Omaz Almas eyes the growing world, "Each of us will have our own path, but our paths will cross, time and time again. Conflict will be inevitable eventually. I do not seek it. I merely realize each of us will be true to our own natures and said natures will not always be in harmony."
"Mortals are not toys to be played with, crushed, and rebuilt at will. They are to be gently guided into structured society, where they can create great works and achieve far more than any automaton."
Dyrm sighs, "Beg to differ on playing with them. The fact they're mortals and not automatons means they'll crave adventure, excitement and new experiences! They WANT to play. They'll learn that some of us play rougher than others eventually. And in return for the risk of death and danger, we offer reward and glory that lasts as long as their cultures can tell a story! This will be exciting!" His mood shifts to energetic as he thinks about it.
"Deadly play is not really play, Dyrm. And, while some mortals may crave adventure and excitement, it is theirs to choose, not ours to force."
"I wholeheartedly disagree with that statement. Send the mortals off on adventures. The world wouldn't be any fun without someone doing something right Dyrm?"
"Oh my, I feel quite at the center of attention and from such two divine ladies," Dyrm says with delight, "Risk is part of any life worth living, and while it's best when its chosen as Artesse says, sometimes you find those sorely in need of a kick in the pants, or a hot poker in the ass as the case maybe...so I suppose I agree with Belisious too. Have I offended or mollified you both?" The smile on the mask becomes a wider grin.
"Perhaps I could start looking up for my stories" Nimeton "sits" with rapt attention to see what unfolds
"Perhaps I could start looking up for my stories" Nimeton "sits" with rapt attention to see what unfolds
"Yes, praise those mortals in song and story for mortals brave enough to risk their lives for adventure. We should encourage it I think," Dyrm suggests, even if that may not have been what Nimeton was talking of
Round 3
Omaz Almas decides he's spoken enough. They still have a world to build.
Once more he gathers power to him.
"We need more land still, before all is said and done," His voice booms.
Rising from the ocean floor, starting at the north western part of the largest land mass, earth shifts and moves, extending outward to form the start of a crude peninsula. Clearly, he wants to build it more from there, but there is little else he can do at this point. Rather than mountains, it is mostly plains and forests. At the farthest point, it begins to chill, growing cold and brisk with snowfall starting.
Omaz Almas seems tired, "Not enough. I grow too weak to build it as I hoped. Perhaps another time."
"Well, since you're too proud to ask for help, I think I'll put my attention elsewhere, but where? Mmmm..." Dyrm seems to circle the land, "First, to gather the energies needed for whatever I'm going to do...which I really have no idea to be honest, the fun is not knowing."
For a moment, he seems to consider the eastern landmass, but then fussily says, "No. I think I'll wait. I made islands, no one seemed impressed, and now I'm depressed."
"Hmmmm"Nimeton sighs and stares longingly at the land devoid of sentient life
"I guess I will continue to expand the center landmass"
Hmm; I see nothing that needs doing.
He thinks for a moment Perhaps someone would like to make a deal? The use of my power now in exchange for theirs later?
[dice=Massive gather power]5d6+1+1
Hmm; I see nothing that needs doing.
He thinks for a moment Perhaps someone would like to make a deal? The use of my power now in exchange for theirs later?
Omaz Almas, depleted as he is, still declines, "Generous in its way, but not for me."
Belsious nods immediately to Eyero's offer.
"Deal."
Belsious calls upon some of Eyero's power.
Belisous unleashes her power across the land in an effort to create life.
Suddenly the rocks in the Valley of the First begin to move. They stand up tall and straight taller than even the tallest tree. They stand there silently guarding over the grove. They spend their time guarding the grove, and mountains protecting it from any mortals. While the wildlife can move around freely any creature attempting entrance into the Valley will die under their weapons. They are completely silent communicating through thought rather than word, and they reproduce by dying. As soon as one dies it falls into pieces that become smaller Titans that then grow as the years go by. The largest of them will create the most when they die.
"Let them be called Titans, and all who tread upon The First Valley shall fear them."
The second race is less violent than the first being creatures borne aloft on wings of red and black. They spend their time in the trees and the air dancing through the skies, and rarely letting their feet touch the ground for very long. They are like normal humans in every other way through. The favored of Belisous grow wings of red, and those born pure red are seen as great signs for the future.
"Beautiful. They shall be known as Strix."
Omaz Almas beholds these Titans, "I am .... impressed, Belisous, and thank you for your efforts to protect the Valley of the First. They are a darker shade of protector than I would make myself, but I have no doubt in their capability. I shall make my presence known to them...in time."
He is not blind to the Strix either, they remind him of the hawks that flew in the valleys of his old world, in their way. "I sense great promise in these as well. "
12 including remaining from last time.
Hmmm...
From within Nyakushuur's realm to the east, a breeze stirs up the sounds of growth and decay. Leaves, seeds, and roots are being picked up by invisible hands and form a massive cloud, that rotates and increases in size. Then, a darkness appears and consumes everything, leaving only tiny motes of dust that settle down within the forests.
On the other side of the world, a black cloud appears out of nowhere, reaching out with shadowy tentacles and consuming organic matter. Then, in a green flash, the cloud is filled with leaves, seeds, and roots. Where they fall upon the ground, they immediately begin to grow. But the earth below is sick with poison, and many trees die, forming piles of dead matter. The darkness within the cloud increases and spreads all its tentacles deep into the ground, and the cracking of stone and wood echoes eerily through the land.
When the cloud disappears, a nightmarish forest covers the poisonous caverns. Undead trees root deep within the ground, bringing poison to the surface and allowing only the tiniest speck of living green here and there. Pale flowers spread hallucinogenic pollen, and agile branches snatch at passing animals to feed upon them.
"Growing, surviving, always adapting... if not in life, then in death!" Nyakushuur gurgles as she extends her consciousness into her new realm.
Points Remaining: 11
The twins strain, gathering a great amount of energy.
"Brother, we will craft a race of protectors for the world, help me make a place for them." With that, Atresse begins to shape the land, beginning a peninsula on the northwest side of the Omaz Almas's mountains.
"Together, we shall," Zurakar replies, and he also begins to raise land, shaping it into a long peninsula, with an isthmus separating the far reaches of it from the mainland.
"Now for the home of the protectors," Atresse says, opening her eyes, bathing the large flat area of the peninsula past the isthmus in holy radiance. As the light intensifies, granite, veined with gold and silver, rises from ground, reaching ever higher till it rests among the clouds. What was once a wide, rolling flatland has been almost entirely filled with a massive mountain. "Behold, the mountain that shall be known as Estrellus!" she cries as the silver and golden light intensifies even further, causing the climate to become temperate from the foot of the mountain to its peak. No snow will fall here.
Atresse closes her eyes once more and speaks to her brother. "Zurakar, gather what remains of your power. Our greatest task remains." Again she opens her eyes, bathing the mountain in golden and silver light.
At his sister's request, Zurakar gathers his energy, in the form of pearlescent lightning. As it strikes down, it mixes with the gold and silver light, eventually coalescing into one great mass of light. After a time the light separates into a great host of beautiful winged beings.
Some have skin of gold, silver, bronze, copper, or iron. Others are the shades of pearl, emerald, ruby, granite, marble, amethyst, citrine, amber, onyx, or sapphire. Some have wings of metal, while others have wings of feathers, or even pure energy. The smallest of the host are a mere 3 feet tall, while the largest stretch to 20 feet or more. The light dies down, the creation complete.
In unison the twins speak, "You are the celestial host. It is your duty to protect this world from the forces of destruction and death. This mountain, known as Estrellus, shall be your home."
"Nyakushuur," Omaz Almas gasps in horror at the unique foliage she has made, "What have you done? What life has a true chance to thrive in such a place?" He can feel the blight within the green, and it causes the massive god to shudder in revulsion.
Then the twins go to work, and Estrellus arises, "A lonely but powerful mountain to be sure...."
Then the Celestials arise, "Or not so lonely. The skies of this world shall be quite busy I see." They prepare for war, wise, but I Hope in preparing for it they do not bring it all the sooner. Still, such a world of contrasts. Between the undeath poisoning the land, the fury of the titans, and the holy wrath waiting... I fear we may break this world between us.
For his own part, Dyrm is gleeful, "Oh my, people to play with arising EVERYWHERE! Games to play at last... but I best wait, they're only half done."
Pyreous watches and waits, holding onto his gathered power as it wreathes him like a storm.
Karmesh looks down on the recent creations, smiling upon the angelic mountain of Atresse and Zurakar, and scowling at the unholy forests of Nyakushuur. Then, he raises his arms. The land follows his gesture, rising from beyond the sea to bathe in his light.
"This too will be the realm of my people, for the land is rich and the skies are clear, and no harm shall come upon them here!"
Karmesh turns to Omaz"I can appreciate the strength of the guardians called Titans, but I am sure that she didn't place them in the Valley of the First on a whim. Be watchful, Mountain-Shaper, be watchful."
Remaining Points: 14.
[dice=Gathering Power #3 (Massive)]5d6 + 9
Karmesh looks down on the recent creations, smiling upon the angelic mountain of Atresse and Zurakar, and scowling at the unholy forests of Nyakushuur. Then, he raises his arms. The land follows his gesture, rising from beyond the sea to bathe in his light.
"This too will be the realm of my people, for the land is rich and the skies are clear, and no harm shall come upon them here!"
Karmesh turns to Omaz"I can appreciate the strength of the guardians called Titans, but I am sure that she didn't place them in the Valley of the First on a whim. Be watchful, Mountain-Shaper, be watchful."
Remaining Points: 14.
"You fear she has a dagger at the heart of this world? I am not blind to the potential, but I have watched what I love undone before...twice. One grows used to the ache... in time," Omaz Almas says, "We shall see what comes of this."
Centuries pass as before, but now there are sentient mortal beings that know the passage of time. They age and wither, each in their own way. Even the titans crumble... but of course, they also begat new generations of their own. They are primitive, and savage, these new primordial races, ready for the gods to advance them, or leave them as they are.
And still much of the sea and land awaits the touch of the gods.
Omaz Almas observes this, and contemplates what to do next. One thing is certain, he will need power anew.
He breathes in the winds of the world, and seems larger than ever before, even if only for a moment.
Out of the north, cold chill mountains rise as the peninsula made before expands further. Not too much, but now rise among the pines and ever greens mountains as well, and snow falls more often than not as the climate becomes chill. It will have strong winters and those who dwell in it must get used to snow and ice, yet it will have moments of great beauty, and a river flows from it's mountains, ice chunks crashing at the northern area until it finally returns to the temperate lands and becomes a beautiful blue.
And then he rests again, "It is better. Yes."
Belisous sighs happily as she makes the first changes to civilization as well.
Suddenly the Titans are not only throwing around weapons the sizes of trees, but now they also have mastery over the most potent healing magic as well.
Then Belisous glances over at Eyero and offers him back the power she borrowed.
Dyrm eyes Omaz's creation, and yawns, "Do you know ANY other tricks?"
He doesn't wait for a response. Instead he starts to gather his own energies, chuckling as he does.
"Well, that was lack luster. Ah well...enough for what I need."
........
It was then that Dyrm noticed a particularly complacent group of Strix, who had made serviceable homes among some caves for many years. Then, one day, a great shaking of the land caused the mouths of their homes to collapse cutting them off from the sky.
Yet visions came to the dreamers among them, dreams of a world below, tunnels would lead them to great hidden wonders and terrors they'd never seen. It would also transform the heirs of this small tribe forever. As they made their way blind through the underground canyons, they began to change, feathers faded, and wings grew leathery. Their ears elongated to pick up the smallest sound, including the shrieks they made. Their faces were still very human, save for those ears and the teeth that grew pointed and sharper.
And yet Dyrm guided their dreamers, and told them the change was necessary to survive, and perhaps, prosper. If they pleased the shadow god, he would aid them. Some day their descendents might return to starlight, while others lingered here under ground to found an empire if they wanted. IF they waited. It would not be easy.
They were no longer Strix, not really. They were Vesper!
And they began to understand the shadow as few could.
Dyrm's mask grins impossibly, but it is a tired grin, "My first children of the shadow. I DO hope I don't forget about them."
With the new sentient beings Nimeton flashes down to the surface splinters into thousands of motes of light and disappears into each intelligent creature to begin chronicling and learning each of their individual stories. "Finally my greatest source of power!"
"So many stories in just these 3 races alone. I must make MORE!"
All of the created creatures glow slightly for a brief moment then fade back to normal as a tiny mote of light streaks to the desert and circles a few times "hmmm... YOU!" and all of the motes disappear into the sand as it begins to shift from the race of insects out-growing their tunnels and moving to the surface
The insects have a Queen/Drone hierarchy. The Queen has vestigial wings while the drones have functional wings during one part of their life cycle, then molt off. The phases for drones are Larva (mostly helpless slug like appearance, venomous head), Pupae (Rigid Chitinous shell, soft vestigial wings and limbs, rigid mandibles with a venomous bite), Adolescent (Functional wings, rigid chitinous shell, functional legs), Adult (Rigid chitinous shell, Strong legs for jumping, very powerful mandibles, soldier/guard mandibles are overgrown, wings molt off but keep wing covers can "Fall with style")
The Queen has a similar life cycle with the exception of the abdomen never leaves the larval stage and continues to grow. Queens only pass to full adulthood when another queen is born and subsequently assassinated by her harem to make room for the new queen. To protect the Queen, she is placed in a burrow near the "garden" with her harem, guards, and larvae, the pupae are the gardeners.
Adolescents scout for enemies and food and relay that information to the adult drones who head out in force to either harvest or protect the territory.
This race will eat anything, but usually subsists on mold and fungus grown in shallow burrows, when it can't catch live prey. A portion of the prey is always thrown into the "Garden". When one of the race is about to die or has died, the shell is rubbed on the "garden" walls to help reinforce them as well as make it easier for the molds and lichens to consume the corpse.
Their shell has a waxy coating to trap in water and repel enemies. It is also used to reinforce the mold and fungus colonies.
Nyakushuur reappears from her realms, shedding poison, leaves, and decay as her consciousness ascends back to the celestial heights. "Too many walkers, too many wings, too many things not quite born within the shadows of my forests..." she whispers, drawing power from all her roots within the world itself. And through those roots, she absorbs the power of life, and the power of death, and she breathes on her opended palm.
From her breath, bones and decay form a body, functional and robust.
From her breath, roots and leaves bring strength and regeneration.
From her breath, birth goes into death and into birth again, until it becomes a rapid cycle.
And upon her hand, a creature is born. Bright, green eyes gaze upon the wonders of the world, yet it radiates a constant darkness. It is alive for one full moon, then it dies and comes back with a new body formed by the materials provided within Nyakushuur's realm. It will always change, but it will never cease to exist.
"Rise, Azzaruki, rise and enter my realm. Be my agent, be my eyes, be my ears. This life, and the next one, and all the lifes after that, they will all be yours!"
From her outstretched hand, Azzaruki jumps down into the world, vanishing within the shadows of Nyakushuur's forests. Soon, it spawns others of its kind, and the forests aren't empty anymore. They are filled with sounds of hunting, of dying, and of breeding. They are filled with the screams of Azzaruki.
Points remaining: 4.
"A new dawn in this age. Now, the world will see my light become flesh, and a new race of mighty people shall walk the plains and rule within my realm!." Karmesh starts flashing his light, becoming brighter and brighter with each flash. The rhythm increases in speed, until his power and heat surpasses this world's boundaries. Waves of light begin to crystallize, and fall down from heaven as glowing shards.
"I will give you my light, as life, and as power, and as guidance, so you will never lose your path in this world." Karmesh stops pulsating and catches these shards with both hands. He gathers clay from the marshlands and forms it into strong, humanoid shapes. In each form, he puts a tiny shard of his light, breathing upon it until it starts to glow and melts with the clay. After that, Karmesh spits upon the figures, transforming fired clay into smooth matter again. At the end of his ritual, Karmesh gently puts down the clay figures into the world, and increases his light again, but only for a tiny moment. He sheds millions of light particles, who rain down upon the lands and animate the clay figures with life.
"Sireath, children of the sun, my children!" Karmesh calls down from the sky. "This is your world now, and for as long as you follow my divine light, I will hold your destiny close to my heart."
Points Remaining: 1.
Hmm. I wonder... Eyero draws at the power of the universe, pulling it into himself.
He sighs That was disappointing. I shall wait.
After she draws in more power, Atresse looks down lovingly upon her creations, infusing them with more of her essence. "My children, this mountain is your home. Build upon it a grand city where you can flourish until the end of time."
Zurakar watches the angels flourish as they build their city, as the years flow by he takes note of a particular angel. She is 12 feet tall, with skin like pearl, and hair that resembles flowing gold. Her name is Imiriel. She is exceedingly intelligent, soon becoming a leader of the city, which the angels have named Twinstar, and creating its first library. In time she has children, and grows old. On her death bed, with her large family gathered around her, Zurakar descends from above stepping foot into the mortal world.
"Imiriel, I have watched you all your life, and judge you worthy," Zurakar says to the aged angel. "You shall be my avatar in this world if you so choose."
"Yes, my liege, I accept your great offer," the angel replied, and Zurakar extended his hand toward her, his power, as always in the form of pearlescent lightning, lifting her from her bed. With a flash her youth was restored. Together, deity and avatar ascended to the heavens above.
In time Imiriel returned, with orders from Zurakar to have the angels create a great library, a tower that reaches hundreds of feet above the city proper, where the angels may research all the knowledge and magic of the world.
"Atresse and Zurakar, you have done well by this world. May your presence never cease to enlighten your people and the great city you built do close to our watchful paths in the skies. It is a wonder to behold!"
Wishing for his own people, but lacking the power, he co-opts another.
Create Avatar: Pyros, born among Angels, a warrior obsessed with bringing the light to the dark places. Frustrated with the seeming complacency of his fellows.
Create Order: The Pyrovar, A militaristic order of Angels, following the precepts of Pyros. Still LG in nature, just more expansionist and militaristic.
2 power remaining (?) (10 Create Avatar, Create Order 8 Create Order)
That is much better. Now I can do as I have desired.
The Lord of Undeath draws a jagged bone dagger from his robes. With a swift movement he opens a long gash in what remains of his left hand. Black blood splatters across the world, falling like acid from the skies. Wherever it touches, the ground boils. A moment later creatures begin to emerge from under earth and stone--Risen bodies from every intelligent race. Some are swathed in rotting flesh, others only bare bones. All of them are hideous.
With a scream of pain, Eyero wields the blade a second time, this time sawing the skin and muscle away from his bone. Howling again, he breaks off his forearm, leaving the shredded mass of flesh hanging. After grinding the bone to powder with another instrument, Eyero flings it through the air, where it spreads and vanishes.
Eyero looks on these creations with glee, then stops, thinking. Even the undead cannot avoid fate forever. They will each be destroyed eventually. I had better provide them a better place to rest. He looks at Atresse, But the creation of a pleasant afterlife needs fuel from someone of purer heart than I. Atresse, may I take some of yours? He chuckles, not waiting for an answer. Why do I even ask? We all know I'm going to take it anyway. He lunges. Blood spurts. The wound heals instantly, but the true damage is already done. With a grin Eyero fashions a second resting place for the deceased.
[/ooc]Event: create Paradise of the Damned. Any undead creature who has served Eyero to his satisfaction ends up here rather than elsewhere. Each individual lives their own personal perfect reality. Murderers are just as happy here as saints.[/ooc]
"Great now I have to create an afterlife."
(+1 for ending last turn with 1 Power)
"You are the plague of this world, Eyero. May you suffer in your own afterlife when the end of times comes upon us! I shall see to it that you will not put your cursed hands on my people!" With a swift gesture, Karmesh picks up lush island off the coast of his marshlands, and takes it with him. He walks south, far away from the mortal realms, where is light shines bright and the day knows no shadows. There, within a calm ocean, he plants the island down and blesses it. "This will be Nal-Athiemar, the End Of All Things, where the souls of the faithful may gather in piece to live eternity in a neverending day."
Points Remaining: 1.
While the new races catch Omaz Almas' eye, and he nods with approval, the more alarming thing to him is the first city rising, "So THAT begins...such is the way, and as cities go, it is lovely."
When the death god brings THAT death to the world, Omaz Almas is hardly surprised, "A greedy and grasping move, Eyero. The plight of the mortals almost moves even me to tears. Still, you must be true to your nature, as must we all."
Omaz Almas scoops up soil, grass, rock and wood from Estella with one great hand while the other grips and molds a section of the astral. He pours the materials of the physical into this invisible plane. His deep voice rumbles and chants while he does so, and then lightning bursts into the stew of it. He wipes something from his eye, perhaps it IS a tear, perhaps merely dust, and drops it into the mix.
Now, a great valley under a single high mountain, the later wreathed in storms, lays open. The valley itself is lush, with plentiful food and game to hunt, and clear streams to drink from. Yet it is not done. There are trails here, trails that lead spirits to new forms, new lives on the world. Where a member of one race may find themselves as the member of another. Where those who disrespected nature may find themselves reduced to non sentient beasts so they might learn understanding the next life, while those who respected it take on a form more sapient. It is open to all who did not devote themselves to any other god, though those that are especially dear to Omaz Almas will have greater rewards still and be powerful here, the better to protect it if need be.
"The great pass of renewal is done. Here is the center of my wheel of death and rebirth. Of new experiences. Let mortals who worship none other find haven here for a time, but my shepherds who worshiped me will drive them down the trails that suit them best."
And he waits. [End 5th turn)
(+1 for ending last turn with 4 power)
Nyakushuur watches the celestial activity and the creation of new planes with a hungry interest. Again, she reaches into the world with her roots, gathering the powers of life and death into herself, but instead of focusing it into her hands, she sends it back into the world as a single blast of green and black energy. Where it enters her realm, trees grow violent. Their roots start breaking huge rocks from the ground, throwing them skywards, but instead of falling down, the rocks stop moving midair. Then, roots and plants start sprouting below, and soon the rocks are connected with the forests by vines and lianas. Azzaruki begin to climb this natural stairway, and Nyakushuur resides upon the highest rock, looking up into the celestial realms.
"There is energy to feed upon, so much energy, and new realms to grow roots into. Life will get there, unlife will get there, nature always finds a way..." she says like a dire promise.
Points Remaining: 2.
At first, the shadow god is more startled and impressed, "Such a grand play...I admire it."
Dyrm winces at something, "What is that noise?" For even now, a few Vesper die, their souls condemned to torments. He can hear those few souls scream even from here, and it's a horrid jangle on his spine as they pray out to him. "Hey now, those are mine!" What's more, his still living nascent worshipers who live fear and pray to him, wanting answers.
"No one told me worshipers would be so high maintenance," the shadow god sighs. Fortunately, the lost souls are few. And then he feels it, dominion and control over a realm he did not make. One of war and glory, "Belisious, you surprise me! My thanks. I shall try to make this up to you one day." He directs future souls that follow him to there for now, and in the plane he creates a warrior's festhall, where between battles and conquests, souls may boast, gamble, couple in side rooms, and drink shadowhued wine. They can only stay so long before returning to their regularly scheduled afterlife, of course.
Other souls drift to Omaz Almas Pass of Renewal.
Both infinitely preferable to Eyero's damnation.
Dyrm begins to gather his power.
"Well, I don't believe in destiny, but there's no reason I can't teach them possibilities and besides this way they'll be able to tend to themselves."
The Vesper feel their confusion fade as their dreams grow more intense and clear. They can hear whispers of what might be if they just stop and listen. They begin to grasp certain aspects of divination, methods of prophecy. They know better how to avoid the dangers of the here after, and more, they know that eventually their people will have a glorious afterlife by their god. Rather than be driven by horror of what hell they might go to, they find themselves curious about the now partially parted veil into the future. A few go mad from this, but they were no doubt Belisious' most faithful sons and daughters among the Vesper, and their insanity may please her.
"Where the dead choose to linger is of little concern, but still..."
There is an almighty crack as pathways between planes open.
Event (10): Gates between individual planes open, they are remote and difficult to find, but with enough perseverance or aid a being or soul can escape their prisons and move to something better. Or a determined person can travel to the underworld from Etella to retrieve a loved one.
4 remaining
"Where the dead choose to linger is of little concern, but still..."
There is an almighty crack as pathways between planes open.
Event (10): Gates between individual planes open, they are remote and difficult to find, but with enough perseverance or aid a being or soul can escape their prisons and move to something better. Or a determined person can travel to the underworld from Etella to retrieve a loved one.
4 remaining
"Why Pyreous, you sly fox!" Dyrm approves, "That was going to be my move in a few centuries. Do you mind if I tell my worshipers I wheedled you into it. I'd prefer conned, but given the 'out' you just made for yet more, I feel I owe you a drink at least."
Belisous also glance appreciatively at the gate.
"I love a good story about a hero who loses his way for all eternity slowly growing older as he looks for his lost love until he can't even move. Forced to live out his life in a rotting shell because he cannot die, and he cannot move."