of a rather large rock. Like Lokuurhaus, the buildings are entirely constructed rather than carved from nature, but Babisfolk prefer stony plaster (cement) walls on the outside and wooden walls on the inside. Many of the city's buildings are yall and square; Babishaus is well known for its towers and glass atriums. It also contains the largest library of the hold, collections of alchemical recipes and histories recorded onto alchemically prepared and preserved sheets of bark. While the Guild does not practice any known magic, the term Babis, or wizard, refers to the most skilled of alchemists; Babishaus, in addition to its library, is the greatest place to learn alchemy. If one wants only the best alchemy, then it is worth the journey to come (though they better have something of value to offer in trade, because the cost for quality is steep).

If one continued south along the road, one would come to Hjaalhaus, meaning "guild home". This is the largest holding of the Guild, and its capital city. It stands among a grove of trees which overlook the sea. Here, the homes are built on the branches of forest giants. Rope bridges connect balconies and wooden pathways, which hover above the shallow and sluggish channel of water some would call a creek. The stream provides irrigation for cultivation and eventually empties into a great and protected bay. In those shallow waters, the skeletal remains of a barge sit, slowly being reclaimed by dilligent workers. Hjaalhaus is the largest holding, and the city is divided into different neighborhoods and ghettos. Thers ars the slums, farthest inland and low to the ground. Some shacks and shanties here are built on the ground and brush against the waters edge. The richer one is, the closer they live to the sea, though generally not much higher. Only the bravest Hjaalfolk live in the tallest branches, which sway dangerously in any breeze.

Farthest south and bordering the deserts is Mchandhaus, meaning "dark rock home". It is a city built into the earth like Nthandhaus. No water falls from the sky here, either as rain or snow, but each morning great banks of fog roll off the sea and cover the coast in thick dew. Mosses and lichens grow across the surfaces if well tended rocks in a city nestled between giant boulders. The landscape held strange shapes, some formed by Mycon hands but most are natural formations. Mchandfolk built their homes between the tight spaces and nestled in weird places. Walking along the city paths is like walking in a fairy tale land, made even stranger since inland from the coast the land turns dry and yellow. Mchandhaus is a place of wonder and grey stone covered in rich greens. Mchandfolk specialize in extracting precious minerals from deep underground by using a jealosly guarded process of alchemical acids. They break down rock and turn it into a fine, rich soil, which is distributed to the north, where Hjaalhaus' fiefs and pastures grow their precious fungus. Mchandhaus is a quiet settlement, and said to have many secrets lying in wait within its fairy tale halls.

[mystic1110]

Yara pads into the "throne" room, the cheshire grin on her face. Ratameeko would feel what Jukovak would not, could not, for his ties were to blood, not to the primal Hunt. Yara was the picture of calm, but beneath was a rage black and terrible, an all consuming fire that would consume all that lay in its path. But Ratameeko would take solace in knowing that, if even for a moment, that bloody desire was focused at someone other than him and his children.

"Oh great King of the sky/your wings Take away breath/they Anger the gods/they'll lead to your death" Yara says in reply. She is of the forests, and many an animal had plied her with poetry before its death. "Oh great King, you have angered a powerful and fearsome warrior, who even now comes to enact their vengeance. Surely you must fear them, for they come to end you!" Yara smiles inside. Arrogant fool. His brag of Kingship showed her hunter's eyes one thing - this abberation of nature did not recognize the power of a god. It did not know to fear her. It would learn.

The King showed no fear in the presence of the huntress - it was not hiding the fear - it simply did not know it. The parts of animals which were forced together contained no humility in it, only arrogance. Perhaps the other Revel Lords were molded of other extremes. Perhaps one was made of guile, another anger - this was only vainglory.

Anger the Gods/but I am a God/or is that fact at odds/with your belief or do you think I am a Fraud?


Castle of the Dawn

Ratameeko shook his head. "I have no issue with your creations. It is not their fault they were born. I have issue with the how. How many of my people suffered to make your own? If you cannot..."

Ratameeko's words were cut short as Yara approached and he felt her lust for blood. Seeing that the Frost Fanged was distracted (though also feeling sympathy for the one distracting her) he saw his chance to escape. Looking down and finding trees below Ratameeko leaped from the clouds and opened flaps between his arms and legs to glide down to the ground.


As the other god fled - Jukovak bats fell and turned into silver razor fish as they landed in the ocean. He would not chase the other god - he would get his gift eventually. He would also leave his Chimera to its fate. He gave them the chance to live, but life for Jukovak was one fraught with Death. There was no life if a gruesome end was not your dancing partner. That's what made life so exciting.

Once in the ocean he swam to the only Revel Lord there - in the deepest waters - the darkest waters. Not all the Chimera's were small. Some were made with predator parts. Some were Bears on Horse bodies and antlers. Others may have once been wolves. The Revel Lord of the Sea was the largest by far: a squid's head on a whales body which was covered with the claws of tiny crabs. This would be The Morgoth. Or that's what this Revel Lord would call itself in the future. While Fiaflor was arrogant, The Morgoth was secretive. It did not seek the light and was content to live in the darkness. It needed to throne, no recognition, and most of all no ire of the gods. But, at heart it was still of the Revel. Down in the darkness and briny mud it organized orgies of octopus and shark, dolphin and shrimp.

The silver fish spoke to The Morgoth.

Child Child I have come to see you live, and your life delights me! You have made me proud and all I ask is for you to make a request and I will gladly grant it.

The Morgoth was silent for a long time, and finally in a baritone voice spoke:

I have seen wonders
above the water, making
from nothing, may we?

And Jukovak was delighted for he too saw the magic that was made by his brothers and sister and marveled at it. Not jealously - for he only saw the potential in it - the songs that can be sung with it, the dances and fires that could be started. The abandon to which it could lead to. And so Jukovak in set off to create magic for the Chimera's - from the Morgoth to the sea to Vurguth, whom was simply sown together from the wings of every bird, and whom floated in the sky.

But a god's magic must be made from what he was, and Jukovak was a mirror covered in Seed, Blood, Bile and Urine. What magic could spring forth from one such as he? He could not decide. And so he began to journey in search of what his gift to the Chimera should be. His fish emerged from the water as a swarm of frogs and toads, whom walked and walked until eventually he was merely a sense of restlessness which wandered the land.

Eventually his journey took him to the lands of the Mycon. And he was fascinated by their small magic - and an idea formed in his head. During twilight (which was not of the dawn, the day or the night and would become known as the Reveling hour) he stole a Mycon child from his home. He devised a great cauldron in the wood and sacrificed the child to himself. Symbolically, for Jukovak thought in Symbols, the Mycon was like the fungi they resembled - and with the fungus and the blood and seed of the Mycon child, Jukovak crafted the worlds first beer. It was a dark and strong brew.

Yes there was much power in this thing Jukovak created. It contained mirth and sadness, it had blood and sweat and tears of happiness. It would move life to a razors edge - bringing with it the highest highs and the lowest lows. And the god took the brew in his hands (which he had formed from the twigs of the forest) and drank until it was gone. And in his drunken stupor, Jukovak ran through the world sharing his creation. I mean . . . it wasn't obvious, it was in whispers; a Wolven may accidentally create a liquor made of tree sap, see faring humans may have discovered how to ferment the leaves they found when they made it back ashore, but alcohol was the god's gift to the world.

But he did not forget why he made it in the first place - Jukovak hurried to each of the Revel Lords - even appearing in a rush to the Little Majesty and Yara in the Castle of the Dawn, before departing just as quickly. He went to The Morgoth in the sea, and to Vurguth in the sky. He went to the ones in the forest, the desert, the frozen wastelands and the hidden caves. He gave them his magic.

And finally he returned to the village from where he had stolen the Mycon child, and fell onto his knees (at this time he has taken the form of a Human with the head of a dear and the tiny wings of a scarab - simply things he saw during his drunken world tour) and proceeded to vomit and expel the vast amount of beer he imbued. And then he passed out.

AP 3
Create Concept: alcohol
Create Supernatural Concept: Corporis Ebrius, latin for Drunk Body. This is a very simple magic: This is a transformation/shapeshifting magic that the user needs to get drunk to transform.

[squidpope]

Rizzit was resting alone, as usual, at the base of the great Crystal Spire. While he would never have admitted it, solitude was not comforting to him. Every day he woke up, the sun still beating down hot as ever and he cursed the damned place. Why couldn't he have been chained to a meadow, or nice relaxing beach, or a cave with shelter from the elements? It mattered not, for he was here, and he was not leaving soon.

Across the desert, three Shards drug themselves through a dune, carrying large sandstone blocks cut into rough cubes. Each of the Shards was humming a jaunty tune, individual orbs within it weaving wondrous harmonies and complex rhythms over the strange melodies of others. They hummed often, the Shards, the sound bobbing and weaving through different keys as different individuals led the whole in different directions. Having no real need to farm or sleep, the music helped pass the time. They hummed while working, walking, or even in the middle of conversation. It was common when two Shards met for the first time to exchange songs, each learning the others past and personalities from their songs. In some circles, the language itself had been transformed by music, such that a story could be told with only the soft thrumming of four or five of a Shard's spheres.

The three set down their blocks, placing them next to the other ones that had been gathered. They were not really sure why so many stones had been gathered here, or why so many were needed, but it was not in their nature to question. Very much like children they were, doing as they were told without question as to why, following their instructions in the most literal way. Their language was, in fact, entirely devoid of metaphors of any kind, which perhaps was why they did not understand quite what they were doing. They turned around again immediately after setting these blocks of stone down, setting out under a sky of twisted and fluid light to get more. If their was anything Rizzit had gifted them with, it was a sense of duty, though it seemed strange that a god so versed in illusions had not granted his creations the capacity to disbelieve or even question.

Atop the large wall of stone the Shards were building stood a blasphemous creature staring down at the it's dim witted workers. The head of a wolf, the fur ripped off to expose sinew, muscle, and bone sat atop the body of one of the deserts smaller wurms, which was still a good 10 meters in length. The skin had been peeled off in some places, the viscera purifying under the hot sun, small patches of snakeskin stretched over the top of it, stitched poorly together with the skins of other animals so that the whole coat had a disturbing motley affect. The Shards saw nothing unusual about this, seeing strange mirages in the desert constantly.

The abomination lifted its head, and opening the jaws of an oversized ant-lion sang a cacophonous dirge:


Listen you who live in sand
I come to dance, I come to play
I come to sing in this beautiful land
and teach the blood ballet.

For my little ears have heard your cries
for heat and sweat and passion
but It will come as no surprise
I'll turn your village ashen

So come to me, the desperate few
I will turn none away.
I will tear the life from you
and bind it to the clay.

I will give you endless youth
in earth, in flesh, in blood, forsooth.


With that the Revel Lord of the desert hummed a few bars of a cold and haunting melody, and the Shards at his feet began to assemble the stones in a new way. Using them was not satisfying, as they did not bleed, but they worked efficiently. HE wondered who would be the first to find him, who would lay down their life to dance forever.

[Toxic Mind]

"Mmmmm" Yara moans, licking her paws as she sits in the room. "To be created thus, with no fear. It is a service to this world that I do. You have power, Patchwork King, but it is power without reason. And that is nothing but ill for this world. My judgement is a mercy." The Frost Huntress stands slowly, stretching for a moment. "Have you any words that I would deliver to your kin? You will not have chance to speak them later."

Yara ripples for a moment, and then disappears, her coat blending seamlessly into the room. She moves immediately, no ripple to tell her change, no sound to mark her passing. If the Revel Lord responds, she allows it, but does not reveal herself. If he does not, she does not give him long.

[bryn0528]

Time was its own sort of strange alchemy, transmuting the past into the future. And in the presence of their own alchemical powers, and the nature of Jukovak's perverted alchemy, alcohol, Mycons found themselves transmuted as well. In the mythic era, at the dawn of the world, a strange race of sentient mushrooms seemed appropriate, but as the world matured around them, it had become a childish idea in the eyes of Mykal. With a certain divine push, the Mycons changed their nature for the growing world.

The features of the Mycon began to focus, their faces becoming more distinct. The mushroom people lost their caps with tiny pops. Arms and legs became more defined, and their fingers more flexible, their toes more agile. The transformation wasn't perfect, for this new people still stood around the same height; their features tended to be round and shuishy, making even their elders look like children. Specialized flagella grew from their scalps, and from the faces of the males, resembling nothing so much as hair. Their noses and ears were very large, though not comically so, and some had wide mouths. Though they resembled the former Mycons in so little ways, closer examination would reveal their psuedo-flesh and psuedo-hair to still be spongy and fungal in nature. The new people stopped referring to themselves as Mycons, and adopted a new name; Gnome.

It is these new Gnomes who discover the unconscious body of a deer headed god. With a heavy reverence, though they do not know his true nature, they bring him into their homes and tend to him while he sleeps. The Gnomes are not fools, of course, and they know this man... creature to be responsible for the abduction of a child. They wait for him to awaken.



Among every experiment, there are always mistakes. Colledig seeded darkness inside every creature, and something about Jukovak's dastardly actions brings some of that surging forth. Some Mycons do not dawn as the noble new Gnome, but instead become twisted and dark. They resemble their Gnomish bretheren, but are sharper and more feral. The Guild forsakes those who succumbed to being abominations and outcasts them from society. They live in the deep forest, like wild animals, and are called by many names for as each shape they hold. Large and vicious trolls and ogres, fiendish imps, the impossibly hungry boggarts... The Guild refers to these creatures as goblins, those of the bad blood.

Alter race, Mycons into Gnomes/Goblins. -1 Ap.
TOTAL REMAINING AP: 0.

[Razade]

The Elves were left to their own devices as they watched the Scroll God move of to the oceans and away from their keen eyes. The curious creatures then sat and talked as they built a fire for hunger soon took their mortal frames. With a song the bonfire was built and the gathered peoples gave praise to the warmth and to the shadows they frolicked in. The songs gave way to what the tribe should eat for they were newly formed and had not yet known the taste of flesh on their tongues or the bursting of berries between their teeth. The forests were plentiful for all one could need for food though as the scouts returned an argument arose. Some argued that they should eat only meat while others positioned that living in conjunction with their surroundings was the only proper route. For three days and three nights the parties argued with naught but a stalemate. It was clear that the Elves would need a leader and on the fourth night the arguments moved to who was fit to lead. The two camps moved to their respective sides of the clearing they called home to deliberate and from each party was selected the best and brightest of their people. From the camp asking to live in harmony with the world around them came the Youngest who had learned to sing the songs that shaped the world and who had taught it to his brothers and sisters. From the camp who cried for red meat came the mightiest Hunter who had used the songs that shaped the world to track and sense its prey before slaying them.

Long into the day did the two argue, for the Elves could not fathom harming one another in these early days, and their words shaped the clearing as all Elves can though the clashing of their thoughts wrought much change about themselves than any single elf could do. Animals came from all around to witness the display for the words of the Hunter caused them fear and the grasses and trees sprouted fresh fruits under the appeals of the Younger. But as the fifth night fell it was clear who had won the debate for The Hunter, unused to such lengthy discourse, lost its voice and bowed to the Youngest in defeat. But it is said that the Youngest was not unkind, and spoke to the animals of the world and the plants of the forest and said to its brothers and sisters that both were for the enjoyment and fulfillment of their forms. The Elves then celebrated with a feast and rose the Youngest on their shoulders and in the language of the people they called him The Young Thunder Sage and ever after it was determined that the strongest of those who could sing the songs that shaped the world would lead their people. But this is for another time.

[mystic1110]

[QUOTE=bryn0528;18274260]

It is these new Gnomes who discover the unconscious body of a deer headed god. With a heavy reverence, though they do not know his true nature, they bring him into their homes and tend to him while he sleeps. The Gnomes are not fools, of course, and they know this man... creature to be responsible for the abduction of a child. They wait for him to awaken.



Jukovak wakes up in a single form - something that he is not usually comfortable in - and with the world's first hangover. The pain was glorious. It spoke of broken memories and frightful activities in the night before. He will be glad when the creatures of the world experience its wonder with him. He shifted, groggily - his skin slightly rippling - the song birds and serpents within waiting to burst out of confinement. He looked at the gnomes - and procured out of nothing a bowl of beer which he held with both of his hands.

You're new! Will you have a drink with me?

[Razade]

In the early days of the Elven peoples the Young Thunder Sage ruled with wisdom and harmony between his people and the world about themselves. After the First Elven War, for that is what the Elves refereed to it as, the animosity of the two camps had settled and the Children of The Hushed One were free to frolic and multiply in the lands of Hoklo. But as their numbers continued to grow it was seen that the Young Thunder Sage and his many advisers would be unable to lead the multitude and it was decided that they would break up into various family units once they found suitable land for in these days the Elves still cared for the whole of their species. So it was decided that those who scouted would be permitted to lay claim to the lands they found. The Young Thunder Sage remained with his own children in The Glade which had been decided as the central meeting place for the Families. It then was decided that those Elves who still craved only the meat of the living world would go East where they found the shores of Hoklo and set their camp and nominated their own Sage known as the Young Wave Sage. Those who rejected the idea of eating meet, for there were still those in camp who did, would go West where they would find towering mountains and there they set up their camp and would be led by The Young Frost Sage. Other camps would leave in time and elect their own Young Sage but in these early days only the Three Tribes laid claim to Hoklo and they were deemed The Thunder, Frost and Wave Tribes. Each Tribe was expected to meet once a year at the Glade where the Young Sages would convene and discuss ideas and creations each had developed so that the entire species might grow though each were free to nominate and groom their own Young Sages.

The Thunder Tribe continued in the tradition of the First Sage, nominating the youngest and most promising Mage from the tribe once the previous Thunder Sage passed on. The newly raised Sage would then lead the Tribe in ritual songs while the body of the Sage would be raised in the trees as an offering to the animals and the world in thanks for their continued life. They would then sing the trees into a statue so all could remember who came before them and in this way The Thunder Tribe would venerate both the Young and the Old. Each Young Thunder Sage would give their name to the Tribe upon their raising, and only after their death would they be spoken of with their Birth Name for though the Elves valued the spoken word they too respected their leaders. These names would then be etched in gold and tree sap onto their statues when they passed to the side of Yen'Hi and in this way it was the Thunder Tribe who gave the first Idea to the Elven Confederacy for they had created the written word. The Thunder Tribe would follow suit with their dead, allowing them to return to the land and to be picked at by scavengers as they had picked at the prey and predator animals alike. Some say this is why the other Tribes view the Thunder Tribe as the arbiters of the Elven Race for they tried to live their life in balance with the world and their families.

The Wave Tribe, despite their often times brutal hunting practices, were considered more reverent to their leaders. Much like the Thunder Tribe the Wave Tribe nominated their greatest youth to the position of the Tribe though they valued strength and cunning over the arts of the songs that shaped the world. Youths were granted privilege in the Wave Tribe and could challenge their elders for their position which would in time cause the Wave Tribe to grow more aggressive and hungry for blood than the other Tribes for they refused to remember weakness and only those Young Sages capable of living their full life were immortalized in towering statues carved with sung sea water and stone tools. In fear of attracting predators the Wave Tribe did not keep the bodies of the dead or allow them to rejoin the natural world, putting them out to sea on wooden rafts of burning them in great bonfires where the Tribe would sing the songs that shaped the world in morning and spread the ash into the sands they lived upon. And it was thus that the Wave Tribe would be known as troublesome for the other Tribes for they refused to live with nature and would oft leave meetings of the Confederacy in anger for they could not cow their brothers and sisters.

Unlike the other Tribes the Frost Tribes did not view Youth as a sign of strength and only desired those who knew how to live fully off the land and their wits. A test was formed within the caves and chiseled halls of the Frost Tribes who saw only the stone suitable for living so as not to harm the precious life of nature they required to live. In this way The Frost Tribe distanced themselves from their Brothers and Sisters, for their Sages were often old and isolated and did not view new growth as important as the rest of their blood. In fear that others might eat their dead flesh, all bodies were treated equally where each was stripped of flesh to the bone and the matter would be spread in the forests at the base of their mountain homes. The bones would then be ground to powder and mixed with the milk of new mothers and drank with song and festival.

Two more tribes would be formed in time, the first from the Thunder Tribe who had grown weary of living in the darkness of night for they felt this dishonored the God who had created them for they desecrated the Dark the Hushed One moved through. Those of the Sun and Moon Tribe would move further inland and make their lives in the canopies of the great Jungles of Hoklo and would pick one Youth who could display great power in the songs that shaped the world and one who could live within the trees without touching the earth below for a month. These two Sages would be known as the Young Sun Sage and Young Moon Sage and they would find commonality between themselves before shaping the Tribe through their wills. These Two Sages were given only one voice in the Confederacy, and the Sun Tribe would live half the Year as the Sun Tribe and the other half as the Moon Tribe which caused their brothers and sisters to view them with distrust. Little is spoken of their funerary rites or the preservation of the older generations, for the Sun and Moon Tribe felt speaking of such to those not within their holds would disgrace the names of their people.

The Final Tribe spun out from the Exiles of the other tribes, for though the Elves could not fathom in those days that an Elf might take the life of another Elf they had laws and visions and refused to keep those who sought to create disharmony within the fledgling lands. So a land was provided, a great lake with many islands was given over to the Exiled and each was permitted to rule over these dots of land as they so desired. The Tribe would be known as The Lost Tribe and their Sage would be chosen as one who could wrangle the multitude to his will. These Young Lost Sages rarely kept power long and many of the other Tribes feared the day the Lake Peoples as they were also called would find one who could unite the fractured peoples.

But that is enough of the Elves for more could be said of a people who could say so much of the world. For the songs that shaped the world was the purview of the Elven Tribes and it was in these early days that the Mages as many might call them rose to prominence for even the Young Sages viewed these works of the songs with honor and reverence and they found commonality even beyond the Tribes that divided them. They too would meet with one another and craft great works for the betterment of their race for it was decided long ago by The Hushed One that the more Narrators, as they called themselves in the Elven Tongue, could weave greater works than when they were alone. They sung the homes out of the trees that the Thunder and Sun Tribes made their homes. Spoke to the Caves of the Frost Tribe made their homes in to give forth more space in which they could grow and would tame the waves so the crude homes of the Wave Tribe would not be swept away by the uncaring sea.


Form Nation: The Elven Confederacy (100% Elf) - 1 AP

Create Concept: Writing -1 AP

Advance Age: Elves to the Bronze Age -1 AP

3 AP from Roll Over

1+1+1 AP=3 AP -3 AP= 0 AP

[bryn0528]

Jukovak wakes up in a single form - something that he is not usually comfortable in - and with the world's first hangover. The pain was glorious. It spoke of broken memories and frightful activities in the night before. He will be glad when the creatures of the world experience its wonder with him. He shifted, groggily - his skin slightly rippling - the song birds and serpents within waiting to burst out of confinement. He looked at the gnomes - and procured out of nothing a bowl of beer which he held with both of his hands.

You're new! Will you have a drink with me?

There is a small pause of amazement at such simple divine ledgermain, and then a muttered chorus of concerned looks and whispers amongst the throng of simple Gnomish farmers. A rather broad male took the forefront to speak to the still unknown Jukovak (not that Gnomes don't know of the deity, quite the opposits as he is one of the few whom they refer to by his actual name and not as an equivalent). His tone is even and down-to-earth, but carries a weariness. "Now is not the time for drink, stranger," he responded in Gnomish. "There has been a death, and a very serious matter of concern." He frowned, the lines of his face thick and heavy. "Stranger, do you submit to your crimes willingly?"

[mystic1110]

The deer headed man looked at the assembled throng of gnomes. He looked down into the bowl of beer he held in his hands. Even now he could see the blood in the beer - a sort of reddish shadow. This was the other side of merriment - the punishment afterwards. For what he taught was that Joy was a Crime, for if it was not it would never reach its delirious promise. The best revels were those forbidden, dark and secret - happiness stolen away from the world itself. And thus, this to was true - for those who are caught must be punished - and punished severely. What God would he be if he did not suffer his own creed? The God stood up, much taller than any gnome, the ceiling strangely accommodating his unnatural height. He took the bowl and drank deeply from its drought. Once empty he placed the bowl gently on the ground.

His voice was grave.

Yes children, I do.

[bryn0528]

The gathering flinched as the godling stood, but determination brought them back forth with a sad and hardy light in their eyes. The head gnome spoke again, "Then let it be known." A female in the back of the group stepped out through a door of the small space--a wooden outpost, used to store dried grasses reaped from their pastures--and she hurried to the nearest messenger's station, where word would be passed to the nearest hold, Gjaarhaus. Guild law was strict, but largely self regulated. The stranger would be noted in a ledger of criminals, along with his crime and his punishment. In a few days, just long enough to prepare a response, and a justiciar would visit to confirm the arrest and conviction. Only serious crimes required such a formality, of which murder is one.

The gnomish man began to speak again, aftr the door shut again. "I do not know how much you know of our ways, stranger, but the Guild demands equivalent payment for crimes. You have taken a life from us, and it is a life that you must give back." Was this an order of execution? Each gnome here has brought a hard length of iron-shod baton, hanging from his or her respective belt loop. The gnome speaks heavily, burdened by the whole troublesome affair. "You are to work the fields alongside your kinsman, for a lifetime. Forty yearsnto till the fields and harvest the crops each season. It is back-breaking labour and you will be expected to sacrifice sweat and tears for the cause, just as we do." He extended his hand to the standing man with a deer's head. The offer is cordial, but not welcoming. "You shall offer your life to be Gjaarfolk. We do not trust you, but this is your penance and it will absolve you of your sin and your crime."

[mystic1110]

The god bowed his head at the sentence, he grabbed the gnomes hand - their hands oddly the same size, perspective becoming warped in the presence of Jukovak. It seemed like he was resigned to his fate, but then smiled mischievously.

And to whom do you offer your sweat and tears?

[bryn0528]

"We offer it to the land, and to ourselves."

[Toxic Mind]

The Revel Lord opens its mouth (mouths?!?) to speak, likely some other veiled threat or proclamation of its own superiority. Yara would never tell, and the world would never know, for no breath passed through lips to form speach. Yara had heard enough. Such insolence. Such arrogance. It would be, Must be, punished.

For the animals of the forest, the fight would be no surprise. They knew well the Huntress and her ferocity, and even now, generations from the first Hunt, stories were told as warning and remembrance. Part fear, part awe. Perhaps some gods would see. Perhaps a cloud had passed by, or a shadow on the floor, or the Rays of the dawn would shine on the battlefield. Still, it was a fight that would be told, for stories are almost always thus.

It began and ended with the arrogance of that particular revel lord. For arrogance is blind to the folly of itself, and so this amalgem could not see beyond itself to truly know what was to befall it. Let it never be said, however, that the revel lord did not fight well. For though it was made of prey, it was no foundling, and had real power. The first strike was crippling. Standard tactics from stealth. Yara hamstrung its legs so that it could not walk or run, nothing more than a ripple marking her passing. It was only then that the Revel Lord truly realized what danger he was in. Yet in its arrogance, he thought only of defeating this usurper to its throne.

The Lord took to his wings, flying above, and struck back. Mist seeps into the room, blanketing the floor. And the mist ripples as Yara moves through it, for she is merely hidden from sight, not immaterial. And the Lord, flying above, fires blast of energy at the shape in the mist. Yara howls as her hide burns. The fur ripples to its true black, and Yara begins to run. She bounces off pillars, double back, almost faster than any eye could see. Almost. Outside the fortress, the Revel Lord could not have followed her, but here it drew power from the fortress itself, being unchallenged in this domain. The bolts flew still, more powerful now that the Lord had seen that he could harm this interloper.

It might have ended there, but this Lord had never bothered to learn the true nature of his adversary, and so could not know that he was uniquely ill-suited against Yara. For where there is mist there is water, and where there is water there can be ice. The bolts fell upon Yara, and she dodged with feline grace. As each struck the floor inches from her person, they shook the sky, and the mortal races would look up in wonder and fright at what might be the cause of such horrific sounds. And then, Yara found herself cornered. A smile appears on the Lord's face and he fires a massive blast. The explosion is enormous. The mist is blown into the air, and for an instant, nothing can be seen. Then, out of the mist, a winged Yara, unharmed, bursts. A shield of ice, formed of the very mist that might have spelled her doom, giving her a momentary edge.

A moment is all the Frost Huntress needs. She is on the faux-god in an instant, all claws and teeth. The are many arms, and they grapple to keep the razor sharp instruments away from vital points. But the tail is forgotten, and with a horrific shriek, the Revel Lord's wings are torn to ribbons by the barb as it lashes, a bladed whip. It falls, heavily, Yara pinning it. She raises a paw, and it looks up at her, defiance ever in its eyes (how very unlike prey). The paw swipes down, and the truncated body lies on the floor, the head a distance away. Blood pours across the floor, spraying from severed arteries, a heart vainly trying to provide the vital liquid to a part no longer attatched.

Yara roars, a sound as frightening and primal as the thunder from the battle. "Are you pleased, Blood God?" She roars across the world. "Is this hunt not a worthy gift?"

Yara does not fear repercussions from other gods. But she leaves, for this island in the clouds is not hers, and her hunt is accomplished. Perhaps another of these petty false gods would come to avenge itself on her. That would be enjoyable. So she left the body. And the fur would regrow, but it was said that the frost huntress' side was scarred beneath her fur by the Battle of Thunder, the wound a reminder and a warning.

[mystic1110]

The deer headed man seemed to be bemused, and answered:

Then I shall do the same.

The night was dark, and it was always dark - there was no moon in those days. There were no stars to guide sailors. There were no constellations for the people of the earth to point at and to tell tales of. There were no lights in the night sky for a revel to be lit by anything that wasn't fire.

That night the man joined the gnomes on their fields and farmed alongside them. They gave him a wide berth, for he was a criminal and to them a mysterious godling. He assured them that he will labor for forty years, and to bind his promise he crafted from their words a chain of iron and shackled himself to their laws. The chains were a lie - the god could leave at anytime and his promises mean nothing, unless he had made an offer for a gift. But strangely he adhered to his pact. He labored under the sun that first night, sweating profusely, his muscled form shining in the light. The sweat he offered to the land, as the gnomes said he should, and the land was bountiful.

He then offered his own sweat to himself, as the gnomes said he should, and he was refreshed in his labor. Perhaps that was why when the gnomes tired and went to their homes at dusk, the deer god stayed in the fields. The gnome elder, told him, that his punishment was just a lifetime, and lifetime meant sleep - but the god shook his head and said that he would stay awake and live twice for the life he had taken. The elder left, shaking head head at the strangeness. The godling, left alone, continued to till the fields and offer them his sweat. He heard the cries of Yara, but paid them no heed - for while he was the god of blood, right now he was the god of sweat, and blood could wait while he labored. He grinned while he worked, for he did not cry - tears were a gift that Ratameeko owed him, and he would not give them to himself.

But as night deepened, Jukovak could not see the fields. Night was total darkness, expect for the odd flame from inside a home. And thus, when Jukovak tilled the fields he lifted the vegetables that he had planted during the day - full grown due to his sweat. But the sweat of the god does not lead to carrots and potatoes - instead the vegetables glowed bright and lit up the entire fields. Jukovak hung them in the sky, and continued working.

The next night, the gnomes pointed into the sky and saw the first stars. They looked at the godling busy in his labors in the field, and said nothing. Over the years, the stars multiplied, for each night Jukovak placed more vegetables in the sky. Over the years, the gnomes (and other races) began to tell stories of about the stars, for Jukovak arranged the vegetables into reflections of the stories of the world. One might had been the meeting of night and dawn, the other the hubris of a Revel Lord, another the murder which led to Alcohol, and yet another merely one of Yara's hunts.

For forty years he labored, and the gnomes died and gave birth around him - and then he was gone - and the labor of the Deer headed god became yet another constellation the gnomes would tell their children.

AP 3
AP 1: Boon the fields of the Gnomes - they will forever be bountiful due to the sweat of Jukovak offered to them.
AP 2: Create stars and constellations. No Moon yet.
AP 0:

[bryn0528]

A feeble candlelight illuminated the failing figure of an elderly gnome. Once, he had been the patriarch of the hamlet here, an hour's brisk walk from Gjaarhaus' main hall, but in time he passed the title to his eldest daughter. "I've watched you work," he said to the empty room. "Everyday and every night. Everyone was afraid, at first, at what kind of demon you must have been to work so dilligently. You could have left at any time, but you put so much work into it. We know you now, better than ever before. We called your name before... but now the stories are different, your stories are different. Of all the gods we name; Mykal, Juthar whom the Wolven call Huntress, Yggdrasil in the forest, Jaboledd who speaks in meter and lives in the sea, Kjaal who brings the sun, Haan who crafted the stiries of the world... of these gods only you, Jukovak," here he spoke the name in a rattling cough because it had been years since he spoke it last. "You are the only god who has ever changed its nature."


Forty years... a generation. It had quite a way of changing things, with the passage of time. Before, it was spoken of the alchemy of time, transmuting past into the future. And now, there is nothing else in the world like the Guild, because it continues to march on in the presence of time. To live on the lands outside of Guild sanction is simply primitive by most standards. The seven holds of Juthardul claim every luxury the world has to offer, and a full generation of nothing but profits. With the night sky ablaze in the darkness, there is more oppertunity, more success. Nothing even stymies the Guild, the world continues to provide, and so life does blossom and flourish.

It was three months too late for the Guild to even begin prepartions. Almost overnight, their lands became too populated. Too many gnomes lived in the cities and the surrounding lands. The Guild produced well, but still mouths went unfed. Corruption in the higher tiers kept constant disparity between the classes. A once well-oiled machine fell apart to politics and social games. The Guild became divided over the years, to those who owned and those who did not. Poverty flourished and some gnomes became so poor they ceased to own their freedom. A smaller and smaller class gre wealthier and wealthier.

Disease entered the cities for the first time. With so much overcrowding, filth became commonplace, and once readily available treatments were hoarded away by the greedy aristocrats. Had the Guild wider eyes, then they would have seen the first deaths before, and been able to staunch the outbreak before it even began. Though things did not work out that way, and it seemed Jukovak's gifts came with a price.


A small mushroom man stepped forward from the shadows and listened to the dying breath of an elderly gnome. He does not know if the deer-headed man was here, listening to one last prayer, but Mylal was. He stood over the body and cradled the smallest of lights in his palms. He tried, once before, to explain this to Yara, but such was not her domain. Only his, it seemed. He cradled the life gently in his tiny hands, and plucked it from the lifeless body like one might pick a low-hanging apple. He turned upwards, to the starry sky which suddenly expanded before him, though only moments before had been covered with a wooden roof. He smiled and shed a silver tear, because briefly in that moment, the world was full of beauty.

(Advance Age, the Guild into the Dark Ages). -1
TOTAL AP REMAINING, 2.

[squidpope]

Rizzit watched the stars as they appeared one by one in heaven. They were a beautiful thing, soloumn and simple yet fiilled with an unrivaled beauty. He found himself on his knees weeping from the beauty of the sky, the sand at his feet clumping together from his tears. He wondered if He-of-Reflections wound know of his crying. It was a matter of little consequence, for a visit from another god would be cherished and celebrated, for Rizzit was lonely. Even his creations had abandoned him- he had not seen a single one of them since he had created them. It was a vast desert, certainly, but they had been made able to wander endlessly, surely he would have come across one since then.

It was just at that moment a sound was heard; quiet at first, but then slowly rising into a cacophony of voices blending together into a song. Not a joyous song, as the Shards typically sung, but a low, mournful song that spoke of sorrow and longing. Wiping the lingering tears from his eyes, The Bound God crept up the side of the dune to see what was happening, and saw before him hundreds of Shards all moving slowly through the desert. Rizzet yelled to them

"Hello!?"

The singing stopped, the music of the Shards disappearing all at once as thousands of eyes turned to the god. It was in this silence they stayed until Rizzit spoke again.

"Why do you sing such a melancholy song? Did I not make you for more than that? You are not hungry, for you have no need to eat. You do not tire, for you need not sleep. You need not a house, for you were made to endure even the harshest climates. What is it that sorrows you?"

There was no response. Rizzit had of course created the Shards, but he had only made seven. All the others had come into being without him, and did not know him. A sphere in the front began to thrum, and soon the rest of the Shard began to thrum to it. The low, steady rhythm spread through the crowd, and soon they began to drag themselves through the desert again on their journey to some place unknown, the thrumming becoming the same melancholy melody that was heard before. Rizzit followed them from a distance, utterly perplexed by these actions.


Elsewhere in the desert, a blasphemous figure paced atop a growing monument of sandstone. All around him, the sounds of construction could be heard as Shards dragged blocks up and down what would eventually be a temple. While the Revel lords were all made together, they were not the same. His brothers were foolish, incapable of thinking with any forethought, content to sit where they were until they died. He was not so. His fault was not hubris, pride led to clouded judgement. Nor did he enjoy the orgies that his brother under the see thought of as so grand. No, what he had was ambition. He would be proud, yes, but not until he was in a place of power. He would celebrate, yes, but not until his place was secure. Revels are sacred, and to waste time constantly in them was heretical to the nature of them. For a revel was a departure from life, not life itself. For now he waited for his temple to be complete. Several Shards dragged a thrashing body of a infant sand worm, and revel lord of the desert split the still living thing open with a sharp claw, bathing in the sweet blood as it pulsed out of the screaming creature. When the creature stopped convulsing, the Shards took the body and moved it to the back of the construction site, mindlessly eviscerating it and using the gore as mortar, just as they were told to.




6/6 AP (from last rollover)
-1 AP: Music- Music and the song are one of the most important ways of communication among the Shards, and they create it almost constantly. This ought to have gone in the previous post, but I was in a rush then.
-1 AP: Masonry- Under the direction of the Revel Lord, the Shards have learned to create massive stone structures. This is largely superfluous, as they don't need shelter, but the sturdiness and ascetics of Shard buildings are unrivaled.
-1 AP: form organization(?) Religion - The Shards worship the revel lord as a god king, with a highly organized caste system attending to his every whim and working tirelessly for him. They do not realize he is evil, or if they do, simply do not think it is there place to upset authority.
-1 advance age: Stone age ---> Bronze age
2/6 AP left
AP

[bryn0528]

When the Mycons ceased to exist, and the noble gnome born into their place, some instead became abominations. It was not some choice, but a predisposition within their fungal hearts. The Guild shunned these hideous transformations and left them exposed to the elements in hope of their deaths. Scorned by the world, these goblins lived like wild beasts, deep under the dark canopy of Yara's forests, in the places left forgotten by civilized folk. They clawed barrows and warrens into the earth, they built nests in the trees. Goblins roamed the land, hunting with an unnatural zeal and perverse glee.

Goblins, like the Mycons they once were and unlike the new gnomes, came in many different shapes and sizes and there were over a dozen names for each. Cruel imps were shrunken and shriveled but had sharp wings and devilish impositions; the piskies are small also, but strangely attractive and had a fondness of luring travelers from the road. Kobolds are the most feral, and live like packs of wild dogs without ever once raising from all-fours. Goblins are perhaps tricky and crafty, and on a good day one might even say down-right clever, but no one would ever call a goblin intelligent, but least of all the dim-witted boggarts known to eat anything and who grew to the sizes of small trees. Redcaps looked the most like Mycons still, with their bloody mushroom heads, but their sharp claws cut like scissors and went snicker-snack in the darkness of night. Brownies looked like shrunken gnomes but with needle-teeth, the dark furred pooka who runs its quarry down and swallows it whole, the brutish ogre and trolls (the former without tail and the latter with, but no other appropriate differences between the two) who smashed trees for funnand feared sunlight. These and still more: hobgoblins and lutins, sprites and spriggans, duendes, ghouls, orcs, and wights. They come in so many shapes it is impossible to catalog them all: those that look like reptiles or toads, those covered in dark hair... Even more goblins are unique and one of a kind: Jenny Swampteeth, who lives in a sunken basin and is regarded as a witch; Robin Tomfe is an oversized dunter who wanders the woods with a pike staff to beat his victims to the ground before eating them.

The first to find of the wretched goblins is unsurprisingly their former bretheren. The Guild attempted to catalog the goblins as best they could, and to drive them away with their alchemy. Ultimately, the cities of the Guild proved to resistant for the goblins, though the smaller fiefs still suffered occassional hit and run tactics. Wolven too felt the sting of goblin teeth, as the Gnomes drove them farther away from Juthardul. Less defensible, goblin raids easily plundered the Wolven villages (though at great losses to themselves, for the Wolven were much more cunning despite goblin depravity). The World-Tree was beyond goblin grasps, and illusion magic tricked them beyond all else. Still, the animals had to be safe and stick to the roads, especially at night, lest a horde of angry, hungry teeth ambushed the lonesome soul. Goblins spread like a chancre, digging into mines on the mountains, or forraying into the desert (not even Shards were safe from hunting bands of goblins). Some even took to the water, swimming west onto the shores of Hoklo (Berskjerhaus, a hold on the western shores or the Hunting fields, and not part of Juthardul, called these selkies which were not seen back east). Those goblins in the jungles of the new world took on even stanger shapes: ape-like things, carnivorous plants, shambling moundsnof detris... perhaps the elves could name these awful creations, for the gnomes had not yet landed on Hoklo in those days.

Goblins were, despite their many shapes, dark and feral creatures deep within their twisted hearts. Though perhaps crafty or tricky (as aforementioned), goblins are not intelligent or civilized folk. They did not live in proper homes nor wear fashions (some even lucky to wear clothing at all). They ate dead things and living things and things that were never alive to begin with (how many wolven lost a good bow by leaving it out at night, just to have the spriggans chew it into sawdust?). Occasionally they would get trapped into the Wolven's snares, but most of the time they would simply eat their traps, thinking it an offering left for them. Most goblins fought with tooth and nail, but some fashioned clubs out or broken branches (bearing no resemblance to the fine lacquered and iron-shod batons preferred by gnomes) or simply threw rocks. Goblins knew none of the Guild's secret formulas for their near mythical potions and oils and balms, the goblins did practice some of the darker arts of alchemy left behind at the dawn of time (their only keepsake to the days before of being a Mycon, the first gift which Mykal delivered them, when the Mycon lived not much different than the goblins did now).

Goblin raids on the Guild holds eventually proved to be a factor for the coming plague and subsequent stumble in Guild policy. However, it is this unified enemy which eventually will rally the Guild, as a whole, for better quality of living. For now, there is simply a tinkerer in Babishaus, working in his dark workshop. One day, he will change the world, or at least the Guild, but for now we simply let him work.

"Oh bugger... I jammed up the thingamijigger again. Hans! Fetch me some more doodads!"

[mystic1110]

Rizzit watched the stars as they appeared one by one in heaven. They were a beautiful thing, soloumn and simple yet fiilled with an unrivaled beauty. He found himself on his knees weeping from the beauty of the sky, the sand at his feet clumping together from his tears. He wondered if He-of-Reflections wound know of his crying. It was a matter of little consequence, for a visit from another god would be cherished and celebrated, for Rizzit was lonely. Even his creations had abandoned him- he had not seen a single one of them since he had created them. It was a vast desert, certainly, but they had been made able to wander endlessly, surely he would have come across one since then.

It was just at that moment a sound was heard; quiet at first, but then slowly rising into a cacophony of voices blending together into a song. Not a joyous song, as the Shards typically sung, but a low, mournful song that spoke of sorrow and longing. Wiping the lingering tears from his eyes, The Bound God crept up the side of the dune to see what was happening, and saw before him hundreds of Shards all moving slowly through the desert. Rizzet yelled to them

"Hello!?"

The singing stopped, the music of the Shards disappearing all at once as thousands of eyes turned to the god. It was in this silence they stayed until Rizzit spoke again.

"Why do you sing such a melancholy song? Did I not make you for more than that? You are not hungry, for you have no need to eat. You do not tire, for you need not sleep. You need not a house, for you were made to endure even the harshest climates. What is it that sorrows you?"

There was no response. Rizzit had of course created the Shards, but he had only made seven. All the others had come into being without him, and did not know him. A sphere in the front began to thrum, and soon the rest of the Shard began to thrum to it. The low, steady rhythm spread through the crowd, and soon they began to drag themselves through the desert again on their journey to some place unknown, the thrumming becoming the same melancholy melody that was heard before. Rizzit followed them from a distance, utterly perplexed by these actions.

After his labors of farming the stars in the sky Jukovak burst from the form he held for forty years. After being constrained for so long he took the form of pure fancy. Oh he journeyed as emotion before, he conversed with other gods as merely a feeling; but now he was disparate notes in the air. He was neither an animal or a feeling - he was something in between. He was no singular or multiple but neither and both. In short - he couldn't decide. For the elderly gnome was correct in away - Jukovak did in fact change his nature for those forty years. For while punishment - the edge of law was part and parcel of the Revel, actually adhering to the law was not. And so after placing the stars in the sky - after laboring for so long Jukovak wanted to do what he wanted everyone to do. To enjoy life! To party! To south the working day with depravity! And since he worked for forty years, he would dance for forty more. He was ever a mercurial god - but that was his mystery. He could change. But changes were not easy and they must be reflected back onto themselves. Scholars later would write of him can categorize him as a god of law - for he was. Chaotic . . . true. . . but the chaos was carefully balanced on the mirrors edge.

And thus for forty years Jukovak raged. He didn't rage in the sense of rage - but in the sense of a desperate attempt to live two lives of excess in the span of one. It is probably around this time that he began to become known to the elves. The generation of elves born underneath the stars would grow up with hushed clearings that called them in the middle of the night - the clearings would be empty of course expect for themselves and a clear pool of water in the center that reflected everything with perfect clarity. An elf would sing a song to another. Or recite a poem. That was how it started. Perhaps later, lovers would carry their secret affairs in the woods surrounding these mysterious and ever changing clearings. Needless to say during the day the clearing would be just a clearing - the pool of water gone - the elves, embarrassed, would not speak of the starlight and the bonfire. Jukovak didn't give them any gifts. He didn't bless them or create any circumstance of true wonder. But nonetheless the hidden excess of the Revel God spoke to the elves, and they listened.

Even the gnomes - when they spoke of the labors of the Deer God, saw the goblins gathering for hidden rituals in the woods, and knew that they danced with Jukovak. They drank blood and dressed in skins of talking animals, and gnome children. For that was Jukovak too.

And during these years of utter abandon Jukovak found himself in the desert. He was feverish with excitement - he need to celebrate freedom. He needed to. And one can not celebrate by himself. Thus when he saw the glass tower and the countless chains which were wrapped around it holding their god captive he ran, slithered, flew, crawled and leaped towards it. The chains lefts prints in the sand, and they were, all things considering, slack. Their god was far away from the tower - trying to follow his Shards as they walked towards the beat of one of the Revel Lords.

Jukovak in his varied form recognized the other god from the meeting of night and dawn. He grabbed the chains which held him and rattled them, altering the other god to his presence. He was manic and spoke in rushed sentences - the mirth bottled up for forty years (a short time for a god, but a long time not to pay homage to pleasure.

Brother brother! Let me free you, and we can drink till we vomit out a desert. We can sing till we make another land! We can then dance till it all burns down!

[Lizard Lord]

Ratameeko landed on the ground after gliding down from the Castle of the Dawn. He knew he had not much time before the revel lord would cease to distract Yara and thus he moved quickly. He had gathered as many animals that Jukovak had stolen from as possible. He even felt sympathy for predators that had been robbed in such a way. Though for them he said that he would take their teeth and and they would need to promise to give up the life of a hunter in exchange for saving them. Predators that refused (which where many of them) he would leave where they laid. He would not invite predators to his fold no matter their misfortune.

The animals he gathered he took to the World Tree. Leaving them inside the King of the Greatest Animals then climbed to the top of tree and plucked several seeds from it branches. He placed the seeds on the severed stumps of Jukovak's victims. The seeds grow quickly into leafless trees the size and shape of the limps that had been taken. Only, it would seem, that these trees would move and bend at the will of the one they grew on. Furthermore forelegs and wings that were made this way had branches that could be used to grasp objects. The restored animals were welcomed into the Nation of the Forrest should they wish to join.

However the World Tree is a busy hub and shelter for the Nation of the Forrest and there were many who had seen these events unfold. Suddenly they too wanted these miracle seeds. Those that could climbed or flew to the top of the tree to obtain these seeds. Those that could not reach the top of the World Tree, and did not want to be left behind, purchased the seeds from those who could reach them with a a portion of their horde.

Not even taking their armor off these animals planted the seeds on their chest, but instead of growing on them it grow around them and absorbed the armor into themselves. These plants could be worn as if they were armor and when worn they would grow fully around the wearer and form more humanoid legs and arms around the wearers own limbs allowing the animals to walk around and manipulate tools as the gnomes do.


3 Ap

-1 Alter Race- Half-Trees, animals that have lost limbs and had their limbs replaced with living wooden ones.

-2 Create Supernatural concept: Wooden Exoskeletons.

Remaining AP: 0

[squidpope]

Rizzit watched the stars as they appeared one by one in heaven. They were a beautiful thing, soloumn and simple yet fiilled with an unrivaled beauty. He found himself on his knees weeping from the beauty of the sky, the sand at his feet clumping together from his tears. He wondered if He-of-Reflections wound know of his crying. It was a matter of little consequence, for a visit from another god would be cherished and celebrated, for Rizzit was lonely. Even his creations had abandoned him- he had not seen a single one of them since he had created them. It was a vast desert, certainly, but they had been made able to wander endlessly, surely he would have come across one since then.

It was just at that moment a sound was heard; quiet at first, but then slowly rising into a cacophony of voices blending together into a song. Not a joyous song, as the Shards typically sung, but a low, mournful song that spoke of sorrow and longing. Wiping the lingering tears from his eyes, The Bound God crept up the side of the dune to see what was happening, and saw before him hundreds of Shards all moving slowly through the desert. Rizzet yelled to them

"Hello!?"

The singing stopped, the music of the Shards disappearing all at once as thousands of eyes turned to the god. It was in this silence they stayed until Rizzit spoke again.

"Why do you sing such a melancholy song? Did I not make you for more than that? You are not hungry, for you have no need to eat. You do not tire, for you need not sleep. You need not a house, for you were made to endure even the harshest climates. What is it that sorrows you?"

There was no response. Rizzit had of course created the Shards, but he had only made seven. All the others had come into being without him, and did not know him. A sphere in the front began to thrum, and soon the rest of the Shard began to thrum to it. The low, steady rhythm spread through the crowd, and soon they began to drag themselves through the desert again on their journey to some place unknown, the thrumming becoming the same melancholy melody that was heard before. Rizzit followed them from a distance, utterly perplexed by these actions.

After his labors of farming the stars in the sky Jukovak burst from the form he held for forty years. After being constrained for so long he took the form of pure fancy. Oh he journeyed as emotion before, he conversed with other gods as merely a feeling; but now he was disparate notes in the air. He was neither an animal or a feeling - he was something in between. He was no singular or multiple but neither and both. In short - he couldn't decide. For the elderly gnome was correct in away - Jukovak did in fact change his nature for those forty years. For while punishment - the edge of law was part and parcel of the Revel, actually adhering to the law was not. And so after placing the stars in the sky - after laboring for so long Jukovak wanted to do what he wanted everyone to do. To enjoy life! To party! To south the working day with depravity! And since he worked for forty years, he would dance for forty more. He was ever a mercurial god - but that was his mystery. He could change. But changes were not easy and they must be reflected back onto themselves. Scholars later would write of him can categorize him as a god of law - for he was. Chaotic . . . true. . . but the chaos was carefully balanced on the mirrors edge.

And thus for forty years Jukovak raged. He didn't rage in the sense of rage - but in the sense of a desperate attempt to live two lives of excess in the span of one. It is probably around this time that he began to become known to the elves. The generation of elves born underneath the stars would grow up with hushed clearings that called them in the middle of the night - the clearings would be empty of course expect for themselves and a clear pool of water in the center that reflected everything with perfect clarity. An elf would sing a song to another. Or recite a poem. That was how it started. Perhaps later, lovers would carry their secret affairs in the woods surrounding these mysterious and ever changing clearings. Needless to say during the day the clearing would be just a clearing - the pool of water gone - the elves, embarrassed, would not speak of the starlight and the bonfire. Jukovak didn't give them any gifts. He didn't bless them or create any circumstance of true wonder. But nonetheless the hidden excess of the Revel God spoke to the elves, and they listened.

Even the gnomes - when they spoke of the labors of the Deer God, saw the goblins gathering for hidden rituals in the woods, and knew that they danced with Jukovak. They drank blood and dressed in skins of talking animals, and gnome children. For that was Jukovak too.

And during these years of utter abandon Jukovak found himself in the desert. He was feverish with excitement - he need to celebrate freedom. He needed to. And one can not celebrate by himself. Thus when he saw the glass tower and the countless chains which were wrapped around it holding their god captive he ran, slithered, flew, crawled and leaped towards it. The chains lefts prints in the sand, and they were, all things considering, slack. Their god was far away from the tower - trying to follow his Shards as they walked towards the beat of one of the Revel Lords.

Jukovak in his varied form recognized the other god from the meeting of night and dawn. He grabbed the chains which held him and rattled them, altering the other god to his presence. He was manic and spoke in rushed sentences - the mirth bottled up for forty years (a short time for a god, but a long time not to pay homage to pleasure.

Brother brother! Let me free you, and we can drink till we vomit out a desert. We can sing till we make another land! We can then dance till it all burns down!

"Dear brother, I am afraid today is not the day." Rizzit continued to lurch after the mass of Shards moving through the desert to an unknown destination. "I doubt any day will be the day, to be honest. I find your style of celebration a bit too... stimulating for me. However, It is certainly not today. Do you not see this procession before us? do you not hear the sadness in their voice? My people were once simple, contented creatures. Now they only despair, wishing they were not made so sturdy that they might die sooner. Listen." The singing and thrumming of the marching Shards perforated the air around them, low, sorrowful chords and melancholy rhythms casting a shadow of misery under the blistering desert sun. "Brother, I am at a loss for how to help my people, for I do not even know their ailment!"

At this Rizzit paused, thinking. "Perhaps in that you could help. I am... slow. I cannot move with the speed or grace of you. If you would be so kind as to go ahead of this deathmarch, tell me what dark force has a hold of my people, I would be forever indebted to you. I know I have not done much to ask for your kindness, but I swear by the new stars above I will repay it to you. I will say here with my people, to ensure no ill befalls them."

----Elsewhere in the desert----

The five Shards that had been sent out last month returned with their quarry. They were not hunters, not in the slightest, but what they lacked in tooth and claw they made up for with persistence. Having no need to sleep or eat, they could relentlessly pursue their targets, waiting until they were exhausted and then simply dragging them back home to the now completed city. They always brought their prey back alive, as that was what their god-king asked for. As the approached the throne room, two guards stepped aside for them to pass. The guards were not so much for protection, as they were no stronger than any other Shard, but they kept the wolf tribe of the desert from trying to enter the god-kings chamber. Dropping the rough burlap bag in front of the Revel Lord they called liege, they bowed down as they presented their capture. For a while in silence they stayed like that, their master's grotesque eyes staring straight at it until a small movement was seen inside the sack and three goblins crawled their way out. They immediately began to bicker before they caught sight of the abominable creature on a throne made of a sandworms skull, at which point they ceased talking and began to beg.

"PLEASE don't eat me!" the first cried on his knees.

"I promise I'm not tasty," the second said as he bowed repeatedly.

"I haven't showered in weeks!" spoke the last, his voice trembling.

"SILENCE." the Shard by the throne spoke, its voices all low basses and dark baritones. "Are you the ones that attacked our workers the other day?"

"No! Not me! It was him that cut the rope!" Cried the first as he pointed to the second.

"It was his idea!" said the second as he pointed to the third

"I thought it was funny." Shrugged the third, who had now accepted that he was going to die and now began to giggle at the way the worker had fallen from the hanging platform.

"SILENCE." The Shard by the throne spoke again, and the quiet returned the throne room until the Revel Lord began to chuckle. He nodded to the Shard by his throne, who grabbed a whip from the wall and presented it to the trio of goblins.

"THE GOD KING HAS CHOSEN YOU TO DO HIS WORK. YOU WILL SERVE HIM UNTIL YOUR DEATH.

This is how they say the first slave drivers of the city were born. They were always goblin, appointed over anywhere from 4 to 70 shards at a time, each one tasked to ensure the Shards did not escape or stop working. Under these slave drivers, the city expanded even more rapidly. The city became a sight to behold, grand stone avenues leading all the way up to the soaring towers of the Revel Lords palace. At twilight, the blood in the mortar between the stones would catch the light, and the whole city would be consumed with lines of crimson and scarlet running across its many avenues and gates. This is how the city of Bloodstone got its name.

2AP+3AP=5AP

-1 Create concept: Slavery- the Revel Lord has appointed Goblins to... supervise... the Shards. While not always the most diligent workers, their natural affinity for causing misery is particulaly good at keeping order among the Shards that refuse to worship the Revel Lord and forced to work on beautifying the city.
-1 Create organization: The city of Bloodstone: The quintessential fantasy desert metropolis sprawling out in front of the Palace and temple of the Revel Lord. It is characterized by huge streets with high towers and walls throughout the city. At sundown, the cracks in between the stone glow a bright red. The Desert Tribe of Wolfen is welcome everywhere but the temple unless they are there to praise the god king of the city
POPULATION:
15% Goblins
80% Shards
5% Wolfen and other unknown agents.
-1 Advance Age. Bronze age> Iron Age

2/3AP left

[bryn0528]

From the workshops of Babishaus, a merchant-artisan sells his wares. Like a majority of the gnomes, he is part of the well-to-do middle class who enjoy the perks of both commonfolk and minor aristocracy (as long as their business continued to trade well). The dark times were already beginning to pass, with the Guild stepping up and eridicating city filth and disease with their well-managed civic programs, and the former corruption (and subsequent division of wealth) quickly disappearing into the normalcy of gnomish equality. Some issues still exists, and some merchants still perform better than others, but life is good for the holds of the Guild.

A typical shop in any city usually consists of a two storey building, with the business operating out of the ground floor and the upper floor reserved for personal quarters (nearly all businesses are operated in neat familial units). There are variations, of course; Gjaarhaus with its hillhomes in the flatlands and tiered stone forts in the high foothills, is not typically known to build up, so the resedential floor is usually below the shop floor, where it is drier and warmer beneath the earth. Farther south, where the weather is consistently decent year round and prone to more months without snow than those with, shops have outdoor counters to vend from, rather than have someone enter the building at all, and shifting markets are common affairs in the city centers and major crossroads in the open country.

The Guild issues trade with specially marked stone disks. Early trade was exclusively barter, and a great deal of business is still condcted the same way, but issuing coinage seemed a more effective way for those to trade among different circles (you simply passed coin from hand to hand, rather than having to search for a specific merchant to find what you need). The Guild attempted minting coins in valuable metals and even common metals, but gnomes were not particularly known for their metallurgy and typically lived in mineral-poor areas. The gnomish process of leeching minerals was also highly toxic and unable to be mass-produced without serious health consequences (and only produced brittle metals, at best). Besides, most of the Guild's major holds bordered the oceans and the salty air rusted iron coins after just a season. Instead, coins are mined from the soft-stone quarries in the northern hold of Nthandhaus, where they are also polished and lacquered in alchemical baths, and etched using acid stamps. The process is jealously guarded, as most Guild secrets are, with beating canes to deter snoopers and very strict punishments for counterfeiters (mummery is a charge punishable by alchemical branding, laundering warrants nothing short of execution; the Guild does not have prisons in the sense that criminals are detained, but holding areas where the condemned await punishment).

In any city among the holds, one could shop for any number of wonderous commodities. Gnomish invention never fell short, from elixirs, salves, balms, ointments, philtres, draughts, potions, and more that claimed to cure any disease, snare any heart, make any wish come true (and to a degree, even the wildest claims had a hair of truth somewhere buried beneath a salespitch) to alchemical wonders: the glass globes which produced heatless light, hearthstones that burned smokeless fire when doused with water, humble plaster walls and glass windows and colorful tile roofs. Cloth was highly valued and, after the invention of an automatic weft loom, seen in every home and closet (gnomes did not prefer to wear furs, but crafted garments from their own grown gardens and orchards and fields). Clothing of all nature became a valued market, and Guild fashions changed with each season. And still more; cuisine and produce, all manner of dyes, perfumes, and inks.

Gnomish invention eventually tipped well into the bizarre, as from the workshops of Babishaus came the first clockwork trinkets. Artifice became the new Alchemy practically overnight (of course, Alchemy always remained, just gnomes are quick to pick up on thier bretheren's inventions and then add their own unique spin on it). Whirring doodads and gizmos, finicky thingamabobs and whatchamacallits, most were whimsical in nature but others practical: crank operated cranes and springloaded carts which almost pushed themselves, locks that simply refused to be picked, timepieces more accurate than ever, and others. Businesses practically exploded with oppertunity, considering shipping was now easier than ever. The roads became ripe with highwaymen, and then caravan guards armed with "tactical weaponry" (basically an excuse for any gnome to create the most bizarre weapon: staves with weighted chains and blades, awkward pikes and billhooks with bucklers attached or parrying daggers and sometimes both, weighted crossbows that shot boomerangs or nets with iron hooks tied into them and even stranger). The concept of creating bizarre weaponry eventually settled out into seasonal and monthly contests with specially armed gladiators who could live off their winnings witg the right patron.

Things were looking up for the Guild.

Create concept, Artfice. -1
REMAINING AP 4.

Artifice is, like Alchemy, a generic skill that covers many fields (though Artifice is perhaps more generic). It essentially means the Guild (which is 99% gnome, and 99% of all gnomes belong to, which is why I exchange Guild and gnome a lot, though this will change in the soon future) builds things better than the rest of the world, unless someone has a specific concept which overrides that. For example, Guild boats are lucky to even float (but this is also due to that gnomes are awful sailors ajd don't tend their ships very well). Gnomes have and use crossbows, but Wolven bows and arrows are much more effective (as well as Wolven being better marksmen).

[Toxic Mind]

The Shards roamed further in the desert at the behest of their master, albeit somewhat unwillingly at times, and sometimes at the whips and tortures of the goblin overlords. This roaming led them inevitably into the territory of the Sandhide Pack. The Sandhide mark their territory well. Totems of rock and bone, adorned with skulls of sand wryms and other desert predators. Sandhide scouts saw the caravans of slaves. The Pack did not understand what was happening, the concept of slavery was beyond them. The misunderstanding was further exacerbated because the Shards, larger than their goblin overlords for the most part, obeyed servilely, rather than crushing the offenders underfoot. The Sandhide moved with purpose, as creatures are wont to do in the desert. They began setting traps to dissuade the invaders. Some shards were lost, though many more goblins, to pits cleverly hidden with spikes, to quicksand pits that the trails looped into rather than around.

Of course, this did not dissuade those who feared the Revel Lord more than death. And there were many in those days, for to displease Pride was to become the mortar in the stones. And the Sandhide began to be pushed back. They were ambush predators, not warriors, and against the inoxerable press of flesh and stone they had little recourse. Made worse was the fact that their claws and arrows were little effective against the rocky and crystalline hide of the shards. The Alpha of the Sandhide at that time was a female Wolven name Arash. Arash knew her position was becoming tenuous. The Sandhide had lost much, and while no one could think of a better solution, they still blamed her. She had faced two challenges this month, almost unheard of levels of unrest in the relatively placid Sandhide.

So Arash did what no other had done. She prayed. She called out to the great Huntress, to the Wolf Mother. She asked for a way to save her people. And impossibly, Yara answered. That night, as Arash slept in her den, Yara came. She padded into the sandstone cave on feet light as feathers. Arash was no fool, and awoke immediately nonetheless, knowing that something had come into her private domain, though she could not see it. And when Yara rippled into view, it was only by the scantest of margins that Arash avoided cowering in fear. The Huntress was massive next to the Wolven. That such a creature could hide from all the scouts and make its way to her den undetected was further evidence to Arash that this thing was indeed the Wolf Mother. Yara speaks little. "It is through pain that we grow. And such growth cannot be undone."

Images fill Arash's mind. A Wolven with glowing eyes picks up a rock and, with great zeal, bites down on it. Somehow, instead of shattering, his teeth carve through it easy as meat. The Wolven howls in pain as his claws becomes as stone, his pelt gray and hard as the rock he consumed, and his mind changes to the immovable sturdiness of stone. Another with the same glow eats of strange metal ores found by the Iron Wolven in the mountains. His claws become metallic and lustrous, but his gait becomes slow and while his hide is nigh impenetrable, he cannot run with his brothers and sisters. Then Arash sees these selfsame Wolven, before their transformation. They sip a strange drink, and their eyes glow. She sees a medicine woman chanting a ritual over a bowl, and into it a mixture made of a special flower, called the Huntress' Star. It grows deep in the forest, near the World Tree and the Bleeding Glacier.

When Arash awakens, Yara is gone, like some nightmare. Yet where the goddess once stood is a single flower. The Huntress' Star. And Arash can feel the ritual burned into her mind. Yara had answered.


2AP: Magical Concept - Consume and Adapt: the Wolven can, with a special ritual, activate latent genes within themselves, allowing them to take on the attributes of the next thing they consume, for good or for ill. The flower grows only near where the gods touch the earth, which for now means only near the World Tree, the Bleeding Glacier and the Desert Crystal. As of now, only the Sandhide know, and they must work with other tribes to acquire the materials.

[Lizard Lord]

A funeral was held in the world tree, though one with no body to bury. A rooster, whom was friends to many, had been killed by a wolven trap. He was found by the wolven first and the parts of him that were not eaten were used as grotesque decorations and trophies.


Ratameeko shook his head as he observed those that mourned. It brought memories forth from how things were before Ratameeko taught them that they were the greatest animals and how to use their gifts to survive. In turn it reminded him of Jukovak's request and he shook his again, this time in confusion. Why would you ask another god to make something that had always existed?

Finally a voice of righteousness spoke out crying for justice. A buck by the name of Xerxias had clamored for aid to help protect the greatest of animals, drive the predators out from the nation's borders, and to ensure that such tragedy does not happen again. He had actually gained quite a following and the group had called themselves the Guardians of the Forrest. First, however, they felt they needed their king's blessing.

Ratameeko, for his part, secretly knew he was a coward. If he was in their position he would not have the courage to stand up against the predators, just as he does not have the courage to stand up against Yara. But he would not deny his people their courage and in fact admired them for it. He gave his blessing believing that they were becoming the greatest animals that he convinced them they were.

3
-1 Create Concept: Sorrow
-1 Create Organization: Guardians of the Forrest

[mystic1110]

Jukovak smiled at the bound god.

Very well, that will be my gift to you my dear brother. When I return though I shall ask for something for myself.

And with that the god bounded towards the city of Bloodstone, the only reminder of his presence the various conflicting footprints in the sand.

----

But the Lord of the Desert wasn't the only creation of Jukovak who was building his own empire.

Below the sea the Morgoth had transformed himself (with the power of wine and his god's magic) into a beautiful woman with the tail of a fish. Moreover in the revels he bred with the other denizens of the deep - and together they became the Merfolk.

During each night people on the shore could see the stars reflected in the ocean, but they could see other wavering lights under the surface. The mysterious fires of the merfolk in their endless debauched revels. There was no society - no hierarchy - just briny anarchy.

In the air the winged monstrosity, Vurguth, had taken the vapors of ethanol and transformed into a man with six wings of ivory feathers, and muscles that gleamed in the pure black of onyx. She flew up towards the stars and stole some of them - plucking them like fruit off the vine, or more aptly vegetables from the dirt, like Jukovak did long ago. She molded the stars into men of black, plucked feathers from yet more birds, and gave them all wings. And thus angles were made.

---

Jukovak appeared in Bloodstone, appearing as a Slave Shard. A habit of his to blend in at first, till the sparrows and serpents burst from within.



AP 3:

AP 1: create race: Merfolk
AP 1: Create race: Angels
AP 1: Create society: The Celestial Orthodoxy.

[squidpope]

Jukovak smiled at the bound god.

Very well, that will be my gift to you my dear brother. When I return though I shall ask for something for myself.

And with that the god bounded towards the city of Bloodstone, the only reminder of his presence the various conflicting footprints in the sand.

----

But the Lord of the Desert wasn't the only creation of Jukovak who was building his own empire.

Below the sea the Morgoth had transformed himself (with the power of wine and his god's magic) into a beautiful woman with the tail of a fish. Moreover in the revels he bred with the other denizens of the deep - and together they became the Merfolk.

During each night people on the shore could see the stars reflected in the ocean, but they could see other wavering lights under the surface. The mysterious fires of the merfolk in their endless debauched revels. There was no society - no hierarchy - just briny anarchy.

In the air the winged monstrosity, Vurguth, had taken the vapors of ethanol and transformed into a man with six wings of ivory feathers, and muscles that gleamed in the pure black of onyx. She flew up towards the stars and stole some of them - plucking them like fruit off the vine, or more aptly vegetables from the dirt, like Jukovak did long ago. She molded the stars into men of black, plucked feathers from yet more birds, and gave them all wings. And thus angles were made.

---

Jukovak appeared in Bloodstone, appearing as a Slave Shard. A habit of his to blend in at first, till the sparrows and serpents burst from within.





As the god went Rizzit let out a sigh of contentment. If his brother was coming back, that would mean he would at least see another like him soon. Sadly, The shards were not very good company, having the inability to understand abstractions. They were tireless, yes, but poor conversationalist; and given that Rizzit could not speak to them through music, which they considered analogous to emotion, it was not going to be a fun trip. Little did Rizzit know that the city stood only 2 more days away.

There were birds in the marketplace. Snakes too. This is not incredibly unusual, and others who heard the sound would simply think a load of creatures got loose before they could be added to the mortar pit always needed replenishing. those in the bazaar saw the truth though, a Shard imploding into a wave of creatures. Several goblins who were overseeing nearby construction were so frightened they fell off a three story tall platform onto the ground below. A passing slave immediately added them to his bucket of construction materials. It was harsh, but that was how life went in the city of Bloodstone.

Having lost their directors the Shards immediately began to roam aimlessly around the bazaar, not moving in any particular place, but assuming their work was over since their slave drivers had died. One particularly curious Shard (no more curious than the average creature, but it is a rare thing in their society to wonder) attempted to catch one of the many sparrows now loitering and flittering about the market.

In the palace, the Revel Lord stood atop his throne, uneasy. He sensed something... familiar, yet peculiar. It belonged to the smell of sweat and viscera and putrid rot that always sat about the city, but it was entirely foreign to him as well. He called for his scribe. A stout goblin by the name of Kilum tottered into the room. While his spelling was atrocious, his handwriting illegible, and his manner most unsightly, he was useful to the Revel Lord. The Shards did not understand his poetry, and while the goblins were stupid creatures who barely deserved the honor of becoming the wall, they could at least understand his intentions and goals. The Revel Lord spoke, and the goblin wrote. Soon a herald would be called to distribute the news to the city: there was to be a celebration tonight, in the name of the god-king.

[bryn0528]

Of the Guild's holdings, seven have been spoken of before; the seven capitals of Juthardul on the eastern coasts of Yara's Hunting Fields (which was, ironically, mainly forests, mountains, and desert wasteland). It is not to be thought that these are the only chapterhouses in the world, or that even these are the first, only the most prestigious. On the western coasts of the hunting fields (for the gnomes lived abreast of the sea; living in the deep forests was reserved for Yara's chosen hunters and hunted, and the depraved goblins), the gnomes called this land Ratoskrdul in reverence to Ratameeko, and could be found two capital holds, Nidhogghaus and Berkejrhaus.

The northern hold, Nidhogghaus which means "root home", is connected to the east by a great road carved through the forest. The journey is long and treacherous and not often made and can take nearly two weeks to make. The road is mostly paved, yet ill-tended. There are no large towns between Nidhogghaus in the west and Lokuurhaus in the east, but occassional small villages roost in the less fearsome parts of the forest, each with small walls (perhaps more aptly called fences) of stacked stones to mark their borders. The idea of the sanctity of the road and these village borders in tantamount. No one crosses this threshold without a death wish. And for the most part, the blessings of Mykal keep safe those who travel these roads. More wayhouses, the traditional temple for the mushroom god, scatter this course than anywhere else in the guild.

The wayhouse is a simple concept; a low stone building which offers safe refuge for travelers and vagabonds. The accomodations are humble excepting in the most affluent of areas, though the civic hostels are free of charge and better than sleeping in the open, particularly during the frosty montys which dominate the year. Most wayhouses are simply erected in times of need by the Guild, and others are paid commissions by a local family seeking prestige or favor from Mykal. One of the most common punishments for the Guild to administer is forced labor, often pitting criminals into the construction of wayhouses for the pennance of Jukovak (whom the gnomes revere as a deity of justice). There are more wayhouses than there are priests or even retainers to attend to; only the largest and most frequented ever see constant curation. For the others, left abandoned in the landscape, they are hardly ever unused. Travelevrs seek their hearths, and others, sometimes little more than stone barrows, are homes for squatters and bandits. The road which connects east and west, and so called the middenway, is ripe with highwaymen. Merchants only teavel through here in large, armed caravans. In case it isn't enough, a makeshift gallows hangs a noose every mile.

Of Nidhogghaus itself, it rests along a delta fen, fed by a sluggish river The land is very soggy and swallows whole any attempt to build large structures. Instead, Nidhoggfolk keep their homes and shops on tall stilted platforms, or crowded on the large sunken rocks which dot the landscape. Many are fisherman here, because the freshwater supports a different kind of fish than the open sea. Not many farm vegetablesnor grow trees, because the soil and water isn't rich enough in the proper nutrients; sedges make for good grazing, and there are a few shepherds in the outlying areas. The water is, though, rich in other chemicals, which the Guild refines into other alchemical product. Plaster and cement are common exports, which rarely see use in the town itself (the incredible humidity quickly dissolves plaster and cement is too heavy to build with). Acids, useful for many of the Guild's secret processes, can also be refined from the muds excavated here.

Traveling south, the land becomes rocky and cliffs facade the ocean front. Unlike the shores of Juthardul, approaching the sea from Ratoskrdul is a difficult task except in the two areas: the riversend in the north and the great crumbled mountain of the south. Berskejrhaus, meaning "warrior home", is a fortified city built on land thatt resembles nothing so more as if the land had been smashed apart with hammers. The first gnomes to land here (or rather, mycons as they were in those days) found the barren rocky wastes satisfactory, and began to carve their homes into the earth. The city consists of squat stone tiers which nestle into the mountainside. Each home had a patio which was his neighbor's roof, and the richer folk had soil imported to support patches of gardens. The reclusive local eventually became more known for creating the greatest of warriors. Those who wished to eventually be the strongest gladiators or simply the fiercest warrior, came here to hone the art. Berskejrhaus built a certain reputation as being "rough around the edges", which was a polite way to say it was full of alcoholics and other addicts. Everywhere in the Guild, there were those who used alchemy in unsanctioned ways, and the Guild turned the cheek more often than not for its underworld well maintained its own kind. Berskejrhaus was considered, perhaps, the unspoken capital of this black alchemy. Dens across the city claimed men and women alike to lose themselves in their cups or other alchemical horrors. Of course their was some intervention, like any other city, but there was also a lot more overlooking, more so than the other cities. Berskejrhuas was simply too remote from the Guild to really enforce stringent practice, but it is this dangerous atmosphere which helps to shape the greatest gnomish warriors.

South, a stone road, frozen over much of the year by the dark iron sea and her cruel winter gale, leads inland. Eventually it breaks through a mountainous pass, and ends in the icy sands of the north-westernmost corner of the deserts. There are no settlements on this road, and no town on its end. Merchants do not here, and the road was, in general, considered a great civic failure.

Gnomish nomads occasionally wander the desert, keeping safe from wyrms by hoppng along on polevaults.

[Razade]

Yen'Hi: The Midnight Isle

Yen'Hi sat watching the sky as the light twinkled brightly in the heavens and for the first time it regarded the darkness that covered its land and it recalled the Sun that was born with the rest of the world from the Void. And from the waves came a cracking and the darkness pulled apart and it is said in this time that the stars themselves danced as the mud from the depths of the world pulled into the sky and formed a silver disk that would travel with the night and be companion with the Sun, a dark reflection to the Golden Disk as Yen'Hi was to the other Gods.

The Elven Confederacy

The Elves of the land of Hoklo were content for the Tribe of Thunder, in their hope to ease the hunting of the precious life of their forests, had found plains between themselves and the mountains of the Frost Tribe and with the Songs that Shaped the World they brought water to help their plants grow and from the bread basket of the valleys they swore to feed their brethren should they forswear meat and the killing of the creatures of the forest. The Wave Tribe refused, instead stealing away the knowledge of the fields and took it to their homes where they grew feed to fatten the animals they raised. The Tribes were incensed and a great meeting called and words of warning issued. Yet the Wave Tribe did not fear for in secret they had learned to use the Songs that Shaped the World to bring back the Unworthy Dead and for the first time unliving feet moved through the sacred groves of the Elves. The Tribes went their separate ways from this meeting, all knowing that there would be repercussions for the Wave Tribe's aggression.

Create Celestial Body: The Moon - 2 AP
Create Concept: Agriculture -1 AP
Advance Age (Elves): Iron Age - 1 AP
Create Magical Concept: Necromancy - 2 AP

6 AP - 2 AP -2 AP - 1 AP - 1 AP = 0 AP

[ImNotTrevor]

Jumping in late game is difficult. Excuse the poor quality. I have to get up early tomorrow and won't have much time until later.
It had been so long since the creation of the world. So many gods had arisen and gone their way.

And some gods were never truly born at all.

Such happened to little Irius. He was to be a God of Healing and Medicine. But with all the chaos, not enough divinity was spared to him. His body fell to the earth and was buried. Where it lies, the soil is tainted and does not grow plants. But with the renewed activity of the gods, so much divinity being slung here and there, something sparks within the body of little Irius.

The bones twitch and spark, desperate for life. A skeleton rises, desperate and hungry. Starving for divinity.

It trudges slowly, limping and painful. It is drawn inexorably to a small shrine. A little hut built to respect another God. Irius' rotting body fell upon it, consuming the shrine and shuddering with pleasure.

That was all the being needed to respark its divine growth. But its journey into death had tainted the godling forever.

----

Ichorius slowly erected himself. Only the faintest memories of a previous existence remained. He recalled nothingness. He recalled dying. He recalled hunger and pain.

He looked at his own form. It flowed and sucked at the air and dribbled onto the ground. He had been standing under a tree before...now it was a barren, rotted log. Something in him itched. Like a sneeze in his belly.

Ichorious plodded forward. Walking was slow and difficult. This would not do.

The slime and filth adorning him shivered and moved, lifting him and carrying him forward as if astride a thick wave. Ah yes. This was much better.

And in his wake, a trail of death followed.

[Toxic Mind]

Yara awakes. Time was meaningless to the gods, and much of it had passed. A brief nap was for the world many generations. She surveys the world for a time. The Wolven had changed. Thriving commerce had begun between the four different packs, for different materials to each, as befitting their own special lands. From the Mountain Wolven, the Ironfur, came ores of the earth, copper and iron and crystals mined from deep within the mountains. The metals provided the backbone of Wolven troops, the hardiest and most powerful. The crystals were always strange, and each color affected each Wolven differently. But all invariably tapped into the spirit world to give the one who ingested it some strange power over the world of the mystic. The crystals were less common, but more highly sought after. From the Wolven to the North, the Frostclaw, came the flesh of the creatures in the snows, which gave the eater the ability to survive extreme temperatures and go long periods of time without eating. This was highly sought after by the Ironfur to protect those that mined the deepest mountains from the crushing pressure and heat, and the Sandhide to weather the long periods between feasts among the desert sands. From the Sandhide came the flesh of their desert competition, Sand Wyrms and the like. This gave the eater the power to move unseen through almost any terrain, that sight would slide across them without notice. This was highly sought by the Frostclaw and the Earthfang, who often used stealth to capture their prey. It would seem that the Earthfang might have brought the flesh of their kills, but after much experimentation, it was found that the flesh of prey reacted poorly to the gift of the Wolven. But the Earthfang had a greater prize, The Huntress' Star. They grew and harvested it, and traded it, so that all the adaptation could take place.

In the beginning, the Sandhide had attempted to harvest the flowers from the desert themselves, but it brought them too close to Bloodstone, with too much loss. And so balance was maintained among the Packs. Still, however, the Wolven did not create true cities, as we might know them. They preferred the wild, preferred the visceral primality of it all. And Yara approved. She visited the Alphas once more, a brief moment to enter their minds and their homes, to remind them of their Mother. Of course, they never forgot, but such reminders never hurt.

The Wolven had known of the goblins in Bloodstone, and the Shards, for a time now, though such relationships were decidedly antagonistic. However, the Gnomes in their holds, dotting the coastline of the Hunting Grounds, were spared such a fate. The Wolven found in them, while strange, some kinship, for the Gnomes too worshiped a form of the Huntress, and had a great deal to offer the Wolven in trade besides. Even now, the Wolven attempted to barter some agreement by which the nearest Wolven tribe would serve as guards, and some Wolven even came to live in the Holds of the gnomes, though usually on the outskirts, closest to the woods. They never stopped serving the Alpha of their Pack, but they had more freedom as well. It was tolerated, if just barely, by the Packs, for there was little reason to stop it. (OOC: Gnomes can now have Wolven Guards at the Holds if they want. Could even have a meeting between an Alpha and the Hold leader IC)

With the help of the gnomes, some of the wiser Wolven began experimenting with the mixing of metals, and the possibilities of the Huntress' Gift with things outside of the bounties of the earth, with varying degrees of success.


Advance: Iron Age 5/6
Create Sanctum: The Bleeding Glacier - The Glacier itself is Yara's Sanctum, and within it, the ice never melts, and there is always Huntress' Stars, even if all elsewhere they are destroyed. Nothing else changes about that section of the forest, however. 3/6

[bryn0528]

The Guild as a whole spent a great deal of time thinking over their relations with the Wolven. Long ago, at the dawn of time, Mycons feared the brutal hunters. Stronger now, for their transition into gnomes, and the significant breadth of their holdings, they held Wolven with a respectable equality. At a meeting in Hjaalhaus, the de facto capital of all the Guild (and simply not Juthardul), a grand council of all the hold's representative leaders voted 'aye' into expanding their trade options with the tribes.

It did not simply extend in hiring Wolven for their guards, much appreciated as it was along the dangerous Midenway, but in trade for goods as well. Gnomish looms produced fine fabrics from plant material the Guild harvested, lighter and more flexible than leather and furs, and more silent as well. Gnomish medicine was uncompared in the world, a vital gift to be shared. The gnomes attempted to bring currency to the Wolven, though they eschewed such a meaningless system. Instead, the gnomes offered their workshops; collaboration of the Packs and the Guild produced no finer bow or snare, the magical powers of alchemical comforts and pleasures available for use, and gnomes were still the finest of chefs bar none (while a deer roasted over an open flame is nice, venison delicacies could be a real treat).

In exchange, the gnomes adored the metals so better cultivated by claw than from acid. The precious stones of the earth captured the light of a gnome's eye greater than all else. The gnomes did not hunt except on occasion, so fresh meats (assured to be kills from non-sentient animals) were accepted as well as furs for wearing (Guild fashion is a fickle beast, each season sporting a new look, but fur quickly became a luxury item always in demand). The Guild also began to request live animals, which they could begin to build an infrastructure around; for the first time, the holds began to practice husbandry (mostly sheep and goats, but also birds).

This spurred new desires from the Guild. A group of four titled merchants (the Guild's equivalent of an unlanded gentry) accompanied with two gnomish gladiators and a Wolven tracker, guide, and hunter (all the same person), made their way to the World Tree deep in the forest. No telling if they would find such a place, but if the hunted god would allow, the Guild would highly appreciate skilled bankers.

Another, entirely unsimilar and slightly accidental forray is made west, onto the shores of Hoklo. The Guild names four island holdings, based on the great clusters of mushrooms which wander the seas. Generally the mechanisms of the world are precise enough that the general path of each island is the same. Every certain number of weeks or so and a coastal hold might expect a visit from one of its more ephemral brothers. Occasionally, a scheduled arrival could be days or even weeks late or early, and rarely, a course could be changed completely. A great ocean storm knocked one such hold, Hfaanhaus, further west than it had ever been before. Imagine the gnomish surprise to happen upon an (at least in their perspective) undiscovered island. A party was sent ashore, and thus began Nuedulhaus ("new land home") on the shores of Hoklo.

AP Start: 6.
Create concept: barter/trade. -1
Advance age: The Guild is now Renaissance. -1
REMAINING AP: 4.

[Toxic Mind]

The Wolven understood little of currency, but they understood value. They saw the way the Gnomes looked upon the metals that were pulled from the earth, and the crystals. They found it odd enough, for the gnomes did not consume the crystals to commune with the spirits, did not need them to gain magic, as the Wolven did, but they valued them nonetheless. Of more curiosity were the bright metals, silver and gold, which the Gnomes eagerly traded for. The Gnomes would make strange ornaments with these metals, which the Wolven found useless, if pretty baubles. As for the currency, It was well known that Wolven from the packs would not accept such things often, though Alphas and their trusted lieutenants almost always dealt with the gnomes in currency for ease. Within the Pack, barter and trade still reigned, and skills of wit and tongue were highly prized, and made the chance of getting a good deal much better. In the beginning, some gnomish merchants took the bestial form of the Wolven to reflect a stupidity of the mind. They learned very quickly that to deal unfairly with the Wolven had dire, and usually fatal, consequences. But beyond a few initial incidents, relations were mostly cordial between the two, and a healthy respect for each other's strengths developed.

Still, the Alphas remained mysterious and aloof, dealing with gnomes only through surrogates. They did not deign to deal with anything less than the rulers of the gnomes, and thus far, no meeting had been asked for. To earn the favor of the Fist of an Alpha, the term for the primary agent of one of the leaders of the Pack, was highly sought after, as such patronage was lucrative beyond measure.

[squidpope]

Rizzet walked. And walked. And walked. He did not recall intending to make the Shards as tireless as they were. They never stopped. Not at night, not when the glorious bringer of dawn passed, not even when the mirages of the desert made the true way unclear. He had wanted to create hardy creatures, certainly, but these Shards were more like work animals than the life he had been trying to emulate. They did not discover or experiment like the Gnomes, nor vie for power like the Wolven. They did not have a sense of community like the Forest's Chosen, and the bound god would have been surprised if they even knew what fear was, let alone if they felt it. Even when they sung, the emotions they felt lasted only as long as they kept the tune going. Rizzit had wanted to make life, but had created only a shadow of it, a race with no desires or ambitions who only acted when told to. Like a mirage, he had copied the ideas of what he saw with no real thought as to the substance of it, and he would find a way to fix it. Not today though. He barely had the energy to keep up with the marching masses, and anything else was out of the question. Far ahead a city of brown stone loomed, its high walls dwarfed by a massive temple that was the very definition of decadence. He would see what was happening in the city first, and ask his brother how to proceed.

[Lizard Lord]

The Nation of the Forest had heard tails of gnomish trade and, more importantly, the goods that the gnomes have. Seeing an opportunity to expand their hoards, and to get shinier and fancier things added to said hoards, the forest-folk were eager to open trade with the gnomes. However their spies had informed them that the Wolven have begun to live within the gnomish holds and work as guards. In their paranoia the citizens of the forest had feared that they would be killed and eaten by these Wolven guards should they try to enter a gnomish hold.

Only the Guardians of the Forest seemed brave enough (or, more accurately, most of those brave enough had already joined the Guardians) but they were needed to protect against the predators. Eventually, however, Xerxias was convinced to make the journey, leaving the rest of the Guardians in charge of protection while he was away.

Before starting on his quest Xerxias made sure to grab a rare resource that the gnomes could not possibly find elsewhere, a miracle seed from the world tree. He traveled to Hjaalhaus to make his deal. On the way he was attacked by goblins numerous times but, with his wooden exoskeleton enhancing his strength, Xerxias proved his might as the protector of the forest and emerged victorious each time.

Still he was exhausted and worn by the time he had approached the gates of Hjaalhaus. Once there he simply walked straight towards the Wolven guards at the gate and informed them that he wished to discuss business with the guild leaders.

[ImNotTrevor]

He-Who-Corrupts came to the sea. He needed a place to stay. A place to hide. And he needed servants. His great works would begin soon enough.

He extended a pseudopod into the water, causing the filth of his body to spread, stagnating and thickening the sea as it went.
The land extended with the stagnation, creating a circular bog several hundred miles in diameter. The land was quickly choked with thorns and noxious weeds, which bore poisonous fruit and nectar.

Ichorious moved into the swamp, which would in years to come be named The Plaguelands.

Ichorius waded into his swamp and felt pleased. He travelled to its center and went about crafting his servants.

For a time he considered how to make them. How should they appear? What would comprise their forms? As he thought, inspiration finally came. He would craft them after his own image.

Ichorious swelled and doubled over. With a wretching cry he expelled the Firstborn from his gut. With another retch, he expelled the other.

The Ozix had been born. A race of living, thinking oozes. The key lay in their orb-shaped cores, which floated in the midst of their forms. It was their sensory organ that allowed them to perceive the world. It allowed them to think. It was what made them alive.

Ichorius felt tired now. He needed to rest for a season while his creations multiplied and worshipped him to renew his strength. In the meantime, he rested.

[Toxic Mind]

When the forest creature appeared, the Wolven were astounded. Such an action was unheard of. One was iron Wolven, his claws and fur like the metals of the earth. The other was stone Wolven, slow, immovable, and impassable without consent. Yet for the first time in existence, the Wolven did not attack. The iron Wolven nods and in a voice like the grinding of metals says only "you seek the leaders of the Gnomes. Be welcome, Protector." The fame of Xerxias was known, and while his hide was sought after above all others, to break the treaty of peace with the gnomes was suicide. And to take the honor of such a hunt from an Alpha was to ask for a fate worse than death.

It was known that none but the Alphas would have the strength or cunning to fight against the protector of the forest. His name was spoken alongside that of predators, an honor never before afforded to any not of divine nature among the creatures of the forest.

[bryn0528]

The first few expeditions into the forest to find the famed Yggdrasil proved fruitless, and each return of gnomish and Wolven explorers brought more disappointment. The appearance of a walking tree on the road spread rumors that reached Hjaalhaus long before the guardian himself. The wooden gates swing open easily wjen the Wolven keepers pull a lever and unseen mechanisms set to work.

The city inside is unlike anywhere else, like any gnomosh city. Along the road there are homes and buildings with stone foundations and pleasant plaster and post walls, glass windows and tile roofs lacquered in vibrant colors. But in Hjaalhaus, the homes are built upon wooden foundations in the branches of the trees. Wooden bridges and platforms suspended by ropes serve as the city roads. At Xerxias' arrival, the city rejoiced. Banners and flags of every color hung from railing and roof. Gnomes threw flowers on Xerxias journey though the city (on the ground paths, escorted by a litany of Wolven guards). The road ended with a large wooden ramp into the Guild Center.

Overlooking the bay, a structure like a large ship suspended in the trees. Criers announce Xerxias, who is walked into the large and open wooden building. The main hall is a great semi-circle of sixteen chairs behind a raised podium. Only one of these chairs does not have an elderly gnome wearing robes seated in it (the seat is empty, not with another race sitting there or a gnome not wearing robes).

The gnome in the center, a woman of incredible girth and grey hair barely contained by the tight bun it attempted to be in. Her skin is sable dark, and her robes are canary yellow. "Welcome, Protector!" she said entusiastically with a spread of her arms. She smiled. "And captain," she added, to the Wolven attendant who entered with Xerxias. "The Guild just voted and decided to call our Wolven guards 'knights'. It felt more flavored than 'guards'. I know you don't care much for frivolous titles, bit we hope you enjoy it." She smiled again and turned back to the guardian. She gestured, a little impatiently, for Xerxias to get on with it.

[Lizard Lord]

Xerxias was disappointed that the Wolven where smart enough not to pick a fight with him as he had hoped that they would break the treaty with the gnomes. But he had no intention of picking a fight with the Guild either and so entered the city.

His disappointment with the guards was soon replaced with the pride and joy he felt at the fanfare that the gnomes had thrown. He was the champion of the greatest of animals and was happiest when he was revered and recognized as such.

When Xerxias arrived he bowed slightly to the gnomish women and proceeded to business. "It is simple. The Nation of the Forrest would like to trade with the Guild. We have our own technologies, goods, and techniques that we may share with the guild. As well we would like to establish banks within the guild settlements, if it pleases you. Finally, among the goods we have available to trade we also have these."

With that Xerxias opened the hand of his wooden armor and reveal a seed of the world tree inside. "The seeds of the world tree have replaced missing limbs and have also grown the armor I wear now. Though it is likely that they may serve even more uses and if so we believe that gnomish ingenuity can discover those other uses."

The hand then closed and Xerxias glanced towards the guard captain before continuing. "However, for these we have a condition. For obvious reasons we do not want the power of these seeds to fall into the wrong hands. It is primarily intended for use for the Guild's architects, alchemists, and leaders. It may only be traded to those not fitting this description upon approval from the leadership of the Nation of the Forest. I hope you understand."

[bryn0528]

The gnomish speaker, none other than Guild Chaptermaiden Nachthein, the leader of Hjaalhaus and main speaker to all Guild affairs in general, remained stoic. "The Guild considers your gift, brave champion of Ratatoskr." She looked to the other council memebers, who shuffle in their chairs and whisper behind hands to one another. After a moment, an old man with a balding head and shocks of white hair sticking from the sides of his head, with a pointy white beard and who wore azure blue robes, lifted a stick of wood lacquered and dyed green. Ten other council members followed suit, but the three others raised red sticks instead. "And the Guild accepts your gift with grace." She waved a hand and ushered an aide forward, a young boy who carried a red plush pillow and knelt before Xerxias. "We hope this transaction will signify a long and healthy relationship of trade between the guild and the Nation of the Forest." Though Nachthein's words were floral, her tone fell a little flat.

A rough man wearing robes the color of new moss cleared his throat. This was Dunbran, representative of Gjaarhaus (the northernmost hold of Juthardul, so named for the snow that covers it three seasons out of four). Chaptermaiden Nachthein smiled with a sly grin and added, "In exchange we hope you accept our gifts as well." She clapped twice and a wizened man, by far the oldest in the room, with a crooked back and wearing funny silver clothes and a leather apron, came forward with a glass bottle. The bottle had a globe on the bottom and a long thin neck. An inch of dirt filled the glass, and a long vine sprouted from that. A cork stoppered the bottle, clasped shut with metal. "The Nation of the Forest," she explained as the old alchemist presented the bottle to the guardian, "is not the only to work in the arts of plants. Though yours is of magical nature, ours is derived from the sciences. We present to you our own alchemically enriched soil, for which I am sure your people can find a use for. It too comes with a caveat, that the soil is not to be analyzed for its components nor its properties reproduced. Only a master geobabis may learn the process and be properly licensed. Any attempts to learn or undermine Guild secrets will be seen as an act of war and will be met with suitable return fire."

She calmed, having become incited with fervor. "Of course, we offer more than just a handful. You will find escorts outside, waiting with a small landbarge," (which is just another way of saying a flatbed cart) "To follow you. Among them, will be enough gnomes to begin a new holding for the guild." She gestured to the empty chair. "After a year and a day of being established, Yggdrasilhaus will appoint a representative to the council. Our clerks there will work to facilitate trade and to ensure the contract of these agreements is upheld." She smiled but spoke without mirth, almost condescending. "The Guild will inform the haus to be with licensing sale of world tree seeds."

[Toxic Mind]

It did not take long for the Wolven to know of the development. After all, the guards may work for the gnomes, but they served the Alpha first above all. And the Alpha of the Earthfang, a female Wolven whose pelt was the same red ochre of blood, heard. And she wondered how this would change the power of the world. Messengers moved from pack to pack, correspondence among the leaders to find a solution for this new problem.

The Wolven trackers continued their forays into the Forests, but were always careful to steer the gnomes away from the true places of power, the World Tree and the Bleeding Glacier most especially. The Wolven trusted that the animals of the forest would keep their home tree safe, and the Wolven lead the unknowing gnomes away from the home of Yara, for such a site was sacred beyond outside comprehension, and held as well the gift of the Huntress, which could never be allowed to fall into the hands of any outsider. The Wolven did this unknown to their supposed benefactors, to maintain the proper relationship. And despite their lack of success at finding the World Tree or other places of power, the Wolven Trackers were invaluable, having been raised in the areas they searched, and knowing them far better than any who dwelt in a city might.

[Lizard Lord]

Xerxias's nostrils flared, not appreciating the condescending tone, but otherwise kept a civil tongue. The gnomes will eventually figure out that the seeds can not be duplicated and should they breach contract their supply would be cut off. Placing the sample seed on the pillow Xerxias bowed once more to the guild leaders before taking his leave.


He had lead the gnomes to the World Tree as agreed. With a larger and more guarded caravan there were fewer, if any, goblin attacks on the way.

Though they were forbidden from looking into gnomish technologies the Nation of the Forest were still inspired by exposure to gnomish to gnomish culture to creature their own technologies as well as improve those that had already developed.

The jars of enriched soil were at first hoarded as souvenirs by the forest-folk and went unused for some time. Eventually there would be some forest-folk that would be curious enough to try and find out what they can do with it (without discovering how it was made, of course) but that is a story for later.

3
-1 Advance Age: Iron Age

[ImNotTrevor]

Ichorius wallowed in his bog peacefully for now, but his head already swam with plans.

His servants acted out their whims, but were sure to give their worship and occasional offerings to He-Who-Corrupts.

The Ozix were immune to the poisonous plants and thorns that grew in their home, and so could consume them with impunity. Their consumption of the toxins made their own bodies toxic and often foul-smelling.

A favorite hunting tactic for the Ozix was to act as a living trap. Their shape was highly malleable, and so hiding in a puddle and waiting for prey to come along was a simple and effective method.

It was not long into the life of the Plaguelands that a group of Wolven adventured in, seeking new prey to be had in this new and strange landscape.

Gorib had been waiting for prey for several days now. Now it would be faced with more food than it could possibly eat at once.

Something stepped on him. Gorib did as it was wont to do whenever food happened along.

The Wolven called out to his fellows. His foot was stuck in the muck. An annoyance beyond mere hindrance. His fellows openly mocked him for his foolishness and for getting trapped like prey. He didn't get the chance to respond.

A sickly green pseudopod lashed out from the muck and latched around his throat before dragging him under with a jerking motion. Gorib enveloped his prey, holding it under the water where it would soon drown. It was stronger than Gorib anticipated, but it had already become ensnared beyond saving.

The other Wolven watched cautiously as the water ceased frothing. A single final bubble burst on the surface. After a few more seconds, their ally's limp form rose from the depths, enveloped in green slime. The creature rose from the muck and shivered. A dark red orb slithered to the top, seemingly looking at them.

There was a moment of tense silence before the Wolven leapt in to seek revenge. Gorib flowed out of the way of the initial assault, and rolled into the next small pond of muck. Its only hope was to hide and run better than these strange furry creatures could pursue.

After nearly an hour of chasing, the Wolven were forced to give up. The bog sucked at their legs and matted their fur with filth. Another of their number was shaking uncontrollably after brushing against a thorn bush and cutting himself on a thorn.

Two days later he would succumb to the poison.

Gorib lived and spent nearly a month digesting its meal before spitting up the skeleton and the strange metal the creature had worn. It was all left as an offering to Ichorius.

He-Who-Corrupts accepted the offering. His creations were deadly in their own element, but more would need to be done. His servants were not soldiers. No. He needed a more subtle approach. One that would let his servants focus on his needs.

He knew what needed to be done. But for now, we needed to regain his strength.

[Toxic Mind]

The Plaguelands. When they were discovered, they were closest to the mountain homes of the Ironfur. Originally, the other packs did as they always had when one was threatened but all were not. They ignored it. But soon enough, it became clear that the Plaguelands, while dangerous, had something to offer the Wolven. Poisons. Toxins. Venom. These were things that none beyond those who had seen the venom dripping from the barbed tail of the Huntress knew of. The Ironfur began harvesting them. And the first strata of Wolven society began to take form. No true hunter would risk themselves in the dangerous swamps. So other Wolven took up the task, just as there were miners, so too came the gatherers. They used the Gift of the Huntress to adapt hardened skin that would keep the barbs from piercing flesh and injecting their deadly toxins. The Ozix, simply called the swamp ones at that time, were always a risk, but soon enough, the Wolven began sending gatherers with those that adapted from the sapphires of the earth, and found an elemental affinity with the spirits of frost. They would freeze the swamps around the gatherers, either killing or driving away the Ozix that might lay in wait.

And it would continue such a way for a time, though the Wolven would not share the secrets of their poisonous finds with others, beyond the newly poisoned traps and arrow tips. Such an advantage was to be kept as much as possible. And seeing as how the Ozix did not bother to attempt contact, as far as the Wolven were concerned, they were pests, to be eradicated when found. Predators, yes, but they were not of the Huntress, the Wolven knew in their blood, and thus were little better than the animals of the forest, if decidedly less edible.

[Razade]

[Elven Confederacy]

Word moved through the Confederacy, strange small peoples in large buildings that moved across the waves had come to the shores of Hoklo. For seven days and seven nights the Young Sages spoke with one another and what was to be done about the strange creatures from beyond their shores. It was decided in the morning of the seventh day that each tribe would send a member of their tribe as a delegation and each would be skilled with the powers of the Songs that Shaped the World for no one Tribe was to have a louder voice than the united People of Yen'Hi. It would be this framework that the Elves would use from here after should other strange creatures come from beyond. And it was this first Delegation that came to the land of Nuedulhaus.

However it was not just the matter of how to deal with the strange creatures from beyond the waves peacefully that was discussed. With the Wave Tribe's creation of the Undead the other tribes began to discuss how to counter not only new threats but threats from within. Those with the Songs that Shaped the World had met during the Meeting Festival, discussing the Laws and the Words and came forth at the last night of the Seven Days and presented their work. From the wood and the rock they had shaped a man twice as tall as the tallest Elf. They had sung it's skeleton from the Elder Trees and carved it's muscles from the clay of the rivers. It had taken many hands but when the body was done it was covered in the furs of animals and the stone of the quarries and they called them Guardians, and from here after they walked the lands of the Elves.


Create Concept: Diplomacy -1
Create Mythical Concept: Golemcraft -2

3+1= 3 AP - 3 AP= 0 AP