Apedemak thanked Atheos for his allowance, and he followed the Librarian toward the center of the Great Axis. And he learned of the ways of taming the beasts, and how they could be bred and kept; how with training and time, they might become allies even of those who did not have a god's power. Where he faltered in this knowledge, the Librarian aided him; and soon enough, he thanked her as well, and took his leave back to his people, all the while considering how this knowledge might be adapted and put to use to aid the humans.
Then Apedemak reached forth his hand and devised how the humans might truly fight alongside the beasts they tamed. He taught them how to sit astride a tamed creature, that they might benefit from the greater mobility and strength of Zakaz's creations; and with that greater speed and agility, they might combat the great beasts on their own terms.
But the lions were proud beasts by nature, and soon it became apparent that they cared not to bend their will in such a way. Apedemak tried to speak with them, in the tongue of lions, and inspire them to lend their strength to his other chosen; but even still, they were proud, and many humans were too afraid or unsure to approach them. Among the humans were warriors brave and dedicated, however: they were willing to face even injury at the lions' claws and teeth if it meant they might help to save their tribe.
Apedemak dwelt on this problem for a short time, but he saw the fortitude of the humans, and he saw fit to grant them power to match it. So he gathered some of their blood, and mixed it with blood of lions, one Man for every beast; and to this he added a drop of his own ichor, and a drop of blood from the Crimson Dawn. He imbued the potion with his favor and divinity, and bade those humans willing to drink from it. And when they did, they found that their minds were linked with those of the lions, and they could speak and act nearly as one mind, working as the closest of brothers and friends.
With these newfound abilities, the humans and their lion companions went on a first hunt, and they returned with a great bounty of deer and other wild prey, and they had been safe from the Cull. And Apedemak showed them how they might take these hides, and those of tougher beasts, and tan them to be strong, and then stitch them the one to the other into thick clothing, that might pad them and ward off the worst of blows. And these warriors were the first to gird themselves so, and they clothed themselves all in hides and furs, stitched in layers to protect themselves; and they called themselves the Claws, for with these gifts and powers they were as mighty as their beasts.
Finally, Apedemak took the leftover hides and stretched them about the clearing where the humans had made their homes. He took timbers from the trees, and fashioned a great longhouse for the Lion King, which would serve as the seat of their power and a place of last defense for the tribe. Though fencing and traps might fail, and warriors may fall, it was doubtful any attacker might defeat the Lion King in their own hall.
With these gifts, Apedemak left them. But as he did so, he was suffused with the power of his actions, and he felt empowered beyond his previous form. As his will worked on the world, so too did he grow in his ability to use it, and his knowledge of the path for doing so. He was a god of war, first and foremost; but he was also a god of nobility, and protection. Where others might seek wanton destruction, he would be a beacon of hope and survival.
With the gifts of Apedemak the humans held their ground for the most part. However, the Cull thought as one and each member was as intelligent as another, creating a vast mind with a million eyes. The Claws could not be everywhere at once and the rate at which the Cull reproduced was staggering. For every Swarm the Claws struck down two more stood behind. The Cull struck where the Claws were not and engaged fearsomely where they were. Piles of corpses built up as the Claws were slowly pushed back. The Cull allowed no rest, no reprieve.
Years passed before the end. The Lion King stood before his hall, the women and children inside, or what was left of them. Flanking him was the gathered power of the claws. Before him was the endless sea of Swarm and their mighty Crested.
A drop of rain fell.
The Cull surged ahead in an all out charge.
Tissari blinks. "Oh! Oh, dear. My apologies. Well, this is awkward, but... that sea kind of needs to exist. People use it to survive. Um, well, Atheos won't help, I think Apedemark is kind of tired at this point, Zakaz won't care, I haven't seen Aranae in literal ages, and... I'm fresh out of power. And I can't really stand around here and do, well, this while I recover. Sooo... pretty please?" Tissari asks once more.
The sea boiled. And Atheos saw that it was not good. Water flowed back from the ocean into the Sea of Fire, but the land had changed, rising and breaking, and now the water ran in salty rivers and parched lakes rather than a flowing sea.
The people of Quarrel's End could still sail to the sea on their rafts, but the fishing was less than it used to be—and with the sea mostly gone, and the climate hot, the rainfall had fallen. And so Atheos burrowed into the ground, in the form of a tiny rodent. When the earth dried, he guided and shaped it as it cracked; the islands themselves began to parch in the heat, forming crevices that water flowed into. And the tribes of the island saw this, and took their own tools to widen the cracks and rivers, the water filtering through rock and into the soil to remove the salt and ash that the new "sun" had left behind. And with more light to grow in, the harvests began to return.
On the lake, an odd thing happened. After the destruction wrought by the new godling the wildlife died in droves. The predators became lean and the Cull adapted in a most surprising way. One day a great Crested with a crown and halo of bleached bone walked into Quarrel's End. On his feet were fins and his neck was slatted like a fish. He walked into town without hostile intent and sat down in the square. His bones were visible and even though he radiated pride and strength and intelligence, anyone looking at him knew he was starving.
Years ago, just after the Cull had started their hunt....
It was evening and the sun was just setting on the horizon. The yellows mixing with the blues and purples swashing through the skies were beautiful. Aisha stared with her hands on her hips admiring the beauty after she had just called her children in for supper, her dress flowing in the breeze.
Life on the frontier has been wonderful, she had thought to herself. She then reminisced of her and her husband's decision to chance going beyond the bounds of Quarrel's End. He was a scout for the colony. He took trips out looking for good things and bad, useful information for the colony. It was not uncommon for him not to be home until just after dark.
Aisha was trying to tuck in her two boys into bed when the younger one, Klephin, began waving a broom around as a sword.
"I'm the Lion King!" he proclaimed. "I'm gonna be the best scout ever! Even better than Dad!"
"Now, now. Even scouts like your Dad need to rest so that they can do their job,"
"But Mom-"
"No butts...out of beds!" Aisha proclaimed as she had herded the two into their beds. After kissing them goodnight she closed their door and walked back to the dining room.
He should have been home by now, she thought as she served another plate of food.
Aisha waited for a couple more hours without her husband's return. She began to worry.They'd never had any big troubles thus far. After worrying for several more minutes Aisha resolved to go ask her neighbors. They had a scout in their household too. She gathered her cloak about her and went out into the night. As soon as she closed the door to her house she noticed an odd stillness. Something was odd about this. It was too quiet.
Just as that thought crossed her mind she heard a bloodcurdling scream come from her neighbors house and saw some oddly shaped creatures surrounding and inside. These creatures were out of nightmares! They stood on four legs and had spears for arms. Immediately she spun back around to get back to her house but after she had she saw the same shaped creature surrounding her house now too. Within seconds she heard some muffled noises from inside. Aisha let out an unfathomable yell/moan, processing what had just transpired to her children. The grief was overwhelming. The world around her began to spin and lose its purpose. The last thing she saw was one of these creatures dashing at her. Its spear arm millimeters from her face. Its sharp toothy maw open in elation and hunger.
When the pain subsided anger replaced it. Aisha was very, very angry. She opened her eyes in surprise to see the exact same thing she closed her eyes to. She looked around and it was like the world had froze.
"Aisha."
A voice called her name. She looked around and saw the origin. There was a figure, of the same kind of shape as a human, but also more of a silhouette. Around the edges of the silhouette radiated wisps of shadow, like the figure was steaming shadow.
"Aisha, you are angry."
"Of course I am," was all she could muster as she was reminded once more. There was a strong pang of deep sadness and created a fountain of hatred and anger within her.
"Yes Aisha. Of course you are. Without warning or provocation your entire family's life was cut short and almost yours as well. Do you know why Aisha?"
"N..not really," she could not focus on anything. Her head raced for answers, blaming anything and everything.
"Because Aisha. Because your god does't care about you Aisha. Your god cares little if you live or die Aisha. Your god could have protected your family, but did not. Your god doesn't care Aisha, but I do. I wish to give you a tool against these monsters Aisha. A tool of magic to hinder them. With this tool you will be able to protect other people. Protect other families so that none will have to go through what you have Aisha."
The figure is silent for many moments. To which Aisha's mind races.
"Well Aisha? Would you like to learn to use this tool?
It took little time for Aisha to agree, and in just as much time she was gone.
***************
Aisha spent much of the remaining time in a barren spherical chamber save a long pedestal with a strange metal cube on top. In this room the figure taught her how to use magic through strange geometric patterns.
***************
After what seemed like an eternity she had perfected it
"Now you will be using this on the creatures I delivered you from. Those creatures use magic to keep in constant contact. This is what you will be disrupting for short periods of time. I will now send you to those who need this of you and need it soon. Now go and remember, your gods are not to be trusted." As it said that last part Aisha felt a pain on her arm and she then appeared before a great hall.
As she stared in wonder, she noticed where the pain was were words written.
Seven created this ‘verse, has it been written well?
Everyone pitched in, Sakaz, Tissari, Aped, Aranaea, Atheos, and Liriiestil
Seven’s secret hides where the first books dwell
While sitting in the square of Quarrel's End, the Crested in its starving regal appearance began to stiffen and slowly turn to stone.
On the newly created statue appeared a message in the stone:
I will protect you --Atheos
No, Atheos thought, as he watched the city, This is not right at all.
As the curious city folk, who had come to observe the and fearsome strange creature, saw it turn to stone, there was a rumble, and a creak. The statue shifted and stretched its arms. When it stopped, the inscription read:
I will not protect you. Choose your enemies wisely. --No One
Zakaz's eye twitched. Someone just moved against his Cull. Someone divine. But who was hidden from him. He wound have to find out. The first Divine Hunt had begun.
Toss around doubles over in laughter upon seeing Atheos do his work. "Apparently I was wrong! Happens more often than you think. Well, good day anyways! I have some other stuff to do!" Tissari disappears in a flash of light.
"Yes, it seems my Thirdfather once again breaks his own decrees in order to fulfill them." Therien says, his voice evening and deepening as he finds it, yet still full of pops and crackles.
1Ap: Create mundane concept: The hypocracy of the Gods.
Therien began examining the moon below. Surely the creatures below had marked the differences his light brought. Some took their cue from Thirdfather Zakaz while others could not take the changing conditions. These withered and died, but we're often replaced by others of the Thirdfather's creations.
Therien was pleased by the fear he felt among the dying hordes. These creatures were not strong enough to survive such a change, and unworthy of the Thirdfather's blessings. Still, those who adapted would be called worthy. Even the Thirdfather had become something else with the advent of Therien's birthfires.
His fires must touch the other Thirdfather's creations as well,but it was not yet time.
From his place beside the Shard of Creation waiting for the Chosen to arrive, a shard of Zakaz went out to Atheos near Quarrel's End. He approached silently, appearing with a shiver in the spine and a feeling of being watched. He stepped into reality beside Atheos and growls like imminent thunder.
Did you act against my creation, Lord of Nothing?
Just a few hours after the first Crested is turned to stone two more appear. The first literally drops from the sky. Instead of piercung, barbed upper arms, she sports a long network of thin bones with skin stretched between them. She lands in a great cloud of dust and immediately stats examining the area. She is fierce and wild, but also displays no clear hostile intent. Her crest is a strip of feathers running down her spine.
The second is like the stone one with gills and fins, but his skin is slick and scaled, not unlike a fish, and he sports four eyes in pairs of two on either side of his head. This one sits by the stone one and waits. His crest is a pattern of bioluminesent stripes running from his snout back across his face like tiger stripes.
Therien spoke again, directing his words to the departed goddess "Tissari, you are the only of my kin to have visited me. And while you did so to threaten me and then beg me, I would give you a boon for your acknowledgement."
Therien moved his will to transform one of the moon's mindstorms into a storm of blood rather than energy. Where this storm moved, blood soaked the land.
After the Blood Rain soaked an Itaran village, Therien projected his consciousness into the form of a thin, elderly Itaran, and slowly gathered as many Itarans suffering from age and lack of creativity as he appeared to.
He spoke in a frail, elderly voice. "The Eternal Eclipse has spoken to me, my friends. He has told me of a great magic new to the world." he gathered a pool of the blood from the storm's puddles and demonstrated, using the blood to stave off the ravages of time, actually reversing the damage an Itaran would suffer from being uncreative. He used the blood to heal torn flesh, to invigorate muscle, and to stimulate the mind. He showed the gathered the means to use blood in these manners, using the storm's remnants. "Now, if we follow the storm, we can continue our lives and reverse the unnatural effects our given lack has forced upon us."
He lowered his voice, smiling "Of course, there are other sources of blood."
1 AP: Alter Land to create the Bloodstorm
3 AP: Magic Concept (Blood Magic)
Tissari looks at the blood storm on the moon, deadpan. "Well, this will surely be interesting!" she cheerily remarks as the blood cultists begin to spread across the moon. "I should at least give the irtara chance," she mused. "And anyways, I've been wanting to see what this 'war' thing that Apedemark's got going is about!"
"...they may need more help." Tissari watched as the irtara started to scramble in preparation for the cultists. "Well. Um..." She suddenly appears behind Apedemark and taps him on the shoulder. "Hey! The irtara created a bunch of stuff you might like. Was an interesting exercise. Not really an exercise though, because a bunch of blood cultists are starting to overtake the moon. Ooh! Yeah, there's a new god too. Kind of prickly, made out of fire, sorta started the whole cult thing."
"I am so pleased you liked my gift, Sparks. I see I have inspired you." Can the Sun blush? "My, my, such an effort to destroy what I have created. I played by your rules, created, gave them choices. Some follow the Bloodstorm, some have made other choices. And, look! That one is about to make a choice as well!"
Therien looks on as a cornered Bloodmage uses a pint of her own blood to fend off an Itaran witch hunt. Woozy, she wobbles as she bends over her would-be attackers and replenishes her supply with a thin blade.
Tissari shrugs. "True! Everybody should be allowed to make their choices in life, not just deities. The users of your gift want to feel powerful, respected once in their life, so they made the choice to use blood magic. I can't really fault them for that! Can't fault the irtaran paladins taking up arms to defend themselves and others either. That's their choice. They're all marvelous, really, creating, innovating, all in an effort to make life better in some way for themselves." She turns to Therien and smiles. "What? You think I planted all of those silly ideas in their heads? No! That's the beauty of it all. They created them themselves, to survive, to adapt, to innovate, to live another day to love another irtara."
It's at this moment that Zakaz appears. His presence is announced before he arrives by a feeling of existential dread and that you are being watched by something unseen.
He appears from nowhere prowels around the pair, a low thunder in his chest. Did either of you act against my Cull? he growls.
Mirri breathed in, then out. Pushing away all of the manic calculations, the desperate analysis, the rambling voice of reason that was telling her that there was no way that she could survive this, Mirri leapt to the next tree, hardly making a sound.
She had observed the way the Cull worked. After all, despite the barbarity of her current situation, Mirri was still a scientist. The Cull would not let go of the scent of prey. If Mirri just tried to flee, they would follow her to the ends of the planet.
Unless the irtara proved to be too much trouble.
The Cull in this region had apparently evolved to take advantage of the forested landscape. Their carapaces were gnarled and brown, with occasional green fibrous growth, and the spurs in their legs most likely enabled them to climb. Mirri thought back to her initial fear of leaves, of all things. It didn't seem nearly as funny now.
They were expert predators. Silent, stealthy, deadly. But Mirri had one thing that the Cull didn't have: intelligence. Or at least she thought she did.
Mirri continued to move from tree to tree, estimating the number of the pack. Ten, maybe twelve. Taking out four of them would most likely be sufficient to convince the beasts that their time was better spent elsewhere.
Stifling the screaming panic, Mirri found her first target. It was prowling near the edge of the pack's radius, attempting to pinpoint Mirri's location. Bracing herself, Mirri jumped down from the tree, diving downwards with her crude weapon aimed directly at the beast's head. The landing was going to hurt.
With a soft crunch, the stick pierced the monster's brain, killing it instantly as she stumbled to the ground. Mirri allowed herself a small moment of satisfaction before she heard the growls of the rest of the pack closing in on her. Then she allowed herself a small moment of panic before she collected herself.
The ambience of the sound indicated that the Cull was closing in from all directions. No escape, then. Her stick was too firmly lodged in one of the beast's brains to pull it out. No weapon either. The Cull weren't nice when attacking prey: they dealt with it brutally, efficiently, swarming it all at once rather than coming at it one at a time. Mirri didn't have a lot of time.
Settling herself into a more solid stance, Mirri called upon the power of the storm.
She had been an expert stormwielder on Kirtavo, of course, but Mirri had previously only used her abilities for experiments and occasionally jumpstarting an uncooperative piece of machinery. And, anyways, Kirtavo was too far away to draw any significant power from the storms. Yet Mirri still felt that familiar tingle, and she willed the electricity to channel into her hands and feet, felt it coursing through her veins. The blue glow illuminated the dark forest.
It was impractical down here, anyways. That's why Mirri never used it. Although technically her stormwielding packed far more punch than her stick, Mirri could only manifest the energy around her own body due to the limited access to the moon. Reach was better than power while hunting. But she was fighting now, and power mattered.
All at once, the Cull attacked, fangs beared and launching themselves at the irtara. Mirri guided some of her power to her neural cortex, slowing time down, giving her more time to think. There. That one was slightly ahead of the others. Its mistake. Mirri, gritting her teeth, charged straight at it, sliding under the beast. With all the strength she could muster, Mirri punched the monster's underbelly, discharging the energy she held in her hand into it. It flew upwards, its innards burnt to a crisp. Turning, Mirri barely scrambled out of the way of another attack, before a different Cull managed to latch onto her arm. Growling, she slammed her other hand into its forehead, releasing the energy once again, frying its brain. Straining her muscles, Mirri pried its jaws off of her forearm and tossed its body at another attacking Cull, temporarily knocking it back.
A warcry started to form in Mirri's throat, but she stifled it. If there were any other predators around, Mirri didn't want to attract their attention. The rest of the pack started circling Mirri, now wary of this strange new creature. She gave them a feral smile before diving forward, grappling one of the beasts and wrenching its head to the side. Its neck snapped with the sick sound of bones and carapace cracking.
The Cull all charged once again. Mirri kicked one out of the way, killing it with pent up storm energy in her foot. But they still kept coming. The irtara smacked one's claw swipe out of the way with her arm, dodged another's lunging bite, fended off a surprise attack through sheer intuition, elbowed a body out of the way. There were just too many. Snarling, Mirri used the last of her storm to electrify another beast, giving her slightly more room. Before the force completely blew the monster away, however, Mirri grabbed it and ripped one of its claw arms off. That would do for now.
Half their pack was dead, but the Cull still didn't relent. Dodge, parry, block, parry, parry, dodge, kick, stab through the stomach. Another one down. One of the cull jumped at Mirri once again, but she turned its momentum against it, snatching it by the scruff of its neck and sending it colliding with one of its fellows, breaking both's backs. Two left. Block, block, one of the cull slashed across Mirri's torso. She ignored it. Parry, dodge, parry, block, punch to the snout to stun, thrust with the claw arm through the open mouth to finish it.
The final Cull rushed Mirri in a suicidal charge. Tossing it an enraged glare, Mirri set her "weapon" against its attack, piercing the Cull through its neck.
That was it. That was it. No it wasn't. A taller, more imposing, more... composed Cull approached Mirri. It looked her up and down, nodded, then simply left.
Mirri collapsed to the ground, panting. How... how did she do that? How did she survive? There was no way... But there had been no data before. No precedent. Taking a look at all the fallen Cull, Mirri smiled. At least she had proper armaments now, and maybe some sort of protection. And at least a month's supply of meat.
Tired, hurt, and triumphant, Mirri set to work.
Tissari appears genuinely concerned. "What happened? Is the species alright, or was it just an isolated incident? Oh, and this is Therien, by the way. Therien, angry god of fire and stuff, meet Zakaz, less angry god of nature and animals and stuff."
The scrutiny of Zakaz focuses mainly on the new guy. He looks him up and down like a cat deciding whether disembowling a rat was worth the effort. One of my creatures, one of the eldest Crested, was just turned to stone at Quarrel's End, Atheos' city. This isn't normally a concern except that who did it was hidden from me.
Liriiestil, currently unaware of the turmoil amongst the other gods, was busily writing on the walls of the same 'classroom' where he previously taught the Lirthari. He's scribbling bizarre, esoteric formulae, in flowing Elven. As he wrote, the sigils, glyphs and runes began to glow. He described the laws of the universe, both the one that currently existed, and what little he remembered of the prior one. He explained that these rules could be bent, and even broken by those with a powerful enough will. One could alter reality, shape matter, and command the very elements, should they be of sufficient mastery. When he was done, he had covered all four walls, the floor and even the ceiling in in-depth explanations of this and much, much more.
He then teaches this sorcery to an elite squad of archers among his people, showing them how to combine powerful magicikal attacks with their deadly arrows.
Therien examined Zakaz with all the contempt of a teenage boy who has realized his father is not the hero he imagined as a child. "Hidden? With all your predatory senses, Thirdfather? Are you sure you're as strong as you say, if your doubt makes you think a being of pure fire and light such as myself could hide from you?"
Therien stared into his progenitor's eyes, voice raised, booming and crackling, hissing and sparking. "When I destroy your creatures, it will be in a blaze, not some mewling, silent, secret thing. You will smell their fear and pain over the scent of their burning flesh. It will prove me worthy of being your son, Thirdfather. You will be enraged and proud, and our blood shall create life anew upon the mortal firmament."
Aside, to Tissara "Stuff? Didn't you invent language?"
The Sun's booming crackles went barely recognized by the Progenitor. He is on the hunt. The blathering of a newborn god was secondary.
Watch closely, Tissara. There is a deity here in this universe who does not want to be found.
He turns to leave, but pauses. Welcome to life, Therien. Try not to ruin it for yourself.
"Do you assume," Atheos replied to Zakaz, "That it is within my nature to turn a creature to stone, then carve my own name in it for all to see? Perhaps I need to explain things better next time. We are dealing with an impostor, and a poor one at that."
I assume that the possibility existed, however remote. You have been forced to act against your nature recently to ensure the world's creation wasn't hopeless in your own eyes.
In any case, keep your eyes open. The is a god here who doesn't want to be found.
When the first mortal creature died, something stirred deep within the bowels of the ocean. Azrael felt the soul flitting about in the water above him, and as the godling slowly became whole he felt the mass of souls that now surrounded him; they churned about as a violent mass, each one struggling against the gravity of his power. The young godling kept himself cloaked beneath the waves as his collection of souls grew further and further still, testing the limits of his power as he tried to force the disembodied souls that had flocked to him to obey his will. Slowly, the souls ceased their maelstrom and hung about him like a haze, a cloak of mist as he finally rose from the depths to explore the world he had never seen. "I cannot be the only one," he thought, before at the same time wondering how he could know that. "Someone else must have made all this," he mused, as he came upon the land. He cast a look up to the eclipse in the sky, squinting; the depths of the ocean had been dark, and the harsh light of the sun was not something he had expected when he emerged from the depths. As the sunlight dazzled him, he felt the souls that gathered about him begin to toss and roil yet again, and despite even his godly power he felt some break away from his control, if only for a brief moment.
The churning soul stuff careened across the landscape as a torrent of rain and hail, a force of booming thunder and howling winds. It tore across the land leaving devastation in his wake, and Azrael could feel each soul the storm destroyed as it made its way to him, each one unraveled making it harder for him to assert his control over the others. The godling feels even the soul stuff around him roil and toss as the sea rises beneath his floating form. The waves crash against the shore of the land and the wind whips his cloak around his body, until at last Azrael felt the true seed of his power. "ENOUGH!" he shouted into the cloud, and at once it came to a standstill. "I am Azrael, and you shall come to me to await judgment upon your eternal souls. My judgment is total and absolute, and until such a time that you pass to your eternal resting place you shall obey my commands." The young god panted, his breathing heavy, and he felt the vast stream of souls settle again.
With a trembling hand, Azrael reached out not into the air but into the very fabric of the cosmos, wrapping it about his fingers as he twisted and contorted it to his needs. When he was done, the great cloud of souls now sat in silvered pools, stretching as far as even the godling's eyes could see. The mists hung over the pools like a blanket, each pool so perfectly still as to be a mirror. Azrael glanced down, felt the mask over his own face, and stood triumphant over his creation. He reached out and plucked a soul from the eternal mist, and held the fragile thing in the palm of his hand. "I am Azrael, Lord of The Shallows."
Tissari sticks out her tongue at Therien. "Hey! Don't knock 'stuff!' It's a very useful word! Conveys a variety of meanings depending on the context it's used end. Versatile tools are the best. And besides, as the," she takes on a false pompous air as Apedemak, "creator and ultimate arbiter of my holy tool of words," she drops the false tone and grins, "I feel like I should have license to violate at least some rules of grammar, shouldn't I?"
Deep within The Shallows, Azrael walked the stony edges of the ponds. The soul stuff glimmered, mercurial, despite the darkness. "No, this won't do," he said aloud, looking around him. With a wave of his hand, a massive palace of polished stone jutted from the ground. The pools of souls sat scattered about its base, the rivers of the silvered substance now flowing from within Azrael's sanctum. He felt the torrent of rain pelt his cloak and wet his palms as the winds threatened to blow the mask from his face, the crack of thunder echoing through the vastness of the chamber. At the feet of his throne stood the largest pool. Still as death despite the storm that raged around the seat of his power, it drained from beneath out into the ponds where the souls of the dead had gathered. Azrael grinned, or at least felt that he did, beneath his mask as the mists gathered around him again. He sat back against his hewn throne and gazed out into the nothingness beyond what he had created. "Where are the others?" he asked, his voice echoing. "This world was not wrought by my hands, the others must be... somewhere. I don't even know where to start looking."
"Indeed, it seems that many of our brethren feel their own rules to be the best ones to break." Therien quips.
"Who breaks what rules?" Lir asks, appearing out of nowhere near the trio of gods, squinting in the super brightness that is the new sun. "Any chance you can turn yourself down some, buddy?"
"Fair. Kind of a rough spot philosophically, you know? I mean, I just naturally ramble and talk in a weird way, but yeah, occasionally you have to break the rules you've set for yourself in order to establish something about that rule, if that makes sense?" Tissari gives a friendly wave towards Lir. "Hey, Lir! Ooh, don't ask that. He might get touchy."
** spoiler omitted **...
"Turn myself down? No, no chance. In fact, I intend to burn even brighter given the fullness of time. As to rule breaking, one need look no further than Atheos' recent actions, or, for that matter, your own in sharing the gifts meant for your people with members of a pact you refused to join. Or perhaps you merely wish to test the strength of your creation against theirs on a more equal footing."
Therien shines "I admit, I quite admire your Lirthari. There is a purity to the creation based upon elemental forces beyond flesh and blood. I feel a certain.... kinship with them."
Dancing around the Elfgod much like his Thirdfather prowled in the early days, he continues "There will come a time when the Pantheon's creations will become an enemy of your children. Allow them to adapt to my presence, and they will thrive in this conflict. My light will grow in time, and our elemental connection may prove superior. Fire and lightning will become awesome tools of devastation."
"Wait a sec, did you just say I broke some rule(possibly one of my own), because I shared something I created with the other gods, even though I didn't want to join their pantheon?"
"As near as I can tell, you're out to create your own vision for these people, yet you hand their future enemies the very tools you have crafted. Perhaps it is not one of your rules not to do that, and you are every bit as dim as you wish me to be." Therien crackles. "If not your own rule, then you violated the basic rules of survival asset down by Thirdfather AZakaz. But maybe predator and prey can live in harmony without strife or struggle for dominance. Maybe."
Zakaz snuffs and turns again. I have more important thing to do than listen to this.
There is a god we do not know, Lir, and it doesn't want to be found. Keep you're eyes open.
He disappears, off to continue his hunt.
-----------------
Zakaz prowls the world. His presence is felt as a moment of paranoia, a shiver down the spine, a cracking branch in the woods. Finding nothing, he steps into the place between worlds. On one hand stood Atheos' realm (which he should visit soon), but on the other did a place he had never thought of. A static place of souls and a lonely god sitting upon a lonely throne.
The god of life entered the land of the dead.
Such a being as Zakaz stood in direct opposition to this place. His every step created life, but here was a place that stood apart and immune to his normal power. He could create life here if he wanted, he had no doubt, but what would be the point? There was no change here, no chaos to promote growth. Only stagnant pools of silver soul stuff.
He floats over this land as a large Eagle and sweeps into the great Hall where he promptly changes form to his normal appearance as a Great Cat. He saw little. A masked being on a throne and not much else.
And who have we here? he rumbles.
"Ah, so you assume that just because I taught Apedemak the basic of archery that I have somehow imparted all my knowledge to my potential future enemies?" The god of the Lirthari laughs "Perhaps you are not nearly as bright as I had thought."
Azrael looked up from his throne, a thin smile cracking behind his mask. With a wave of his hand the winds howling through his hall were banished; the storm raged outside, but the inside of his sanctum was eerily quiet. "Are you one of the others?" Azrael asked, cocking his head to the side? "I knew there must be others. I thought perhaps to seek you out, but with what I'd already done I knew it was a matter of time before you felt the ripples, wherever you are." Azrael stood from his throne and straightens to his full height, walking forward until only the silver pool stood between him and Zakaz. "My name is Azrael, and this... is The Shallows, where all souls await my judgment. Who are you? Are there more of us, or are you and I the only ones?"
Zakaz settles a bit. This one was far more agreeable than that fiery child of his.
I am Zakaz. I am the Progenitor. Most of the souls you keep here are from creatures I created in a plane not far from this one.
There are several more gods there. One in particular, Atheos, god of reason and grumpiness, Will be eagre to teach you all he thinks you should know. The others and I will teach you the rest.
I still warn you, however, that there is one who is hiding its presence from us and acting against me. I am on is trail, whatever it is. Be wary of secretive gods. They are never up to any good.
"I keep only one secret, and that I even keep from myself," he said, his mask expressionless. "No, death makes all things equal, even gods, and secrets are no different. I'm sure I've learned my fair share, but something tells me the piddling secrets of mortals will be as interesting to you as they are to me." Azrael plucked one ethereal soul from the mist that hung about him, before flicking it off into one of the endless pools around his sanctum. He looked down at the pool at his feet, the mask expressionless. "However, mortals do pick up on the most interesting things... if a soul comes to me with a tale about your secret god, you'll be the first to know." Azrael chuckled a bit, seemingly uncharacteristic of the gloom that hung over The Shallows. "I'll leave you to your hunt, then, but I'd ask that you leave here; it seems only right that I meet our ken, and I assure you no gods are living here. Nothing is living here. I checked." He laughed again and clapped his hands, before his form began to fade. "It's been nice meeting you, really."
-----
"Hello?" Azrael said, jaunting from nothingness into the plan Zakaz had mentioned to him. "I... was told others were here."
Storms and Shadows, I am Sun and Light. You, I will feed. As I grow brighter, your realm will grow darker and fuller. We are new, and must by our natures challenge the old. I am Therien. The Eternal Eclipse speaks to the new cousin.
Tissari pops into existence behind Azrael. "Oh, please, Therien. I'd hope with your whole 'rage against the heavens' thing you've got going there you'd at least abandon the ridiculous melodrama that seems to be all the rage." She offers a hand to Azrael, a bright smile on her face. "'ello! I'm Tissari. If you really want to get into what I "do," I'm, well, our resident mad scientist, of a sort. I just kind of go around making things and watching over the irtara. I'm also dabbling a little bit in magic, and I guess emotions are my thing too. I don't really see why we need to put ourselves in boxes, though! For example, cooking. I love cooking. It's a wonderfully human invention! I'm taking it up in my free time, which I have a lot of, because of the whole weird time-dilation thing we deities go going for us."
"Shadows? Where are you getting that business from? There are no shadows in The Shallows nor anything to cast them; souls may give off a beautiful glow, if you ask me, but they hardly cast shadows from their rocky pools. And what's this business about challenging?" Azrael asked, cocking his head to the side. "Perhaps you feel the need to challenge them, I don't see any good reason to. What do I gain out of it, hmm? I feel no need to go mucking about in the business of others." When Tissari offers her hand, Azrael grabs it with his own; it's so pale as to be nearly white with the skin stretched thin over his bones, but his grip is like a vice. He shakes her hand for a few moments before he withdraws his arm once again beneath his voluminous cloak. "My name is Azrael. I was born to judge the souls of the dead."
"Too much to hope for,I see." Therien sighs, with a sound of steam escaping firewood. He enters a pouty silence.
"Ooh, that's interesting!" Tissari claps her hands at Azrael's declaration of his purpose. Turning to Therien, she claps him on the flaming back. "Aw, chin up! I'm sure that you'll eventually find somebody as eager to undermine creation as you do! And anyways..." Tissari turns back to Azrael. "I don't believe we've set up where souls actually go after their judgement, have we? I think I have just the idea for that. Therien, you might like this..." Tissari, with a wave of her hand, conjures a vast luminescent orange display, spiraling with mathemagical equations, blueprints, scribbled notes in terrible handwriting, and the occasional doodle. She begins quickly arranging and rearranging some parts, muttering to herself, and the two gods present can begin to see a shape taking form in Tissari's mind and on her workspace.
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Araneae danced in the heavens as the gods went about their activities, bringing civilisation of sorts to the various creatures that now roamed the lands. The Mother of Spiders was content to watch as they played their games and their creations fought and died. Finally, however, a great change in the heavens drew her ire as a new god birthed a great shining orb which scorched the very land, obscuring the light of her stars from her chosen on the planet below. She watched as the sea dried and the living things suffered. And she knew that this was not the path fate had marked out.
And so Araneae searched and, finding Therin, she appeared before the Eternal Eclipse, she spoke "You would cast the world aside from the path? Do you think others here do not see what you do? You would have your light bake the earth and cause nothing but pain and suffering? Stand aside for I am the Fateweaver, The Mother of Spiders. It was I who created the stars that you try to outshine. IT SHALL NOT BE SO."
And Araneae circled the sun, trailing behind herself a gossamer thread of fate. And Araneae pulled, drawing the sun away from its place and sending it spiralling around the earth. "I am Araneae, one of the first gods. Listen to my decree Shining One. - All celestial creations will circle the earth according to my will - Your light will no longer be merely a source of pain - but of life - of seasons, of growth and renewal!"