Lords of Creation: A Fresh Beginning [IC]

**canjowolf** · 2021-09-11, 04:24 PM (ISO 8601)

Originally Posted by Feathersnow

Spoiler

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Slingid

At the Black Peak of Reason

Slingid was the last to depart, but the first to arrive. He had originally intended not to bother to go to the conference. It seemed like a waste of time. Talk was cheap and he believed, in his arrogance, that the Sligs needed no help. And certainly, they had no incentive to help others.

To his chagrin, he realized his blindness. The Sligs were distressingly few, and he lacked the power to defend them from all the enemies that might come. The Calling had infiltrated his society, and while it seemed benign, it was a power Slingid could not match. The Monster called OGAM still lurked at the core of the world, and Ze had thoughtlessly massacred a society that outnumbered the Sligs by an order of magnitude. And these were at least comprehensible threats. Something has just come from thin air and ripped away one of only four living Queens!

So Slingid flew to the summit, humbled. He introduced himself to the mortal host and perched, awaiting those who would come...

Tloc

Tloc entered the Orchard where The Circle met, telling his pet Slog to heel. He was greeted by a particularly imposing al-Atfal, one who knew him already!

This al-Atfal was clearly a leader, and.. though he could not easily guess, his vague understanding of mammalian physiology led him to suspect she was female. Of course, then, she was a leader. Tloc understood, intellectually, gender worked differently for al-Atfal... but his presuppositions aligned with reality, at least to a degree.

"Well Met! I confess I am at a disadvantage, for I do not know of you as you know of me, honored one.

I am, indeed, Tloc, one of those by chance away from the Hive House when the Mists came for Glimblisk. Only 4 of us lived, and our glorious Queen was... taken, also.

Am I given to understand I address now the Queen of the Circle? If so, I am honored and humbled.

I seek to learn of your arts, to better prepare my people to defend themselves. In exchange, I can offer what knowledge I have, mainly on the creation and maintenance of magical constructs and land husbandry."

Just then, as a sign from Slingid, something happened that had never happened before. The eggs of the copper trees hatched, each of them in the world, including those gathered near there to be used for their material, into male cockatoos, all of copper, with a green patina about the flight feathers and bright red crests.

Spoiler: Slig biology

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Sligs have a radically different chromosomal schema than mammals. This leads to three completely distinct castes that, unlike vertebrate sexes, can be clearly defined in all cases. The two reproductive castes, called "Queens" and "Drones" have octoploid chromosomes, while "Workers" are haploid.

A Queen is a Slig that has a W chromosome and 7 Z chromosomes, while a Drone has 8 Z chromosomes. Slig workers have one Z chromosome. Drones are tiny, animalistic, and fuse like parasites into the body of a huge Queen at maturity. Typically as many as three Drones fuse with each Queen.

As a result of this, the Slig population, though tiny, is actually much more genetically diverse than might be assumed. Also, the most common fear of inbreeding, the manifestation of undesirable recessive traits, cannot occur in Slig workers, as having only one chromosome, instead of a pair, they lack recessive traits. The threat occurring in reproductive castes is also much reduced, due to the much larger number of chromosomes able to overcome a single bad gene in each individual.

Sociologically, Sligs have two genders, "Worker" and "Queen," as Drones lack sapience. These genders always use male and female pronouns, respectively.

A new Magic

Sligs had a little knowledge of magic, to maintain their prosthetic legs. And Sligs all had a familiarity with smoke. So it was no surprise when Bistr'Ghom, a wizard in the Core Hive, found a way to combine them.
What was surprising is what he found. At first he did not understand. It seemed like a map. One that moved, but slowly, over the course of hours.

Then he concentrated on focusing it on his location. And it was unlike the landscape around him.

Perhaps this discovery would have been discarded, had he not looked up. He had modeled the clouds!

From this beginning, the mapping of the currents of sky and ocean began.

It was some time before the fateful day a bored Fumomancer accidentally Scryed messages intended for the Garden, and others looked on with envious eyes.

The Second Swarming

The second time new Queens went out to form new colonies from the Core Hive was a great celebration, greater even than the first, 17 years earlier.

But it was also different. As before, three Queens were being sent out. The first went South, to resettle the lands claimed by Glimblisk. The other two, however, had grander plans. They had their chosen build them boats. They would be the first Sligs to leave Piedwald, guided to new lands by the new knowledge of Fumomancy.

One sought to go to The Garden, to see the strange things her Scryers had intercepted. Another sought to go North, counseled by Ytrel cadre.

At The Garden

The Queen and her Chosen found themselves at the Gardener temple. Led there by visions in smoke. Perhaps, had they paid more attention to the more mundane visions, or scouted ahead, they would have known this placed lacked enough quality wood for a longhouse and a bad series of storms were coming, I being the rainy season.

They planted their Borametz birds and began culturing their air-kelp, but the land was different, and they were ill-prepared. Their Meeps and Scrabs were only enough to establish breeding stock, not to provide meat.

They squatted miserably in the Temple, their supplies dwindling, even as their Queen grew ever more swollen with her first clutch of eggs. The Gardeners, in their pity, started bringing them charity, and some began to show them their ways of living, better adapted to this land.

It was a kindness many might later have regretted...

Spoiler: AP actions

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Create Mostrous Life- Cupratoos 1 AP
Unlike the purely undead metal trees, copper trees can breed as other Borametz, by growing eggs that hatch into cockatoos that bury themselves and grow into trees

Darkness ( Forest) 4/10

Create Mythic Subconcept- Fumomancy 1AP (shared with Canjowolf)
This magic allows the real-tine scrying of fluids such as ocean currents and weather patterns, as well as the transmission of visual images. All rendered in the medium of smoke.

(Society) Pioneering 7/10

Blessing- trade currents 1AP
It is very fast for even crude boats to get to nearby continents if they know to take advantage of currents in the ocean. Not necessarily safe, though.

Society (pioneering) 8/10

Spoiler: TL; DR

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1) Slingid is at the conference
2) Tloc introduces himself to Tajira, with a minor misunderstanding

3) an OoC description of Slig genetics and why inbreeding isn't an immediate problem and how exactly their genders work

4) Fumomancy is discovered!

5) Three more Slig Hives are founded. One resettles Glimblisk. One goes to Thirta- Din at the urging of The Calling cultists. One goes to the Garden.

6)The Hive trying to set up in The Garden falters, ends up Squatting in a Gardener temple and living on hand-outs.

Setting: The Garden, Slig Landfall
Actors: The gardeners, the phihid, the slig

The coming of the slig had been first seen by the kikiri birds who flew between the islands surround the great Garden. Then had come the scent of their ships and their fires, blowing across the waves. When the slig finally made landfall, the Phihid on the shore were ready for them, and greeted these foreigners with smells of fruit and safety, as Shadow had instructed.

However, it seemed that the slig were not ready to respond in kind to the greetings of the Phihid. The cephalopodic beings with their animated wooden limbs began planting the seeds of bird trees. Conifers in the jungle. The Phihid and the gardeners grew their tools with careful planning and guesswork, taking that which had succeeded before in the hopes that it would succeed again. The slig seemed to build their tools afterwards. Little forethought. Little attention paid to the dangers ahead. They were like the phihid of the caves and waves who followed a siren call to the depths and were lost to the histories.

Although the shore was relatively dry and open, the jungles were hot, humid, and full biting insects which traveled through the terrifying ever-present mists. Some of the workers who traveled into the depths grew lethargic and entered a sleep from which they did not awaken. Some were attacked by great cats or hungry serpents or sharp eyed raptors, feathers dappled by the sunlight through the trees. The mental signals sent back to She-Who-Is-Ever-A-Part were of fear and fatigue.

When the greetings of the Phihid were ignored, Shadow decided to send the gardeners, beings more similar to the slig and harder to ignore. They came to the new colony as a trio in flower bedecked fiber robes carrying great bundles of netting on their backs. Stopping well away from the settlement, the three gardeners planted poles as stakes and pulled their net baskets taunt between the stakes to form a table of cables. They cast woven rugs over these tables to form a solid surface, and set objects upon the three tables.

On the first was a bowl of fruits of many colors, such as were eaten by the gardeners. The slig were hungry, and their most immediate need appeared to be food.

On the second was placed a bowl out of which grew brightly colored flowers with a strong stench. The clouds of insects were not visible around the gardeners, nor around this table as the gardeners retreated.

On the third table was a third bowl. In this one grew a thick, heavy stemmed plant with small white flowers. It oozed a fuzzy black resin, and the gardeners had been careful not to touch the blackness.

The three gardeners then retreated back to the edge of the sligs' clearing, that the sligs would be unafraid to approach the woven tables.

Spoiler: AP

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Starting 4
-1: Curse with Sleeping Sickness - The Garden is a dangerous jungle and those who are unprepared will fall victims to its hazards. One of these is Sleeping Sickness, an ailment caused by parasites which will find a way to exist in most animal-like being and will cause the victim to fall asleep and never wake up. Those who fall asleep in this way have powerful dreams while under the effect. (nature - parasitism)

**bc56** · 2021-09-12, 05:15 PM (ISO 8601)

Vanishing Sparks
In time, the two warrior gods, whose stone blades channeled starfire to destroy and reforge, were forgotten.
But like many things forgotten, they were not truly gone. One day, they would return...

An Ember Adrift on the Wind
Her masters gone, Ember, the first of her kind, was without purpose. She constructed from the wood of taiga pines a raft, and let the currents carry her where they would. She knew what she wanted to do: to seek other Kumiho across the world. She knows her kin come from the sky; but she has never met another.
And so, she finds her way to the northern shore of Abdita, one fiery nine-tailed fox seeking others of her kind, or anyone, really.

[B]The Third Death/B]
Aslido He-Who-Raises was dead, then dead again. He had been a petty and unsuccessful warlord in his time, a necromancer by profession, but one whose attempt at conquest was unceremoniously destroyed and forgotten.
Now, for all time, he wandered the Arroyo through a landscape of blistering magma and driving winds.
In frustration and despair, he gave up. He cast himself into the fire.
He was not destroyed. Not yet. But he found himself somewhere else, and entire world of burning heat and flame. Two great beings stood over him. They seized him and hurled him in a fire so hot the spirit itself became soft and malleable. They retrieved him and hammered him out; burning away impurities and refining good qualities.
Some would say that the entire process of traveling the Arroyo and then some was carried out in moments; its mission resonated with the twin gods who called that great forge home. But Aslido He-Who-Raises was only the first to be so remade, others would later follow. When each was finished, their memories had been burned dim, though maybe with time they would return. These reforged souls would not return to the Wending; their new masters had other purposes for them. They were instead cast back to the First World to nestle with a newborn child, next to its own soul.

Spoiler: AP Actions

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Starting AP: 12/16
Weave Plane: The Forge of Hearts [Craft (smithing) 9/10]
The Forge is the private abode of Rend and Right, where they stay and work at nearly all times. It is a small plane, only the size of a couple rooms. It is filled with firelight and burning heat, and dominated by the forge in which anything, from copper to hearts and minds, can be smithed.
Create Portal: The Gate through Fire [??? 2/10]
The flames in the Arroyo now hold a secret: those that hurl themselves in, willingly risking destruction, are whisked away to the Forge of Hearts to be remade. However, this is a closely-guarded secret; those who undergo this process will remember nothing of it.
Bless: Twin Souls [Craft (smithing) 10/10] Some spirits of the dead find their way to Rend and Right's forge, where they are remade, stripped of their memories, and returned to the First World. From the perspective of those on the First World, occasionally a child is born with two minds in one body. These young ones are magically gifted, naturally talented in whatever their older soul was skilled in in life. They do not recall what happened to their elder self in their past life at first, but over time, memories arise. Such is the test that Rend and Right set forth for these chosen few: the imparted soul belonged once to a person of unrepentant evil. How does the new being, who carries that soul and its abilities, respond to the memories of the evil they had done in a past life? Will it define them, or will they defy it?"
Remaining AP: 6/16

**moonfly7** · 2021-09-12, 08:51 PM (ISO 8601)

A Request, and a plan

As Tahrthua took his place away from the others, he recieved a friendly, but strangely knowing nod from Kalvrankin, and a whispers only in the mist gods ear, soft, but in a jovial and laughing tone, friendly. Like one might use to a particularly skilled opponent in a friendly poker game.
“Welcome, friend. I must thank you, the story you are writing, it's ripples will make the other tales so much more full of life! I look forward to what more devious twists you have planned!”

And after this, and the words of Arkhos, Kalvrankin spoke once again to the prophet of Arahuana.

“You're Utterer's will find a hearty welcome and warm beds in the Orchard. They will be welcomed as honored friends, for surely such a responsibility as the one they shoulder is worthy of our thanks.

And while we speak of our people, may I ask for your gods understanding for the creation of mine. I do not ask for forgivness, but for him to know that they were born of a desire to see a story continue, not to slight or corrupt his cycle. A cycle that I now see I threw a twist into with my impulsive actions. I hope that given time, if you do not already, that you will accept my people as simply another step along the path of life and death. And, if it is not rude of me, I would ask a favor. My people are communal in nature, with a deep love of their families and friends. Community is a deep part of their lives, it would mean much to them if you would allow me to create within the wending a place for the spirits of those of them who are worthy to rest and mingle together in a paradise of their lords making.”

With this, Kalvrankin steps back. He has little else to say in this meeting, unless the subject of the Calling is broached. Unlike the lord of mists and icy death, that thing in the deep wants to keep and steal, not just devour and destroy. And there is a difference, one sends his people home to a well deserved rest, and another keeps them in the same dark he himself felt for too long.

He also felt a hole, here he was, busy with other gods. Talking and being all proper, when there was a whole world to explore! Like that beautiful Garden! And that Undead Tree that was Ogam but also not! so much beauty to see and so many stories to observe. And he could have been with his people right now, keeping them company through the bad times!

Hmmm, yes. Soon, soon he would need to be two places at once. He would reach the tree. and then it would begin.

Innovation and Change

Amidst Tajir's work with the slig hero, she kept detailed notes on her new theories and ideas. True Tempered metals could theoretically be made many times more useful if they could exist within an Order Member, but doing so was dangerous, as the noble sacrifice of a willing participants first story Attested. It was actually Lyra She-Who-Searches-For-Answers, the craftsman who sacrificed her mortal life for the test, who first came up with the theory.

"What if, just as adding Mana to metal brings out new properties, other things could do the same? What if all things have the capacity to change, even just slightly, the matter of all other things? Perhaps among the vast unknown materials out there, there lies an answer to our problem."

And so, Lyra set out to a remote and secluded place, and took wither her 10 likeminded fellows. And for many months they did research and send out envoys to collect knowledge and samples from the different schools and temples established around piedwald. And slowly but surely, progress was made. It was a day of much strangeness when a bubbling bronze beaker was poured into a puddle of water and the puddle shifted from liquid to solid, or when the air could be made into a ball. And even stranger when the careful measurments and calculations made for Lyra's craft did shift the hue of a golden egg to the dull grey of Lead, and back again.

And in this Tajir was very pleased, and she and her compatriot began the work to make their metal a liquid, and unharmful to their people. But this work was done in secret, unlike their masters gifts. For Tajir had only recently left Aslido He-Who-Raises laying headless in the dirt. And she knew the dangers that might rise if this Art, this Changing-Of-Things, this Alchemy, were to become as well taught and shared as their other magics. They would not be able to keep it totally secret, not forever. But they could slow the flow of information, and for a time keep their people and others safe from it's abuse.

Spoiler: AP Cost

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Create Mythic Concept(2 AP Shared with Whose-Voice-The-Deluge) Alchemy: Alchemy is the mixing of different isotopes and compounds to create new effects and results, with just a pinch of other-worldly mystiscm thrown in for good Measure. Alchemy can change metals into other metals, Change an objects state of matter, and any number of other strange and wonderous effects, even, perhaps those effecting life force itself. Alchemy is not magic, as it does not require the use of mana, but ingredients used in ALchemy can some times be magical in origin, like True Tempered metals, or the living bones of a necromanced creature. Change(Rebirth) (3/10)

AP before roll over: 4

4+4=8

8-2 =6

Current AP: 6

**Feathersnow** · 2021-09-12, 09:03 PM (ISO 8601)

Slingid:

In the Garden

The Sligs look on the three offerings. It is clear only one is meant as food, and they take it gratefully.

The offering of flowers, they are confused by, until they notice it's strong smell and how it seems to repel the incessant biting flies. They take it to their Queen and spread it around the Temple. After gathering more of the flowers, they realize they can multiply its effect by carefully roasting then burning it, then magically controlling the smoke.

The third offering is one the Gardeners avoided touching, and the Sligs did not understand it. Then they found a dead meep near one of the plants in the wild, and the meaning became obvious. They systematically, but carefully, cleared the white-and-black vines, as they called them, from the pastures of the meeps. They even cleared them from the pastures of the scrabs, though they rarely ate raw plants.

As the Gardeners would have known, had the Sligs been able to ask, the semi-tropical adapted Borametz did poorly in the equatorial jungle, and the air-kelp suffered and did not survive at all. Careful husbandry might eventually lead them to raise a breed of stork-cedar that would thrive, and the quetzal-cycad seemed to thrive, but storks were hard to feed in their animal phase, and the quetzal was an oddity that would take years to grow into numbers to safely harvest.

The Chicken-Junipers were still their main crop, but they needed both shade and artificial drainage, and that meant labor. Even then, the crops were meager.

In desperation, the Sligs tried reseeding the fruits given them by the Gardeners, and these faired much better. Once the Gardeners saw this attempt, they offered rootstock and cuttings, to ensure the Sligs did not fail. The Sligs it seemed, were not completely ignorant of proper horticulture, for they understood these offerings!

Plantains, yams, 0sweet banana, and papaya were particularly effective at meeting the needs of the Sligs and their livestock.

The Sligs had by this time doubled in number and built a longhouse near the Temple they had previously been squatting in. The Gardeners were relieved they understood to build a slanted roof for the rainy season.

Thirtha-Din

The colony that ventured North was more successful, at first. The chicken-junipers and air-kelp seemed to thrive in the volcanic land recommended to the new Queen by Ytrel cadre. The relative lack of native trees led to the new hive living in caves, which, while odd, was not unpleasant with the ability to control airflow from their fires granted by the fumomancers.

But soon things began to disappear. Things of value, especially. The Queen investigated the minds of her hive and saw the same pattern. An inescapable urge to toss valuables into the pits in the caves.

In desperation, the Queen herself went into the darkness, porter constructs carrying gifts of food and ale. She shouted, In her own voice " WHAT DO YOU WANT? I WOULD SEEK AN ACCORD!"

The Seadrinker heard her.

Tloc
Tloc took well to life in The Circle. Like most Sligs, his mind was a blank canvas, easily filled by the right stimuli. He was the first to learn the secrets of Tumbaga, and that lesson made teaching others easier.
He also understood that Slingid had chosen copper as the prime strain of breeding metallic birds for a reason. There would come a time when Sligs would die of old age, though that day was still many cycles of Jubilee and Swarming the future. Who would hear their voices then? Copper, enhanced by the magic of Kalvrankin, would preserve their words and the great Sagas of the Sligs, without recourse to the strange method of "writing" that seemed alien to him.
His greatest discovery, at least in immediate effect, though, was the chance incorporation of Zinc nails into the many prototype legs he and Tajira tried building.
Zinc was an odd metal, the only common metal that had yet to show its True Temper Blessing. Until later that week, when Tloc had realized that he had not needed the cantrips to feed the animation magic of the legs.
All during this time, he had been in regular contact with other Sligs and the Circle Missionaries in their hives via Fumomanctic scrying. The sign language developed had become elaborate, and closely modeled to, and quickly grew as rich as, the Sligs own language.
When he shared this new knowledge, it launched a new wave of trade and goodwill between the various Kalvrankinic, Kitabic, and Slig communities, as guardian constructs joined silver weapons as common defenses against a return of the mists.
The Black Peak of Reason
At last, the Parrot spoke.
"I am Slingid, God of the Sligs. I have come because I have realized that I alone cannot protect people from every threat. An entire Slig hive was recently ripped away and vanished by mysterious creatures coming from the mists. The Great Tree OGAM lurks in the deep places, and no one knows how or when it's mindless destructiveness will next manifest. Even the strange force that calls things to the deep is actively proselytizing and, though it seems benign, I know others of you do not trust it.
So, in desperation, I seek the counsel of my fellows. What is to be done?'

Spoiler: AP actions

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Starting AP 0+4

Legendary Society (as yet unnamed) 2 AP (shared with The Calling)
A Group of Slig Cultists convinced a Slig Queen to colonize Thirtha-Din, where she joined forces with the Seadrinkers in exchange for protection.
Evil (greed) 2/10

Mundane concept- Sign Language (artifact use)
Sligs and others learning this can communicate as fully with gestures as with speech.

Remaining AP 2

**Zelphas** · 2021-09-12, 09:33 PM (ISO 8601)

Thirtha-Din: The Beginning of Slin-Thirthu

The Seadrinkers had welcomed the arrival of the Sligs... in their own way. A whole race of creatures, all designed to serve another, all perfectly suited to obey unthinkingly the will of another... it was as though the answer to their problems had been delivered to them upon the finest of worked gold. The only problem at the moment was that the will that controlled the Sligs was not their own will, but that of another; how to suborn this will filled the thoughts of the Seadrinkers when their thirst did not overwhelm them, when they toiled in their mines and began to wonder if they needed to toil themselves at all.

And then, the one who owned the will of the Sligs came into their caverns herself. Truly, the Seadrinkers were exalted above all mortal creatures; just look at how their problems solved themselves, without their need to raise a finger in effort? Indeed, effort was for the lowly. This became the rule of the society that developed, but first:

The Queen's voice echoed and died in the caverns, only silence answering her... at first. Then, movement, vast movement, of something that barely fit within this grand cavern, a mass of bone and muscle and white, unblinking eyes. The Seadrinker stepped ponderously over to the Slig Queen, each step shaking the cavern they stood in. It moved without hesitance or concern, certain of its own power in the face of these puny things. It did not stop until it stood over the Slig Queen, its trunk waving slightly, its bulbous eyes boring into her face.

Then, one word reverberated in her mind. If the Seadrinkers could moderate their tone, the Sligs never learned it, for they always spoke in the mind of the queen in the same overwhelming tone.

What did the Seadrinker want?

WATER

There was more, of course. Eventually. But this was the first and greatest demand of the Seadrinkers to their new chattels, and it never faded in its intensity.

Spoiler: AP Actions

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0 AP + 4 AP = 4 AP

Create Legendary Society (Slin-Thirthu) -2 AP (Shared with Slingid): The Seadrinkers protect the Sligs, certainly; they defend their supply line as much as possible. But they become obsessed with the concept of sloth, of delegating all of their needs and work to others so that they may sit resplendent in their own depths. THe most powerful Seadrinker is the one that needs to do nothing at all, only wait to be watered and presented with great metal ores and ever deeper caverns to nest in. (Domain Progression: Society (Thralldom) 9/10)

4 AP - 2 AP = 2 AP Remaining

**zzzzzzzz414** · 2021-09-14, 02:44 AM (ISO 8601)

The Borametz Grove, North of Sailloch, Piedwald

Gellyr crossed her arms nervously as she slowly and cautiously trotted down the even dirt path. Her four companions lingered behind even more slowly, none of them eager to be in front. She couldn't really blame them. She'd heard many rather unsavory tales of the wood-eaters that dwelled here, and had fully expected to meet with some initial hostility and perhaps a bit of culture shock, but nothing like...this. The place had clearly been evacuated, and in a hurry; dropped tools and spilled carts had littered their approach, and they'd not yet found a single Slig; just unusual beasts trapped behind short walls of dead wood. (One of Gellyr's companions had suggested freeing the animals, as they appeared to have gotten stuck, but it was clear that these constructions had been made with purpose - best not to disturb them and risk making some sort of bad impression.) And then of course, there were the trees: stretching off in perfect rows all around them as far as the eye could see. She eyed the too-dead, too-clean landscape and wondered at its purpose. Had they been...trying to make a forest? If so, they were going about it quite incorrectly; the ground had been scoured of all the undergrowth that would normally support one, that would make this place into a living forest, rather than a sterile wooden labyrinth. Why, then? Gellyr pondered the stories again - the tales that said the creatures of the north ate wood as other beasts ate meat - and shivered.

Sensing her nervousness, her boar companion, Vyd, nuzzled her left hindquarter, and with a little chuckle Gellyr reached back to give them an obliging scratch behind the ears. And so, she was completely caught off-guard when the Slig jumped out in front of them with a shout, prompting her to instinctively reach for her sling and acorn-pouch before realizing what the stranger was. Her eyes brightened - a Slig, finally!

"Hello! I am known as Gellyr, and this is Vyd, my companion." she said in halting but clear Kitabic, indicating the large boar by her side. The others, drawing up closer, introduced themselves likewise, as well as the various beast companions at their sides or perched on their antlers. "We have come here on behalf of the Isle of Sailloch to the south, and the Five Forests, to greet your peoples, and hopefully to establish peace and good communication between us. Though, er, in truth, you are the first one we have met here!" she continued, rubbing one of her antlers awkwardly.

"Indeed." nodded Werrel, a dryad with two warthog-like legs and tusks to match. "Has there been some kind of disaster or attack here? We do not know what help we may be, especially if you are beset by the fog-walkers we have heard about, but we will render what aid we can."

"Also!" piped Ailwen, another bipedal dryad with short antlers, "We, ah, noticed there are quite a few animals stuck behind those big wooden constructions of yours? Do you, ah, need any help getting them out? They must be getting quite hungry and ornery at this point."

--

East of The Pyramid of the Sun, Anahuac, Cartisia

Viernan let out a gasp - partly of relief, partly of amazement - as xe finally mounted the last rocky ridge, revealing the valley below. Even with cloven goats' hooves, the journey had not been easy; the lands beyond their forest were even more treacherous than they were used to: great crumbling edifices of stone that shifted with the slightest provocation, spires of rock that threatened to impale those who made the slightest of mistakes, jagged mountains that demanded days-long detours to find safe passage between, a water crossing that had very nearly ended with them smashed to bits on the uncaring cliffs. And all through this, not one other living soul; Viernan had honestly begun to doubt that there was any other life upon this continent. But there the city was, plain as day: and what a city it was! It was difficult to make out from this distance, but they seemed to have built their own mountain with some kind of stone blocks.

"Well, let's hope its a little more, uh, welcoming than the last one." Moireann grumbled as they joined Viernan on the ridge. Viernan chuckled a little at that; a dry, cold and humorless thing, attempting in vain to dispel the pounding ice that xer companion's words had just flooded xer veins with. For truly, though the journey had been long and perilous, with many brushes with death along the way, absolutely nothing had even remotely compared to the fear that had gone through them at the scene they had stumbled upon just a few weeks prior: a village, entirely empty, but its streets and walls painted with dried blood.

Hoping for the best and preparing for the worst, Viernan hopped down onto the next ledge, descending towards the city below.

---

The Peak of Reason, Northern Abdita

Wyn and their companions had been some of the last to arrive at the meeting; for they were some of the only non-divine to make the journey, and the trip - as well as the climb up the great black mountain they had been told of - was long and arduous. They had introduced themselves as representatives of the Five Forests, and of OGAM. They nodded in agreement as Atticus-he-Speaks-For-Me said his piece and made his request, agreeing immediately to take one of the Utterers back to Fearnmag, and offering to bring volunteers back to the mountain to learn their ways. They seconded too, the notion put forth by Arkhos - that this could possibly be a place for all to come together in cooperation and growth; a place of peace and of life.

But when the great parrot spoke, that bright eagerness faded and soured. The five whispered among each other for a bit, and then one of them, Wyn, stood, their height and long gazelle-like horns cutting an impressive figure. They turned and stared directly into the eyes of the Grand Sawyer, indignation boiling in their sockets.

"We can assure you, honorable Slingid, and all others assembled, that neither OGAM nor the Five Forests desire the destruction of your people nor any other, save those who would stand opposed to the flourishing of life, or would destroy xer children. We would stand with those who cherish life, and wish to see creation grow and communicate. We have come here in peace and good faith, and we hope, honorable Slingid, that you would not turn a neutral concordance into a declaration of war."

Wyn's expression was impassive, but the tremor in their hands gave them away; they were clearly quite terrified to have spoken so defiantly to a being that could snuff them and their companions out in an instant if he wished. But such a brazen insult, directly to their faces, could not be permitted to stand - they could not call themself a true speaker for OGAM otherwise.

---

Due West of Fearnmag, Plains of Central Abdita

"HEY! HEY YOU THERE! HELLO! GREETINGS! HAIL!" Aithne galloped towards the lone figure resting beneath the similarly-lonesome acacia tree. She sincerely doubted that the figure spoke any Dryadic (in fact it was, uh, probably impossible, seeing as they were the ones supposed to be teaching dryadic), but she waved her hands in what she hoped was a friendly-looking manner. She was honestly excited to find something, anything more interesting than endless grass to talk to/at/about on their due westward journey. Not that her friends weren't great! But, you know, you did eventually run out of conversation topics. But now here was a new friend, maybe! The figure, with a yell and a start, stood and whirled to look at them and-

Oh.

Oh, uh, wow.

The two dozen questions and possible conversation starters spooling up in Aithne's head suddenly dropped into nothingness as she found herself staring at the single most captivating figure she'd ever seen. Her elegant features, the spark dancing in her eyes, the way the fire of her hair played and glinted off the knife pointed at them oh uh UH shoot right better do something about that!

Backing up several paces, Aithne continued to gesture wildly, attempting to make clear that she and her companions meant no harm.

---

South of Fearnmag, Deserts of Southern Abdita

Cerriduan knew ze did not belong here. Ze'd been assured otherwise, of course, but there was a very obvious reason ze'd been shipped out here despite scarcely having the magic to shift a daffodil, and that reason was that ze wasn't wanted there. Ze was too abraisive, too weird, too *much* for the others of her tribe to deal with; someone who could barely keep a handle on zer own emotions was much better suited to wandering the empty stretches of Abdita than to continuing to cause issues back in the forest, despite not being much well suited to *that* role either. Ze knew it, they knew it, and of course zer companions knew it, the four of them treating Cerriduan with something between pity and polite contempt. Seemed as though the damned bird was the only one who actually liked zer.

Speaking of the damned bird, Byrien alighted on one of zer bull-like horns, the raven turning and giving zer a meaningful look. He was back from his scouting flight sooner than normal. Much sooner, actually.

Turning to look in the direction he'd come from, Cerriduan squinted at the horizon, and was surprised to see the outlines of something sitting there. Hills? No, too regular. The shape, for some reason, reminded zer of an insect hive.

---

The Orchard of Kalvrankin, Piedwald

Gaoimhe drunk in the sight all around him with childlike wonder, eyes sparkling. He had heard tales of the shining-trees before, of course, had even held a piece of their gleaming bark, but those were a poor substitute indeed for the orchard of the skeleton-god himself, glittering in the midday sun. Some of his companions had expressed discomfort with the place, but not Gaoimhe. How could any not be fascinated by the sights of this place? How could they see this as anything but the greatest expression and fulfillment of the wish of OGAM; life made so resilient that even death could not stop it from growing and flourishing? There was so much to learn here, so many *possibilities*. For he had heard too, and had a few chances to observe for himself, the art that the beings of this place called "True Temper", the infusion of the magic and power of life into the flesh of the shining-trees, calling forth incredible powers of all kinds. And if that were to somehow be brought together with their own gifts, the art of Earthspeak...there was no telling what kind of amazing power might be brought forth.

Gaoimhe turned to the skeletal Atfal by his side, clapping his hands together with a grin that was both jubilant and very slightly concerning. "So! How does this all work, then?"

---

Within the unfathomable vastness of the mind of OGAM, there grew a dawning awareness of a great and unyielding pressure. A power, beyond even the scope of divinity.

For the first time in the entirety of his existence, in the canopy of FEARNA, who is OGAM, a single leaf began to change color.

Spoiler: TL;DR

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- Seeds-Upon-The-Wind arrive at Borametz farm, somewhat creeped out but offering help for the attack or disaster they have assumed must have happened.

- Seeds-Upon-The-Wind arrive at Pyramid of the Sun, rather concerned after stumbling upon one of the ruined eastern villages.

- Seeds-Upon-The-Wind are at peak of reason as reps of OGAM, agree with arah-huana and arkhos' words, agree to take on an Utterer and offer to send volunteers to join the Utterers themselves. One of them gives an indignant response to Slingid.

- Seeds-Upon-The-Wind chance upon Ember in the middle of a Nuarahan-bound journey. Try to make contact. One of the dryads is flustered.

- Seeds-Upon-The-Wind spot a Venuxi Hive

- Seeds-Upon-The-Wind visit the Orchard of Kalvrankin, one of them is very eager to learn how undead tree magic works and possibly do some Earthspeaking experiments.

- Foreshadowing

**canjowolf** · 2021-09-14, 07:07 PM (ISO 8601)

Setting: The Dream Garden

Blackleaf listened to Shadow's story. Troubling. Gardeners giving the keys of creation rather than the fruits of their efforts? How would that bind with need? They would be cast off like an old shell. Had the teachings failed? Fate would soon punish these rogues for their moral failings, but did Blackleaf need to intervene more directly? No, Blackleaf saw the shadow of another behind these actions. So, the alien beings had carried an alien god with them. Shadow would resolve the matter, and restore things to the proper way.

Setting: The Garden, Slig Landfall

Word had come on the wind. The animators had stayed long enough. They were no long guests or travelers in need of shelter. It was time to see what they had to offer. So it was that the priest and her cohort, in setting a table with fruit, also set an empty table apart from the others. Hungry and waiting.

Spoiler: AP

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Starting 7
None used

**KragBrightscale** · 2021-09-14, 09:42 PM (ISO 8601)

The Cult of the Receding Tide

As the Krillix empire expanded, there was enough of an outwards focus to avoid civil war for several generations. With warfare no longer claiming the lives of their best and brightest, islands started developing in directions other than war.

One island in particular, the one with a massive blue hole, stood apart from the others. They hadn’t participated actively in succession wars since Qrasnax, the first to receive the blessing of the deep, lost the very first battle against the neighboring island.

Without safe spawning pools and a lagoon to raise young, its population became limited to exiles, outcasts, hermits and others who left the rest of their own islands for various reasons.

Qrasnax had only just awakened his powers, and used to it send the previous warchief to the depths. Filled with confidence in his newfound powers he had lead the remains of the island’s troops to attack. Although Qrasnax wielded his powers to eliminate many warriors, his forces were far too outnumbered to back him up and were crushed, forcing the ambitious acolyte to escape.

Abandoning his plan to fight for the crown, Qrasnax built up his own organization in the dark, a cult that gained power through sacrifice to the depths. Based on the island of the hole, the Cult of the Receding Tide expanded secretly until they were large enough to be recognized by the crown.

Although some of the original members knew the true identity of the cult leader, that knowledge was eventually sent to the depths as the older generations succumbed to the call and fulfilled their destiny. Outliving all his peers, including the emperor, Qrasnax considered himself to be the true final victor. Countless sacrifices had been gathered and sent to the depths to sustain his life over the past decades. His powers had grown, yet the tug on his very being only grew stronger.

The deep was calling. Qrasnax knew he couldn’t resist the call much longer and often caught himself just staring into the deep blue. Others were picking up on this and started making moves to claim authority.

Desperate and wary of the elders who had taken over the cult and were likely scheming to toss him into the hole, he hid at the edge of the reef along with a few acolytes searching for a way out of the deal.

The end of Qrasnax and the Rise of the Kraken

Sacrifices were no longer enough to take his place in the deep, and the one who called was not to be denied. Eventually Qrasnax resorted to having his body bound by the acolytes to physically restrain his body that had already surrendered to the call.

Thinking it just another ritual, the acolytes followed his orders blindly, but the Qrasnax’s writhing an flailing limbs were a disturbing sight to behold. Months went by and even they could see that their master was nearing his time. His body had weakened from the constant struggle against his shackles, and his mind conquered by the desire to go to the depths.

In a rare moment of sanity, when the yearly tide was at its highest and the tug on his soul was momentarily weakened, Qrasnax called his acolytes and had them bring a young octopus that had been blessed with the potential to become a sea monster.

Qrasnax knew it was his last chance, and so did his acolytes. They understood what his plan was and were willing to help, because if their master found a way to circumvent the cost of being blessed by the deep, they too could hope to do the same in the future.

Touching the octopus with his hand, Qrasnax attempted the technique that the Sea Wraiths used to control sea monsters. Although there was a little resistance, using his eldritch powers he brute forced his way to success. Most members of the cult had stayed away from this ability due to obvious negative side effect.

Without being in full control of their own body, there was much less resisting the call to the deep. The few cultists who tried had their bodies dash towards the blue hole as soon as their spirit was transferred to the sea creature. Some lost their bodies that way and were doomed to stay a fish, others were lucky to have friends nearby to pin their rebellious bodies down until their could shift back into it and regain control.

Moving the eight limbs of his new body clumsily, Qrasnax signaled to indicate initial success. As the acolytes celebrated and considered what the next step would be, they were all surprised by the sudden outburst of shadow tentacles.

Qrasnax dodged backwards narrowly evading the few arms that targeted his new body. Watching in horror, he saw the eldritch powers he had received explode out of his body and consume the acolytes.

The tentacles dragging them kicking and screaming into the shadow before the cult leader’s Rekexi body slowly sank into it as well. Then there was silence. The deep had claimed its bounty with interest.

Gingerly groping the coral to get a better view, Qrasnax confirmed that all traces of himself and the acolytes had been forcefully summoned to the depths. Listening carefully, he realized that the call in his mind had changed. It was no longer a deafening roar that overpowered reason, it had returned to the subtle suggestions and fleeting thoughts that he used to have before he gained his powers.

Checking his abilities, he found them to be almost entirely gone. The majority of his magic had been bestowed, a loan that had now been returned. Now he was left with but a fraction of that magical energy, but his knowledge of how he I use it remained, and this power was truly his own.

It wasn’t enough to call forth destruction, and wreak havoc on those who opposed him, but speaking to the minds of others and other minor tricks were doable. Knowing this new body was still in its growth phase, he was not concerned with his lack of magic power, all that would come with time. This body was also powerful without it he noticed as he crushed some coral with his tentacle arm.

Grabbing his staff and a spare robe that had been kept in another room he made his way back to the cult. There were some cheeky upstarts that had been running the show while he was away. It was time to remind them who was in charge, and maybe time for a new title.

News would eventually circulate about the bloody reorganization of the Cult of the Receding Tide, and about the mysterious entity known only as the Kraken.

Spoiler: AP actions

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AP: 3 + 4 (from rollover)

Create Organization (Cult of the Receding Tide) -1 AP
Founded by Qrasnax, the first to be blessed by the deep in exchange for a sacrifice, the organization acknowledges the universal desire and need to defend to the depths. Providing funeral and battlefield cleanup services, the acolytes of the Cult send the bodies of the fallen to the depths. A valuable contributor to society, they also sponsor trash collection which they also sacrifice to the deep. Although they present a positive image to the public, there are rumors of them being behind a number of disappearances, and their older members have been spotted throwing themself into the deep seemingly at random.
War (Unification) 6/10

Raise Hero (The Kraken) -2 AP
Narrowly avoiding losing his life and being dragged to the depths, Qrasnax the founder of the Cult of the Receding Tide successfully possessed a juvenile giant octopus affected by the Sea Monster blessing. Losing his original body but retaining some of his magic, he has reconquered his cult. Using it to feed his growing body and power, his goals are still unclear.
Disaster (Sea Monsters) 8/10

AP remaining: 7 -1 -2 = 4

**bc56** · 2021-09-14, 11:51 PM (ISO 8601)

An Ember upon the Plains
Ember merely stopped to rest beneath a lone tree when the creature descended upon her, shouting strange sounds and waving its limbs at her.
She leapt to her feet and readied her knife, a simple iron weapon heavy in her hand. With this weapon and her power of fire, she had protected herself from monsters of fin and scale and tentacle through the long voyage to this land. She was ready to protect herself again.
But it backed away. And it looked different, soft and frightened, not a monstrous mountain of flesh and bone with only hunger in its eyes. She slid her dagger back to her simple rope belt, and barked once, a sound intended to mean peace. She didn't yet speak any language, let alone Dryadic; Rend and Right, her former masters, found it unnecessary to teach their creations to convey more than the simplest concepts. They believe actions speak louder than words.

**ezekielraiden** · 2021-09-15, 07:50 AM (ISO 8601)

Spoiler: The Arrivals

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Originally Posted by zzzzzzzz414

East of The Pyramid of the Sun, Anahuac, Cartisia

Viernan let out a gasp - partly of relief, partly of amazement - as xe finally mounted the last rocky ridge, revealing the valley below. Even with cloven goats' hooves, the journey had not been easy; the lands beyond their forest were even more treacherous than they were used to: great crumbling edifices of stone that shifted with the slightest provocation, spires of rock that threatened to impale those who made the slightest of mistakes, jagged mountains that demanded days-long detours to find safe passage between, a water crossing that had very nearly ended with them smashed to bits on the uncaring cliffs. And all through this, not one other living soul; Viernan had honestly begun to doubt that there was any other life upon this continent. But there the city was, plain as day: and what a city it was! It was difficult to make out from this distance, but they seemed to have built their own mountain with some kind of stone blocks.

"Well, let's hope its a little more, uh, welcoming than the last one." Moireann grumbled as they joined Viernan on the ridge. Viernan chuckled a little at that; a dry, cold and humorless thing, attempting in vain to dispel the pounding ice that xer companion's words had just flooded xer veins with. For truly, though the journey had been long and perilous, with many brushes with death along the way, absolutely nothing had even remotely compared to the fear that had gone through them at the scene they had stumbled upon just a few weeks prior: a village, entirely empty, but its streets and walls painted with dried blood.

Hoping for the best and preparing for the worst, Viernan hopped down onto the next ledge, descending towards the city below.

Green Grow the Rushes, O!

Tollan, the city-heart of the Quetzpal'in, bustled with the ordinary business of daily life. Food and goods exchanged, the clip-clop of mazatl hooves on the paving-stones, insects buzzing through the season's flowers that lazily unfurled from balconies down to the street. The people were bouncing back, but such things take time. The refugees from the eastern villages had been rehomed, some staying in the Pyramid of the Sun and others finding shelter among the citizens of Tollan who had opened heart and home to the survivors.

The villages and fields themselves would be reclaimed, in time, but the order of the day had been healing--and adapting to the new gifts their Father had given them. Though the fury of the Black Sun had been terrible and frightening, these new gifts had already begun to transform their society--milk products were now regularly available, and the first mazatl-riders had begun learning how to leverage the great beasts for speed and endurance over long travels. The mood was somber, but tinged more with hope than grief; they would learn how to prevent such atrocities, in time, and Arkhos would provide his protection. Some of the survivors still had a seed of doubt, but with Arkhos so clearly desiring justice and vengeance for the lost, the soil was not friendly to such seeds.

The priestess of Arkhos, now called Tonalli, walked the streets of Tollan and did as she could to work with the people. They did not need another looming power looking down from on high; Arkhos was more than sufficient for that. They needed comfort, reassurance, the reminder that, though the night was dark, the Sun would rise again, and that only effort and will could raise them back up, taller than before.

During these weeks of healing and rebuilding and learning, Tonalli had been spending much of her free time, what she had at least, meditating among the trees before dawn or after dusk. This new blessing had intrigued her, coming as it did from Arkhos' desire for a higher path even amidst the flames of divine war. She had always loved the trees, even as a hatchling. They were of course the ladder by which her people had found enlightenment, but they were also paragons of patience and adaptation, and generous with gifts of food and flower and shade, asking so little in return.

This new blessing...it could not let her speak to these trees, for they were only trees. Alive, most certainly. Yet their awareness, so thin and light, was beyond her reach, like a diaphanous wisp of cloud. Some day, when her people had traveled beyond the confines of Ahanuac and come to the great forests of the wider world, they would meet beings who were both Trees and More-Than-Trees, and then this gift would bear fruit. They would speak as equals. But for now? For now, she could listen, and that would be the road to understanding.

"Priestess!" Some clamorous voice broke her reverie.

"What is it? What has you gasping and gusting?"

"My...my apologies, Priestess. All the leaders have...have been asked to come, together. It is the time of prophecy!"

She responded as any good theologian would: "Which prophecy?"

"The children of the forest! They have come to us."

Tonalli immediately turned toward the direction the messenger pointed, but to his surprise, she also grabbed his arm. "I must know more before I join them. Tell me what you know as we walk."

"B-but Priestess, I--" he stammered, caught completely off guard by this response.

"You have either seen what I have not, or been told what others have seen. Either way, I must know all you know. We have already suffered one tragedy. I will not permit another when our Father has prepared us for joy."

For These Trees Do Have Tongues

Thankfully, the guards had been well appraised about the nightmare that struck the East. They knew the signs. No mist, no shard-spiders, no ice-cold raiders. These strange wanderers were safe. The guards were still cautious. But Arkhos had prepared them to meet the children of the Forest, that they might avert the disaster that befell other mortals. Even so freshly wounded by outsiders, the Quetzpal'in offered the hand of friendship.

The guard-captain, Huitzilin, dismounted his mazatl and rejoined the assembled leadership of Tollan. "Our guests seem comfortable. It was wise, High Gardener, to send them to the Tranquil Waters. They seemed rather pleased with the trees and flowers you have cultivated there."

The elder Quetzpal'in smiled. "Given their look, I had hoped so. Any progress?"

Huitzilin shook his head. "Sadly, their speech eludes us. They tried other things too. Drawing in the dirt. Gestures with their hands. It may be several days."

Tonalli swept into the meeting room, her drafted assistant looking most beleaguered. "I think I can be of help there. I have begun to practice the Language of the Forest. I doubt I am anything like fluent, but it is a start."

The Stonemistress nodded. "It will have to do, at least for now. The hand of friendship must be offered, if we are to have any foundation to stand on. And as you are Arkhos' chosen, it makes sense you would be his Voice."

Let us hope the leaf can sing to the forest, Tonalli thought to herself, as she nodded to the Stonemistress. Though she had gained much standing from her direct interaction with the Dawnbringer, she knew that courage was not an absence of fear, but acting despite it. So she proceeded, not with swaggering confidence, but the determined step of one who has fear as a walking companion.

The Tranquil Waters were a set of artificial pools and stone structures built around a set of particularly beautiful natural trees, which had been preserved in-place due to their unique, heavily-spiraled shape. Fragrant flowers in pink and orange and blue hung from carefully-grown vines, and purple-white blossoms and pads floated in the clean waters of the pools. A bridge spanned the small, artificial creek, fed by waters diverted from the nearby river via aqueduct. The wood for the bridge had come from the handful of trees that could not be kept in the garden, either for safety or for construction; each had been honored for its gifts, and for those able to seed, two saplings grown elsewhere nearby. On the far side of the creek, the dryads awaited, one sitting on a stone bench, another standing to admire a cluster of flowers spilling from one of the spiral trees.

Tonalli braced herself and crossed the bridge, approaching the strangers. Summoning up all she knew of the Forest, she spoke, though it would be hard for anyone to call what she said "words" in the usual sense.

The rustle and shift of leaves as the morning Sun shines down on them, waking them from the night's torpor and drawing away the veil of morning dew. The first crack of a nutshell, as the infant tree within took its first, tentative step toward the vast and ponderous estate it would become. The susurrating sigh of boughs shifting under new and unexpected winds. And finally, the ancient, ancient creaking of Wood that was older than Land itself. In an exceedingly loose translation fit for normal language, and somewhat less clumsy than the actual meaning of her first attempt at the Language of the Forest, she said, "[I greet you as the Morning greets the leaves. Today is a momentous day; this is the first seed of our friendship. What brings you to us now, Children of the Old Wood?]"

**MrAbdiel** · 2021-09-15, 08:43 AM (ISO 8601)

Historians, should there happen to be any, will look back on the period with head-scratching wonder. Explanations will be offered that range from insufficient to fantastical; and some will get close. But however unknown the cause, the effect is well documented. The mortal races of the first world, ravaged by losses, experience a fertility boom that demands expansion and development of new techniques to support a growing population in homelands, and colonies.

Briefly turning aside from the conversation of deities, Atticus-He-Speaks-For-Me experiences a flutter of the eyes, a moment's vision, and a tense smile as he worries for the movements of his god's plan. He mumbles, mostly to himself.

"So be it, then. Go forth, and multiply."

Spoiler: AP Action

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Blessing of Fertility 0AP (Discounted by the Perdition Sluice)

Arah-Huana adjusts the returning flow of soul energy into the world to a heavy rush to the lesser peoples of the first world. All Racial Life (but not Legendary life) on the First World (but not outside the First World) experience a demographic boom over the next generation. Any given society may diffuse this increase in children/spawn/seeds in whatever way seems most natural, be it an uptick in colonies, a replenishment of ravaged city centres, or a mostly ignored wave of second, third, and fourth children heading off into the world in groups to find adventure.

**moonfly7** · 2021-09-15, 10:42 AM (ISO 8601)

Common Ground

Kalvrankin stepped forward with a gentle touch and interceded between the coming argument between god and dryad. He did not like that his friends were not friends, but he knew that the parrots hatred of the trees ran deep, and that Ogam while not as vile a being as He painted it, was still something beyond their understanding in terms of thought.

"Calm, friends. Now is a time of peace and diplomacy, not rage and pregidous. I do not expect either you Slingid, or you speaker for Ogam, to become friends or allies. But I would hope you will be willing to put aside your problems and fears of what might come, and face a larger looming one, one touched on by friend Maktub and Slingid already. The Calling is here. I know you've all felt it. that itch that pulls you deeper, that thing that wants us all sunk to it's level. As much as my people fear the mists and the pain they bring, they fear the depths most of all. Because in the mists their spirits still come home and can mingle with each other in the end in peace. But lose yourself to the depths and not even their god can promise them a good death. Only cold. And Dark.

He turns and his eyeless gaze sweeps the room, boring into everyone present.

"I beg all of you, despite our differneces, despite our personal hatreds or feuds, do not shatter each other. Our people may war against one another on the first world. Thye might kill and ravage one anothe rand that will rightly cause us to hate them and their creator. This I understand. But the Calling does worse, it takes from us permanently, and it seeks to devour the entire world, and everything in it and apart from it. Being not of this mortal plane will not save your people. Nor will allegiance to it. We must unite, to fight this cancer eating at us before it is too late. It infects our people and their minds already, my friends, and by doing nothing were all accomplices in their demise.

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

The Journey Begins

The Brave Eleven, as they became known, set out on their holy mission to share the message and art of their people. Their first stop was the Garden, here they began the procedure they would repeat with every subsequent visit: Mold from the living Tree-Brass of the boat a smaller dingy, and then send the Two Chosen amabassadors out in it, wishing them well as they make landfall even as the large Brass vessel, now slightly smaller, continues it's journey.

For their second stop, they did release yet another pair of two onto the thin ring shaped mass of Cartisia, though with little hope of much being found there, but they would search most unreservedly along the spindly circular landmass.

Next, it t'was onward to Abdita, though that journey would take much longer for the still mighty sized vesel.

They did not fear losing their way on this long journey though, though it might take them many years. For each of them held a small box with a free spinning needle, as did each member of the Circle now. This compass did not point north or south, but held a needle of bronze which pointed home. To the orchard. It was from this that all their navigation was based, and their assuredy in their return set in stone.

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

The Orchard's Welcome

It was a blessing to recieve such visitors as the dryads in the Orchard! And indeed there was still much celebration and praise over their staying with them, which had been overwhelming to a few of them. And indeed most of them were overwhelmed by everything about the orchard. But one understood, and he had questions! That was the Circles favorite thing, when others truly yearned for the knowledge they held.

"It is quite simple friend Gaoimhe! Would you like us to show you our arts as you have shared yours?" a Friendly undead Atfall by the name of He-Who-Teaches or simply Who-Teaches asked.

"The Undead Orchard itself is a beautiful and mysterious thing I'm afraid, so much cannot truly be taught of it. When our Lord made it, you see, there were no living metal trees as there are now. All of these were inspired by our lords great undead forest of shining brilliance. And, I think, non quite match their beauty. And even now they still hold a spark of Kal's divine power. They ahve given us much of their own will. Bronze that does not tarnish or break, Hot Silver to ward away foes, the needle that forever points home. The trees give much. They also give us our metals, and now with your Speech of the Earth we might actually talk with our long time friends! Is it not exciting?"

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

The Gloam

Even as Kalvrankin still spake at the Black Peak, his agreed upon work was being done in the wending. A place was forming their, of beautiful metals hollows and strange colored lights.

the Gloam is a beautiful open plane with low light, like that of dusk, and softly glowing long grasses swaying in a warm breeze in the west. A babbling brook of a soft glowing turquoise winds throughout the plane. In the center of the gloam, on a small hill, is a grove of trees not unlike his mortal orchard, with trees made of softly glowing and oddly beautiful bone. A table sits in the middle of the orchards impressive clearing, places set for all who wish to dine with Kalvrankin when he is present.

Beautiful but silent lightning flashes softly across the bright star filled sky.

In the south of the Gloam lies a firefly filled orchard of oaks and pines, all of beautifuly tarnished copper and bronze, with gently pulsing orange lightning bugs and chirping of bronze crickets in the light. Here there are no huts or dwellings like in the orchards, but those who stay sleep under the stars and live with Skeletal animals in happy harmony.

In the east a beautiful soft blue sanded beach with dark waves lapping the shore. SMall huts dot this landscape, and many relax in the beautifuly warm waves.

In the North East, their stands beautiful dark purple peaks of mountains, whose rich caves high above the ground house those of Kals people who like a bit of silence and a nice view in their Final Story.
And even further north their lies a place where the snow flurries a soft gold and the temperatures are perfectly cool, where undead make homes in richly colored igloos, and laugh in the wondeful never-melting landscape.

But even in this perfect place, in this happy and beautiful creation, there is turmoil. Something lurches from the void, bridging the gap from the place of nothing and into the Gloam. It's footprints mar the grass in the planes and where it walks will never regrow. Kals form shakes at the power and rage of this thing, but even as his consciousness stands to meet it, it is gone, tearing it's way from the wending and into the world. Leaving only the whisper of it's name on the wind, and terror in the heart of the skeleton god. For he now knew a single, terrifying truth:

The Gloamer walks among us

Spoiler: AP Actions

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Bless(All Needles Point Home)(0AP because artifact): A bronze needle, or a needle of any metal, when suspended in a free moving environment, will point towards the orchard. All compasses point towards the Undead Orchard, not north.

Alter Land(The Gloam) 1 AP: The Gloam is a place in the wending for the spirits of all Undead should they choose to reside their, and the spirits of Kals followers, even those only once dead. It is a beautiful but alien place, and is visited quite often by the Skeleton god himself, who loves to dine with his fallen people. Life(Undeath 10/10) Domain Aquired!

Create Hero(The Gloamer) 2 AP: A strange, eldritch mind that has used the Gloam as a bridge into the world. This entity is born of the Void, and it's goals and deisres are alien and unknown. It requires a host body to exist on the First world, and demonstartes parasitic/Symbiotic patterns and abilities. The gloamer is hard to describ in physical appearance, normally it inhabits a mortal creature, anything from a squirrel to a Sauropod, and when it does it is normal. But when the Gloamer takes control, it transforms it's host. Strange sickly green energy forms around the host and lifts it off the ground, forming a strange almost reptillian body and a 6 socketed, T-rex like skull out of this strange glowing energy(may or may not be pure soul energy), the host body dangles from center of the beast, the hosts head and shoulders are inside, the rest of it's limp body hangs out like a lifeless doll. 6 tentacles, two of Bone, two of Blood, and two of muscle sprout from the hosts back and hold this terrifying mosntrosity aloft. The Gloamer seeks to devour Unique(Mythical concepts, subconcepts, and mythical lufe, as well as creatures with Bless's on them) and from doing so it gains more power. Change(Rebirth)(5/10)

6-3=3

AP total=3

**Kinro** · 2021-09-15, 08:48 PM (ISO 8601)

As the sauropods grew more numerous, tribes growing until they split and spread across their large island in small, but thunderous herds, the heard leader found that, more and more, it was difficult to maintain communication between the herds. News from loved one who had left for distant herds were becoming more and more difficult to receive, as well as coordination between the herds to avoid two seeking the same grazing spot, for example, becoming more difficult. And so, the herd leaders petitioned Valnas, who, int turn, granted them the gift of knowledge of magics which could allow a properly trained sauropods to send their thoughts across vast distances.

And as they trained and learned, the new sauropod thought mages thought of something else, some other power. They could communicate through distance now, but what of time? Thing, they researched on their own and found that there existed items of great mythical importance, places, trees, rocks especially. Into those, they could umbie a single thought-image, to be read later by any who could understand its workings.

Spoiler: AP

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Rollover
5 + 4 = 9

Create Mythic Subconcept (Long distance telepathy)

Special magics which allow those already possessed of telepathy to use them across great distances. These can only be used to communicate with one who has similarly been trained and with whom the user is familiar.

9 - 2 = 7

Create Mythic Subconcept (Leypoints)

Places or objects which have accumulated a significant amount of mana and can be used to empower or maintain certain kinds of long lasting spell. Their formation is difficult to predict and they can rarely be moved without losing all of the stored power.

7 - 2 = 5

Create Mythic Subconcept (Thought Stones)

A leypoint imbued with a single thought-image, which is the basic unit of the highly compressed, unique thought language of the sauropods. Any thought mage can create one, provided a leypoint, read one or enhance an existing one to keep it clear.

5 - 2 = 3

**Zelphas** · 2021-09-15, 09:55 PM (ISO 8601)

In the Deeps

They weren't going up or down.

Deep within its crack in the sea, the thing known as the Calling was becoming overwhelmed by the realization that other bits of reality existed, and that things were going there. What's worse, it couldn't tell of those other bits of reality were up or down, and that couldn't be. Everything was either down, which is right, or up, which is wrong.

In the midst of this confusion, a few motes of things in motion caught its notice. Distractedly, it sent results to fix them, not paying much attention to the results. They would work as they worked; this matter of up and down was much more important.

Unnoticed by the Calling, its consternation affected its call, the note of confusion making itself known among many mortal beings.

In the Caves of Thirtha-Din

The small, faintly glowing purple mushrooms appeared seemingly overnight and spread slowly, giving a weird eldritch cast to the caves now being mined by the Seadrinkers and their Sligs. The Seadrinkers recognized the growths as things from the same being that made them, and so let them be, sometimes even offering food that served no purpose to them. Sometimes, the mushrooms seemed to move much more than an ordinary non-animal should be able to, but no one was sure of that until the event came that changed them.

Under the Ship of the Brave Eleven

The Brass Boat was leaking.

It shouldn't be possible: it was a smooth sheet of metal, without seam or pore, where could it leak? And yet, the seawater sloshing around the bottom of the ship proved this assumption wrong, and so did the small holes that sometimes appeared at the bottom of the boat without warning. The holes were easily patched, but they kept reappearing. Finally, one of the Brave Eleven grew tired of the mystery and widened a hole instead of removing it, risking the introduction of more water in order to see what was beneath.

They found a strangely gelatinous mass of dull orange, looking almost like brass when it had tarnished. The mass quivered in response to the sudden loss of metal, and then contracted, spitting out a sizzling mass of acid that would have seriously harmed a fleshy creature but did little more than lightly score the bone of the surprised skeleton. Its purchase on the bottom of the boat suddenly gone, the creature sank rapidly into the sea and out of sight... but a hint of movement before the skeleton was forced to close the hole told them that it had not been alone.

Elsewhere, on water and on land, bits of metal (especially enchanted metal) left unattended began to go missing, and stories began to be told of weird fluid-like monsters that hungered for metal and used it as armor for themselves.

Spoiler: AP Actions

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2 AP

Curse (Vertigo) -0 AP (The Pit of Hunger): Shocked by the fact that there are places which are neither up nor down in relation to other places, the Calling's Call has temporarily changed to reflect its confusion. Mortals that are still effected by the call for roughly five generations are struck by feelings of intense dizziness and confusion, being unable to tell down from up. This strikes especially at great heights and great depths, leading to an increase of deaths from falling and becoming lost underground.

Create Race (Thallids) -1 AP (Shared with Slingid): The Calling's distracted effort has create a clump of fungus that are individually barely at animal-level intelligence, but possess a low-level telepathic connection to all others of their race that allow them to operate at much higher capacity when clumped together. At the moment, they're just fungus, waiting for something to cling to and use... (Domain Progression: Society (Thralldom) 10/10)

Create Monstrous Life (Brass Woolies) -1 AP: Brass Woolies can live anywhere with abundant moisture and metal, meaning that they teem along seashores and within watery caves especially. They eat any sort of metal they can come into contact with, though copper and zinc seem to be their favorite foods. Refined metal is even tastier to them than metal ore, and True Tempered metal is tastier still. Brass Woolies incorporate the metal they eat into a sort of fluid shell around their bodies for protection, though they don't seem to gain the magic effects of the True Tempered metals they eat. They generally avoid contact with other creatures, though they react with a burst of nasty acid to threats and can grow very large thanks to the ancient blessing. (Domain Progression: Decay (Patience) 1/10)

2 AP - 2 AP = 0 AP Remaining

**Razade** · 2021-09-16, 03:52 AM (ISO 8601)

Kittess Libations

As naturally curious beings, the Kittess Conclaves spent much of their time with their magic and their slow march of civilization simply putting things together and seeing what worked. Often this was disastrous, creating dangerous chemicals and scarring toe and hand beans aplenty. So of course, the Kittess set out to heal these wounds. After, more, careful consideration and work they came upon large natural springs high in their mountains that had dissolved the plentiful magical gems and rocks. Soaking in these ponds seemed to do all sorts of interesting effects but sadly you had to wade into them. The Kittess, not fond of water as most cats, devised a plan. In drinking skins they would combine these waters with more gems, empowering their effects. The end result was a fizzy drink that could heal burned beans and upset stomachs and all other sorts of maladies. The Kittess had created alchemy of a sort. Also soda.

The Wellspring

Still in that space far above the many islands now linked across the great roots of the planar tree The Deluge stormed and raged. Lightning struck the waters and waves, screeching with steam and blasting apart islands. In the wake of this mighty storm, those that would uphold the Law arose for in this time only the many planar fish and beasts roamed where The Deluge raged. The Azure, beings of crystalized mana, moved through air and sea, their forms sleek and cutting. Some, the first and oldest, were the size of islands themselves and many could hold civilizations upon their back.

Spoiler: AP

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AP 1 +4 = 5

Create Mythic Concept (Alchemy) -2AP: The Kittess, with natural spring water and the many magical rocks and stones that pepper their islands, have created a form of potion brewing they call Libations. This is a part of Alchemy and while they also use plants and naturally existing materials, their powerful tonics and fizzy sodas are the true strength of their craft. [Beauty (Gems) 5/10]

Create Legendary Life (The Azure) - 3AP: The Azure are a naturally occurring race within the Wellspring created by the Deluge to protect the liminal space. They appear as giant whale like creatures that can swim and fly with equal easy. They are possessed of powerful magical energies as they are formed from pure crystalized mana also known as The Azure. They are intelligent, can communicate among themselves anywhere within the Wellspring and can teleport so long as they are on the Wellspring.[Beauty (Gems) 8/10]

**Feathersnow** · 2021-09-16, 05:55 AM (ISO 8601)

Slingid

At the Black Peaks of Reason

Slingid was appalled. Cultists, no... demonic emmanations, of the Great Tree were here! The idea that the Monster who unwittingly birthed the land might have a mind and interests was anathema to every single particle of Slingid's being. These.. dryads... were surely nihilists. Yes. They sought to bring the First World to mindless stasis, interrupted only by the vegetable increase of their demiurge.

Slingid was flustered at how best to explain this obvious truth to the other divinities. But then he was cut off by his old ally, Kalvrankin. The Skeleton God sought an alliance against the other demiurge that lurked at the base of the world.

Not too long ago, Slingid thought this fear of gravity was a derangement affecting the otherwise reasonable Kalvrankin. But now, a hive had gone dark. She-Who-Is-Ever-A-Part could still feel them, but they were... distant somehow. And it was obvious the Worshippers of Gravity in Ytrel Cadre and the Osedaxi that they consulted were behind it.

Slingid was not a jealous or overprotective deity, but this poaching of one of his precious Queens irked him, even if she were not coerced. But her fellows were truly alarmed.. .

The Queens considered sanctioning Ytrel cadre... but they were too great a resource. They alone knew the secret of awakening magic in adults, and She-Who-Is-Ever-A-Part dared not pry that from them to gift another cadre. Such interference would be a precedent that might throw every cadre into revolt across the Core Hive.

So, reluctantly, he agreed the nihilistic cacodaemons that called themselves "Dryads" were the enemies of his enemy. He kept mum, and perhaps his silence and set, avian features were taken for being abashed.

The Borametz Grove

Resh'Carb looked at the tree monster. He just stared. Through his eyes, his Queen stared, too. Through her, She-Who-Is-Ever-A-Part stared.

"You... you... mean no harm? You seek... to help!?"

The idea, as stated, made no sense. Clearly they didn't understand the idea of fences holding livestock, he thought, but that was just an oddity. The main point was... they were trees! Walking, talking trees! Surely such abominations meant to destroy and revenge and devour!

But they didn't seem hostile. Maybe it was a trick, but he had doubts. He tried something. He was the smartest and bravest of those sent to establish this hive, and his judgement was considered second only to the Queen.

"Please, you scare us! Our God warned us that a great monster created this world and seeks to consume Xer creation in the darkness of infinite trees. That only by fighting the land can we hope to survive. But you say there is another way. You a say that we can have a peace.

Set your selves outside of our village. We will send a cadre to you, to learn from you if you have anything worth knowing and to keep you protected from predators. If they can cohabitate with you safely, we may learn to fear you less.

If you cannot accept these terms, you may leave in peace"

The Garden

The Sligs realized that the Gardeners wanted... something. And they didn't know how to respond. Many were indignant, and considered ignoring them, or even attacking.

But the Queen counseled that they give as deep as they could. They owed much, and attacking them would cast a long shadow, even were it justified, and it truly was not.

She told one of her workers to try to tell the Gardeners to come back in three days.

The hive worked tirelessly, without sleep that three days. They harvested as much as they dared from their most precious resource- the Zipratoo and Cupratoo Gingkos.

From the leaves of the Copper Tree, they made knives, and their only Truesmith made a giant metal shell that, when triggered, sang a great Saga.

With the Zinc, he empowered tiny, whittled wood legs to carry pots, and he made a heart. Then, tapping their precious store of Tumbaga, he made two hands and two eyes.

The other Sligs made fine things of wood and ceramic, and painted them beautifully.

On the third day, the Queen herself led the procession to meet the Gardners, flanked by sculptures of animated smoke, burnt from the incense they had learned of from their hosts.

The Queen gestured and a swarm of pots and jars came forth, held and moved by carven legs much like those of the Sligs themselves, the enchantments given longevity by the power of Zinc nails incorporated into them.

Bowls carried the incense made from the flowers, or food, or other things the Gardeners already had, or knew of. These were first.

Then came fine tools of stone in wooden barrels, finely made by Slig coppers, though their supply of wood was low.

Finally pots and jars. First jars of feathers. Then... a few precious copper knives in ceramic cooking pots. These had ceramic legs, so they could sit on fires, and the zinc empowering them was affixed in the eyes of the paintings that adorned them.

At last, though, was the Golem. It had golden eyes and hands, but otherwise, it resembled a giant gardner. Its left hand played a memory of making pots, its right a memory of curing incense to increase its potency and preserve the power of the flowers. The left eye held a memory of the Slig Core Hive, the Right a memory of the First Meeting of Slig and Gardner. The Zinc heart that empowered the construct was buried in the clay of its flesh.

These were dead simple constructs, and would follow only the direction of going where pointed, but... they were not nothing.

The Queen, for the first time since landfall, spoke directly, though the Gardeners did not yet speak her language, nor know how rarely her ilk deigned use language.

"THANK YOU"

Slin-Thirthu
The Sligs took a while to notice the mushrooms. They were edible... but barely. They were too soft to make anything from. But there was a lot of them.

A Slig wizard was clearing rocks when he realized the mound of mushrooms was getting in his way. So he animated it to make it move itself. And... the spell reacted! The mushroom stayed animated and even seemed to react! So, obviously, The wizard started animating more mushrooms and making them haul rocks...

Spoiler: AP Actions

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Starting 2

Create racial life- Thallids (shared with The Calling) 1 AP
These fungoid creatures have a crude intelligence and little sense of self. The Sligs of Slin-Thirthu use them for brute labor.

society (pioneering) 10/10

Remaining 1

**MrAbdiel** · 2021-09-16, 06:11 AM (ISO 8601)

The Black Peak

The Prophet of Arah-Huana gave contemplation to the words of the assembled; gave room for them to react to each other, to establish where they stood. When a window came to speak, he bowed again, low at the waist, and spoke.

"Kalvrankin, Lord of Undeath, speaks truly. There is an illicit thing, which calls; though we know it only through its perverse echoes. We may not know more of it until the time has come to send some to seek it. Yet there are others in this world; those in far places whose experience with this echo may be instructive. With care, there may be accomplished things for which haste would yield only loss. This is my word, the word of Atticus, and none higher: it is better to muster forces and secure young peoples now, than to provoke to armament a quiet - if real - enemy."

Then his faint smile fades, and his eyes flutter, and he speaks again. "As for the Wending, and your death-in-life, what there is between you, and my god Arah-Huana, this is what my god says: I will not, on this mountain I have raised up for candor and accord, speak in deception to you. I do not like your creations. What you call another step on the path of life and death is a crooked track before my eyes; a breach of a thing so briefly complete, and whole. I do not give you freedom to offer this blessing to the Nechustani.

But I also say this: while you have woven a wicked thing my eyes, my sight is not without proportion, and I know you do not have a heart of wickedness. I will not make war on your people with my people. I will not forbid my Utterers from accepting your hospitality, or giving your people the same. I will not recoil from your voice in petition for accord. And while I loathe with all my loathing the scarring on the order of spirits which you call Undeath, I will not deny those spirits who have walked that crooked track the paradise you desire for them. Make your claim in the Savannah, within the Wending; and there may the spirits of your crooked-track-walkers dwell forever.

The words spoken, the prophet offered what might be thought an apologetic smile, and a bow.

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

The Wending

Arah-Huana did loath that crooked track. Yet there were things he loathed more; and he would brook many imperfections in his vision for the sprawl of eternity to see those threats blunted, and co-operation was a step in that direction.

Another such step was armament.

Yet he did not undertake such an effort within his own power. There, in a realm unwholesomely twisted into the fires of the Arroyo, the twinned-gods warped and bent and reshaped spirits, dispatching them into the world on another crooked path deviation of the greater plan. Yet this deviation he also indulged, and with it struck a pact - a portion of the fiery gods' wisdom on the perfection of their craft, in exchange for his ambivalence to their twisting his plan - and a future service in which the Godfather would lend his power in repayed support.

From this pact came a new thing, partnered to the Perdition Sluice. Cults would come to call her many things, but the enduring title was the Midwife of Blades. She is depicted warm and deeply feminine figure, cradling in her arms a swaddling cloth upon which is laid a sword, around which winds the serpentine presence of Arah-Huana. And with his blessing, the Midwife delivered the first weapon of many, in service of the Carnifex and his burgeoning alliance: Hakkanon, The Reaving Wind, the First Fang of Arah-Huana. It would be the most beautiful thing Navara-Trades-In-Flesh would behold in her life.

Spoiler: AP Spends!

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4 Points (+1 From Rend and Right) - Create Greater Utility Artifact: The Midwife of Blades

The Midwife of Blades is not a genuine deity, but a matrix of creative energies into which Arah-Huana feeds surplus from the Perdition Sluice. The intelligence within communicates his divine will into a singular expression distilled first as a True Name, and then as the physical shape of that true name. In effect, it is a Greater Utility Artifact that offers its discount to the production of Lesser Combat Artifacts.

Excellence (Heroes) 10/10!

2 Points (Discounted by the Midwife of Blades) - Create Lesser Combat Artifact: Hakkanon, The Reaving Wind, the First Fang of Arah-Huana

Hakkanon takes the form of a long metal shaft with curved, tapering blade at one end; a kind of stylized naginata whose blade resembles a snake's fang. The metal is not an earthly substance, and is not replicable by any source outside of a divinity using the Midwife of Blades. Its greater form is largely indestructible, but it can be blunted and bent if misused or deliberately damaged. However, exposure to blood, ichor, or the corresponding vital physical elements of creatures causes the blade to regenerate rapidly to its original glory, and to become murderously sharp once again. Its additional mysteries remain to be discovered; but for now, to a woman who has principally used stone axes and knives made of volcanic glass, the weapon is a watershed in the field of bloodshed. It's almost a shame that it comes with specific instruction to be used in the furtherance of alliances.

Reason (Diplomacy) 6/10.

**Breitheamh** · 2021-09-16, 01:01 PM (ISO 8601)

Maktub listened to their fellow divinities at the peak, their piece spoken, their Hope that peace would reign among all that spoke here. But their mind was elsewhere...

To speak of enemies felt in large part anathema to this deity of Hope and Abundance. There should be enough in the First World for all to enjoy and be fruitful and content. Their children thrived on this notion, that there is always enough...to share, to give, to enjoy. Even the one Who-Believes, who had stood so defiantly and would have sparked the first war that the Children of the Story might ever have experienced in his zeal, had learned this lesson so perfectly, so faithfully, and so courageously, and now put his life in the hands of the beings who had created such tragedy on Piedwald and slaughtered so many in needless violence.

Maktub could not be prouder of their children growing up so strong, and so they wondered...

This Calling, that ripped Souls from the Ever-Flow of creation... was it... an enemy...?

Maktub had been the first to voice concern at the Black Peak, but were they wrong in this matter? If this Story were to truly be Good, how would it end...? Was this Calling the one who would close the final page and utter the last moment to bring the Story to a beautiful end?

The god who brought Philosophy to their Children pondered these things, wondering at their own divine nature, and what the Story beyond theirself may be... Does God serve a greater purpose?

As the Story pondered its own meaning and existence, the philosophies and understandings and interpretations of Creation were naturally attracted to this flow of knowledge, funneling through Maktub's mind and becoming something more tangible, though not quite in the grasp of mortal mind. The knowledge cut a channel through the Wellspring, and became a place of sweet remembrance to Maktub, the first place they had stepped foot and felt the cool of the day kiss their face and the smell of the moist earth scrunch between their toes as it tickled their nose.

A Forest sprung from the roiling of the Wellspring, its trees tall and strong, wide of branch and thick of foliage. Willows and pines covered the undergrowth in soft darkness, and life teemed among the boughs and thickets. To those who were there in the beginning, the Forest mirrors the ancient one that covered Piedwald, when only the Children of OGAM made their mark on the First World. Every piece of understanding, every inscrutable truth, every fountain of knowledge that comes with a new paradigm, every secret that may one day be told, has found its way here, to the Forest of Truth. To be found, to be searched for, to be uncovered, and to be cherished.

Spoiler: AP Allocation

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5 to start
-3 Weave Plane: The Forest of Truth Life (Conservation) 10/10
The Forest of Truth is inscrutable as the secrets it holds. To those brave enough to dare a journey into its beautiful, enticing, mysterious depths, they may find countless untold truths, knowledge of anything that may be known. But seekers be warned; the Forest lives and breathes. It expands as far as knowledge itself, and changes as its denizens do, for everything that grows brings a new understanding to the knowledge it has. An explorer could be lost in here forever, endlessly their interpretations changing as they gather more knowledge, thus their mind growing, and thus their path through the forest branching infinitely until their mortal mind might shatter. All that may be found in the Forest is Absolute Truth, and that may not be the most welcome discovery. The shattering of mortal minds was not Maktub's intention in creating the Forest, but more importantly in the preservation of all understanding. The Story may find themself walking among the boughs, hoping for answers to their questions.

Originally Posted by Gnomes2169

An observer among nightmare
The one Who-Believes’ arrival in Hvittmaudh would not be heralded with much in the way of fanfare or hostility. While there was a tribe on the other side of the mists he and his apprentice had entered, this tribe was small, maybe three family units and with only one huntsman of each family, and they had already gathered more food and resources than they could carry from this bridge that had remained mercifully open for days on end. Unfortunately, it had begun to close and they would need to begin a journey for a new bridge soon.

Thus, the arrival of these two mortals would be more of a curiosity than it was a cause for alarm. An old man and young woman that weren’t necessarily equipped to even be in this realm weren’t a threat, but… they would find this place hard to live in. A hardness that these peoples knew only all too well. The huntsmen, always honorable as they were, argued long with the elders of the tribe, and a compromise was made.

As the mists back to the First World began to fade, one of the Huntsmen approached the one Who-Believes with two bundles of warm fur from a bear that had been slain in previous hunts, and with two sleds of food, bone and furs. The clothing was given freely, but, though they did not share the same language, the hunter did her best to communicate through gestures and attempted speech that these strangers could travel with the tribe and benefit from their protection, as long as they were willing to haul their weight.

The one Who-Believes smiled at the gesture of kindness, though still wary of what these beings desired. The one Who-Trusts put her arm on her master as he led her along behind the tribe. She could not yet "see" as he did, but she trusted, and followed. Who-Believes began to understand, perhaps, the reason for the violence of these mist-beings. This world that was their home... it was not truly a home, it seemed to him... Nearly a prison. Devoid of comforts or abundance, they would need to take what they could get from the First World in order to survive...

So why stay here? Why not simply live among those of the First World, where there was abundance and enough to go around? Why stay in this prison?

He must understand these people if he were to protect his brothers and sisters from their wrath.

He spoke to them as they made camp one night, unsure how to communicate, and so, he spoke the True Tongue, so that they might know he spoke the Truth.

"Why do you stay here? The First World has much in abundance. Why return here from there?"

**canjowolf** · 2021-09-16, 07:39 PM (ISO 8601)

Spoiler: quote

Show

Originally Posted by Feathersnow

[U]Slingid

The Garden

The Sligs realized that the Gardeners wanted... something. And they didn't know how to respond. Many were indignant, and considered ignoring them, or even attacking.

But the Queen counseled that they give as deep as they could. They owed much, and attacking them would cast a long shadow, even were it justified, and it truly was not.

She told one of her workers to try to tell the Gardeners to come back in three days.

The hive worked tirelessly, without sleep that three days. They harvested as much as they dared from their most precious resource- the Zipratoo and Cupratoo Gingkos.

From the leaves of the Copper Tree, they made knives, and their only Truesmith made a giant metal shell that, when triggered, sang a great Saga.

With the Zinc, he empowered tiny, whittled wood legs to carry pots, and he made a heart. Then, tapping their precious store of Tumbaga, he made two hands and two eyes.

The other Sligs made fine things of wood and ceramic, and painted them beautifully.

On the third day, the Queen herself led the procession to meet the Gardners, flanked by sculptures of animated smoke, burnt from the incense they had learned of from their hosts.

The Queen gestured and a swarm of pots and jars came forth, held and moved by carven legs much like those of the Sligs themselves, the enchantments given longevity by the power of Zinc nails incorporated into them.

Bowls carried the incense made from the flowers, or food, or other things the Gardeners already had, or knew of. These were first.

Then came fine tools of stone in wooden barrels, finely made by Slig coppers, though their supply of wood was low.

Finally pots and jars. First jars of feathers. Then... a few precious copper knives in ceramic cooking pots. These had ceramic legs, so they could sit on fires, and the zinc empowering them was affixed in the eyes of the paintings that adorned them.

At last, though, was the Golem. It had golden eyes and hands, but otherwise, it resembled a giant gardner. Its left hand played a memory of making pots, its right a memory of curing incense to increase its potency and preserve the power of the flowers. The left eye held a memory of the Slig Core Hive, the Right a memory of the First Meeting of Slig and Gardner. The Zinc heart that empowered the construct was buried in the clay of its flesh.

These were dead simple constructs, and would follow only the direction of going where pointed, but... they were not nothing.

The Queen, for the first time since landfall, spoke directly, though the Gardeners did not yet speak her language, nor know how rarely her ilk deigned use language.

"THANK YOU"

Setting: The Garden, Slig Landfall

The Sligs had responded. They came in force, with the greater member of their kind. The living heart of the community. Their shaper and maker and pruner of life. She was wiser than the rest. She hid her form behind walls of subservient flesh and walls of dead wood. She hid her scent behind heavy incense, that no one might learn what would poison her. She hid her secrets well.

They had set out things of metal, which was new to the Gardeners. Though they had seen it in their dreams, and sometimes it had passed across the continent or been forged or wielded beneath the eyes of the watchful kikiri, they had not yet held it in their hands. One of the things made noise. They would sacrifice it to the Shadow, it was too dangerous for them.

The jars and the barrels were heavy. Good for keeping things dry, but difficult to carry while traveling. Heavy too was the effigy. An attempt by the slig to make their own gardener. A creation that showed memory through images in this world. Could such a thing be made which would show the dreams of the Dreamer? The phihid of course would have great use for pots with tentacles which could be controlled by those within. Automatons to give the flower people hands and legs to carry those of shallow root.

But all of these creations were dead. Unliving material made to move through unknown power. Like the thing of the bronze bones. It had been a being of power. Power greater than Shadow. This thing of clay was not such a power. It was a tool, like the other gifts. This one was perhaps too dangerous to bring to Shadow. An unsleeping thing, immune to poison and rot and temptations of the heart. When the priest dreamed she would show Shadow and learn what should be done with it.

Though the gardeners hungered with desire for what was presented to them, they waited patiently and politely for the slig queen to perform her ceremony. When they finally held the tools in hand, and the priest met Shadow in Dream, Shadow advised them to enhance the wall of phihid which kept the worst of the jungle horrors away from this community. The sligs were useful. They were different. They had not caused great evil. And their queen practiced a wise way of life.

Blackleaf was skeptical about these tree fearing beings. Best to keep them in the dark about Shadow for now. But what to do with the smoke? Who should receive a secret flame? But Shadow was calling again. Asking for more. The power to defend the foreigners? Very well. It was time for Shadow to grow, and receive the power to give power directly. So it was that Shadow was endowed with a conduit to Blackleaf's being, and the ability to grant mystical powers to those deemed worthy. Mostly those who were pious, respectful pilgrims, who offered the best sacrifices. The warlocks of this beautiful soul farm.

Spoiler: AP

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Starting 7
-1 Alter Land: The Wall of Wills - A great bastion of phihid which form a flowery meadow about a half mile wide in a ring about 20 miles away from Slig Landing which repels the beasts and horrors of the Garden and protect the sligs of Slig Landing. They are a pious people, given their duty by Shadow, and are able to access more pact power than others. (trade - )

-4 Create Mythical Concept: Power through Sacrifice (Warlock Pacts) - Shadow and any other dream trees may grant magical powers to those who make a soul pact with them. Their souls are tied to the Dream Tree and will be pulled to their spirit essence in the Dream Garden when untethered from their mortal coil (no astral travel for you Warlock!). Different Dream Trees may grant different powers based on their own personalities and interests. All dream trees can grant powers related to sleep and dreams. Shadow is focused on stealth, poison, patience, charm, the gardeners, the phihid, the kikiri, and the jungle. (trade - )

that's 10 AP towards trade. Take on Trade () as a portfolio.

addictive? codependant? dependant? Trade which either is essential or feels essential for continued existence. With a coercive flavor.

2 remain

**Zelphas** · 2021-09-17, 10:53 PM (ISO 8601)

Interlude - Within an Ancient Mind

Upon one of its infinite downward journeys, when the Hunger was blunted for a time and thoughts were able to form, the Landeater wondered about the world it lived within.

The Landeater had many physical bodies, it knew, which rose and fell in their cycles of Hunger in different places (though all returned to the Beckoning Deep), but every body had the same memory, stretching back to the first. Every body was the Landeater; that it lived in many places and had different memories after the first was simply an incidental part of its life. There were not many Landeaters; there was only the Landeater, in different bodies, with varying memories. The Landeater knew this, though it never considered sharing it. After all, who was there to share it with?

This is what the Landeater was pondering now, as it sank into the ocean and compacted back into its spherical bone casing. The times of Hunger were difficult to remember; the eponymous need ruled all of the Landeater at those times, and so thought and memory and even sight and sound were stolen away by this overriding need. Still, it thought that maybe, sometimes, the things Above were higher and stranger than they were the last time. If there weren't other things like the Landeater, how could rock and earth grow bigger by itself? And the bigger things were shaped differently, it thought, than most of the tall things the first time it had gone Above. Was that an argument in favor of other... creatures, or simply a distinction between old earth and new?

The Landeater knew that nothing truly like itself was Above; it would remember something of that size, at least, and if it was not the Landeater they would likely fight over Hunger. There were things nearly as large or perhaps larger than the Landeater in the water, but those things did not matter to its Hunger... yet. Perhaps they might, far into the future. It was struck in its musings by the idea that there might be smaller things than it living above. If so, it might have eaten them in its Hunger.

The Landeater turned over this idea as it sunk ever deeper, wondering how it should respond if this is true. Death was a strange thing to this creature; every laying of a new egg took more from the Landeater's body, increased its Hunger, until the final egg hollowed it out from the inside and left only fragments of bone to litter the bottom of the Beckoning Deep. The Landeater thought that this body might be traveling to that fate now; the Hunger had nearly crippled this body in the last rising, so if not in this cycle, then in the next. This did not bother the Landeater; it would hatch from the new egg with a new body and continue on, as it had always done. Did these theoretical small living creatures do the same? The Landeater, devoid of context, could not see why not.

It was still undecided upon the implications of its thinking when it reached the Beckoning Deep, and the Calling fully took its mind. It ceased to worry then, or truly to think.

**Writtensanity** · 2021-09-18, 07:48 AM (ISO 8601)

Spoiler: Ap Action - Create Race

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AP Cost 2: Create Race - Redlia.

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AP Cost: 2
AP Assignment: Pending
Remaining AP: 14/16

Spoiler: Ap Action - Create Racial Society

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AP Cost 2: Create Race - Redlia Networks

Small interconnected networks of Redlia who live independently, but communicate using sild and markings with one another.

Placeholder
AP Cost: 2
AP Assignment: Pending
Remaining AP: 12/16

**ezekielraiden** · 2021-09-18, 07:56 AM (ISO 8601)

The Grand Plan

Arkhos, even clothed in the form of the Speaker of Light, found the subsequent deliberations at the Black Peak awkward. Much weighed on him, with the as-yet-unexplained slaughter of his flock, and the particularly personal approach of the other deities did little to soothe his mind. Either one among them was two-faced--anathema in and of itself--or some outsider not among them was preying on them from places unknown. Neither option sat well with him.

Silently, with little more than a brief nod to Atticus, Arkhos moved away from the main throng, to a place where he could look out from the mountain and see the ocean. He did not walk, nor even show much motion, for such considerations had not yet crossed his mind, leaving the impression of a statue made of light gliding a foot above the floor.

From his vantage point, he looked out over the First World. This place was important, this he knew. But it was also limiting. Not just to those created on it, either. A strange sensation came to him, a feeling of weight, of pressure. The more he did, the closer that weight became. Someday, perhaps someday *soon,* he would have to separate from his children. They would need to be able to stand on their own.

To his shame (another foreign emotion), he realized he had begun to coddle them, these children. He had given them good things, yes, things they needed, things to protect them. But as they were, they had little ambition, little drive to do more or see further. He had moved too quickly, bestowed on them too much without asking for action in response. If this went unaddressed, then when he could no longer walk among them, they would be lost, rudderless, floundering. This he could not abide.

In fairness, though he had lavished them so with gifts and blessings, they had not been idle. The Quetzpal'in had constructed one of the first true cities of the First World, purely out of their love for him and his gifts. The Temoanih strove long to know more, to watch and guard. And the mazatl-riders had already pushed to the furthest edges of Anahuac. They were not a lazy people--far from it. But a greater push was needed.

First, to give them the resources he knew they would need. Not just for the day, but ever into the future. The land itself had to be made ready, made worthy. So he reached out his hand, and called unto him the greatest of the mazatl, a king amongst its kind, and whispered into its ear the words of the Beginning and the Plan. The mazatl seemed to understand, and accepted that, though it would die the death of body, it would live eternal in legend. Arkhos gave it a quick death, to honor its sacrifice. From its body, he drew forth a great skin, ready made for use; from its antlers he shaped a stylus; from its blood, he drew an ink as red as the fire-moon and dark as the empty night, and not one drop was spilled onto the ground.

Upon it he drew and scraped, molded and shaped, an image of what was, and what would be. This image, this map, retained some faint spark of the King-of-Mazatl that had formed it, both parchment and ink. As the ink and parchment lived, so too did the map across it. Anahuac, as seen with detail only a deity could see. Yet a further power did Arkhos bind into its skin, for again, it showed not just what was, but what would be.

High on the peak of Yacalhuia, the lofty snow-capped mountain in the center of Anahuac, the stone itself began to change beneath the ice and thin air. In such places, where the air was too thin to support life, the new metal did fair gleam beneath the ice, to be carried down as the melting-season came, in tiny grains. Of this gift he said nothing to the Quetzpal'in: it was on them to look, and find. Should they venture high, they would find a bounty unprecedented, but also the risk of death by thin air and frigid cold. But even those who did not climb high could still find great wealth, if instead of risk, they accepted labor, sifting the sands of the many rivers flowing through Anahuac for the grains of metal within. And these stones of metal, Arkhos blessed--that no matter how long time might wind, into ages far beyond reckoning, nor how oft the creatures of the world should pull them away, these stones should remain, glittering beneath the ice and upper airs.

Thus did the Quetzpal'in, and through them all the Temoanih Tonameyoh, learn to harvest the metal of the world without venturing down into the horrid depths, where the Calling's will is like a vice, squeezing heart and mind until nothing is left. And thus did Arkhos obtain the Living Map, to faithfully display any place on the Fist World and beyond, and grant some measure of power over the land.

Arkhos knew that if his children were to grow and seek to rise higher, they would need to travel between the islands of Cartisia, and many places beyond. Yet also, he knew their wise caution toward the sea, with its seductive song of death and passivity, that had so frightened their animal forebears. But perhaps, in the twisted curses wrought by the Calling, there might be another path. Not upon the water, but over it, through the thickened air that came to rest near the sea. He called upon the Animal Arches again, and this time, instead of vast and ponderous beasts of burden, somewhat smaller beasts emerged, of uncanny likeness. From the front, feathered and like birds, some cloaked in scarlet and emerald, others in prismatic black, some few in snow-pure white and other colors besides, all with wings and beaks and the eyes of hunters. From the rear, however, furred in color like to their feathers, with sturdy legs, rending claws, and a tufted tail. The Quetzpal'in named these bird-cats chamolli, for those of scarlet color were the most striking of them all.

It would take them time, but eventually the Temoanih Tonameyoh would master these beasts as they had the mazatl. The chamolli would carry them, not merely over land, but across the skies as well. They were ill-suited to toil, and needed for meat and fruit, unlike the easily-pleased mazatl, but these all served Arkhos' purpose well. The chamolli would carry the light of aspiration to the far corners of Cartisia, at least, without ever needing to touch the sea and its dark temptations.

Yet if they were to explore, they would need to know where they were, and where they had been. Through the Codex, he showed them the art of making their own, lesser equivalents of the Living Map--neither alive nor brimful with divine power, but tools of power in their own right. With wing and map at their disposal, his children would no longer be trapped, but explore, and full glad he was when, in years hence, they did so unbidden, for curiosity and conquest, rest and resources alike.

This done...he could not rest, but he could focus on his new mission. He could hunt the master of the hunters...and then seek revenge.

Spoiler: AP Actions

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Total AP: 4 (from rollover 9/11)

Create GUA of Alter Land (4 AP, discounted by the Loom of Light): The Living Map [War (Tactics) 10/10: Acquired]
The Living Map is exactly as its name implies, it is a map that is also alive, keeping just the tiniest spark of the living mazatl Arkhos slew in order to make it. It perfectly depicts the lay of whatever territory is shown, down to preternaturally fine detail, and permits the holder to make changes to the depicted land.

Alter Land (free, discounted by Living Map): Bounty of the Mountain.
Yacalhuia and the mountain range it is part of are now absolutely chock-full of metals, many of them native because they minimally corrode in the cursed-thin air of the upper atmosphere. This metal is eroded by glacial action and runoff, becoming sand that travels down to the sea. Much of it gets stuck in the riverbeds along the way. Brave residents of Anahuac go to collect the raw ores from their source, while more cautious laborers sift the river sands instead.

Bless (free, discounted by Solar Disk): The Mountain Shall Not Bow.
The metal ores of Yacalhuia and its mountain range cannot be depleted, whether by erosion or by mining. Even when stones are taken away, they will regenerate over time, though not instantaneously.

Create Monstrous Life (free, discounted by Animal Arches): Chamolli, tropical-bird gryphons.
Smaller than the enormous mazatl, but still quite large, the chamolli are more finicky, not sharing the mazatl's preternatural ease of domestication and feeding. However, in the thick air of low altitude, full-grown chamolli are strong enough to fly while carrying at least one person (the very largest and strongest might carry two). The Temoani use them to travel between islands and other purposes, supplementing the use of mazatl for more labor-intensive tasks.

Create Mundane Concept (free, discounted by Codex Perpetuus): Cartography.
The Temoani have mastered the art of depicting their travels on maps (usually made of mazatl-parchment) for use with navigation. Pretty straightforward.

In-progress domain: Sun (Revelation) 8/10

Acquired Domain: War (Tactics)

Remaining AP: 4-4=0

**MrAbdiel** · 2021-09-18, 12:00 PM (ISO 8601)

At The Black Peak

Atticus did the job he was chosen to do. He facilitated; he spoke for Arah-Huana; he assigned individual Utterers to their respective adopters; he took note of those assurances to send trainees to become part of the order. He did the diligent work he was assigned, and did not complain even when the words that flowed through his tongue pained his jaw for their divine provenance. He did not expect a particular reward for this, for he was a creature of learned piety. But Atticus-He-Speaks-For-Me, in addition to being the first Prophet, would receive an additional distinction: the only prophet to witness Arah-Huana in his first and only true manifestation in the material world.

He came in a moment of shadow rushing over the mountain and away again, and there he was; black of scale and red of eye, with all the sleek killing form of a predator and the unblinking patience that belongs only to gods. His size was impossible; large as the mountain itself. Large enough that his coils roped around the spiralling staircases, dislodging chips and chunks of stone that Nechustani pilgrims would trade to each other as relics for hundreds of years to come. He was possessed of the obvious power of a god like those assembled, and so certainly might have had the strength in those coils to squeeze and crush the mountain of his own making; but nothing in his undulating adjustment over the form of the Black Peak suggested hostility. Just patience, and majesty, and penetrating divine vision.

This terrified the Nechustani, and possibly other mortals present; the logical instinct in the presence of such an unthinkable thread is to freeze, or fall to the ground as many did. But the gods here - those who understood what they are - likely recognized that size and earthly strength were depictions of ineffable traits, not clumsy realities. The colossal, diamond-form head of the Godfather, the Carnifactor, hovered in view of the rotunda; one great ruby eye the size of a small lake witnessing the gathering within.

“This…” began Atticus, the only unbowing desert elf in the assembly, “is what my god says: ‘The time is here, and the hour is now. The world becomes too small for us; and the work of your hands must be released from your grip. But I will make this mountain more blessed still - a meeting place for gods and their devoted mortals who would meet face to face at the border of the heavens, and the world. This is my last gift'.”

A stone cracking boom rang out as part of the front facing of the mountain split open under tremendous pressure, and a riotous fall of water tumbled down its grand face; over the steps, over the coils of Arah-Huana, and down below to the land that would one day be the site of the grandest city in the world, at the foot of the mountain. The water came not from the First world, but from the Wellspring; a plane woven into being explicitly for the gods by the mysterious one Who Spoke. Portentously, a gleaming read meteor scythed through the daylit sky, for all the people of the First World to marvel at, and to know an epoch was dawning.

And then he was gone; with a slackening of coils, the serpent might be expected to fall to the desert below; but the force that compelled the corpus of this was something wholly greater, and less deniable, than gravity’s slack groping. The divinity loosed, and drifted a little upward; and then, with a rush of the warm winds bleeding over from the Wellspring, the form came apart like smoke, and was gone; never again to manifest so in the mortal realm.

* * * * *

Elsewhere...

Arah-Huana, however, was not the god of forthcoming truths. He was the god, among other things, of vengeance; and in spite of claiming the bridging of the Wellspring to the Black Peak as his last gift, another was in transit. And not all of the gods would come to see it as a gift.

Screaming through the sky with a howl like raw-lunged rage, the meteor that had lapped the world as a portent of the departure of the gods fell from the sky at the end of its journey, throwing its blazing red shadow over the Pyramid of the Sun.

Spoiler: AP Spends and Outcomes

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AP Actions:

2 AP: Create Bridge - 8/10 Reason (Diplomacy)

Black Peak of Reason to Wellspring Resort

The summit of the Black Peak of Reason exists both within the Wellspring and the First world, making it a place where gods denied the mortal plane can meet with mortals ambitious enough to make the climb. The protective blessing for the top of the mountain still applies, as do the Wellspring’s own laws laid down by the Deluge.

0 AP: Bless (Discounted by the Perdition Sluice)

A Strange New Blade

Buried within the meteor landing near the Pyramid of the Sun, exposed from its split core of precious and fantastical metals as conveyed by the existing Meteors blessing, is a sleek curved bladed sword of blood red metal. Neither the metal nor the form of weapon has been seen in the First World before; but the wielder will come to learn it is frightfully sharp and perfect for war, especially mounted combat. The weapon’s nature can be intuitively learned by a wielder who possesses it long enough: it is an engine of vengeance, and once vengeance has been had, it ought to be passed on to another worthy wielder. Notably, the wielder will learn that reciting the names of those to be avenged while wielding the sword quickens strikes, strengthens blows, and eliminates battle fatigue. In time, onlookers witnessing its sequential wielders using it in combat mistake the swordbearer for speaking madness, when in fact the gibberish may simply be the compressed, phonically smoothed recitation of dozens or hundreds of names made unintelligible, just as a signature becomes indecipherable after enough replications.

The Quetzpal’in will have their own name for the sword; but the Nechustani, who recognize it as the work of their god, will know it as a lesser, cousin-blade to those they call the Fangs of Arah-Huana.

All of that is flavor; the only crunchy bit of the blessing is this: wielders of weapons forged by the Midwife of Blades (such as the artifact Fangs of Arah-Huana, and this merely narrative strange new blade) find that the weapons themselves are able to slowly instruct the wielder in striking patterns and ideal katas modelled on the wielder’s physiology. This usually results in the wielder developing a martial art, which they are then free to teach to others using similar weapons.

1 AP: Create Mundane Concept - 2/10 Darkness (Ambush)

Martial Arts (Yada-Araku)

Often developed by trial and error over generations of fighters, the first primitive, formal martial arts begin to emerge in the mortal peoples. In the Nechustani this takes the form of Yada-Araku, a fighting style that emphasizes sudden, deadly strikes often from ambush, attempting to begin a conflict with a debilitating blow and very quickly end it with a mortal one. It is practiced with the open hand, and when possible, a knife or dagger.

AP Outcomes: With 5 Domains complete, Arah-Huana ascends to the level of Lesser Deity, and can no longer manifest in the First World.

Note: Due to a rules kerfuffle, 2 points of AP spending have been subtracted here, technically pushing Arah-Huana's ascension to his next post. But nothing substantial about the narrative has changed.

**Zelphas** · 2021-09-18, 09:56 PM (ISO 8601)

At the Bottom of the Beckoning Deep

There was no bottom.

There was no bottom.

That would not do. It would not do at all.

Very well then; if this reality had become so confused that it had lost sight of the idea of true depth altogether, it was clear that the work that had been done so far had been getting ahead of itself. First, there must be a Deep; then, all things can return to it. One and then the other.

This reality was without a deep. The first true order of business was to make one.

For the first time since nearly the beginning, the Call from the depths of the First World... vanished. It would not be gone forever. But while it was gone, the effects of its leaving would be... noticeable.

Spoiler: AP Actions

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0 AP + 4 AP = 4 AP

Weave Plane (Deep) -3 AP: Deep consists of two parts: the first is a cone of irregular dark brown-red rock two thousand miles long, measuring five hundred miles across at its apex and barely a mile across at its nadir. The apex of this cone is covered over with the same brown-red rock; the nadir is hollow, leading to the second part. The second part is a chamber made of black non-material, uniformly flat, two hundred feet below the bottom of the cone. It stretches out endlessly in every direction. There is one special rule in this plane that separates it from all others: it is impossible to move upwards in this plane. You can move from side to side and downwards, but never up. (Domain Progression: Emotions (Dread) 10/10)

Doman get! Ascension Acheived!

Curse (Bounce Back) -0 AP (The Pit of Hunger): With the Calling's Call temporarily vanished from the First World, the sea and the air have suddenly found themselves free from endless downward pressure. This has resulted (among other things) in massive storms and hurricanes as the air and water try to re-gain equilibrium. This curse will end the moment a portal is made connecting the First World and Deep.

4 AP - 3 AP = 1 AP Remaining

**Razade** · 2021-09-18, 10:20 PM (ISO 8601)

The Storms and the Kittess

Long in the history of the Kittess lay what amounted to...well, one might call it a religion. The Kittess were, as noted, a curious race with an eye for the world around them and if there were three things that dominated their ancient islands it was the following.

Fish.
Sunstone.
Storms.

Of the first, it allowed the Kittess to eat and hunt and survive to a point that they created a sprawling network of towns across their island home. The evidence of early stonework and a language would be present to anyone though the Kittess only truly worked on these to a point they could use them with the least effort and no longer. The world was, after all, a wondrous place and they had much too much to see and play with to worry about making anything lasting like the other races.

The second was close to hand, easily uncovered in the dirt from its shine and with its practical application of storing mana the Kittess, powerful sorcerers, it quickly came that all the Sunstone on the island had been uncovered. Much of it sat in storehouses, no real purpose for so much for quite some time however the third of these constants soon made a use.

The Kittess were not unfamiliar with storms. It had kept them, and their aversion to water, from exploring out from The Drum for generations. The storms that wracked their ocean home, they presumed, had come from the very thing that had made the islands in the first place. What it was they still did not know but the greatest of the Kittess minds surmised that if it was a thing at all it ha passed beyond their realm. Then the storms increased and the regularly not very superstitious Kittess came to a very superstitious conclusion. Whatever had passed from their lands to the beyond was returning and they wanted nothing to do with that.

So it was that the Kittess took Sunstone and fashioned keys and a massive arch that swept well into the sky...and left the First World to the worlds beyond.

Spoiler: AP

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AP: 4

Create Portal (The Sunstone Arch) -2AP: A vast Sunstone arch that sits at the center of the Sunstone Isles. Without a key to the Portal it is inert, and all known keys traveled with the Kittess. It now stands as a dead pathway to The Wellspring upon the mortal world [Beauty (Gems) 10/10]

The Deluge ascends, for what it matters.

**Feathersnow** · 2021-09-19, 05:38 PM (ISO 8601)

Slingid: Generations

Part one
Some time ago, the Third Swarming

It was an unprecedented time. The three Queens had each had not three or four daughters, but a full dozen. And the workers born in subsequent years had come not by the dozen but a score or more in each clutch!

Already, the territory of the Sligs were starting, not to become uncomfortable, but to create the impression that, in time, a pattern and districts might be necessary. At the same time, the most powerful cadres had grown over a hundred strong, and were almost as feared by the lesser groups as She-Who-Is-Ever-A-Part herself.

It was in that context that the Sligs sent out the second, and as it would happen, last, wave of colonists, three Queens and 72 workers, not the expected 36, to the unknown land to the west.

They found a land rich for cultivation, similar to their homeland in subtropical Piedwald. The only hiccup was the presence of magically empowered monsters that seemed mysteriously tied to cairns of rocks scattered in odd places.

Investigation of these cairns seemed to tie them to the same kind of magic known to exist in True-Tempered Tumbaga, but the images they held were disorienting and strange.

The Sligs avoided the monsters, and the monsters, for their part, had no immediate reason to antagonize the Sligs.

The Fifth Swarming

The Fifth Swarming was the greatest moment of transition in Slig history. The colonies on The Garden were established, the unnatural fecundity had gone as mysteriously as it had come, and Slin-Thirthu had formally severed political ties with the Cadre Duma, indeed they barely spoke with the other Queens.

So the huge number of Queens set to swarm had no clear place to go. And, more to the point, they didn't want to. They were increasingly happy to subordinate themselves to their matriarchs, if that meant living in the works of the elder cadres. Slingid's pioneer spirit had, after sixty-nine years, given way to the comfort of the great cities of Northern Piedwald, and the walled exclave in the Garden that protected the Sligs from the true dangers of the equatorial continent.

And so, the dozen daughters of that swarm resolved themselves each would adopt one of the oldest twelve cadres and form a new thing. In the three other Slig cities of Piedwald, their agemates chose the same path. Three lone dissenters from all the Queens born five years earlier chose to head out to the unknown lands, and they were never heard from again, though it is said some Sligs live there, under the hand of other governments...

But the others formed the Council of Te'ivosks. The "Te'ivosk" being a new thing, greater than a cadre but less than a hive. A subordination of a Queen to one of the Great Cadres, as well as to the principle Queen of that hive.

The Council, collectively, would be a second house of government, superior in some ways but fundamentally separate from the Duma of Cadres. And both, would be nationally co-equal to She-Who-Is-Ever-A-Part embodied and mediated by the principle Queen of the Core Hive. In later centuries, the position of Kzairra, or Empress, would become detached from the Queen of Core Hive, so that the current holder of The Preparing Knife would be moved to the capitol instead of the other way around.

**KragBrightscale** · 2021-09-19, 09:44 PM (ISO 8601)

Terrestrial Monsters

Lhazhax’s green and brown speckled exoskeleton was particularly well suited to roaming the lush vegetation of the land above the waters.

Tales from the first expedition told of massive terrestrial sea monsters that roamed the jungle further inland. Others had occasionally spotted their large neighbors from afar, but the rekexi colony usually remained submerged, seeing no need to venture further ashore than the sandy boundary between the waves and the green.

Lhazhax had not made it through the qualifying rounds to become one of the next generation of leaders, a major blow to his ambitions. His personal combat strength and strategic talents apparently not sufficient to compete against his peers.

Rather than wallow in his failures, accept his lot and then die as a nameless warrior to further the ambitions of another, Lhazhax decided to accomplish a great feat to ensure his recognition. Possessing one of the giant terrestrial monsters and conquering the surface would be such a glorious achievement.

Making use of his natural camouflage, the smaller than average Rekexi finally managed to approach one of the legendary giants of the land. Reaching out his hand gingerly he attempted to make use of his blessing.

Nothing.

Confused by the failure he tried a few more times, until a looming shadow above him caused him to freeze and look up.

The large head of a Sauropod was hovering over Lhazhax watching the young warrior pat its tail. The young warrior despaired when he noticed the eye, larger than his whole body, staring down at him.

Just as he was expecting to be devoured or stepped on like an ant, he heard something in his mind.

The Catalytic Council and the Pearl of Wisdom

Diving amongst the reef that surrounded Kraxichit’s mountainous shell, now referred to as Shelledonia by the people of the Krillix empire, was a dangerous activity.

Year round, powerful currents either flowed towards and into the submerged cavern where Divine Crustacean resided, or flowed out from it toward the chasm of the beckoning deep. Those caught up in the current were usually never seen again.

The only “safe” time to swim there was during the week of peak high or low tide, and it was during these times devoted worshippers of the Crustacean Deity would gather for their most important rituals and celebrations.

Hosted by the Catalytic Council, there were celebrations marking the coming of age, and rituals where adherents who reached the age of 10 or 20 could dedicated their next decade to the pursuit of a career or job completely unrelated to what they had been doing in the past.

It was not rare for there to be many who changed their names, decided to move to other islands, or changed their relationships.

Stagnation was to avoided and resisted at all cost. It was a sign of evil and corruption when things remained unchanged and unchallenged over generations. Change and adaptation were vital for maintaining a healthy society and personal life. Those were the only unchanging tenets of those who followed the Lord of the Tide.

The number of young who were coming of age this year were higher than any of the previous. It was unsure why more eggs were laid than usual seven years ago, and why so much more of those eggs successfully hatched and survived until adulthood.

Many members of the Council saw this as a sign from their God, times were changing and this new generation would be the ones leading the wave of change as it swept across the land and sea.

A swarm of youngsters had eagerly gathered from all over the empire, awaiting the trials that would mark them and determine the next steps in life. Combat tournaments, hand craft competitions, fierce debates, and finally once most of the more average youngsters had been weeded out and completed their ceremonies it was time for the dive.

Only the best and brightest remained. Diamonds in the rough, ready to search the reefs that were inaccessible for most of the year. The reef, which experienced change year round and was constantly exposed to Kraxichit’s Divine aura, was always full of strange and valuable objects and lifeforms. What the divers would find often had a big influence on the final coloring of their exoskeletons.

The signal was given and the youngsters dived into the temporarily calm waters. They would search for something which caught their eye, something to present to the Councillors that presided over the event.

Many of the Sea Wraiths had found their Sea Monster partners during previous events as the young sea monsters were some of those best suited to inhabit the area. Although a rekexi lifespan was short, once the bond had been formed the creatures would always have the predisposition and capability to find new partners. The fragments of memories and knowledge that remained from their previous partners would lead many to come to the event to find a successor to their late partner.

Days passed and most participants had returned bringing their haul. Representatives from the Sea Wraiths were pleased to see the reappearance of previously possessed sea monsters that had chosen new partners. Members from the Cult kept a look out for anything they thought the deep and the purple worm would like, in preparation for their next meeting with the Eartheater.

Just when the dangerous currents started flowing again and the hosts were about to declare the conclusion of the dive, an enormous clam propelled itself out of the reef into safety. As it slowly opened, the crowd was stunned by the sight of the largest pearl anyone had ever seen, and curled up around it was the body of a young Rekexi.

Returning to her body after relinquishing her possession of the clam, she carried the pearl roughly half her size out and over to the elders nearby. As she walked, her exoskeleton started hardening like all the others who had completed their coming of age rituals. By the time she stood in front of the elders, her hardened exterior resembled black mother of pearl.

The elders examined the giant pearl with curiosity, it pulsed with divinity much like the Conch of Change. This would no doubt be an item of importance to the entire empire. As the finder of the artifact, this young rekexi would likely taken to the current empress for training as a potential successor.

The Harbingers announced the conclusion of the event with excitement. This would truly be a golden generation.

Spoiler: AP actions

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AP: 4 + 4 (rollover)

Create Organization (The Catalytic Council) -1 AP
The devotee followers of Kraxichit, they are strongly committed to bringing change to their own lives and societies around them. Their structure is based loosely on that of the cult, and their formation is in part as a response to them too. In Krillix their elders are often invited to officiate important ceremonies of change such as coming of age, instating a new leader, coronations, promotions, moving to a new home or island, and to provide help in career guidance.
War (Unification) 7/10

Create Minor Utility Artifact of mundane concepts (Pearl of Wisdom) -3 AP
A beautiful white pearl about a foot in diameter that pulses with divinity. It’s use or purpose has yet to be discovered by the Rekexi. Occasionally when the light hits it right, one can see flickers of movement within it, as if it is trying to communicate or show something.
War (Unification) 10/10 Get!
(Reason: I plan to use it to create a series of mundane war related concepts)

AP remaining: 8 -1 -3 = 4

**Kinro** · 2021-09-19, 10:55 PM (ISO 8601)

The sauropod didn't notice the small creature which had snuck up on her. There were many small creatures in the forests and most were harmless enough. Many even pleasant, like the birds which flew to her to so delightfully peck at her itchy spots. For each sauropod, large as they were, had a veritable ecosystem living on them, of parasites, eaters of parasites, eaters of those and, of course, more benign creatures which simply enjoyed the high, moving platform they provided. But this was not of of those, or one of the myriad creatures that innocently moved about, or often away, from the enormous creatures. But this was also not one like the hated velociraptors, stealers of eggs and killers of youths. No, this one was different. This was one who had tried to invade the sauropod's mind, her will. Not once, but several times. It failed, of course, but... she was curious. She tried to... communicate.

Imagine a conversation. Not one of sounds, sauropods never learned to communicate with sounds. The race, telepathic from birth, never developed the need. Instead, it is a conversation of feeling and sensations, thoughts and emotions. Imagine an entire side of this conversation compressed into a single instant, like a single image, but one composed of many images, those composed of images in turn, sometimes so deeply that they would seem to be going forever in an endless chain of subtleties and relations, often recursing into themselves. Such was what the unknowing sauropod sent into the poor Lhazhax's mind. The thought-image 'spoke' if herself, who she was, and, contained within her, her herd, their land and so many things besides. It spoke of her feelings in all their multi-layered and contradictory complexity, the welcome of a apparently thinking being, but also the fear an apprehension, curiosity, some affront at the attempt of taking her, obscured by amusement, surprise at the existence of another type of thinking being, and one so small, fear of the unknown, fear of accidental, careless harm to one so small, honour at being the first to contact another thinking being and so many others. And it asked, too, of the being, who it was, what it wanted. Simple questions, but with answers expected to be as deep as the sauropod's own 'introduction', so that the depths of the unknowns would feel vertiginous. And all of that was blasted into one who had certainly never received telepathic contact before at the full, casual strength of am adult sauropod's mind.

**KragBrightscale** · 2021-09-20, 06:39 AM (ISO 8601)

Spoiler: Dino talk

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Originally Posted by Kinro

The sauropod didn't notice the small creature which had snuck up on her. There were many small creatures in the forests and most were harmless enough. Many even pleasant, like the birds which flew to her to so delightfully peck at her itchy spots. For each sauropod, large as they were, had a veritable ecosystem living on them, of parasites, eaters of parasites, eaters of those and, of course, more benign creatures which simply enjoyed the high, moving platform they provided. But this was not of of those, or one of the myriad creatures that innocently moved about, or often away, from the enormous creatures. But this was also not one like the hated velociraptors, stealers of eggs and killers of youths. No, this one was different. This was one who had tried to invade the sauropod's mind, her will. Not once, but several times. It failed, of course, but... she was curious. She tried to... communicate.

Imagine a conversation. Not one of sounds, sauropods never learned to communicate with sounds. The race, telepathic from birth, never developed the need. Instead, it is a conversation of feeling and sensations, thoughts and emotions. Imagine an entire side of this conversation compressed into a single instant, like a single image, but one composed of many images, those composed of images in turn, sometimes so deeply that they would seem to be going forever in an endless chain of subtleties and relations, often recursing into themselves. Such was what the unknowing sauropod sent into the poor Lhazhax's mind. The thought-image 'spoke' if herself, who she was, and, contained within her, her herd, their land and so many things besides. It spoke of her feelings in all their multi-layered and contradictory complexity, the welcome of a apparently thinking being, but also the fear an apprehension, curiosity, some affront at the attempt of taking her, obscured by amusement, surprise at the existence of another type of thinking being, and one so small, fear of the unknown, fear of accidental, careless harm to one so small, honour at being the first to contact another thinking being and so many others. And it asked, too, of the being, who it was, what it wanted. Simple questions, but with answers expected to be as deep as the sauropod's own 'introduction', so that the depths of the unknowns would feel vertiginous. And all of that was blasted into one who had certainly never received telepathic contact before at the full, casual strength of am adult sauropod's mind.

Meeting of the Mind

Lhazhax’s mind was reeling from the sudden influx of images, thoughts and feelings. Trying to digest the new knowledge and process what was being communicated, he had no control over what thoughts were being sent back through the mind bridge.

Fear of being stepped on or eaten, lots of confusion, then brief moments of understanding that showed that some of what had been communicated was understood. When prompted to answer questions, Lhazhax’s undefended mind subconsciously brought up related memories and thoughts.

It was a jumbled mess, much worse than any Sauropod child. Rather than intentional compressed communication, the thoughts were a muddy stream, slow and requiring more of the receiver to even make sense of. Even so, the thoughts sent told a story of the Rekexi’s short life, of being a youngling cared for and taught in the safety of a beautiful lagoon, of the pressure of competition and the ambition to rise above his peers. It showed glimpses of a colorful world submerged below the waves, of a densely populated reef just off the coast, and the carnage of a battlefield he had witnessed while still young.

Lhazhax went on to think about memories of the first time he felt the call of the deep, and how he was taught that after dying all bodies should be given to it, but until then not to follow its tug, then there was teaching about the benefits of change and the danger of stagnation, and the legends of the divine crab who created them. Then an honest thought that the divine crab would no doubt look favorably upon these giant’s herds for their roaming and nomadic lifestyle.

Gradually rousing from his stupor, Lhazhax was surprised to find himself still alive. Realizing that the giant in front of him was actually a being that possessed a spirit and was capable of complex thoughts, he tried to convey apologies for his rude behavior along with a sense of gratitude for being spared.

Communicating his intent to return to the waters and tell his people about what he had learned, Lhazhax gestured while trying to clearly imaging himself doing just that. He also tried to imagine a small group of rekexi returning to speak with their much larger neighbors. He would of course be back with them, along with Elders who had more knowledge and would be better equipped to participate in talks with the first sapient beings to be discovered other than themselves.

**MrAbdiel** · 2021-09-20, 08:22 AM (ISO 8601)

The Sacred Games Begin

Rumbling in the waters between the south-western peninsula of Abdita and the north-eastern rim of Cartisia, a divine calling enforced itself on the First World. Perhaps the calling was made possible only with the departure of the more sinister calling, drawing things down and into the deeps. Perhaps it was just time.

An island of white stone lifted itself from the depths, and presented its mass to the sunlight for the first time. A wealth of sea plants and fish were sacrificed here, across not only flat stone but impressive preformed structures that spoke of purpose, and competition, and glory. In time, scavengers would do some of the work of cleaning away the aquatic debris, the accumulated shellfish, the greasy, nebulous coating of aquatic slime. But the island's caller did not care for time very much at all.

With a wash of divine energy, the island's filth was rebuked and blasted out of existence, leaving the island clear and pristine as if constructed by master artisans on a pre-existing, perfected foundation. Numerous buildings existed in clusters and strips on the island, forming roads in the spaces between the four sided frustrums which would one day house travellers, athletes and heroes. But the dominate building, far above all the others, was the gargantuan Sacred Colosseum that hummed with divine invitation and seemed to strain with the as-yet-unseen potential for roaring crowds, clashing steel, and a moment in time when disparate peoples are united by delight in vicarious excellence. In the centre of that arena, moving slowly through the sand that had no reason to be there, was a lone black asp basking in the sun. It slithered around the structure, over every seat and booth with an almost mindless patience, and then finally settled on a podium of white stone at the far northern end. Then, with a voice unspoken and but felt ineffably in the hearts of champions and those who would strive to -be- champions, it made another call. First, it called to a handful of Nechustani who served at its master's pleasure, for their efforts would be needed to facilitate such an event. Soon after, it called to all others - those on Abdita, and Cartisia, and Piedwald, and far Thirta-Din and sunken Krillix; further still to the duality of Voicury, and echoing into the scattered planes and their attendant peoples.

Come, it said. Come, and have glory.

Spoiler: AP Spends!

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1 AP - Alter Land: The Island of Champions

Intended to host a series of sacred games every twenty years, the Island of Champions is a white stone foundation wrenched up from the deep places of the ocean and supernaturally prepared with buildings and facilities to accommodate just that purpose. A spectacular Sacred Colosseum is its most prominent feature, but sufficient housing for thousands to attend and stay over its years-long operation is present also. The natural state of the island is to settle to a mile beneath the sea, but the blessing bestowed on the Victor's Cincture summons it from the depths when required, and releases it when the games are over, at which point it slowly sinks back into the water over a month, giving ample time to depart.

9/10 Reason (Diplomacy)

1 AP - Blessing: The Victor's Cincture

The recipient of this blessing is technically a sash of black silk with no greater natural properties than being an article of decent fashionability made of a fabric beyond its time. Blessed thusly, the Cincture becomes a powerful relic with multiple features. They are as follows:

In relation to the Island of Champions...
- At the end of twenty years after the last Sacred Games or when the last Victor of the games has died, the Cincture fades away and reconstitutes as a simple black asp on the sunken Island of Champions. This causes the island to begin rising from the waves, supernaturally exorcised of oceanic filth, ready for another set of sacred games.
- At the conclusion of a Sacred Games when a Victor is declared, the Cincture transforms into an article of clothing suitable to indicate prestige and honor for the recipient (a crown, a belt, a necklace, etc.) The suboceanic island is made cursed and hostile to life whenever the Cincture is not present there, making it unsuitable for colonization even by aquatic creatures.

In relation to the Victor...

- The Cincture cannot be given away, or lost; it finds its way back to the Victor unless they deliberately destroy it, in which case it ceases to function until the normal conditions for the Sacred Games beginning are met.
- The Cincture is made to house blessings offered by gods as a joint venture of cooperation and perhaps some light gambling. A god who places a blessing on the Cincture may declare it as a subordinate blessing, which means that the corresponding god may alter the nature of the blessing at the beginning of a new Sacred Games (for example, to reflect the nature of a more recently gained portfolio, or to offer a different boon more in keeping with the First World's pressing needs.)

Having a subordinate blessing on the Cincture entitles that god to designate (in the privacy of divine knowledge) their champion who will compete with the others to become the next Victor. There are many games and over time they will develop more; but the nature of a divine's power is such a Hero will always rise to the top of the critical event - the Sacred Combat. The Victor is always a Hero. Non-Heroic mortals may win lesser, narrative events and prizes; but the Sacred Combat is such that no matter how many others qualify, the Victor will be determined by a fair and reasonable application of the Random Combat Resolution rules. That Hero will be awarded the Cincture, and may bear it for up to 20 years, bringing his people and causes manifold blessings and much glory indeed - and, perhaps, some jealous enemies.

10/10 Reason (Diplomacy) (Level up.)

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