Lords of Creation: Once and Future Gods (IC)

[mystic1110]

The Beginning

It begins with silence.

Blistering silence.

Often one thinks of silence is cold, uncaring – but it was not so. Nothing was incandescent. The Silence was searing. And this should be obvious, with hindsight, although who dares to see towards the start?

Nothing is Possibility. It is a blank slate, an empty canvas. It is boundless and endless. It is odious and grateful. It is raw and hot and ready to be molded.

It is dangerous. Silence will burn you.

But then – something speaks.

The nameless creator? No one knows - for its first words did not echo in the vastness of the void. They were like snow in the inferno of Nothing. They were choices made and definitive in the inconclusive sea of everything that could be. What power did words have in the face of all that never was? Questions of their providence were burned to a crisp like everything else.

It is only known that they were Power. The only power.

The words were like a black star, impossible when even the concept of impossibility didn’t and couldn’t occur, they punctured Nothing like a spear thrown down from a heaven that did not yet exist. And this gaping hole was Something.

Silence, that molten Nothing that was Possibility, rushed in to close that hole. It fell into it, cascaded through it, until there was nothing left. The universe was left cold and empty, but that is the secret and the miracle. It was a universe now. It knew for itself what emptiness was. It knew that it was empty. This was the void created by those burned words. It now was . . .

There is now a sunless orb – a mirror-like ocean upon it. And nothing else. Nothing? Where did all that Nothing go? It poured into this empty universe and . . .

Of course. It is obvious don’t you think?

All the raw luminous possibility that was there in the beginning before Beginning. It is still here. It is still among us in the void. The universe cooled it and tempered it, and as that former incendiary nothingness coalesced it formed into torrid droplets, fractions of Nothing, shards of the Possible.

It became the Gods.

The Lords of Creation, who each wield two terrible and beautiful spears. On the left the Burning Silence of Possibility. On the right the Frozen Conclusions of Declaration . . .

And now how will they use these weapons? How will they carve this sunless orb? To which whim of theirs . . . for there is Whim now. And Duty. And Desire. And Obligation. There is everything, and there is now.

Which singed echoes will these young Nobles hear? The charred words of Creation? The scorched syllables of Destruction? The embers of Making or the cinders of Ownership?

All these questions and only a story can answer them . . .

And all stories, all Universes, begin with words . . .

[Razade]

The Elves: A Creation Myth

The First World was once all water. The Elves of Kaolin speak of this. When the sky above was nothing but storm and there was no land to make a home. It was in this time the Gods came from the dark void beyond the clouds and bought land from the ocean floor. The Elves speak of The Deluge, the master of these Storms who had created Kaolin, their home. They credit O-Thisse not as their creator god, for the Elves see common cause with the animals of their lands, thinking that they too are among them, but as a shepherd and a father who stood out from the other Gods to bring them enlightenment.

The Elves before O-Thisse came, they say, were simple animals like the cow and the goat they hold on their farms. It was O-Thisse that taught them of their unique role in Creation. O-Thisse who taught them to yolk a calf and to take bitter waters and make them safe to drink. To tend fire, to sing and to dance and to make bread from wild oats. The Elves say that O-Thisse in his way taught them to write their names and to make symbols for concepts they did not hold in their hands. To find simple metals and to bend them to shapes and tools. O-Thisse thus was The Sky Father, a teacher and a mentor and thus more deserving of worship than one who had simply made them.

In this though the Elves are up front on the dangers of their Sky Father. O-Thisse is not only the God of crafting with ones hands but the storms that still cover the skies over Kaolin, the one who brought rain to this land. O-Thisse could teach but could also destroy. In this the Elves crafted their theology even when they were simple tribes. It is said that O-Thisse taught the Elves two secrets. Secrets only the Gods knew. The first was the work with metals and flame but the second the Elves prized even more closely. Alchemy. The power to take the simple herbs of the ground and waters of the sky and make them something new and powerful. Tonics to stave off poisons, to heal wounds, to speak with their animal kin. All of this the Elves were taught but used for selfish ends. The small tribes grew larger, fought and killed one another, and this enraged O-Thisse who fled to the skies in disgust. To leave the Elves to their folly and to rain down fury when they truly offended.


O-Thisse: The First Tragedies

O-Thisse tells a separate tale to those of Godly ear. When the Gods were born, among them, he fell to the first world with the rain. Weary even then, the Unwavering speaks of pulling Kaolin from the ground, crafting it with precision and then bored...went to fill it with things to fill the hole that was joy in his life. He began with simple plants, trees and loam, carving lake and river with his hands but he found no joy in this.

He then moved to the fish of the seas and the birds of the sky but these would never keep him company. He moved on to animals large and ferocious but they lacked imagination so he moved to the small mice and insects...but these too did not hold the spark he so wanted. So he took the good qualities of each of his favored animals and in his kilns crafted something new. The Elves. For a time they filled his need for happiness and he taught them much for they were eager to learn. But in time, having learned how to bend metal and to tame the wild beasts O-Thisse had made, O-Thisse simply found no joy in them. Their worship, even worse, twisted him. He had made something he could not love, for mortals were dangerous to be around. The First World...and all those mortals that came with it...were weapons. Their belief, the knives of their minds.

O-Thisse rarely speaks of this First Tragedy. Rarer still the Second Tragedy for in his absence he did witness the Elves simply fill in the blank space he left with more prayer and devotion. They had not lost their desire for a God, only sought more Gods to blend into their deeply syncretic faith. This desire drew O-Thisse to the other Gods when all he wished was for solitude and the work of his forges. He had had everything and found it wanting, now he had nothing and felt just as hollow. The Deluge dreamed of a time when there was naught but ocean. Naught but peace, a time he wished to return to. The call of the Void was strong, O-Thisse would soon never touch the First World again with dusty feet.


Early Elven Society: A Treaty

The dusty and arcane tome of Gom Ull Soh known as Our Elven Forebearers is taught to all Elves in universities, using a great many ancient writings from what is thought to be the earliest of Elven writing. In one of these universities a lecture is held.

“Our first lecture concerns our ancestors, the first Elves to join in what we can formally call a society. The first tribes appear to have formed on the North West bay and mountain ridge of Kaolin before moving across to the mountainous valleys at its center. It is here, in the valley center, the tribes grew to a formal series of organized units and began to exchange ideas and cultural norms until the tribes were a fairly uniform culture. This period is known for the great works of pottery and crude paintings these tribes left behind. It also marks the first signs of burial rites in Elven society. First the Elves would perform a feast for the dead, putting their bodies somewhere dry and away from the rains along with ritual mourning. The bodies would then be taken to large caverns the Elves had turned into vast smokers, preserving the bodies and drying them further. Once this was done, once a year, all the dead would be brought out and used in further rituals by the elders of each tribe.

These rituals included great alchemical works and the creation of metal tools, the only time they would perform the latter. These tribes believed that Elves existed much like the sky, sea and ground, in three parts unified. The smoke from these great ritual fires would join with the clouds and return to the Sky Father who would then return the Elven spirits to the ground with his rains. These rains would nurture new life on the ground, and in turn enter into the bodies of newborn Elves. Metal items made in these rituals were highly prized and fought over, entire tribes wiping each other out for these precious tools. It wasn’t until the advent of quarries and other methods of obtaining metals that the tribal disputes gave way to prolonged periods of peace.

It is in this period as well that we see the terraced rice farms grow along the mountainside along with wheat fields in the grasslands. Elves of this period were discovering the powerful effects of alchemy and turned their attention to finding and cataloging every useful ingredient. As these catalogs grew, more emphasis was placed on growing and cultivating these materials. To this effect tribal Elves also began to tame and befriend various animals. Hounds and ducks seem to have been the first domesticated animals for the Elves, the former for protection and companionship with the latter used as powerful pest control measures as well as food. Duck even today is a staple of the Elvish diet. Bees followed as cultivation grew more central to the Elven way of life and the honey they produced was used in the creation of heady meads as well as a major ingredient in most alchemical potions. Both to cover the otherwise awful taste of potions but also for their potent magical properties. A now extinct goat like animal was also used as a beast of burden, mount and source of dairy for the tribal Elves. We suspect this animal went extinct as the roles it played went to more specialized breeds. Horses and other animals have taken their place as roads and other systems of transportation have replaced the need to cross mountainous terrain. The proto-Elven Alphabet has ten different terms for these animals and many of our oldest scrolls are written on what we presume to be their cured hides. However we do not have an accurate depiction of these animals, the art showing them as somehow related to The Sky Father. They were most often sacrificed along with the Elven Dead.

Moving parallel to these points, we find that many Elves spent their time in the fields growing food or hunting for meat. The Tribes were still fairly egalitarian in this time, every member of the tribe working to make sure food was available though this begins the signs of growing class structure as individuals specialized their work. Each tribe was headed by an Elder or Elders, picked among the wisest in the tribe. These Elders fulfilled the role of priest and head alchemist for their tribes, part medicinemen and part lawgivers. The Elders of the tribes would meet several times in the year to discuss matters in their territories though otherwise tribes had little contact outside of warfare.

Warriors were made up of the most able bodied in the tribe while the sick of weak remained to teach children and cook. Elves seemed to have five stages of age in these times. Newborns were overseen by the Elder and a number of wives from the tribe until they were weaned. From this time until they were fit enough to run they were handed over to the oldest of the tribe that could no longer provide any other tasks. Once an Elf began to speak, they were placed in small group classes under the direction of one or several teachers where they would remain until young adulthood. Young adults would work the field if they were not fit to be warriors, or were sent to steal and loot from other tribes. When they were too old for this, they would cook and maintain the village before settling into the aforementioned elderly role. So we see a clear division between birth, childhood, young adult life, old adult life and the eldery.

Next time we’ll discuss the slow move towards consolidation of the tribes into Clans and what set the stage for the first Three State Period as well as the eventual Kaolin Unification.”



A Further Treaty on Elven Alchemy

When the Elves first stepped out from their simple caves and the pitiful fires they built within they found O-Thisse before a great and mighty forge on which burned a cauldron filled with knowledge. The Sky Father beckoned the Elves to his side and gave them a drink from the bubbling stew and in their minds was the first inklings of a power that resided in all things. The Elves call this power Mana but in the Common Tongue we refer to it simply as Alchemy. The Elves, diligent record keepers, claim to have the history of Alchemy from this very encounter with O-Thisse though they also claim that the ingredients found on this recipe either do not exist within the mortal realms, are owned exclusively by O-Thisse or never existed in the first place. Various schools of thought in Elven Alchemy debate these philosophical underpinnings to their craft. The Elves and perhaps the truly dedicated Alchemists, or Manast to the Elves, are the only ones who care about this holy doctrine. If it does exist the Elves have refused to share it to outsiders. What the draught might do is also one of many lists. If the Elves could make it again they would be like Gods themselves, finally finding and appeasing the Sky Father for their Tragedies. Transforming them into something other than Elf but different than God, making them immortal. Each Manast seems to have their own belief in what this Allixer might do.

Beside the Elven religious significance behind Alchemy there is far more practical use for the art, which any Elf would tell you as a highly practical people. Alchemy can be used for a number of curative effects though Elven Medicine has since evolved beyond early Alchemy. Alchemy’s main powers hold sway over changing the physical world. Elven Ironwood for example began as simple saplings treated with a now extinct formula where cherries and river water were turned into a mash, fermented with iron and then strained before adding to the dirt and smeared on bark.

The Elven Koi, known to be as large as a grizzly bear, began life as small pond fish but are now used to by the Elves to traverse their riverways much like a horse draws a carriage. Similarly Elven War Bears have been fed various alchemical potions to lower their hostility such that Elves can ride them without fear. The Elves have treated much of the animal life on their islands, turning flowers and other plants into powerful light sources better than any torch, creating arrows that explode violently on impact and stones that both heat and cool water. Darker uses have been shared as well but such formulas are hard to find. I might come again, dear innkeeper, if I find them. Perhaps we might raise that daughter of yours from the dead, the Elves claim to have such a draught, one to wake even the slumbering corpses beneath the earth.

O-Thisse: A long time before all that

It is said that O-Thisse did not come into the world alone. Instead he formed with other Gods, Gods like himself who encompassed the many elements of the First World. O-Thisse would not claim to be first nor would he claim to be last. Simply that he was with them when they took their first steps into the First World.


AP: 16

Create Land (Kaolin -2AP): Kaolin is a series of large island and limestone outcroppings arrayed to appear in an almost flower like pattern with the largest islands at the center of the archipelago. The largest of these islands are home to many bays which feed into deep rivers The interior of Kaolin’s islands turn from vast fertile valleys and grasslands to mountainous redwood forests and worn mountain ranges. The largest island has three large ranges which meet in large peaks and with a sizable interior valley at its center. Kaolin is temperate but receives a great deal of rainfall. [Life (Kaolin Elves) 2/10]

Create Sentient Life (The Elves of Kaolin -2AP): The Elves of Kaolin are slender, short with ochre skin and long ears. Swift hunters and curious sorts, they are pretty much your standard Elves. They live a long time, they’re not particularly physically strong and make up for their lack of physical prowess with intellect and creativity. [Life (Kaolin Elves) 4/10]

Form Society (Elven Society -2AP): The Elves of Kaolin were quick to form small tribes of hunter-gatherers before the advent of technology. Tools and other knowledge built larger tribes where the Elves are currently. [Life (Kaolin Elves) 6/10]

Create Basic Concept (Domestication -1AP): Elves are not strong, happy to turn their minds to use the strength of other animals. In this way, the Elves of Kaolin domesticated various animals [Life (Kaolin Elves) 7/10]

Create Basic Concept (Alphabet -1AP): The Elves of Kaolin have been making art and singing songs since their birth. They later use these symbols to create an alphabet. This early Elven script is simple and highly pictographic. [Life (Kaolin Elves) 8/10]

Create Advanced Concept (Metalworking -2AP): This first true gift from O-Thisse, the Elves were taught to take metals they found on the mountain sides and turn their hands to making very simple tools. [Life (Kaolin Elves) 10/10]

Create Mythic Concept (Alchemy -4AP): The second gift of O-Thisse, the Elves have been taught to turn simple ingredients into proto-magical drafts. These are currently simple things but the power of Alchemy will eventually grow. Alchemy can transform creatures, empower those who drink their draughts, melt stone and other substances, confer properties of one substance to another or other magical benefits. In time, of course.[Craft (Alchemy) 4/10]

Create Basic Concept (Brewing -1AP): A side bonus to Alchemy is brewing, turning water and wheat to alcohol and other useful side products. [Craft (Alchemy) 5/10]

Create Basic Concept (Agriculture -1AP): Elves need plants for Alchemy and brewing. Bigger tribes means better methods of growing. The Elves come to learn of Agriculture as yet another happy side effect. [Craft (Alchemy) 6/10]

Gain Domain: Life (Kaolin Elves)

Create Land -2: Kaolin
Create Sentient Life -2: The Elves of Kaolin
Form Society -2: The Elven Tribes
Basic Concept -1: Alphabet
Basic Concept -1: Domestication
Advanced Concept -2: Metal Working

16 - 2 - 2 - 2 - 1 -1 - 2 - 4 - 1 - 1 = 0AP

[mystic1110]

Marriage

Skkkt skkkt skkkt . . . the spiders crawl underneath the bed. Their silk houses in the corner of the doorway sway slightly in the wind . . . the fly, trapped in their strands, struggles to break free. They crawl along the threads carefully like dancers. They sink their fangs into the little one. It fights and trashes, the small amount of life blood feeding its captor. It dies . . .

And O-Lina doesn’t notice. O-Lina doesn’t notice because she is in love. She is love and the fly is small. The spiders are larger but still beneath her notice. She doesn’t notice them beneath her bed as she wakes up thinking of her lover. She doesn’t notice the web as she passes the door in the middle of the night to meet with him. The spiders notice though . . . they feel her skin as it brushes along their silk . . . O-lina runs to her rendezvous . . .

O-Lina is in love. She can’t help it. It burns like fire in her heart, which beats so loud that she is afraid of waking up the rest of the village. They promised themselves to each other and each other alone . . . . She was sure that her lover waited for her beneath the willow tree that the Storm Lord had ripped from its roots and had thrown into the house that was built next to the forest. The broken house and uprooted tree was in her mind as the location of her romance. She met her lover there countless times over the past weeks – she recalls perfectly the sway of the dying tree’s leaves as she looked up past her love. She blushes as she runs.

The ruined house is quiet, but there was a light. This was unusual as her lover had always met her with darkness. She would always walk into the house and he would grab her, she would yell with surprise and anticipation as he pushed her against the bark or the still standing walls of the house. But light? Light was new . . .

She walked towards the house lightly and with trepidation. She heard voices, laughter. She crept to one of the broken walls, a whole root system sticking out, twisting endlessly into the night, at least that’s how it looked like to her. The laughter was feminine and her flushed face paled. She looked in and she saw that her lover was there with her cousin, her cousin with her fair hair and even fairer skin. Her cousin with those beautiful eyes. She looked at her love and his face was smiling, lovely as always. Happy. She felt betrayed and hurt, and felt pain in her heart that she didn’t know could exist. It was a pain worse than broken bones or being whipped by the Storm Father’s rains.

She ran into the night into redwood forests of Kaolin. She sought solace beneath one of those ancient large trees, strong enough to survive any storm, strong enough to perhaps hold her up. She didn’t notice the fine strands glittering in the night between the trees. She didn’t notice the small webs and the eyes upon her. She didn’t notice that the webs were getting thicker and thicker. That if she looked up that the sky itself would just be silk. All she knew was that it was dark and that the muffled sounds of the forest gave her plenty of space for which to weep. She fell to her knees and cried over her love.

Who knows how long she laid there? Minutes? Hours? It was still night when she quieted. She still loved him. She still wanted him. Why? How? The heart wills and the mind follows. She wiped her face, or tried to, but as she stopped crying she heard a sound. It was soft, very soft. So soft that it could only be thought to be heard if it wanted you to hear. She turned and saw a Spider. A spider that could not have been beneath her notice. The Spider was large, larger than she was. It crawled down the Redwood with fine grace, deliberately and gently. And all eight of its eyes were looking at her.

She was frozen with fear as the great Spider crawled closer, the spider was on the forest floor now. . . . it was closer and closer and then she was able to break free from her frozen state and ran out of panic and primal terror. She ran but didn’t know where she was running to. She was too deep in the forest and didn’t know her way home. She tried looking back but didn’t see the great Spider pursuing her. She kept running and felt that feeling of when you run through a web, that sense that you just walked through solid air. She kept running, stumbling on the ground. And then suddenly she was wrapped in silk and felt herself hauled up and dragged into the air she screamed, or tried to but she couldn’t her mouth was bound and she was upside down and trapped and found herself looking at the great Spider which opened its mouth, her Fangs the size of her forearm. She struggled like a fly. And like a fly she expected those fangs to pierce her and drain her . . . she closed her eyes preparing herself to the inevitable . . .

And the spider spoke.

Hush, quiet, gently now skkkt, my dear. No need to run, no need to fight. I am here for you. I am here. I’ve seen what happened. I’ve seen your tragedy. How dare he? HOW DARE SKKKT HE! How dare he, my dear? No, it would not do. He cannot do as he pleases. He promised himself to you and that should mean no other. Of course my dear. Of skkkt course.

The Spider unwrapped her, and she couldn’t believe it, she couldn’t believe the words. But she found herself saying yes. Yes of course. She deserved him. He belonged to her and no others. She was free of the silk and did not run. She looked at the Spider and asked who it was.

I am Eydoté my little fly. I am your Mother and your Aunt, I am your Friend and your skkkt Sister. And I will make this right.

The great Spider began walking out of the forest and O-Lina followed. She didn’t notice the trail, the black carpet of smaller spiders trailing after her. She followed Eydoté to the edge of the forest and saw the broken house and the uprooted willow tree. Eydoté raised one of eight legs and motioned her to attend to her. They walked together towards the house as the spiders gathered.

Inside her cousin and her love were naked. They were both flushed from a night of passion. They laid peacefully and happy. Exhausted and unsuspecting. The great spider burst through one of the walls and before they could scream or run they were both wrapped in silk and dangled upon the branches of the fallen willow. Their mouths were bound and they starred and the great Spider with eyes wide from terror.

The spider looked at the woman first, and crawled to her. She pushed her mouth close to her face and whispered.

You betrayed your kin. You ate that which skkkt did not belong to you. And for that, you must bleed. I am sorry my little bug.

And with that she sunk her enormous fangs into the woman’s neck, which would have decapitated her if not for her head being kept in place by the silk thread. O-Lina screamed, but quieted in fear as the Spider eagerly drank from the woman and then, her fangs wet with blood turned her attention to the man. As she did so smaller spiders emerged from the wood and the floor to finish the dead bound woman, feasting.

You foolish boy. Do you not know the skkkt beauty and devotion of your lover? Do you not remember your promise? I DO. My children heard it and they shall whisper it to you so that you shall not forget again.

The smaller spider that feasted on the cousin, moved their legs such that there was a susurrus made by their motions that sounded almost like “I am yours and you are mine. Forever”.

Forever. Forever skkkt, dear one. You’ve spoken your promise and I shall make sure you keep it.

Eydoté unspooled some silk and using her great legs tied a thin strand around the neck of O-Lina and the Neck of her bound lover.

I’ve heard your promise and now you are wed. You are husband and wife. You belong to each other. In life, in death. Always skkkt and Forever. And I am watching.

And with that the great spider crawled out of the house and all the rest of the spiders followed her, leaving O-Lina alone with her love. She looked at him, still bound, although the silk was somehow miraculously falling away, and fingered the whisper thin thread around her throat connecting her to him. She smiled, perhaps hysterically, and said ‘I love you’.

And he looked at her with horror and said “I love you too. Always”.

And a spider in the corner, beneath their notice, was watching.

AP: 16

Create Monstrous Life (1 AP): Spiders. Regular Spiders.

Create Mundane Concept (1 AP): Marriage. Regular Marriage. Traditions differ between cultures but the number eight and silk play a heavy role in each of them. Sometimes the traditions involve a third party shedding some blood for the happy couple. Celebration!

Domain (Unaccounted)
1 AP – Spiders
1 AP – Marriage
2/10

AP: 14

[bc56]

Tol Eralta Awakens

The goddess opened her eyes, floating upon the placid sea of the world. She sat up, rising to her feet upon the uneven surface and looking around. She watched for a time. Nothing but water was there as far as the eye could see. Eralta swiftly became bored of the endless repetition of the waves. She gathered chilling and burning power into her hand, then reached out and struck the sea with all her might. The waters roared and were torn asunder. Shards of earth from the sea floor scattered themselves throughout the waters, held afloat by Eralta's power. They drifted throughout the oceans, occasionally colliding with each other, but Eralta became bored of their movements too. She went down to the largest of the Changing Lands and there, from the rock and plants, fashioned a body in her image. She struck the body with her fist, and it broke open. Inside it's rocky womb were two smaller people. They were the first woman and the first man, and they too were in Eralta's image, creatures of creativity and change. Eralta said to the woman, "Go. I give this land to you, for whatever purpose you desire. Go, and be Tol over it, as I am Tol over you." Then, without ceremony, she left to see what else was happening in the world.

After flying about the world, and seeing nothing if interest, just some elves doing peaceful things on an island halfway across the globe. She thought about checking on that later. Bored, she returned to the Changing Lands. Now the human pair she had seen had by now created a small tribe upon the land she had given them. The Tol was then old and soon to die, and her daughters, each matriarchs of their own families, and both of them hoped to become Tol when her time came. The older one, by birthright, would inherit the position, but the younger believed in the legends of the great Tol Eralta who had created all the humans. She prayed fervently, and Eralta heard her cry. She appeared before the matriarch, and heard her complaints, and she found them entertaining. She reached up and broke off a branch from a tree, giving it to the younger sister, and telling her, "When you and your sister are alone, strike her head with this branch, and she shall trouble you no longer." When the woman did as she was bidden, her sister's skull was broken open, and she died. When the old Tol died, the younger sister was annointed as Tol in her place, but it did not last. What she had done was discovered, and it split the clan in two. What one had done, now others would replicate. The clans tried to murder each other and lay claim to the entire island. Tol Eralta looked down upon the growing war and smiled. It would be very, very entertaining.


Starting AP: 16.
Create Land: The Changing Lands [Nature (disasters) 2]
The Changing Lands are a chain of islands adrift in the great sea. They move in unpredictable patterns, sometimes touching so one could walk from one to another, sometimes so far spread apart that from one, there is no other land visible on the horizon. They are tropical in climate, and some are forested, although not all.

Create Sentient Life: Humans [Death: (Violence) 2]
Humans are a race with superior creative potential, given to them by Eralta. They are driven to change their surroundings to suit themselves. However, they are also greedy, fickle, and violent.

Create Society: Human Clans [Death: (Violence) 2]
The human clans are each led by a Tol, a matriarchal position passed from mother to eldest daughter. The clans have not progressed beyond hunting and gathering for food, but they have mastered the use of wooden clubs as weapons.

Create Mundane Concept: Murder [Death: (Violence) 1]
Eralta first planted the idea that someone else can be removed by killing them. Whether they are a rival, an obstacle, or a nuisance, killing them is a very effective solution.

Create Mundane Concept: War [Death: (Violence) 1]
But one murder is not always enough. When entire societies are opposed, they must murder many more people to seize victory.

Domain Progress:
Nature (disasters): 2/10
Death (violence): 6/10

Remaining AP: 8/16

[LordArgon]

The World Pillar of Haldran

Off the coast of Kaolin a great rumbling was heard. The tremors terrified the elves, but after the passing of many years they became just background noise. An entire generation of elves were born during the great tumult, of which many in elven society attributed to an angry earth god waking up. The truth behind the great cacophony was revealed when it suddenly stopped and something new took its place. A massive marble pillar stretched up into the great dome of the sky. It seemed as though it was both perfectly round and horribly misshapen at the same time. The maddening paradoxical pillar loomed over the elves, eliciting both terror and curiosity from them. SOme of the more adventurous elves began to try to reach the great monolith, but their primitive craft could not yet reach it. If they could reach it, they would be greeted by a sprawling complex of interconnected caverns that reached all the way up to the top of the pillar. The cause of these caves are massive metal toothed worms that ground down the rock before consuming it.


AP: 16

Create Land (The World Pillar -2AP): A massive circular column of marble that reaches up into space. Its diameter is about that of Ireland and it is dotted with many caves filled with small sightless fish, amphibians, and other slimy critters.

Create Monstrous Life (Tunnel Wurms -1AP): Starting at the diameter of a basketball for the recently hatched, these massive stone eating worms are the cause for the many caves in the World Pillar. They are primarily white like the stone they consume, but there are some aberrations that are jet black or a rusted red.

Domain(Unaccounted)
(The World Pillar 2AP)
(Tunnel Wurms 1AP)
3/10

16 - 2 -1 = 13AP

[Phobia]

Isodelica in the Rain

And in the beginning there was stillness and it wasn’t good because there was no one there to declare it good or bad. The world was at peace which is to say rather dead. You see, life isn’t really all that friendly to peace.

But then there was chaos and the rain that came down. Storms to churn the waters, droplets to break the surface sending ripples in every direction. Chaos creates life, we know this, and it’s the same from the mortals up to the gods. There is always a bigger fish and the gods are merely the biggest fish, or so they’d like to think. The ocean couldn’t remain still it tossed and turned till it could sleep no longer. So it woke up, or was created, or maybe it was always there in some form. Waiting.

“Ahhh man after an infinity of stillness you really wake up stiff!” The gigantic jellyfish said as it’s globe continuously light up and dimmed with it’s words. “Was it an infinity or was it no time? Gurgle gurgle.” It moved sluggishly and released something like a yawn as the ocean became tainted by its very presence within it.

“Good evening folks! How’s everybody doing tonight?” The great monster jellyfish shouted before using one of it’s tentacles like a mock microphone. “Hello is this thing on?”It asked, surprised by it’s lack of instant applause. “That joke should kill considering it’s the first time a joke has been uttered in this iteration of reality gurgle gurgle.”

“Oh baby! That’s the ticket.” Isoldelica exclaimed, it’s tentacles rising up as one as life sprung forth. “Make me a proper entourage, honey. If no soul was there to praise me the rocks themselves would shout forth my greatness, babies.”

“You are so splendid!”
“You are so mighty!”
“You are so beautiful!”

Thousands of minor creatures were around the gigantic jellyfish now. Starfish, octopi, squids, jellyfish and all manor of other fish who spoke in the common tongue. Some of them painted images of the great monstrosity while others merely tried to get as close as they dare in awe. Most of them merely tried to be acknowledged by their god.

“And there you have it- bada bing bada boom perfect life gurgle gurgle.”

“Your magnificence I don’t seem to have eyes..” Said one of the Entourage, a Sea Sponge.

“Memo to Self: Do some monstrous things to the sea sponges later... You. That means you. Yeah, you, stop looking surprised. You’re my memo guy now. Take that down.” Isoldelica said with annoyance before gesturing at a random sea creature.

“Of course your horrifyingness!”

“The rest of you, places please! I’m your director and we’re right at first curtain, honey. I’m gonna give you some terrible thrills.”

AP: 16

Curse (The Brine): What's funnier than making mortals dependent on water, a plentiful resource? The fact that the only source of water on the planet is unable to be imbued but looking inviting. This prevents it from being consumed by mortals without being filtered naturally into freshwater streams or by mortals. It's very deep blue and tastes very salty. But it's better for the sea life that lives in it, this action being used to create basic sea life, kelp, coral. The magical salt keeps the ocean flowing and churning independent of modern science suggestions like the moon being responsible for the tides. The islands of the elves will grow used to the ocean flooding and receding from their islands. [Chaos (Comedy)]

Curse (Hungas) [1]: By virtue of existing the god of hunger causes this effect in all created life. Every mortal must have a desire, a drive inside, a need to nourish their body, even rock mean or things that don’t need to eat. For most things they have a need to eat food, and nearly everything needs to consume water. But it could be a need for blood that sustains you or maybe souls. It’s a beast inside that wants to consume, that needs it, and without it you may wither and die. [Chaos (Comedy)]

Curse (Famas) [1]: Every mortal accrues FAME from the moment they exist. A mortal soul may continue to exist in the afterlife but if they are forgotten by every living mortal than they’ll eventually fade away and be gone from the universe entirely. Those who do actions of great fame will be rewarded greatly, whether those actions be good or evil matters not. Even in life people will treat the famous better and let them get away with crime a lesser person would not. Most people have a deep hidden hunger for fame because instinctively they know if they run out they’ll suffer final death. Regular people idolize and despise the famous wanting to be them. People are desperate for any shred of fame. [Chaos (Comedy)]

Create Mystical Life (The Entourage) [4]: The Entourage is a group of pseudo-divine creatures that follow Isoldelica constantly in a frenzy of idol-worship and paparazzi. They act as goffers and yes-men, doing whatever is asked and hanging out hoping to be noticed. Dead or alive the creatures of the Entourage come from everywhere and could be anyone. Becoming a part of the Entourage supernaturally keeps them alive and it’s often the last stop for mortals soon to be forgotten. There’s the chance that Isodelica will notice them and make them important again, and being part of the Entourage sustains them briefly. But there’s always the very real chance Isodelica will eat them. [Chaos (Comedy)]

AP: 9

[NontheistCleric]

I Do Not Understand

No memory of the past existed, for there was no past, and in the one sublime moment before the first dream of the future began, existence was simply, gloriously, as it was.

Then Pgones Sop crashed screaming into the surface of the ocean, sending waves and spray in every direction, its substance pervaded with awful, alien water. Eyes blinked and shifted and wept as the being thrashed desperately, flickering slivers of light that glanced across the rippling water dimly revealing the other silhouettes, figures sinuous and angular both, from small likenesses of creatures that promised to be born, one of which was clad in the illuminating flames, to the immensities of the high and perilous shadow of a mountain, an inscrutably twisted three-headed thing and a pillar that reached, it seemed, as Pgones Sop followed the line of its form, far into the starry expanse above.

What expanse there was! Pgones Sop felt all the crushing import of the impossible vastness of Possibility, all the terrible secrets of the universe seeming almost to filter down toward it from the outer dark, and it could bear it no longer. The newborn godling fled down into the lower darkness, away from the open and empty and into the marginally-less-frightening tangibility of the world.

(It was fortunate that Pgones Sop had not noticed one of its fellows, so close by, draped in a slip of the stars themselves, for that might have ended its story then and there through the divine equivalent of cardiac arrest.)

Soon, Pgones Sop was far, far from the surface. Exhausted by the terror of its birth, it sank listlessly through the depths. With every new mote of surrounding it perceived, its trepidation grew, but also a sense of relief at the fact that no threats were yet present, and Pgones Sop felt the first niggling feelers of what it would come to call comprehension. It began to see, to notice, and what it first noticed was this: Things were not the same. The air it had experienced briefly, the water through which it had descended, and now the hard surface it had come to rest upon. Even now, its godly awareness burrowed metaphysical tentacles through the seabed, sensing that certain parts of the rock possessed different qualities from other parts.

Now, with the first meaningful understanding, the first meaningful action could be taken. And so Pgones Sop began its first working, a great web of underground stronghold-tunnels beneath the seas, continually testing each new material it found for suitability and cataloging even the useless in the very walls of its creation. For each possibility of threat its burgeoning deific consciousness alighted upon, a hundred defensive layers and architectural contingencies were thrown up, each sounder and more developed than the last, and the chambers of Pgones Sop spread like a strange fungus beneath the skin of the world. Here, in this small province of reality, was safety, predictability. Of its redoubt, Pgones Sop knew all, understood every last inch.

Yet, although the deity was literally blind to the perils of the outside world, it remained figuratively far from so. It remembered still the first terrifying instant of existence, and it knew that until it ventured without, it would never know if its fortress was truly adequate.

Slowly but surely, construction began in a new direction - upwards.


Not All Factors Were Considered

Twigs snapped and leaves crunched frantically as the panicked young elf fumbled through the undergrowth. They were lost, and knew not whether they was close or far from home, but the light was dying rapidly, the slim bright shafts dropping through the jungle canopy angling ever more sharply as the sun sank lower in the unseen sky. If they did not soon find shelter, or better yet, the path home, they would be left utterly bare to the dangers of the night.

Then a shadowy figure reared up before them, a horrible explosion of velvet and staring eyes that threw clods of earth and vegetation in every direction. The elf was screaming, falling, limbs seizing and heart beating fit to burst, a paralysis half of the body and half of a mortal mind forced to witness an alien divinity up close.

"Well. What are you now? I return to find the others have been so distressingly busy, making all of... this..." The figure lost beneath the eye-adorned cloak seemed to shift, seemingly indicating their surroundings. "But you are so full of possibility. I feel your mind. Not just unknown, but able itself to not know, to imagine... what are you?"

Barely able to speak, the elf stuttered out their name, noticing as they did that the cloaked figure had retreated a short distance away. Was it afraid of them?

"Ah, I see." The voice repeated their name, rolling it over and over, growing calmer as it did. "And are there more of you?"

"Why do you want to know?" they asked, wary that this mysterious being might intend harm to their people. Although they had no family or real friends (why else would they be trying to hunt alone?), they had no desire to see their band destroyed by some monster.

"You are afraid... I can feel it. I have always been afraid, and so I understand. But I mean no harm. I only wish... to understand you.

"I'm... I'm an elf. There are lots of us."

"How many?"

"I don't know, I've never counted. But even that's just my band. Apart from us, there are so many I'm not sure I could even count.' At this, the figure seemed to freeze, and the elf decided to ask it a question of their own. 'Who are you, then?" they asked, voice steadying.

"I am the Sop, and Pgones also. I am the Pgones that is the Sop."

"Oh. Okay. I've never heard of a Pgones or a Sop before."

"Then we are the same. I know nothing of elves... but this cannot continue. Tell me, how do you work?"

"Tell you how I work? What do you mean?"

"How do your limbs work? All those things you are made of, those... substances I can sense? By what mechanism are you thinking? I must know!"

"I... I don't know those things."

"Is there one who would? Another elf?"

"I don't know. I don't know every other elf. But I haven't ever heard of someone who knows anything like that, not really."

"Disappointing. But not entirely unexpected. Tell me, at least, are elves- are you- are you dangerous?"

'Um, sometimes? Anyone can be dangerous, right?' The elf was beginning to feel a kind of bemused sympathy for this strange being, who seemed perhaps even more lost than them.

"Oh, perhaps you are right. A bad question, I think. Then, I have a proposal for you. You yourself can help me discover your workings. What do you say? It would benefit you as much as myself."

"I’ve never really thought about that. But what would I have to do?"

"The first step to finding out how anything works is separating it into its basic components, or so I have generally found it to be. So... if we were to separate you into your basic components..."

"You said you meant no harm!" exclaimed the elf, jumping back and tensing.

"You would not be harmed, I think. It would be just be a different state of existence, assuming I am not very wrong indeed."

"How could you separate me into my 'basic components' without harming me?! What are you?" The elf prepared to run, but could not help a little curiosity.

"Ah." There the voice cut off flatly, as if annoyed. Then, haltingly, it began again. "Well, you see, your problem is not unique. Like you, I do not really know what I am. I do not understand how I do the things that I do." Another pause. "But... I can show you."

The cloak opened, revealing nothing. There was, quite literally, nothing, not even an inside of the cloak. All the elf could see was the dimly-lit forest behind it, as if only the front of the cloak existed. Then the creature turned, and they saw that the rest of it was still there, just invisible from the inside.

The elf opened their mouth. Perhaps to scream, or make a wry comment.

And then it turned out that Pgones Sop was actually answering their first question, not their second. The very fabric of reality seemed to warp as pure divine will surged through it-

-and the elf's skin split in a hundred places, blood and bile and fluids of all sorts fountaining out. Flesh deflated, sloughing off bones and falling in quivering heaps onto the forest floor, their skeleton sagging slightly from the loss of support but, miraculously, remaining upright.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!" shrieked the elf. No longer a physical existence, their consciousness now incorporeally inhabited a point where their brain had been. Somehow, the words formed anyway, vibrations supernaturally spreading through the air. Instinctively, the consciousness understood how to move, and they circled above the devastation of their old self, gaping mentally at the carnage. "What... how could you do this?" they queried querulously.

"Demonstration complete." said Pgones Sop. "That is how I can separate you into your basic components without harming you."

"But- I mean- WITHOUT HARMING?! Look at my body! That! That right there is harm!" screamed the elf.

"Calm yourself. They are fine. Observe! Function preserved, although again, explaining how is the real challenge..." Sop trailed off as the pool of mixed bodily fluids suddenly began to splash and flow of its own accord, while the loose pile of viscera slopped around and the skeleton shook itself clean. "In fact, I'm not sure they could have done those things before. I haven't copied your mind, though. They possess just a rudimentary bit of autonomy."

"I don't want an explanation! Just put me back!"

"Well, if that is what you wish, be silent for a while and let me work."

At this, the elf fell silent, recognizing that although Pgones Sop was acting passively, it was in fact the one holding all the cards in this conversation.

Their patience lasted just until the last rays of sunlight winked out and threw the surrounding jungle into the surprisingly discernible greyscales of a moonless night. If nothing else, the elf new form had appreciably improved night vision. "Are you done?" asked the elf. "You've just been standing there, are you even doing anything?"

The deity's reply was less than promising. "Now, you may need to brace yourself before this next bit of news, but what you need to understand is that it may not be entirely possible to, as you say, 'put you back' at this time. The whole matter seems to have been rather more complicated than I first gave it credit for, to be honest."

'That can't possibly be true, you did this to me in the first place!'

"Maybe so, but this is all the difference between throwing some water onto soil and trying to get that water out of the mud and back into the bucket. Only it is actually immeasurably more complex. I am powerful, you know, but not omnipotent." As Pgones Sop spoke, a indignant rage began to build in the elf, who instinctively tapped into the powers their new form granted. Small rocks, clumps of soil and twigs began to rise from the ground, quivering in midair.

"That was MY BODY!" screeched the elf, hurling the debris in a blind assault at Pgones Sop. "I am going to kill you, you stupid invisible freak! I am- what am I doing?" Makeshift missiles tumbled out of the air.

"I'm not sure," said Pgones Sop, shaking to dislodge the covering of forest refuse it now bore, "but my first thought is that whatever means by which your mind controlled your body when they were connected is now allowing you to control other things, now that I have metaphysically separated the two. I could be wrong, of course, but look! We have some possible answers already!"

"Oh yes, congratulations to you! But what about me, then? I can't go back to my people like... like this!"

"No, perhaps you cannot. I apologize for-" Pgones Sop halted, searching for the right phrase, then continued: "-for any inconvenience caused. But, considering your current predicament, why not come with me? It seems I have no right to ask you any favors, but if we were to study your condition together, I am sure you would gain from it."

The elf barely mustered the self-restraint not to begin screaming again at the description of their predicament as an 'inconvenience', but at the same time they were becoming increasingly aware that not only was this Sop creature being far more considerate than it probably needed to be (though admittedly far less than it perhaps should have been), it was also probably their best hope of reversing the transformation.

"Come with you where?" asked the elf.

"Oh, there is a place, not far from here. It has no name as of yet, for until recently I had never left it, and needed nothing to mark it out from all the other somewheres of the world. But perhaps that will change soon enough. I take it that you will come?" came the reply.

In the end, it was almost no choice at all. The elf had no close friends or family in their own band, and though it would be a long time before they ever admitted to it, being an intangible telekinetic spirit had already begun to grow on them. Already they were noticing the absence of all the myriad little aches and discomforts one learns not to notice when living in a body of flesh.

"Right now?"

"Well, I suppose we could stand around here for a little longer, if you prefer."

"No, I didn't mean... never mind. Let's just go." For the first time, the disembodied elf drew consciously on their newly innate magic, sending a commanding spark of power through the skeleton and the messes of viscera and fluid. The creatures sprung to attention, or as far to attention as they could, and then, in a swirl of eye-streaked cloak, the strange troupe departed the forest.

They would be back, of course, not just to the forest but the world at large, for the quest for understanding never ends, although it may often trip up over itself.

But those are stories for another day.

Create Mundane Concept (1AP): Elements
The idea that the world is made of basic substances that are not themselves combinations of other substances, whether these are the classic fire/earth/air/water or some alternate system.
Domain: Knowledge (geology) 1/10

Create Land (2AP): Jgeir
Jgeir is a vast network of fortified tunnels that spans beneath the surface of the world. Various protruding sections allow access to the surface. Since its inception at the beginning of the world, numerous sections have been abandoned in favor of better-constructed newer areas, or simply collapsed as a result of poor design. These leftovers, by now certainly far more extensive than the currently maintained Jgeir, have taken on a wild aspect. The only evidence that these 'caves' were in fact not natural structures but constructed is the stratification of minerals left in their walls, the remnants of Pgones Sop's attempts to separate out different kinds of rock. Water and magma flow and pool freely in these areas, in stark contrast to the careful canals they are marshaled into within the civilized regions of 'Jgeir proper', and although Jgeir was originally completely sterile, the lack of maintenance has allowed various forms of life to migrate into the abandoned halls from the lands and seas above.

In Jgeir proper, the relatively small area still maintained by the followers of Pgones Sop, the variety of architectural styles reflects not only the long period the deity had to refine its designs even before the first outsider, most commonly held to be an elf, ever set foot inside the structure, but also the diversity of the ideas introduced by the slow influx of immigrants before that time. Old Pgones Sop-era construction is easily identifiable by a trend towards clear lines and open spaces, although many of the deity's followers still do attempt to emulate this in newer chambers. Jgeir was created without life in mind, and indeed, the living among its inhabitants must still forage in the caves for food, consisting mostly of fungi and certain small cave-dwelling organisms such as salamanders, fish and insects. Fortunately, there is ample area in which to do so until some form of agriculture is introduced.
Domain: Knowledge (architecture) 2/10

Create Mythical Concept (4AP): Sarcomancy
Sarcomancy is a branch of magic that focuses on manipulating the physicality of living creatures. A mortal adaptation of the powers used by Pgones Sop to 'dissect' its first follower, it can split flesh and bone apart, knit them back together, and keep creatures or pieces of them alive even when it would normally be impossible. Bodily functions can also be modified, for example, causing a creature to weep uncontrollably or have heightened adrenaline levels. Especially advanced applications may even allow brain functions and intelligence to be enhanced. At the highest levels of mastery, practitioners of sarcomancy can permanently alter themselves or other creatures, potentially creating whole new species. Sarcomancy can even separate the consciousness of a creature from its physical form completely, creating scires (see below), but except in fringe cases, the resultant disembodied consciousness will cease to be directly susceptible to sarcomancy as it no longer possesses physicality.
Domain: Knowledge (biology) 4/10

Create Mythical Life (4AP): Scires
Scires, like most of Pgones Sop's creations, are not original but rather based on whatever creature underwent, willingly or unwillingly, the sarcomantic process of being split into the parts of its sum. Specifically, they are the disembodied consciousnesses of such creatures. They exhibit greatly heightened intelligence compared to their former selves, to the point that even animals normally considered unintelligent can be made into scires capable of interacting roughly as equals with other scires. In addition, they remain able to affect the physical world through telekinesis and have an innate grasp of sarcomancy, as it is heavily involved in their creation, although lacking physical bodies themselves, they are usually unable to be affected by the magic themselves. Scires are unable to reproduce whatsoever, at least in this stage of their evolution. Instead, they must find creatures to 'deconstruct' into their components, whereupon the newly disembodied consciousnesses become new scires, while the skeleton (if any), fluids and flesh survive as the creatures known as humours, viscerals and skeletons (see below), which they have a natural sarcomantic command over. They rarely do this to an unwilling creature, as this would create a new and powerful enemy, but it is possible, should they wish it.
Domain: Knowledge (biology) 8/10

Create Monstrous Life (1AP): Humours
Humours, like most of Pgones Sop's creations, are not original but rather based on whatever creature underwent, willingly or unwillingly, the sarcomantic process of being split into the parts of its sum, though 'original' humours can arise though their reproductive processes. Specifically, they are the bodily fluids of such creatures given independent life. What intelligence they have is rudimentary and left alone by the scires, they instinctually seek out new fluids, which they can incorporate into themselves even if they are not biological. There is a huge variance in viscosity, acidity and alkalinity among humours, and some are viscous and intelligent enough to be able to pull themselves into specific, if simple, shapes. If a humour grows large enough, it can split part of itself off into a 'daughter'. More corrosive humours and viscerals are often used for tunneling by the scires, who use their innate sarcomancy to enhance the natural acids to the point where they are able to melt stone and metal.
Domain: Knowledge (biology) 9/10

Create Monstrous Life (1AP): Viscerals
Viscerals, like most of Pgones Sop's creations, are not original but rather based on whatever creature underwent, willingly or unwillingly, the sarcomantic process of being split into the parts of its sum, though 'original' viscerals can be born through reproductive means. Specifically, they are the flesh of such creatures, deprived of skeletons and enough bodily fluid so that they don't leak everywhere, although they are not desiccated. Divorced from their higher consciousness (if there was previously one), they tend to retain intelligence slightly superior to that of the humours, due to still possessing whatever nervous systems the creature formerly had. Along with the more acidic varieties of humour, they are often used by the scires in tunneling efforts, their natural acids being sarcomantically enhanced to be able to melt stone. Alone of the creations of Sop, they are able to reproduce sexually, and the sarcomantic energies of their creation allow for unprecedented hybridisation. Usually, they mate only with one another, the result being another visceral of some variety, but in theory, they could reproduce with a member a species close enough to the 'base stock' of the visceral. However, as no such union has yet taken place, what it would produce is as yet unknown. Additionally, unlike the other creations of Sop, they require food, drink and sleep to remain functional.
Domain: Knowledge (biology) 10/10

Create Monstrous Life (1AP): Skeletons
Skeletons, like most of Pgones Sop's creations, are not original but rather based on whatever creature underwent, willingly or unwillingly, the sarcomantic process of being split into the parts of its sum, though it is possible for scires to grow 'original' skeletons through sarcomantic means. Essentially, they are the independently motile skeletons (both endo- and exo- varieties) of creatures whose other parts were turned into scires, humours and viscerals. They are the least intelligent of the lot and although it does happen, they rarely take action without direction from a scire. Due to the fact that the sarcomantic energies involved in their creation keep them in a state that is technically 'alive', similar magic applied from outside sources (again, usually a scire) can grow new skeletal structures and even whole new members of the species from base bone or exoskeleton stock.
Domain: Knowledge (architecture) 3/10

Form Society (2AP): Jgeiran Society
Jgeiran society is currently dominated by the scires, who, apart from the occasional adherent of Pgones Sop who has simply not undergone the transformation yet, are the only sapient inhabitants of the underground complex. Given that they are largely free of material needs, social status is largely predicated both on the size of one's body of knowledge and capacity for reason and logical thinking. Jgeirans who are superlative in one or both of these categories are more likely to respected and listened to, although hoarding knowledge and teaching is frowned upon, at least in theory. Skeletons, humours and viscerals largely serve as beasts of burden, being set to menial tasks or having their biologies modified to perform specific functions. In fact, most Jgeiran 'technology' is so far based on organisms enhanced by sarcomancy. For example, when light sources are needed but lava is deemed too hazardous to use for whatever reason, a humour is often dispatched to collect bioluminescent organisms whose light emissions the scires can then regulate to desired levels. Various surface organisms are also present in Jgeir, but these are mostly imported research specimens and not meant for other purposes.
Domain: Society (communication) 2/10

Remaining AP: 0

[Buufreak]

The Epitaph of Twilight

The vast nigh-infinite of the world and all around it seemed to travel on endlessly. Darkness filled the very void of existence. To be was to not see. To not feel or to know. An endless abyss of purity. A purity of nothingness. A nothingness for all of space and time.

And then it wasn't. The world was shunted into existence, and there was a something. A teaming something, filled with endless possibility and wonder, capable of truly anything.

Well, nearly anything.

Almost immediately, without any sign of warning or of stopping, life began on this small rock that occupied the cosmos. Life that was mobile and immobile. Life that was consumptive and self-sustaining. Life that could manage to survive even the harshest of conditions, and life that was so very delicate that the slightest fault could cause it to wither.

But only would it wither, and then be trapped to suffer in this state for all-ways and for-ever. This began the first motions of the End-Bringer, who was content to only watch as this small semblance of life began to crawl and breathe. Should life fail, should it be unable to sustain what is deemed life, too would Death be upon it, and take it swiftly so that life's miserable existence could be snuffed out without suffering. This was the first inevitability of the Inevitable.

But for some, life was too hard to not cling to, that to their very last breath and sight, would they curse Death and see it as a punishment. These few, who could manage such a thought, they were different. Made of different mettle. Cleft from different star dust. Perhaps even touched by the Stars themselves. They would not go peacefully into the Ever After.

And so, designed and crafted for these such few, would be an infinitum. A realm that would exist for as long as their notions would, capable of housing and sustaining their thoughts and minds and feelings and beliefs for as such a time that they simply faded with the passing of time. Here, they would not wither. Here, they would not decay. It was giving the name Asylum, and placed amongst the stars above, and bridged such that only may the manifestation of mortality enter, but not their body, and that none would leave. For what could possibly want to leave behind the very embodiment of their own desire and design.

But this, too, was problematic. The world would begin to fester with an infection of Death upon it, but no means of removal. Eventually, all holes will fill. Another Boon, then, that without the presence of life, should life begin to go beyond withering, and return to the astral dust that cultivated it to stand. The world would serve as its own means to reuse what can not be returned, and to wash away the remnants of past life, so that Death could become the new life.

This is the way the Inevitable has seen it to be, and that it Should be.

To watch is To see, and with Time, all Things will be seen.


Blessing: Death; that all may die when deprived of life, so that suffering is not.
Blessing: Decay; so that Death will not be plentiful in the world, and the resources of life can return to the world and bring new life.
Weave Plane: Asylum; a land of whimsy and willpower, that those with the consciousness strong enough to attempt to cling to life when Death approaches, can find their peace amongst their own wants and convictions.
Create Bridge: Asylum; an intentionally one way path, composed of star dust itself, made to ferry those who have been shunted from life by Death, but still desperately fight for their own ideals, into the afterlife so they may continue without their mortal coil.

8/10 Fate (Afterlife)

[mystic1110]

Progeny

The alchemist’s apprentice was tired. Often it was thought that alchemy was glamorous, that masters can make rare metals and miraculous cures. And this is true, but the practice is tedious; or at least for the apprentice. Many mixtures need to be made, liquids diluted, powders measured carefully, glassware needed to cleaned, meticulous notes maintained, various insects and roots needed to be ground with a mortar and pestle, the workroom needed to be swept, the master’s food needed to be prepared, vapors needed to be captured, signs needed to be interpreted. It was work and it was exhausting.

Often at night the apprentice would look out the window at the moons and dream of another life. A life with elves his own age and who he could talk to. He hadn’t talked to anyone but his master in over a year now. He almost feared that he forgot how to speak other than in a response to a barked command. He sighed and went to sleep, preparing for another day of drudgery. How he wished that his life was more interesting . . . skkkt, skkkt, the spiders underneath the bed, in the corner of the lab, that crawled among the organic refuse of the alchemist’s experiments and rituals, they wove their webs . . .

Upon waking and his morning oblations to the gods, the apprentice walked into the lab to find that his Master was dressed in his finest outfit. The Master told him to hurry up and get ready for they were due to attend the wedding of one of the Master’s peer’s. The Master’s peer was a well-known alchemist who was an ally to many of the Master’s projects and as such this wedding was an important event for the two of them. The apprentice had totally forgot about it.

He quickly dressed and left with his Master towards the Peer’s town. He was excited – he hadn’t seen other people in a long while and they do say that many weddings come from wedding meetings. From one comes eight as the saying goes. He fixed up his hair hoping to strike a good impression, as an apprentice alchemist he would make a good catch for a girl as soon as he graduated from underneath his Master.

They arrived just in time for the Wedding. The Peer was an old man and his bride seemed like a young girl, younger than the apprentice he was for sure. They walked down the aisle made of their guests and then stood in front of the cleric. Often it was up to the couple to choose which God’s cleric presided over the ceremony, the Storm Father was always a popular choice and the Peer was not one to buck tradition. The Cleric motioned for them to tie a silk wrap around their hands so that they were bound together. He then asked them if they were ready to stand against the storm, if they will help rebuild each other’s lives for anything in its wake, whether they loved each other and vowed that they were only meant for each other, always and forever? In front of the witnesses, in front of the gods? He didn’t mention the spiders, but no one thought about them . . . The Peer and his Bride said yes. The cleric then made them circle each other eight times to seal their commitment, and then bid whether anyone would shed blood to consecrate this union. The apprentice’s master stepped forward. The priest took out a dagger and made a shallow cut on the Master’s hand and then the master gripped the white silk wrapping the couples’ hands. As the silk turned red the priest smiled and declared the couple Man and Wife.

And then the celebrations started. They danced and drank. Every family and visiting Alchemist seemed to have brought their own personal brew. The apprentice danced with a beautiful girl. He barely remembers her name, all he recalls was hey coyly tucking her hair behind one of her long. They danced the whole night, under the moons. She took him by the hand and led him behind one of the houses and then placed her hand behind his head and pulled him towards her. She kissed him and her lips were as sweat as mead. He grabbed her waist and she moved closer to him, their legs intertwined and they tripped onto the soft grass. They laughed at each other and with each other. They rolled around, a bug, a spider was crushed in their young love, and they were happy.

When he came back to his bed and passed out, dizzy with liquor and wine he dreamed of her, he dreamed of dancing and wrapping his hands and her hands in white silk. He dreamed of promises and the rewards of promises kept. He dreamed . . . skkkt, skkkt, the spiders in the room were asleep as well. They dreamed of flies caught and meals to be eaten.

When he woke up the same routine took over his life. Many mixtures need to be made, liquids diluted, powders measured carefully, glassware needed to cleaned, meticulous notes maintained, various insects and roots needed to be ground with a mortar and pestle, the workroom needed to be swept, the master’s food needed to be prepared, vapors needed to be captured, signs needed to be interpreted. And all the while he dreamed of the girl he danced with at the wedding and possibly approaching her.

He was lying in his bed one day thinking of her when he saw a spider on the wall. It was just a spider but it was still another living being. Outside his Master he hadn’t seen anything else since the Wedding. On a whim, a hilarious impulse he decided to practice with the spider. He looked at the spider on the wall and said “spider, I love you, will you marry me? I will be yours forever and you will be mine. Always” he laughed at the absurdity of it. Asking a spider for marriage. He repeated it, grinning, and then left the room shaking his head off to do some chores.

The spider though, didn’t see it as a joke. Its grandmother took such declarations seriously. The apprentice may not have understood the spider’s language, but in reply to his question and promise the spider said ‘me too skkkt always and forever’.

And the days passed in repetition, the apprentice sometimes noticing that a spider was always near him. He tried to shoo it away sometimes but it seemed the same spider always returned to his side. Eventually he took to giving it morsels of his meat and sometimes prepared sugar water for it. It was a pet and he jokingly called it ‘Beloved’. Looking at the spider he thought of the girl from the wedding. Soon though it seemed like his apprenticeship would end, his Master told him that he would take the alchemist test by years end only a couple months away. He was excited and delirious with joy. Soon he will be a master and soon he will ask the girl for her hand.

A week of study passed and it was late at night, he was studying an obscure alchemic tome that he was sure he would be tested on. The only light was the warm and weak flickering candle. The spider that apparently hovered near him at all times was on the corner of the desk, but seemed anxious. It was moving left and right erratically, in the back of his mind he wondered if something was wrong, what was it worried about . . . .

Almost in answer there was a crash and his candle blew out. He jumped up with a start and tried to find his tinder to start another fire. He didn’t hear anything, but there was a new spider in the room, she crawled through the door, barely, but silently and she approached him, her fangs large and her legs spreading out throughout the room. The apprentice started a new fire and his first sight was the large spider, her eight eyes, each swirling with amethyst light, but mostly he just saw her as a spider as large as the room, her head inches from his own. He tried to scream but he couldn’t. He was gagged but his throat was frozen in terror. And then, impossibly the Great Spider spoke.

Son, dear Son is that how you greet your Mother in Law? When you wed my granddaughter I had thought you had better manners. You were so skkkt charming! But I am so pleased to meet you, my nest is always growing but you were the first one with only two legs among my family.

The great spider extended one of her long legs towards the writing desk. The small spider, the apprentice’s apparent wife, crawled upon the leg and kept crawling until it was on the great spider’s head.

But you must remember my boy, a family has a purpose skkkt beyond love and companionship. You need children. You need to make your own nest. My granddaughter is worried that you have not seeded her eggs. I myself am worried as well skkkt. I hope you take your duties as a husband more seriously. I expect to find more grandchildren when I return at the years end.

And with that the great spider reached with her legs to take the smaller spider off her face and she placed the tip of the leg on the apprentice’s face to allow the smaller spider to crawl onto her husband. With that the great spider leaned in further and ‘kissed’ the apprentice on the cheek with one of her poisoned fangs and then crawled out of the house, leaving the Husband and ‘Wife’ alone. Years end, the apprentice thought hysterically, he had to pass his alchemist test and father a child with a goddamn spider. . .

The next day the whole thing seemed like a dream but he quickly disabused himself of the notion when he saw that same spider still following him expectantly. The events of the night before still made his blood run cold but he was an alchemist and he solve this. Obviously he couldn’t impregnate spider, but perhaps with alchemy . . .

He asked his Master that day in the laboratory if it was possible to change one animal to another. His Master put down his instruments and looked at him seriously. He told him that it was – it was called transfiguration. Most alchemy was transmutation and transfiguration was a sort of branch of that tree. However, it was a rickety branch, dangerous to climb. He warned the apprentice not to study it until he was ready to become a master – perhaps use it for his thesis. To properly perform a transfiguration took years of study. The apprentice publicly thanked his master but secretly despaired. He didn’t have years. If he was to bear a spider children by years end he needed to transfigure it into a girl . . . hopefully maybe even the girl of his dream he thought unbelievably.

And so every night instead of studying for his exam he stole his Master’s books and tried to learn the secret of transfiguration. It was complicated, his Master did not lie. It was unlike the rest of alchemy that he studied – there was less clear lines, less logic. The symbols looped into themselves and out of themselves and often were just that, symbolic instead of descriptive. All he knew was that it would require blood. To turn something into something else a death would need to occur. The sands of time were falling, and he was growing desperate. He didn’t want to fail the great spider.

In desperation, knowing he only had a week or two till its return he crept into his Master’s room. He didn’t bear love for his Master, but he did respect him. The Master was not terrible to him and he gave him this great chance, but if he failed in his quest then it was all for naught. He needed to kill his Master he thought in a crazed state of mind. He was panicking, his thinking delirious with fright. He held a knife in his hand and loomed over his sleeping Master. He japed down with all the strength he could muster and punctured the snoring old man’s gut. The Master woke with a pained scream and as he laid dying looked at the boy and whispered ‘why’ more confused than angry. Skkkt, the spiders on the ceiling of the Master’s room watched in anticipation.

The apprentice arranged all the materials necessary for the transfiguration, the liver and heart of his Master, the oils and acids, the powders . . . just one more thing. He reached onto his right cheek where he knew the small spider that was his apparent ‘Wife’ resided these days and let her crawl onto his finger. He deposited her onto the arcane symbol he drew and began the alchemic ritual. He chanted for a couple minutes and poured the liquids and lit the fires as prescribed and then a flash . . . a crash and smoke.

Skkkt, the top of the smoke cleared and he saw a beautiful naked woman with black hair so long that it went past the smoke still shrouding half the room. She was tall and seemed to loom over him but she was gorgeous. She leaned over to him with arms outstretch and said “husband you are a genius, and I love you always and forever, there is nothing you could not do” and he was exhausted and closed his eyes, tired from murder and the events of his foolish joke those months ago. The woman who was a spider kissed him. It was a magical kiss, her lips were as sweet as poison. Skkkt. He felt that she still had some fangs in her mouth with his tongue, but they were small. Skkkt. He open his eyes and tried to immediately drown a scream. She looked at him lovingly, but she looked at him with eight eyes still. Her face was the most gorgeous elf face he ever saw, but along with the two eyes he expected she had six others, much smaller, arranged on her face. Skkkt.

The fog cleared and he let out a scream verbally now, for while her top half was the pinnacle of elvish beauty the bottom was a large spider . . . perhaps even larger than the great spider that attacked him those months ago. She was an abomination. She looked at him coquettishly and let out a laugh ‘oh husband you’re so funny, but this is no laughing matter, I must conceive before grandmother comes’ and he tried to respond but he couldn’t, all that came out was gibberish. He couldn’t help but vomit and the abomination Skkkt crawled to him and over him and then took him in her harms as she hugged him close, her breasts soft, her abdomen like hard wood, and she stroked his hair and told him that she would take care of him in all ways.

His Wife wrapped him in silk and then wove a silk web around the house such that no one could see what would occur within. One could hear muffled screams if they pressed their ear to the web but no one did for the alchemist’s house was far from the village and it was not unusual for him to be absent until he needed new provisions or was visiting another alchemist. The Wife conceived a brood of eggs with her Husband, they were translucent things, one could see the fetal spurts of creatures to be – mere shadows. When the great spider returned she would coo over these eggs like a grandmother spoiling her grandchildren, she would leave happy and delighted that the marriage had proved so fruitful.

And, let it be known that this was not false love, she loved this man who turned her into this new existence, and she was still a Spider, but also now an Elf. She was Arachne and this man had her devotion. She would worship him with her affections, her love.

However, let it also be said that her love was draining, that he was wrapped in silk unable to move and that he had only enough fluid in him to look into her eight eyes and whisper the same phrase over and over ‘forever and always’.


AP: 14

Create Sub-Concept (2AP) - Transfiguration. Transfiguration is Alchemy that can mirror Sarcomancy. However, unlike Sarcomancy, Transfiguration requires fresh blood for the alchemical process to work. It is a very tricky branch of Alchemy and is prone to accidents.

Create Sub-Race (1 AP) - Arachne. Arachne are creatures of Alchemy, at the moment they are half giant spider and half the most beautiful elf. They are 99% women, so there are very rare male Archne who are treated like the spoiled sons of the race. Arachne rarely mate with other Arachne. They usually choose a "husband" among the other mortal races and use that poor unfortunate to create a nest. When the husband eventually dies that Arachne becomes a "Widow" and will not choose another mate. Most children of an Arachne are simple spiders, some are even of the race of the "husband" - its actually rare for Arachne to give birth to another Arachne. This is because they are not a natural race, but instead a race made from Alchemy. While Arachne are half spider half eld at this point they can be of any mortal race. All Arachne recognize each other as one race regardless of what the non-spider half is.

Create Organization (1 AP) - The Woven Children. An Arachne brood is huge, but most of the eggs hatch into regular spiders. One or two hatch into another Arachne. The rest hatch into children of the race of the Arachne's husband. The Arachne loves each of her children equally. The spider and the mortal. These children usually grow up in the forests or caves where their mother lives, they are her guards and act as dutiful daughters and sons. However, sometimes they join their equivalent mortal societies later in life. They have trouble adjusting - they grew up a little wild and with different ideas of how creepy spiders and bugs are. They also have really really strict views about monogamy. . . .

Curse (1AP) - All users of Sarcomancy will innately feel the strangeness of all creations of Transfiguration and everyone who uses Transfiguration will metaphysically taint themselves which users of Sarcomancy will recognize. In effect, Sarcomancers will pick up on the wrongness of transfigured beings and feel that that Alchemists that delve into Transfiguration are committing some type of Sin. These effects are dilutive in terms of how close to the Alchemy the creation is. For example a Sacromancer will see an Arachne as an abomination, but a Woven Child will only make them feel a tingle of offness, so slight they will think its just a headache.

Magic (Mistakes)
1 AP - Curse (Sacromancy vs. Transfiguration)
2 AP - Transfiguration
3/10

Civilization (Arachne)
1 AP – Spiders
1 AP – Marriage
1 AP - The Woven Children
1 AP - Arachne
4/10

AP: 9

[FlyingCheseCake]

“Deepest Dark. Brightest Dawn.”

This is the way it begins. The way it always begins. It was neither a flash of light, nor a grand fanfare.

It begins with screams.

Screams of agony, cries of woe, and shouts of despair. It was the chorus of a dying reality, and the birth of hope into a new one. But for all the cacophony, in this reality, this here and now, there was naught but silence. In the skies above the First World there was nothing, and then, in the heartbeat between seconds, there was the Shattered Moon. Crazed fracture lines could be seen crawling across its burnt sienna face from the land below, and a full third had been utterly smashed and trailed behind, a bride’s train of rubble.

Borne from a reality that may have never been, and certainly that was no more, those screams were beyond the ken of this one. The screams in this reality, however, became all too common. Not all of the debris cleaved from the moon followed sedately behind. Some careened wildly off into the nothingness above...and yet still some of it fell to the First World, below.

==============

Consciousness was...surreal.

Everything was familiar, but it was as if seen slightly to the left of where one expected to be looking from. Some sensations were heightened, and others muted. It was all rather bewildering.

The conflagration that had briefly raged was hardly noticed, nor was the twisted and ruptured machinery that surrounded the entity. Of those muted senses, its fragmented memory was the most distressing. There was a reason for it, a purpose to exist for. A...something. The fleetingness of its thoughts were frustrating, and it reached out for a bit of detritus with a tendril of shadow, small rays of lights occasionally lancing out not unlike sunlight through a storm head, and whipped it across the room.

It made no sound.

Of course, in a vacuum, it wouldn’t make a sound. It had also sailed through the space where a wall should have been, but instead opened into the vast nothingness. The selfsame gap whence all of the air fueling the great fires had been driven. The entity reached itself out to the edges and pulled, gliding over to where the floor ended in jagged wreckage. Its passage disturbed some charred debris, briefly revealing the remains of a sign over a doorway deeper into the machine, “Ra….H...t...e...K...” It paused a moment, tried to recall the remainder of the notice and the meaning of the three-bladed image below it, and then moved on.

Approaching the edge, it gazed down upon the world over which it now orbited. It had stood in a similar spot, gazing down on a similar, yet different world, and the juxtaposition was briefly disorienting. Crimson streaked the sky below, debris blazing toward the ocean and islands lying quiet and serene. Most ended with a brief flash of steam as they impacted the sea, but others culminated in golden flares of destruction across some of the larger landmasses, while a singularly immense flash signaled the death-knell of one of the smaller islands. More spectacular were the multitude of blasts rippling across the face of a colossal pillar of stone that appeared to rake the very heavens. For a moment, the entity looked onto a long dead world caught in the tortured grip of battle waged across its entirety, a world from which hope itself had been launched. And it remembered…

The ENEMY...the last hope….the DIRECTIVE!

The entity spun about and raced from the gap, deeper into the wounded machine. Unnoticed, the remaining shreds of papers fluttered in the entity’s passing, “Radiological Hazard Containment. Keep Out.”

Over melted wreckage, around collapsed structures; brief glimpses of portions of the vast construction teased tantalizing hints of memories...gargantuan pistons, immense tiered bays, endless serpentine coils of cables and piping...all displaying evidence of the violence of its arrival...but it did not pause its heedless charge. It had remembered!

Spinning through a final entrance way that appeared to have survived better than most, the entity finally slowed its pace. It was in an antechamber, haphazardly lit by the pitifully few remaining lamps, that opened into a cavernous space, its dimensions lost to the distance and darkness. Among the shadows along the walls regular alcoves held hulking, angular, multi-limbed forms. They hung motionless above the grated deck, locked into clamps at the shoulders.

Ignoring everything else, the entity continued to float forward until it came up against a railing, miraculously pristine among the catastrophic destruction wrought elsewhere. With effort, its form condensed and darkened, driving its will out into the darkness, searching until, with a POP, a single lamp flickered on. Followed by another. And then yet another, further along. Like a metronome, the thumping of switching relays marched deep into the distance, each heralding a new light source until they were lost to perspective.

The sight revealed brought a sense of relief to the entity. Arrayed above, below, and along each bulkhead, row after endless row of monumental obelisks of the deepest ebony, each encapsulating a population from worlds from before. They couldn’t save them all, hardly a fraction worth mentioning, but the hope that the silent constructs represented was a treasure beyond belief, especially in the face of...of…

The entity’s frustration briefly flared, again. It knew they had fought something...fought, lost, and were reaped like a harvest. But it couldn’t remember…

THUMP

The vibration reverberated through the deck plating and up the railing. The entity turned about and stared into the gloom. A trio of vibrant violet points of light stared back, and then rocked slightly as they approached, the silence of the quadruped's motion at violent odds to the way its heavy strides shook the decking.

The construct loomed over the entity, and while it did not speak, it did communicate...somehow. The entity could feel its query, could taste its essence, a reflection of itself.

“IDENTIFY.”

Of course it would ask such a thing! The darkness swirling about the entity roiled, reflecting its inner turmoil. It didn’t remember! How could it not know!? There was the ENEMY, the hope, the new world below. There was nothing else, except…

“Rahtek.”

The harsh light thrown by the arc lamps glittered across the construct’s carapace as it shifted its weight in consideration. It did not recognize the name, but it did recognize its reflection in the entity before it, kindred in its design and purpose. The violet lights flared.

“DIRECTIVE.”

Rahtek turned back to the monoliths stretching seemingly to infinity. It gazed in momentary silence, deriving some strength in the hope they represented. “Unchanged. We shelter and prepare them for this world. They will prosper, or they won’t. Until they face that trial, they are our charge.” Rahtek’s fragmented memory briefly flashed, this time of the recent past. “We will extend that directive to this world and its peoples.” It turned back to face the three violet lights, “The enemy will come. This reality is as threatened as we are, whether they realize it or not.”

“PURPOSE.”

It faced the ranks of glinting ebony a final time. “Recover. Learn of this place. Prepare ourselves so that we may prepare them. All of them. The trial, victory or defeat, is theirs. Until then, the directive stands.” Rahtek recalled what shards of memory he could of the final fear and horror that drove them to this point.

“Never again.”



AP 16

Create Major Artifact (5 AP) – Haven, The Shattered Moon. Carved and forged into the very roots of a hollowed planetoid, Haven was designed as the final hope of the last few species of a dying reality. As they fought and sacrificed to purchase each and every blood-soaked moment that they could from an implacable foe, the collective peoples of dozens of worlds were preserved deep within their ark. At the very last, the ENEMY came before they were truly ready. The psychic scream of the defenders of the final bastion, watching their supposed hope of sanctuary become as ash, ripped the fabrication from that reality to this one. However, it had never been meant for such a journey, and it was lashed and twisted by unspeakable energies, leaving it forever changed and marked. The halls of Haven now hold untold treasures of equipment, supplies, technology, and other forgotten knowledge, all distorted beyond their original purpose and as like to be completely useless as a danger to those that stumble upon its secrets. Utility: -1 AP to Create Sub-Concept once per week.

Curse (1 AP) – Moonfall. Never designed to withstand the titanic forces of crossing realities, and already heavily damaged by the great ENEMY’s final sally, a full third of the moon that Haven was wrought from was shattered and broken into tremendous pieces of rubble, small only in comparison to the whole they were struck from. Discharging intense energies into the air, much of this debris fell upon the First World in those first few days, turning portions of the land below into scorched, pocked wasteland while leaving other portions pristine. Ever since, an occasional piece will still streak across the firmament and fall to the world, often causing a brief yet intense electrical storm in its wake. Of course, having come from the great machine of Haven, not all of the detritus was mere stone, and some secrets may have survived their fiery descent.

Create Mythical Race (4 AP) – Mn’Sys. The structure of Haven was not alone in its unexpected transformation, for the very crew that valiantly fought to bring the ark to a safe harbor, and the systems and consoles they served at, were also warped by their experience. The frail flesh could not withstand the transition, exposed as it was, but their unwavering duty and hope was preserved. Now, spirits twined with the very machines they stood their final watch with, they continue to serve Haven in the steadfast belief that it can still complete its hallowed mission. Given the dozens of species that labored to construct Haven and the countless machines necessary for such an artifice to succeed, the Mn’Sys may take many forms and the balance of soul and code can vary greatly. The most common form currently found aboard Haven are those of quadrupedal servitors. Made of a durable, forgotten material, these Labr-Xo are simultaneously responsible for many mundane maintenance tasks as well as common security, and are surmounted by a number of smaller articulated appendages necessary to perform finer work and utilize equipment.

Force (Electromagnetism)
5 AP – Haven
1 AP – Moonfall
4 AP – Mn’Sys
10/10

6 AP Remaining

[bc56]

Broken Skies, Broken People, Broken Earth

Eralta watched the humans battle each other for years, but eventually became tired of their constant fighting. She had seen them kill each other over and over, and it had become an endless cycle. Taking up the winds in her hands, she resolved to do something about it.
Eralta descended on the island the humans called home and struck at it with the winds. With great force, it was lifted from the sea and shattered, and it, with all the people upon it. The fragments were hurled across the face of the world with the people on them.
Miraculously, no one was even injured. The humans, shocked and disoriented, find themselves in new, unfamiliar locations, both inside and out of the Changing Lands. Slowly, their former conflict evaporated, as they explored their new surroundings, established new tribes with new Tols, and spread out from their new homes.
Eralta watched all this, and found it interesting. She decided to return and see what happens later.
She wandered the world for a time, but she did return.
Now, one of the scattered human tribes had landed on a large island within the Changing Lands. Their Tol truly enjoyed killing, both of people and beasts, and often invented new and cruel manners to do so. She called out to Eralta, asking for the power and strength to kill more things in new ways.
She should not have asked, for Eralta was truly amused. She reached down to the Tol and tore her spirit from her body, leaving an empty shell behind. She released the spirit into the wilderness. "Go. Build yourself a new body as you see fit, one powerful and deadly as you desire." Then Eralta left. Days later, a creature emerged from the wilderness of the island, attacking the now leaderless village. The thing was conglomerated from the beasts and landscape of the wilds, a hairy, many-legged insect made from twisted, gnarled wood. It demolished several houses and killed over a dozen people, before retreating back into the jungle, driven back by torches and bonfires. No one connected it to their deceased Tol. The small tribe had repeated skirmishes with the beast, and through it grew and developed in their combat skill. They became far stronger than they began, and when they finally killed the beast, Eralta appeared before them. "You have done well to destroy the beast I sent against you, my children. Take this power, and use it to subjugate those which I do not send." She broke off one of the slain monster's fangs and gave it to the newest Tol. "With this, the monstrous creatures of the world will hear your call, and emerge from the shadows to serve you. But do not grow complacent, or they will rise against you and devour you." With that, she disappears once more.
Eralta turns away from the successful warriors and leaps, ever upwards, a bright comet flying against the storm of debris from a newly appeared moon.

Starting AP 8/16
Bless: Human Diaspora [Nature (disasters) 3/10]
Bored with the humans' constant war, Eralta scattered them to the four winds. Humans now live on every landmass, and will show up on new landmasses as they appear.

Create Monstrous Life: Miscreated [Nature (Disasters) 4/10]
If a person is cruel and murderous enough, they may attract the attention of Eralta, who will allow them to make a new body for themselves from materials in the wilderness. Miscreated are monstrous creatures made from odd materials, from flesh to glass to living salt, whatever the host spirit decides on, in a shape they choose (although rarely humanoid). Their minds are mutilated by the experience, and left with little more than bestial rage.

Create Mundane Concept: Tactics [Death (violence) 7/10]
Some tribes of humans have developed ways to fight and work together for greater effect than they ever could alone. A team is far more effective than a group of lone warriors.

Create Minor Artifact: Beastbreaker (Create Monstrous Life) [Death (violence) 10/10]
Beastbreaker is the wooden fang of the first Miscreated. Its wielder can call forth monsters from the dark places of the world as their servants, but one who does not serve the chaos Eralta promotes will find their new minions turning against them.

Domain Get! Death (violence)
Domain Progress:
Nature (disasters) 4/10

AP Remaining: 2/16

[mystic1110]

Perpetuity

A human wedding is a festive and bloody event. If at least eight people aren’t bleeding by the time the couple enter from their respective tents then the whole ceremony is considered invalid. Often the brothers of the bride and the brothers of the groom engage in a tournament of swords and skill. Blood, after all is what interests Eralta, and if she doesn’t find the wedding interesting why would she bless it?

After the attendees, or most of them, are flushed with energy, sweat from exertion, and the browning of dried blood the bride emerges from her tent with her sisters and walks to the center of the crowd. She is then blindfolded with a silk keffiyeh and waits for her husband to be while the assemblage screams words of encouragement and dissuasion at her in equal measure.

The groom in the meantime is alone in his tent, he is supposed to emerge once he has completed his own bloodletting ritual. The groom, alone – but not alone, for there is most assuredly a spider in the tent, weaving a web above him in a corner, listening skkkt and being ignored – cuts his wrist horizontally, wincing at the pain, cuts his face and smears himself red. When he finally emerges his is lightheaded and weak, but looks like a god of war himself – red and fearsome.

He walks, head in a daze, but seemingly confidently towards his blindfolded bride. He takes her in his hands and loudly declares to all in assembly that “if you have words for her, you have words for me. If you have fists for her you have fists for me. If you have knives for her, you have knives for me. If you have death for her, you have death for me. She is mine and her fate is my fate, her enemies my enemies.” And with that he takes her by the hand and leads her through the crowd towards the tent that they would share from now till forever. Skkkt, the spiders heard his vows as they always do.

Despite the masculine ceremony, Human clans are a matriarchy, moreover the clans have no use for a woman who does not know herself how to fight or to lead. Their goddess is a goddess of the endless conflict after all. To be weak is to be faithless.

The husband’s wife was no wilting flower. She was in fact cruel. Not cruel toward the groom, but to others. She delighted in torturing the hobbled, on the battlefield she toyed with opponents. She had no hesitation to destroying children or humiliating other women. She was, if Human’s knew the word, Evil. Her laudable appearance concealed the ugliness within. And yet the Husband stayed with her – of course he would, he pledged himself to her always. And her actions, while detestable were still within the range of acceptable behavior for a warrior woman of the clans of the Changing Land, and regardless she was a beautiful and devoted wife. He loved her as love was his duty.

Years of minor and major sins passes, the wife’s violence even earning her Goddess’s favor and becoming a Miscreated, she remade herself with bones and stones, and yet, it was not enough to defend her against the ravages of a lifetime of conflict and the wife is killed one day on the battlefield. A lucky strike by young pup. The husband, found her killer and tied that boy to four wolves and forced the wolves to run in different directions. The wolves were not horses. This did not kill the child, but it did rip the limbs from their sockets. Next the husband doused those limbs in oil and lighted them, they were dislocated and broken but they still felt the pain of flame. Finally, the boy, surviving per the Husband’s careful care, was buried up to his neck in the dirt. He died a slow death.

Months pass and another ceremony. Another woman blindfolded with a silk keffiyeh waiting for her husband to be while a throng of people scream at her. The Husband to be again is, again, in alone in his tent, along that is for an unnoticed spider. He sighs and goes through the bloodletting ritual halfheartedly. He walks out and meets his new wife. He makes new vows among the blood, friends and silk.

His new wife is a saint. She is strong, but kind. Hard, but soft. She is a warrior, like all human women, but she is a caretaker, and a mother, and above all, he loves her with the force of desire and not just duty. Skkkt, she even takes a spider into her hand instead of crushing it and she gently takes it outside and deposits it by some grass. The spider crawls away, and then crawls back to find its nest, but it is delighted that it wasn’t killed. The new wife is like that. Pure.

Years of minor and major virtues pass, and the husband is killed one day on the battlefield. A skilled strike by a young girl. The wife, finds his killer and embraces her. Tells her that life is not just war and blood. That there is no need for violence only for violence’s sake. Killing should be a shield to protect your hearth and home, your kin and your loved ones. The wife forgives the girl and the girl crying runs away in shame.

The wife becomes a widow and stays a widow, and more years pass and she is laying in bed an old woman. Her eyesight is growing dim and she looks at the ceiling of her skinned tent and sees a web with two spiders on it gathering over a fly that was caught. It seemed to her that they were happily sharing a meal. She smiles as she dies.

She sees before her a starry road and she looks down and sees that she is a young woman again. There is a strange presence on her throat and she reaches towards it to find that it she has a collar made of silk wrapped around it. From the collar, a long thread reaches out and extends to infinity, tying her to something. She grabs the thread the follows it, coiling it in her arms as she walks.

On this starry road she walks and walks, and eventually she sees a great Spider. She is not afraid for she knows that she is long dead already so she walks up to the great spider and asks it how much further down the road she must walk. The great Spider turns to her and reaches out with her arms and embraces the woman and looks at her with her eight amethyst eyes.

My dear, my proud wife, I have good news for Skkkt you. In life you made your vows that your husband’s fate was your fate. His death was your death. It was Skkkt so beautiful, that I cried.

The great spider lifts her leg to catch the long silk thread tied around the widow’s throat.

Fear not my love; you are tied to your husband in the past life and this life. You Skkkt, shall always be with one another. Even death shall not divide you.

And the woman was happy at this and kissed the great spider, bid her farewell and continued on the road to Aslyum, following the thread to her husband. Finally, after what seemed like another lifetime the starry road ended and she found herself in a village at night. There was a lone tent standing under the clouded night, but a fire was roaring within. The silk thread from her throat led into the tent so she followed it with a smile on her face expecting the warm embrace of her husband. She found him inside, but he was curled on the floor beaten black and blue . . .

For you see, she had a single thread of silk tying her to her husband and his fate. The husband though has two such threads around his neck. The other thread led to the throat of a creature of Bones and Stone also sitting in the tent. A Miscreated. The Husband’s cruel first wife. For when the husband died he followed this other thread to this singular and lonely tent and found his first wife stranded there, angry at her loneliness and the knowledge of his remarriage. She beaten him every day since, asking why he didn’t take his own life when she died.

And now, the creature stared and the beautiful second wife, unmarred by the so called blessings of Eralata, beautiful in looks and soul, and she grinned as she tugged the silk thread around her throat, causing the husband to jerk on the floor, and the silk thread connecting him to the second wife, causing the second wife to fall to her knees in a yelp.

The tent flaps close on the drama. Not even in death do you part from your vows. You don't even part from the vows of those you vowed yourself to.

Vows are like webs, strands connected to other strands, ensnaring the lives of all they touch.

AP 9

Bless – Not even in death do you part. Husbands and Wives stay together after death. The couple always share the same fate. However, they will share the worse fate of the options presented. And this works for second wives and polygamous relationships too. If you make a wedding vow with 7 people, all 7 will share the fate of the weakest link in their chain.

Magic (Mistakes)
1 AP - Curse (Sacromancy vs. Transfiguration)
2 AP – Transfiguration
1 Ap – Not even in death do you part.
4/10

Civilization (Motherhood)
1 AP – Spiders
1 AP – Marriage
1 AP - The Woven Children
1 AP - Arachne
4/10

AP: 8

[Demonjazz]

Atlus sat on his throne. Surveying all of the gods and people. Working industriously to create land, society, races, concepts. And none of it was up to his standards. Murder, dishonorable by definition. War, he was not a particular fan. Elves, bah, creatures trying to overcome death. No honor at all. Humans, He could appreciate their drive. However, one minute he would be proud for a brief second for the creatures before they would throw away all of their honor like the bones of a chicken into a fortune teller’s fire.

Atlus’s great shoulders slumped as he let out a great sigh of disgust from within his mountain. He had work to do. He shifted his weight, slamming his foot into the ground. The force of this struck the ground beneath the oceans. Great spires of rock, and crags of stone rose up from the ground. The God sent another foot down sending the rocky terrain cascading downwards crashing into each other.

“I am up.” Atlus announced, causing the vast continent to settle down upon itself. The Grim God surveyed his land. The continent would prove a good stomping ground for his new creation. The sharp and drastic mountain ranges would be quite inhospitable for the humans and elves. Atlus would not have his creation spoiled by outside influence. The raids of the elves and the disorderliness of the humans would not make their way easily to these lands.

~~~

Atlus took a spire of rock, and with his hands ripped a chunk out of the mighty mountain. His large hands carefully took these chunks of rock, and started to break away pieces of the large mountain. Carefully, his giant hands carve the rocks into a squat, short shape. Like a tinkerer putting together the pieces of a watch he chiseled out the hardy features of the creatures, their long beards, and square jaws. Large meaty arms perfect for swinging an axe, their stoney hands best equipped for gripping something tightly in their hands Their wide, short forms perfectly suited for taking blows, and living in mines.
A good gut, that was important. Nice, healthy amount of fat around that area. Protects against the cold, strikes, insulates from hunger, all manner of good things come from a nice gut. In fact, now that he thought about it. The hair on these men was a little short beside their face. They lived up pretty high so they’d need not only some impressive quads for hiking, but a good deal of body hair to help brave the temperatures.

Atlus looked down at his creation. They seemed… So small to him, and yet… So brave. So determined. That stony courage in their unliving eyes gave him a brief moment of softness. A single tear fell from his face, as it dropped on the stone creatures the divine energy brought the sculptures to life. Naked, and bare in this world. The dwarves looked around to their harsh environment, no guidance in sight. With only the grim mountains to guide them, they set off by themselves.

~~~

Once again Atlus slumbered on his throne as his creations toiled in the valleys, and crags of his society. They were industrious, and honest.. Wearing the garments of bears and goats of the valleys, eating the wild potatoes and mushrooms that grew on the cave and mountains… And yet still as prone to failure as any elf, and human. But Atlus slept on his throne. The Man on the Mountain was as distant to his people as that mighty peak above the clouds.

Until one day, a group of mountain men. Men laughed at by their peers as they toiled around the fire, polishing their weapons as they created yet another meagre stew for the day. There was no god on the mountain they said. That it was simply the lot of the men of the mountain to suffer, and that the only thing waiting for them at the top of that mountain was death.

But this did not stop the explorers. Death did await for some of course, and it was a journey filled with naught but hardship, and exhaustion. But bonds made in suffering and duty run deeper than any hardship one can endure. As the explorers' hearts turned to despair, to suffering, to doubt. They turned to each other. Even as they toiled through the thick clouds, creating a mist so dense that they could see nothing but the rock in front of them, an emotion stirred deep within their chest. Not only a feeling of returning home, but the deep thrumming of… Honor. Of taking your life into your hands and directing it like one would a spear. As you release it from the hand, you can only hope that it flies true. You may grip it tightly for as long as you like, but inevitably it must be set loose to catch the prey. This is as duty is to glory. The flight of the spear… That is honor.

Though the explorers numbered 30 at the start of their journey, they numbered only 5 as they found themselves before The Grim God. “Mortals here to come ask me for a boon? To grovel beneath my feet, and ask me to make your lives easier. A loved one dead? A weapon to take down your enemies? Immortality? Some higher truth? What is that you desire.”

The mountain men did not shrink from the god in front of them. They stood fast even as Atlus’s voice boomed through the valleys. The leader stepped forward. “Man on the Mountain. You have given us a life a toil, a life of strength and struggle.”
“But a life of Death.” Another started.
“We ask not for something to help us best our troubles.”
“But something so that we may continue our struggle in earnest.”
“The hunger, the instability. It has driven us apart. Brother, husband, friend, lover. We all fall to our will to survive.”
The leader picked back up again. “So we ask, not that you give us a bounty. But a simple token. There is no…” The leader struggled thinking of the word. “Honor in this toil. Please, give unto us. The knowledge to unite our people. To worry not every single day where our next meal might come from.”

The Grim God shifted on his throne. “And what would you do if I laughed you off this mountain? Thrown you back to the bottom for even daring to ask that of the god.”

The mountain men readied their weapons. “We would climb back and take it from you.” they said in unison.

Atlus got up from his throne. The entire mountain shook as he drew himself to his full height. The god towering over the miniature men, blotting out the sun with his sheer immense stature. In one hand he drew up a massive sword of stone, in the other was a scroll “I am here now. I have what you seek. Prove yourself to me, and you can take it.”

The mountain men looked to each other as the god stood waiting for them to make a move. It seemed like certain death. “Do you want to live forever!” Shouted the smallest of the group as he charged forward, the explorers following quickly behind him.



Atlus was beyond proud of his creation that day. Perhaps it was… Dishonorable to allow them to win that day. But… They proved themselves worthy in so many other ways. It would have seemed wrong to stop them after all they had been through.
Atlus let out a small laugh as he remembered the dwarves taking the scroll from him. It was a great battle even if it was false. The look on their faces. The look of triumph as they tucked the scroll within their packs. The adrenaline wearing off and the look of sadness as they realized the long journey their battered bodies would have to take.

~~~

In the halls of the Mountain King sat an ungroomed wildman in ill fitting clothes. Other mountain men argued in a language he could not understand. They sat what they called a ‘plate’ in front of him with a pile of steamed mushrooms and potatoes in front of him. They seemed different to the ones he ate out in the wild, but everything here seemed different from what he did in the wild. They tasted much better though.

This place was good, he thought to himself. It was certainly much better than the cold river that had swept him here. He wondered why his brothers in the clan had not heard of this place. They had… Halls. They did not have halls where he was from. They had caves, those were sort of halls, but these were like… Caves made by the people of the mountain. But… Caves that were not filled with water, and cold… And all the walls of these caves were not like cave walls. All of the walls were smooth, and in the shape of a rectangle. It was not home, but for some reason it felt like home.

The men stopped debating as they looked towards the man, they led him by the arms outside of the halls and into a terrace on the mountain. There was a field of dirt. Not like normal dirt though. Black dirt. Stacked in rows. The wildman did not understand the reason for this but as he pondered this, a powerful yak came barreling down one of the rows carrying some sort of wood box on circular objects! The wildman naturally reached for his guards weapons in panic, yak very dangerous, and wood box that move with ease even more dangerous! The trained guards threw off the wildman with relative ease. Despite what the wildman thought, the yak and his wood box stopped rather short of the man. In fact, the yak looked rather civil. One of the other mountain men stroked the beast’s mane. With tentative hands, the wildman went up to the beast and did the same. It was rather calming. Yak, warm, and soft. He like this yak. “Good boi” He found himself saying in his own language to the creature.
This was interrupted when he was handed a sack of seeds. The guards left as he saw two of the mountain men wearing matching beard braids look over him with a smile. They handed him a metal wedge thing with a wood handle. They showed him how to dig holes, and put seeds in the ground. Why? He was not sure. He did this for a very long time. But when he was done, he got to eat more mushroom and drink tasty milk.

Hmm… The wildman thought perhaps he would go back to clan and try to tell them how good this place is, and have them join a life with good mushroom instead of bad mushroom that they eat.


Create Land (Atlantis 2 AP): Atlus created a continent of treacherous mountain terrain rise from the sea, his mountain naturally being the center of the continent. While there are various sections of the terrain that are less mountainous and due perhaps flatten out to foothills, the place as a whole never quite escapes that terrain, most of the shores not being of sand, but of steep cliffs.
There's’ not a lot whole lot that grows in Atlus’s continent. At least not in abundance, but plants and animals that do make their home there typically stick to the valleys and canyons, and the many, many deadly rivers that line them. In these parts, there are areas that approach a forest, but never quite reach the density for forest creatures to feel quite comfortable in them.
Domain: Earth (Mining)

CreateSentient Life(Dwarves 2 AP): Dwarf is technically a nomer given to them by the other races, but the Atlanteans have expressed no hostility towards the name so it has for good or ill stuck. The Dwarves themselves refer to their race as whole as ‘Khaz’dun’ which simply translates to “People of The Mountain”. Due to the inhospitable conditions of their land, dwarven bodies are remarkably good at storing fat, and digesting food that would be toxic or otherwise harmful to other races. Their heights tend to range from about four and half feet tall to around three feet tall though their large and stocky frames give others the impression of them being much taller.
Something that many cultures take some time to get used too are the fact that despite the very masculine features (At least by human standards) and large musculature of dwarves, they are actually a hemaphroditic people as Atlus did not see any reason to divide his people even further with different sexes. Because of this Language based around gender tends to be rather hard to translate to dwarven tongues and vice versa. Most pronouns in their languages translating something closely to a kind of third person version of ‘you’. Sometimes translated as ‘one’ or possibly a singular ‘they’. More often than not though, dwarves are translated with masculine pronouns by other cultures.
This confusion does extend between both cultures as dwarves tend to find gender roles a concept quite hard to grasp. Dwarves do have something somewhat similar in family units. The dwarf that gives birth tends to have somewhat more feminine roles around the household and tends to stay at home more. Though even then it is not a rare sight for both halves of a dwarf couple to get pregnant.
Dwarven individuals in non-dwarven societies tend to default to masculine pronouns, primarily out of convenience and… Typically dreading have to explain themselves to other races..Though it is certainly not unheard of for a dwarf to prefer gender neutral or femine pronouns, some even switching between different pronouns though this is somewhat rare.
Domain: Society (Dwarves) 2/10.

Create Advanced Concept (Honor, 2 AP): Through the Travels of the original dwarven explorers, Atlus instilled a sense of honor onto his population. While it can definitely be argued that he did not invent this, this specific form of honor would not have had as developed understanding otherwise. Simply put, honor is according to Atlus surrendering yourself to your duty. Typically this refers to duty to your community, and to your fellow brethren but this concept can be extended to duty to yourself, or duty to the government, environment, etc.
What exactly is this duty specifically is argued, but two major dwarven concepts have added to this. The first being that there is some duty to allow everyone to struggle in some way. Which often sounds cruel, but typically in Dwarven culture manifests in a strident attitude to improve oneself, usually taken to a often perfectionist quality, and a general attitude against ‘slackers’ or someone who doesn’t take their duty very seriously.
The other major concept is that of dueling. Inspired by the showdown with Atlus, the original dwarven founders of society sought to allow everyone to be able to punish any cruel leaders or those who have wronged him in the name of Honor, and Justice. This extends to everyone regardless of social standing if they follow proper protocol for such an event. A duty to uphold others to strident standards of duty themselves.
Domain: Society (Honor)

Teach Advanced Concept (Metalworking 2AP): Upon the scrolls were mainly concepts created adapted from other cultures. One of these was the metallurgy techniques of the elves.
Domain: Society (Dwarves) 4/10.

Teach Basic Concept (Agriculture 1 AP): Not quite the same as the Agricultural techniques of the elves, but often very close to them. The main thing is that they were adapted to the environment of Atlantis. So much more about how to raise mushrooms and potatoes than any type of tree. Due to the poor soil quality in Atlantis, much of the scroll is dedicated to fertilization techniques and ways to drive off pests from what are very highly sought after areas in the area. Indoor growing is also much more prolific as their main crop of mushrooms is easily harvested in the dark caverns of Dwarven Homes.
Domain: Society (Dwarves) 5/10.

Teach Basic Concept (Domestication 1 AP): Something else taken from the elves. Yaks, and goats are the main animals that were domesticated.
Domain: Society (Dwarves) 6/10.

Teach Basic Concept (Marriage 1AP): Duty to your beloved? One of the most honorable concepts that has been invented by a god that is not Atlus. Though he did put a slight spin on it. Not believing Eydote to be a truly honorable person though, he removed any mention of the number 8 or silk play no role in the rituals depicted on the scrolls given to them. Instead, most of the scroll is dedicated to rituals dedicated to giving thanks to your partner and giving thanks to the world and the Earth. Though it is not stated on the scrolls, the emphasis on stone, ground, and Earth has caused a transfer of precious gems, minerals, or stone to be given as gifts at the marriages.
Domain: Society (Dwarves) 7/10.

Create Basic Concept (Divorce 1 AP): Forever? Hmmm, Atlus did great thinking and decided this was not honorable. It is foolish to uphold the same duty for traditions sake, duty must be adapted with the times. And if one finds they foolishly swore themselves to another, then it must not be bound forever. It is much more honorable to admit your mistake and face the consequences.
Domain: Society (Dwarves 8/10.

Create Advanced Concept (Stonework 2 AP): Stonework extends to various mining techniques imparted, but more importantly it taught the various dwarves secrets to make their mountain homes. To carve out hallways, and rooms, and vast structures underneath the weight of the earth itself without it caving onto them. Along with ways to carve, and polish that stone into works of great art. It is one of the pinnacles of Dwarven Society.
Domain: Earth (Mining)

Form Society (Dwarven Society 2 AP): Due to the unorthodox way in which Dwarven Society developed. The dwarves are a much more centralized society focused around the clan that was originally given the scrolls of Atlus. The settlement that grew up from these people being called Kham Dural. It’s a stringent and rather rule driven society with a very reserved people. Leading many foreigners to find the place quite miserable. Not that dwarves don’t enjoy fine art, romance, drink and the like. They simply tend to show their enjoyment in subtler ways and not to an excess so as to better keep their honor among others.
Domain: Society (Dwarves) 10/10.

Gain Portfolio: Society (Dwarves)
Create Sentient Life 2-Dwarves
Teach Advanced Concept 2-Metal Working
Teach Basic Concept 1-Agriculture
Teach Basic Concept 1-Domestication
Teach Basic Concept 1-Marriage
Create Basic Concept 1-Divorce
Form Society 2-Dwarven Society

16 -2 -2 -2 -2 -1 -1 -1 -1 -2 -2=0.

[Citrakayah]

The night is an infinite void, and so the gods of the night can wander farther than many. So perhaps it should have been no surprise that Liegou would arrive sooner or later--sooner, in this case. But according to Liegou, everyone was quite surprised to see her set foot on Kaolin, exhausted after what she later said was a very long trek.

Of course, Liegou is a known liar. Anyone who asks her why she came to the world, which we call Kala, twice will find that to be true, for the answer seems to change each time. Yet Liegou claims each tale is the truth, even though they're lies. Philosophers argue over what this means. Perhaps this tells us much about the nature of reality. Perhaps she is trying to teach us lessons, and each tale, while a lie, illuminates certain truths. Perhaps she is playing a very, very long prank.

Regardless, this tale is certainly the truth.


Liegou came to Kaolin in late summer, when the days were long and hot, the nights were short, and the harvest had barely started to grow. She slept for two moonspans, ate and drank her fill once she awoke, and realized in short order that it was not so warm as when she came to Kaolin. And while Liegou was mighty and needed not fear the cold, that did not make it pleasant for her.

So she walked across the valleys and mountains of Kaolin, back when that ancient continent was young. And when she reached the south shore of Kaolin, she stepped into the brine and started swimming. She swam and she swam until she reached the waist of the world. Once there she started to dig and dig, each stoke of her paws sending mountains flying into the air. Rock and mud from the seafloor, still wet with the brine of the ocean, lay piled in a vast mound it would take months to cross. When it dried the soil was salty, so we call it Biluwi--the Salt Lands. If you go to other lands you will see that the plants here do not grow so well in other lands.

A giant void lay in front of her, where the shallow sea was now a vast pit, but she paid that no mind. Liegou clambered onto the mound and shook herself, and all the plants and animals of the land flew out of her pelt like so much dandruff. The creatures of the forest landed near the east coast, the creatures of the desert landed in the middle, and our ancestors, who were of the plains, landed in the west.

Her work was good and Liegou amused herself greatly by stalking the fat, tasty prey and exploring all of what she created. But while Liegou is a god, she is still a hyena, and no hyena should be without their kind. She was lonely, and so she pricked her paw with a fang and mixed her blood in with the salty soil of our homeland and molded a creature like her. The sun baked it, but it was naught but clay; it needed more.

Liegou pulled down shreds of the night's darkness with her teeth and draped it over us, and it became our fur. Stars plucked from the heavens became our eyes. And she took a bit of the essence from every night hunter of Biluwi's grasslands and placed it into us. And she called us sisi, which really doesn't mean anything at all. When the sun set that day, the first clan of the sisi came to life.

We spread freely across Biluwi, without worrying about any other species--at the time there weren't any on Biluwi, after all. And while it was never a paradise, it was relatively peaceful; there was not much to fight over and hunting was easy. Over time this would change, but things worsened before then. One of our kind (we don't know who, for her name is unremembered) saw all that she had--which was all she needed--and felt it was not enough. She also desired control--not merely control over her own fate, but control over all her surroundings. That included the others of her clan.

One of this nameless woman's clan, Erat, sought Liegou out, and told her what was happening. And so Liegou went to visit the nameless one, with Erat following in her footsteps. When they found her she was telling trees what to do.

"You cannot tell trees what to do," Liegou told the Nameless One. "And you should not. Why are you trying to?"

"Oh great Liegou! The trees are blocking my view of the mountains from my den, so they must fall over!" Now Liegou looked and saw that indeed what the Nameless One said was true, the trees did block what would be quite a nice view. But Liegou also saw that the trees held the nests of many birds, and provided shade for a neighboring clan besides.

So in reply, she said, "Get over thyself," though we are told more swearwords were involved, and the Nameless One was quite chastened.

And afterwards, Liegou went to each clan and told them, "All things seek control of themselves, but to seek control of others is to let your worst aspects control you, and cloud your mind until the ridiculous seems natural, and the natural seems ridiculous. Avoid power and wealth lest they become your masters." Most did not listen so easily, for she had just told them to avoid power, but Liegou had a skillful tongue and eventually most had come around to her point of view.


Create Land (Biluwi -2 AP): Created Biluwi, a continent about the size of Australia. A large mountain range divides the continent and is placed close to the eastern side of the continent; tropical rainforests give way to cloud forests to tundra as once goes west. West of the mountains is a vast rainshadow desert, with the desert giving way to scrubland, grassland, and dry forest as one approaches the coasts again. The soil, while salty, is not so salty as to preclude the growth of plants from other lands, though they'll be at something of a disadvantage compared to natives. Flora and fauna are broadly similar to Africa... broadly. There are minor differences in the plants, and some resulting differences in the animals, but they tend to be rather subtle things.

Create Mythical Life (The Sisi -4 AP): The sisi (not a proper noun) are hyenas that come to chest height on a human. They are as intelligent as a human and can speak human tongues as well as communicate with hyenas, albeit crudely. The essence of the night within them lets them meld into the darkness when the sun isn't out, teleport short distances at night, and manipulate shadows. [Life (Sisi) 4/10]

Form Society (Sisi Clans -2 AP): Exactly what they say on the tin. These are fairly similar in general structure to the clans spotted hyenas have, but with less vicious infighting and reduced (nearly non-existent, really) dominance hierarchies. [Life (Sisi) 6/10]

Create Basic Concept (the Path of Avoidance -1 AP): It's not what we today would consider cynicism, and it's not quite what the Greeks would have considered Cynicism, but it's close. By avoiding power over others, the followers of the Path seek greater mental clarity and a truer understanding of their place in the world. While not all the sisi follow this philosophy, many do. [Life (Sisi) 7/10]

7/16 AP

[AdmiralIvy]

Time began in a single shining instant of clarity.

And then time passed, with no one yet there to mourn it. And time continued to pass, unabated. It passed in a great, unrelenting wave, paying no heed to the small voice that cried out to slow down, almost scoffing at the suggestion the voice made to stop. The voice cried out again and again, with no response whatsoever, not a single moment to rest. No, it wouldn't stand for this. So much was unseen, unnoticed, unrecorded! So the voice began itself anew, and thus became The Past...

Somewhere, deep beneath the surface of the once placid sea, there was a deep rumbling, and up from the seafloor burst uncountable tons of rock. A vast island, a thousand leagues across, with mountains and hills and flatlands, all at the moment of bare stone, covered in the muck and brine of the ocean. In mere moments this bare rock gave way to sandy beaches, salt flats, inland deserts, snowy peaks, fertile soil, and more, as plants and animals of all sorts sprung from thin air to populate this new part of the world. From the smallest blossom to the most gargantuan of worms, every being had a place here. Somewhere in the heart of the land, deep in a jungle, high on the side of a mountain, and beside a peaceful freshwater spring, sprung an oak, old despite her youth...

And then time presented itself, with no one yet there to see it. And time continued to present itself, unabated. It presented itself as the crest of a great, unrelenting wave, paying no heed to the small voice that cried out to let itself be known, almost scoffing at the suggestion the voice made to call out to the world. The voice cried out again and again, with no response whatsoever, not a single moment to savor. No, it wouldn't stand for this. So much unrecorded, unnoticed, unseen! So the voice began itself anew, and thus became The Present...

Somewhere, deep in the heart of the once serene jungle, there was a soft rustling, and out from the bark of a tree walked a lone figure. A tall creature, the height of an elf and half again, with bark for skin and hollows for eyes, a face wreathed in leaves and a thick petal for a tongue. In mere moments there were a dozen such figures, each walking from a tree of their own to bring understanding to this new part of the world. Somewhere in the heart of the land, deep in a jungle, high on the side of a mountain, and beside a peaceful freshwater spring, sprung a bough from an oak, full of hope...

And then time had a future of its own, with no one yet there to consider it. And time continued to have a future, unabated. It had a future as the deep trough of a great, unrelenting wave, paying no heed to the small voice that cried out to look out, almost scoffing at the suggestion the voice made to change course. The voice cried out again and again, with no response whatsoever, not a single moment to ponder. No, it wouldn't stand for this. So much was unrecorded, unseen, unnoticed! So the voice began itself anew, and thus became The Future...

Somewhere in the heart of the land, deep in a jungle, high on the side of a mountain, and beside a peaceful freshwater spring, sprung a bough from an oak, youthful despite her age, and she wept. In the mere moments it took her sisters to come to her side, she had begun wailing and clawing at her face. A young, beautiful face, her hair adorned with flowers, her hands bedecked with rings. Somewhere, deep inside her, something had broken, and with a sharp pluck and a rattling sigh, she let free the burden of foresight.


Much later...

A band of the tall woodland creatures, who amongst themselves were now known as Stilgasta, people of the land, came to the isolated spring, and their leader called out: "Watcher? Listener? Are you there, songstress? Are you there, weaver? We hear a call, from birth. We hear a call, till death. We've known of this unknown place for generations, and finally we are here."

Hidden within the leaves of the great oak by the spring came a weary, wary voice: "You come in peace?"

Alongside it, another, this one brighter, more vibrant: "You bring word of the world?"

The verdant figure replied: "We come in peace, and we bring but our memories. This was a long journey, just for you! Isn't that enough?"

The first voice emerged, an aged woman in a shawl: "I appreciate the sentiment, but so much has been lost already, I can't bear to see yet more stories fade away to nothingness. Here, let me... show you."

She exhaled a bright cloud of pollen into the group, and the band shuddered in sudden understanding, of symbols that held sound, collections of them that held meaning itself! Beyond that even, they saw how to string them together to create beauty.

Before they even had time to recover, the second voice emerged, a collected woman in a jacket: "Spread this knowledge far and wide among your people. Spread it beyond even the borders of this land! There are other lands, out far in the ocean, with other people, who need what you now have. Collect the your wise, and use this to bring them to the faraway others."

She tossed a handful of petals at the leader, and again the band shuddered, less so this time. Great huts that floated, that moved! A way to cross the endless waters!

The older one spoke again: "Now, promise to me that you will cultivate knowledge, that you will revere research, and that you will exalt the studious? There is so much out there in the unknown! So much that needs to be catalogued, so much that could just... disappear, never to be seen again."

The leader was at first fearful of the intensity with which she spoke, but softened as she turned towards the negative: "I promise, wise one. We promise, giver of knowledge."

The younger one spoke once more: "Then go with my blessing. I am every tree, every swaying branch. I am every frond and leaf and seed. So long as I see your passage, it will be protected. So long as I see you travel, you will be safe. Go in peace."

And they went.

AP: 16/16

Create Land (Stilg -2 AP) [Community (Adventurers)]: A land of adventure awaits! A large continent full of terrain of all sorts, but a large majority is filled with jungle interspersed with mountains. After "certain events", there are also a number of lunar fragments to be explored. Watch out for worms!

Create Monstrous Life (Durasta -1 AP) [Community (Adventurers)]: People of the deep, emerald green worms that could swallow houses. They roam the earth and hollow mountains. No young Durasta have ever been sighted, and rumors persist among foreigners that the Stilgasta have some means to control them.

Create Mythical Life (Stilgasta -4 AP) [Community (Adventurers)]: Long-lived dryads able to move and see through plants as if they weren't there. They have a supernatural sense of direction, an eidetic memory, and the ability heal minor to moderate wounds with a touch. Their healing touch allows them to grow simple tools and shape structures out of plantlife.

Teach Mundane Concept (Alphabet -1 AP) [Knowledge (Education)]: Mnetemn was thankful to see that someone had already brought a concrete structure to language, especially one that could be made physical. She liked it so much, she granted innate knowledge of it to the very first people she met!

Create Advanced Concept (Literature -2 AP) [Knowledge (Education)]: Now that they knew how to write, why not let them know how to write well! Stories, histories, poems, ballads, and more!

Create Mundane Concept (Shipbuilding -1 AP) [Knowledge (Education)]: Spread knowledge far and wide! Stilgastan boats are often grown rather than built, with vines for ropes, trunks for masts, and vast leafy mats for sails.

Form Society (Stilgastan Conclaves -2 AP) [Knowledge (Education)]: Democratic city-states spread across Stilg, they revere the most knowledgeable and wisest as spiritual leaders of a sort. Elaborate catacombs exist deep within the roots of each conclave.

Create Organization (Stilgastan Universities -1 AP) [Knowledge (Education)]: Approximately one university exists for every conclave, with each specialized in a specific area of research. Stilgasta will travel great distances to attend the university that corresponds best to their interests.

Bless (Dendrological Protection -1 AP) [Community (Adventurers)]: Walk with no fear under the shade of the softly swaying trees. Trees planted alongside roads grant a measure of magical protection against the mundane dangers of travel.

Community (Adventurers): 8/10

Create Land (Stilg) 2/10
Create Monstrous Life (Durasta) 3/10
Create Mythical Life (Stilgasta) 7/10
Bless (Dendrological Protection) 8/10

Knowledge (Education): 7/10

Teach Mundane Concept (Alphabet) 1/10
Create Advanced Concept (Literature) 3/10
Create Mundane Concept (Shipbuilding) 4/10
Form Society (Stilgastan Conclaves) 6/10
Creat Organization (Stilgastan Universities) 7/10


Remaining AP: 1/16

[FlyingCheseCake]

“Hope’s Heights, Despair’s Depths”

The man stumbled through the heavy underbrush, his breath wheezing from his lungs. He had been running for so long...too long. The horror had been chasing him for hours. It was all legs and claws and far, far too many teeth. He had watched it drop into the midst of his hunting party, watched it pluck their limbs one by one, as if it had been enjoying the spectacle. He had fled, chased at first by the screams and cries of his clan mates, then by the hunting cries of the monstrosity.

Now he was just chased.

Slowing to a trot, he came up against a rocky outcropping and leaned on his arm, gulping air into his lungs. Low as it was, the cliff above him was still out of his reach, and he glimpsed the rock wall continue off into the gloom of the jungle in either direction.

Another cry from the beast revealed that it had not given up the hunt; it still had his scent.

Turning round to keep the rock at his back, the man picked up a stout branch from the jungle floor. He had long ago lost his spear in his heedless flight. He had been blinded by panic; truly, even had he lost the creature tracking him, he knew not where he was, had no inkling on how to return home. And now….now there was no hope of returning. He set his feet, twisted the branch until it settled in his grip, and he waited for his chance to exact at least a small hurt upon this evil before he fell before it.

He noticed the jungle around him was becoming more and more quiet. The birds stopped singing, the small animals of the ground stilled, and then even the infinite insects ceased their constant noise.

And then he saw its eyes, staring back at him from the gloom between the trees.

==============

Rahtek floated above the cliff face, watching the Miscreated skulk out of the treeline and into the small clearing, eyes locked with the human it had stalked across a dozen miles of jungle. The defiance that the mortal spat back at the brutish creature resonated with the god’s essence, even if its human form was wholly unfamiliar to it. The other creature, however, teased at Rahtek’s broken memory. If only it could remember…

The shadows wreathing the light of the god’s core shivered and skittered as it shook itself, refocusing back onto the events unfolding below. A moment more, he knew, and the creature would pounce and finish the long hunt. Turning to the pair of Mn’Sys silently looming behind it, Rahtek gestured with a tendril of shadow at the human, “The mortal is of our flock, and it is not prepared for its trial. Bring the errant lamb back into the fold.”

Two trios of violet lenses flashed acknowledgment. The constructs briefly crouched down upon their four legs, and bounded over Rahtek and down the cliff face. Landing heavily onto the soft loam of the jungle floor before the Miscreated, the pair of Mn’Sys rose to their full height and began to march toward the creature, herding it back into the treeline. Snarling it’s frustration, the Miscreated snapped its maw at the interlopers and tried to rake them with its claws. However, despite its hunger to reach the human morsel, it was confused by the unfamiliar sting of the newcomer’s upper appendages, sparking with some inner power. With a final roar of annoyance, the creature turned and sprung deep into the jungle, its heavy footfalls retreating into the distance.

==============

The man had thought he looked upon his death, but with the same suddenness that the creature had first appeared, these new...things...had fallen upon it and drove it off. However, as they rotated to to face him, seemingly as a creature with a single mind, he realized that he may have just traded one horrific death for another. They remained there a moment, motionless, and then raised their violet eyes to look up at the cliff behind him. Trying to turn so that he could keep these two in his peripheral, he instead fell to his knees as a sphere of intense light and shadow descended from above.

“Your trial is yet before you. I shall gird you against that day.”

==============

And so, a number of days thence, the man strides forth from a cave and gazes at the land before him. Shielding his eyes against the sun, the jungle spreads out below him as an endless sea of greens, yellows, and browns. The sight immediately unearths memories he had tried to suppress, memories of being followed through that very jungle...followed, chased, and hunted. Memories of a campfire story made real. Despite his time with the strange being of light and shadow, he did not feel ready to face that beast again, regardless of what he had been told of his “trial.” But perhaps there was another way. If one story could be true, why not another?

He tightened his grip on his spear, and strode into the depths of the jungle.

And hope beamed with pride.


The days that followed were filled with long, lonely miles trekked from village to village, seeking every scrap of story that elders would be willing to share. In pieces they were meaningless, but taken together they had led the man to a still pond deep in the jungle, wreathed in mist and heavy silence. A place that was spoken of in whispers, where one could glimpse hints of events yet unfolded if he but had the will power to demand it.

He approached the glass-like surface of the pond, kneeling before it and staring into its inky depths. He dwelled on those eyes that haunted his dreams, on his fear, on his “trial.” With glacial slowness, the black waters parted for a dull green light, for visions of the Miscreated nesting within a the roots of a great tree...of the man falling upon it while it slumbered...of victory.

He raced back into the jungle, his eyes bright with new found confidence in the promise that he would survive what was to come.

And hope flickered, confused.


As it was prophesied, so it came to be. The man found the burrow of the beast, and he fell upon it unawares, slaying it with a fire in his breast and a song upon his lips. He thrust his blood-soaked spear into the sky in victory...and then doubled over in pain. His vision wavered, but through the agony he could still see his hands elongate, his fingers sprout great claws for rending. Realization struck, and he tried to cry out in denial, in confusion. The vision had spoke true! He had passed his trial! Why...why was this happening?

At last, the newly Miscreated howled into the sky, and then bounded off into the jungle in hunt of prey. Behind, beneath the roots of the great tree, lay the corpse of a human, spear wounds seeping life’s blood into the soil.

And hope dimmed.

[Nishai]

Ignition
In the first moments of reality an entity coalesced, unsure of what it was. This entity looked out into everything and could see nothing this sparked something within, disappointment. "What is the point of this existence if there is nothing to see." it thought to itself. He reached out trying to find something desperate to find something, anything. "This is all wrong. I must fix this." she said, surprised by the words flowing from within. As she tried to reach out a new feeling ignited within, one much stronger, an energy pouring out.

It started with a flicker of light, one that would reveal all. This entity stood in nothingness arm reaching upward, or was it downward it was impossible to tell, at the tip of her finger was a small flame. It was just the tiniest of flickers but it was what she needed. This woman poured more energy into this little flame causing it to grow and spread. The fire ran down her arm tracing lines of bright white energy across her black skin/ She realized the flame was not at her finger but entirely with in her, this is the power she possessed. It wanted out and she was ready to oblige.

Her focus sharpened pushing this light out into the universe growing brighter and hotter it grew to an enormous size stretching in all directions from the woman. All she could see was the light and it felt right. Taking a moment to center herself she spun severing this great flame from her body and to her shock it stayed. She wished to see all she had created.

The woman dove through the flame quickly arriving at the edge and blasting a hole through the side. She fell out of her own egg, shards of pure fire raining down on the world that she could now see clear as day.

"I AM CINDRESS, THE FIRST FLAME, AND I HAVE CREATED ALESH!"

The sound echoed through reality still in the first moments of creation.

A Spark
In the earliest of days an Elf walked through the woods stumbling upon a shard of pure fire the size of a tree embedded in the earth. It did not burn the forest around it but still it almost as bright as the sun. When the elf drew closer he heard a whisper behind him. "Gaze into the flame and power will walk with you for the rest of your days." The elf jumped at the sound spinning around to find a woman with black skin and fire for clothes. Her flame seemed to burn even brighter than the shard.

The elf quickly ran from the clearing afraid of what might come. But his story spread and others came over time curious of what the words meant. Some gazed into the flame and walked away with fire on their footsteps power that they could never imagine. The ability to clear forests for farming, or harden their flesh with tempering flames. Some could even heal wounds. But every so often a person would gaze into the flame for too long determined to find more power. These few found only death as the flames over took them searching for a power that they could not hold. Yet.

AP: 16/16
Create Land (-2 AP) Alesh- A ball of pure fire floating in space high above the first world.
Alter land (-1 AP) Heart Fires- Shards of solidified fire that rained down across the first world in the moment Alesh was created Each one emanates near blinding levels of light and are the primary source of Pyromatic power. These shards Appear across half the globe, the side that was facing Alesh upon its creation.
Create Mythic Concept (-4 AP) Pyromancy- The art of creating and controlling flame.
Sub Concept (pyromancy) (-2 AP) Ruby Flame- Red fire, The primary art of pyromancy steeped in destruction.
Sub Concept (pyromancy) (-2 AP) Sapphire Flame- Blue Fire, Pyromancy focused on the aspects of fires ability to alter substances making somethings stronger and somethings weaker.
Sub Concept (pyromancy) (-2 AP) Emerald Flame - Green fire, Flames that provide a nurturing warmth, Primarily used to heal wounds and grow crops

Divine growth: Magic (pyromancy)

Create mythic concept 4
Sub Concept 2
Sub Concept 2
Sub Concept 2

4+2+2+2=10
Domain gained: Magic Pyromancy

Ap 3/16

[flyinglemur]

Osseon, last born of the gods, took shape as the world was under construction. It wandered, aimlessly and without purpose, across newly made lands still only just barely seeded with life. It did not understand what it saw at first, and remained bored and indifferent, until one day it saw its first glimpse of animal life. A gazelle drank from a pond, a lion had been stalking it, and at the crucial moment the hunter pounced. Osseon watched in awe at this, the power of this wild beast, the ferocity with which it tore apart its quarry, was like nothing Osseon had ever seen before. Osseon bowed down before the lion, impressed, disgusted, and terrified, and decided to follow the hunter for the rest of its days. However, this arrangement would prove short lived. The gazelle was deeply infected with a parasitic worm, and the lion had become the new host. In due time the lion would die, his body rotting like any other in the savannah sun. Osseon was shaken to its very core. It was too young and knew too little of the world to realize the mundanity of what it had seen. From Osseon’s perspective, the bringer of death itself died, it’s body was consumed by strange and disgusting lumps of writhing matter, and swallowed up by the earth. It’s god had fallen.

Osseon ran manic for several days, and when that was over it felt a deep sense of shame, for itself and for the hunter. It felt foolish, having put so much faith into this failure, and it felt ashamed at the lionÂ’s arrogance. He thought himself invulnerable, above all the other beasts, but it was only brute force that enabled that belief. In the end, his power could not save him, and his pride died with him. Osseon was fully convinced of the extraordinary importance of all it had seen, and soon developed its basic worldview. All that it had seen in its time was worthless, universally slow and foolish. From the solid stones too foolish to move, to the great beasts too foolish to avoid death. Osseon alone was not foolish, it had been foolish once, but realized the lion’s deception. Osseon then concluded that if it was no fool, it must be something beyond the world it had seen. And furthermore, a foolish world could surely not produce an intelligent being, therefore its source must lay elsewhere. Osseon had discovered its truth. Another realm existed, beyond the world of stone and flesh, where true joy and experience hailed from, where Osseon had been made. The lion pretended to hold dominion over all, and even believed its own lies, but it paled in comparison to the promised land. Thus, Osseon would begin his everlasting campaign against the Lion-Faced god, in search of a means to return home.

Osseon would continue to wander, until one day when it came across Atlantis and the dwarves. These were the first mortals it had seen, and it felt an immediate kinship. They were foolish yes, but they were also intelligent. They possessed an understanding of themselves and their limitations, and fought against their passions and impulses. They would not have died facing the gazelle. Osseon watched them a long time. They were truly impressive, but they were still bound in the world. They were tied up in meaningless chains of oaths and duty, as though duty could survive the sands of time. They were violent, as though causing death could save them from it. They were prisoners like Osseon, who had been deluded by the Lion-Faced god. Osseon had to act. It traveled to a great city, and began to speak with the dwarves. Most turned away from this strange foreigner, but a few individuals either impressionable or already lacking in honor listened. This is the humble beginning of the Seekers of Truth. It is here as well that Osseon created his fabled tome, the Morning Star, so as to always guide his followers, teaching them first how to meditate so that they might ignore the lies of the flesh.

16 AP
Create organization (The Seekers of Truth -1 AP) [Society (monasticism)]: A cult of monks dedicated to Osseon and its teachings. They are non-violent, refuse to swear any oath, and renounce the material world. They wish to one day achieve the knowledge necessary to find the holy world that they believe all intelligent beings come from.

Create Divine Favor Minor Artifact (create mundane concept) (The Morning Star -3 AP) [Society (monasticism)]: A book of Osseon's experiences and dogma, held by the leader of the Seekers. It records history on its own, constantly updating itself based on Osseon or the Seekers new discoveries, and will never run out of room. It's the source of instruction for the seekers any time Osseon isn't around, and can communicate Osseon's messages to the seekers. It has also has been blessed with a certain level of intelligence, allowing it to aid in discovering new ideas, helping the cult survive and adapt to changing times.

Create Open mundane concept using The Morning Star (Meditation -0 AP): Silent musing on the nature of reality. Practiced often by the Seekers so as to temporarily distract themselves from their bodies, and hopefully gain inspiration on how best to reach the holy world.

Society (monasticism): 4/10

Remaining AP: 12/16

[LordArgon]

A Race Awakens

Deep inside the cave system that wound its way throughout the World Pillar, a pair of elves stumbled upon a room filled with glittering crystals. Their torches' light makes it appear as an iridescent star field and filled them with wondrous awe. The pair quickly scrambled to try to pry some of the gems from the walls. In their greed-fueled hurry one of them tripped on one of the rocks that had fallen in the moonfall and smashed face first into one of strange rock formations that dotted the walls. Groaning in pain, they hold their hand to their nose to try to stop the bloody stream emanating from their nose. Their friends quickly rushes to their side to help them stop the bleeding. Unfortunately for the elves, their accident attracted unwanted attention. A warband of humans heard the crash from the fall, and quickly followed the sounds of whimpers to find their prey. The group of ten human warriors snuck into the room and surrounded the pair of elves. The non-bloodied elf tries to run, but the lead human clubs them unconscious. As the other humans tie up the knocked out elf, the head warrior raises her club to beat down the other whimpering elf. With a sinister sneer she swings the severed stump of her arm down, spraying blood all over the already bloody elf. The warrior screams out in pain and clutches the stump that until quite recently had the rest of her arm attached. With their eyes filled with blood, the elf did not notice the husk of the human's arm falling to the floor in front oh them or the twelve foot tall humanoid separating themselves from the wall. Unlike the elf, the other humans did notice, and attacked the massive being ineffectively. The massive man swatted their weapons from their hands and with graceful, precise strikes he snapped their necks. After finally wiping the blood from their eyes, the elf watched in wondering horror as the giant being took the human corpses and smashed them against the carvings on the wall. With a loud sucking sound, the corpses turned into dried husks and another giant man or woman burst from the wall. The still conscious elf grabbed their friend's feet and desperately tried to drag them from the room any away from the giants, but is stopped by the first, more elven looking giant. He lifts both elves underneath his arms, and warmly states, "Let me give you a lift there small ones. I wouldn't want you getting hurt on your way home, especially after you gave me some of your precious blood."

13 AP
Create Mythic Life (4AP): The Kruva. Starting life as stone statues or carvings, they come alive when they come into contact with body fluids of living beings. They are massive, standing 11 to 12 feet tall while in humanoid form , but they can change their shape and size. Their default appearance is that of their awakener, but they can change it to any creature they have gotten fluids from. They feed by draining creature of all of their fluids, leaving behind dessicated husks. They are quite friendly towards the beings that awaken them, but otherwise view living beings as food.
Create Advanced Concept (2AP): Genetics. All organic life contains genetic material that determines everything about their bodies.
Teach Mundane Concept (1AP): Shipbuilding. Wooden hulled and powered by oar and sail. These ships allow the races to traverse the many islands of the gods.

Mind(Obsession)
(The World Pillar 2AP)
(Shipbuilding 1AP)
3/10

Life(Mutation)
(Tunnel Wurms 1AP)
(Kruva 4AP)
(Genetics 2AP)
7/10

13 - 4 - 2 -1 = 6AP

[Razade]

O-Thisse: Alesh

Light.

Before, where there was only the primeval dark, things were perfect. One could hide their works and ruminate at their imperfection. But then the Light. It shone through the Void and across the First World, upon the early surface of Kaolin and its small creatures and gave rise to the Elves and O-Thisse knew fear. With Light came lies, came division, came toil.

He drifted slowly to gaze upon Alesh, beaten and worn, smoking from its heat. He reached a hand outward, fingers blistering and cracking under the weight of Alesh and in that moment plucked a piece of flame from its surface. In dark eyes it shone and with heavy breath he snuffed it out. There was no beauty in the flame, no care or concern for its make. It was fury, fully, and it made his heart weep.

Yet his sister there, birthed from the flames. “Hark, sister, and marvel at your work.” Each word came slow, weary, hands wringing to clear away soot. He knew her, as he knew the others here. She was of his kind, unlike the other presences abound. “Your brother, O-Thisse, am I. Born of the skies and of the storm. I know you for in the time before your Light we came to this place as one. I greet you.”

The Elves of Kaolin: Fire and Flask

The Elves, with their castes, were quick even in their simple tribes to divide labor. With the teachings of Cindress, Sister to the Skies, and her blue flames there was much the Elves could do. Furnaces burned with the blue light and powerful concoctions were brewed in secret. Weapons and tools were sharp and durable from these forges, harnesses more comfortable and fitting for their wearers. Even clothing, simple thought it was for the Elves of this time, lasted longer and survived the ravages of moth and road. Early in the Elven Tribes craftsmanship became unto an artform. Even simple things, chairs and talismans, were looked upon with scorn if they were made poorly. To the Elves of Kaolin there was no excuse to neglect one’s task. To do it well, to do it with respect for the gods and for the craft itself was tantamount to sin.




Create Advanced Concept (Elven Craftsmanship) -2AP: With Alchemy and Pyromancy, the Elves are exceptional in their crafting. Wood is augmented with curing agents, fires burn cleaner and brighter with Pyromancy. Their workmanship is masterclass even at the most basic level thanks to their arcane sciences. [Craft (Alchemy) 8/10]

4AP - 2AP = 2AP

[Citrakayah]

The Miscreated towered over the trees. Small woodland creatures ran before it, and the snapping of branches thick around as a man's torso could be heard for miles. Shadows seemed to lengthen as it passed, becoming almost solid and smothering the understory plants.

It was heading for the camp of the Koltak Clan, a group of humans who had arrived some moonspans before. They were only a few dozen in number, and eked out a living hunting small game and gathering nuts and berries. They were helpless against such a creature.

Between them and the Miscreated was Liegou, staring them down. They were a particularly horrific exemplar of their kind. Most had bodies made of soil, of rock, of plant matter. But this one--formerly a human by the name of Owen--was made of the bodies of sisi, fused into a single, giant mass. A dozen sets of eyes that had belonged to her kin stared at her, maddened by the hate of a man rejected for his cruelty. A dozen maws snapped in her direction, ready to tear her flesh. He hated all, but he'd blamed her and her teachings for the rejection of his kin... and from the look in his eyes, he remembered Liegou. She let out a nervous giggle, but held her ground.

Owen loomed over her, then slammed downwards to devour Liegou alive.

Liegou let him.


"This goes beyond the normal struggle of your lives. Eralta's creations have wiped out entire clans, and it's going to get worse."

"You're going to let him eat you."

"He might find me harder to digest than most."


She was bit torn to ribbons and swallowed through several mouths, which hurt even as she turned to shadow and merged together again. The inside of a Miscreated, after all, was blacker than the deepest night. Once in the monster's stomach, she pricked her foreleg with a fang and let three drops of blood drip down.

The first drop found the part of the Miscreated that was still human. It soaked in, and wrought changes on all humans, blessing them with a piece of Liegou's essence. Smaller than the piece the sisi had, of course, but enough to sometimes make a difference.

The second drop, much larger, followed in the path of the first, and spread outwards from the humans. Any place they tread, anything they touched, would have a sliver of that same essence inside of it. Humanity would be the vector to spread her blessing to all the world.

The third undid the bindings of the Miscreated. Owen was free of his madness... and all the people he'd made a body out of were free of him. They started to struggle free, and Owen's last few seconds were spent screaming.

"Keep your abominations out of my territory, Eralta," she murmured once it was over.


The possibility of Eralta's interference worried Liegou as little did. Occasional chaos was amusing, but the woman seemed to delight in causing suffering en masse, and encouraging the worst aspects of others.

She visited the dreams of sisi dwelling on the coasts of Biluwi, told them to organize and watch for any sign of the evil god. She placed stars and nebula in the sky and taught the sisi to call upon their power.

She could only hope it would be enough.

Blessing (Breaking the Chains) - 1 AP: Any creature with a drop of Liegou's essence can try to invoke it to break free of those who'd subjugate them or cloud their minds. Metaphysical bindings, mind-altering effects, physical chains; they all break the same. It doesn't always work, for Liegou's blood is thin, but they've always got a chance. [Chaos (Freedom) 1/10]
Create Organization (the Watchers of the Shores) - 1 AP: Exactly what they sound like, the Watchers are a group of sisi that keep an eye out for signs of potentially hostile deities, or their creations. They will deal with what they can, and alert Biluwi's inhabitants--and Liegou--to what they can't. [Life (Sisi) 8/10]
Create Mythical Concept (Star Magic) - 4 AP: By drawing on certain constellations and stars in the heavens, great power can be wielded. [Light (Stars) 4/10]

Create Subconcept (the Eyes) - 2 AP: The Eyes are a set of particularly bright points in the sky. Invoking their power allows scrying of far away places--so long as they're exposed to the light of one of the eyes. [Light (Stars) 6/10]
Create Subconcept (Vemat, the Guardian) -2 AP: Vemat glows silver in the night sky. His invokers are covered with silver fire that turns away blows. [Light (Stars) 8/10]
Blessing (Knack for the Night) - 1 AP: Sisi are naturally good at picking up star magic, and will find it to be on some level instinctual for them. [Life (Sisi) 9/10]

0/16 AP

[mystic1110]

Shadchanit

Mortals were living their lives and such lives inevitably led to two becoming one, sometimes more. Such was the nature of the world and the nature of lives. Lives were only threads, but a life was a web. A single thread is not much of a life. If you do not live for someone and if you do not belong to someone, who lives for you? Who do you own? Nothing and no one.

But, why just Mortals the Great Spider mused on her web. Her children were out there meeting their loves and binding them with their spoken contracts tighter than prey was wrapped in silk. They were each building their nests, but the Gods were silent and lonely.

This would not do.

So the Great Spider, walking on the starry road between life and the Asylum where married couples dragged each other from life to their shared fate spun her threads until she constructed a meeting hall. The hall was built of the softest silk that Eydoté could make. This was the Tender Lattice, first of many of Eydoté’s great dens. It would be a place for Gods to meet and perhaps fall in love. With the watchful, many many eyes, of the great Spider of course.

The Tender Lattice was shaped like a great temple, but a temple with many smaller hidden rooms for when its occupants would want to retreat to amuse each other. Everything was made of silk, even the floor, but this was spider silk so it was as strong and unbending like iron or as gentle as the feather. The whims of its mistress allowed it to be so. Many mortal spiders, Archane and Woven children lived in its halls. Servants to the Gods.

But the Tender Lattice was still empty so the Great Spider bent to her smallest children and whispered missives to each of them. The little spiders saluted their great grandmother with their little legs and spun small webs to catch the wind, and they flew in search of the Lords of Creation. Many died in their search, but spiders breed and in turn told their children what to tell the gods if they could be found. What measure is a mortal life when gods measure time in such a way that the sun was not made but they still conceived of the sun. Time means nothing to them.

Eventually, the spiders, or their progeny found their targets. One spider approached O-Thisse as he bent over a table looking at the alchemical studies of the elves. Another walked on water, its weight not allowing it to pierce the surface tension as it tried to speak to Isodelica. A third walked up the long way up the mountain to Atlus on his throne. A spider wove itself onto a club on one of the many participants in Eralta’s blood sports. One spider walked nervously up to Liegou as her people debated and laughed around her. Another spider looked up at the sun and as its eight eyes burned addressed Cindress.

In short, in such ways the Great Spider bid to each God:

Come my Brothers and Sisters. Let us meet and Feast, and let us Skkkt see who we will be spending the rest of our lives with, Skkkt the rest of Eternity.

AP 8 + 4 Rollover = 12 AP

1 AP Alter Land - Create the Tender Lattice, a meeting place for the Gods. This Temple/Palace/Giant Web is created on the Starry Path from the Mortal Realm to Asylum.

Magic (Mistakes)
1 AP - Curse (Sacromancy vs. Transfiguration)
2 AP – Transfiguration
1 Ap – Not even in death do you part.
4/10

Civilization (Motherhood)
1 AP – Spiders
1 AP – Marriage
1 AP - The Woven Children
1 AP - Arachne
1 AP - Tender Lattice
5/10

AP: 11

[FlyingCheseCake]

Hope's Ire

Deep within the tangled jungle of Stilg a community of humans lay nestled in the arms of a mountain, its slopes sweeping forward in a protective embrace. They had found sanctuary in a wedge of Moonfall debris. Twisted and buckled from its fiery decent, it still hosted dozens of chambers that provided ample space for a small clan to have grown up within. But it was the Heart Fire that lay at its core, buried by the structure cleaved from the Shattered Moon and since uncovered by the people that settled there, that allowed the clan to thrive. It’s light pushed back night’s darkness, it’s heat kept the cold at bay, and it’s occasional gifts of power were a boon of incalculable value.

In the great central chamber, where the Heart Fire pierced the earth, the humans danced and sang about the shard of flame. They celebrated another pairing among them, two that had joined their lives for eternity and more, for better or for worse. Unseen by the clanspeople, spiders wove their webs and watched promises made. And unseen by the spiders, in a dark gap high on the wall above, Rahtek watched the events and its watchers. And remembered.

He remembered countless other celebrations, of similar pairings, of the failings of the mortal coil once, and then again. He watched threads drawn and tied, at once so infinitesimally fine that the humans never knew they were there, and yet so unbreakable that they drew souls together past the very threshold of death. Promises given, promises kept, and the futility of regret, of redemption. Those threads of silk and steel never loosened, never permitted these creatures a chance to change their paths.

He remembered another human, at once long ago and yet as if days before, that had shown that spark of tenacity to change the unchangeable. He had faced death twice over, and yet had suffered far more greatly for it. What bonds tied him to such fate? It was all so...so...

So hopeless.

He brooded and watched the humans live their lives, a bitter and blackened orb of darkness, hardly a wisp of light to be found. He watched the joined pair; He watched one become cruel and callous, watched as he struck down an offspring in anger, and in turn was struck down himself by his partner. He watched her mourn her child and try to move pass the pain, to persevere in the hope that life goes on. Rahtek should have been overjoyed in her triumph over her trial, but he despaired. He saw that the intangible thread remained. He knew what waited for her at the end of her life’s journey.

He knew that loss. Knew completely its sorrow, its inevitability. That immutability, that certainty of being bound to a fate with no hope of reprieve. It made him angry.

And his anger was beautiful to behold.

The shadows roiling about him were wiped away, his brilliant, unwavering light flooding the chamber below. The humans ceased their labors and shaded their eyes as Rahtek brought himself forth from his solitude, the light of even the eternal flames of the Fire Heart dimming before his regent glare. The humans fell to their knees...all but one. Descending from far above, he came to rest before the lone woman, still standing in the face of the might before her as she once stood before the cruel hand of her husband.

Rahtek studied her briefly, for he already knew her heart...knew it through, for it mirrored his own. He reached towards the wall of chamber, made from the same mysterious material as Haven itself and thus far unworkable by mortals, and ripped forth a shard as long as her arm. He considered the sliver of his home, and then thrust it into the flames of Heart Fire.

The fires fell upon and clung to the fragment, but they grew dark as they did. Darker than the night sky, darker than the void through which Haven passed, darker than the hopelessness of a god’s despair. Whipping the shard forward, a blade of obsidian flame sliced through the thread that bound the woman’s neck. Again and again he struck, severing the shackles the mortals did not realize they wore...that is, until they fluttered to the ground. They fingered their necks where they had been tied, only now realizing that a weightless, incredible pressure had been removed.

Handing the sword of black flame to the woman, Rahtek spoke softly, and the clan leaned toward the light to hear. “Loss offered you naught but darkness and hate. It also offered you focus, it offered you strength. You did not know it, but you could not accept that offer...until now. From darkness and by darkness have I cast aside your chains. Your strength, your purpose I make my own. If hope be bound, loosen the knot; be shuttered, throw back the shade; be caged, break the bars. By our trials shall we fall, and by our trials shall we rise. Fate is our gaoler no longer.”

Rahtek did not wait for a response, instead drawing himself out of the village, out of the Moonfall debris, and brought himself before the encroaching jungle. He spoke into night’s darkness, “I see you, children of Mnetemn. I know of her and you, and I know that she too feels the sorrow and madness conjured by glimpsing the inevitable. You watched tonight, as I have watched. Tell your stories; sing your songs. Let this world know that here, at least, fate holds no sway.”

Glancing toward the ground, Rahtek spied the severed thread of the woman, glittering among the grass’s dew. Lifting it up, he glimpsed it leading off into the night and beyond the ken of mortals. Knowing that its weavers watched from their perches, he began to follow the silken chord.

AP 6 + 4 (Rollover) = 10

Create Sub-Concept (2AP -1AP (Haven) = 1AP) - Obsidian Flame (Pyromancy). All light casts shadows, and the light of Alesh is no different. Wrought from a god’s despair and tempered in the heat of a Heart Fire, Obsidian Flame is the antithesis of the ever burning flames of Heart Fires and has the power to unmake the very bonds of creation. A power rarely granted, in the hands of a mortal it can equally turn a stone wall to sand and a steel sword to powdered rust. In the hands of the immortal, it can undo fate itself.

Curse (2AP) – Pact’s Severance. Disillusioned by the twist of fate that turned his first faithful into the very evil he sought to conquer, and reminded of that hopelessness by every thread around a mortal’s neck that inevitably dragged them together even after death, Rahtek rails against the inevitability it represents. If all is preordained, then what use of hope? He has severed the threads binding a clan of humans, left them the means to do so themselves, and directed the storytellers of the Stilgasta to spread the word that such a boon would be offered to any that sought it. Counters “Not Even in Death Do You Part.”

Create Organization (1 AP) – The Pact-hewn. Hope is a powerful thing, but hope without struggle is no hope at all. However, sometimes the struggle is beyond strength of hope alone to overcome and it needs a little help. Originating from a clan of humans living in the remains of Moonfall debris, the Pact-hewn are made up of any sentient that has sworn to Rahtek’s cause to overcome the suffocating inevitability of fate and nurture the seeds of hope where ever they are found. While their name is derived from Rahtek’s original act of severing them from the eternal bonds placed upon them by the vows of marriage, more often one joins the ranks of the Pact-hewn through overcoming a trial of more mundane strife.

Undeclared
1 AP - Obsidian Flame
2 AP – Pact’s Severance
1 AP – Pact-hewn
4/10

6 AP Remaining

[bc56]

When Fate Breaks, Chaos Rises

Eralta was waiting, working on new fancies, when she heard something. Some of her people cried out, first in fear, then in freedom. Something had broken, something had changed. Instantly, she was there, seeing the severed threads of fate and the retreating form of the god of hope. In a flash, she followed Rahtek, trying to overtake him and to speak with him. "Hey, hey, hey! I saw what you did there!" She doesn't wait for a reply. "I was planning on cutting those bonds myself, but you beat me to it. You did something pretty interesting there. I wonder how that prissy uptight spider will react." She conjures a ball of obsidian flame in her hand. "This stuff is pretty handy." Sparks of it fly from her fingertips and rain upon the world below. "I could do a lot with this." She removes the tree branch strapped to her back, and, with a beam of obsidian flame, burns numerous jagged, twisting glyphs into it. "That's much better!" She swings it through the air a few times, throwing black flames from its tip. "I'll call it Broken Destiny, in honor of what you did for my people," Eralta finishes to Rahtek.

Starting AP: 2+4 (rollover)
Create Major Utility Artifact: Broken Destiny (Bless/Curse) [Nature (Disasters) 9/10]
Eralta's club is a potent tool to break down the bonds and patterns in world. The Obsidian Flame first created by Rahtek has been copied by Eralta, and it runs through the weapon and sparks from it whenever it is used.

Curse: Blackfire Storms (0 AP, artifact charge)
The sparks of Obsidian Flame from Broken Destiny rain down on the world from time to time in destructive storms. They arise and vanish again with little warning, and their movements are unpredictable and chaotic. The land is wiped utterly clean by their passing, but it becomes fertile and useful afterwards, and the destruction may turn up new and and valuable mineral resources.

Final AP: 1/16
Domains:
War (anger)
Life (adaptation)
Death (violence)
Nature (disasters) 9/10

[mystic1110]

Hospitality

It was the earliest portion of the night, when the light of the sun still lingered like an unwelcome guest. However, guests were important, they were sacred, or at least that was what the spiders whispered to each other. They were very welcoming once you have gotten to know them. You simply had to fly into one of their webs and they would greet you with a feast. The fact that the feast would be you would not diminish their conviviality. They would read their guests stories. Entertain them. The important thing with guests is to treat them as if you would your own. If you eat your own, why would you not eat your guests? It would be rude not to.

And so as the light of the Guardian softly began to glow in the sky, as the Sisi would come out of their sun hidden abodes under the watchful Eyes and Vemat, in between their battles with blood thirsty humans and Miscreated, they lived their lives. Love, tasks, and boredom. Such is life. It passes in between the moments of excitement. Time is fleeting and often wasted, but it also must be used and spent. It is a poor currency that begs to be exchanged.

And so the Sisi would visit each other in their dens to pass the time. However, soon they realized the risk. This was a cruel world. A world of murder and betrayal. Eralta was a goddess prone to lazy comforts. She was always clanging the symbols and beating the drums of conflict. Humans were not the only ones who would murder an old friend for a fleeting award, Sisi too would betray one another for misbegotten reasons like envy and greed. Blood was like time and it flowed freely from opened veins.

Skkkt, the spiders shook their heads in sadness as they watched these domestic scenes from their webs. They thought of the grand mistresses of their own race and shared brethren. An Arachne would safeguard any spider or Woven Child who would stumble upon her den. She would feed the new comer before herself. Generosity as Law, like Marriage such silken Contract was the shield of against the chaos. The spiders nodded sagely and began to whisper the secrets and rules of guest-right into the sleeping ears of the Sisi.

And so, as the sun went to sleep again, as Vemat and the Eyes and all those other stars of Liegou would emerge, the Sisi would wake and begin their nights. A traveler, on the road, bloody from a battle with a Miscreated, would approach a den. The den’s owner would emerge with her husband, and would say that she accepts the guest under the Stars. The guest, weary, would enter. The Husband would bring to the guest the best food in the house, and as the guest hungrily ate it, the silk threads of guest right would stitch themselves upon their fates. The hosts could not harm the guest or suffer the same fate nor could the guest harm the host without suffering in return. And thus hospitality was ensured. But webs are sticky, the casual watcher would think they break easily. After all, you could walk through a door and feel the shimmer of web stretched across its expanse snap. But that is only the anchor.

The thread is still there, just waiting to be rewoven.

11 AP

2 AP Advanced Concept - Laws of Guest-Right.
1 AP Teach Mundane Concept - Teach Sisi the Laws of Guest Right

Magic (Mistakes)
1 AP - Curse (Sacromancy vs. Transfiguration)
2 AP – Transfiguration
1 Ap – Not even in death do you part.
4/10

Civilization (Motherhood)
1 AP – Spiders
1 AP – Marriage
1 AP - The Woven Children
1 AP - Arachne
1 AP - Tender Lattice
2 AP - Guest Right
1 AP - Teach Sisi Guest Right
8/10

AP: 8

[AdmiralIvy]

The Closing of the Curtain

Itterast stumbled into the clearing, sap still trickling from the stump where their left arm once was. It took them several minutes to sufficiently calm themself and approach Mnetemn's trunk, kneeling before her and intoning the appropriate prayer.

"Mother of Knowledge, I ask that you grant me an audience with the present. I bring news of the wider world, and in return ask only for your counsel."

She spoke before she had even descended from her foliage, "Audience granted, Itterast. I understand the need for ceremony, but you've visited me more than a dozen times. It would be a strange day were I not to guide you."

"I understand, but tradition holds a place in my heart. That aside, my message is urgent. Seven were lost in bringing it to you."

"Seven? Is there a war brewing?"

"No, only discontent. On my band's journey to Turral, we stopped upon finding the corpse of a human. His blood lay still by the time we arrived, and deep wounds pierced his heart. As we discussed which tribe he may have come from, a great monster hewn of root and stone ambushed us. Hot rage radiated from it, and only together were we able to defeat it. My wounds were the least of them, and I am the only survivor."

"I feel your loss, but for what do you ask my guidance? The crisis has passed, it seems."

"It would have, were it not for a strange part of the story. As I drove my knife deep into the creature, it seemed to melt away, leaving me cradling the dying form of another human. He spoke only one word before he passed, one I have heard before, one which I dread: Dantal. The water of endings."

The Twice-Blessed bristled at the mere mention of that place, but composed herself before responding to her devotee, "I understand now. Dantal is no myth."

"It is a cursed, hidden place. A hideous reflection of your sanctuary."

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention. I will deal with this... aberration."

"I must apologize for questioning you, but how can you? Even with your teachings, there are those among us who forsake knowledge in favor of worldly things. How can you discourage something so tempting as true foresight?"

"Itterast, though you view me first and foremost as a teacher, I have other courses of action available to me. I need not discourage, when I can decree."

The past descended from her perch, and brought herself low to the ground. She looked back at her sister for assurance, and with a nod in response, reached down to the surface of the perfectly still spring, tapping its surface with the gentleness of a falling petal. She spoke softly then, "Let it be so: what was, will be; what will be, was."

As the final word was said, Itterast saw the pool still, heard a soft chime ring out, and felt a wave of pressure pass over them. After a moment they asked, "What happened?"

"I've placed a grand mirror in the path of time, always just ahead of when we are now. Dantal, and all places and people like it, shall no longer look to the future, but instead to the past. No one shall ever again be cursed with knowledge of their fate."

The Stilgast could only look on in awe of their patron's power.

"Now that the work is done, I have something for you, faithful one. You have followed my teachings well, and studied hard. You have broadened the scope of knowledge on this world. You alone, of those who have seen me thus far, are unique in your dedication to the betterment of the world. You are a mentor, in the greatest sense of the word, and I bestow that word upon you as a true title."

Before they could respond, Itterast the Mentor was born inside them, and they felt a surge of divine energy, their wounds closing. They could barely bring the words to their lips, so overcome they were with the miraculous being they had become, but they managed a quiet "Goddess" before falling prostrate.

Mnetemn chuckled slightly, before raising her hand with the palm facing upward "Rise, my child, and go out into the world. Bring my blessings to all who cannot seek them of their own accord. Make the world a better place."

AP: 5/16

Curse (Reflected Foresight -1 AP) [Knowledge (Education)]: Any attempt to magically divine the future instead looks into the past. Trying to see what will happen to your lover in a year? See what they were doing a year ago. Trying to find out when you'll complete a painting? Look back to when you started it.

Raise Hero (Itterast the Mentor -2 AP) [Knowledge (Education)]: A shining beacon of benevolence and rationality, Itterast is committed to improving the world through their work teaching. They have been granted minor regeneration and a vastly extended lifespan, as well as a measure of supernatural confidence and charisma.

Community (Adventurers): 8/10

Create Land (Stilg) 2/10
Create Monstrous Life (Durasta) 3/10
Create Mythical Life (Stilgasta) 7/10
Bless (Dendrological Protection) 8/10

Knowledge (Education): 10/10

Teach Mundane Concept (Alphabet) 1/10
Create Advanced Concept (Literature) 3/10
Create Mundane Concept (Shipbuilding) 4/10
Form Society (Stilgastan Conclaves) 6/10
Create Organization (Stilgastan Universities) 7/10
Curse (Reflected Foresight) 8/10
Raise Hero (Itterast the Mentor) 10/10

Remaining AP: 2/16

[Buufreak]

And as He saw Time and all Things, He could only Weep.

The world quickly shifted. This was good. Foreseen. Inevitable. It teemed with life aplenty. Life in every manner imaginable. But nothing was the imagination of Fate. Fate was the architect, and He was merely the witness.

But things accelerated far faster than previously thought. This wasn't just Fate at work. There were others. Others who came, as He did, and put into place their own machinations and workings, to shape this primitive world into something they had deemed grand.

He, too, would shape, to better allow them to fit into the Greater Workings.

And through all the Heavens, could His Cries be Heard.

He watched. He waited. His own designs were so perfect, that he must share them with the world of the others.

He witnessed. He cried out. A woman who had watched her partner die a sad and lonely death. She had laid him out, and moved forward without looking back. Inevitability was his fate, not hers. But she scorned the laws of above. She could not wait for Ever After to bless upon her.

She baited, and toyed, and coerced. Quickly her consorting was whispered by her fellow mortals, and through them, He made their shame physical.

Death became like an Echo. The very sound of writhing pain and suffering made pale light swirl into the very shadows of man. The now corporeal. The now breathing. The now seething with unbridled rage and rejection. It was not flesh, but all that the flesh could have remembered was there. The feelings of exhilaration when flesh begat flesh, and all sensation melted into ecstasy. But it could not touch, for it had no flesh to touch with. And it would again seethe.

And the seething would be made whole. And the seething would make it whole. And when whole, could it move, and see, and witness. And it would see what Fate held for them. It would see that Fate has chosen their other to gallivant and betray. And their seething would grow further. Further beyond what flesh could have held, but they are no longer flesh, but shadow made whole, and through the shadows would they stalk, and appear, and strike.

Strike cleanly. Strike true. True and through their seething, and once again be made whole and complete, that with this strike, their betrothed would become theirs again in death, but neither should leave that place ever again. All that will remain is the shadow that seethed, and the body that consorted, until Time would allow them both to fade into obscurity.

And from the very Wales, did Heaven shake.

Had 8, +4 rollover = 12

Create Curse, Infidelity through Death (Cursing the Marriage Concept): For any who should bind their life to another and choose to break those bonds after Death, should Death begin to stir and writhe in agony, and His Echo shall rise.
Create Monstrous Life, Death's Echo: A creation of pure malice and darkness, taking the form of a lost lover now scorned. As it moves and witnesses, so too does it grow in its anger, as it sees the gallivanting and infidelities of that which who casted the Echo, until it can stand it no longer and it lashes out, slaying the would be soul bound partner. It remains over the body, still seething in rage, until both body and shadow fade into the nothingness of time.
+2/10 Fate (Afterlife)

Claim domain Fate (Afterlife)

10 AP remain

[FlyingCheseCake]

Hope's Stride

Rahtek regarded the being that flitted about him, her club flicking about as wildly as her dark hair, but he did not slow his pace along the silken thread. Slim shadows spun about him again, briefly, but they could not overcome the sheer force of his emotions...and so his brilliant light continued to sweep the land about them.

“I didn’t do it to spite her...or for you. I see you for what you are, Mistress of Chaos. I have neither met nor measured her, but to my eye if the Spider had her her way all would be bound up in threads of certainty...and if you had yours, all reality would tear itself apart in constant, mercurial strife. You two are more alike than I believe you would admit; neither the stagnation of her path, nor the endless strife of yours, leads to growth. Without growth, there is no strength.”

The mote of light did pause its advance then, and turned to the hide-clad women. A shroud of shadows pulled about him. “You are both necessary to these mortals. From chaos springs all possibilities, while simultaneously desiring no less than a world of reliability such as she promises. Between the two of you dwells growth, improvement...hope. Either this balance thrives, or none of us do.”

Once again facing the temple in the distance, it’s very walls woven between the stars, Rahtek resumed his march.

[FlyingCheseCake]

The Pendulum Swings

Moving along the intangible path, glittering with the very stuff of stars, Rahtek approached the woven walls of the Tender Lattice. Entering through the grand entrance, loose silken strands fluttering as pennants in a wind felt by no mortal skin, he pulled wisps of shadow about his form, his dimmed light reflecting his cooling ire. Given the time during his journey to consider his actions, and having witnessed the chaotic moods of Eralta, he had released the wrath that had set him upon this path.

He did not regret his actions, but he now recognized the necessity of these two beings. Mortal hopes and dreams rotated about these two as iron filings about a pair of lodestones. Those shackled and bound, whether by silk or by steel, cried out for the liberating winds of chaos; those tossed about on a stormy, uncontrollable sea yearned for the unyielding certainty of stone and quay. The pendulum of a mortal life swung between the two, over and over again.

And at it’s pivot sat Rahtek.

“You called, Binder of Fate, and I have come.” Rahtek looked about the great feasting hall, a few Arachne moving sedately among the many archways and openings that appeared to lead to countless smaller chambers. “Hope may spring from conflict and turmoil, but it need not be violent; indeed, the struggle of minds can be as great or greater than that of flesh. I raised my hand against your webs woven between mortals from a place wrought equally of my despair and anger. I will not apologize, but I will give my parole that here, in this place and for this time, I greet you in the same spirit that the invitation was given.”

The mote of light paused it’s advance near the center of the great hall. Briefly, great rays of luminescence speared out from the shadows spinning about the being.

“I am Rahtek.”

6 AP + 4 (Rollover) = 10 AP

No AP Actions Taken

Undeclared
1 AP - Obsidian Flame
2 AP – Pact’s Severance
1 AP – Pact-hewn
4/10

10 AP Remaining

[mystic1110]

Proposal

Rahtek's entrance was first noted by a Woven dwarf. His mother was a squat Arachne living within one of the darkest caves of Atlas's mountain. He hatched from the egg in the dark and missed those tender moments eating rats alongside his sisters. It all came crashing to an end when one of the endless Dwarven inquisitions scoured the mountains for nests. He watched them burn his mother as an abomination. To his shame he pretended that he was a victim, one of their own. He remembered the look of betrayal in his mother's eyes. It was bittersweet for she was happy that he would live and knew why he did as he did.

He never stopped feeling guilty about it and wandered the realms talking secretly with spiders on their web and older Widows. He heard of the great web of the Grand Mistress, his own Great and many times Great Mother. He sought it out to serve her, to atone. Little did he know, at first, that to reach the Tender Lattice, one must first die.

It was another Woven that told him how to get to the halls. She was a beautiful Human but he could sense the strands of silk that bound her heart. She was like him, but she put a finger on his lips and said that whatever they do they could not fall in love. For if they did they must wed per the teachings of the spiders. And if they wed then they were their own for eternity. They could not belong to the Matchmaker, for only those who died unmarried, unmatched could seek her out for the chance to find their match in the next life that they could not find in this one.

And so the Woven dwarf journey to the sea alone and missing the other woven girl and beheld the waves. He tied stones to his legs and walked into the ocean and drowned himself.

SKKKT

He awoke on a starry road and saw in the distances the comforting architecture of his youth. A web. He walked towards it and was greeted by his brethren. He told them he wished to serve and they smiled and said that there will be a time for serving. Now was time for rest. And he was happy for a long while. . .

Until he met Eydoté.

The Giant Spider was busy weaving more of her webs when he spied her from his chores. He was assigned to taking care of those spiders who died before they hatched. He was playing games with them when he saw his Ancestor. He called out to her and knelt. The Great Spider turned and saw him and smiled with her large fangs. She gently came over and embraced him and told him:

Ah my foolish boy. You may Skkkt be content here but you missed your chance at happiness. The two are not one and the same. The girl you met was your Skkkt one and chosen. I wove the strands of your heart myself, I know! And yet you chose to come here, and Skkkt I am happy you did, but i am broken over it. She, equally foolishly choose to love another. Ah! If only you both drowned together you would have come here Skkkt and both found happiness in my tender embrace. Alas, choices have been made and our lives have been chosen.

The Great Spider kissed him on the forehead, a little bit of acid from her fangs scarred him leaving a mark, and then she retreated to continue weaving.

He fell to his knees in sadness that only knows that it could never be happy.

From then on he stayed by the entrance of the Tender Lattice, hoping against hope to see his once intended only one more time, for he knew that she would walk past him with a strand of silk connecting her to her husband.

Years passed and she did not die. But his vigil was not for waste. A mote of bright light approached the halls and for one touched and marked by one god the appearance of another god was obvious. He called out to a nearby spider that another Lord of Creation was approaching and that they should warn their great great great, endlessly great, grand mother. What would happen when two such beings meet?

The spiders called to Arachne who called out to each other and to Woven and spiders until such a web of noise reached Eydoté. She skittered over the webs to the grand hall and gave instructions to her many attendants to prepare a feast of the tastiest and choicest of flies and insects for their esteemed guest.

She met Rahtek in the center of the great hall as he made his pronouncement. The spiders and Arachne held their breaths as they waited for the Matchmakers response to someone tearing apart her weavings . . .

But they forget. Each web is torn apart over and over. Even the greatest can barely withstand the passing of a storm or the passage of a predator. Webs are meant to be rewoven. Why would a spider ever get angry at the wind for blowing? The only response is diligence.

Instead the Goddess embraced the mote of light in her tender appendages.

My look at you! Skkkt, you truly are beautiful! Pay no heed to the webs you've cleaved, I'll weave stronger ones. No - forget them, instead lets talk about the webs I'll weave for you. Have you met your match yet? No! Forgive me Skkkt, I jest, I know you have. My children have told me of your romantic meeting already. The Sparks fly! Such Skkkt chemistry. Let's talk of how you will propose to Eralta! it should be a grand affair! The first Divine Wedding. No no, no need to ask - I'm here and gladly offer my help in all Skkkt ways.

[bc56]

"C'mon, constant strife would be booooring!" Eralta protests. "You've got to mix it up a little!" By now, however, Rahtek is off in the distance. "Hey, wait up!" She rushes after him, arriving at Eydote's palace some time behind him.

Start: 1+4=5/16

Domains:
War (anger)
Life (adaptation)
Death (violence)
Nature (disasters) 9/10

[Citrakayah]

Liegou Gets Covered With Fruit

"Liegou," Erat said one fine evening. "Humans have a lot of fun when they get drunk. But we sisi have tried to drink their alcohol, and we just get sick. Can you help us?"

"There are plenty of herbs you can chew to get the same effect. And blessing you all would be a lot of work." She yawned. "And I feel like a nap right now." And so Liegou fell asleep. But Erat still wished to drink alcohol, and possibly beat the human Tol in a drinking contest, so she started to form a plan.

Several days later, Liegou was out walking in the desert when she came across an abandoned camp. Everything that could have been packed up had been... except for a freshly cooked side of antelope, just sitting on a rock, completely untouched. The smell was so delicious that, quick witted as our creator might normally be, she did not stop to think about how it was an obvious trap. Instead, she approached... and fell down a pit.

This was of no real problem to her, of course, despite the pit being deeper than a dozen sisi standing on top one another. She could just jump out, and so she did. But as she ate the antelope, she noticed that she was covered with brilliant blue berries, all mashed into a paste. Licking them off didn't work--her tongue turned blue and she foamed at the mouth, and also they tasted very bitter indeed. When she went to the nearest river, the clan of humans there took one look and ran away (who wouldn't?), and when she went to bathe herself, while the berries washed off she seemed more blue than before.

Liegou could figure out who had done this, though, and went to speak with them. "I look ridiculous," she grumbled. "How do I get this off?"

Erat laughed, for she was quite a sight, and said, "Let us drink however much alcohol we wish, and I'll tell you." And Liegou had to admit that she had been had, and blessed us all with powerful livers. "It will fade in the sun," she told Liegou.

Liegou was less than happy about this, for it did not fade soon enough--she had to go to the Tender Lattice with her fur tinged blue. But Erat had kept her word, and it was a prank worthy of Liegou.

So Liegou decided to wear the blue dye with pride, and turned to shadows to make her way to the Tender Lattice.



She congealed several feet outside the entrance, neatly groomed, and went to find the other gods, admiring Eydoté's webwork as she went. Such marvelous work... perhaps she would try building at the same scale. Carve a few mountains.

"Ah, Eydoté." Warmth colored her voice as she approached the impromptu gathering. "And Rahtek and Eralt. Lovely to meet you all for the first time. I heard people were getting married?" She gave a wide grin to all three, exactly as toothy as one might imagine.


0 + 4 from rollover = 4

Blessing (Strong Liver) -1 AP: Sisi have the ability to metabolize alcohol and other toxins. They're not immune to poisoning, but if someone invents coffee they won't die if they drink it. [Life (Sisi) 10/10]

3/16 AP

Gain Life (Sisi) as a domain.