Lords of Creation

Game Master stringburka

Deities creating a new world where the old was destroyed.


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Lesser God of Death, Evil, and Shadow

The Lord at the End prepares a table. Every cut of meat, and every fruit of the earth is set at the long table in the main hall of his Shadow Palace.

As is his custom, Azdan speaks from his realm into the Amaranthine. "Brother, I have hosted a feast for you, that we might have accord. Come and see."

He stands by the table and waits for Melehan to arrive.


Nanook went to the Indar village, and located the Unnamed Guardian, now a full-grown woman. She had the sharp eyes of intense awareness and intellect, and Nanook followed her through the stars. As she was alone, he appeared, calling out with his mind into hers. She winced, staring at the great white beast before her.
"Do not be afraid; I am Nanook, a servant of the Winter. I am here to teach you. The time for you to gain your name is drawing close."
She didn't blink, but slowly reached for her dagger.
"You where chosen by the goddess to be her prophet among your people. You are gifted with a mind far beyond your kin. Follow me; I have something to show you.
She felt calmed and comforted by the growling voice in her head, though she didn't know why. She followed the great beast, hustling to keep up with the beasts giant steps.

They traveled for hours, until they reached a great forest. The Unnamed Guardian had never seen such a place before - so large trees, and so many. A giant wall of wood, stretching as far as she could see through the snowy mist. Nanook slowed down, and began to move more softly, sneaking in between the trees. The Guardian followed, stepping softly on the roots.

And there, between the trees, stood a magnificent creature. Larger even than the great white bear, with a mighty crown of horns, it was taller than any person could ever grow.
"The Winter favors your people greatly. But she also favors the great beasts of the wild. These are the moose, a young creation. These animals are also favored by the White Wolf. You may not hunt them, or imprison them, just like your people may not hunt or imprison the bears. And under no circumstance may your people lay a finger unto a white bear such as me. Several of your people have tried to hurt us, when we have approached you. You will tell the Indar to stop this, and they will listen." The great bear fell silent.
The Guardian nodded, not sure what to say, if to say anything. They watched the magnificent creature striding through the forest. After a while, Nanook spoke again.

"But I am not here to scold your people. I am here to teach you. Look into my eyes."
She looked into the shining eyes of the bear, glowing with stellar brilliance. And as she gazed into them, she saw a tune, a melody, playing in vivid color from Nanooks eyes into her own.
"Approach the moose, and while you do, hum. It will listen, and know you mean no harm."
She did as the bear told her, and as she approached the king of the forest, the king actually started moving toward her. As they met, she snuggled the great beast as she snuggled the calves in her home, feeling its warmth shine right through her.

"I will leave you here, favored of the Winter, so you can become familiar. Live with the moose, hunt with him, forage with him, and he will be your friend. Learn to ride him. In a month, you will be companions. I have much more to teach you, but the friendship of the wild is the most important lesson - the lesson your people seem unwilling to learn."

And with that, Nanook left the Guardian with her new-found friend-to-be.


Azdan, the Lord at the End wrote:

The Lord at the End prepares a table. Every cut of meat, and every fruit of the earth is set at the long table in the main hall of his Shadow Palace.

As is his custom, Azdan speaks from his realm into the Amaranthine. "Brother, I have hosted a feast for you, that we might have accord. Come and see."

He stands by the table and waits for Melehan to arrive.

Melehan approaches the table and takes the offered seat. He is still angry at Azdan, but he feels the laws of hospitality must be upheld, even if they are not common among mortals yet. He waits for Azdan to offer him some food.


Lesser God of Death, Evil, and Shadow

The Lord at the End smiles graciously. Ghostly hands, attached to no bodies, slide a plate along the long table. Meat, cheese, and fruits fill the plate, guided by translucent hands.

Azdan breaks the silence with a deeper voice, stronger than his customary whisper. "Why are you angry with me brother? You do not want our new world overrun with dark, magical creatures who massacre the living? Nor do I?" his smile turns to a grimace, a pondering look as if he were confused.

"Why do you fear that I will beset the world in death by undeath? I have made no such threat. I merely demanded a favor of one who violated my decree. She sought to cheat death for her followers. You understand she violates both my edict and yours. All I ask is the means to fight such measures in the future. Otherwise, there will be no death. ANd that, my brother, is impossible."

The Last to Die stands above his table, observing the stacked plate that slides before his friend. He walks to punctuate his rhythm. His pale, six-fingered hand slides along the smooth mahogany table.

"This wood comes from a death tree. The chair you sit in is covered in once-living flesh, stretched taut, padded, so comfortable and handsome. Your plate bears the flesh of a dead animal, the dying seeds of plants, the curdled milk of livestock, seasoned and mixed until it pleases the palate. All this," he gestures to the entire table, "comes from death."

Azdan studies the face of his brother. He knows his brothers assumptions have been challenged—his sense of trust betrayed. " I will apologize for the confusion if I must, Melehan. But I note your realm was not challenged. No god determines there is no afterlife for their faithful. Even Aeon waits for your decision as you process souls to his realm of light. What purpose does the decree of death serve if you simply say that your faithful do not answer to me? Suppose I decree that the world be bathed in eternal darkness. Suppose I debase mortal souls such that they stamp and rape one another? Will Jezebelle not act to restore their higher passions? If one of you acted to defend your one realm, I would not be angry. It is reasonable. After all, it is our world, not mine. Not yours."

Shadows flit around the room, as if cast by unseen candles. A ghostly hand pours Melehan a sweet-smelling wine, the ambrosia of dead grapes, into an obsidian goblet. Azdan continues.

"I believe you fear that evil will corrupt the world and we will hasten its destruction. The you want your tenure as god of the underworld to be a peaceful one, marked by deserved souls passing into Light, and damned souls passing into oblivion. How can I assuage those fears, brother? Can I promise to answer the prayers of the northeners such that their deaths are less savage? Can I swear to use my minions solely as agents to enforce my decree? Can I take away the notion of oblivion and create a Hell that souls might graduate from after a time? Are you concerned about your realm? The mortals souls? Oblivion?

Tell me, Brother. What would you have me do?"


"My authority has not been undermined, Azdan. You undermined your own authority. Your decree was that all must die, and you allowed Yihdra to subvert that. I do not deny the realities we represent. But one does not seek to resurrect the dead cow that provided their meat, or the seeds that came from their plant. It stands in direct defiance of the natural order of things you claim to be upholding. I am angry because rather than challenge Yidhra, you allowed her to continue while I was distracted. What do I want you to do? I do not know. All I know is that undeath exists in this world, and it's only a matter of time before mortal man, driven by fear of you and of me, will seek to use magic to become immortal. Such magic always comes with a price. A terrible price that may mean nothing to you, but means everything to me."


Lesser God of Death, Evil, and Shadow

Azdan furrows his brow in confusion. "My minions will precisely serve the purpose of destroying those who attempt to unlock immortality, or cheat death. No one will pass beyond mortal being without my knowledge, and those who do not enforce my edict will fail. But Yidhra acted by making her worshipers immortal first. She did violate both your and my demesne. All things must die, and all with souls must pass to your judgment. Those who do no die cannot pass."

"What do you think," he continues, "will happen once one god simply denies the reality all others must obey for her select faithful? Why would the others refrain? The precedent is now set. If you violate another god's primary decree, you owe a boon. They will be more careful. There will be no more immortals. And there will not be undeath unless I allow it. Any who defy me in this are subject to my servitors."

The Last One pulls his chair and sits again, shifting tones. "There may yet be another answer. You would have had me oppose Yidhra rather than demand payment. But what then? Another god acts similarly until your brother is unable to control his domain? None of us is strong enough to simple overpower another. And the act of countering her own results in a weaker god of death."

The roof overhead changes from stone to shadow. The cosmos comes into view, then the world. The world rotates and the north moves closer until both gods can see the people struggling through a harsh winter.

"I have struck an accord with Oenar, Goddess of Winter. She understands my intentions. I will make you the same promise I have made to her. The people there respect death. Death comes naturally—they do not war overmuch, they do not cheat. They fight the winter until they are claimed, where they die with courage and enter your halls with honor."

The scene in the roof changes to show mighty polar bears swatting down bandits. Azdan speaks again.

"Oenar exacts from me the promise that I will not allow undead except to prevent unnatural or untimely death. She promises that where her guardians find any sort of undead, they will smite them with prejudice. I concur. When mortals cheat death, I will send guardians to court them back under my cloak. When her or your warriors find these mortals, or my servants, I will not balk at their destruction. This gives you some measure of influence over the advent of undeath."

"I will also create living beings who will serve death. Surely Death has its priests in some cultures, but I have little interest in murderous cults or monsters. My minions will enforce death, and you will always have a place at the table of the one who controls death and undeath. Moreover, I will need strength to ward away those gods who seek to exempt their creations from my decree. ANd so I have a proposal for that as well."

Azdan stands again, looking up at the ceiling and watching the simple, noble people of the harsh northlands. "You are concerned, brother, that death will increasingly become evil. That unlife will be used by despots and warlocks to oppress the living. I have no interest in choosing sides against any god, least of all you and Madame Winter. Let there be tribes of worshipers who venerate death as you and she would see it. Rather than my defending my place with a black hand, let my aspect here," he gestures to the northlanders on the ceiling, "be one of natural law. If I should break the natural law there, you may accuse me. If someone else breaks that law, we will unite against them as the gods of our people. Their prayers will give us strength. Our compact will entitle you to destroy undeath wherever you find it. Our pantheon will reinforce the agreement with every story they tell, every song they sing, and every pyre they burn. Here, I will be Azdan. To some, I will be Lord at the End. But among Oenar's people, who die with virtue, I will be—only will ever be—Chajut, the Final Night. When I take them into my cloak, and they climb into your realm, they will strengthen our bond. They wil face me with certainty, and you without fear."

"Winter sees the value in defining my place without any mixture of evil. Do you, Brother?"


Melehan steeples his hands, his expression troubled as he nods.

"You bring words with meaning. That is indeed what I fear. That with the fear of death will inevitably come those small-minded mortals who refuse to see anything beyond their own life. That they will see death not as the transition it is, but rather as robbery, that their lives are taken from them by some cruel oppressor. You don't deserve scorn of that nature, brother. You are not evil. You are not good either, but that is where I come in. I am still weak from creating the Amaranthine, and have yet to sort the souls that have already arrived there. But there are others who have taken advantage of Yidhra's work."

He takes control of Azdan's view of the cosmos and shifts it further south, to the domain of the Jezites, and most specifically, the mountaintop cave sacred to both them and the Indar.

"Jezebelle now has granted some of her followers eternal life and beauty sustained through the consumption of human blood. The souls of those sacrificed to them, given to them as food in religious devotion, arrive screaming in my realm, their deaths horrific as they were savaged by a monster. I wish to comfort them, but have no desire to condone their deaths on Jezebelle's whims, claiming it is retribution for me ignoring her during our last council. I know not what to do."


Lesser God of Death, Evil, and Shadow

In the northlands, part of a world so young it has no name, and its people barely know war, remote tribes grow. The fight for survival is constant. Half the year, the sun never sets, the other half it never rises. The daily work for food, shelter, and fire consumes the cultures of each tribe. They hunt, work, sing, and multiply their numbers with frost on their breath. Even in the warm seasons, life is hard. Great beasts and fast floods threaten those who live below the forested peaks. Harsh winds and disastrous icefalls threaten those who live atop the world.

The terrifying struggle against the elements leads the northern tribes to become intensely spiritual people. They venerate the omnipotence of winter, observe the inevitability of death, and pray for rest in the life beyond. They look past the flaring colors in the night sky, at the stars beyond, and hope for a life in the heavens that rewards their courageous struggle.

Their prayers form priesthoods. They begin to exhibit a process called fasting, where they remove themselves from the lifesaving campfires of home and test their faith and their physical endurance against all that winter has to offer. They warm the souls of their dead by placing their bodies on great pyres—a practice that also begins to ward of the rising of any who are murdered. The priests look into the smoke wafting from the burning dead and divine their place in the afterlife, and any messages they may have as they depart for the stars. And they practice harsh justice against those who take lives beyond tribal law. The practice of capital punishment becomes know as the Chaju-hia ("Death has enough"), a method of protecting tribes from the predations of criminals by keeping death at bay.

Over time the tribes grow, intermingle, break apart, and war against southern outliers. Over centuries they may speak different dialects or give new names and rituals to their gods. They may even embrace a few lesser gods as stories become legend and legend becomes myth. But among the cultures of those northern tribes, the pantheon known as Iawut—Winter, Death, Afterlife—remains strong.


Female Greater Deity Domains: Chaos (Love, Hate), Charm (Beauty), Art (Wonders), Sin (Lust, Pride), Dreams (Dreamland), Magic (rituals), Civilization (culture), Murder (ritual sacrifice)

Jezebelle returned with Ellazariel at the temple of the Jezites.
She was exactly as Aeon described her, Beautiful and full of fiery passion, but unable to exert it for herself. Unable to find a way on her own.
Once returned the goddess of passions asked her if she wanted to be free, but whenever she tried to explain what was like to have free will she failed to grasp the concept in it's entirety.
Jezebelle embraced Ellazariel and bathed the angel in her divine essence.
Ellazariel looked at her as if she woke up from a dream.
"You are now free to be everything you want to be. Find a path for yourself, roam the world as much as you want, but know that if you desire there will always be a place by my side for you..." smiling warmly, Jezebelle touched the angel belly "...and for your children"
So Ellazariel walked among the humanity, spawning angels who had a will of their own and had no knowledge of the laws of Aeon.
And to both angels and men, those winged men walking the earth was known as the fallen.
Ellazariel returned to Jezebelle, but was no longer a servant of her, she was sometimes a daughter, sometimes a friend, sometimes a lover, but always an equal, she would never allow Jezebelle to look down on her.
Jezebelle never took her for granted as Ellazariel came and go without warning, following her own whims.

Jezebelle looked on her Jezites, on the 7 vampire queens and her fallen angels. All of them following their own desires to the fullest. Gods like Aeon would call them sinners, she simply call them free.
He invited Jezebelle to his pantheon, she will have to make sure to protect her ways before she commits to that.

actions:

Praise: Ellazariel (free will and miraculous conception) (1 pt.)
Gain Domain: Sin [portfolio: Lust, Pride] (3 pt.)


As Kargoth continued his travels across the great sea, Erande turned his gaze to other acts that occurred across the world. He reflected on his actions thus far, and decided that he wished to focus on making the lives of all the mortals of the world better. First, however, he would need to gain more divine abilities that would allow him to do so. He thought about his place among the others, and he realized that there were multiple gods of death, but none to champion the cause of life. He knew that that must change, as there must ever be balance to the cosmos.

He also knew that in order to take up this mantle, he would need to create more life. He decided to create more people to fill the world. On the continent he created, The people of the trees sprung up, fully formed from the idea that he had in his mind. These lithe, attractive people were each bound to a tree, and they would live as long as their trees did. He knew that this might offend the others, so he decided to grant each the gift of life:

To Aeon, he granted the Celestials, a group of beings who performed the support roles necessary for the angels to do their works: creating and forging weapons, maintaining the heavens, and providing mortal soldiers to support their wars. Though longer lived than the mortals of the planet below, these Celestials still lived, loved, and died like another other.

To Oenar, Erande gave the gift of the griffon: Intelligent beasts that appeared as eagles the size of bears. Though they looked fierce, these beings were the souls of peace who sought enlightenment, and travelled the world to gather knowledge to share.

To Azdan, Erande gave his word that when reality did indeed end again, that he would not fight it, although he did add that he could not speak for his creations, as they were their own beings.

To Yidhra, he gave the Changelings, a race of beings who could change their appearance as they wished. They would live for centuries as mortals measured time.

To Nihil, the empty, he gave nothing, which he felt that the Void would enjoy...

He would ponder his gift to Nico Bolos, Melehan, and Jezebelle, as he knew that he would have to wait and gain more power before giving his gift to them.

Actions:

Gain Ability: Herald of Life -5 AP
create sentient life: The celestials -1 AP
create sentient life: The Griffons -1 AP
Create Sentient Life: The Tree People -1 AP
Create Sentient Life: The Changelings -1 AP
AP Left: 2

Domains:
Artifice 3/7 (Create Artifact, Create Shipmaking, Create Cocoa), Life 6/7 (Create Indars, Forge Land, Gain Herald of Life, Create The Celestials, Create Griffons, Create The Tree People, Create Changelings), Nobility 1/7 (Raise Hero), Magic 1/7(Create The Song), Trickery 1/7 (Gain Many-Faced Trickster)


The Silent acknowledged Erande's act. Were emotions able to take hold, something like satisfaction that another partook in the conscious act of giving nothing would have arisen. However, acknowledgement was the closest thing It was capable of.

And so Nihil approached Erande after the act, appearing before him. Nihil had more a concept of being and spoke.

Erande.

The Empty acknowledged the god, approximating thanks and intent in that single word before continuing on.

The Silent requests. Your stories of the Old World? It would have them.


Fledgling Deity

Oenar nodded towards Erande.
I thank you, friend. These are wondrous creatures, and will be my eyes and ears in the world. And I have a gift in return, to be given to your people; I have noticed your king's ship. They may now understand the stars and constellations, the movements of my moon and how to orient themselves after these insights.

With that, she turned toward the Empty.
I have matters to see to. The tale-telling will be postponed, if it will be resumed at all; I will have to see at a later time. Now leave my domain, voidspawn.

After that, she sent a whispering winter's wind towards the other of the Iawut, calling on them.

To Azdan and Melehan:

We should meet sometime soon, to speak about the matters of this world. Feel free to come to my moon.

[spoiler=Actions]
Create Advanced Concept: Astronomy (including astronavigation)
Gain Domain: Night Sky

AP: 0+5-2-3=0.
Nanook AP: 0+1=1


Turning to Nihil, Erande says "Why do you want to know my stories of the old world? I don't mind sharing, but I am curious."


Gaining 4 AP (Weekly Bonus). 6 AP total.

Yidhra hummed happily, delighted by the appearance of changelings on the world below. Honestly, she was rather smitten with things that were more than what they seemed; being many things at once appealed to her alien mind, and she rather felt that she could relate to them a bit better. For now, though, she was happy to relax and observe the world; and why not? People expected the gods to do things, so a god who didn't do anything CoughNihilCough was all sorts of fun for her.


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Female Greater Deity Domains: Chaos (Love, Hate), Charm (Beauty), Art (Wonders), Sin (Lust, Pride), Dreams (Dreamland), Magic (rituals), Civilization (culture), Murder (ritual sacrifice)

Jezebelle was alone in her chambers of the temple. Contemplating the new world and the old ones. Friends, and lovers, and children, all consumed one after the other in the flames of the holy war between gods.
Gone were the verdant gods of the forests, beings of instinct and joy, a joy she often shared with them. Gone were the gods of wine and revelry, whose festivities never ended. Gone were the other gods of passion and beauty, those kindred spirits who shared her visions.
All that remained were stern faced gods of death, duty and judgement.
Gods of nothingness and paradoxes that she couldn't understand, and in a sense that she deeply feared.
She had hopes for the poet god, sure that would be attracted to her like a moth is attracted to a flame, but he really felt as cold and distant as the lands he placed his precious barbarians on.
She extended her hand to all the gods, few responded, and among the few the one who give her most sign of acceptance was one who she was sure, in the depth of his heart despised her, and all she represented.
All the gods around her seemed silent to one another, ore even worse, silent towards her, excluding her form their discussion, frowning upon her creations, plotting to get rid of her for good.
Brooding into her temple, crying over her own arms, the goddess of passion was slowly slipping towards the darkness. All around the temple, dark clouds was gathered, and rain was pouring down from them.
It was no storm, there was no violence there, only sadness. The most sensitive among the Jezites could feel it, and their everlasting revelries was no more.
They gathered the most beautiful fruits, their better statues and paintings and offered them all at the temple, but no matter how much they tried to indulge their goddess, her happiness seemed beyond their capabilities. Jezites priests preached about the calm but neverending rain, they called it the cry of Jezebelle. And songs were singed about the lonely goddess of love. Life proceeded as always, but for whoever had love and joy in his heart, those days was filled with melancholy, as the skies wept so did a part of their hearts.

If we don't recruit a god of wine and pranks and whores Jezebelle will start to cut herself like a emo girl listening to my chemical romance


Lesser God of Death, Evil, and Shadow

A shadow falls in the presence of the goddess of desire. Whispers precede the arrival of death, hopes and dreams that will not ripen, words on the lips of those who pass before they can be spoken.

"Woman of Want," the Last to Die addresses Jezebelle in a throaty voice, as if confessing a secret. "I bear a gift, and seek audience with you. Will you join me?"


Female Greater Deity Domains: Chaos (Love, Hate), Charm (Beauty), Art (Wonders), Sin (Lust, Pride), Dreams (Dreamland), Magic (rituals), Civilization (culture), Murder (ritual sacrifice)

The mistress of passions rises up to face the lord at the end. Black trails descend from her eyes but despite the clear signs of Jezebelle melancholy, her face exudes the determination of a goddess.
"At last, at the time of mourning, death himself comes to offer me gifts and company."
Jezebelle smiled bitterly at the irony.
"I'll be honored to have you as my guest, or to be yours, as you would see fit." said at last with a way more sincere and convincing smile.


Lesser God of Death, Evil, and Shadow

The shadows darken, and Azdan lifts his cloak as if to shelter Jezebelle from the rain. When his arm falls, they are in the world. A small cabin, dark but for scant candlelight. A woman labors atop a wooden table, biting down on a wooden stick in obvious pain. Her feet are spread wide, with a midwife and another young girl working between her thighs.

Azdan whispers to the goddess in his company. "There are many places you and I might go to see the union of our concerns, Desirable One. Choose, and sit with me a while."

The room fades, a misty field stretching out before them. A lovely young girl sobs, calling out the names of two men as they cross swords and prepare to duel.

The sun sets quickly, the three disappear. They are in a quiet room, full of soft moonlight and sadness. An old man sits by the side of a small bed, holding the frail hand of a venerable woman. Her breath rasps as she draws it in slowly. There are tears in the old man's eyes, but he dares not look away. He watches her sleep with quiet resignation.

The world is below them now. In the way that gods see, the whole world is below, with moonlight at their back, yet prominent in their field of view are the three scenes they have visited.

The Lord at the End speaks again, his voice a combination of lust and sadness, like a guilty lover.

"Which captures your heart this night, Jezebelle? Take any of them as my gift to you."


Female Greater Deity Domains: Chaos (Love, Hate), Charm (Beauty), Art (Wonders), Sin (Lust, Pride), Dreams (Dreamland), Magic (rituals), Civilization (culture), Murder (ritual sacrifice)

"I'd rather see the last of them..."
said Jezebelle as the vision of the old man, holding the dying woman hand.
The goddess closed her eyes, as if she was listening to a silent symphony.
"Can you feel it? there are part of him that are weeping, mourning. full of regrets for all the things he wanted to share with her, knowing he will never have that chance...
But there is another part... deeper... that is just grateful of what he could share with her. A part that will carry on her memories.
A part of her that touched him, touched others, leaved a legacy behind.
That... is what will never die.
They may be killed, their flesh may waste away, their souls may be torn asunder... but what they leave behind will survive them.. survive their lives, their countries, their worlds.
I, for one, will carry them forever with me..."


Melehan returns to the Amaranthine, and knows that there is much work to be done. He focuses his thoughts, and slowly, steadily, the ground begins to rise beneath him, lifting him up. The purple stone of the Amaranthine darkens to an inky, almost black, hue, while veins of glittering metal marble through it, like silver. The growing mountain shifts and twists as it becomes less like a mountain and more like a building. Crystalline growths, reminiscent of Oenar's icy creations, begin to emerge, glowing with an inner light as Melehan's palace is completed.

He roams its grounds, the place slowly taking on furnishings and decoration pleasing to his eyes until finally he reaches the greatest chamber in the building. There, the stone of the sanctum has taken the shape of a massive throne, elegant and foreboding, intricate yet solid.

Melehan takes his seat, and the souls of the dead begin to file in, guided by some instinct they didn't know they'd had until now. And Melehan judged them.

Weave Sanctum (-3 AP): The Last Tribunal, Melehan's judgment seat and place of residence. Here he will judge the souls of the dead, house his future servants and entertain his fellow divinities.


Lesser God of Death, Evil, and Shadow

Azdan's whisper takes on a measure of discomfort, but Jezebelle knows it is an affectation—an attempt to communicate in an emotional context the Last Candle does not quite understand. A chill radiates from him as the two gods savor the emotions of the man.

"He's praying to me, even now," say Death. "He wants me to give her one more day, but I cannot. If she lives, then the pleasure you gain from this moment is spoiled. And in any event, I give no one an extra day. Not even you or Melehan."

He is silent for a moment, letting Jezebelle bask in the unrestrained emotion displayed by the grieving husband. "Death has few friends, Secret Lover. Though I must do my work, it means I must take from every soul, every family, even every god. It is my hope that you and I can sometimes share moments like this. I promise to bring you to the sweetest of them. But understand, they must all end this way."

A brief seizure wracks the sleeping woman's body. With a single cough and a final grip of her husband's weathered hand, she passes. A soft gurgle sounds in her throat and she is still.

She sits up, eyes wide with fear as her soul separates from her body. Tears fill her eyes as she looks into the vast darkness of Azdan's shadow. He wraps his cloak around her and she immediately shakes with chill.

Azdan looks at Jezebelle, his arm still around his shivering charge. "I have enjoyed our time together, Jezebelle. I hope we can sit together again soon. Have you anything to ask of me?"


Female Greater Deity Domains: Chaos (Love, Hate), Charm (Beauty), Art (Wonders), Sin (Lust, Pride), Dreams (Dreamland), Magic (rituals), Civilization (culture), Murder (ritual sacrifice)

"I do not fear the end" said the eternal feminine "for everything that comes to an end had a start. No matter how short and small, all existance has meaning.
Jezebelle looked at Azdan as he took the woman soul. She smiled a little and nodded when Azdan told her he appreciated their time together,like a silent "me too". finally she responded.
"I do indeed have one request." said with almost a hint of shyness
"whenever my times comes, would you cry for me?"


Female Greater Deity Domains: Chaos (Love, Hate), Charm (Beauty), Art (Wonders), Sin (Lust, Pride), Dreams (Dreamland), Magic (rituals), Civilization (culture), Murder (ritual sacrifice)
Melehan, The Final Arbiter wrote:

Melehan regards Jezebelle cautiously.

"Show me..."

great ... I noticed this only now. Sorry for the delay.

Jezebelle offer her hand to Melehan and guides him to a big silver mirror.
The goddess of beauty kisses her image and the reflection stat to blur and shift into something else. a young Jezite in his twenties appeared in the mirror, he was carving the image of another man in the wood. On the side there was thin layers of gold, to make the statue precious once is finished.
"This is Meztli. The man he is carving on wood is Tlacelel, his father.
When Meztli had an incident, Tlacelel offered himself as a blood sacrifice, to fuel a ritual that could save his son."

The image disappeared from the mirror, another one appeared, the cave atop the mountain. One of the 7 vampires was pale beyond the others, and weak. she lied in a bed barely conscious. On her lap there is a boy, unconscious, motionless, but apparently serene.
"She's Zaniyah, the pale. Many men sacrificed themselves to participate in her promised glory, to create the 7 queens. Some others were forced to it. One did it for love. The one who sits in his lap.
She knew about his love when it was too late. She managed to save him... but not to wake him up, not yet. Every drop of blood that is given to her, she consumes to keep him alive and maybe one day to awaken him. She doesn't even know if she loves him. She just know she cannot stop thinking about the love he gave to her."

The mirror shifts away once more This time on another vampire, she sits on her throne, while a group of Jezites sings for her. All the Jezites have teethmarks on their neck.
"This is Tlalli the meek. She learned she can consume blood without consuming a life. It's a constant struggle to her, to keep feeding on them and keep them alive at the same time. But she came to realize that she values their lives more than she value her satisfaction."
The mirror shifted again and returned to show the reflection of Jezebelle and Melehan.
"Of course I could show you more... Jezites killing each other over trivial matters. Izel the cruel, that requires a fresh blood sacrifice every day just to prove the faithfulness of her priests.
But that's what people do.
You should know well... give humans a beautiful tree, and the first thing they do is to carve a club out of it to kill their own brothers.
But they still have potential for great selfless deeds. Even those fueled by blood. I placed them higher in the food chain. As lions and wolves, they need to eat. But I never stripped them of love and compassion.
I gave them tools... and I won't force them to act for good, nor I will stop them from being evil. For what would be it's value if they are forced into it? It would diminish the greatness of it, when they choose to use their gifts for good on their own free will."


Yidhra continued to watch the world, curious and disinterested as events continued to occur. As they did, however, her alien mind focused on the countless possibilities and things she could do. Would it not be entertaining to say something about how the world ought to be? With just a few words, she could command it... and if it did not interfere with anyone else's claims, they would have no basis for complaints, right? "Maybe everyone should try to have fun..." she mused thoughtfully. But what was fun, exactly, and how did they have it?


Jezebelle, our lady of passion wrote:
Melehan, The Final Arbiter wrote:

Melehan regards Jezebelle cautiously.

"Show me..."

great ... I noticed this only now. Sorry for the delay.

Jezebelle offer her hand to Melehan and guides him to a big silver mirror.
The goddess of beauty kisses her image and the reflection stat to blur and shift into something else. a young Jezite in his twenties appeared in the mirror, he was carving the image of another man in the wood. On the side there was thin layers of gold, to make the statue precious once is finished.
"This is Meztli. The man he is carving on wood is Tlacelel, his father.
When Meztli had an incident, Tlacelel offered himself as a blood sacrifice, to fuel a ritual that could save his son."

The image disappeared from the mirror, another one appeared, the cave atop the mountain. One of the 7 vampires was pale beyond the others, and weak. she lied in a bed barely conscious. On her lap there is a boy, unconscious, motionless, but apparently serene.
"She's Zaniyah, the pale. Many men sacrificed themselves to participate in her promised glory, to create the 7 queens. Some others were forced to it. One did it for love. The one who sits in his lap.
She knew about his love when it was too late. She managed to save him... but not to wake him up, not yet. Every drop of blood that is given to her, she consumes to keep him alive and maybe one day to awaken him. She doesn't even know if she loves him. She just know she cannot stop thinking about the love he gave to her."

The mirror shifts away once more This time on another vampire, she sits on her throne, while a group of Jezites sings for her. All the Jezites have teethmarks on their neck.
"This is Tlalli the meek. She learned she can consume blood without consuming a life. It's a constant struggle to her, to keep feeding on them and keep them alive at the same time. But she came to realize that she values their lives more than she value her satisfaction."
The mirror shifted again and returned to...

"Force? Force has little to do with it. If anything has been forced, you have forced these people to exist outside the order of things Azdan declared. And for what? Attention? Help me to understand why I should not be upset by these events. To understand how I should judge the souls that these 7 have sent to my realm, howling in pain and fear."


Female Greater Deity Domains: Chaos (Love, Hate), Charm (Beauty), Art (Wonders), Sin (Lust, Pride), Dreams (Dreamland), Magic (rituals), Civilization (culture), Murder (ritual sacrifice)

"exist outside the order of things Azdan declared?" asked Jezebelle visibly upset. "I couldn't put myself outside of that, not even if I wanted. Those vampires will die and rot eventually, like anyone else. The only thing they won't suffer is the ravage of time. You ask me about the pain and fear that comes with death... but who made it painful and scary?
I do believe I accept the order Azdan declared better than you. Maybe it's you who can't accept it, and feel the need to blame me for it.
Besides... when has been decreed that men are above the creatures of this world? that they can eat and kill every other creature but they cannot be killed and eaten in return?
And what about the order of things that I declare? would you dare to tell me it has not the same value as yours or your brother's?"

Jezebelle took a deep breath and calmed down a little.
"But I am nothing but a conscientious and reasonable goddess. Point out one good reason why they shouldn't be and I will unmake them with my own hands. Just be warned... don't you try to belittle my divine authority. There is only so much insult I am willing to tolerate"


Jezebelle, our lady of passion wrote:

"exist outside the order of things Azdan declared?" asked Jezebelle visibly upset. "I couldn't put myself outside of that, not even if I wanted. Those vampires will die and rot eventually, like anyone else. The only thing they won't suffer is the ravage of time. You ask me about the pain and fear that comes with death... but who made it painful and scary?

I do believe I accept the order Azdan declared better than you. Maybe it's you who can't accept it, and feel the need to blame me for it.
Besides... when has been decreed that men are above the creatures of this world? that they can eat and kill every other creature but they cannot be killed and eaten in return?
And what about the order of things that I declare? would you dare to tell me it has not the same value as yours or your brother's?"

Jezebelle took a deep breath and calmed down a little.
"But I am nothing but a conscientious and reasonable goddess. Point out one good reason why they shouldn't be and I will unmake them with my own hands. Just be warned... don't you try to belittle my divine authority. There is only so much insult I am willing to tolerate"

"Animals don't have souls the same way men do, Jezebelle. You raise a valuable point though, that they will die when the time comes. I was unaware of that caveat. I apologize for my assumptions. Undeath is a sore subject with me. My sphere of influence in the old world dealt exclusively with their destruction and the protection of the living. Perhaps we may come to an accord regarding these women? The ones who curtail their hunger, who survive in moderation, these are admirable people who bear a heavy burden. But the ones who feast on their lessers, who savage and kill, I feel something should be done about them. What would you propose?"

Melehan manages a weak smile. Jezebelle was actually starting to frighten him.


Aeon looked down from Heaven, watched the lives of the people. Watched as outside ideas influenced them, they learned war, art, sin, pride, lust, greed, but also hope, kindness, the things he wanted for them, love, peace. The world was becoming more diverse, he needed a stronger representation there.

Flying up into the high heavens, to the light of all, Aeon focused and pulled forth a sword with a blade that looked like alabaster with a golden hilt set with sapphires.

Aeon returned to the clouds and with all of his might hurled the blade from heaven, with a blast of power and a vortex of clouds swirled down as the blade tore through to the mortal world.

Near the outskirts of the largest city on the western continent, where his people dwelt, a fallen tree lay on some stones in a field. These began to twist, to take on life and form until they resembled a man, with a stony and gnarled complexion and eyes that were life. The undying one, an aspect of life and the heavens looked to the sky, and saw the flash of light, heard the screaming of the air as the blade fell, and caught it as the force dissipated and an eruption of flowers and trees, birds and bugs, exploded from He at the epicenter. The Undying one, wrapped himself in a white robe, and hid the sword, wrapping it in cloth. The stranger walked into the city.

Within the city, called Lighthall, there lived a woman, called Leona Innarion, she was beautiful and just. More importantly though, she was kind and caring, Aeon often watched her with awe at the goodness that mortals were capable of. Leona disliked conflict and hated evil.

The undying appeared before her, and to his shock, she recognized his divine nature. She fell to her feet, afraid. The Undying spoke "Fear not Leona, for the Lord is with you." the girl rose to her feet. She kept her eyes averted and the stranger comforted her after she said "I am unworthy."

"Turn not away, for you are blessed of Aeon and bathed in light and mercy. His grace is upon you. Call not unworthy what the light of the world has made worthy. You have been called, to be an instrument in this world for good and justice, to root out evil and destroy it where it hides. You are the first Paladin, the Grandmaster. More from the people shall join you and you shall mediate amongst the people for the good of all. You shall be the gaurdians of the good people of the world, hunt the monsters of the dark and uphold the right living of Aeon."

Still unsure of herself, Leona asked "I am the most honored, but how will I do this?"

"With this." the Undying one said, pulling the blade from the cloth. "The Sword of Hosts, with it, the might of Heaven is at your call. I have faith in you." the kind stranger said, and was gone. Leona sat staring, her home seeming to grow darker now that he was gone. The sword of alabaster shone in her hand, an hour later, a knock at her door. They were coming.

Create Artifact: Sword of Hosts -3Ap
Raise Hero: Grandmaster Leona -2Ap
Form Order: Paldins -2Ap
Divine Mandate: Paladins have Aeon's backing -5Ap
AP remaining: 0


Female Greater Deity Domains: Chaos (Love, Hate), Charm (Beauty), Art (Wonders), Sin (Lust, Pride), Dreams (Dreamland), Magic (rituals), Civilization (culture), Murder (ritual sacrifice)
Melehan, The Final Arbiter wrote:
"Animals don't have souls the same way men do, Jezebelle. You raise a valuable point though, that they will die when the time comes. I was unaware of that caveat. I apologize for my assumptions. Undeath is a sore subject with me. My sphere of influence in the old world dealt exclusively with their destruction and the protection of the living. Perhaps we may come to an accord regarding these women? The ones who curtail their hunger, who survive in moderation, these are admirable people who bear a heavy burden. But the ones who feast on their lessers, who savage and kill, I feel something should be done about them. What would you propose?"

Jezebelle smiled back at Melehan.

"I propose we give animals a soul.
But you were probably talking about my vampires."

Jezebelle lied in one of her piles of pillows on the floor, crossing her long smooth legs.
"You should know by now, I do place a great value on free will. I have seen the fate of monsters time and time again. I trust that the cruelest of them all will meet their end by the hands of the same men they prey upon. They are strong, but not as strong as an entire mob of angry men.
Jezebelle looked seductively at Melehan. With her index finger, she invited the final arbiter to come closer to her.
"Nonetheless, if you feel the need to destroy the most unruly ones among them, I will allow you to destroy them, or to set things so that they meet their end before their time. I won't seek revenge for them. As I said, I am nothing but a conscientious and reasonable goddess.
I don't want to be your enemy, I would rather have you as a dear friend of mine."

Jezebelle giggled a little as, unnoticed by Melehan,the black haired shard of the goddess of passion appeared on his back. Embraced him and whispered on his ear.
"You have my blessing on this matter. But remember the fate of monsters. you will destroy a vampire because they kill men. Will you be that different as you kill them?"


Gaining 4 AP. Total: 10.

Yidhra continued to study the world, focusing her attention on the strange creatures below. If I deal with the cold, then Winter will complain. If I deal with passion and emotions, then the lady person will complain. If I deal with life and death, then the death gods will complain. Sigh. They were all so serious about everything, and here she was just hoping to have friends. "Hmm... make everybody play games? Or maybe reward effort?" she mused, entirely unconcerned with the fact that she was talking about a major change in the fabric of the universe itself.


Jezebelle, our lady of passion wrote:
Melehan, The Final Arbiter wrote:
"Animals don't have souls the same way men do, Jezebelle. You raise a valuable point though, that they will die when the time comes. I was unaware of that caveat. I apologize for my assumptions. Undeath is a sore subject with me. My sphere of influence in the old world dealt exclusively with their destruction and the protection of the living. Perhaps we may come to an accord regarding these women? The ones who curtail their hunger, who survive in moderation, these are admirable people who bear a heavy burden. But the ones who feast on their lessers, who savage and kill, I feel something should be done about them. What would you propose?"

Jezebelle smiled back at Melehan.

"I propose we give animals a soul.
But you were probably talking about my vampires."

Jezebelle lied in one of her piles of pillows on the floor, crossing her long smooth legs.
"You should know by now, I do place a great value on free will. I have seen the fate of monsters time and time again. I trust that the cruelest of them all will meet their end by the hands of the same men they prey upon. They are strong, but not as strong as an entire mob of angry men.
Jezebelle looked seductively at Melehan. With her index finger, she invited the final arbiter to come closer to her.
"Nonetheless, if you feel the need to destroy the most unruly ones among them, I will allow you to destroy them, or to set things so that they meet their end before their time. I won't seek revenge for them. As I said, I am nothing but a conscientious and reasonable goddess.
I don't want to be your enemy, I would rather have you as a dear friend of mine."

Jezebelle giggled a little as, unnoticed by Melehan,the black haired shard of the goddess of passion appeared on his back. Embraced him and whispered on his ear.
"You have my blessing on this matter. But remember the fate of monsters. you will destroy a vampire because they kill men. Will you be that different as you kill them?"

Melehan blushes and gulps, but tries to maintain his composure.

"Perhaps I and my followers won't be so different. But that is something we will have to live with and accept in our own way."


Female Greater Deity Domains: Chaos (Love, Hate), Charm (Beauty), Art (Wonders), Sin (Lust, Pride), Dreams (Dreamland), Magic (rituals), Civilization (culture), Murder (ritual sacrifice)

The dark haired Jezebelle giggles mischievously and whispers to the ear of Melehan. The touch of her breath feels like a caress on the skin of the god of death.
"Do I make you nervous?"
Meanwhile the red haired one, the main essence of the eternal feminine, rose from her bed of pillows, approached Melehan and put her arms around his neck, looking at him with her deep green eyes.
"I like you Melehan. And I can tell you like me as well, even though you feel you cannot trust me. I am sure we are going towards a deeper understandings between us. That is why I have an offer for you.
You and your brother share dominion over death and you are worshiped in the north along with the winter wolf. Erande is tied to the north and his barbarians, is just a matter of time before he joins you all..
I could persuade him to do otherwise, but he would have so much to lose.
I don't hate them ... as a matter of fact, I'm kinda fond of your brother, I admire Erande, and I love the beauty of Oenar's work.
But outside from the barren north... that's were there is more need of you.
Aeon prepared a seat for gods outside the eternal ice.
I have his permission to join him. And it will be him... a stern god of justice and duty, and me, a goddess of art and pleasure.
There is no god of death. And while I accept death as an inescapable consequence of life, I would rather see you administer it on my people.
And I would see you settle the disputes that would arise between me and Aeon, and I know... we will have plenty.
We are not the same you and I, you are a god of consequences, you are more akin to Aeon than me. But I know you will be able to see my reasons.
That's why I ask you...
Would you follow me? would you separate from the north?
You would have to talk with Oenar and Azdan about this. I don't want them to see this as a offense to them.
But I am sure you too can see the unbalance on having an overwhelming presence of death in the north, and no presence at all in the south."

The black Haired Jezebelle on his back whispered on his ear once more
"I promise you won't regret this..."


Lesser God of Death, Evil, and Shadow

The Moonless Night enters the world, looking for those who would fall into his cloak. He feels a stirring in the earth, as though butterflies fluttered in its nervous gizzard. He remembered that mortals had once gone under the ground to flee life above. War or winter, it mattered not. They live Below the earth , just as Azdan lives below the cosmos. He feels a kinship with them.

Moving into the bones of the world, he makes room for his own presence. Great vaults open. Earthquakes force a shudder on the world above, and earth and magma fill some of the inhabited spaces below. Thousands die.

Humans and other mortal races flow into the spaces Azdan creates. They see in the total darkness. Their tribes war against one another for food and water, and to control the great vaults of open space. Great seas of mineral-rich water grow cold deep below the surface. Hot springs bubble from even deeper places. Tribes gather, chiseling homes out of stone and using their growing understanding of magic to shape the World Below.

In the dark, ignored by the other gods, they embrace death as a way of life. The worlds itself tries to kill them every day. They form ruling houses and murder one another for ascension's sake. Their aggression becomes more than survival. Their cults of death revel in their hunts, their battles, their sacrifices to appease the Black Blade, as they begin to call him.

They live in darkness, and their souls reflect the lack of light in their lives. In time, their worship sends many souls to the Black Blade, and they invent new ways to fight and kill. Azdan watches in his new aspect, setting aside a portion of himself to watch the World Below and all that transpires there.

Spending 2 points to create the Unlit—sentient tribes of various (and variant) extant races. They don't specifically have to be drow or duergar, but they are underground versions of the surface world. They fight and mate and scheme and hate each other. Also making room for them by creating terrain underground for 1 point. Finally, spending 6 points on the evil and darkness domains.


Female Fledgeling Deity Domains: Open Water(Oceans, Seas), Weather( Wind, Lightening, Clouds, Rain), Monsters (Sea, Sky)

It's quite
A female form stirs in the depths of the ocean. She tries to grasp what has happened to the beautiful songs that once fill her mind. All she know is that it is quiet and that she is alone. She can't remember the last time she was alone, no matter where she was the sounds from the clouds and the sounds from the waves spoke to her, told her tales of everyday things, and on occasion, extraordinary legends. Now there was nothing. The only sound from the waves was them lapping at shores and the only sound from the sky was the soft roll of thunder and the light pattering of rain upon the ocean's surface.

What happened, where are they?

Then she remembered, she remembered their songs turning to screams. Screams that she could not silence, but eventually ended as the world crumbled around them and they with it. She remembered the agony from the world being torn apart from everything returning to nothing, and she cried. She grieved for the lives lost and for the world that was lost as well, all of that potential of of that life, gone. Slowly she rises to the surface, passing some sea serpents she knew not to be her own, she did not stop.

At the surface she let the rain run down her face, not bothering to stop the gentle storm. She took a shell in one hand and sliced open the other allowing her blood to flow down into the sea and mix with the water.

I will not tolerate this silence, I will make the ocean sing again!
With my blood I give you life, and with your life you will serve as protectors of the ocean and all of her travelers, rise Leviathan!

And with that the water that had mixed with the blood boiled and spew forth terrible sea monsters with quartets of tentacles and teeth sharper than any sword know to man. She looked at the first one and motioned for him to come to her.

With this I make you my champion and leader of your people, please take my blessing and the name, Asildon.

actions:

-4 AP create Mythical life ( Levithan )
-5 AP Raise Demigod (Asildon)


Yidhra sighed a bit as the entire world continued to be a bit... well... on the dim side. Perhaps it was time for something a little shinier? And with that, she gripped the fabric of space itself and began to mold it to her will. The first sign that anything was unusual in the heavens was when the deepest core first appeared. It was truly massive, though the people on the world below would only be able to see the outside, not the treasures within. Her creation rapidly expanded, forming what would be its thickest layer, with enough room for all the mining one could want. One more layer was briefly visible - an empty space that would someday be home to a great city, and the final layer was covered by a shell... from which countless flowers suddenly bloomed. Their collective energy radiated outward, shining with blinding brilliance to anyone who was too far above its ground.

What Yidhra had made utterly dwarfed the world... but that was the way it should have been. After all, her creation was to be the world's sun, and another domain in its own right. Yidhra considered for a moment, then poked a hole all the way down to the core.

And now the little races of the world's depths had something to shy away from! Yaaaaaaay!

Weave Plane: Tarsel. This plane has a limited physical area, since to the rest of the Material Plane, it acts mainly as a star (and a sun to the worlds of this system!). However, through powers like teleportation magic, it's possible to reach the surface of Tarsel and move directly to it from the Material Plane. From the outside, one can only teleport to the top layer, which is known as the Garden of the Sun. The Imperial City (yet to be built) is beneath it, followed by the Endless Mines... and at the core of Tarsel is an enormous chamber that appears to have been designed for a dragon. A huge shaft allows movement between the various layers. -5 AP / 5 remaining. 5/7 Sun (Light) domain.


Male Fledgling Deity

A series of messages is sent to each god Nes has awareness of. Each takes a different form as described below. All written in an extravagantly flowing script, and sealed or marked with Nes’ holy symbol from the old world; a lopsided crown above a too-wide smile. Each further contains a postscript with directions to his sanctum.

To Aeon, a tapestry woven from the living branches of trees set in planting pots:

Light of the World,
I send my sorrows for your losses, but my accolades on a fine new beginning. I wish to introduce or re-introduce myself to my fellow gods. We are sides of a coin, for you are life, and I am purpose. Life is hardly worth living without reason. I am hosting a gathering of the gods. All are welcome, but you in particular. I wish to offer a challenge, but fear that you have an unfortunate advantage over the other gods.
Sincerely,
Nes, Lord of Civilization

To Azdan, carved upon thin polished planks of human bone held together with leather from the same source:

Lord Azdan,
Yes, I have survived. You have my deepest apologies. I assure you that I have every intention of making amends for the insult. I believe, for starters, that you may delight in a proposition I wish to put forth. You are cordially invited to attend a little party I am putting together to celebrate my reemergence, and announce the first of many games I have planned.
Sincerely,
Lord Nes

To Erande, whittled around a mammoth bone carved into a horn:

Erande,
A god once watched the ending of the world from a safe haven. He continued watching still as others remade creation. When the time came, he announced his presence to his kin. This trickster-king challenged each to a game worthy of the gods. The ending remains unwritten. Would you care to live my story?
Sincerely,
Nes, the Kingmaker

To Jezebelle, tattooed upon the flesh of an extraordinarily handsome human man:

Dearest Jezebelle,
How lucky this new creation is to contain at least one true spark of beauty and talent. I have watched as you’ve stirred that spark into a fire, but I would see it burn in all the dark places of the world. How sad and bored you must be, with no one who truly understands. Allow me the honor of alleviating the monotony. I offer you a party, and a game. Interested?
Love,
Nes

To Nico Bolas, a thin sheaf of gold, the writing in silver:

Nico Bolas,
We have much in common, you and I. I expect us to become fast friends. I am hosting a little get-together and I hope you can make it. I have a challenge for you, and trust that you are not the sort to refuse a challenge? I promise great rewards await the victor.
Sincerely,
Nes, Father of Fey

To Nihil, nothing, specifically:

Nothing

To Oenar, written in tiny threaded rough-cut gemstones interwoven with clear white quartz:

Milady Winter,
We were not friends in the old world, but I propose that we come to know each other better. I am making a challenge to all the gods to prove their strength and cunning. A great and worthy offering goes to the victor. All are welcome to gather at my keep.
Sincerely,
Nes, Lord of Civilization

To Melehan, written upon the armor of a warrior's soul come to be judged:

Melehan,
You old stick in the mud! I’m glad to see that you made it. I bet if anyone needs a party, it’s you. I think that the souls of the dead can see to themselves for the span of an evening? Everyone needs a break… you don’t want to work yourself to death. Apologies! I couldn’t resist. You may not have the time or patience for my games, but you are cordially invited to hear me out.
Sincerely,
Nes

To Yidhra, written upon the wings of a thousand dying butterflies held together by spider’s silk:

Goddess,
I know we are unacquainted, but I have admired your work from afar. You possess the most cherished spark of mad creativity that I could never quite distill into my lost children. I wish to play a game for great stakes, but I imagine that it is the whimsical nature of the challenge that may appeal to you most. I cordially invite you to my sanctum for a small party to discuss the specifics.
Sincerely,
Nes, Father of Fey

To Yir, a plank of carved driftwood left over from a shipwreck:

Lady of the Sea,
I hope you are willing to look past our many differences and allow me to entertain you for at least one evening. You are a force of nature, but we both delight in the art of creation. I have a competition to pose to my fellow gods and goddesses. I think you may bring certain flair to the festivities that might be otherwise lacking. I do so hope you can attend. Please kindly do not damage my home… too much. I am rather fond of it.
Sincerely,
Nes, Father of Civilization

Actions:

Gain Ability (5 AP): One with Shadows - You are a being of deceit, a God who's lot is to lie and deceive. Your actions are hidden from those who they don't affect. No God can automatically know about any AP you spend unless that AP affects them or their creations directly even then they won't know it was you who affected their creations, just that a god did.
Weave Sanctum (3 AP): Nes’ sanctum takes the form of a city built upon the ruins of a city, built upon even deeper ruins still, until it has the appearance of a mountain crafted by men. For the moment, the many resplendent halls are empty except for the greatest within the castle at the apex. A banquet has been set by unseen servants. Music plays with no apparent source.
7 AP Remaining


"I...I will have to consider your words carefully, Jezebelle. This is not something small you're asking, after all. The people of the North are my charge, they need me. And I do not wish to seem fickle to my own kin by abandoning a pantheon as soon as it was born. I'll have an answer for you in time, I assure you."

He returns to the Amaranthine and finally begins working his will upon the featureless plane of purple stone outside. The souls of the dead found that outside the Last Tribunal there was a massive mountain, and a vast pit. Melehan observed the souls of the dead, to see their hearts. Those whose wickedness had led them to harm others or interfere with the natural order were cast into the pit, where the torments they inflicted upon others were inflicted back upon them. Those whose virtue pleased him were given a place on the mountain, where they wanted for nothing and were granted what their hearts desired. Any whose soul was neither wicked nor pure was released out into the lands between, free to do as they wished, but with very little to do as of yet.

"I have placed your souls where they deserve to be, but souls can change. If you desire more than what you have been granted, you may attempt to climb free. You will be tested, both in your endurance and your will. If you can muster both, then you may change your fate. A wicked soul may rise from the pit, an indifferent soul may ascend the mountain and achieve paradise. Should you desire more than paradise, you may climb to the top of the mountain. I know not what you will find there, but you will never be able to return. Any who swear loyalty to me, however, may dwell in my house as my faithful, and I will reward you as a king rewards his champions. So let it be."

As he judges the dead, a warrior comes forward bearing the message of the Fey King. Melehan is intrigued, but he realizes his wandering has left the Amaranthine neglected, and decides that first he must place a judge to hold court in his absence.

Actions:
Melehan creates The Peak of Paradise and the Pit of Perdition. -5 AP, I think? Correct me if I'm wrong.


Female Fledgeling Deity Domains: Open Water(Oceans, Seas), Weather( Wind, Lightening, Clouds, Rain), Monsters (Sea, Sky)

Yir reads over the plank of drift wood,and a half smile works its way on to her face.

Well I guess more survived than I originally thought, not sure if that is a good thing yet or not.

She sighed and relaxed back on to the water's surface, letting it lap at her as the newly existing Leviathans frolicked, testing out their abilities.

I should probably reply to him, it would be the polite thing to do. Even if I don't trust a single word that falls out of his mouth.

On a piece of kelp floating by she wrote her response before handing it to a passing albatross to deliver.

To Nes, Father of Civilization:
Short answer, longer to follow
NO
The Maelstrom

With a grin she moves to the shore of a near by continent, and collects the sea-foam from the sand. She carefully writes out a response, then lets the wind carry it to its destination.

To Nes, Father of Civilization:
While I would be more than happy to accept your invitation, I unfortunately must decline, I fear that any competition that I might become part of would render me unable to assure the state of your residence. If, however, you intended to have me as a guest and only a guest I will likely reconsider.

Yir, Lady of the Sea


Yidhra looked at the message she'd been given - then turned it around a few times, gazing at all of the markings she'd been sent. She knew madness when she saw it, and this was clearly the work of an organized mind... she just had absolutely no idea what it said, mainly because nobody had ever taught her how to read. She shrugged a moment later, then turned her attention back to her small group of mortal minions.


Male Fledgling Deity

The sanctum of Nes is a tiered series of building built upon building, rising up into the sky like it was all some great labyrinthine whole. The long winding streets, many markets, vast temples, and homes both large and small lay abandoned. It is a metropolis thick with weighty silence; a ghost town writ large. It helps make the music echoing out from the highest tower a siren’s song.

The dining chamber of the Kingmaker would shame the palaces of the greatest mortal emperors. The walls are covered in ornate tapestries, each telling of the rise and fall of a lost civilization. The tables and chairs are all different thrones fit for the most ostentatious of kings… seats of silver, fossilized wood, stone, skulls, or stranger. The table is round and formed from tens of thousands of melted gold pieces, each a different currency. Food and drink from every society throughout time are set out for the taking, filling the air with strange and exotic scents. Music plays, appealing to erratic tastes, switching from dirges, to jaunty ballads, to waltzes, but played so expertly that one slides seamlessly into the next.

The Father of Fey sits upon a relatively humble high-backed antique chair. In one hand he holds a crystal goblet full of dark purple liquid that has already stained his lips.

An albatross swoops in an open window to deposit kelp on his lap. He plucks it up, sniffs at it, and then glances over the message with a raised brow. “If you wouldn’t mind, staying for a moment,” he remarks offhandedly to the bird. It squawks at him.

Nes goes back to wine-fueled contemplation until sea foam drifts in on the wind.

He reaches over to pour some of the drink into the palm of his hand before gently sweeping it across the neck of the albatross. “Please fly home to your mistress. Feel free to take a fish or whatever on your way out. Call it a tip,” he says. The bird swoops off, dipping down to snatch a boiled squid before departing.

The bird returns to Yir and speaks with Nes’ voice:

“You are under no compulsion to compete, simply by attending… but it is not that sort of contest,” it is a strange thing for the bird to move its mouth in time with the words. “It is a game of wit, creativity, and divine creation. It may take years or decades, to complete, and I offer a worthy prize to the victor. You are welcome to hear me out, and enjoy some entertainment, at my expense. You have the word of a god of honor that I have no nefarious goal or hidden agenda… that I do not plan to share in full. I desire to know you better, but I suppose if you refuse, that tells me something, yes?” the albatross grins as well as it can with a beak, before the temporary enchantment fades.


Female Greater Deity Domains: Chaos (Love, Hate), Charm (Beauty), Art (Wonders), Sin (Lust, Pride), Dreams (Dreamland), Magic (rituals), Civilization (culture), Murder (ritual sacrifice)

The man sent to Jezebelle by Nes returned.
He had no verbal answer to give back. All the goddess of beauty did was leaving a lip shaped mark of red over his tattoo, she deemed it sufficient as an answer.


Female Fledgeling Deity Domains: Open Water(Oceans, Seas), Weather( Wind, Lightening, Clouds, Rain), Monsters (Sea, Sky)

Yir listens to the albatross speak, and can't help but chuckle when the poor thing tries to smile. She absent mindedily straoks the feathers on the bird's head.

Well, he is certainly cheeky, I'll give him that.

With a wicked grin she stands up, unseating the drowsy sea bird, he squawks at her indigently before preening his feathers.

Would you mind sending one more message for me? I know the trip is long... she trails off as the bird opens his mouth expectantly.

Thank you
she takes the breeze blowing delicately off of the sea and forms it into her message before placing the ball of air in the bird's open mouth.

The albatross returns, still with a slight wine stain on his neck and sits quietly on the window sill until he can garner Nes's attention.

The albatross open's his mouth and a gust of wind comes out:

Very well, I agree, when is this gathering? Know that if nothing else you have made me smile.


Male Fledgling Deity

A final message goes out, spoken and heard, from mouth to ear, along old roads and new. It crisscrosses the world until it reaches the the gods themselves.

The party begins whenever you arrive. Time has little meaning. We may gather now, or an eon from now. In my halls, many ages meet, and it is an open invitation.


Sitting in one of the vast gardens of Heaven, with radical plants and animals that mortals could not dream of, Aeon watched as potted trees appeared with tapestry woven from their branches.

An invitation, a new deity, one who spoke of loss and advantages. He would meet this Nes.

In the Kingmaker's hall, several beautiful angels appear in a small flash of light and begin to sing. Their voices ringing in harmony and a beautiful alien tongue. Then in a brilliant flash of light Aeon appears, dressed in a simple white robe. His bare feet cause grass and flowers to spring up where he treads.

He speaks in a calm voice, but it is deep and powerful, commanding and terrifying, kind and loving all at once. "Greetings clever one, I am Aeon, the creator and shepard, light of heaven and all the world."


Male Fledgling Deity

Noise carries in the Metropolis of Nes. It echoes forever down long silent alleys, allowing each word spoken in that place to be heard by all new arrivals.

When Aeon’s angels appear, Nes is in mid-sip of his wine. He’s a little startled, and spills some on himself. The purple stain is banished shortly after Aeon himself arrives. “Someone sure knows how to make an entrance,” he jests. "I should get myself an entourage."

“I’m glad you could make it. I suppose I should get formalities out of the way,” Nes clears his throat and speaks in a far more resonant and godly voice. “Welcome, to you, your servants, and any others who have yet to come. I offer you the rights of hospitality. Bring no harm, do no harm, and I shall do no harm unto you,” he lifts his wine and drinks deeply before setting it down empty. The golden table sags slightly under the impossible feast. All the delicacies of lost worlds and times are within easy reach, despite the seemingly finite size.

“Take a seat unless you prefer to stand? I am happy to provide any entertainment you desire: perhaps the gladiatorial-games of Merihan, the week-long orgy of Tedilasst, or the holy festivals of Aristad?” Nes asks with the polite tones of a host offering refreshments. “Something more exotic, perhaps? I couldn’t preserve more than memories of the great lost civilizations,” he slowly taps his temple. “Thankfully their shadows remain at my fingertips for the amusement of my guests.”


Aeon sits atop the throne that is obvioulsy meant for him, wood inlaid with gold, with wings jutting from the top.

He reaches for a tasty red fruit. "I fing your company entertaining enough." Aeon says in a much softer voice.

"Quite a place you've created here. You seem like the type to make plans, and also the type perhaps not to devulge them, so I'll not ask. Instead I ask, are you enjoying this new creation?"


Lesser God of Death, Evil, and Shadow

Azdan may have roamed this place for a hundred years. Ancient empires, forgotten architecture, things the new world had not yet seen and would never see again.

The capitol of one great empire stacked on top of another. The sense of nostalgia amuses the Last Candle as he strolls through decades of memories. One of his aspects is offended—there ought be nothing to survive the end of any world. If things must persist, they should begin anew.

Another of his aspects takes somber appreciation. The totality of death, the passing of millions of lives over the long count of time, the evidence of so many fallen, proud empires, pleases a part of him.

Whatever the method of preserving these memories, this Nes would bear watching closely. Does he seek conflict for his petty amusement? To improve the lot of mortals while they last? to gain enough power to prevent the end and rule opposite Azdan as the only remaining god?

With mortals, one answer would be prevalent. With gods, even fledgling ones, many or all of them were possible at once.

The signs point to some sort of planned approach, however, As Azdan glides from the Shadow Palace, to the pinnacle of Nes' estate, the Lord at the End remembers. The great halls and crushed temples he walks through are in order. From times and worlds long past, up until the greatest city of the last world.

The place where the war to end all live saw its climax.

Doubtless even Nes remembered all the details. Azdan won those wars one after another, waiting for eternities at a time under the last coals of life finally burned out. And even being the architect of the end, the appointed vigil of every end, Azdan struggled to remember even a few details of each apocalypse.

The Lord of Death gathered his aspects and focused his will. Ascending the stairs to enter Nes' abode from its ancient dungeons, he spreads his arms in customary fashion. His black cloaks drops to the floor behind him, dark as ever.

For the thousandth time, he greets Nes for the first time.

"Noble One. It appears I have failed yet again," he says with a smile.


Female Fledgeling Deity Domains: Open Water(Oceans, Seas), Weather( Wind, Lightening, Clouds, Rain), Monsters (Sea, Sky)

A clap of thunder announces Yir's arrival from a gathering storm cloud. She gently descends, cradling the albatross in her arms. What was more startling was the mass of ocean water that followed her. It was hard to understand why she would do such a thing, that was until a tentacle emerged from the mass and positioned itself under the goddess's feet. She nodded a quick thank you before taking a seat on Asildon's tentacle, allowing him, and the magic bubble she had made around him to carry her to the center of the city.

My apologies, Kingmaker, for bringing along some guests that were not strictly speaking invited. I am sure you remember this little one. she scratches the head of the bird in her lap the mass of sea water contains Asildon, head of my vanguard. I thought it would be appropriate for him to see this civilization, and memories from times past. I do hope you don't mind. The last part she says with a raised eyebrow.

She turns to the other gods, I do believe that we have not yet had the pleasure of meeting yet. I am Yir, The Maelstrom and Lady of the Sea, it is a pleasure to meet you.
She offers a small bow to the gods in attendance.


Male Fledgling Deity

“Very well. Speak up if you change your mind,” Nes replies genially to Aeon. “Thank you, although I can take little credit for my Metropolis. The preservation and organization is my doing. I am like a conductor getting praised for the work of an orchestra. It was a team effort, and I have simply outlived anyone else who could take credit,” he says.

“Ah, but you misjudge me sir. I quite enjoy divulging my plans. Some might call it monologuing,” he winks conspiratorially. “These cosmos are off to a fine enough start, I suppose, but I do have some suggestions on how it can be improved. That is actually my secret hidden purpose behind this little gathering of the gods.”

As Azdan sweeps into the room, Nes barks laughter in response to his words. “Perhaps not, and you are simply playing with me as a cat toys with a mouse,” he remarks while reaching out to refill his cup with frostberry wine from the lost kingdom of Zalakar. “Perhaps all your big talk of ending things is just that, and you are in no true hurry to turn the last page of the final book,” he teases. Nes is apparently the sort of god to have good natured fun at death’s expense.

He opens his mouth as if he means to continue, but the thunder of Yir’s arrival interrupts him. He nods in greeting to the sea goddess. “Of course not, milady. It would be a poor party if the host turned away unexpected guests. I look forward to seeing your new creations socializing with the angels.”


Female Fledgeling Deity Domains: Open Water(Oceans, Seas), Weather( Wind, Lightening, Clouds, Rain), Monsters (Sea, Sky)

I̫͕̼̭ͨ̍͌͆́ ̥̍̈́̾̐g̥̣̰͖̘̠̺̉͌̽͑́r̗͓̻̩͜é̹̝̳ͬ̿̓e̞̎̎̉ͩ͊̀t͎̑̃ ̪̥͍̟̰̯̦̂̍y̥̜̥͎̞̯̏̓̐ͨ̾͗̊ǫ̝̗̜̲̉̂u̢̺͓̻̘̘̜̬,͓͉̣̜̣͐̑͑̂̐ ̤͍̹͕̯͍̍ͣͮ͡G̙͡o̴͈̳͔̬̦̭̠ͭ̈́̇d͒̒ͤ͑̒́s͉͇͇̹̻ͣ ͊̌̐̿́҉͔̩̩̥̳͕ã̶ͪ̓̂ͬ̄̐n̠͙͗ḋ͚̖̦ ̮̺͜G̪̘͕͎̜̋͒ŏ̊͗͐̊ͫ͜ḍ̢̻̣d͈̱̫̓͗ͣ̾͂͌̔͞e̓̾̇̅̚s͍̠͉̙̘͍̯̋̕s͈͍͓̹͕̠͆̑ͅ,͙͉̆͆͗̐ͯͣ̆ ̘͙̱̺̮̼̄ͮ͒b̦̗̬̦̬͎̀ͅŏ̯̜͕̥̩̦̹͑͌̽ͬ͐̏͝t̃ͥ̄̓̒͋ĥ̢͎͍̳̦̲ ͖̰́̌ͨͮõ̫̭̫͊̓̕f̟̼͇̒͑̽ ̩̫̺͔̗͕͒͊nͭ͏͍̠̝͇ē̖͓̑̅͆w͛̒̽ͧͤ҉͎̠̩̻͓͈̮ ̮̙̒̾̔͟ä̛͚́ͮ͛̌̍̀̎n͍̟̘̜̯̒͒ͤd̠̹͈̱͙ͥ̂̊́ͯ ̸̠͍̠͈͉̒̎ọ͕̟͔̅l͕͗̆d͔̜̭.̣͍̺̟̼̿ͩ̋̋ͨ͋
̗̗͕̹͉ͣI̭̜̺̮̲̣͆̇̽͐͝ṭ͍̱̯̙ͧ͗ ̵̻̠͎̞͉̖̆͒̀̊ͩ̈ͅi̟̥̹̙̻̰͓š̳̪̲͈̩̜̩͆ ̃ͪ̉̓̏ͬ҉͇̮̮̻̬̣a̘ṅ̗̭̟̹̭ͤͥ ̍̌ͦ̏̚h̹͓͙͍͈̟o̟͔̳̭̿͢ñ̘̪̣̠̼̻͕ͯ͊̀õ̡͓͉͂r͚̟̮͚ͭ̋͐̊͒ͣ̓ ̠͔̥̪̅̄̊́b̮̝̤̰́͐̓̑̌͡e̥͓͡i̮n̶̗̱̰̼̟̞ͨg̱̦̊̈̒̈͐̚ ̨͓̻̝͎̻̬̮ͯi͍̝̥̱͈̇n̪̝̱͍̒͂̆́ ̼̤̫̣̞̽̀̒͠ͅy̜͕̬̻̫̲̥̍̑̚ǒ̟̰̏ͨu̹͊r̤̟̺̺̺͚͋ͅ ̨̣̺̤̪̾̆͒̂̍ḩ̖̰͈͉̇̑͛͂ͅͅͅa̝̞̫̝͂̈̄̃ͫl̰͉̩̝͇̂l̛̜ͦ̒ͧ ̃̂̓ͩ͗҉͔̹̠̩̤a̖̭̾ͨ̓ͅš̜͕͉͇̎̈ ̣́ͤ̀̂́̚a̟̝̜͔ͬ̇̀ͯ ̭̬̣̗̂͂̊͛̂g̦̪̱̗̦̟̝̍ͧ̌̈́ͮ̉̅u͎̦͚͚͋̂͠e̳̲̻̬̻͂̔̄ͬ̄͋s̨̱͎̲̳͙̽̔tͥ̈͊̉̋͞,̡̎̍ ̣ō̴̟̒ͦ͛̄h̬̿͢ ͚̣͚̗͂̾ͣ̽N͚̖̎ͣ̉́ͥe̞̻͎̦̟ͤ̒̋ͦ͌ͩͣͅș͇ͥ̌͌ͭ̒ͨ,͍͖̬͓̒͒̇ͮ͊͛̓ ̨̬̮̍K̲̭̜ͯ̅̅i̺̪̝̺͔̊̽͑ͬ͗n͖̐̓̑ͨ̿g̷̗̳̩̓̍͐̐͊ͧm̰̗̹̰̗͒̋̈̓͘a̺̭̘̥̎͑̌́kͯ͌ͥ͐͋ͯͬ͢ẹ̅̐rͤ ҉͖̥͇̦ ͉ͮ͡â̳͚̳̞̠͛͐ͣ̐͛n̶̰͎̖̖̮͎͊͋d͉̮ͫͬ̚ ͖̪̼͇ͪͭ̚͡F͜a̮̔͐ͥͪ͝t̹͐ͩ̊͝ͅh̫̝̹̺̩̼̞ͭ͝ê̙͚̰̳̲̥̹̍̈́̀̓ͯ̄r͔̱̮ͮ͆ ͉̝ͨͯ̔ő̰̜̯͂ͤ͊̽f̜̞̠͕̰̩́̅ͪ̅̈́̍͡ ̲̞̘̮͂͗̾ͨ̌̆̚C̜̪͕̩̦͑͐̊͊͊͛ī̜̟̯̰́v̛͙̜̘̺̘̹ͨ͒͗̌i͛ͬ̅l̵̬̜̺ͯ̃̄͒̉̓ĭ͒͒z̮̩̆̀̍ͦ͒͠ã̋ͯ̂ ̒ͧ҉̲͔̥̰͈̯̳t̶̞̹͈͍̠į̫͕͗o̬̬̭͖̬̫ͧ̊̔͢n̜͓̣̤̾̑͐́ͪ͊ͥ.̅̈ͣ͏̞[

A tremendous sound comes from Asildon's bubble, almost incomprehensible by any one in attendance.
Yir blinks before turning back to the mass of sea water,
Deep one, I do not think they can understand you when you speak, maybe try the bird as your mouth piece?

There is a shift of shadows in the dark water and then stillness. The albatross that had been previously slumbering contently in her lap now woke and jumped down from her lap. Rigidly his beak opened and a deep, masculine voice, that seemed to reverberate through the very structure of the building spoke.

My apologies Gods, and Goddess, I was unaware that my voice does not convey well above the surface. If I may repeat myself,
I greet you, Gods and Goddess, both of new and old.
It is an honor being in your hall as a guest, oh Nes, Kingmaker and Father of Civilization.
I hope that I do not disrespect any of those in attendance by communicating in this fashion.

The bird slumps slightly before shaking his head and squawking at the mass of sea water. He then preens and settles down, watching the deities below.

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