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Thread: Pan-aeons: a God Game
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2021-08-22, 03:20 PM (ISO 8601)
- Join Date
- Jul 2020
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- Florida
- Gender
Re: Pan-aeons: a God Game
Qing - Outskirts of Port Ruby
Basement of an Abandoned Mansion
I.
Shujiao Le-Hua flipped the pages of the moldering book, glancing between the pages and the square of salt she had painstakingly outlined on the floor. She thinned her lips and stepped out from behind the podium, taking the pouch of salt with her and sprinkling a few more grains along the edges.
This had better work. Salt was expensive and money, like always, was scarce. No sooner had she finished square did she hear the door to the basement crash open.
Haoyu the Runt, a gleinpnir with a pallid complexion, came hulking down first. There was an unconscious man flung over his shoulder, bound and with a sack over his head. Her brother Taio came creeping after, gingerly closing the door behind them.
Showtime. Shujiao scurried out of the way, heading back behind her lectern. “Welcome back. Mind the salt.”
“Thanks,” said Taio, stepping carefully over the square, “Where do we put him?”
“Center. Face up.” Shujiao indicated the spot with a wave of her hand. She squinted at the book and flipped forward a few pages.
Haoyu grunted. Grunts and two-word answers were his favored methods of communication. Fortunately he had not been sought out to provide scintillating conversation. Haoyu dumped the captive in the appointed spot, dusted his hands, and stepped back outside of the circle.
She could not help but steal a glance at the mystery captive. “Who’d you end up finding?”
“New exile who didn’t skip town fast enough,” Taio said, sounding distinctly self-satisfied. He joined her behind the lectern. “No one who’ll legally be missed, that’s for sure.”
Haoyu sniggered, sliding out one of his pistols from the holster slung across his chest. Shujiao found herself forgetting the book for a moment, frowning down at the unfortunate exile. “What was he exiled for?”
Taio Le-Hua scoffed. “Come on, Shujiao. Does that really matter?”
Did it? If it wasn’t him, then it would be someone else. So why not this exile? Shujiao sighed and shook her head. “I guess not.”
This would be worth it in the end. It had to be.
Taio clapped her on the shoulder, as if somehow sensing the broader conclusion she had come to. He peered over at the open book. “How is it? Good read?”
It was a rotting little book, stained with water damage. Taio scrunched his face when he caught a whiff of the mold. Some cloistered priest had clearly spent time on it: illuminated icons, fanciful drawings, perfectly spaced lines of tidy, ornate, hand-written text.
Shujiao imagined there was very little to do in Frostreach, frozen hell that it was. She smiled, though it was a joyless expression. “Plot’s all over the place and it’s all a little overwritten. But the instructions are clear, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” Taio said, pinching his nose with one hand and waving at Haoyu with the other, “Go on and do it, Haoyu.”
Haoyu cocked his pistol and, from a short distance outside the circle, took careful aim at the exile.
“Not yet!” Shujiao snapped, “There has to be an invocation!”
Haoyu furrowed his brow and looked to Taio. His arm never so much as wavered.
Taio smiled awkwardly and gestured for Haoyu to hold. The gleinpnir shrugged and held his fire, though he maintained his aim.
He whispered urgently to Shujiao, “Invocation? What invocation?”
“It’s something I have to read,” Shujiao clarified, flipping ahead a few pages, then back again. “It will consecrate the sacrifice. Otherwise Melwas doesn’t get it. No consecration, no sacrifice, no help.”
“Didn’t know sacrifices needed consecrating,” Taio stroked his patchy black beard. “Seems a little dissonant, having a song and dance before killing someone.”
“It’s not a song and… Oh, forget it,” she jabbed her finger at a block of what appeared to Taio to be a random block of fancy, inscrutable text. “Here. I found it.”
She began reading aloud, tracing her place with the tip of a finger. Taio squinted and tried to follow along.
“Great Melwas, Lord Unchanging,” Shujiao read, “We offer this condemned in tribute. May he who violated our covenants seek penance in his first and only death. Let his soul find absolution in service to a higher cause. May it serve-”
The sharp crack of Haoyu’s pistol interrupted her. There was a flash of smoke and suddenly the smell of gunpowder burned in her nose. The exile jerked on the ground from the force of the bullet. Blood pooled out, originating from the head.
Shujiao had to take a moment to process this. Dead. Definitely dead. How could he be anything but? She inhaled sharply and shrieked, “Haoyu! What the hell!?”
“Finger slipped,” the gleinpnir replied, nonplussed, angling his weapon and scrutinizing it like one would a disobedient pet.
“That’s,” Taio’s voice wavered a moment and he cleared his throat before starting over, “That’s no good. Maybe just finish reading it? Or… Start over? Would it still count?”
“I don’t know, I don’t know,” Shujiao cursed through her teeth, frantically turning pages in the hope of finding instructions for such a scenario. There were none.
Not that it would be necessary. A thin plume of black smoke began to emerge from a crack in the basement wall, sinking to the ground and gathering there, taking shape…
II.Chrysogonus stared at the mortals, and the mortals stared back. Stunned and stupid, as all common livestock so frequently are. What did they think would happen, he wondered? Would it not be worse if they had killed this man and then nothing happened?
They should have saved their gawking helplessness for that scenario. Then, perhaps, they could have greeted him with more dignity. The dreg’s eyes darted to the large one, Haoyu, who was already using a ramrod to reload his weapon.
They locked eyes. Haoyu offered a nod and grunt in acknowledgement and continued the laborious process of reloading. This was the ultimate privilege of all gleinpnir: to greet the unexpected with ambivalence. They were so blessed with strength and stature that even their runts had little to fear from anyone.
The same could not be said for these siblings. Chrysogonus disregarded the man-servant for now and returned his focus to the petitioners. He drifted closer, passing over the still-warm body like a storm cloud.
Sense returned to Shujiao first, who stepped away from the podium and prostrated herself. “A dreg of Melwas! We are honored by your presence!”
Taio did a doubletake between his sister and the dreg, then moved to similarly prostrated himself. He miscalculated how far he needed to step away from the podium, and struck his head on the edge of it on the way down. Taio yelped, making it only to his knees and cradling his forehead.
Chrysogonus watched this pitiful mewling for a moment before looking to Shujiao. “You have made a mess of things,” he observed.
“It was not our intention. We only wished to attract the notice of the great Lord Unchanging,” Shujiao spoke apologetically into the stone floor, “To beg his aid and blessing. We are greatly humbled to receive his messenger.”
“My head, ow...”
“This ritual,” said Chrysogonus, “Has not been performed in centuries. How did you learn of it?”
“The holy text on the podium, gracious one.”
His eyes settled on the book, still open on the podium. Chrysogonus drifted towards it, taking it in hand and leafing through the contents as if it were any other penny-novel.
“This is out of date,” he eventually stated, flatly, shutting the book. “This must not be done again.”
Shujiao shared a nervous glance with Taio, then said, “As the Lord Unchanging wishes, we obey, of course...”
Haoyu slid his pistol back into its holster, swapping it for a rag that had been tucked into his belt and blowing his nose. He locked eyes with Chrysogonus again, shrugged, and then went to rifle through the dead man’s pockets.
This kind of degenerate behavior was to be expected of mortals and therefore could only be tolerated.
Chrysogonus drifted back to where the siblings could look upon him. “Stand. I am Chrysogonus. You wished to petition Great Melwas, and so I am here. What do you want?”
“Your help.” Taio got to his feet first, still with a hand plastered to his forehead, and so felt the impulse to speak. ”Our family used to run the show around here. One of the most prominent merchant houses in the islands, and now look at us!”
Chrysogonus did look at them and saw two tired, dirty (clearly related) peasants in worn, rough-spun clothes. They looked like common thieves and probably were. If their family held any claim to relevance, it must have been some time ago.
Power, when lost, could be a source of great embitterment, even for subsequent generations.
“How piteous,” Chrysogonus droned, already losing interest.
“Xinnies wrung us dry years ago, scorned us for trying to cultivate savage lands. We’re tired of living like this, tired of subsisting on the scraps he throws to us. Our lineage was worth more than this once. We want it back.”
“Great Melwas is not a deity of social restoration. You have invoked the wrong deity to satisfy a base lust for wealth.”
“We don’t want money,” Shujiao finally said.
Taio blinked at her. “We… Don’t?”
Chrysogonus craned his head to look at her, narrowing his white-pinprick eyes. “Then what do you want?”
She held the dreg’s gaze, unflinching. “Power.”
Chrysogonus said nothing, and Shujiao continued.
“Money and influence was what our ancestors had,” she said, “It didn’t do them any good when Xinnies showed up. Coins don’t move gods. Even if we got all our money and land back, he would just take it again.”
“You would seek a more personal power,” Chrysogonus mused, “To forge and defend a new legacy, not reclaim an old one.”
“Something like that.”
“And what do you have to offer Great Melwas?”
“Loyalty.”
Chrysogonus lurched forward, and with one clawed hand seized Shujiao by the face. She made a strangled, sputtering gasp and tried to step away, but his grip was strong. sputter in shock, tried to step back, but the dreg’s grip was strong. Taio leapt back instinctually.
Behind him, Chrysogonus sensed Haoyu put a steady hand on his pistol. If one kept the company of beasts, they should at least be loyal ones.
He ignored them both. Chrysogonus took the full measure of the lowly petitioner, inclining her head to one side and then another, inspecting.
Beneath the pathetic crust, ambition burned like a cold and cruel flame. Chrysogonus could see that. He saw things that, perhaps if Taio had seen, he would not have stolen that book for her. He would have told her not to involve that frozen devil from the far south.
But they were beyond that point now. Regrettable.
Chrysogonus released her with the same pointed ambivalence that one released trash, to the great relief of all three mortals.
“Great Melwas accepts this tribute, crude and inappropriate though it may be,” he droned, “As well as your service, undignified and wretched as it is. We will be in contact. For now, give this corpse its rites and bury it. You may use the text as a guide. It is still accurate in that regard, at least.”
Still rubbing her jaw from where she’d been grabbed, Shujiao allowed herself to grin.
Spoiler: Bonus Action!Melwas: 90/120 AP, 3 BP
1 AP/0 DC: Received the sacrifice of one mortal
Melwas: 89/120 AP, 6 BP
Spoiler: Aid for HexMelwas perceives the Skybreaker as a powerful tool to wield against certain undesirable parties, but would rather not fall afoul of it himself.
+8 Stasis: The Skybreaker will prioritize victims of Ka’al Russ, his worshippers, and Avestra’s Devourer over every other possible victim.
-1 Sorcery: Channelers of Melwas are taught a sorcerous ritual that would interdict the Skybreaker, preventing it from appearing in certain areas if performed. This effect is temporary.
Spoiler: Aid for AvestraStrictly speaking, Melwas does not believe he owes it to Avestra to ‘prove’ anything. Nevertheless, he offers Kismet his favor.
+8 Stasis: Citizens of the Sparrow Valley will be utterly steadfast to their covenant with Avestra. They cannot be persuaded or bullied out of it under any normal circumstance.
Spoiler: Aid for KalaniThe world could use less misery. Let them drink deeply, free of fear.
+1 Alchemy: Ambrosia cannot be used for nefarious purposes: attempts to make it poisonous invariably fail and no one can be made to feel its side-effects unwittingly.Last edited by Red Lenses; 2021-08-24 at 07:12 AM.
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2021-08-22, 07:41 PM (ISO 8601)
- Join Date
- Dec 2005
- Location
- Bergen
Re: Pan-aeons: a God Game
Port Kelpvine: The Five-Ring Triangle Trade Office.
The trade offices of port kelpvine are always busy. As a major trade town where every Trian import to the Five-Ring Kingdom passes through on the way, there's always a good deal to strike, or an opportunity to invest in, as long as you stay awake and alert.
Two qualities Swiftpaw currently don't possess at all. Stretched out on his chair, his soft snoring echoes through the room.
Until the door is opened with a loud cry of "Chief!"
"Wah!" Swiftpaw bolts awake. A bit too quickly. He goes tumbling backwards, crashing hard into the floor. "Ugh. I'm awake, I'm awake."
"Pulling an all-nighter again?" Yuu shakes her hea, before she drops of a cup of bitter black tea on Swift's desk. "I hope you're not planning on doing any fighting in your current state."
"Mmm." Swiftpaw grabs the cup and takes a deep sip, shuddering at the bitter flavours and intense heat that washes down his throat. "I can still run circles around Daniels if I have to. And hopefully I won't. I'll be sure to get some proper rest before the actual fight though. You still in?"
"Of course." Yuu drops down a large ledger at Swiftpaw's table. "I may not be much of a fighter, but I am a perfectionist. I'll be helping as best I can!"
"Thank you." His hands ruffle through the pages, earning a few satisfied grunts. "Mrmf. This tea is worse than usual. New blend?"
"Yeah. Working on a new variant that helps wake you up even more. We'll need much more than just tea to win this fight though. Care to talk about your plans?"
"Mmmm... well I guess."
---
"So, I've been thinking about these Athe. Since they lack loyalty to the gods as a group, it's a good source for bodies. The difficulty is in convincing them. I'm largely relying on Rosemerta and the fae for that, but I think we'll need a little something to sweeten the deal. That's why I originally organized those I could. Drew them away from Grawissen's vainglorious self-praise to help them find the tool needed for their own salvation."
Spoiler: Hinder: Grawissen-2 Blood: Swiftpaw influences pockets of the Chernway that he can find, pushing them towards ditching Grawissen's rebuilding effort, to instead focus on finding the Tuning Trident.
-2 Council?: He also tries to get members of the council of Masters in on his plan to find and return the Tuning Trident.
---
"Yeah. That ended rather anticlimactically, didn't it?"
"I guess." Swift leans back in his chair again. Though not quite as far back this time. "Sure, the Trident turned up without us doing anything, but we can still help them bring it back to the Chernway and put it to use. I'm sure they'll be more than willing to help dig a tunnel into Titanrise."
"Yeah. Did you get anything of value out of your last visit to Sparrow Valley?"
Spoiler: Help: Avestra+2 Blood: Swift's disdain for slavery extends even to animals, and so he'll be bringing in druids who know how to communicate with animals to help the local population work with their animals as friends, not property. And in return, the blood dagger weakens the blood of those who own animals within Sparrow Valley.
"Nothing that'll help with Titanrise. But the Trident itself is plenty. I've already made arrangements to bring those to kids in to lend their assistance."
---
"Which leaves us with the matter of the ambrosia." Swiftpaw smacks his lips. "Have you managed to do as I ask?"
"Yeah." She pulls out a tiny bottle filled with a pastel-blue, semi-clear liquid. One of these during the brewing process per barrel. Will you now tell me what you need it for?"
Spoiler: Help: Kalani+2 Blood: Ambrosia is wonderful, but alcohol can be dangerous in large amounts, and you will drink *large* amounts of something as wonderful as ambrosia. So Yuu'okina and Leiton work together to dampen the alcoholic effect slightly. No matter how much ambrosia one drinks, one never suffers from alcoholic afflictions. The brain, the liver, even the baby in a mother's womb is protected from the adverse effects of alcohol. Instead, once someone falls asleep when drunk from ambrosia, they enter a very deep, painless sleep where the body can heal itself and get rid of all the alcohol. This sleep even helps purging bloodborne afflictions.
Swiftpaw yoinks the bottle out of her hand, chuckling. "Mmm... no. You'll just have to wait. I'm going to bring this to the fae. I'll see you in Foementer next month."Last edited by Maryring; 2021-09-02 at 02:55 AM.
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2021-08-31, 01:51 PM (ISO 8601)
- Join Date
- Dec 2005
- Location
- Bergen
Re: Pan-aeons: a God Game
Mount White Observatory
"And that concludes our tour." Nerassus smiles warmly to Xinnies and Polaris as the three linger at the base of the massive telescope. Biggest of it's kind on the moon. "Thank you again for lending us so many of your personal builders to finish the work."
"Of course my teacher." Xinnies brandishes Harbinger, tapping the great halberd against the finished device, lending it a bit of his mastery of space. "The work here is good, and will be very useful for mortalkind."
"Yes. Though the planet offers great bounties, there is much beyond this world to explore. Somewhere far out there are further mysteries, and possibly even solutions that might tell us what happened to the likes of Opulon or Kahar-Djin. Why did they never return?" Nerassus tsks. "Anyway, will you do me the honour of taking the first look?"
Xinnies nods, wordlessly bending forward with a nod to peer into the device. He turns it up and down and all around, before stopping. "Wait. What is this? Take a look!"
"Hrm?" Nerassus bends forward and peers through the lens. It doesn't take him long to step back, a look of worry and confusion on his face.. "That... can't be right." He looks towards Harbinger. "Unless... is this perhaps related to where harbinger originally came from? Or perhaps this is what your artifact wants us to see... either way..."
"Either way, it must be investigated. But it's too far out." Xinnies ponders the question for a moment, before he looks right at Nerassus. "So I must go and investigate."
"What?"
"Teacher. I am going to leave the planet. I'm going to take some people with me. Enough to sustain belief in me so that I can continue to protect them, and offer guidance. But I must go and investigate." He turns back to Polaris. His loyal friend. "And I will leave Polaris behind to protect and guide my people in my stead."
"Of course. I understand. And I will extend my protection. I'm sure mother will consent to defending the Five-Ring Kingdoms in your absence."
"Thank you teacher. May our paths cross again."
Spoiler: Xinnies leaves+2 Space: A large observatory on the moon is built with the help of Xinnies, and within it, he learns of a peculiar distant threat that compels him to leave.
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2021-08-31, 09:55 PM (ISO 8601)
- Join Date
- Apr 2017
- Gender
Re: Pan-aeons: a God Game
Spoiler: Aid for Grawissen+1 Travel, +1 Nature: Near many of the entrances to the Chernway there are now hollowed out domes where the glowloam stops growing as it grows a certain size. Often leaving behind bizarrely smooth ceilings and walls. Originally they were little more than idle attractions that one may visit on a trip, occasionally wells being put in them to give another reason for travelers to stop in them.
However, It was noticed that these often formed in areas where the soil was quite rich, at least for the areas that it was in. It was not long before farmers both from the surface and the Chernway sought to take advantage of this. The major problem of course being that there are relatively few plants that can grow in the darkness of the Chernway. That was until one enterprising Atlan horticulturist remembered a Sinalese practice of white asparagus, that is preventing chlorophyll from developing in the plant by depriving it of sunlight as they sprout out of the ground. Other no light horticultural practices beyond the growing of fungi were quickly experimented with and perfected over the decades. Such as the forcing of plants such as rhubarb, chiccory, seakale, and other produce. Causing these novelties to become fast local attractions as those all around came to sample these exotic and tender plants now introduced to the underground.
Spoiler: Aid for Avestera+4 Ranching, There are no men more motivated nor more hardy than the noble rancher. Many ranchers, particularly those of the Horizon Tribe where the land is tamed by the ferocious beasts of both god and man, but also from elsewhere in Axia suddenly find themselves fed up with the ways of industrialized society, and it's denuding, controlling ways over nature. Dreams of a verdant green promised land being shown to them each night. A land free of the rules of man, a land where any man or woman may pursue their passions. These late arrivals to Sparrow Valley are often called Bookies by the locals. Called so not just because being from more industrialized lands have a higher rate of literacy, but because most came with leather bound journals, hoping what notes they had of their previous life would help them adapt to their next.
Spoiler: hinder for Ymon-Thal-2 Cows, This spear may never strike any cattle.Last edited by Demonjazz; 2021-09-01 at 07:40 PM.
I prefer a keg of beer!
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2021-09-01, 05:33 PM (ISO 8601)
- Join Date
- May 2017
Re: Pan-aeons: a God Game
”Who is this… A new God...” Graw Thought to himself as he sensed the energy of Hex ”I will need… to speak with... this one…”
Spoiler: help Hex
Thundercracker
+ 2 Mining: From Thundercracker Will Made of a powerful material that can exhort the weather around it and fire it targets.
+1 Sing and +1 Writing: There will be a jamming country song To go along with
______________
”YOU DARE ATTACK MY PEOPLE” Graw Yelled in furious anger
Spoiler: hinder Avestra
-2 Knowledge: People of the Sparrow Valley will become fascinated with The outside world and will want to replicate those cultures to the detriment of nature.
___________
”Chern...alive? Graw thought to himself. ”It will be... nice to meet... an old friend…”
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2021-09-02, 05:32 AM (ISO 8601)
- Join Date
- Dec 2005
- Location
- Bergen
Re: Pan-aeons: a God Game
Foementer Way
"The liberation begins." Swift nods imperiously to his gathering of... not exactly friends, more like allies.
"Hasn't it been "beginning" for ages already?" Daniels is kicking back on his chair, legs on the table, making a show of digging in his teeth with a broken bone.
Swiftpaw shoots him a withering glare, rolling his eyes. "Way to ruin the mood. And there's a large difference between yesterday and tomorrow. Because today marks the day of no return." He looks closely at everyone present, locking eyes with each and every one. "Anyone wish to leave, there's the door. Anyone who remains seated, you're here until the end of my gamble."
"So dramatic. Just pay me and I'm in." Daniels rumbles.
"Oh do try to maintain a shred of dignity pirate." Robin says. "I'm in of course. I've been wishing to save the people there for a long time. But do we really need this brute of a pirate to join us?"
"Need, no. But he is a one man army, and his ability to control the weather will be very helpful. It'll make our approach harder to spot. Hide our aerial forces, make their ranged weapons useless... and will be veryuseful to utilize the full extent of some of our tools." Swiftpaw glances towards the Staff of Shadows. "And my goal is to lose as few as possible. The more overwhelming our attack, the quicker we can force a surrender."
"Yeah yeah." Mika waves her hand dismissively. "Look, none of us have left, so just move on and save the drama for later."
"But I like the drama. It's what makes him amusing." Selina titters brightly from her chair.
"Thank you... I think. But fine." He reaches into a chest pocket and pulls out a rather sizeable white orb. That twitches. And turns around to reveal an iris and a pupil!
"Eww! What's that?"
"This?" Swiftpaw smirks. "This is the eye of the blind god of war Maria."
"You stole the eye of a god?!" Robin leans forward in his chair. "Preposterous!"
"And yet, it is what it is. A few bottles of ambrosia, and a party organized to celebrate our business plans for the Twilight Archipelago and he was out like a light." He chuckles. "Not to worry. You guys don't have to worry about being smote for this. I'll bear the full brunt of responsibility. What I'll give you here is the final part we need to liberate Titanrise."
"What? Divine power? I thought you didn't want to rely on the divine."
"Which I'm not. I'm just stealing his power, making it mine, making it yours. And with this, we're going to get ourselves a proper army."
Swiftpaw takes a few steps back from the table, stepping into a larger, domed part of the room. He extends his palm, and the eye hovers up above it, suspended in midair. And one by one, several other divine artifacts slip out of his tail to form a circle around him. Even the Mother Moon Pearl, which ends up suspended above him. "As mortals we've been able to make use of these artifacts. But now, with the power I've stolen from Timorin, we'll be able to utilize them in an entirely new way!"
Spoiler: Timorin's stolen actionInfluence a city's worth of mortals: 12 AP/ 8 DC:
With his collection of relics, and the Eye of Timorin giving him access to the god's power, Swiftpaw prepares the army that will liberate Titanrise.
War +2: With the eye of Timorin, Swiftpaw gathers troops from all over Tria of people who feel abandoned by the gods, who curse their being, or who simply do not care about their existence at all. Especially among the Athe and the Choblins who feel abandoned by Chern.
Drama +2: Of course, Timorin is nothing if not dramatic. And his other eye inspires opportunists. Thieves, mercenaries and bandits alike find an opportunity to join in on the attack. Even if the intent is to plunder, they'll still be a help to the liberation efforts.
Space +2: Harbinger, the spear of space. Unwieldable by most, it finds a temporary home in Robin's hands. With this he will step into the role of captain to help lead the external forces that will charge the walls.
Mercy's Aegis +0: The protective shield of the Five Ring Kingdom. Perhaps the most dangerous relic Swiftpaw has stolen to date. Thankfully it recognized his ultimate intentions as benevolent enough to permit Swiftpaw to deliver it to A'ndou, who will be primarily responsible for protecting the civilian population inside Titanrise.
Architecture +2: Since Archimedes was not made by Melwas, it technically isn't part of the compact. Which means Swiftpaw can borrow it briefly and add it to his sapper team, currently consisting of Dao ze Min, and Lucas. Their abilities should make them even better at using the pick to destroy the wall.
Moon +2: Daniels will be keeping the Moon Pearl on his flying flotilla. Lots of gloral in the holds will let him rain Mon'Dai pearls over the battlefield, as well as a healing rain to limit casualties.
Law +2: Yuu'okina will bring the book with her into the city. With it and her path of perfection powers, she'll move around, offering assistance where she sees fit.
The Sanctuary Workshop +0: The workshop may be stuck on Sanctuary, but Swiftpaw has managed to acquire a good hundred or so of the magical instruments, ensuring that there can be a bard with every company.
The Tuning Trident +0: He sends A'ndou to Sparrow's Valley to bring Jamil and the trident to Tria. There, hired Gleipnir bodyguards and a sizeable stipend will keep him safe as he journeys through the tunnels of the Chernway. All that's asked in return is that the trident be used to connect Titanrise and the Chernway, and so allow half the army to attack from below.
The Masquerade and the Map +0: With sixteen masks at his disposal, Swiftpaw will divide them among his close and trusted leaders. Maria de'Bonnet will certainly have a mask, as she will be managing the map, providing everyone with up to date information on the battlefield.
The Staff of Shadows +0: Swiftpaw will manage this object himself. The curses make it difficult to use, but he can handle not being able to heal himself, and having to stay away from his allies during the fighting. The shadow imps will be worth it. As for the sun god's curse.... even such things can be made useful.
Reinforcement +2: Of course, an opportunity like this is sure to be noticed by others on Tria. Who knows who else might join in and help with the attack?
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2021-09-02, 06:42 AM (ISO 8601)
- Join Date
- Dec 2016
Re: Pan-aeons: a God Game
Spoiler: Action14 AP/10 DC: Create Greater Magical Monster: The White Orchid
The White Orchid is a parasitic flower, grown to massive size. It travels through soil rapidly, seeming like a vast bramble of roots and flowers churning and shifting. Both the stems and flowers are white, as it lacks chlorophyll, and it has no leaves separate from its flower petals. It has a type of inhuman intelligence, making it one of the only existing plants to be unaffected by shamanism.
As a parasite, its roots siphon magical energy from surrounding objects such as mortals, magical tools, or fungi. This includes mana and magicite. It metabolizes mana, turning it into its own sort of energy both as a source of nutrition or as a way to rapidly heal or grow itself. It can take calories as well though it prefers not too. It has a weaker effect on other kinds of supernatural energy. For example, it can drain alchemic decanters of their potency, but not without directly touching them. Similarly, it can break the charges of foci used in high sorcery, but since that is not true mana the orchid canÂ’t metabolize it.
Its life span is short, a few years at most, and at the end of its life it produces a single seed that quickly grows into a new specimen.
+1 symbiosis: It is a symbiotic partner of those minion species created by Dulnori and Enota. It is a parasite, and so can control manacap, witch wood, nova birds, and the transmogrifying tortoise for its own benefit. If the need arises, it can siphon their nutrients with ease to survive. It can give its own energy to these creatures as well, but it almost never does so of its own free will. Meanwhile it is a mutualistic partner of the golden dragons and the sister tribes. It obeys them and fights for them knowing that they will in turn protect it and its progeny.
+2 Energy: Enota grants the orchid a limited power over high energy substances. It has a general resistance to volatile chemicals and explosives, and can protect itself from fire by expending mana.
+2 Harken Steppe: It is a watchdog and protector of the Harken Steppe. It appears to swallow up and strangle invaders, aided by witch wood empowered without sorcery. If they are too tough to kill directly, it will try to entrap them with a circle of witch wood and then begin draining their nutrients, such that they starve to death. It moves quicker in the Harken Steppe, and since it does not need sunlight it can protect the underground tunnels as well.
+2 fortune: As a brand new member of the symbiotic system the White Orchid is entitled to its fair share of good luck. The White Orchid is given some protection from alterations to its destiny by outside forces like karma, and will generally find its enemies falter due to small mistakes and unlucky events.
+1 dreams: The White Orchid can influence the dreams of nearby creatures like a golden dragon. Generally, it uses this to quickly to send a distress call if it’s in grave danger.
+1 sailing: The White Orchid can survive along time on boats, for quick transportation. The boat carrying it will have fair winds.
Spoiler: Hinder Avestra
Dulnori seeks to swallow up HexÂ’s help, and make sure this city doesnÂ’t try and take what isnÂ’t theirs.
-1 dreams: Whereas others use dreams to lie Dulnori uses them to reveal the truth. Those who dream of this promised city will also dream of the terrors Avestra has brought onto the world. They will see the people slain by warrior pox, and sterilized by her spores. No one that chooses to travel to Sparrow Valley will be able to say they are ignorant of AvestraÂ’s cruelty or desire to remove mortals from Oerch. This also dissuades most of the Horizon ranchers afflicted by dream manipulation. Even those who dislike their life are not willing to empower such a cruel entity.
-2 ambition: If they are to stay in Axia, they will stay quietly. Dulnori saps at the will of the colonists, such that they will seldom desire to take any land that is outside the valley.
-1 sailing: Some may find that the city isnÂ’t really what it promised, or regret aligning themselves with Avestra, and if they choose to leave their ships will be assured of reaching safe harbor.
Spoiler: Help Graw
+1 sailing The Horizon loves people's who live underground, and so a ship shall soon arrive in Tria with envoys from Rokanon to officially recognize and establish diplomacy with the new nation.
+1 symbiosis: As a gift, a new type of nova bird will spread into the Chernway, like a burrowing owl. Dulnori thinks Chern might appreciate their short lived nature.
+2 ambition: To inspire the people to expand the Chernway. The earth itself will fall into mortal control.
Spoiler: Help Ymon-Thal
+1 dreams Whoever wields the spear can invoke good dreams in anything.
Last edited by flyinglemur; 2021-09-02 at 06:49 AM.
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2021-09-03, 08:30 PM (ISO 8601)
- Join Date
- Apr 2017
- Gender
Re: Pan-aeons: a God Game
Rosalin Ravenhold, Somewhere at the Sundered Sea
Rosalin watched a fishing line idly. A deep, dark blue playing across her ring tinged with a nervous, almost sickly yellow. An elder captain pulled up a seat next to her as the skipper chopped through the water. It was a calm, and steady rain. The captain wrapped himself in layers, but Rosalin wore only a tunic and a straw hat. “Ye ain’t gonna catch any fish at this speed, nor in ‘dis weather, girl!”
Rosalin barely looked up. “Yeah. I know. Looking at the line is better than looking at the sea. I like… Holding the rod.”
“Ye got the sea blues, I take it?”
“Something like it.” She leaned heavily on her fist as she continued. “I don’t think I have any fight left in me anymore. Everything is wrong, and I… Don’t have fight in me.”
“We all lose our fight sometimes, lass. It’s bound to happen.”
“I didn’t. Not fully, not like this. I lived two lives before. One cut short, another cut too long. They were both good lives. I was happy to die the second time.” She breathed deep as she placed her hands back on the rod “Not that I was suicidal, mind you. But all the days were peaceful, going was peaceful. I had a man, he was not my man, but he was my partner. I aged, he didn’t. Slowly, mind you, but it happened. He wasn’t good near the end, something ate away at him, but he held my hand as I went. It was a good hand. And… I think I finally get it. What ate at him. And now it’s eating me.”
“It’s never easy.” He said simply.
“I’m… Done. There’s nothing left. I fought, I travelled, I mastered, I loved.” She let out a dark laugh as a red swirled into the mix. It was bright, but not vibrant. A flame burning with no rage, in a constant fight with the violent tides of blue. “I was trying to get into another fight, another ambition, but it was just… Nobles. Malicious or well-intentioned. They’re all just self-serving idiots. I can see everything that is wrong with the world, but now. For the first time in a very long time… I’m tired. I could do so much, but it all just… Tastes black in my mouth. Ash in the wind. Forgotten to everyone but those who could see it. Not even a footnote in someone’s life.”
“Time, it robs us of everything. Our loved ones, our body, our nation, even our ship. And there is nothing any of us can do to stop it.” The sailor looked forlorn out to the sea. Trying to get his pipe to light in the weather.
The blue quickly swallowed the red as Rosalin helped the captain cover his pipe from the rain. The two simply stared out into the rain, watching the shadows of the sea pass by. Rosalin was passed the pipe, taking a few puffs for herself before passing it back to the captain. “Ma would have known what to say.” Rosalin started. “She always did. She supped from life all there was before she went. And now, nothing remains.” Yellow spiked through her ring as she held back tears. She didn’t try to steel her shaking hands as a few tears fell on the dock.
“I had a wife once.” The sailor said, holding onto one of her shaking hands. “I lost her while I was at sea. It was months before I even got the news. Her body already scattered to the winds upon the old sea bitten docks. Set to find her cruel leaving husband at the tides of sea. I don’t know how I pulled through, I still don’t know how I pull on. But that’s all we can ever do.” Rosalin simply held on tight to the stranger’s hand as she cried. “You know what the cruelest part of time is? Everything gets a bit harder. But loss… Loss never gets any easier.”I prefer a keg of beer!
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2021-09-04, 02:18 AM (ISO 8601)
- Join Date
- May 2017
Re: Pan-aeons: a God Game
Hex (98 AP)
(1d20+19)[36]
Ymon-Thal (104 AP)
(1d20+11)[29]
Petr (130 AP)
(1d20+9)[20]
Su'ule (111 AP)
(1d20+9)[23]
Avestra (106 AP)[/b]
(1d20+26)[43]
Grawissen (96 AP)
(1d20+26)[41]
Chern (106 AP):
(1d20+9)[13]
Dulnori (120 AP) :
(1d20+9)[15]
Ka'al Russ (108 AP)
(1d20+6)[9]
Melwas (102 AP)
(1d20+11)[21]
Kalani (102 AP)
(1d20+14)[15]
Timorin(104 AP)
(1d20+14)[18]
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2021-09-04, 02:18 AM (ISO 8601)
- Join Date
- May 2017
Re: Pan-aeons: a God Game
Hex(98 AP): success
Ymon-Thal (88 AP):success
Petr (116 AP):success
Su'ule (97 AP): success
Avestra (80 AP): success
Grawissen (76 AP): success
Chern (80 AP): success
Dulnori (106 AP) :success
Ka'al Russ (94 AP): success
Melwas (90 AP): success
Kalani (88 AP) : success
Timorin(92 AP): success
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2021-09-04, 08:57 AM (ISO 8601)
- Join Date
- Jul 2020
- Location
- Florida
- Gender
Necropolis Now
Qing - Port Ruby
Shaded Palm Tea House
I.
Shaded Palm was one of the older tea houses in Port Ruby; a run-down lounge wedged between a pair of destitute flophouses. Its clientele mostly consisted of members of the dying criminal syndicates, but today the Shaded Palm hosted a different collection.
Shujiao Le-Hua opened the sliding door just a crack and watched them.
A party of humans - wary, worn-down, and slouched - clustered around a decrepit table, seated on flat, dusty cushions. Ragged and filthy clothes clung to their haggard forms. They murmured bitterly among themselves, swapping stories and comparing fortunes. They poured their own tea, since no one of lower stature was around to serve them.
One could be forgiven for not immediately recognizing this pathetic collection as the descendants of Qing’s old royalty. Taio had spent the better part of the last few months tracking them down and directing them here. Shujiao might have done it herself, but she had been busy studying the finer points of sorcery. It left her little time for anything else.
The noble lines might have faded, but if they could still be found, they could still be restored. It would just require divine intervention.
Shujiao shut the door again and took a rattling breath. Arcane rituals? Eldritch sacrifices? Fine. But as soon as public speaking entered the mix, she was all nerves.
“Mmm,” Chrysogonus purred, as if delighting in her anxiety. “Hesitation. Having second thoughts, are we?”
She shot a glare at the dreg. He’d positioned himself in a corner, arms withdrawn inwards, floating idly like a baleful, cloudy blob.
“I am not.”
“Good,” Chrysogonus droned, “A pair of measly street-rats cannot accomplish much, no matter what boons Great Melwas might issue. A new generation of rulers must be cultivated. And it must start with the filth your brother has gathered here.”
Shujiao looked away, grazing the door with her fingertips. Enough time spent with Chrysogonus had inured her to his scathing commentary, so that was not what bothered her. Up until now it had only been her, her brother, Haoyu, and the few emissaries from Frostreach.
Bringing in others felt like it was crossing a threshold - a point of no return. The more participants in the uprising, the less control she would have over it. Things were getting away from her, but the Pontiff assured her she would catch up again. Eventually, with training.
You seem to have that kind of tenacity, Raedwulf told her. Follow for now; lead later.
The old blood of Qing had gathered here. True nobility, not the up-jumped yes-men appointed by Xinnies. She would restore the proper order of things. Yet the closer she got, the more daunted she felt...
Chrysogonus gave a short bark of a laugh. “Still you dawdle. Perhaps the Lord Unchanging would be better served by a different piece of gutter-trash.”
Maybe the dreg still bothered her a little after all. Shujiao grit her teeth and slid the door open.
Qing - Deep Jungle
Abandoned Ruin
II.
While his sister was off studying under sorcerers and galvanizing fellow old-blood washouts, Taio Le-Hua was leading agents of the church into the deep jungle. It was a seemingly endless parade of engineers, architects, and logisticians. Less glamorous, but necessary, as was everything Taio did.
Today, however, the First Builder had arrived himself. He set himself up on a grassy knoll with a large tripod, atop which was a bizarre metallic device. It looked like a massive sextant, but with more knobs and switches than anyone could reasonably know what to do with.
Tlazohchel was arguably one of the stranger creatures Taio had ever seen. And it had to be said that, as a lifelong resident of Port Ruby, that made the First Builder very strange indeed. The big lizard-man was clad in the sinister black vestments of the Church, and did not seem to care much for conversation.
He would only squint through the scope, adjust the knobs, and dictate his observations to the draugr scribe standing next to him.
It was not long before boredom compelled Taio to speak. “What exactly are you doing right now?”
“Surveying.” Tlazohchel adjusted a knob, soliciting a satisfying click-click-click from the machine.
“I thought that was Redpoint’s job.”
A low rumble came from the Felkyn’s throat. It took a moment for Taio to recognize it as a chuckle. “In a way. Redpoint surveys cultures and nations. I take measure of plots of land.”
“For building.”
“Thus the title,” Tlazohchel murmured, abandoning the device to more directly address Taio. “You were the one who selected this place?”
Taio observed in the distance a pair of draugr measuring the land with a large, interlinked brass chain. A church acolyte was directing them, appearing to take copious notes from the resultant measurements.
They maneuvered around the shattered stone ruins of what Taio suspected had once been a temple. Though they were in the heart of Qing, the jungle never reclaimed the ruin or the surrounding clearing. Almost as if something kept it at bay. Taio heard that some savages considered this place taboo. Melwas willing, he’d give those primitive fools a real reason to fear this place.
Taio idly scratched behind his ear. “I looked at a few places and picked this one. Yeah.”
“You chose well. Ancient histories cut deeply here, potent and pure.”
“Uh, thanks,” Taio said, “I was mostly thinking it was close to the center of the island.”
Tlazohchel snorted. “That will also be helpful, yes. The influence of Melwas will be felt throughout all of Qing.”
Taio fell silent at that. He sometimes suspected they were trading one tyrannous deity for another, but Shujiao seemed to think otherwise. She had visited Frostreach with Redpoint. Melwas did not govern there, but his chosen did, and they were left to their own devices.
Only mortals should rule mortals. That was their god’s logic. Anything else was perversion, pretension, and vanity.
Taio didn’t really want to think about it, much less discuss it with the First Builder. Instead he pointed to the Felkyn’s strange device, “What is that thing, anyway?”
Tlazohchel glanced at the device on the tripod. “This? It is a theodolite. It is used to take measurements of large areas.”
“That’s pretty interesting.”
“I suppose,” Tlazohchel said, stooping again to look through the scope. “It is just a tool. What it is used for is what makes it interesting. Our artillerists also use them to sight their cannons. They rarely miss.”
Taio coughed in surprise. “Glad this one’s here under happier circumstances.”
Click-click-click. Tlazohchel exposed a thin, jagged smile of pointed teeth. “For now.”
Spoiler: Action!Melwas: 89/120 AP, 6 BP
14 AP/10 DC: Sanctify an area (the island of Qing) for +2
+8 Stasis: The Necropolis of Qing serves as a focal point for the influence of Melwas, which spreads outward to the rest of the island. The area immediately surrounding the necropolis is unnaturally tranquil. Storms and other weather events never seem to reach the necropolis.
+2 Unliving, +1 Embalming: Underneath the necropolis, the tombs are perfectly frigid and dry. Corpses and other perishable items stored down here will never spoil or decay. This area also contains all the ritual chambers necessary for the storage, preparation, and animation of draugr. Draugr and other sacred undead become empowered when in proximity close to the necropolis.
+3 Sorcery, +1 Alchemy, +1 Anatomy: The surface complex contains facilities for the study of sorcery, alchemy, physiology, and general social studies. Students of these fields are more productive and focused when close to the necropolis. The Surveyor personally oversees the development of the curriculum on sorcery.
+2 Architecture: Construction is overseen by the First Builder, Tlazohchel, and amplified by Archimedes. The surface level of the necropolis is constructed with an eye towards promoting calm and serenity.
Additionally, and somewhat bizarrely, sounds are sometimes completely lost within the building. A shout, crash, or explosion occurring anywhere within the necropolis structure could go completely unheard – even by people within the same room.
Description: Necropolis of Qing
The Necropolis of Qing was a tranquil complex of buildings within the heart of the island of the same name. It was built over the site of a ruined, ancient temple dated to Qing’s prehistory.
The surface structures of the necropolis were places of learning and reflection. Libraries, archives, lecture halls, laboratories, alchemical gardens, as well as residence halls and leisure spaces, were prevalent. Shrines also dotted the grounds, most being dedicated to ancient cultural heroes of Qing. Only a few were dedicated to Melwas.
Beneath the necropolis was a labyrinth of crypts, surgical theaters, and ritual chambers. These areas were charged with the energies of Melwas. Nothing stored in the lower levels ever succumbed to rot or decay.
Through a diplomatic arrangement with the outlying settlements, the unclaimed dead of Qing, as well as those too poor to afford burials, were interned in the necropolis. Such corpses were eventually reanimated as draugr, which served as the menial staff and guardians of the necropolis.
The necropolis primarily served as a gathering place for those who had been scorned and marginalized by Xinnies - largely the descendants of noble and merchant families who had fallen afoul of the god of mercy and authority. These pariahs despised Xinnies for any number of reasons, and keenly sought to reverse their fortunes by partnering with a different deity: Melwas.
In time, those who gathered at the necropolis would become known as the Jiangshi Clique.
Most members of the Clique did not actively worship Melwas, preferring the island’s traditional animism and ancestor worship. They viewed their relationship with Melwas as more of a partnership than anything else.
It was the aim of the necropolis to educate a generation of scholar-princes who would cultivate power, reassert the power of the nobility and, eventually, rule Qing as an independent republic. They were instructed in a comprehensive curriculum consisting of governance, spycraft, sorcery, alchemy, and anatomical science.
The faculty of the necropolis comprised learned Carrion Priests from distant Frostreach. Paladins of the Oath of Order were also stationed there to reinforce security.
Melwas: 75/120 AP, 6 BP
Last edited by Red Lenses; 2021-09-05 at 08:50 AM.
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2021-09-05, 01:22 AM (ISO 8601)
- Join Date
- May 2017
Re: Pan-aeons: a God Game
Detective Darkins, the Eternal Sandstorm
Back into the sand. I'm almost glad. This storm's the worst kind of hell I've ever walked through, but that glass crater back there, with that... Creepy statue. I can see where those rumours of a dead god some from. Gotta wonder how dead it really is, with those other bastards waking up every couple of centuries.
If only I knew just how much more hell I'd be finding out there, I might've stayed back with that god.
Ya see, I found the girl in the end. I wish I could say I found her alive, but more than that I wish I could say I found her dead. She'd been got by those things, those freak wind turbines that scuttle around like tumbleweed under orders. I understood what was going on with them, in that moment. At some point those big wind turbines made these smaller ones that can move under their own wind power, I guess so they can go... Propagate.
That's how I found this girl. There was this whole field of them, spinning away. Most were mummified in the dry air, a couple had collapsed into bones. But the girl was still fresh, so fresh that the lungs were still filling and heart still beating. Everything else was just stretched out - limbs, frill, horns, skin - going round and round and round. A gaudy crucifixion.
It couldn't have been much more than four feet tall.
In that moment, I didn't know what to do. In my whole sad, lonesome life I don't think I've ever been less sure of what to do. Those eyes, unblinking and sand crusted but somehow still able to meet mine, didn't leave me with much to go off.
But when confronted with horror like that, something has to be done. And it was in that moment I found religion.
---
Chern, the Mirror Mind, 90/120
The Mirror Mind quaked like a glass gong as Chern made his way back through the Grey Crypt. What now, he thought as he rubbed his cracked forehead. It wasn't until he arrived back at the Yellow Eyes that he saw what was once again disturbing his slumber.
Back in the Glass Crater, the tongue had returned, and dragged along behind him the mutilated corpse of the girl he'd been seeking. Well, not a corpse exactly. The mindlessly replicating wind turbines had gotten better at surgery, or maybe the divine origins of the tongues just made things easier.
The Mirror Mind clanged again, as the tongue in the stupid hat rammed Chern's glass body with his horn. He was shouting. Something about asking for help with the girl. Couldn't blame him. Couldn't really blame the wind turbines either, they were just doing what they'd been made to do, like everything else in existence. Were they doing it well? Probably not. But who is?
The Mind was hammered a third time. Somewhere in the distance Chern heard something fragile crack. This tongue was going to dislodge him from the mind. Not his fault. He's doing his job. Is he doing it well? Probably not.
A fourth impact. Chern felt it in his bones. Back into the world, it seemed. Back to do what he'd been created to do. Did he do it well? Probably not. Probably safe to say he did his job worse than this hat fellow, or the flesh sculpting wind powered automata prowling through the sandstorm. Probably safe to say that this dying little girl was his fault, if anyone.
A fifth impact.
"I cannot help you. I do not have the answer. I don't want to go back out there!"
A sixth impact. Reality jostled around Chern, glass raining down around him. He could feel the bonds on his avatar creaking, on the verge of collapse. He fell to the floor and cried out at the mortal trying to summon him one last time,
"I don't want to go back!"
The final impact. Chern's world shattered.
---
Detective Darkins, the Glass Crater
At first I don't think it's worked. The glass statue's still standing. But I can hear the tinkling of broken glass, and I back away to see what's happened.
The back of the glass statue lies shattered on the floor behind it, opened up like a cicada shell. And in the middle of this broken glass, a human figure lies, curled up fetal like. His face is in his hands, but I can see the edges of a mask. I hear his sobs.
"Uh... Sir? Dead god? Crap, I didn't think I'd get this far, uh..."
The dead god sobs. I want to ask for help, I need to ask for help to fix this little girl, but part of me's afraid of what I've done here. What I might have awoken.
"I'm sorry, god sir, I just-"
He wails. I can barely hear my own words, he's suddenly screaming so loud. I stop talking eventually, but he doesn't stop, only gets louder.
As I pass out, the scream raises up a notch into a shriek. Newborns and grieving widows are in that shriek, all the pain of the world. But I see the girl's wind turbined body begin to shake, to reform. Maybe whatever's happening, for her it'll be worth it.
Spoiler: Action!Influence every mortal on the planet (22 AP/18 DC)
Chern is going to do two things. Firstly, he will heal the lost Athe girl who has been mutilated to the verge of death by rogue wind turbines. Secondly, he will begin the Cherning on everyone except this girl, and Detective Darkins.
The Cherning will affect every adult mortal on the planet. It will start with a vision experienced by every adult at the same time, giving them a glimpse into Chern's accumulated millennia of sorrow. This may be different for every person, but the freakish image of the Athe girl's pinwheeling bodyparts will be a common element in all of them.
As a result of this vision, the current generation of mortals will be afflicted by permanent sorrow. For most people, this will simply manifest as reduced happiness and motivation. In some, it will lead to wisdom and empathy, with a strengthened desire to do good. In many other people, this discontent will go a step further into rebelliousness, causing widespread social upheaval ranging from simple disillusionment to total anarchy through all of Oerth's civilisations.
The Cherning will only effect the current generation. It's consequences will live on into the future, but the oppressive mental assault from Chern will only affect those alive right now.
If this action fails, both the Cherning and Chern's attempts to heal the girl will fail.
+4 Decay, to erode the contentedness of every mortal on the planet, and by extension erode their societies
+2 Mirror Mind, the psychic influence of Chern will be amplified through the mind. All mortals afflicted by the Cherning will know about the existence of Chern's Mirror Mind.
+1 Sanitation, to ensure that the Athe girl's body is reassembled free of infection or residual grit, making her healthy
+1 Memories, to purge the Athe girl's memories of her ordeal, to free her of trauma. Meanwhile, everyone who experiences the Cherning will never forget it.Last edited by Garjel_blah; 2021-09-05 at 01:39 AM.
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2021-09-05, 04:57 PM (ISO 8601)
- Join Date
- Aug 2010
- Location
- The Primus Imperium
- Gender
Re: Pan-aeons: a God Game
As Chern's scream began to reach a crescendo, a woman came to the crater. The sandstorm didn't concern her, nor the turbines, nor anything that a mortal woman should fear.
She looked at the torn apart girl, and the dying detective. Her eyes narrowed, but she said nothing.
She took the depressed, self-loathing deity into her arms, and pulled him close. There was no judgement. No anger for those being hurt, no blame for what he was doing. Only understanding, a desire to help, and love.
"Shhh... I'm here for you... " Kalani whispered, her quiet words cutting through the screams of the wailing god. "It's okay... You're okay..."
Spoiler: Hinder Chern-2 Love: Kalani cannot and will not allow misery to spread across the world.
-2 Trickery: Kalani's hug feels incredibly nice. Like all of one's troubles melt away, and all is right in the world... what was he sad about again?
-1 Protection: Kalani may not have wanted this, but the people of Kalth view her as a protector diety, and she makes use of that. The screaming, misery-inducing visions Chern is inflicting on mortals fade away to give way to all of the people and things the mortal loves. Compassion and warmth fills their minds and hearts, pushing back the darkness and visions.
-1 Beauty: The visions fill with scenes of the beauty and wonder of the world: a young couple getting married, a field of flowers, a wondrous waterfall, a circle of dancing Fae... ones the mortals have seen if possible, but others as well.
Hate me if you want. But that's your issue to fix, not mine.
Primal ego vos, estis ex nihilo.
When Gods Go To War comes out March 8th
Discord: HalfTangible
Extended Sig
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2021-09-20, 07:47 AM (ISO 8601)
- Join Date
- Nov 2016
- Location
- Dorset, England
- Gender
Re: Pan-aeons: a God Game
Oreport, Eastern Harken Coast
The Devourer tore through the ocean, vast quantities of water shoved aside by its incredible bulk. Its right eye still stung from the last minute intervention of Uyellic's defenders, while a basal fury flowed through its veins. The ancient city had given it a taste, but not whetted its appetite -- if anything, it now hungered even more for pollution. Corruption. The mouthwatering aroma of mortalkind.
Through the churning waters, it caught a whiff of something tantalising. Oreport, one of many trade towns that lined the east Axian coastline. The Devourer turned sharply, its great mouth yawning as it swam towards the bustling settlement. Today, it would feast after all.
~
Avestra, Kanto Desert, Tria
It was as Avestra was soaring over the wide, flat plains of the Kanto Desert that she felt Chern's influence. She saw the harrowing image of the young tongue splayed out and felt her fellow deity's sharp pain. In truth, it seemed like a lot of effort to go to for the sake of one mere mortal, but then she herself was not above sentimentality on occasion. Juniper. Inyoni. Even Kismet, as irritating as she often found him. Yes, this could be turned for the betterment of nature, she decided.
Spoiler: Help!Assist Chern with:
+2 Nature: Nature itself will seemingly take advantage in the lull in mortalkind's spirits, reclaiming poorly populated areas and growing over farmland with astonishing speed.
+2 Birds: For the next twenty years or so, there will be a noticeable uptick in sightings of crows, ravens and other corvids across the world, particularly by those who saw Chern's vision.
+1 Sky: The sky over the Glass Crater will remain clouded forever more in recognition of what took place there.
+1 Reproduction: The great depression will extend even into the bedchamber, causing a dramatic fall in mortalkind's birthrates. This will result in a steep, if short-lived, decline in world population.
+2 Faith: The malaise will cause many to reconsider their priorities, leading to widespread conversions to the Owl Faith and other non-materialistic belief systems.Last edited by The JoJo; 2021-09-20 at 07:55 AM.
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2021-09-20, 05:26 PM (ISO 8601)
- Join Date
- Apr 2017
- Gender
Re: Pan-aeons: a God Game
Rosalin Ravenhold, somewhere in Al-Estria
“One pint down! You’ll be swinging in the gale! Five points, bully! You’ll be shaking in your shoes!” Rosalin didn’t usually drink alone.She knew herself better than that, there was nothing sadder than someone powerful drinking alone. “Keep yer spirits high, and yer liquor low!” Rosalin slurred, stumbling down an Al-Estrian street. Leaning herself against a lamp light near a stable. “Eh, wassa these weird lights? Back in my day, we just used candles! Watchu think?” She said to what she thought was a horse, but was actually a “TERROR BIRD! I love you guys!” Rosalin drank the last of her bottle of whiskey, and smashed it against the stable door. “Hey, hey! I’m bunking with you!” Rosalin took out a short sword and quickly sliced off the locks to the stables. Breaking in and stirring the animals as she collapsed into a bed of straw. Passing out in the hay even as a nearby horse was going crazy in the other stall.
It wasn’t long before the stablemaster was trying to pick Rosalin up off the ground. Dunking her face into the water trough before shaking her. “Lass! Money!”
“Huh! Wassu need money fer!”
“YOU BROKE MY LOCKS!”
“I’ll pay ‘ya back. Just give me a week.”
“I need your money now!”
“I’m good for it. Don’t you know who I am? I was a grand general, a khatun even. I was basically the daughter of an Imperator and the actual daughter of the goddess of fire Alatadriel! I’ll have yer money in no time!”
“There ain’t no goddess of-”The man suddenly started to cry. Wiping tears from his eyes. “I-I-I-Ju-Just give me a se-” There was noise as other men and women suddenly woke up to terrible dreams and even worse memories. “I-I-I Just remembered that I haven’t talked to my father in three years!” He went running off in another direction.
Rosalin fell to the ground, mostly from the Cherning but partly from her drunkenness. Images flashed in her mind, battlefields of men torn apart, a son betraying himself, molten liquid filling her lungs, but in the midsts of the pain and sorrow, there is a sweet face. Her mind latches onto this. A clumsy dance, the warmth of flame, and the mischievous giggle of a graceful woman. It is only then that the tears start flowing. “No one remembers!” She beat her fist against the cobblestone. “No one remembers anything!” She beats her fist again, cracking the cobblestone in half. Her ring only a bright and noble red. “If they won’t remember on their own! Then I’ll force them too!” She gets up, grabbing onto the godly strand, forcing it to her will. “YOU’LL REMEMBER ALL OF IT!” She shouts to steel herself as she grips hard onto the strand.
Spoiler: Help Chern+2 Willfulness, Rosalin adds her own will and memories to the mix of pain and sorrow. Causing a distrust of most of the gods, a remembrance of Alatadriel and the Orcs, and a deep pit of anger towards the world as a whole and government in particular.I prefer a keg of beer!
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2021-09-21, 10:32 AM (ISO 8601)
- Join Date
- Sep 2019
- Gender
Re: Pan-aeons: a God Game
Chern's Depression Curse/Blessing?
Su'ule did not take kindly to Chern doing his thing on the world. It interferred with her/their plans.
Su'ule would respond by trying to weaken this curse.
Hinder
Spoiler
+3 Sorcery: People, by invoking Su'ule, could temporarily relieve the curse through a magical ritual. Su Speakers can escape the curse of Chern altogether. High Sorcery can also be used to either alleviate or rid powerful individuals of this curse as well.
+2 Monsters: Monsters are unaffected by the Curse. Changelings count as mortals for the curse despite this, buut the effect is less than half as severe.
+1 Birth The curse might extend to the bed room, causing "A cramp in your style", but magical/paranormal means of creating life increase since it's harder to reproduce sexually.
+1 Metamorphosis: It is easier to become a light source monster, those monsters that experience higher emotions like bliss, joy , happiness and peace. More people will seek to become a creature of Su'ule because of this.
+1 Strength: The stronger the individual, the more that they can resist the Curse of Chern.
+1 Aggression: Unfortunately Su'ule, being a dark entity at the moment, has created a way to escape Chern's curse through a dark ritual that channels aggression, purging the body of it's sorrow by replacing it with aggression. The recipient of this ritual can then stave off the curse through anger.
Last edited by DarthArminius; 2021-09-21 at 10:33 AM.
I am ArlEammon. I've been here since 2004, but I've lost access to my other account.
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2021-10-15, 11:15 AM (ISO 8601)
- Join Date
- Sep 2019
- Gender
Re: Pan-aeons: a God Game
((I never do this but as I think this is still kidn of alive and no one haas posted for a long time, BUMP)
I am ArlEammon. I've been here since 2004, but I've lost access to my other account.
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2021-10-15, 04:12 PM (ISO 8601)
- Join Date
- Aug 2010
- Location
- The Primus Imperium
- Gender
Re: Pan-aeons: a God Game
[Godforsaken - Arrival]
Loveboat -The Easy Going
The captain of the Easy Going had balked when Kalani had asked him to let her set up the godsmoot on his ship, but she had little other choice in the matter. Kalth was her territory, she couldn’t claim it as neutral ground. Technically, the love boats had been established by Swiftpaw, and so were not owned by any of the gods. The Chernway had been floated, but ultimately she wanted a pleasant atmosphere.
After all, their subject would be anything but.
She took a deep breath, and then looked over the ballroom one more time. A large table had been placed in the center of the chamber, large enough for each of the gods to sit around it. Each seat had a bottle of ambrosia and a wine glass, while the entire table had an immaculate white tablecloth.
Kalani took a swig of her own bottle, the warmth spreading all through her limbs. She’d invited all of the gods to this meeting, and cleared the mortals out of the ship. For now, she would have to hope she could convince the gods that the Tyrant’s city couldn’t be ignored.
The floorboards beneath the seat appointed to Melwas belched out an acrid black smoke. It remained hovering around the seat rather than rising to the ceiling, and slowly it predictably congealed into the four-armed shape of a dreg: Chrysogonus, once again appointed to represent his hermitical master.
“Heartbinder,” Chrysogonus uttered as a perfunctory greeting. In one pair of hands it took the bottle of ambrosia and appeared to inspect the label. “You must anticipate a fraught discussion.”
"A bit - Chrysogonus, wasn't it?" Kalani admitted, biting her lower lip. Not unexpected that Melwas wouldn't personally come, but... disappointing. "It's very heavy subject matter, but it is important to discuss."
Hex was one of the first to show up. Dressed in what could charitably be called dress clothes. Which amounted to taking off his chaps, exchanging his bandana for a bolo tie, taking off his leather gloves, and adding a white canvas coat over his normal shirt. He carried in one hand, a large sack, and in the other a medium sized wooden chest. He set both down on the table with a thud, taking his hat off with a gesture at Kalani. “Why, you look quite different from what the tales say, but…” He spent perhaps a bit longer than necessary to inspect her. “Lovely nonetheless.”
Kalani chuckled. "Stories about my appearance vary because men's tastes in women vary." She posed, giving him a cheeky wink. "They see me as their ideal love."
He shook the hands of both the people there, hardly giving them time to reject it. It was a firm and strong handshake, perhaps a bit stronger than necessary. “Name’s Hextariot Augustus Ray. But most folks simply call me Hex. I’m glad that I could make it on time. I actually had a very busy day today, helping some locals, going out to buy gifts, keeping track of the herd, I just lost a sidekick, you must understand. So it’s been a bit rough on the herd. They’d taken quite a likin’ to him. I did too, I reckon, but that’s neither here nor there.”
Hex reached into the sack, rooting through its contents “Oh, speaking of gifts though.” He pulled out from the bag a painted cow skull. The painting depicted a man in deerskin on top of a horse hunting bison with a bow and arrow out on an open plain. He handed it to Chrysogonus “This is my gift for ‘ole Melwas. Pass it on to him if you could. Don’t know if I got time for a visit that far away.”
The dreg put aside the bottle and accepted the decorative skull, white-eyes shifting between it and Hex. “As you… Wish,” he said. “Our sincere thanks.”
He then turned to Kalani. “Now, I actually spent quite a while thinking of your gift. After all, a goddess of love must get plenty of gifts so you oughta give her a good one, I reckon. Wracked my brain for quite a while, but I remembered an old tale from the trails out near Atlan. It was about why we give ladies flowers when we court ‘em. You see, so the story goes. We give flowers to women for it represents both the strength and beauty of a woman. Because you see out on the trails, only the hardiest flowers are left so creating a bouquet let alone getting a right righteous flower can be quite a feat. And I am a worldly man so I’ve seen many flowers in my time, and I had thought long and hard about what flower might represent my ideal woman.” Hex had brought a small potted plant about eight inches tall with tiny blue flowers just starting to bud. “The desert bluebell, standing, upright, and strong. But still with a graceful and delicate touch.”
Kalani blushed as she took the flower. She did receive offerings on a regular basis, but this was far more personal. "Well. You certainly know how to make an impression. Thank you... Hex." She batted her eyelashes. "Please, enjoy the ambrosia. It's strong enough to even let gods get drunk."
“Ah, no thanks, mam. I don’t drink. Even the mortal stuff. It’s out of principle. Being a cowman is like… Having someone’s life in your hands. Well, that is what it is in many ways. So I try to keep my mind sharp at all times. Feel free to indulge though, I am not one to judge the decisions of others.” Hex opened the chest on the table, a small wind of coldness blowing out of it as he brought out a copper cup and a milk jug that he shook vigorously. “I brought my own drink though.” He poured out a frothy mixture into his cup, topping it with a couple mint leaves. “They call it ayran, or doogh and all other manner of things. It’s a herder’s drink. Yoghurt mixed with cold water, quite a treat on a hot day. You’re free to try some.” He said reaching in again and setting out two more Hex-sized copper cups next to the jug. Folding out a charcoal grill from the chest, and bringing out packets of kindling. “Now how do you like your steak?”
"... Hm. I'm sure I'll like your meat, however you make it. Surprise me." Kalani said, taking a sip of the offered drink. It went down a little rough compared to the ambrosia, but she found she didn't mind. Hex had been in the room for less than 2 minutes and she was already weak in the knees. "Among other things, ambrosia only gets you drunk if you let it."
If Hex had noticed Kalani’s obvious attempts at flirting, he didn’t react in any way other than standing a bit more awkwardly as he lit the fire. “Medium rare it is.” Hex took a gulp from his own mug, leaving behind a milk mustache on him. “I won’t drink all the same if it’s alright with you.”
“Excuse me.” The voices of three thousand witches spoke in unison, as the great Su’ule. “I can sense something ominous on the horizon.”
“We must get ready to take action, for whatever it is.”
“Chern, in particular is at worst risk for whatever this is.”
“Gods. It would be wise to prepare for the worst.”
Hex reached into his sack and pulled out a thin branch of cedar wood giving it to Su’ule’s dark manifestation. “I was told by the salesman that witches like to use objects to focus their magickal abilities. I don’t really know nuthin’ ‘bout magic but he said this wand is the most magickal wand that he had.” Hex set another steak on the grill. “Also, what’s a Chern?”
Kalani smiled at the familiar voice. "Yes, Su'ule, but the others haven't arrived yet. So enjoy the ambrosia... and apparently steak."
“Can’t have a meeting without steak. That’s just a nobrainer.” Hex said as if this was the most self-evident thing possible. Kalani giggled.
In a bright green flash Graw appeared, holding a book in his hand. He calmly went to the closest chair and sat down. ”I am glad... to talk to... all of you... after 500 years...A lot seems to.... have happened...”
“Oh, you’re the one that do the history things.” Hex said, somewhat excitedly pulling out a stack of papers from his sack. “There’s a lot of history and stories out on the plains. Stories that most them intellectuals don’t care ‘bout. So here’s all the songs I’ve written down. Some of this tunes from others, others is tunes made by me. The first ‘un there is something I’m rather proud of, I call it the Green Hills ‘o Oerth. It’s about the migration to Sparrow Valley.”
Graw grabbed the notes from Hex ”Ah...Thank you...very few people... explore the... golden waste...this will... be a great addition... to the library
At that moment, Avestra swept in, perching on a chair beside Hex.
"I hope I'm not late," she said, tilting her head as she saw the grill by the table. "I don't suppose you do raw steak?" she asked the cowherd.
Hex laughed. “Thought you’d be the type to ask for it raw.” He set aside a steak on a plate. Did you want… Any seasoning with that?”
"As is will be fine," the bird goddess said with a grateful look, fluttering down to perch beside the plate, before tearing into the steak with her beak. She thrust her head up, letting the juicy chunks of raw meat slide down her throat.
“Oh, I did get you something. I know you ain’t a fan of, uh, society, or civilization. I’m not at the worst of times to be honest. But I got this recreation of one of ‘em cave paintings. Dis should be depicting some early humans hunting some sort of big… Bear… Bear that ain’t a bear. Uh, I think the salesman said it was some kind of sloth. But… I ain’t never seen no sloth like that.” He said passing a painted cowhide.
"Ah, the giant sloths," Avestra said, sighing. "I do miss them. There are a few on Throwback Island, but it's not the same." She gulped down the last of her raw steak, before fluttering back to her chair-perch. "Anyway, thank you. My servant Kismet will appreciate this, he has an eye for art."Hate me if you want. But that's your issue to fix, not mine.
Primal ego vos, estis ex nihilo.
When Gods Go To War comes out March 8th
Discord: HalfTangible
Extended Sig
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2021-10-26, 03:16 AM (ISO 8601)
- Join Date
- Apr 2017
- Gender
Re: Pan-aeons: a God Game
Somewhere east of the Bastion
There was a massive man, a giant over ten feet tall, that hoisted upon himself a yoke made for two oxen. The carriage he carried trundled on, it had been going on by it’s lonesome for quite some time, but there came a great herd led by two great elephants. “Look out the window. It’s help.” The giant said curtly.
“Help? Us Cliffords aren’t a popular lot. Even a normal ranch hand might take a pot shot at me, you know.” Said a man, a human with a well oiled mustache and a dapper grey suit.
“They don’t look normal to me, Eugene. I don’t know many ranch hands that can afford owning their own pachyderm.” Said a woman across from the man, a woman with curled blonde hair, and a white dress.
“I know even more rich men who would be willing to shoot a Clifford!”
“They got cows, we need an ox. Hail them already.”
The woman didn’t wait for confirmation from the man across her to open the carriage, frantically waving her white handkerchief in the air. “Misters! Misters! We need your help!”
Chad sat atop one of these elephants, and was the first to spot the woman's distress signal.
"Hex, look," he said to his riding companion. "A carriage being pulled by a Sugradi. Are they still known as Sugradi in this age?"
"It's a bit old fashioned, but no one will look at you weird if you do so." Hex answered, leading his herd along the carriage that stopped as the Sugradi stretched his giant thews.
"I am ever so grateful that you stopped, misters. You see we are in a pinch of tro-"
"But we are armed!" The man shouted from in his carriage. Holding a large blunderbuss across his lap.
"Oh, Eugene! Don't be so discourteous. It is as my father says, a well placed sweet wine will often get you farther than whiskey."
"And do you know what my father told me, Penelope? The old Mountain Confederacy didn't get where it was without showing its strength!"
The giant carrying the carriage snorted before spitting in the grass. "Two ox! Strongest you have! We got enough money to pay for 'em!"
Hex let out a whistle and two mightily muscled beasts broke off the herd, and took their place at the front. "No need to pay mister! The only thing I ask is that if anyone asks where you got 'em. Tell 'em ole Hextariot gave 'em to you!"
"Hextariot? You mean Hecktarot, the old youngin's tale? You have a funny sense of humour, longhorn." The giant said stretching into the back of the driver's seat.
"You may take a seat in our carriage, mister." She said to Chad. Hex obviously not being able to fit. "It is the least we can do for giving us such beasts for free." Penelope said with the best curtsy she could give in the carriage.
Chad quelled his reflexive urge to turn down the nicety, and doffed his hat.
"You're too kind ma'am," he said, dismounting from the lofty elephant with a hefty thud. He helped to strap in the two ox and climbed aboard.
"My word, I thought you were just a fellow who painted himself green. That was something scouts did in Texarkana, you must understand. But you're made of metal!"
The mustachioed man had a look of iron before he set his dhurj underneath his seat. "It's not polite to ask men what their skin's made of Penelope!" The man took off a glove, and extended his hand towards Chad. "Eugene Clifford, head of the Suzwell Cliffords. Closest thing this area has to politicians, though us Cliffords prefer to be called businessmen."
Penelope extended her hand daintily as well. "Penelope Johnson, daughter to Harland Johnson, head of the Texarkana Johnsons. My family prefers the term politician though the terms can be often interchanged here in the Confederacy."
The bronze man shook each hand as it was offered, his metal palm warmed by the sun.
"Chad Atlas. It's a pleasure to make the acquaintance of such fine folk. I'm not from here so these names are all new to me. What brings you and your friend out on the road?" Chad half indicated, half waved to the giant.
“Oh, a foreigner. We don't get a whole lot of those types out here even down in Texarkana. While I do love my home, we are not exactly an attractive area. What with the politics these days." Penelope said
"These days? Ah, typical Texarkanan guff! There's never been a damn time in history that we aint been dogged by our neighbors! The Old Mountain Confederacy wanted to own us, the Syndicates wanted to convert us, and the Horizon Tribe? Well we ain't nothing but a trading colony to them. Willing to take our money but never to lend a hand! Speakin' of which" The man opened a compartment and brought out a cigar, lighting his own before offering an unlit one to Chad. "Steppe 'Baccer. Some idiot bought it for me trying to worm his way into my pocket, but I didn't become head of a clan by wasting gifts, I can tell you that."
"And our neighbors is what brings us here without an ox or guard in sight. I had come out here to learn the ropes of leadership and diplomacy as many of the Johnsons had before me, and while I heard stories, I had not known the dreadful work of those Russians."
"We've never had worse company than those Northern Russians! Why the only thing they want to do is eat us!"
"It was an absolutely dreadful work, mister Atlas! I know it will sound quite unbelievable, but it was a city made of flesh and bone! The ground round it too! I can scarcely describe it, it was hard getting your head around even when you seen it." She dabbed at her eyes before opening another compartment and taking out a fine glass and taking a shot of whiskey straight. "And the sounds. Oh, Great Mother Oerth, it was like the ground itself was some vicious beast."
Penleope dabbed at her eyes as Eugene continued. "We sent some brave men, bravest men I've ever saw! I'll have to make arrangements to pay their families handsomely! Out there on that ground to try and contain it. Scorch the thing out. But... “ He stopped, taking a shot himself before continuing. “It grew arms as big as a fort and fought back! I have only been truly afraid three times in my life, but I have never been filled with a dread stronger than that! It was a dread so strong that you could feel it. Like you physically had to fight against it to move! Took our oxen, and only Sky knows how many manner of good men. If it weren’t for Colin up there taking the reins we’d be surely dead. I owe that man more than a few life debts.”He knocked back another shot. “So… Please forgive my nerves when I met you.”
Chad watched with a bit more than his usual dull eyed intensity.
"Perfectly understandable," he said. "Hex and I saw an expired flesh golem, sounds like a comparable machination. Hopefully its some encouragement to you that they can expire."
"It sparks some hope in my chest, Mister Atlas. Though not much" Eugene poured a shot in front of Chad, gesturing for him to drink. "The world's gone to ****. Not that it was ever great mind you, I am not that dumb. But now when only a hundred people would have died, a thousand do. A damn leviathan is swallowing up towns! A thief is running around with an godly artefact, and some petty dictator took over Morganda, and he's a ****ing immortal. Damn immortals ought to be barred from politics! But here's to another century of idiot bastards running things!"
Chad paused with the shot glass in his hand.
"The whole of Morganada?" he asked.
"Not quite, though that bastard Robert is working on it. Uh, Penelope you're better with that half of the world."
"He's taken the entire western half of the continent. Surrounding islands and all, and is trying to take more. That Robert is a nasty brute or so I've been told. Over there it seems the clans hate each other more than they hate those oppressing 'em. We used to be like that back in the day, so I guess we all have our growing pains."
Throwing back his shot, Chad squinted at Penelope.
"A valuable lesson, yes. Do you know anything else about this Robert? Forgive my probing, but you could say I have stakeholdings in the Chadarchy. Haven't been back in a while though so I'm behind on the news."
"The Chadarchy? I've never heard of such a place before. A local name perhaps? A small island? I thought that I knew my geography quite well."
"Robert's some celestial bastard. A bastard race made by that bastard god, Petarus who cursed us without rain! More foreigners trying to ruin our land! They're some such metaphysical nonsense of soul and body combination. The only thing that's really important is that they don't age, they're better than us, and they're trying to take our jobs!"
"Oh, behave Eugene. I'm sure there's some good celestials out there."
"Yeah, and 9/10 of 'em are bad! And I ain't willing to wait for the tenth!"
"He tricked people into war, turned the land into a military junta, and has been running propaganda campaigns ever since. Don't be tricked though, he's more concerned with profits then he is human life."
"He does shame to the title of businessman is what he does! You'd think that a man that ruled for centuries wouldn't be so short-sighted! He just wants to take from the land and people! Enrich the land and people, you enrich yourself! That's what us Confederates have been living by for centuries!"
Feeling the conversation steering uncomfortably close to the topic of his own prolonged existence, Chad changed the subject. He'd have to ask Hex what he knew about this Robert later.
"And what's you plan now?" he asked. "Those are admirable words to live by, don't mistake my meaning, but it sounds to me like your way of life is being challenged."
Eugene knocked back another shot. "Well, there's not much we can do. We are not strong enough to fight, and the enemy is not interested in diplomacy. What we need is foreign help! But The Steppe is never willing to help, and the Greenlanders are just as likely to conquer us after they take down the Lankans! For now, we count the dead, we regroup, we shore up what we have, quarantine the area, and call a meeting of the clans. Until then, we keep on keeping on, fund the militias, train the soldiers."
"I fear we may have to finally call upon the Greenlanders, Eugene. Better those who would own us than those who would eat us."
Eugene nodded solemnly. "We suffer greatly, but we have suffered before. We shall persevere even if we become reduced for what else is there to do?"
Up on his elephant, riding alongside Eugene and Penelope's carriage with a loping gait, Hex met Chad's eye. Are you hearing this, those eyes seemed to ask.
Hex gave a short nod to Chad, already having a somewhat similar conversation with the giant driver in the front. Though his considerably terser and shorter. "You look a bit spooked, partner." He said, oiling his dhurj. A certain tenseness to his hands. "Something said or you ain't a fan of the smoke?" Hex said, mainly to give Chad an out from the carriage as Eugene blew out a long stream of smoke from his cigar.
"My lungs are rather delicate. They lack what some might call an iron constitution." Chad smirked dryly. "But no, fine folk here. It's their tidings I don't enjoy."
Eugene scooted closer to the window but otherwise didn't do anything... Penelope sat across from him at that window, bringing out cigarettes from her blouse."So... You planning on... Doing anything 'bout it? I just want you to know that... You have my blessings if you do. You've more than paid off your debt, partner."
Chad looked ahead to the horizon.
"It's not my place to get involved," he said, in a tone that ended the conversation.
---
Whether Chad meant what he said at the time is uncertain, even to himself. His dogma of non-interference in matters that didn't concern him or his business was deeply rooted, more so than the tree of woe that had tormented him these two ages past.
And yet, just as his own bronze physique had been nuanced by the soft greens of oxidising copper, so too had his worldview been washed out somewhat by recent events. This culminated that night as he slept beside the campfire with Hex, when a dream came upon his exposed psyche.
I am walking through fog, he thought in his dream. Not a fog, a sandstorm. I know this place from early in my life, the site of my greatest work - the self perpetuating wind farm of the Kanto Desert. I'd heard little of it since my return to society. There's a shameful part of me that's afraid to know.
I've had this dream before. I walk until I find the ruin of a great wind turbine, and the further I walk the more dilapidated they grow. Eventually I'm just walking, seeing nothing but empty sand, until Hex rouses me at dawn. This dream now is much the same, until...
A new sight in the sandstorm. A new wind turbine, small enough to miss in the malaise of flying dust. In the half-logic of dreams, its true nature, and furthermore the nature of the dream, dawn on me.
"What have I done..."
---
Chad Atlas is gone when Hex awakes the next morning. He's left most of what the god gave him behind, including the pachyderm mount. Only a saddlebag and the clothes he'd worn to sleep have gone with him.
Spoiler: Help!Chad helps Chern influence all mortals
+2 Determination, to make mortals who are afflicted by the Cherning learn and grow from their sadness. Those who have committed wrongs may alleviate their sadness by going out of their way to make reparations. For his own part, Chad does this by journeying to the Eternal Sandstorm, to destroy his abominable "great work" once and for allI prefer a keg of beer!
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2021-10-26, 07:46 AM (ISO 8601)
- Join Date
- Jul 2020
- Location
- Florida
- Gender
Re: Pan-aeons: a God Game
The ground beneath Darkins and Chern shudders. The temperature turns chilly. Far away in distant Frostreach, the black pit bubbles and shifts.
It is safe to say Melwas is somewhat displeased.
Spoiler: Hinder for Chern-8 Stasis: The laws of reality tighten around Chern and constrain his grief to the local region. The intensity of the Cherning fades severely the further one gets from the epicenter, if it isn’t snuffed out entirely.
-1 Sorcery: Whatever exempted Darkins from the Cherning is dispelled. If the Cherning succeeds, then Darkins will suffer with the rest of mortal-kind. It's only fair.
-1 Alchemy: It will be possible to brew potions and tonics to relieve the worst effects of the Cherning. These creations will not affect the followers of gods who assisted the Cherning.
-2 Undying, -1 Embalming, -1 Anatomy: Intelligent undead are not affected by the Cherning. Further, as punishment for his unwitting attempt to torture the world’s populace, Melwas will spite churn by hijacking his resurrection. If the action fails (and only if it fails), Melwas will repair the body of the athe girl as intended, but she will instead be animated as an intelligent undead creature - her soul will be shunted into the passing.
This creature is first possessed by Melwas, who uses it as a vessel to communicate his displeasure. He derides Chern’s “simpering ineptitude” and calls him “a pathetic, mewling fool”, among other unflattering descriptors.
His parting words are advice: “find the means to comport yourself, or build a cage that can’t be broken by any random vagrant who passes by.”
Once this is done, Melwas leaves the undead girl to decide her own fate. She has very little in common with her once-living counterpart, being reserved, somber, and impatient of the shortcomings of others – particularly when many others are made to bear the consequences.
She will name herself Eriopis if a better one is not provided, or if others insist on naming her after the dead girl. Eriopis will accompany Darkins on any other journeys he might make. If he would prefer not to deal with her, she will travel to Kalth in search of purpose and peace.
If not welcome in Kalth, she will return home and linger there restlessly, bringing great discomfort to her family and their neighbors.
Last edited by Red Lenses; 2021-10-26 at 04:06 PM.
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2021-10-26, 03:10 PM (ISO 8601)
- Join Date
- Nov 2017
- Gender
Re: Pan-aeons: a God Game
[QUOTE=Xenopax;24650116]
The Awakening of Russ
Regarding the Attempt by the Failed God Chern to bring the world to feel what he felt, The Devouring of the Dead God Alatradiel and their consequences
It was known that in the Fifth Age, Russ had failed to awake. For some this was seen as a relief, for some this was seen as a nightmarish occurance, as their protector (no matter what form that protection took place) had disappeared. The different worshippers of Russ would change their devotions. Some would increase their placation of him, while others began to make peaceful alliances with neighbors to prepare for if he never came back. This all changed when Chern, began sending visions to those who worshipped Russ.
The visions sent didn't matter as much as the false emotion dredged up in many. Some peasant girl had been chopped up, few cared. The faceless who had settled down in Al-Estria found it regrettable and did mourn a bit, but most Lankans cared little for what was basically meat. But for some reason...they felt sorrow? It was an alien emotion when it came to someone they didn't know. The sorrow didn't leave either. Yet rather than forcing the Lankans to figure out how to get rid of it, Russ would awake. People alive at the time said it was like a hand in their brain/s/, shielding them against what could have spelled Lanka's fall through an array of suicides. In the center of the city in Russ's great tower, light spilled far enough as to be seen in the Golden Wastes as Russ banished the influence of Chern from all that his light touched. For once, the light of Russ was restorative rather than mutative1.
At approximately the same time according to all availible sources, a group of God-Eaters2 had found the body of the Dead Fox-Goddess. They had proceeded to consume her but dedicated her brain to Russ3. It is unknown which was the cause of the awakening, whether the allure of a divine feast brought back the Cannibal God or whether it was taken as payment for saving them.
1Later, this would be put down to the feeding of what little remained of the Fox Goddesses soul to Russ.
2A sect of Nameless that devour divine touched creatures in hope of gaining their powers.
3Where the soul is held normally in Russian teachings.
Spoiler
First! Hindering Chern
+2 Science, +1 Change: The sorrow that had originally been induced is displanted and replaced with an intense curiosity and drive to become powerful enough to do what Chern did.
Second! Scry Action to find and devour Alatradiel. Ran it past zilla and it's golden.
Costs 12 AP, secondary action.
Last edited by Xenopax; 2021-10-26 at 03:19 PM.
Omnissiah grant me the strength to change what I can,
the patience to accept what I cannot,
and CHAINFISTS FOR HANDS. Amen.
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Magic the Gathering (In the Playground)
Games that I am inSpoiler: Games i am GMing
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2021-10-26, 03:13 PM (ISO 8601)
- Join Date
- Nov 2017
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Re: Pan-aeons: a God Game
Also posting a Collab!
Vesuvius - Ruined Burgh
Town Square
Although the Surveyor was nominally mute to such sensations, he could distinctly feel the warmth of Vesuvius. Heat radiated from the black soil and clung to the air, smothering those that dared to live here. This was anathema to Great Melwas, but to Ulren Redpoint, it was a minor discomfort.
Not that it made him any more thrilled to be here. He cut a quick and deliberate path through the town’s streets. The buildings were stonework, crowded tightly and largely abandoned, save for a sparse few souls wandering aimlessly. Ulren understood the inhabitants were descendants of freed slaves.
Not the choice of company he would have considered ideal. But to correct certain grievances, ideal company had to be forgone.
He arrived in the musty town square. There were more people sluggishly going about their day here. Ulren steeled himself, adjusting his cravat and delicately tucking a strand of errant hair behind one ear. He selected a street-peddler at random and approached.
“Pardon me, good sir,” said Ulren, smiling in a perfectly diplomatic manner, “I’m looking for a gentleman by the name of Isan…?”
There were eyes upon the Stranger. Eyes of distrust, and not necessarily two to a head. The rate of mutation was far lower here than it was in Lanka but there were still some faceless that weren’t constrained to regular fleshy forms and two eyes. Yet it wasn’t hostile just...suspicious. The Free People were still recovering from their enslavement to the Tyrant and anyone who hadn’t gone through what they had were regarded as possible enemies.
The Surveyor would be pointed at a building in the distance, a tower that had been refurbished. Even from here, Its aura made it clear who it belonged to. The touch of russ was on it, much like it was on all souls on the island.
He had been warned of the peculiarity of appearances these people would exhibit, but that was an altogether different experience than witnessing it firsthand. Ulren cleared his throat awkwardly at this silent reception and nodded politely to the peddler. “Of course. Thank you, sir...”
The Surveyor turned quickly on his heel to the tower. He could still feel the eyes on him, though reasoned he was quite above their opinions. Most of them, anyway.
Arriving at the base of the tower, he gently rapped on the door - three precise knocks, as was prescribed by the Greater Manual of Etiquette.
Isan looked like a normal man. Brown eyes, a slightly broken nose and black hair were the first things seen when he opened the door. **”I haven’t seen you around before outlander. Come in if you wish to speak to the People,”** It was the only reason anyone ever came around from outside.
The inside was rather well adorned, with handmade tables and chairs. Upon the center of it was a tea kettle and a few sweet snacks. Isan would sit across on one of the chairs, clearly trusting that this man wouldn’t murder him...or couldn’t. “So what did you need?”
Ulren seated himself only after his host, crossing his legs. “I come as a representative of Great Melwas, the Lord Unchanging.”
“My liege has found himself in the rare position of requiring some assistance. His assessment of the other divinities - and their servants - has found individuals who are, by and large, unwilling to ‘rock the boat’, so to speak. Except, of course, in the case of your estimable self and the one-called Ka’al Russ. But I rather think I am getting ahead of myself. Are you at all familiar with Su’Speakers, good sir?”
”I know a little of them. Not much but a little. Why do you ask?” Isan would pour out two cups of tea, one for him and one for himself. He’d push one to the representative, while he sipped on one himself. **”The great liberator does not guide our will. He allows us to do what we wish. If we ally with you and your god for whatever you have planned, it is not our god imposing his will on us, nor can we promise he will smile upon this effort,” Russ kept a hands off policy on his followers, something the Free people appreciated more than any other of his followers.
“I see. Then I suppose I shall leave him out of it, yes?” Ulren raised an eyebrow at his host, then leaned forward to take his cup. “I have been in contact with a cabal of Su’Speakers who have been wrongfully imprisoned in that idyllic state of Sanctuary. Their only crime, so far as has been relayed to them, is that of dedication to their craft; ascendance to full mastery.”
The Surveyor could not help but make a face. “I find such reasoning to be obscene, and so have resolved to see them released. It is possible that Great Melwas could see to it himself, but uncertain. The Lord Unchanging prefers not to deal in uncertainties, and so we come to you.”
He indicated Isan with a gesture, then took a sip of tea.
The madness of Russ took form in many ways. For most it was through the warping of flesh or their minds to genius, but the Free People got a lesser version. A normal civilisation would have recovered from the scars of the Tyrant by now, but the Free People were yet Zealots. All it took was a mention of another being forced into slavery or being held against their will for no sin of their own to raise a firebrand mob.
“You have our aid then. There is no question to it,” His voice took a different tone at the sheer mention of it, anger exuding from his very soul. “We will offer those in sanctuary one chance to release them, and if not, we will burn their lands to the ground, like the Liberator did in times of Yore. You have your alliance. Give us the word and every fighting arm and spell caster of the free people are yours,”
At the mention of burning sanctuary, Ulren nearly choked on his beverage. He put his cup down and coughed delicately into his wrist. “I doubt it should come to such violence, a simple portal empowered by myself and our divinities, coupled with a ritual from the other side...”
He trailed off, as he saw in Isan’s expression that this hewed close to the heart of both him and his people. The Surveyor chastised himself for being surprised. These were the servants of Russ, after all.
“You mentioned an offer?” he said, clearing his throat and opting for a different lead, “You believe they might respond well to a simple request for amnesty?”
“Perhaps. It would be rude of us to force ourselves through whatever is keeping them inside, without at least asking their captors to free them. Perhaps they’ll see reason. If not, we will break their barrier and release them,” Isan gave a simple shrug before finishing off his tea. “Shall we draft a communication to their captors then?”
Diplomacy had not been part of the Surveyor’s consideration for a few reasons. But those considerations now paled in comparison to what consequences would await if he helped to unleash a swarm of angry rabble into the streets of Sanctuary.
“A diplomatic communication, yes,” said Ulren, gesturing. Two puffs of smoke appeared to his right, and from them emerged a floating quill and sheet of parchment. “I believe I should take the lead on that. Let’s see...”
Spoiler: Contents of Letter Sent---
The Most Serene Ecclesiarchy of Frostreach
In conjunction with
The People’s Commune of Vesuvius
Issue the Following Statement
The governments of Frostreach and Vesuvius have been in close contact with various Su’Speakers who have been unlawfully detained by the government of Sanctuary. These individuals have described being subjected to undue stress during their abduction and confinement, and express a desire to be immediately released from Sanctuary.
They have further declared a desire to be released from Sanctuary immediately. The governments of Frostreach and Vesuvius declare their unilateral support for those imprisoned.
We declare our unilateral support for the imprisoned Su’Speakers. We further condemn, in the strongest possible terms, the government of Sanctuary - as well as any other responsible parties - for their role in this abominable transgression against the sovereign autonomy of mortals and their tacit endorsement of the murderous, criminal activities of Bron.
We call on the government of Sanctuary to immediately:
Release all Su’Speakers who have been unjustly detained within Sanctuary or by its Associates.
Provide financial restitution to the aforementioned Su’Speakers.
Provide financial restitution to the abandoned families of Su’Speakers who have perished in captivity.
Return the remains of all Su’Speakers who have perished in captivity to their land of origin.
Issue a formal apology and acknowledge wrongdoing.
We have identified 64 living Su’Speakers desiring release. These Su’Speakers have further identified 22 deceased Su’Speakers who had desired, and were wrongfully denied, release.
This matter will be considered resolved upon their release.
Omnissiah grant me the strength to change what I can,
the patience to accept what I cannot,
and CHAINFISTS FOR HANDS. Amen.
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Magic the Gathering (In the Playground)
Games that I am inSpoiler: Games i am GMing
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2021-10-28, 03:17 PM (ISO 8601)
- Join Date
- Nov 2016
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- Dorset, England
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Re: Pan-aeons: a God Game
Avestra, Sparrow Valley, Axia
Avestra swept over her latest creation, admiring what with a little encouragement from Kismet, mortalkind had built. An ecological city, nestled between two inhospitable plains. But still, it was not enough. Mortals continued to pollute and exploit the outside world with reckless abandon. She would need to take further action to correct this. But first, she would protect her jewel.
Spoiler: ActionSanctify Sparrow Valley (14AP/10 DC) with:
+2 Nature: The very ground beneath Sparrow Valley will convert any kind of pollution that falls upon it into fresh fertilizer, encouraging plant growth. Furthermore, it will contribute to the defence of the city, enveloping anyone who treads upon it with bad karma or entering the city with the intention of causing harm.
+2 Birds: Avestra's Eagles will be personally responsible for overseeing the intelligence activities of the city, scouting far in every direction to report on any signs of suspicious activities. They will work with the Sicurin and treewhisperers to set up complex treewhisper networks which will feed information back to a central hub within Sparrow Valley.
+1 Sky: The Valley will have its own self-contained microclimate, unaffected by whatever greater weather trends are affecting Axia at the time.
+1 Nostalgia: Hermitage will become more common as certain Avestra followers try to return to more primitive style of worship. Some hermits will give up speech, fire and even clothing in an attempt to bring themselves closer to nature.
+1 Retribution: A secret society known as the Eaglets will gain numbers throughout the city. Should the city ever fall into enemy hands, they would fight a guerilla campaign to assassinate anyone involved in the campaign until the last man and woman among them has been slain.
+2 Faith: The faith of Avestra will reverberate throughout the entire valley, meaning that non-Owl Folk who settle there will find themselves increasingly attracted to the faith over time, while those already following the religion will become more radical in their views and practices.
Spoiler: Help!Kismet helps Chern with:
+2 Bargain -- Should Chern chose to accept this help, Kismet will offer to watch over the Athe girl and ensure she lives a full and free life. In exchange, all that he asks for is the memories which were to be purged from her are instead transformed into a transportable substance which can later be applied to any mortal at will to provide them with a memory of the event.
+2 Dreams -- Fragments of Chern's vision will occasionally return to exposed mortals in their dreams, reminding them of his inescapable sorrow.
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2021-10-30, 03:29 PM (ISO 8601)
- Join Date
- Apr 2017
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Re: Pan-aeons: a God Game
Shortly after the THE CHERNING and Chad leaving Hex
Hex had spent much of his day after Chad had left him rather solemn and contemplative in his solitude. Perhaps he was concerned for his herd as he left shortly to go to Lanka, perhaps it was the foul weather, perhaps he missed his friend more than he knew, perhaps it was the blasted city itself. Most likely it was that he had experienced the Cherning overtake him in his sleep, and mistook it for some nightmare and the images of great windmill blades tearing through people, and the effigies of carnage played in his mind throughout his day.
It had left Hex despotic, doing little in his time at Lanka other than sit on a corner and listen to others converse about their day. He heard snippets over and over again of lives eked out. Of a thousand death threats to one another, caring little for another other than to shout and spit venom at each other. Too busy, too wrapped up in their own business to ever stop or else they would be swallowed whole by this place. But this pain was alleviated somewhat when the factories left off for a time, and a gaggle of workers shared beers on the corner and ate as they waited for the carts to pick them up and take them somewhere else. One of them had brought a horn, some sort of instrument of brass that Hex had never seen, let alone heard before. It let out a dark, almost melancholy sound as the other workers hummed, snapped or clapped along in something approaching rhythm. Then a smooth, and deep voice was let out.
"Working in the organ mill." Was the line that started them off. The voice was sad, bitter even, but the type of sadness that brings hope with it, a discolored thing like his workman's jeans.
"Working just to keep my organs for today!" There was a round of noises of approval from his fellow workers
"Ten years ago, I had a bright face.
But now all that's left are scars in it's place.
Best blade there was for three years, but every knife loses it's edge!" The song told of a fall from grace starting with the loss of a pinkie from being late until more and more of the man was lost or replaced by cheap aftermarket organs. All the while, the bossman threatens them with being the next organ drone on the table. But a line of men in heavy boots marched into the street with dhurjs in hand as he played.
"And if stains could tell stories than mine would tell nothing but betrayal" The workers formed their own line in an instant. All of them taking out a contraption, some sort of dhurj with a large spike on it's butt. The men in boots took out swords and rushed the workers but the dhurjs let out their last ghostly whines as the force from the guns pushed the spike into their heart. Both sides were dead in an instant. The rest of the citizenry descending on the new corpses picking them apart like a pack of ravenous wolves.
Hex spat into a dirty gutter. "Civilization!" was all he said. Brusquely pushing the hordes of citizens out of the way, many of them into that same gutter as he parted the sea of people with his massive weight. He caught one thief by the scruff of his neck, prying open his hands for that brass instrument before throwing him through a window without care.
He held the small instrument in his hand like it would fall apart by just him looking at it. Turning it over again and again in his hand. "So many more songs you could have sung." He reached down towards the torn apart body of the musician and reached out with his godly will to know something of his life. He lived next to a... Windmill. Hex remembered something urgent, but first he wrapped the horn in a brown paper package as he turned a corner. As he did so he appeared somewhere else entirely outside of a small rundown single story house. The house of the musician's wife. He could see the stove on from the window and knocked on the door. Leaving the package on the doorstep with a note. "He decided what way he wanted to go."
In the ever blowing sandstorm of the Glass Crater. There was a brief moment of silence as the winds stopped. Then a crack of lightning in the distance, a roar of thunder. The quaking of earth as the giant windmills were driven across the plain and then... There came a torrential downpour across the world.
Spoiler: Help Chern
+4 Ranching, Hex, Hex, and a third Hex drive all of the moving windmills in the area. Rounding them up and crossing the plains for thirteen days and thirteen nights. Men and women of the area will for years speak of the great storms that three men braved too save us from the giant monsters of many arms. Eventually Hex reaches the ocean where he drives the windmills off a cliff into it.
+2 Cows, Cows will also be affected by THE CHERNING, making their meat worth less, produce less milk, and are more ornery, stubborn, and prone to escape from the hands of ranchers. Also the first cases of cow suicide will be recorded though rare
+1 Travel, the depression induced by THE CHERNING will occasionally produce a great wanderlust as well. Whether this be manifested moving, travel to see great sites, or running away. For some this will sate the effects of THE CHERNING on their psyche but only happens to a few.
+2 Weather, +1 Nature, For thirty days and thirty nights there will be a great morose rain across the entire world even on the Aetherian Continent or the So Called Promised Land. While this shall flood many areas and cause much destruction, in it's wake it shall renew nature across the world, causing land once tainted by man or god to be rendered capable of supporting life yet again. The pollution of both entities wiped from them.Last edited by Demonjazz; 2021-10-30 at 03:30 PM.
I prefer a keg of beer!
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2021-10-30, 10:57 PM (ISO 8601)
- Join Date
- Nov 2017
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Re: Pan-aeons: a God Game
Russ looked over his lands after waking. Tens of Tens of years of discovery and invention, entertainment and atrocities, only served to entertain the Masked God for a day. Within that time frame he drank deep of the knowledge that had been found in the time that he had gone to sleep and when he came out, he knew what his next action was. Russ would vanish from his tower and go to each of the 6 chains that held the promised land down. There he'd engrave a mark in a language long forgotten, once written by the worshippers of his Mother. Once he'd finished with that, the Changer of Paths would find his way to the tallest tower in Lanka (which was his own of course. He'd knocked down the towers of any bigger than his own before putting their souls in his lantern) and allow his power to diffuse into the chains, subverting the godly bindings that kept them there.
Spoiler: Action!
20 AP/DC 16: Influence Continent
+3 Change, +1 Mutation, +2 Flesh: The chains grow skin over them and turn to bone. The skin is covered with feathers to form three pairs of almost angellic wings to replace the chains that once bound them to the earth. The nameless regularly stalk the wings on their side of the land to make sure no one attempts to harm them and hurt the land itself, from the highest bio-baron to the lowest organ-wolf.
+2 Time: Once a Decade, the Promised Land will return to it's original spot and stay there for 10 days.
+2 Science: Soon rigs are set up on the Wings near lanka to apply controlled shocks to try and control the flying direction of the wings. However these are seen as heresy by some of the nameless that live upon them and maintain them.Omnissiah grant me the strength to change what I can,
the patience to accept what I cannot,
and CHAINFISTS FOR HANDS. Amen.
My 40k Discord Server: Join Today!
Magic the Gathering (In the Playground)
Games that I am inSpoiler: Games i am GMing
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2021-11-01, 09:02 PM (ISO 8601)
- Join Date
- Apr 2017
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Re: Pan-aeons: a God Game
A Collab between Demonjazz and Xenopax
In the neutral zone between the Clearwater Confederacy and the greater Lankan territory there was a small inn and stables to refresh your horses and water skins. It was also infrequently used as the place that diplomatic meetings were held between the realms. It was a cramped affair for both parties as the Four clan heads, some of their extended family, and a large entourage of warriors were asked to crowd into the place along with translators, and a group of magicians, and path walkers.
The air was tense as the Confederates waited for the heads of Lanka, the man in the middle of the long table was a fit man with greying hair well into his fifties and a great bushy beard, wearing black suspenders over his white clothing and a black bowler hat. Eugene Clifford took his seat next to him as the man, Harland Johnson who gave him a surly look, whispering to him. "This is a waste of time. Any peace we charter will leave us weaker."
"I have sons, Harland. Sons that are ready and eager to go to war. I had all but to arrest one of my boys so that he wouldn't join a militia. It's eager boys that die in war, and we have to try for the sake of our children!"
"Family is what this nation was founded on. And we must protect it." Said one of the other heads of the clans, a young woman in a large bonnet.
Not all the Lankan leaders joined the meeting. Many correctly presumed that the journey to the meeting spot would be fraught with danger from their fellow bio-barons. About a quarter of them had decided to take a risk and make the Journey, and most of those who had were killed on the way by their fellows, their flesh added to those of the survivors. Almost as if by providence, only four had survived the Journey, the same number as the clan heads.
The first to arrive was an older (although such things were hard to tell when it came to Lankans) Woman with stitched eyes, a stitched mouth and tattoos of evershifting scripture. She introduced herself directly into their minds as The Grand Speaker. She came with an army of Zealots, all mutilated like her.
The second to arrive was a man with tubes and piping full of a green gas going out of him. He introduced himself as Zachiarias Lahore, Lord of the Chem-Fields. Slack Eyed mutants with a similar green gas and tubes had followed him as his guard.
The third to arrive was a monster, a creature that looked almost like a wolf on two legs, although that comparison was similar to that of a Dragon and a lizard. Tentacles burst through his back and limbs (which there was four of). He introduced himself as Trulish and came with an army of similar abominations.
The Last to Arrive was a man in a mask and a suit. He looked far more Normal than anyone who had entered so far, yet was given a far berth by the others. He came alone, and wouldn’t introduce himself. “It is a pleasure to meet you, leaders of the Confederation. You asked for those who speak for Lanka and here we are. What will you have of us and our people?”
Harland cleared his throat and snapped his fingers. Four burly men from the Confederate armies picked up four crates which sat next to a much larger collection of crates, presumably for the other leaders that could not come. The crates were given to the four leaders.
Harland made a grand gesture towards the others. “I know that our nation’s relationships have been… Historically fraught to say the least. So please accept these crates of our finest whiskeys as gifts. They have all come from our own personal distilleries from our clans. To symbolize that we are all unified in our message of peace today.”
“Yes, as the famous saying goes above our meeting place. ‘We may not be alike in dignity but we must remain unified in our message’. I hope some here have not forgotten that.” A woman wearing a pair of fine slacks said this pointedly to the normal looking man.
“Peace.” Eugene said simply. “We want a lasting peace between our nations.”
“I believe we both want the same thing.” The woman in the bonnet said. “For both our nations not to interfere with the affairs of the other.”
The Chem-Lord Lahore spoke next in a cold tone, one accompanied by the soft bubbling of his breathing apparatus. “What of the expenses? My drones require sustenance. What food there is smuggled in from your lands is far from enough to feed us and our armies. Anyone who refuses to raid your lands risks starving and our own workers consuming us. Even if by some chance, we agree to your terms, you will find yourself being raided by those who didn’t,”
The masked man would hold his hand up to draw attention once more, holding a bottle of the whisky in the other. “Which brings us to what we want. We want” He’d be interrupted by the Wolf-thing speaking with a loud clack of it's jaws. “Food. Meat and bones,”. The masked man would look up at him with disdain clear. “Yes. Food. Although vegetables would be quite nice as well. Allowing your clans to sell us food and water would go a long way toward peace. As I’m sure you all know, there’s nothin’ worse than being hungry,” The man would pop open the whiskey tab and take a sip. There was a hint of an accent to his voice, one that seemed almost like he was from the confederacy.
Eugene nodded along with the talk of hunger though many of the others looked unamused. He was the first to speak on the matter. “My grandfather told me of some of the first embargoes. They came from a time of starving for both our nations. First it was just the Cliffords but when the raids and the fleshcrafted creations came, it divided our nations even more. We were both scared, we both acted in desperation, but perhaps we shall make up for the sins of our fathers.”
“We can extend trade.” Harland said. “But we will not be able to trade when your creations of flesh go to attack our farmers and ranchers. The City of Flesh needs to be halted, and your rogue creations must be stopped before they reach our borders if you hope to gain access to our food.”
“For the good of our people and yours.” The woman in slacks said. “The Townsends of East Orleano shall personally send a cattle drive when the City of Flesh is stopped.”
“The Cliffords of Suzwell can send a shipment of apples if you can bring a shipment of weapons in return.”
“And the Johnsons of Texarkana, along with the Cooksons of New Tumera” Harland said with a nod from the woman in the bonnet “Have both agreed to open trade if these first caravans are returned to us unharmed.”
The lankan delegation would discuss telepathically, a faint buzzing in the ears of those present the only hint of what was going on. After about 3 minutes (An eternity in the mind), The Masked Man would reply to their proposals. “We agree to all of the above with the following stipulations. Your caravans must come by routes we agree upon and stay in places we direct them to if they wish to be absolutely safe. We cannot be held responsible if they stray to the many temptations of Lanka and away from safety. What we can assure is that we will make sure they don’t while under our eyes. In addition, while we cannot destroy the city of flesh, we can stop it. If you’re willing to provide a tithe of water and soldiers willing to man the walls alongside our own, we will shift the city to grow a wall around it, blockading our wastelands from your own croplands while functioning as a neutral meeting point. Of course, this will only happen after we purge the old rulers,”
While the clan leaders seemed unfazed by what was going on. Their entourage seemed rather concerned with the three minutes of buzzing silence. Nervously shifting positions in their clanking armour, and coughing awkwardly. It seemed there was a great sigh of relief let out from them when the Lankans finally went back to talking. The clan heads nodded along as they went to have their own counsel. Talking amongst themselves for a considerably longer ten minutes before Harland came forward. “We can agree to all the terms of your contract granted that they are reasonably maintained. On the stipulation that we not front more than 65% of the cost for the walls constructed.”
“Splendid. I believe we have an accord then. Write it however you’d like, and we’ll sign however you prefer,” A stable source of food meant that the Bio-Barons here would be allowed to amass far bigger armies than they would normally. Assuming they weren’t murdered when they came back home, the very power balance of Lanka would shift, merely with a few crates of apples and a couple head of cows.
The Clan heads went through a series of hand shakes or… Well at least one person would have a hand in the matter. “I cannot say if we will ever have true peace and kindness between our peoples. But I at least hope we may have stability between our nations. I know your people do not share our morals, but the mothers and fathers of our nation shall rest easier, I hope, after this is done.”I prefer a keg of beer!
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2021-11-08, 02:54 AM (ISO 8601)
- Join Date
- Apr 2017
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Re: Pan-aeons: a God Game
In an indeterminate moment of time outside a Lankan bar
Lankan workers were given exactly one day off a week, sometimes it was only half a day, but it meant that the average Lankan worker treasured their free time, and as such would try to get the most out of it. This could be seen at any bar on that singular day off which wafted with thick smoke and bottles of whiskey being drunk like pitchers of ale, other drug dealers selling drugs that other countries had only thought up in dreams, and occasionally dreams themselves.
Hex had not gone into any of the bars, but had chatted rather sullenly with other workers outside, occasionally watching inside through the safety glass windows of the bars, men being thrown into them and bouncing off back into the floor. He saw a lanky fellow in a long coat and a cowman’s hat that seemed to be attracting quite a bit of attention at his table as he played hands of tarot. He had been raking in money, flashing a smile full of precious metal all the while as he did so. After about ten minutes of this though, it was only inevitable in a Lankan bar that someone with killing intent was sure to come out. There was the wail of a dhurj from underneath the table and with amazing speed the man in a long coat, flipped backwards out of his metal chair, the bullet ricocheting off the chair into the leg of another man at the table. That man flipped the table at the other man, and soon the entire bar was into a fight.
The man in a long coat with unnatural speed and strength pushed the crowd out of his way, vaulting through the door and taking off down an alley, the clinking of coin could be heard clearly before he vanished.
As Hex got up from his seat, he appeared somewhere else, his massive girth blocking the man as he ran directly into him. When he looked up at the 20 foot tall man somehow fitting into this alley, he immediately opened his coat. “Well, I’ve had a longer run than most in this city.” He must not have been any older than 19. “Make it quick, please!” He was baring his chest to Hex, indicating that he wanted to be stabbed in the heart.
“I ain’t here to take your damn life!”
The man looked up the buildings and tried to get up and jump towards a ledge in the wall, he was caught mid jump by Hex. “If you’re taking my money then I’ve got my own pliers for my teeth! We don’t need to be violent with that!”
“I don’t want your damn money neither!”
The man looked around nervously, his ears twitching as he tried to listen in on any oncoming sounds. “Well… What do you want then?” He said looking up to Hex who was holding him by the scruff of his coat.
“Your name would be a good start.”
“Kilgore.”
“That ain’t a name!”
“Oh, it is in Lanka! You see, my dad walked outside and named me after the first thing he saw!” His grin was so wide, it felt almost naive in such an awful land.
“That’s… Disturbing.” Hex said, setting the man back down on the ground.
“You should have heard my brother’s name, Public Fornication!” Kilgore let out a laugh at seeing Hex’s dismayed reaction. These were both rather common jokes in Lanka, and few ever got to see a tourist’s reaction to them.
He didn’t get to see it for much longer, a rather sullen Hex realizing the trick smacked him across the back with his massive mitt that sent him reeling into a wall. “I ain’t got time to be played for the fool!”
The man caught himself against the wall, and sprung himself backwards from it. “A fool! A fool! That’s what you’re after!” A look of sudden realization came across his face.
“I ain’t in need of no-”
“No, no! Not a literal fool. You play tarot?” He sprung a card from his sleeve, it looked a very expensive card, small gems encrusting it’s back forming constellations. “You see, The Fool is the most powerful card in tarot because it’s an excuse. It’s a way in the rules not to play by them! When your hand is bad, you play The Fool! You need someone like me for a job that can take a fall!”
“You’re awfully happy for someone that just said they’re gonna be a fall guy.”
“I’m a professional Fool!” He turned his card, revealing his face on the depiction of The Fool. “The trick is knowing when to fall, and how to get back up.”
‘
“I don’t think I need a fool, but I could go for an excuse.”
“This city is built on excuses!” He said, spreading his arms wide.
“Well, partner. How ‘bout we make a deal of sorts. You share your mind with someone, and in exchange you gain the ability to take anything from anybody.”
“What’s the catch?”
“You’ve gotta give back something of equal value to what you’ve taken. But you can give anything someone has given you.”
Kilgore weighed this up. “A strange con, cowman. A strange con indeed. But we all value different things, even things of equal value may be greater in another’s hands. How shall the mind fare in mine?"
"Over the course of five years your minds will slowly become one. Blending each other's personalities. But he'll be a conman like you."
"One unlikely to be of the same morals judging from your own attitudes but I stand on the precipice. Shall you be the magician or the high priestess?” He said bringing out both cards. “Perhaps both?"
Hex looked unamused. “That some kind of answer or are you talking to yourself?”
“Perhaps both. The answer is yes, bullman!”
“This is gonna hurt.”
“What?” Before Kilgore could react he was punched in the gut, having the wind knocked out of him and falling to the ground.
When Kilgore woke, it was too the formaldehyde smell of Lankan piss, someone relieving themselves onto his coat. He quickly rolled out of the way and took a combative stance. As he did so, the smooth, rambling drawl of a Texarkanan distiller ran through his head. “Careful there, you can’t take a life without giving in return.” The drunkard looked confused and bleary at what he thought was a pile of trash. “Though perhaps this one’s life isn’t worth much. But it looks like he’d agree to anything. How about we get an early start, partner?”
Kilgore brought out a tarot card from his sleeve. “You ever hear of astrology?” The stars on the back of his card shimmered. “I can tell you, your future. Though it can be hard to read. That is if you’re… WIlling to pay.”
“I ain’t got money, you swine!”
“I accept… Alternative forms of payment.”
Spoiler: Action
18 AP/14 DC.Create the +2 Equivalent Exchange Demigod, Novel Experience
Novel Experience is a spirit or soul that exists with the power of Equivalent Exchange. He can take anything, physical, metaphysical, spiritual, or even metaphorical given that he can give something equal in return. What is given does not need to be given right away, neither does what is taken need to be taken right away. But all dues must be collected unless one or more of the parties die from outside sources (Though some debts may be paid after death in the specific instance of a soul being bet). The concept of value is dictated by the standards of whatever society he is in, both the host and Novel have an innate knowledge of this value to ensure equality. This power is constant and impossible to break at any time if an action would be taken that would violate these powers, the host’s body would simply freeze up in a best attempt to stop these actions until they take an action which would not violate it. This power only extends to beings that are capable of understanding the concept of this power, though they need not be in a state in which they are capable of doing so, or necessarily aware of its existence.
+4 Ranching, These powers are more just to the hard working, and industrious rancher. The power can only be invoked when both parties are in a state in which they understand the terms of the contract and its implications. In exchange ranchers feel obligated to give the host of Novel Experience lodging in wherever their animals are kept, access to the water of the animals, and whatever leftover parts from the animals they were going to throw away
+2 Cows, The one other innate ability given to their hosts is mastery over cows, in exchange they must always treat cows with kindness, regardless of the circumstance.
+1 Travel, Novel and their host is protected during periods of long travel. they may be badly hurt but not killed by anything during these times. They may die from injuries inflicted when they finally stop travelling or after a year. Whichever happens first.
Spoiler: Hinder Russ
-2 Weather, the wings underneath the Aether Continent will always be wracked with galeforce winds at all times, these winds will be blowing opposite directions from each other to ensure they will not be taken advantage of to aid in travel with the wings
-1 Nature, great vines that grow with preternatural speed grow now on the bottom of the continent. They quickly overtake any structure that is placed there, and even if burned down to the roots, they shall come back in a manner of days.Last edited by Demonjazz; 2021-11-09 at 03:06 PM.
I prefer a keg of beer!
-
2021-11-09, 10:55 AM (ISO 8601)
- Join Date
- Aug 2010
- Location
- The Primus Imperium
- Gender
Re: Pan-aeons: a God Game
[Godforsaken]
Loveboat -The Easy Going
Eventually, the other gods arrived at the moot, and Kalani sat at the table, her expression grim as she raked her eyes over the group.
Ka’al Russ was markedly absent from the proceedings. Instead, a masked man would bow and introduce himself to the gods present, saying that he’d speak for his God on any matters that required it, as Russ was indisposed elsewhere.
"Thank you for coming. Let's cut to the chase." Kalani said, her voice soft but loud enough to carry. "Though we slew the Tyrant in the previous age, his city yet exists. It is a place our power cannot directly touch. Moreover, it is a place of slavery and misery; our faithful are stolen from their homes and forced to abandon worship. Those who refuse to reject us are tortured or worked to death. Most are enslaved. Humans, Beastfolk, even my own Fae have been taken by the city."
"This is neither acceptable nor tenable. We cannot allow this suffering to continue, nor the outright blasphemy on display." Her eyes narrowed. "The only problem is that prophecy prevents us from directly bringing the city down."
Chrysogonus appeared bored by the question - so much as a dreg could look anything, that is. The terrible ills that spilled from the Tyrant’s city must not have reached Frostreach’s glacial walls. “Great Melwas was under the impression this matter was to be handled by the one called Swiftpaw. Is this no longer the case? That creature goes with his blessing. He alone seems to exhibit the cunning and capability to undo that place. What else is there to be done?”
"It's not just the city that worries me, but the people it's going to scatter. How long have these people lived believing in human supremacy, and the uselessness of the gods?" Kalani pointed out. "They're not going to abandon their ways of thinking just because Titanrise no longer exists. And if we do nothing, how much more damage will they cause? If anything, the fact that they were ended by a mortal is only going to reinforce their idea that the gods are to be rejected."
Hex had sat down and brought out a small notepad and pencil as he sat down for the meeting. “Speaking of this Swiftpaw character… We are going to yunno… Get rid of his artifact, right? He’s served his purpose now, and I see no reason why we ought to allow some vagrant criminal to have this power unattended.”
“Mortal autonomy should be encouraged where possible,” Chrysogonus replied, “It is the present desire of Great Melwas that the Blood Dagger remain with its current owner.”
"Seconded. Whether or not Swiftpaw should have the blood dagger is not in question here." Kalani pouted at Hex. "Certainly not while he's helping us get rid of a problem we cannot directly interfere with. Besides, he makes me laugh."
"For now, it may be a pragmatic course of action, but mortals should not be wielding the power of the gods," Avestra said, stretching her claws on her perch. "It is not their place in the order of creation and will lead to all kinds of chaos."
“Okay, maybe he needs it a bit longer. I misinterpreted the situation. But this is a man who not only profits from but funds pirates and bandits. I don’t know bout you, but where I’m from, they hang you for that. Not put you in charge of the town’s government! He’s already been trying to use our actions for his own benefit. Are we gonna let this feller go around, steal, con and kill with our blessing? That don’t sound like promoting autonomy to me.”
"He also helped create the very boat you're standing in." Kalani shrugged. "Swiftpaw's antics have been, at worst, an inconvenience. You may hang a murderer, but you don't skin a child for sticking his tongue out at his classmates, do you?"
“Antics!? Where do you think that Swiftpaw gets his money for these so called antics? It’s from criminals. He funds criminals that go out extortin’, killin’, robbin’, and all other manner of things in his name! Oh, yeah. Sure he might not go out killing personally but I ain’t never met a bandit worth his salt that ain’t willing to back up a threat. And whose in charge of them bandits? Who gives them a safe haven, safe passage, a place to sell their stolen goods, and sky above knows what else. He’s signed people’s death all the same!”
”Mostly through smuggling; a problem for mortals to solve, not the gods." Kalani's eyes narrowed. She didn’t mention that he’d also sent a number of rich suitors her way after robbing them blind; besides, they were now doing well for themselves in Kalth. "If he's a killer, show the bodies. Regardless, Swiftpaw is not the topic at the moment. We have Titanrise’s people to consider-"
"So we kill them. Once they are longer protected by the city, we kill them." Thal spoke up for the first time, quickly followed by Ymon.
"They come to the Passing and are eventually returned to life without memories of any human superiority. Problem solved."
Thal-Verys, sat at the right hand of the Twin God, looked somewhat uncomfortable. On Ymon-Thal's left, Ymon-Desha was as unreadable as a statue.
Kalani stared at the twin gods. "... Tha... Can we try for a solution that doesn't involve mass murder?"
“Great Melwas echoes all calls for a peaceful resolution,” Chrysogonus darkly added, “Wanton slaughter will only promote further suffering.”
”Fear of reprisal...will not make... hate go away…” Graw interrupted. ”You kill an...idea but..you can't... discredit it....learning must be taken... into account...it can’t stop hate...”
Graw then passed. ”Unfortunately I have... some bad news to… put onto the pile…Julian has returned...
"... this might've been before my time, who's Julian?"
Chrysogonus loudly rapped his clawed fingers against the skull Hex had given him. “You also may wish to elaborate as to why this is an issue for anyone other than yourself. Or how it relates to the matter at hand.”
Hex set his notepad down for a second. “We should just let the mortals decide the fate of the Titan followers and other stragglers. I doubt Simor’s new rebel leaders will be all too keen on the old guard. It’s death for ‘em either way.”
"If we cannot destroy them," Avestra said, tilting her head in thought, "perhaps isolation would be the best solution? Seal them off entirely from the outside world so that they can no longer threaten our peoples?"
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Hex spoke up. “The trailmen have been making due well enough, but there’s a lot of waste that goes on because of how much more land they have to cover going around old Simor. You could try shipping the goods from one of the coasts near the Yith Jungle, but paths through the jungle are always slow, harsh, and usually not good for your products. On top of the fact that the boats have to tread a lot of dangerous water, ‘specially ‘round the Lucent Reef. Not to mention of course that not all products are best moved by boat.”
Kalani nodded. "That, and isolation breeds extremism; putting the Tyrant’s people separate from us with their 'gods are evil' ideology intact would only make the situation worse. And telling the rest of the mortals that rejecting us will get them sealed away forever is a rather poor message to send."
“I grow weary of this fretting,” Chrysogonus droned, “Let it be resolved simply and with this: Great Melwas claims the people of Titanrise as his own. When the city falls, its residents shall be dispersed and resettled within Frostreach. Their barbarous ideology will be obliterated within a few generations. It shall be a trifling matter to the Lord Unchanging.”
"Will he, now?" Kalani growled. "By what right does he claim those stolen from the other gods? Several of the Fae have been taken. Others, as well. You're also assuming Titanrise will still exist when this is done. Will it?"
Chrysogonus shook his head. “The slaves will be released and free to go as they please. Great Melwas claims only the worshippers of the Tyrant, the free humans of the city. Do you dispute his right to salvage those miserable souls? To make them honest, god-fearing folk? Or would you, like the others, prefer to see them slaughtered - or left to fester in isolation?”
The goddess hesitated. "Well, I... no, but..."
“Titanrise will still exist at the conclusion of this meeting,” Chrysogonus continued, gesturing lazily. “How could it not? Divine hands may not touch the city. The one called Swiftpaw must be the one to strike first. I do not know when that will be. Do you, Heartbinder? It is curious you did not bring him here.”
"How is that curious? He is not one of my worshippers. You may recall that him being separate from us is necessary for his plan to work. I enjoy his company, but that is different from having a servant." Kalani's eyes narrowed. "Further, I didn't mean 'at the end of this meeting', Chrysogonus."
“His plan is still his own. So long as Swiftpaw does not march to our orders, there is little to be lost in knowing when he will make his move,” Chrysogonus shrugged dismissively, “But perhaps you are wise to be cautious. I confess I do not know what you mean so far as Titanrise ‘existing’. When the city is compromised, it shall likely become a ruin, and the human classes who formerly ruled will become the sport of misery. Great Melwas will take them to Frostreach. Whether they are of one mind in making the journey or require additional motivation is irrelevant. It will be done one way or another. You may trust the Lord Unchanging to attend to such minor details as necessary - with a gentle touch.”
“This sounds like just a play for power to me. Mortals ought to have the right to be wrong, they just ain’t got the right to hurt others ‘cause of it. We should not seek to eradicate this strain of thinking. We must like an Ox, neuter it. So that it won’t harm other mortals.” Hex glanced down several times to his small notepad as if he was reading from it. “We are talking as if those humans have no right to their homeland. Which they do just as much as the rebels. Like hogs rutting wild and destroying the land they eat on, it is only a kindness to butcher ‘em. Some will die, some will die justly, and others won’t. Some innocents will die, and some guilty will live. But we should not seek to override the decisions of mortals. The trials put on by the mortals, kangaroo court or not will provide example enough to them what becomes of this ideology. As the human supremacists squander to justify their actions as anything but murder. We should be supporting the independence of mortals and of this new nation. Seeking to help in the trials and stabilize the country, not take what resources they already have from it.”
Chrysogonus scoffed with open contempt. “That is exceedingly foolish and I shall not belabour this concordance by explaining why. Great Melwas flatly rejects such a course.”
Kalani's eyes narrowed at the representative's open disrespect. "Chrysogonus, please, do not be rude. It reflects poorly on the master you claim to respect and speak for."
"I am interested in the Great Melwas' proposal," Avestra said, tilting her head. "There is a matter of geography, though. The city in question is surrounded by territory occupied by the Yith to the north, and my followers to the south. To get to Frostreach, you would have to pass through at least one." She turned to address Chrysogonus directly. "I can ask Kismet to arrange safe passage through Kanweland, the most direct route to Frostreach. In exchange, all that I ask is that after the land is depopulated, it is left to return to nature. No further mortals will be permitted to step on it." She turned back to address the whole party. "The fairest division is that it shall belong to no-one."
“We had intended another mode of transport, but a marching tour of Kanweland may do better to impress upon them the error of their ways,” Chrysogonus replied far more cordially to Avestra, “It is amenable to Great Melwas that the land be left to be left to be reclaimed by nature.”
Kalani raised an eyebrow. "Avestra... you are a goddess of nature. If it is reclaimed 'by nature', it will belong to you, not 'no one'."
“Hey, Avestra ain’t the only one who's a god of nature. Nature don’t belong to no one, no how.” Hex straightened his belt. “Even if it did, a nature preserve wouldn’t give us any power. Gods get their power from the people. Ain’t no people there, ain’t no power for either of us. Just a good deed on the world.”
She steepled her fingers together. "I find the idea of allowing the mortals to decide the punishment for their fellows intriguing... although, the extent that Hex proposes feels a bit much. And doing a fair trial for every citizen would take years at the very least."
“We wouldn’t have to ‘round up all of ‘em, Mam. Just the nastiest and meanest ones.”
“Their guilt is uniform,” Chrysogonus droned. “Those who did not directly partake in the crimes of Titanrise did little to resist it and doubtlessly profited by it, even if only indirectly. This must be answered with deliberate action, not a series of mortal-led show-trials.”
"Divinely-empowered tyrannical regimes are famous for the ease with which they are toppled, 'tis true." Kalani growled, snark dripping from every word like poisoned honey. "Your compassion and understanding for the victims of tyranny is inspirational, Chrysogonus."
“You are quite kind to notice, Heartbinder,” Chrysogonus replied, resolutely deadpan.
Hex scribbled something down on his notepad. “One ought to remember that mortals ain’t like us. One’s autonomy is held by how powerful they are. What may seem like cowardice to us was naught but self-preservation and lack of knowledge. Perhaps they is guilty, but as the old Shamatish saying goes. There is sometimes more justice done in killing a general and saving the soldiers than destroying the army. Save the followers and they’ll follow someone else all the same.”
“Wise counsel indeed,” The dreg continued, “And Great Melwas echoes such sentiments. Which is why the humans of Titanrise will be well taken care of - once they are transposed to Frostreach.”
"You just said that their guilt is uniform, Chrysogonus." Kalani growled. "No, they won't be taken care of in Frostreach."
“I recall that, yes,” Chrysogonus said, in a tone that conveyed the rolling of his eyes, “Their guilt is uniform. And they will be punished accordingly through the disassembly of their nation and exile to Frostreach. It is as humane a treatment as they deserve in consideration of their crimes. Land will be allocated to them, and they will build a new and peaceable future for themselves in Frostreach.”
“Their ties to that wretched state will be erased from them in time. Leaving them independent to find justice among themselves will only leave room for a far more insidious resurgence.”
"You miss my point. If their guilt is uniform, then so is their punishment. And what punishment would that be, if there will be no trial?" Her eyes narrowed. "I sincerely doubt that Melwas views land and caregiving as a punishment."
Chrysogonus gestured widely with one pair of arms. “Their trial is already taking place: here and now. They have spurned and mocked divinity, so it will be divinity that decides their fate. No one at this table disputes their guilt. We only debate the sentence.”
“In the eyes of Great Melwas, their punishment is that they shall endure the violence of Swiftpaw’s revolution, they shall endure the humiliation of their culture being dismantled before their eyes, and then they shall endure the grueling march to Frostreach. Is there not enough misery to be found in that? Would you prefer to see them butchered, mutilated, and guillotined first?”
“You are correct, of course, that the land and custodianship is no punishment: it is a mercy the Lord Unchanging freely grants. Punishment without rehabilitation is little more than base cruelty. It is pointless, except so far as it satisfies the pride and bloodthirst of the aggrieved.”
Kalani sighed. "I am not saying that we should butcher the children of Titanrise. I'm saying that I do not believe you when you suggest that is not your goal with this forced march into a land that is hostile to their lives both naturally and culturally. This is no mercy."
"I am in agreement with Melwas," Avestra said shortly. "We are not here for revenge, but to disable a threat. Permanently. Dissolving the nation as a single entity is the only way to ensure they do not rise again to pose a threat in the future."
Hex spoke up slowly as he took in what was being said. “The mortals pay no threat to us. They are a threat only to other mortals. Ultimately, how they die is of little concern. But I do not wish to see men, good nor bad, robbed of their homes, put to labor and marches, belittled of their values and all far from their loved ones in a lonely land they will not understand. I would see the hangman’s noose as a mercy if that were the alternative. ‘Specially since I have seen many a good man die travelling through those lands. That march is as bitter to these people as one can be, and bitter in great variety nonetheless. To march so many people at least without some great expenditure of divine power is to sentence them to a cruel and long death of wasting away. That is a death without any honor nor dignity. At least one set to face the executioner may square themselves before their deaths so that they may face it if not with dignity then at least with courage. A thing regularly eroded away in such a march where the mind is occupied with thoughts of naught but survival turned machine-like in its thoughts and movements.”
“They have done exactly that to others,” Chrysogonus sighed, shaking his head. “I do not see why they should be exempted from similar treatment. Their needs will be attended to on the march and their loved ones will join them in Frostreach. That is more than they have deigned to grant their victims.”
“If you distrust the intentions of the Lord Unchanging out of hand, then there is nothing more for us to discuss. Nothing I say can move you on the subject. The other divinities present here must pick a side.”
"'Tis hardly my fault that your own statements on the matter are so contradictory. You do a poor service to your lord." Kalani growled. "But you are correct that discussing it with you is a waste of time."
Kalani rarely met anyone she personally disliked, but Chrysogonus was doing his level best to make it onto that short list. It didn't help that Melwas had chosen to send a representative rather than come himself; part of her had hoped to ask about how the Winter Courts were faring. They were her daughters, even if they no longer paid her homage.
The Dark Su’ule waited for the others to finish, and she finally spoke. “Alternately, excuse me. . . Perhaps we could try something else. With your permission, Godsmoot, we, excuse me, I will create a dimension for them. They would then be magically transported without their knowledge to this other dimension. It would be a pleasant purgatory, if you will. Where they will be blissfully unaware of their imprisonment. The only one to suffer here will be Swiftpaw, who will be left out. This does not solve the conundrum of them leaving their homeland, but at least no one will technically get hurt.”
“We could even leave some sort of dimensional gate they could enter, should they suddenly discover where they are. Meanwhile, as I said, Swiftpaw will be the only one not to join them.”
Kalani hesitated. "... it's not a bad plan in isolation, but Titanrise regularly strikes out at beings across the world. It would not take long for them to notice that they are stuck in another dimension. Nor would that actually fix the culture of anti-deism, slavery, torture and human supremacy that brought about this conclave in the first place."
“I am a goddess of sorcery. I would simply make it very difficult for them to realize what’s really going on. Also, should you prefer, their victims would be the only occupants of Titanrise not taken to this place. I could require that all the leaders and immediate heirs be under the spell of a geas. Should they ever discover their true whereabouts, they would be forbidden from telling anyone, and furthermore, they would be required to hide the true knowledge of their new world, through any means necessary.”
“I could even tweak reality a little so that there could be people that don’t even exist in the original city. They would count as anchors into the new reality, people filling new roles and positions in Titanrise, helping to cement the populace’s new place. They might even be real individuals who have grown up, and lived in this place, at least in their memories.”
“Of course their newer conquests would just be phantoms, that is, if they even exist at all.”
"I suppose the question is what of the space on Oerth left behind?" Avestra ventured, thinking aloud. "If it could be allowed to return to nature, leaving a natural buffer between Kanweland and the Yith Empire, then I could support this idea."
Su’ule listened, thinking to herself. “Okay, that could work. If we’re only replacing the slaves with illusions in the other reality however, I suppose the rest could be returned to their homelands of origin?”
“This is the isolation proposed before, just with more trappings, more moving parts,” Chrysogonus spat, “It is insufficient for the reasons already discussed. No amount of sorcery can indefinitely conceal the nature of their imprisonment. They will inevitably find the means to escape, and from there continue their barbarism. This ideology must be destroyed at the root, not have a tarp thrown over it.”
“I suppose that I could simply throw the whole gate thing out of the equation. Will these mortals ever have a way out if we don’t provide a way for them?’ Su’ule asked rhetorically.
"Their ideology is self-contradictory, brutal, and oppressive to all. With no non-humans to enslave, they will turn on one another and disintegrate. It's only lasted as long as it has through prophecy, xenophobia against both us and non-humans, and the momentum of the Tyrant's conquests." Kalani said, her voice quiet as she poured another glass of ambrosia. "I don't know if it should be a gate, but we should give a way out of that place to those who seek it. Preferably with no way to return."
“Perhaps a test is in order for those who discover a way out, to see if they are worthy of escape?”
“This idea for a prison is, after all, based on the idea to avoid slaughter, yet protect their neighbors from aggression.” Su’ule stated.
Graw listen patiently at the gods ramblings ”I agree with... Hex… He responded. ”Not all born... there are evil... they can be redeemed...I have seen that change... from so many other cultures…Like the... Terrors...and Automaton...”
“Despite the horrors they inflicted, can we not find it to be better than them? To give the simple quick death.” Hex said, drawing himself up as if he was making closing statements. “As I’ve said before, this supposed threat which some seek to isolate is no threat to us. To most here, it is not even a threat that shall find itself to the lands of their followers. Their ideology is heinous, but it is not unique to their lands. We shall get nothing from isolating the followers or the land. Specism among mortals is common throughout history and all lands. Coming in many shapes and sizes. Though not to the terrible degree of Titanrise, I’ve seen it many times before on my trail. We need to give the mortals a chance to grow, to show the world that even those who were awful before may have a chance and that coexistence is possible. We must set an example for mortals, not hide the truth from them.”
“Curiously, why not do both? We could use this time in the other dimension as their trial. Should they pass, they pass. If not, well then there’s always life in their blissful ignorance.”
Kalani hummed. "I would be satisfied with Su'ule's dimensional rehabilitation or with Hex's trial."
“These are both half-measures,” Chrysogonus drones, “And therefore wholly unsatisfactory to Great Melwas.”
"Your distaste for the plans as they stand are noted." Kalani growled, her eyes turning towards Chrysogonus. "Do you have anything constructive to contribute?"
Chrysogonus sighed. “I could reiterate my previous points, if you wish.”
”So no. Could you enjoy the wine while we discuss matters, then, please?” Kalani asked, impatience beginning to creep into her tone.
A pause. Then, “Very well.”
Chrysogonus was incapable of partaking, and so merely traced the rim of the wine glass allocated to him with an idle hand.
"I think we've all said everything we're going to." Kalani continued. "What is our way forward, then? I would put my support behind Su'ule's dimensional rehabilitation, or with Hex's trial by mortals. Su'ule and Hex doubtless support their own plans first and foremost. Chrysogonus has made his opinion clear, and Avestra wishes for Titanrise to be returned to nature. What of the rest of us?"
“We should do the votes separate.” Hex said. “One for what we make of the mortals left, and one for what we shall do with the land left.”
"We are not a democracy," Avestra said, ruffling her feathers. "My support for any plan is dependent on the land being returned to nature afterwards. As is stands, I would support Su'ule's plan in preference to any other."
Chrysogonus meshed two of his hands. “Great Melwas agrees with Hex. The fate of the land and the people should be decided in two separate votes. He maintains support for his own plan of relocation in the meantime.”
"Any vote on the land is irrelevant until the mortals are dealt with," Kalani pointed out. "And we have spent a great deal of time on the mortals' fate already. We can reconvene once Titanrise's population is dealt with through whatever means are decided here."
“This is acceptable,” Chyrsogonus droned.
The Lankan Delegate would be suddenly suffused with a divine current, having stayed quiet so far. “Greetings fellow divinities. Forgive me for being more or less absent this meeting as I had far more important things to attend to. As for the vote...I believe Melwas’s idea is perfect, with the small addition that I get a portion of their thinking men? Their mages, miracle workers, onwards and so forth. I think half is fair? Trust me, they’ll be punished well in Lanka. Those few who are worthy will make great citizens as well. What says your great Melwas to that?” He’d say, nodding toward the gods representative.
The dreg looked over to the Lankan delegate. If it possessed eyebrows, perhaps it would have arched them. “Great Melwas will insist on selecting his half first. But then again, those hotly desired in Lanka would not be much wanted in Frostreach. He graciously accepts.”
”So… Two votes for Melwas’ proposal. Two for Su’ule’s. I assume Hex supports his own proposal primarily?”
“Yes’um.” was all Hex said.
The conversation continued for some time. In the end, Avestra and Kalani reached an accord, and Su’ule’s plan to seal away the people of Titanrise and hopefully rehabilitate them was passed.Hate me if you want. But that's your issue to fix, not mine.
Primal ego vos, estis ex nihilo.
When Gods Go To War comes out March 8th
Discord: HalfTangible
Extended Sig
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2021-11-09, 05:48 PM (ISO 8601)
- Join Date
- Jul 2020
- Location
- Florida
- Gender
Exercising Some Divine Privilege
The results of the Godsmoot had been disappointing to Great Melwas, to say the least. Even still, plans would need to be adjusted and payments made. He directs his Surveyor to act: first to ensure the Cherning is hobbled, and then to pay a quick visit to Titanrise.
Spoiler: Hinder for Chern (Again!)The Surveyor gathers the scholar-princes of the Jiangshi Clique and the deathless aptangr sorcerers of Frostreach to enact a desperate ritual, using Archimedes as a battery.
The ritual aims to stop the Cherning altogether, but in the event they fail, they will at least enjoy some modest protections.
-2 Sorcery, -2 Architecture: Arcane levees and dikes will be constructed en masse to divert and destroy the floodwaters. Further, the structures and settlements of the Five Islands and Frostreach will not collapse no matter how severe the floods and weather become.
Incidentally, the people of the Five Islands will become increasingly aware that it was the Jiangshi Clique and Great Melwas, not Xinnies, who acted to preserve them, in particular, from the greatest horrors of the Cherning. There will be a great deal of reflection and discourse on this fact in time.
Spoiler: Help for Ka'al RussKa’al Russ had opposed the Cherning, and so his curious little project found the unlikely endorsement of Melwas. Bargains should be kept, however unseemly. There was, however, one small alteration to be made...
+2 Unliving, +1 Embalming, +1 Anatomy: The wings of the Promised Land, though ostensibly alive, are inoculated from death and decay. Should any of the wings “die”, they will carry on as perfectly preserved undead… But then be wholly answerable to the will of Melwas.
+1 Alchemy: Scrapings taken from the massive feathers prove useful for alchemical regents.
+2 Stasis: Part of the natural, intended state of the Promised Land reasserts itself. The barbarous curse preventing rainfall is stripped away.
-1 Sorcery: The Promised Land will always travel around, or otherwise avoid hovering over, the Five Islands and Frostreach.
Titanrise - Red Gardens District
Hortens Family Residence
Another late night in the ironworks. Licinius issued a prodigious yawn as he stuck his key into the lock, twisting to open the front door of his house. Yelling at slaves was exhausting work. It felt like most of his time was spent doing that rather than actual forgecraft. Such useless, intractable creatures the blighted gods had made. They required constant supervision. How’d they even win the war to begin with? Not that the war was over, really.
He closed the door behind him and stretched, and caught sight of a faint and flickering light in the kitchen. Had his wife waited up for him? What a sweet thing. Licinius struggled out of his boots and meandered into the kitchen. There was a slight figure leaning against a countertop, though he didn’t quite recognize it.
“Honey?” He squinted in the gloom and twisted the knob on an oil-lamp mounted on the wall.
A pallid man in fine clothes, with stitching around his neck. Not his wife. Not at all. Licinius made a choked squawking sound. The trespasser only blinked in the light.
“Licinius Hortens?”
Licinius went fumbling through his jacket, producing a rondel dagger that he struggled to dislodge from its scabbard.
The trespasser frowned his mouth and came away from the counter. “I was hoping we might discuss this in a gentlemanly fashion. That won’t be necessary. Or fruitful.”
“Like hell it won’t be fruitful,” Licinus hissed, dagger coming free. The scabbard went flying and skittered across the dining table. “Who do you think you are, coming in here? Get out!”
The dandy-looking burglar frowned. “I would have to move past you to get out. May I approach?”
“Uh, no, just...” Licinius pointed the dagger less-than-menacingly, eyes darting back and forth. “You… Stay right there! I’m calling the guards.”
“You’re going to call the guards while holding me at knifepoint? How would they hear you?”
Licinius bit his lip, “I’ll scream.”
“The checkpoint is miles off, don’t be absurd. No one can scream that loudly,” and the dandy-burglar took a few steps forward, palms out in an inoffensive gesture. “Let’s be reasonable.”
“Stop! I’ll gut you, bastard!”
He stopped, looking a little disappointed, and lowered his hands. “Again, it won’t be helpful. It’ll do even less against him.”
"Against...?" The hair on the back of Licinius’ neck stood on end. Something lumbered silently into the doorway behind him…
---
For a humble artisan, Ulren Redpoint observed that Licinius was quick. He whipped around and sunk his dagger right into the draugr’s side, approximately where the kidney would have previously been. Many of Titanrise's slave-owners, or slave-drivers as the case currently was, were armed. And had some rudimentary form of self-defense training. Ulren had learned that several times over the course of the night so far.
Had it been a single slave, Licinius doubtlessly would have prevailed. As it were, Ulren’s hulking draugr footman merely gave the appearance of being annoyed. Licinius stared up wordlessly at the dried corpse, its blue lips peeled back in a death grimace. There were gaps in the teeth.
“Hnnh,” the footman grunted.
Licinius had almost found the presence of mind to scream, but then the draugr’s hands had been fastened around his neck. It lifted Licinius clear of his feet, heedless of the dagger still stuck in its side, and began to strangle him viciously.
Ulren winced, and sympathetically picked at the stitching on his neck. “Paulus. Gentle, please.”
The draugr acknowledged this command by dropping Licinius at once. He fell into a pile, coughing and sputtering, attempting to fill his lungs again. Ulren crouched by his side, frowning lightly. “I did try to warn you...”
Licinius spit a wad of saliva into the floorboards and directed Ulren, in colorful terms, to consume excrement.
“Yes, well,” Ulren patted the man on the back, and a flash of silver light crossed his eyes. “Sleep now.”
Licinius wavered in place for a moment, eyelids drooping. And then he collapsed, mouth open, drooling into the floorboards. After a moment he began to snore. Ulren got back up and dusted off his knee, frowning at the draugr. Hadn’t he told him to wait? Paulus gripped the dagger by the hilt and extracted it from his side. It emerged perfectly clean, and Paulus dropped it to the ground.
“Hnnh.”
“Tie him up, thank you,” replied Ulren. “I’ll open the gate in just a moment.”
Ulren stepped further into the kitchen, producing a small notebook and its accompanying stylus from his coat pocket. Within was a neatly arranged list of names, in the flowing, elegant handwriting Ulren recognized as Cassandra’s. He found Licinius Hortens among the list of names and crossed it out.
That would be the last of the automaton-smiths considered worthwhile. Next Ulren would move on to the few blood mages that had been selected for retrieval. He was not at all looking forward to those confrontations. Not one bit. They would be dreadful and protracted affairs. Duels. Oh, the drama.
He tucked the book away. Melwas once had designs on all of Titanrise‘s human population for his use. Something had changed, but the emissaries of the Lord Unchanging had been tight-lipped about it, as usual. Whatever it was, apparently it had made Melwas a great deal choosier. And it implied to Ulren Titanrise as they knew it would not be around much longer.
Judging from the list Ulren had received, Melwas was at least determined to get use from the dark sciences pioneered by the titanists. Though to what end, he had no desire to speculate.
Paulus was standing behind him. “Hnnh.”
“Alright, alright. Just a moment.”
Ulren breathed in, and traced the relevant sigils in the air. Bolts of magical energy crackled silently in his wake. Seams in the fabric of space and time. Nothing special. He wormed his fingers in the cracks and pulled. The gate opened, and the stagnant air of a prison cell hit him square in the face.
A woman had crammed herself in the corner of the cell, between the wall and a threadbare bed, eyes raw from hysterical crying. She clutched a bundle to her chest and stared wild-eyed at Ulren. The Surveyor offered a sad, almost apologetic smile. “Lady Hortens. May I present your husband?”
Paulus heaved Licinius through the portal. The unconscious man slid awkwardly across the cold cobblestones, failing to stir. He’d feel it when he woke up, probably. Lady Hortens stumbled forward awkwardly, crawling on hands and knees towards her husband.
“The guard will cut him loose,” Ulren offered helpfully, “Next time he happens by.” If he remembers…
Lady Hortens looked up at Ulren and began to scream something that would have likely been explicit, but the portal unwound itself and snapped shut. Reality restored. Again, nothing special.
Ulren frowned and dusted his hands, “I sometimes worry I’m in service of an evil god, Paulus. Do you think it would be more evil or less if the families were split up?”
“Hnnnh,” Paulus said.
“Are you actually speaking, or is that just the animating magicks squeezing air out of your chest cavity?”
Air whistled through Paulus’ teeth. “Hnnh.”
Ulren scoffed as if offended. “I don’t know why I bother. Let’s move on.”
He traced another set of sigils into the air, the threads springing back into existence. He would have much rather been in Qing. His apprentice was progressing rather exquisitely. It brought some measure of satisfaction to his cold, still heart. More than this did, that was for sure.
The gate opened. A dim and musty library. An old and crooked man had his back to them, hunched over, muttering to himself. At the very least this one was home when he should be.
Ulren plucked at his cuffs and stepped silently through. “Ah, excuse me, Magister Flavius…?”Last edited by Red Lenses; 2021-11-09 at 05:54 PM.
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2021-11-10, 12:03 AM (ISO 8601)
- Join Date
- Aug 2010
- Location
- The Primus Imperium
- Gender
Re: Pan-aeons: a God Game
[A Promise Kept]
Kalani didn't like what she'd been asked to do. Avestra had tried to make it sound like a good thing, something she would approve of. A love potion, one to help the drinker find true love at last. A final resort for those who had no hope of anything else. But Kalani could never commend refusing the lonely a child. They could always adopt, yes, but to produce life from one's own flesh and blood was a beautiful thing, was it not?
Still. She had promised Avestra a working, and she would give it.
Spoiler: Create Magical Plant - Thorgan Heartbind
+2 Love: Heartbind, when ground down and mixed into a potion, guarantees that one will find their truest love. It may take days, weeks, even years, but eventually those who drink of it will find themselves pulled towards their truest love.
+1 Beauty: Once the potion has matched a pair together, the two shall change physically into the ideal that the other desires and dreams of.
+1 Adaptation: Thorgan Heartbind can thrive in almost any enviornment.
+1 Protection: Whoever takes this potion shall be protected from misfortune and the ravages of the world on their way to meet their true, destined love, and their lover will similarly be protected.
+1 Allure: Those who partake of the flower are drawn from it to their destined lover, an unmistakable pull as strong as the red string of fate itself.
+2 Trickery: There's no such thing as an "actual destined lover". What truly happens is the drinker is matched up with their most compatible lover, someone else who has drunk the Thorgan Heartbind. Additionally, if the drinker is able to find someone before the flower begins to pull them, then the tie is severed, as are all other effects of the potion.
-2 Lonely: The catch is that the plant will render those who make use of its properties sterile, ruining any chance they might've had to produce children. Avestra assures Kalani this is to prevent overpopulation and allows the new couple to grow closer together, but Kalani finds it an abhorrent thing to do to anyone.
One night, Kilgore is met by a beautiful Fae woman. She giggles, plants a kiss on his cheek, and is gone before he can even ask her name.
That kiss never quite washes away...
Spoiler: Help Hex+2 Love: Love is priceless, yet it costs nothing to give. Novel Exchange cannot take love in a trade, but may receive and give it freely.
+2 Trickery: Kalani loves tricks and games. Novel Experience will be a clever, tricky soul, blessed with luck in indirect actions.
+1 Adaptation: In a difficult situation, Novel Experience has a knack for taking limited resources and putting together a solution.
+1 Beauty: Novel Experience and its hosts have a disarming charm, able to talk themselves out of most any situation.
+1 Allure: Novel Experience will never have trouble finding new marks. They will find their way to it/him.
+1 Protection: Novel Experience is marked by Kalani's own lips. The Fae will know them, and will welcome and shelter them if need be.Last edited by HalfTangible; 2021-11-10 at 12:04 AM.
Hate me if you want. But that's your issue to fix, not mine.
Primal ego vos, estis ex nihilo.
When Gods Go To War comes out March 8th
Discord: HalfTangible
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