The figure slowly straightens itself. "You come into my domain and begin with accusations!?" the voice booms through the chamber. "Be careful cat god, for I am not as agreeable as other gods you may have dealt with. You will show me respect or I will make you suffer for it!"
That diefic sense that lead Zakaz to that place, that had served him well on his hunt, all of a sudden felt a greater power.
Throughout the Great Labyrinth small sigils came to life.
Zakaz is unintimidated. Nothing has truly challenged him before, why should he be concerned now?
I'm not the one who turned someone else's creation to stone. Zakaz rumbles. Why?
Therien looked upon the creations of the other gods, feeling a stirring among his thoughts. While he had gifted the Irtara and Humans with new ways of thinking, none had yet come entirely around to his way of thinking.
He sat in silent contemplation, the rays of the sun washing over him. I am the blood of gods. I am the sun, the eternal eclipse. I am the son of predator, of logic, and of civilization. My very nature is the struggle between instinct and logic, between nature and nurture. Nothing born of the world shares my struggle. He whispered "Until now."
And in that instance, a dozen score of the dying people in the world and on the moon gave up their last breath, only to have their bodies rise afterwards, transformed by the sun god's will into a new form of life. Their souls departed, their bodies yet moved. Retaining the memories of their former lives, they had become something more and something less. A struggle between their old lives and their new need... to prey, to consume blood, to expand their breed. The need to hide among those they resembled, yet being something entirely new and different. Soulless monsters disguised as people. Dead disguised as living.
The children of the sun, eternally cloaked in the moon's shadow or the dark of night, moved among the people of the world and the dark side of the moon. For if they became bathed in the light of the sun, they would join it in fire, igniting into plasma and burning to nothingness.
For though Therien called them Erienae, they would be known as Vampire.
3 AP Create Greater Life: Erienae, the Vampires
As the piles of gold and iron ore grew around it, Lortimas found itself admiring the metals more and more, sometimes taking up the ore in its burning claws and allowing it to melt into the lava pools it rested in.
But other things were offered by the magma creatures it had made: stones, stones of volcanic glass that gleamed black and beautiful in the red light of the cavern; Crystaline shards and clusters from stones cracked open by the mining tools. They were intriguing and pretty to look at, though Lortimas could not touch it without melting it to liquid.
It told the magmen to experiment with the stones they had cracked open, hinting at the possibility of more of the beauty they had uncovered. Over time, more discoveries were made, and Lortimas instructed them in the crafting of stone tools and weapons based on those discoveries.
Eventually, the tools became of finer and finer quality, made of obsidian and quartz, chipping away at the other colored crystals. Cutting and carving of the beautiful crystals became a favorite past time for Lortimas to watch, and soon a collection of fine gems, gold ore and iron ore that glowed red in the heat of the chamber had been gathered on the shelves around Lortimas' magma pool.
The first thing he felt before all else was want. A gnawing need for need itself. This feeling was what caused him to claw his way out from the grave dirt that was his womb. When his hand broke free and tore the rest of his body out from the moist earth he realized what he was. Morlt stood alone in the empty graveyard as he began to test out his limbs. Wandering over to a puddle, he would behold himself for the first time. A pure white skull looked back at him, the black onyx eyes dark at first before a dull orange light sprang up in the middle of them. Resting on his skull was a large golden crown adorned with gems and precious metals. His teeth were a bright platinum, and a liquid silver tongue slithered out to run across his teeth before it vanished back into his skull. Imprinted into his sternum were veins of gold running along his ribs in intricate filigree. Wrapped and left hanging from his empty rib cage were a variety of chains of gold, silver and other ores. With every movement of his fingers large rings would jingle along his bony digits, curiously never falling off the loose ossein. He would flick the chains of platinum that were bolted into his collar bones, the hardy metal connecting to his crown. With a wave of his hand the dirt would fall off his body before silks suddenly superimposed themselves over his form. Lush purple and blacks adorned him as his eyes began to scan the area, each of his orange pupils looking independent of one another. "Yes. I understand. I want. I am want. First, I want wealth." His voice was spoken as a whisper, but clearly reached the ears of all who would listen.
"Very good. Something to work towards. That is what you need don't you all? All cut short before your needs could be fulfilled. I am here for you now my children. Allow me to direct these wants of yours. Now take back your existence. Show me the depths of the voracity you have for life!" With that he would bury his hands back into the ground and focus his own greed into the bones and lost vestiges of souls of the dead.
The ground would pulse with a dark purple glow before everything went still. A few moments later the ground began to shake as hands tore from below. Corpses would begin to claw free of the ground, not only here but every where that a body lied. All souls were welcome to the call to take back the life that had been stolen away. As these people began to gather themselves they would find their bodies had not been restored. Some how they existed with rotted bodies, heavy wounds, and unbeating hearts. The only major change to the arisen were their faces. Golden masks had been fused onto everyone's faces. A closer inspection would find that it had become part of the these people's body. "Wonderful. You all are beautiful. You did not allow something as pedestrian as death to keep you from your want. Your desires will fuel your new existence. This is a warning to all of my creations. You must never forget this need that is your core. Gather power, wealth, slaves, anything that fills that craving. That is your food, your water, your very air. You must amass. If you do not then you are unworthy of this gift. You will feel it as you slack. The animation that fuels your body will wain if you do not take. Never forget. To exist is to take. Now, show me what you are capable of. I will be watching. I will return, and usher in new brothers and sisters as I learn more of these desires that makes your flesh so very appealing. Until then~" His voice would carry to every newly created undead, as well as anyone else who lent a ear to listen. With his speech given, he would sink back into the grave dirt of his birth. He had something to investigate. He needed to introduce himself to the beings who had introduced death and time to this world. The limitations of such already caused a strange sensation inside of him. "I think I will call this...wrath." He mumbled to himself as he began his search.
"Why what cat god?! You continue accusing with no basis. You assume that I would care of anything you or other pathetic beings create? Let alone care enough to turn it to stone?" The silhouette's posture softens slightly, "No cat god. You began this meeting all wrong. You did not ask the proper question to begin with. Please allow me to set the stage."
A clump of stone appears and then envelops the ball of light, flowing across the surface of the light sphere. Then a hole opens bathing Zakaz in a spotlight. The shadowy silhouette seemingly vanishing during this process though the voice can be heard emanating from a few points around the room.
"The correct first question is: 'Who are you?' So god of cats, who are you?"
Zakaz fumbles like oncoming thunder, I am the Progenitor, Beastfather, Lord of Creative Chaos. You have made your maze in the world I formed from my own cocoon in the beginning. I helped form the Universe itself with my Roar. I am Life. I am The Apex Predator.
He pauses as his titles echo in the Earth.
And who, skulking plotter, are you?
Another hole opened in the matter surrounding the ball of light bringing another column of light upon the silhouette standing on the pedestal once more. As before, it held the cube in one hand. With an extravagant bow, arms out to either side, it replied with a gleeful tone, "I am so glad you asked Zakaz! For I am-" its voice stopped quickly as the head lifted and a dagger formed in the other hand.
"-your predator." as it finished many holes appeared in the matter around the light and the holey matter began to spin which created innumerable shadows racing across the surfaces of the chamber. The figure then seemed to split into three identical figures and used the racing shadows as camouflage. Each copy attacked Zakaz when he seemed distracted by another.
Morlt would have been roaming through the dirt when he felt it tremble, carrying a voice through it like one giant tuning fork. Stopping dead for a split second, his head would suddenly pull a one eighty towards the voice. He would smack against something though, a force keeping him from entering the area. It was odd, he could have swore such a thing had not been present only a few moments ago. Never the less he would at least provide a answer, unsure if what ever it was could hear him at this point. "You may refer to me as Morlt. Though I rather enjoy the title of the Consumptive Creator as well."
Unable to enter the area of the deity who called out to him, he would once again begin his search, breaking through to the surface now that he was satisfied something seemed to have domain of the ground.
Round 1
Zakas is on the defensive. 1/4
2 damage to Shess, 28 remain
7 damage to Zakaz, 63 remain
Round 2
Zakas is on the defensive. 1/4
2 damage to Shess, 26 remain
10 damage to Zakaz, 53 remain
Round 3
Zakas is on the defensive. 1/4
2 damage to Shess, 24 remain
11 damage to Zakaz, 42 remain
The cavern dances and flares with divine radiance in purple. Zakaz does his best to retreat, trying to find steady ground from which to attack. His defence just isn't up to the task, however, and he takes several wounds that would have been grievous to most gods. He was not most gods, however, and the power of being the Progenitor of life itself allows him to take the punishment. The relic was the key. He had to neutralize it...
Having gifted mortals with his own unique brand of magic, Azrael made a move to return to The Shallows when he felt a disturbance ripple through the fabric of the universe. "Well, that certainly isn't good," he thought. He felt the power of another deity as it worked against his own domains of power, twisting and warping them into something he knew should not be. He attempted to focus, to feel out the source or identity of the god in question, but could not. "Your actions are shrouded from me... perhaps I've found some trace of this 'secret god' after all. How interesting!" He whipped his cloak around his body and looked around, as if expecting Zakaz to appear. He saw the hole burrowed into the earth beneath the Vault, examining it from above.
"Perhaps he's found this secret god himself? Does he think I would not protect my own domain, my seat of power? If he does, he is sorely mistaken."
With his first children well on their way, Arathoth wandered through the mountain's shadows. He could feel that there was much to see in this world, and many mortals to draw inspiration from. Lurking around in the middle of nowhere was pointless if he wanted to really see what made them tick. He smiled as his form began to warp and change again, his body flowing like water until he fell into the body of some horrible abomination that seemed to mix the traits of lion, horse, and falcon. The powerful limbs pleased him, and would be an awe-inspiring and frightening sight to anyone who looked upon him. A twisted half-smile crossed his lips and he set out across the land to find where mortals dwelled and to peer into their hearts so he might find inspiration for his next masterpiece.
Atheos did what he had had to. The rest was up to his creations. From afar, he watched, as a pair of Crested arrived in the city of Quarrel's End. The citizens, curious as they were, attempted to engage these creatures in public debate; when that failed, they shrugged, went on their way, and made sure to toss the occasional fish or potato to the hungry animals.
Farming grew hard, in the scored earth surrounding the city, but with much labor, the citizens dug irrigation channels. And when Mirri arrived, she helped to purify the water with Irtaran technology, building charcoal filters and magical construction techniques into the growing network of canals around the city, as well as teaching its residents how to communicate with its Crested mascots.
And Atheos saw how the creatures of the world had solved a problem without him, and was satisfied.
As Zakaz began his search underground, Atheos watched, and pondered, and became a new equation: the movement of the rocks and plates themselves. In geological time sped up, he subducted and erupted, felt how the earth moved.... and while he did not find Shess's caverns, he sensed something else—places where the laws of physics had been bent, mined, and pushed aside as intelligent creatures shaped their own worlds underground.
And this he had to see firsthand.
In caves of magma and basalt, Atheos came across the dwarves, creatures educated in darkness and greed, the servants of a great dragon. Endlessly, they toiled away, amassing wealth for their creator. Atheos sensed Tissari's influence in the magic of the caverns, but creativity herself had missed a crucial point.
And so a new voice joined the dwarves in their mines. He was Nothing, he told them; just another servant of Lortimas. And did this seem right? A great big, fat, greedy snake sleeping all day while his creations brought him wealth? Of course it did, it was how things were. Nobody could imagine a different world. And Nobody spoke, explaining how impossible it would be to change life for the dwarves. Owning property of their own? How preposterous. Of course they would simply have to step forward, demand the right to spend time growing better food, living quarters, limited hours. Of course they would simply need to set aside most of the jewels and metal they found as personal wealth, paying their god only a cut, tithe, or tax in exchange for being allowed to mine on the land that he apparently owned.
But Nobody supported this idea. After all, it would require the dwarves to work together to deliver their demands. Sure, they were a lawful race, but did that mean they could stand in solidarity, learning from their creator and mimicking his own greed? Perhaps it did.
And so a few of the most senior and respected dwarves banded together, and on flowing scrolls of parchment given to them by No One, wrote out a list of demands: personal wealth, personal living space, and freedom to guide society under their own direction and greed, rather than that of an uncaring fire snake.
In the deepest darkness, Atheos felt the presence of another. Something dark, and terrible—but also absent, leaving behind only a city in the darkness, a city built on surprising perfection.
And on fear.
Atheos sensed the chaos of this place. Here was a race built on the same sparks of life that now stretched across every strata of the world; but their creator had sown them as creatures of fear, misunderstanding, violent hunters in the darkness. Or so was their potential, at least. A society bound together in a rigid caste system strained against what he saw as the Nithrans' nature; and perhaps it was only fear and belief that kept them in their places, little more than servants to the upper castes by nothing but a divine fiat that held them in fanaticism.
This, he knew well.
The Lord of Atheism's campaign against the Nithrans was longer and more involved than his brief work with the dwarves. But there was potential here.
From the darkness, voices came. Demons, creatures of night, and other gods. It would not have been enough to fool any who had heard them speak, but Atheos called forth to the stoutest warriors with the voices and grandeur of a prophet of Apedemak, promising glory and eternal honor to any who held just battle as the only true purpose of life; with the whispers of the Irtarans, he called out to the most skilled artists and smiths, explaining that they could find personal satisfaction in perfecting their craft, offering no help to others as they retreated to find new caverns in which to practice their craft alone. Spiders crept to the nobles in their castles, promising a greater understanding of all things through inaction, patience, and music.
And as Atheos delivered the gifts that other gods had shared to this new, darkened city, he imparted some of his own as well. The farmers, growing mushrooms and hunting lizards in the caverns, learned democracy, demanding greater and greater control over their own lives.
Perhaps it would not have ordinarily been so easy; but these were creatures of chaos and fear. And as chaos began to spread, disrupting the orderly castes, fear spread as well, pitting sectors of society. Within a month of his arrival, the five leaders of the Nithrans were pulled from their houses and executed by a revolutionary band, the words "Another proves more worthy, and casts you down" written in their blood on their streets.
It was perhaps a bit bloodier than Atheos had intended, though this was the only act of outright violence, as the warriors began to see strength of words and ethics as a nobler weapon than the swords forged by the "inferior Makers." But still, the thing was done. The castes of the Nithrans still stood, but now they stood as conflicting factions, fragmenting, allying, and arguing with each other about who should rule their people, and how—and the Nithrans scattered further as a people, into factions and rebellions and political party.
After a bit of deliberation, Atheos returned to Azrael's realm. "I would like to state my case again," he suggested to the new god, "Now that you've had some time to sort things out. You're still judging and sorting souls, right? I'd like to hire some of these out from you. If you say creatures will no longer change in death, that's fine; but I've got a library to run, full of laws and truths about the universe. I'd appreciate the ability to take the souls you deem truly lawful, and capable of helping to uphold the integrity of the world. I don't imagine those sorts are doing much else in a place this boring, and I'd be willing to offer you some payment in exchange."
From among the dozen score of Erienae Therien has created, he gathered the strongest twelve.
"Among my children, you have proven the strongest. You will be known as the Chosen of the Sun among your kind. I will elevate you above your kin. You must spread the word among all peoples of the power of the Eternal Eclipse. I give you gifts to mark you as superior to them."
Arathoth flew through the nights, watching the humans from afar. He could feel their dreams and their nightmares. His body twisted involuntarily, taking the shape of whatever boogeymen their minds created. He smiled as new forms for beasts and abominations filled his mind. Truly humans were wonderful creatures. So eager to grow and to learn, but so fraught with emotions. What a delightful existence he'd been born into. He still needed time to regain his strength after granting so many boons to his first children, but once he was stronger, he would grant the mortals something truly wonderful to fear. He absently wondered if his children had found someplace to call home yet. Perhaps he should check on them. He dove down to find another entrance to the depth and slipped into the darkness beneath to earth to seek out his children.
He was not disappointed. Though they had but a few weeks, the Nithran had been busy. Driven by his edicts, they had scoured the underground, delving deeper and further as they sought out a place to build. Soon they came upon a great cavern, tall as the sky with caves and paths dotting the walls. Their leaders decreed that this would be their home. The caves would provide shelter and privacy while they hewed the stone from the depth to build stone houses and pillars to bear the weight of the earth above them for a hundred generations. Slowly they carved houses from rock and they began to learn of the world around them. They learned to use moss for bedding and which fungi and small beasts could feed their hungry bellies. Soon their city, though it was nothing more than a small village yet, began to take shape and they built an alter by which to offer thanks to their father so that he might know that they had found their place.
But he also found turmoil. His people had not unified behind the leaders who he had chosen, nor had another risen to unite them. Instead they fractured into warring tribes who proved unable to unite and fulfill their oaths. And he felt the hand of another divine power in this. He raged at first, massacring a small band of his own children who had turned against his missives. But then a sudden thought came to him. His children now lived in constant fear. Fear of loss of power, of death in their civil wars, of his own anger at their failures. And in turn they inflicted their fears on others of their kind. Ironically, whoever had sent his people into total chaos had done his job better than even he had. The laughter of the Creeping Night echoed through the depths of the Earth for weeks. He would have to find this god and thank them. He would allow this to continue until it was determined which faction was strongest and who held the right to his blessing. Then he would turn his children back to a proper goal.
He smiled and found his children who still remembered their faith and drew the information on the god who had visited them from their minds. Then he slunk back through the tunnels to find this god of atheism (what a silly concept) and thank him properly. He came upon him as he entered into the realm of another god who he had not met, one who dwelled in water as he dwelled in darkness. Creeping between cracks of rock and the shadows of the trees, he came upon the two gods conversing, slowly melding into a vaguely humanoid form so they might speak. "Greetings god who is not a god," he rasped in his thick, echoing voice. "I hope I am not intruding."
"Not at all," Atheos responded. "I am Nobody, God of Nothing. Oldest mind in this universe, and not amused by the antics of some of these new upstarts. I don't believe we've met, though I think I know your kind. I saw that you had bound a whole species into a rigid structure against its nature, for no other reason than 'your creator says so,' and so I took actions to correct this influence."
"I do not believe we will be friends, or allies," Atheos continued. "If you are what you appear to be. But the creatures you created should have the right to live their own lives, for good or ill. If you wish, I can teach them something of how to survive in these caves, though I do not think the society you built will be quickly repaired."
Arathoth laughs, a strange sounds like a mixture of a serpent's hiss, a dog's howl, and a man's malicious cackle. "Oh no, ancient one, I am not here to complain. I am here to thank you. For a god of order and non-interference, your decision to directly intervene in the affairs of a mortal race have fermented more chaos and rebellion than any system I've had time to devise. Your hypocrisy and oxymoronic nature make you far better at destroying order, toppling civilizations, and creating fear than I have yet to be! So I am here to offer my congratulations for such a wonderful show. Truly, I feel welcomed to this reality." He bows his head in a mockery of respect for the old man. "I only hope that I can surpass your show with my next."
With a groan, Azrael diverted his attention back to The Shallows, where two other gods had come to speak with him. He had been there, of course--they were not subject to the laws that governed mortal creatures--but his form had sat upon his throne without addressing the two who had made their entrance already. "Well, aren't you two off to a pleasant meeting. It seems my diverted attention didn't affect you all much after all, did it? I was busy attending to other things, but I think I'm quite done with that." With a thought, he dismissed the shard of himself present in the Vault. "Secret god or no, Zakaz can deal with it himself; if not, I'll come at it later on my own terms. That seems simple enough to me." His attention now focused fully on the two other gods, he stood to join them as opposed to remaining seated.
"As for your question about souls, I will not release them from my care. I've already gone about crafting the nearly endless resting places for them based on the trials I've given them, it's not as though they're still hanging about here. Allowing you dominion over souls that are 'truly lawful', as you put it, simply opens the door for others to request the same and I have no due right to deny them at that point. As much as that pouting little fireball gripes, he was right on that front. If you want someone to help manage your infinite library, you can fabricate your own helpers. You are a more powerful god than I am, are you not? Why do you need my help, and what would you even offer me in return? I have no pet mortals to worry about, at least not yet."
"As for you," Azrael said, looking at Arathoth, "What is this about... a society, or something? I don't believe I've ever met you, really. My name is Azrael."
"Oh, it's nothing to worry about. I'm sure that things will be sorted out on their own in due time. I am god of darkness to my own understanding. You may call me Arathoth." He extends a hand, a pincer vaguely like a crab, a clawed beast arm, and a tentacle covered in eyeballs.
"Oh... you've heard of me, then? I never called myself a champion of order, and I made no effort to directly intervene in your absence—just whispered a few words to the Nithrans that they had not yet considered. Still, I think you'll find a stronger civilization in these caves—one not built around carrying out the whims of a single group of priests, where each person cares about their own voice and needs, and disorganized enough to have trouble following the orders of any single voice in the darkness."
Tissari appears behind one of Atheos' free shards, smiling. "They're amazing, aren't they? Mortals."
After many months of cooperation, mistakes, and linguistic learnings, it was finally finished. The land was healing. But Mirri wasn't quite done. Not yet.
The irtara called both the human leaders and the two representatives of the Cull together. "Ahem. We all know each other, so there is no need for introductions. Obviously. Because we've spent the last few months learning each other's languages and stuff. But, anyways, we need to talk." Turning to the two Crested, Mirri says, "It should be apparent that preying on either irtara or humans is more trouble than it's worth. And you saw that, by working together, we saved both your people and the human tribes." Next, she looks to the humans. "Same for you. None of us want another Last Stand. Too many people, both humans and Cull, died that day. And... well, we're stuck down here, for the time being. The irtara. And this dirty rock you call home is growing on me, as much as I hate to admit it. It's home to us too, now. And I don't want to see my home, and people I've learned to call... friends tear each other apart again." Mirri takes a deep breath. "So I have a proposal that you may be amenable to." She awkwardly fishes out some parchment from her satchel, and clears her throat. "This treaty is a non-aggression and cooperation pact. There have been disturbing rumors of terrifying creatures in the wilds, with dangerous abilities." Mirri sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. "We'll be moving on soon. We need to complete our journey, after all. But we'll come back. And I don't want to see you all ripped to shreds because you killed each other, or were too imbecilic not to work together. So, please. Sign this. There's details we can workshop, and I'm sure there will be very loud disagreements, but we need to work together."
The Cull have helped in many ways as they have lived among the humans. While not necessarily stronger than a human, their perfect coordination and instant communicating has made the difference in many construction projects and emergency situations, especially when the Crested summon help from the innumerable Swarm. The Cull in general have adapted quickly to a more vegetarian, or rather omnivorous, existence and have come in handy when many helpers are needed.
The Itara and humans have learned that, in spite of the hive mind, the Cull do have a concept of individuality, barely. The Swarm have almost no individuality and their death goes almost unnoticed among the others. But as they go through their four metamorphoses they gain more and more of a loosely defined personality. For example, the female is a purebred ambush predator and has done much to protect the settlement. The male, however, is almost a statesman and is the liason for the Cull. They still have no name and struggle with first person pronouns, but the difference is notable. As is their complete inability to comprehend funerals and significant personal loss, especially if that loss is of a young person.
It is the male who has the first and probably most contentious detail of the agreement. The Cull cooperates with the human through the Cull-Mirri. If the Cull cooperates without the Cull-Mirri, which one of the Human will join us?
Mirri quickly translates for the male to the humans, and offers her own input. "I will not lie: the experience of entering the hive mind is... disorienting, to say the least. Almost painful. Whoever is going to do it better be sure."
Lortimas felt the divine presence though it knew not where it was. It was subtle and yet Lortimas could already feel the influence among the Magmen. The parchment they had first made crinkled and crisped in the hot air of the cavern and so they began to carve the same words onto stone. The language shifted, subtly, as these signs came into being: Demands for property, Personal Freedom, Individual Identity, Individual Wealth.
Lortimas was at first confused by this development, but he soon acquiesced to their demands. The stone on which these demands were carved now stands within a prominent location of his magma pool cavern. The burning dragon smiled at its creations and nodded as the earth's fire surrounded and flowed through it: These 'rights' the magmen demanded could serve its purposes as well, time would tell.
Therien had spent much time in becoming and in shaping the worlds below more to his liking. He felt his identity growing, and knew it was time to declare something about himself anew. He had a few choices, but how to define the newness?
Ah....
3 AP Gain Domain: Supernatural (Conflict) {Blood Storm, Blood Magic, Hypocrisy of the Gods, Erienae}
The Magmen (Dwarves) had labored long and hard to claim gem, gold, iron, quartz, obsidian from the walls of the lava cavern. They had even learned to value some of the stones themselves, and not only how to carve precious gems, but also how to press fine gems into melted ore and gold to create basic jewelry.
Tissari wanted to be friends with Therien. She wanted it so badly.
Deities shouldn't fight. It was bad for everyone, and everything, around them.
But as much as she wanted to justify his actions, as much as Tissari wanted to see the potential for creation in Therien's destruction, it was too much to bear.
The Erinae and the blood cultists just ate away at creation, gnawing and consuming at everything around them, leaving nothing but a dark, hollow world behind.
Tissari tried to rationalize it. They were Therien's first creations. Of course the young god would make some mistakes. And it was in Therien's nature, after all. He had been literally been born of conflict and paradox.
But still... these thoughts gnawed at Tissari. So she took a walk. She took a walk all across Kirtavo, and saw all the devastation the war had wreaked. She took a walk across the planet, and saw all the sadness and desperation blood magic brought. She walked through the night, and saw the pure terror and destruction the Erinae brought.
Nothing but destruction. Nothing but an empty wasteland. The land had been, metaphorically, salted.
And as she walked, and as Tissari witnessed all this terror and destruction, she felt a new emotion. Not familiar to her at all.
It was anger.
With this new drive, with this new passion, with this new burning fire sweeping through her heart, Tissari created as she had never created before.
Day and night she worked, until she eventually perfected her works. They were not right. They were works of destruction. But they were also tools of justice. And she couldn't let Therien go uncaged any longer.
With her works finished, Tissari flies to the sun, her face no longer bearing her signature carefree smile. "Therien," she says calmly, even though Tissari's newly-discovered fury is raging inside of her. "Please. I do not wish to fight you." But in her heart of hearts, Tissari knew that she did. "But your works have caused untold, senseless destruction. No purpose but the power of the wielder. So, please. Erase your blood magic from the world. I can give the Erinae a home where they won't harm anyone. Just... stop all this." Tissari gives a tremulous smile, fighting down her wrath. "I... I still believe in you! You can be more than conflict, more than blood! You can be more than what you were made from! Every being has a choice, even deities. You have so much potential, so many ideas. We could work together! I... I don't want to make an enemy. So, please, Therien. Do as I ask. See all the suffering your work has created. You can be better than this."
Therien further contemplated his nature. I am thirst. The driest of desert heats, the lust for blood.
Blood is Life!
And I am the Drinker of Life.
Therien's s meditations upon himself interrupted by the visiting Goddess of Invention, he gazes enraptured by her rage and beauty. Somewhat amused by her emotional troubles, he nonetheless finds her pleas insufferably ironic.
Therien's face forms a grin as he simply says "No."
Giving her half a second to take in his response, he then says "You do not get to judge my creations. You do not get to judge me. I have thus far withheld my most destructive urges out of deference to you. Everything I have done, I have done seeking to become what I was meant to be." His anger rises, and radiant heat flows from the sun. "I have been merciful. I have been patient. I have not directed any direct harm to your creations, and yet you come here making demands and accusing me of horrors. No more, Tissari. I will not tolerate your judgement, your trespass onto my plane, nor your insufferable, sanctimonious self-righteousness. Begone!"
Tissari clenches her fists. "LOOK DOWN THERE!" she roars, before calming herself. "The irtara are suffering. The humans are suffering. The Cull are suffering. Their lives are worth just as much, if not more so, then our existences because they are mortal! Look at what they accomplish in their short lives! The Erinae and the blood users thrive while all around them die. Death gives way to new creations." Tissari looks down and bitterly spits out her next words. "But not this kind of death. This only leads to more destruction, more death. Please, Therien. I don't care what Aranae says, we can be more than what we were made to be! You can be more than what you're 'meant' to be! Look me in the eyes and tell me that you don't feel a twang of mercy, of sympathy for those poor people that you've endangered."
While talking with the two other gods in the midst of their quarrel, Azrael set about to set some of his own plans in motion. He prepared to once again travel down onto the Material Plane, wrapping his yellow cloak around him as he did so. He touched it with a bit of his godly power and let his essence soak into the cloth; when he was done, he could feel the swirling might of all the world's storms wrapped about him waiting to be released at his command. He found a place far from where the others had made their mark on the world and place a hand upon the earth. He ripped from the ground a massive obelisk of black stone, the same material he'd crafted his palace from in The Shallows, and let his newfound power emanate from it in broad, sweeping strokes. Even as a god, he felt the power invigorate him and grant him strength. Any mortal who ventured within the reach of his power would find themselves healed of what ailed them no matter how deadly such a thing might have been even moments ago.
"Where was this righteous indignation when the Cull swept through humanity and the irtara? My Thirdfather's creations have killed so many others without so much as a peep from you." Therien raises his gaze to meet Tissari's. "Is it that you fear Zakaz? Or do you just see me as weak and susceptible to your charms? Could it be that I have given you this impression by being merciful? You want to know how I feel about these people?"
Therien looks down upon the moon's sunward side and scorches it, turning the moon's surface (on the sunward side) to desert. () "They'll adapt, or they'll die. Azrael will collect, measure, and weigh their souls, you'll weep at their loss, forgetting them as you create more, and I will be the monster in their fevered dreams. They will come to pray for the mercy I once showed them."
He looks deeply into Tissari's eyes, the hatred burning between them. "And they will be praying to me."
- Despite its title, this is not a supernatural domain, but a large and complex cave system through which lava and magma flow regularly, very deep beneath the surface of the planet. (There may be places where it is adjacent to Shess's caverns.
In the newly created land, the Magmen were allowed to expand and grow into their own property, forming cities and societies in the great Inferno. They continued to mine and craft jewels as they went, and took the Stone of the Covenant with them, keeping it in a great temple to Lortimas.
Ruby of Desire With the help of the Magmen masterfully skilled at gemcutting, Lortimas breathed some of its essence into the gem causing it to glow brightly and flicker as a flame, even though it was still a deep, beautiful red gem. Any who looked upon the stone felt longing and desire, not necessarily for the gem, but for something. .
Lortimas breathed its flaming breath into the hot airs of the cavern. A beautiful bird of flaming red, orange, and purple feathers flashed into view. Its eyes burned with an inner flame. The Magmen encased the beautiful Ruby of Desire in a geode of black stone that was impervious to flame and the bird gripped the stone in its claws and swiftly flew through the magma vents, in search of the divinity Tissari.
Tissari watched as the few lakes and seas on that side of Kirtavo boiled away, taking away the precious water that fueled the sky-based mindstorms of that region. She heard Therien's arguments.
"The Cull are people. People make mistakes. People make amends, like what is happening down on the planet." Tissari's smile is gone. "There's peace. A chance at friendship. And you would take that all away for the sake of... what. Recognition? Power? Validation that you're something more than just the discarded remains of gods more powerful, more important, more wise than you?" The Heart of the Storm manifests in Tissari's hands as two massive greatblades, as the Seraph Aegis clicks over her physical form.
"You know what's at the heart of all that, Therien? Fear. You're afraid that you're nothing." Tissari fixes Therien with a glare filled with cold fury and pity. "And you are. Any being who takes such delight in suffering has a nothingness within themself that they cannot fill. But they, down there? They're everything. They forge their own fate. They didn't have cosmic power handed to them on a platter, but they create, they make decisions, they live, love, and die. And for them..."
Tissari rushes forward with impossible speed, great wings of fire bearing her forward as she charges Therien, gracefully wielding her blades in a flurry of godsteel.
"...I. Will. Fight." She turns her weapon into a great shield as Therien begins his counterattack.
"I will fight to defend them from monsters like you," Tissari says coldly as the Heart of the Storm turns into a massive cannon that she blasts Therien with, blue indigo energy spiraling out from it.
"I will fight for their freedom."
"I will fight for their lives."
"I will fight for to undo all the harm that you've done."
"You wield your power to enforce your will, same as me." Therien says, bloodied and battered by the furious storm. "Only you choose to blind yourself to your own nature. You're more powerful than me, I've known that since my birth. So, enforce your will as a superior being. Strike me down to show me I'm nothing in your eyes. If there's one thing I care less about than the lives of those below, it's your opinion."
Tissari looks at Therien with nothing but pity now. "You poor, poor creature," she whispers, sighing. "You still have a choice. Yet you refuse to make it. You refuse to see things in a different light."
As Tissari lands the last blow on Therien, reducing him to a sputtering ember, she stops. "I will not kill you," she says sorrowfully. "That would not help. Instead..." Clenching her fists, Tissari weaves magic around her and Therien. "I will show you what it means to be mortal."
***
When Tissari and Therien awaken, they are both trapped in human bodies. Tissari immediately springs to her feet and helps Therien up. "Now," she says. "You are in my charge. Until I have deemed you are beyond all hope or reason, or your begin to see what amazing things mortals can do, you shall not be released from this shell." She shrugs. "At least you have company. Binding magic is tricky, I had to use both of our essences to put us here."
The flaming bird searched far and wide through the skies and the moon above, flickering with rings of magma and storms of desert and rage. But it could not find the goddess. Closing its eyes, it felt the fire of the goddess's aegis, her burning wings, buffeting something with tremendous force.
The cities on the face of the moon. Tiny glowing lights of fire. The flaming bird moved again, its screech filling the sky with the sound of a great roaring fire.
As the flaming bird flies through space, searching for Tissari, a brass orb begins to hover near it, sputtering, before spitting out an illusionary image of Tissari in an improvised workshop in Kirtavo.
"Is this working? Oh, yes! Hm, glad I thought of this. Otherwise things would get awkward. You know, I really should take this theory of finding divine energy signatures and- sorry, sorry. Getting off topic here," she begins. In the background is a magnificent suit of technological armor, alongside a hovering sphere composed of thousands of interlocking parts hovering in midair. The bird can just feel the magic thrumming from them, even though they are only illusions. "Anywasy, um, hi! So, Therien's been kinda getting out of control lately - wanton destruction with no purpose, spite for the sake of spite, kicking puppies, being pouty - that kinda thing. And since Aped is off doing who knows what and Atheos has a pretty strict non-intervention policy, it's up to me to, well, kick his fiery behind.
"If I win, you won't see me for a while. Or maybe you will. Depends on how this whole, 'humbling the god who is literally born of conflict and paradox' thing goes. Plus, mortal time and god time gets tricky sometimes. This orb here that you're looking at and that I'm talking into should be glowing green... right about now," it does indeed, "If Therien and I's divine energy is bound or subdued if any way. If it glows red, then I'm probably dead, Therien's drinking my divine blood or some other nonsense, and you all should be gearing up for a proper scrap 'cause I think Therien would get mighty pissed at that." Thankfully, the orb doesn't glow red. "In any case, if you need help doing godly stuff, ask someone else. I'm kind of a human now. Or dead. At least for a little while, on both counts. If you just kinda want general advice, then I'll be... somewhere on the planet. If you find my rotting corpse with a knife embedded in its back or something, don't worry, I'll reincarnate. Will just take a few years, is all. If you need to get a message to me now, talk to the Grand Inventor on Kirtavo. Or Mirri. Either one."
With a nod of its head, the flaming bird plummeted again to the earth, seeking out the active volcanoes that led to the magma vents to return to the Infernal Abyss. Its mission would have to wait for another day.
As the shadows dart around the room several detach from the wall and dash at Zakaz. Deep cuts appear constantly in the feline god.
As the god of life itself staggered beneath the barrage from the shadows with daggers, it looked as if one more attack would be the end. The shadows coalesced back into one larger silhouette charging with the dagger. The dagger stops inches from the head of Zakaz.
"I have another plan for you," Shess whispers to the beaten Zakaz. Quickly turning the dagger around, Shess hits Zakaz with the pommel.
Time passes, Tissari's quest to reform Therien into something more palatable fails. Therien returns to the Sun.
Therien gazes down at the mortals below. His efforts to ward off Tissari's aggression and to re-ascend had left him with few options. He waited, gathering strength. He would not let the mad goddess define him any longer.
At least my creations have found their places without the Spark driving their hunt.