Fool From The Depths
The Fountain (Present Day)
Numerous parts of Picoceles' body twitched as he struggled to contain his fury over Nathan's terrible puns. Calm yourself, Picoceles. He thought to himself. Stay calm. Stay. Calm. You must not show your rage while Cato is watching. You must be continue to be a gentleman. Do not fall for his petty barbs."I have no interest in Stella's alcohol at the moment, high quality though it may be." He sighed. "I simply wish to survey this new mortal world, so that I may learn of its intricacies and the changes that other gods have made in my absence. Then, once my assessment is complete, I shall go about making my own mark on it. As for the reason I am so late...that is the fault of one of my servants, and not myself. They took far too long to deliver Cato's message. I made sure they were punished accordingly."
He strode towards the outline of the new mortal world that lay within the fountain, and gazed down at it, looking it over and scanning it, quickly figuring out the landscape as well as all of the changes that had already been made by the gods that had touched the world before him.
"Interesting..." he muttered.
Something's Fishy Here...
Druid Dude
Nathan Munsen, Fountain of the Gods Pavilion, 4 Days Ago
"I'm right here." Nathan jokingly grouses, but tilts his head, tapping his index finger against his chin thoughtfully. "You do have a point, though." he amends. "Humans are controlled by the fear of death, and it can affect their actions. With the absence of fear of the one constant, they might relapse." he leans backward, humming thoughtfully.
"I think both of you have a point." he decides, smiling.
"Being a former human, I know the evil that lies within us. Even the best of us have some evil, however little it may be." He places his hand over his heart. "Those who indulge in the pain and suffering of others should be... addressed." his smile turns rigid and eerie. "But this shouldn't be a constant. The best part about humans is their ability to adapt. All of them can, given enough time. Why don't we make a compromise?"
Nathan rubs his hands eagerly. "Why not constantly give painful tests to humans? Tests designed to make them realize their faults and change their ways. If they fail, then the torture goes a different direction." he shrugs. "Inside every sinner is a rainbow. We just have to turn their body and soul into a proper prism." His eyes sparkle eagerly as he asks "Whaddya think?"
Present Day
Nathan raises his eyebrow and smiles slightly at Picoceles. "Too bad." he sighs lightly. "This world is quite different, and I think you'll find at least something to your interest." he looks slightly off-put by Picoceles mentioning his servant, but stays neutral. "Welp, good to see ya, in any case. I'll leave ya to look." he smiles.
Edited by Jules-Firenze on Sep 20th 2023 at 12:39:32 AM
You piss off the Venom T-Rex. Roll initiative.
THE SLORG!
The world of the gods, Fountain of Creation, four days in the past.
"I'm afraid what you said is simply not true, Rav'nixander," Cato said, turning to the floating glyph. The eldest god had a somber expression on his face, and shook his head slightly. "What happens to mortals' souls after they die is one of the things of our reality that is entirely within the control of us gods. It has led some of us to even think that it is our purpose in our own existence. As such, there are mortal worlds out there where the gods overseeing them make the mortals' souls reside in an afterlife of some form or another for eternity, and never reincarnate. Sadly, there are even some, but thankfully few, who erase the mortals' souls from existence altogether, in an even more permanent end."
After his explanation, Cato closed his eyes and hung his head low for a moment. After his short silence, he stood back up, and walked forward slowly, his walking stick tapping on the floor with each step, until he was somewhere between Samauth, Rav'nixander, and Nathan, without directly blocking any of them from each other. "Is it moral and just to punish a mortal's soul after they die for the wrongdoings they did in their lives, even if it does not dissuade other mortals from continuing to do wrong?" Cato asked, looking at Samauth. "Does the answer change if the punishment is not eternal, but finite?" Cato asked, looking at Rav'nixander. "And should they be held accountable for that which is due to their inherent nature, or the way they were made by their own creators?" Cato asked, a more disapproving expression on his face as he looked at Nathan.
"Truly, none can say what the correct answers to those questions are. Not even I," Cato said, turning his view to the transparent image of the mortal world, still slowly circling around just outside the pavilion. "It is up to every god who decides to make an afterlife to find their own answers to those questions," the eldest god continued, then finally turned his attention back towards Rav'nixander.
"If you do not like the answers Samauth has for those questions, then you may attempt to persuade him to see differently. Or, you may create an afterlife of your own for mortals of your choosing. However, it is not possible for you to force his hand," Cato told the city god, then turned to Samauth. "Of course, the same is true the other way around as well. Rav'nixander's answers are their own to find. Not for you to make for them."
The world of the gods, Fountain of Creation, present.
Cato had remained looking at the mortal world, not really responding to either Picoceles or Nathan, until the prince time god mentioned the message being delivered late. "My message?" Cato repeated in a curious tone, turning to Picoceles. "Well, I would understand that mistake when one would think that their master would have felt the message, as it passed through their realm," the eldest god noted; his tone suggested he was merely stating it as a fact, not as a jab at Picoceles.
"Still, you are only late if you feel that you are late. You hold no obligation to every new mortal world," Cato continued, turning back towards the mortal world. Without even turning his head, he added, "I hope you did not punish your servant too harshly."
Theri's tundra, (011.006) present, almost noon.
Noel's brow raised a little, the equivalent of great surprise for others, and glanced at the other snow folk, who did look appropriately surprised.
"Perfect, then we may prepare to combat loneliness throughout the world!" one of them said, and a number of the more eager snow folk approached the crystal quickly, placing their hands upon it to accept its magic.
"The timing of it is... Rather convenient," Noel stated. As usual, their tone was almost totally neutral, but what little inflection was upon it suggested that they did not think this was a coincidence. "Did you cause this, Theri?" the less expressive snow folk then asked, turning to the young goddess.
Edited by FirockFinion on Sep 19th 2023 at 9:50:28 AM
You are reading this.
Fool From The Depths
The Fountain (Present Day)
"I would certainly hope I find something interesting. It would be a shame to come all this way, only to find the new mortal world boring and uneventful." Picoceles sniffed. "I shall leave you to your business as well. I have no interest in the doings of humanity."Then, Cato spoke, and Picoceles split himself into two identical clones, one who was still scanning the fountain, and one who hastily turned towards Cato to speak with him.
"I- I don't know why I didn't sense it." he said, seeming rather nervous and flustered all of a sudden. "I-I should have noticed immediately, I don't know why I didn't..." Then, Cato brought up the punishment of his servant, and his anxiousness only increased. "I-I assure you, the punishment will be short and temporary. They will be back in action as good as new quite soon, I promise you!"
Meanwhile, his other self continued looking over the world, making considering noises until a particular point on the map caught his attention.
"Aha! Perfect!"
013.007
Picoceles projected himself down to the location that had intrigued him. He found himself near the top of a towering, rocky mountain, cold and desolate except for a few patches of sparse lichen. However, this was not the case for the lands below, or at least not all of them, as while one half of the mountain loomed over a snowy tundra, the other half overlooked distant green forests and grassland. One could perhaps say that the mountain was the dividing line between the two, in a sense."Yes, yes...I can work with this..." Picoceles chuckled to himself as he analyzed the area. "You should feel honored, mountain. You shall be the first place in this new world to be touched by my brilliance!"
With that, a distinct finger snapping sound rang out through the mountain, echoing off its craggy peaks. Instantly, part of its rocky surface turned to quicksilver, transmuted into pure mercury. The puddle quickly began to bubble, and part of its surface began to lift upwards, forming a shape, until from out of the mercury, a humanoid being composed of pure silver, with elf-like ears and features of an unearthly beauty. More soon emerged from the puddle, until the puddle itself had disappeared, all of its mass used to create the now dozens of new lifeforms that stood before Picoceles, looking at him expectantly.
"Greetings, my children!" he said, spreading his arms wide in a dramatic gesture. "You must surely have many questions. I shall do my best to answer a few of them. I am Picoceles, god of time, and I am your creator. You are the Picans, my progeny, the ones destined to bring harmony and prosperity to this chaotic world. How does it feel to be alive?"
Something's Fishy Here...
Galius' Forge
Galius scratched his beard as he listened to Kadrin, a spindle either with unfathomable power or an irresistible temptation to have it, its smart to use an item like that to start a war and use the mortal's greed to create conflict. Dastardly.
Still a request is a request and Galius is neutral to the idea of war but an artifact that manipulates mortal minds its an interesting project.
"Feel free to do as many dramatic speeches as you want, you already convinced me with the idea."
The smith god produced a scroll and quill and began to work on a rough draft of the spindle, a tool for the worker yet only those in power would have it? That calls for unnecessary decorations on a small object that would make it rather inconvenient to use, it still would work but a normal one would be a million times better, add some lines of gold and platinum along the round part and you get a very superfluous spindle truly, there wasn't such cumbersome tool like this before and yet it would be irresistible to anyone. He showed the draft to Kadrin.
"Something like this? I assume you also want it to be indestructible, magic or not , nobody fights for ashes."
THE SLORG!
The world of the gods, Fountain of Creation pavilion, the present.
"Very well then," Cato said simply, with a little nod. "I see you are adding a mortal race of your own," the eldest god then added, still looking towards the mortal world.
Picoceles' mountain? (013.007) The present, almost noon.
One of the Picans glanced down at his own hands, clenching them for a moment. "It feels... Good," he replied to Picoceles, and the others followed in expressing their agreement. "What is this world? What do we face to bring harmony and prosperity to it?" the Pican continued, looking out across the horizon.
You are reading this.
Fool From The Depths
The Fountain of Creation
"Indeed I am." Picoceles said proudly, puffing up his chest a little. "Though I may be late, I'm not going to let a few weeks of lost time stop me. It's time I made my mark on this vast canvas, and oh, I can already tell it's going to be beautiful."Picoceles' Mountain, 013.007
"What is this world? Why, this is the Quedrands, of course." Picoceles chuckled. "A vast land of limitless resources to make your own. Towns, meadows, rivers, oceans, mountains much like this one...anything you desire, you can surely find it here. As for what I mean by bringing harmony and prosperity, well..."Another finger snap noise echoed across the peaks, and lightning suddenly struck a large chunk of rock from above. There was an explosion of heat and light, and when the smoke faded, surrounded by rubble was an ornate glass mirror with a golden rim, its only imperfection being that numerous cracks ran across its surface. However, the mirror did not show the reflections of Picoceles and the Picans. Instead, it showed short videos playing on loop (if this weren't a fantasy world with no internet, it would be comparable to a GIF) of each of the major civilizations of the Quedrands, divided by the cracks in the mirror. The Bakaal, the Ebrinada, the fairies of the trees, Theri's snow folk, Nathan's humans, all were visible, going about their routines in a never ending loop.
"Behold, the other mortal species that walk this earth." Picoceles said with just the slightest bit of contempt, gesturing at his new creation. "Do you see how divided and primitive they are? They all view the world so differently. If they were ever to meet, their differing cultures and ideas would surely result in bloodshed. Your goal, your duty in this world, is to prevent such a violent and unnecessary tragedy from ever occurring."
Had he had a face, he would have possessed quite the wide grin.
"Your objective is to reach each of these civilizations, and unite them under a single banner, a single cause, a single world order. Then, there shall be no chance of any brutality and bloodshed, and all shall live in a beautiful, sophisticated society. After all, how can there be war if all people have the same worldview? It's simple, and it's perfect. Don't you agree?"
Something's Fishy Here...
Galius' Forge, 012.004
"You'd be surprised..." Kadrin grabbed the scroll and held it up to the light. "But yes, making it immune to damage would be preferable, and the plan is excellent." said Kadrin, who seemed genuinely impressed with the speed and quality of the illustrated draft, smiling slyly before turning back to the forge god. "Do you need up-front payment? Oh, and how long shall it take to create? If you don't mind my asking."
Chug, chug, chug. The machine marches on.
The Light That Blinds
Theri (011.006)
"No...no, I didn't. And I have no idea who did."
She looked up at the sky. "But whoever it was, I'm grateful."
"Kept me waiting, haven’t you? Tch. No matter. Dawdle all you’d like. In the end, your defeat remains inevitable."
THE SLORG!
The world of the gods, Fountain of Creation pavilion, the present.
Cato let out a quiet, thoughtful, "hmm," but still just kept looking at the mortal world, watching it as it continued to slowly circle the pavilion.
Picoceles' mountain? (013.007) The present, just past noon.
"The... 'Quedrands'," the Pican muttered, as if getting a taste for the word in his mouth, and being unsure if he liked it or not. The Picans had surprisingly little response to the sudden lightning and explosion, but did turn their attention towards it. They looked curiously at the mirror, and the images upon it.
The same Pican man who had spoken first stepped up to the mirror, placing one of his hands on it and running his fingers over the images of the other mortals. "Unite them without bloodshed?" he wondered, turning his attention back up towards Picoceles. "But what if they resist?" the mortal wondered, taking his hand off the mirror.
Theri's tundra, (011.006) present, just past noon.
"Truly?" Noel wondered, though their tone was still mostly neutral, as usual. Noel then turned their head, following Theri's gaze. "I wonder why they sent it," they added, staring up at the shattered moon.
Soon enough, a number of the snow folk had absorbed magic from the crystal, and had walked back over to the others. Experimentally, with various motions, they each magically drew snow up from the ground and formed coats or cloaks over themselves. With brilliant, sparkling light the manipulated snow turned into proper fabric, becoming adorned with various light colors. These new pieces of clothing radiated an aura of cold just around their wearers, ensuring their protection from warmer climates.
"Excellent. Then, it is time that we travel this world," one of the newly adorned snow folk said, then looked at Theri with a grin. "If you would know where we should go to find any others of this world, please tell us, Theri," he requested, putting his hands together and bowing his head in a show of respect.
You are reading this.
Fool From The Depths
Picoceles' Mountain, (013.007)
"Ah, an excellent question!" Picoceles said, with more cheerfulness than one would expect with such a query. "If you wish to resolve such problems nonlethally, I would advise detaining them so that they are incapable of causing any harm. Then, once they are detained, you can begin re-educating them in the proper ways. It will take time, but eventually, despite their initial feelings of hostility, I am sure they will see the light."Another snap, and the mountain began to change once more. There was an audible rumbling as the rock shifted and molded like putty, until a set of caves was hollowed out, the entrance to each kept sealed with huge barred steel jail doors, requiring a unique key to open each one. Picoceles made a swift and graceful sweeping motion with his cape, and a matching set of silver keys appeared from thin air, being tossed upwards before landing in the hands of the Pican man who had asked him the question.
"Behold! The key to their salvation!" He declared, before chuckling at his own terrible pun. "This should hopefully suffice. Though, just in case you have any trouble escorting them into containment..."
Right on cue, there was more rumbling, and then a large variety of blunt weapons began to pop out of the ground, launched upwards a few feet before landing with a thud. Clubs, hammers and maces were all among the ranks of the assorted arms, more than enough for all the Picans present to wield. "These should help you detain them, though I would still be careful if you don't want to shatter any skulls. And, if all else fails..."
With a puff of purple smoke, a small mahogany table appeared in front of him, and atop it was a golden call bell.
"...Simply ring this bell in your time of most dire need, and help from above shall I appear. I promise it." He finished. "Though, I have faith that you shall not need it for quite some time, if ever. You are my very own creations, after all."
Something's Fishy Here...
Fwomph
Fountain Of Creation, The Matter Of Deaths
Your assumption is that the basal nature of mortals is to cruelty. I take umbrage with your assumption; the base nature of mortal species outside of our collective making is shaped by the civilizations under which they enter our purview and thus is ultimately a matter of socialization. For those that are created under the auspice of gods is it not the burden of the creating god themself to not make their own mortals evil by nature unless shackled to your ideals under fear?
The glyph representing Rav'nixander has no expression, no body language discernable amid its abstract shape. But it flickers just slightly as the god of mortals outlines it stance. And then Cato delivers the news that actually everything Rav'nixander dreaded about the gods and was from its very creation to not allow to continue was truth. Unfortunately, there was the matter of other facts about the gods Cato had rendered prior. The glyph visibly warps before snapping back into its proper shape.
I will be in my Realm. Strategizing. Do not interrupt me for anything more than the vital.
And the glyph fully flickers out of the fountain.
20.16
The city-body of Rav'nixander groans, steam bursting from joints in its titanic arm as it raises a hand and slams it back down into the mud of the lakeshore.
"Maker Ral. Temper my core. For I stand among cruel gods with no check..."
It's clearly a case of backroom political albumizing.
The Light That Blinds
Theri (011.066)
"Erm..." Theri blinked, suddenly realizing she had no answer to that question. "Would you all...give me a moment?"
Theri, Fountain of Creation
"Sorry, sorry, won't be long—" The young goddess suddenly popped into existence near the fountain, quickly peering into it to check what other civilizations there were.
"Kept me waiting, haven’t you? Tch. No matter. Dawdle all you’d like. In the end, your defeat remains inevitable."
THE SLORG!
Picoceles' mountain, (013.007) the present, just past noon.
The lead Pican man held the keys carefully in his palm, then clenched his fingers over them, and gave Picoceles a nod. "Then all of this world shall come to know your great vision for them, o great Picoceles!" the Pican man said proudly, grabbing a studded metal club and hoisting it above his head. Behind him, the other Picans all grabbed a weapon of choice and held them up, letting out a great cheer.
"FOR PICOCELES! FOR HARMONY!"
Rav'nixander's city body, (020.016) the present, just past noon.
Having been a little ways away doing something else, it was a minute or so before the little fairy flitted through the woods at the shore and emerged into view. As she passed over it, she looked at where Rav'nixander's hand had impacted the shore, and thrown mud up into the trees like a big blast.
"You seem a bit... Upset," the fairy said as she drew closer to the city body's head, with concern in her tone.
The world of the gods, Fountain of Creation pavilion, the present.
Cato looked over with an expression of mild though sincere interest as Theri appeared to look at the transparent mortal world. "Ah, young Theri. How goes it with your people of the snow? Have you decided to name them yet?" the eldest god wondered, in his usual gentle and polite tone.
As for the mortal world, with her divine senses Theri could see every notable gathering and location on Quedrands. (Save for Cato's bees, which she did not even know were there.) There were the Bakaal and the Ebrinada in the South Western ocean plus the ongoing battle between them, Samauth's volcano top fortress not far from them, Galius' forge and Picoceles' new people both close to her own tundra in the North, Stella's theater a bit further South, Meowing's island with all its magic portals out in the Eastern ocean, and Rav'nixander's body, Nathan's humans, and the magic fairies all in the Southern continent. Theri would possibly even see the space left in the central jungle where the arcane ziggurat once stood, and Icon's cottage as well, though it was a bit easy to overlook.
Edited by FirockFinion on Oct 8th 2023 at 10:29:33 AM
You are reading this.
Fwomph
20.16, The City-Body
"The terrible monster is real. Its heads are myriad and it devours the innocent every moment. And yet my weapons are insufficient. For the monster and I are of the same kind and that kind can bear no harm to each other..."
There is no expression on the metal face, its cyclopean gaze merely staring directly at the fairy.
"The monster is cruel on a scale you likely cannot conceive. I cannot allow it to continue but I bear no means to stop it."
It's clearly a case of backroom political albumizing.
Galius' forge working on projects.
"With the favour is enough for now in terms of payment. As for how long it will take I can't say for sure but shouldn't take too long even considering i'm planning to remodel the forge."
Its time to work. Galius grabbed the big chunk of crystal and used it to upgrade his station, the now modified crystal acting as the main body of the forge and the geyser as its fire, there was still material left and to inaugurate it Galius began working creating the spindle.
"You can stay if you desire but don't break anything."
Fool From The Depths
Picoceles' Mountain (013.007)
"Now that's the spirit!" Picoceles said happily. "Though perhaps consider slowing it down just a tad bit. We can't simply go rushing in willy-nilly. We need to plan things out a bit. And if we're going to be converting all others into a single world order, we need an actual unified idea of what that order shall be first. You can't go rushing into valiant battle in order to convince people of something if you don't know what they're convincing them of, and if we're going to create the greatest, most prosperous world order this world has ever known, we're going to have to do some planning first."He moved over towards the mirror, gesturing towards it as he continued.
"We must create a civilization that has all of the best aspects of the currently existing ones, and none of their failures."
The images in the mirror shifted, transforming into a clearer view specifically of the fairies of the trees.
"Behold. While these simple fairies live a happy life, they have no written records of any of their history. They simply rely on memory, and memory is fallible. Oral storytelling corrupts the truth, destroys facts, and creates a biased image of the world. We must be sure to record everything with absolute certainty!"
The mirror shifted again, this time changing to a view of the Bakaal going about their daily business with their stone tools. Picoceles scoffed as he looked down on them, a disdain audible in his tone that, if it were tangible, would have easily corroded even the strongest of materials down to nothing.
"These creatures are the very opposite of what we must achieve. They are what I loathe most in a civilization." he said, his voice turning to a low, intimidating growl. "Built by a spiteful god of war, they are primitive beasts who live in the stone age, and exist only to serve as a foil to their far superior neighbors. We seek to achieve a world of peace and prosperity, and create a technologically advanced civilization whose citizens live in luxury! Nothing like this backwards hellhole!" That last word had some vigor to it, and he would have spat had he possessed typical human biology. "Now, moving on..."
Another shift in the mirror, and the Ebrinada dynasty could now be clearly seen, specifically an image of their capital, and Picoceles seemed to brighten a bit.
"Their aforementioned neighbors are far better. If anything, they're quite a good role model for our upcoming civilization, though they're still not perfect, of course." he chuckled. "I quite like their system of royalty, and they're quite good at attempting to be sophisticated. Their technology is certainly advanced, especially considering the other civilizations of this world, though I think we can aspire for something even greater."
Yet another shift, and there was Theri's snow folk.
"As for these beings, there's really not much to be learned from them. They're barely even a civilization at all, and they're hardly a threat. They are not a very high priority."
One final shift, and the mirror's glass warped into a visage of Nathan's humans.
"And finally, the humans. They're better than the Bakaal, but only be virtue of not having been made with brutal intent. More interesting than the snow folk, at least, but not much we can learn that we haven't already discussed."
Then, the mirror changed back to the familiar ever-repeating vision that it had taken originally, before the start of this impromptu lesson.
"In short, we must make a technologically advanced, peaceful, and above all sophisticated monarchy. I propose as king..." Suddenly, he pointed a single finger at the lead Pican with blinding speed. "YOU! It is now your duty to interpret your words, and keep all of the rest of your kind safe, happy, and living in luxury. Do not fail me, or you shall reap the consequences of your actions. Anyhow..."
He looked around at the barren landscape of the mountain with displeasure.
"Now that we've figured out what we want to do with this civilization, we need to get to actually constructing it. We cannot simply have our capital be a barren rocky mountain. We must construct a city, a thriving metropolis from which our operations can be conducted."
It seemed the mirror wasn't done yet, as its glass transformed once more to show an image of Picoceles' mansion in the realm of the gods.
"This? This is the image of style! This is the architecture you should seek to create." he declared proudly. "Half of you, you shall venture out into the wide open lands of this world, and spread my word. The other half shall remain here, and carve this mountain into my image, supervised by the king. Does that sound like a plan?"
The world of the gods, Fountain of Creation
Picoceles tilted his head as he heard Cato speak to Theri, and moved towards the young goddess."Ah, greetings!" he said cordially. "So, you are Theri, creator of the snow people? You seem like quite a spirited young woman. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." His tone was polite, and while it didn't possess the subtle malice it had when he spoke to Nathan, there was definitely something off about it, though it was hard to tell exactly what.
Something's Fishy Here...
THE SLORG!
The South-Western ocean, (003.017) the present, just past noon, where a battle is finished.
The two sides of aquatic races clashed, the water dirtying with streaks of red. Strong, fierce Bakaal tried their best to smash into the ranks of the Ebrinada. Yet, the shark-like humanoids managed to hold, and cut down more than two of their eel-like opponents for each of their own that fell.
The battle was almost interrupted when a large fragment of the moon hit the surface above them. The thunderous impact reverberated through the battle, disorienting both sides for but a few moments. The Ebrinada captain shook her head to clear her senses, glancing upward at the drifting piece of crystal sinking down not far from the battle. "DO NOT BE DISTRACTED! FOCUS ON THE ENEMY!" she shouted, gritting her teeth.
In front of the Ebrinada captain, one of the Bakaal adorned with magic body paint roared and lunged for her. With a scowl, she tensed, then just before the Bakaal would impact, she stabbed her spear forward, into the Bakaal's path. There was a sickening squelch as the more primitive warrior impaled himself onto the spear, not immediately dying, but going into shock and dropping his weapons. The Ebrinada brought her foot up and pushed the Bakaal off of the spear, letting him drift away and towards the seabed. She let out a triumphant roar of her own, and looked back and forth at the battle around her, seeing that it was going in their favor. In fact, the Ebrinada had pretty much evened out the Bakaal's numerical advantage, and both sides seemed roughly the same size at that point.
"We're winning, men! Forward now! Push them back!" the Ebrinada captain yelled, and her soldiers joined up in formation and started to advance, finally going on the offensive against their opponents. For a bit, the Bakaal continued to try to fight valiantly, but they could not hold the Ebrinadas' advance. As that realization started to hit them, they finally broke, and swam fleeing away, to the North.
The Ebrinada soldiers let out a cheer, as the captain sighed and caught her breath. "Thank O'Keanu, it's over," she said, turning and frowning as she looked at the aftermath of the battlefield. "Start searching for any of our own who might still be alive, and kill any of their wounded you find," she ordered them, then motioned at a handful in particular with her spear. "You lot, come with me. We're going to see what that thing that fell in the water was."
So most of the remaining Ebrinada started to search among the bodies for anyone who was not yet dead, while the captain and a few swam towards the moon fragment to investigate it.
The entrance to Samauth's afterlife realm, (006.016) the present, just past noon.
Of course, over the duration of the battle, Uthvar would see that there seemed to be a little more Ebrinada and Bakaal souls than usual being drawn in to be taken to Valdash. Especially as they were strong figures in their prime, not sickly or at an age where they could be expected to die of fairly normal causes.
Rav'nixander's city body, (020.016) the present, just past noon.
The fairy looked a bit concerned, but also confused. "Oh, well um... Gee, we don't really deal with anything like that, so I'm not sure what to say," she responded, trying to sound sympathetic. "But I guess for any of the things we don't like that we can't actually do anything about, we um... Just avoid them? We do what we can to work around them, and don't worry ourselves about it, since worrying doesn't do anything to help," the fairy continued, though was clearly struggling in an attempt to just say something of possible help to the city god.
Picoceles' mountain, (013.007) the present, just past noon.
The Picans quieted down and listened with curious interest as Picoceles explained his ideas. They nodded in agreement as he explained the failings of the Faires. They looked at the images of the Bakaal with disapproval as he explained their savagery. They looked curiously at the images of the Ebrinadas' capital as he explained their relative sophistication. They looked dismissively at the images of the snow folk as he likewise explained that they were of little consequence. They also didn't seem to think much of the images of the humans, but nevertheless studied them as he explained their simplicity.
As Picoceles then declared the lead Pican to be the king, the king stood in mild surprise, then turned to look at his kin. They looked back with curious expectations, seemingly expecting much of him. He turned back around as Picoceles showed the images of his mansion, and explained his simple plan.
"Very well then, Picoceles," the king answered with a nod, and turned to his kin again, pointing the studded metal club down the middle of the crowd. "Those on the left of my weapon shall begin to travel the world! Those of the right shall remain here and begin work on our mighty kingdom!"
Dutifully, the half of the crowd on the king's left began to wander down the mountain, idly chattering with each other as they went. The half on the right looked around at the mountain, then at the weapons in their hands. "We have seen what we must strive towards!" the king yelled, motioning at the mirror and the images of Picoceles' mansion. "We must begin on grand halls, connecting our jails for those who oppose our harmony, to the rest of our magnificent constructions!"
The king then put a hand to his chin for a moment, before pointing at a nearby Pican woman. "You, observe the work with me, and prepare to make records of the glorious rise of our kind," he ordered her.
She looked at him and blinked, then bowed her head. "Very well," she muttered, and walked over to stand by his side. The other Picans began to use the blunt weapons as best they could to start excavating into the mountain, slowly but surely starting to carve out the pathways they intended to later build into enclosed halls.
You are reading this.
The Light That Blinds
Theri, Fountain of Creation
"Oh—erm, hello," Theri said, giving Picoceles a small wave. "[[pink:I won't be here long, I just need to see who else is here—here in the mortal world, I mean, a-and I haven't named the snow folk yet but..."
Blushing, she quickly turned her attention to the fountain. The Bakaal and Ebrinada...seemed like a bad idea to send anyone to. The forge might not have anyone but Galius, though Picoceles's people seemed promising (and close). Stella's theater might also be a good idea, Meowing's island was out in the ocean and she wasn't sure any of her people could swim, and there was a plethora of people out in the southern continent.
"I've seen what I need to," she said, bowing. "Um, thank you for your time."
And then she popped back out of existence.
Theri (011.066)
Pop.
"I'm back," she announced, and quickly filled the snow folk in on the other peoples of the world. "I don't recommend the Bakaal and Ebrinada," she said, once she was finished. "But everything else seems promising, if a bit far."
Murmurs rose up among the snow folk, but before a decision could be made, Theri said, "A-and if all of you could listen?"
They fell silent at that. Theri cleared her throat.
"If it's not too much trouble...I'd like to give your people the name of Hiverfolk."
"Kept me waiting, haven’t you? Tch. No matter. Dawdle all you’d like. In the end, your defeat remains inevitable."
The Perfect Organism
Valdash, Realm of the Dead
Samauth had been hard at work since the conversation at the fountain. He'd had to decline Cato's offer to meet other gods of death, fascinating as that was sure to be. As it was, his responsibility to the departed souls of Quedrands was already being put to a stress test. A veritable flood of animal souls had come down the river. Uthvar herself didn't seem to mind. Animals were always easier to deal with than the sometimes stubborn sapient races. Skeletal menials dashed this way and that, herding the creatures onward to peaceful afterlives, where their tiny souls would not take long to be cleansed before being cast back for rebirth.
The animal deaths seemed to be the result of a series of natural and unnatural disasters related to another god, Arcellex. It didn't seem to be part of a pattern, yet. Samauth was still unsure of the rules to this new place. Such direct action on that scale would have set his siblings bickering amongst themselves, surely.
The sudden influx of Ebrinada and Bakaal souls proved to be something exhaustingly familiar. Untimely deaths, the lot of them. The individuals were mostly young, strong, proud... soldiers. They seemed lost here, their spectral forms taking in the relatively alien surroundings of Valdash's initial processing. Each soul was followed by a bat-winged eyeball, their own personal Seer. Drawn inexorably before the statue-like Overseers, each soul would watch as their Seer flew into the empty eye socket of the Overseer. Knowing all the Seer had beheld, the Overseer would pass judgment.
Aware of them all as extensions of himself, Samauth learned of the conflict in the sea, not far from his own fortress. The Ebrinada seemed to mostly be defending themselves in this skirmish. Most of them would go on to what each individual would consider a peaceful rest. Some, of course, would bear sins unrelated to their cause of death and bear varying degrees of punishment for them. The Bakaal, on the other hand... Samauth saw how they laid in wait, springing an ambush in senseless aggression. Others fought to avenge those that failed and died, but revenge was far from a noble cause in Samauth's eye. The fiery pits of Valdash's depths would smell of cooked eel for some time.
Realm of the Gods, just outside the fragment of Valdash
Some time in the last few days, a large headstone would emerge from the cloudy floor. Decorated rather gaudily with skeletal imagery, the grave marker seemed to advertise the service of personally crafted afterlives for the mortal followers of the gods. Included were instructions to knock upon the stone once to speak with Samauth in the Realm of the Gods, or twice to be transported to a private chamber of Valdash, for privacy. Requests and details to be granted or refused at the discretion of the God of Death.
Higher beings, these words are for you alone.
Druid Dude
Nathan Munsen
016.016
Nathan watched from afar in the guise of a shepherd. The humans were proceeding along rather nicely. He could see that, with glimpses of his Guides here and there, that they were slowly rising. With the rise of pyromancy, the general instability of the power ensured that only the strong survived. That, Nathan didn't mind too much. He watched as some poor souls, emancipated, crispy, floated away from their bodies. "Things are coming along nicely." he hums as he willed the souls to him. He watched as they restlessly turned in his hands, and he started humming. "The flame is the soul's breath... he whispers and the souls disappear into Civilization.
These humans were rather primitive. he thought to himself. Well, this is a natural start. Soon they'll be finding new applications and heights. he watches some barely-clothed humans cooking some animal, chatting animatedly. He also watches as two quarreling youths fight, a display of ferocity and flame alike. Soon, they shall be ready to conquer. When will that age be, I wonder...? he yawns.
With that, he decides to scout the competition. He begins looking at the other races, watching Theri's Hiverfolk with a smile, watched the Ebrinada and Bakaal with a hum, and finally, his eye landed on the Picans. "Hey, nice creations, Pico, shame we'll probably come to blows later." he laughs to himself.
Edited by Jules-Firenze on Oct 21st 2023 at 11:20:20 PM
You piss off the Venom T-Rex. Roll initiative.
Fwomph
20.16, The City-Body
"I. I don't know if I can. Little one. It gnaws at the heart of me to know..."
The shell of metal and masonry peers again at the continued observation. Cato, deliverer of truths that tore at the very fibers of Rav'nixander's moral core, was still watching in his usual way.
"Do your kind make works. Little one? Art and advancement and politic..."
It's clearly a case of backroom political albumizing.
THE SLORG!
Theri's tundra, (011.006) present, just past noon before the skip.
The snowfolk looked amongst each other and nodded, then looked back at Theri. "Hiverfolk it is," Noel agreed, mostly neutral looking as usual, but seemed pleased. The rest of them more clearly expressed the excitement that was more muted on Noel.
"Come, those Picans are not that far away. It would be those mountains there, if I'm not mistaken," one of the Pican men said, pointing to the mountains which were indeed visible in the far distance of the South East. With the sun high in the sky at the moment, they could even see some of the glint off the peak where some of the summit had been turned to a silver like substance. He and about a dozen of the other Hiverfolk began to travel that way, after saying their goodbyes to their fellow kin...
Rav'nixander's city body, (020.016) just past noon before the skip.
"Um... Not really? We help plants grow sometimes, and some of us hollow out acorns or something to use to carry stuff, but that's about it," the fairy answered, with an apologetic shrug and shake of her head.
Half a year later, local Quedrands time, mid afternoon.
World of the gods, Fountain of Creation pavilion.
The transparent image of the Quedrands was now beginning to circle farther from the pavilion, but was still easily visible from the edge of the pavilion. Eventually it would wander out into the sky, leaving the pavilion behind, but there was no telling exactly how long that would be.
As usual, Cato was at the pavilion, and as usual, was currently watching the mortal world. As he observed, his face took on a slight frown. "Hmm, I see what you are doing there Galius," Cato muttered to himself, slowly raising a hand, palm up, until it was near his face. "I will not stop you, but I will do something..."
After a few moments, there was a shimmering in Cato's palm, and one of his geometric bees appeared. It was not one of the queens, just a worker, though was of the same type as those he had already sent to the Quedrands, appearing like a cross between a bee and a black spider. Cato whispered something to the bee, who gave a little buzz in response, then turned invisible once more. With a wave of his hand, Cato sent the bee back to the Quedrands, with a new, simple mission...
Central Quedrands jungles, (015.012, 016.013, 017.012) mid afternoon.
Indeed, the ichor spread unopposed, and soon a larger swath of jungle was being dominated by the plants that took it in their roots, and the animals that ate from those plants.
Galius' forge, (012.004) mid afternoon.
Indeed, as a master of his craft, Galius upgraded his forge with the chunk of crystal. With the advantages of both the crystal, and the power of the geyser fueling it, his capacity for the creation of artifacts at his forge was exceeding even that of any of his previous forges, barring perhaps those at his personal realm. It was without any doubt second to none on this mortal world, and probably always would be, unless destroyed.
Even so, the process took time, especially to perfect the intended purpose of the spindle. It took over sixty days, almost half of a Quedrands' year, but finally, it was done...
Theri's Hiverfolk, (011.006) mid afternoon.
The dozen Hiverfolk left towards the mountains, and were gone for weeks before they returned. When they did though, they did with great smiles on their faces, and were not alone. An entourage of Picans had joined them, bringing gifts to further cement the blossoming friendship between the two races. For indeed, not only had the Hiverfolk found the Picans, but their interactions had proved quite positive.
They were told of the Picans' growing and expanding palace on the mountain summit, with its expansive and elaborate halls of carved stone, decorated with intricate lines of gold. The traveling Hiverfolk had spent a week there, and they and the Picans joining them spent a few days back at the tundra before they prepared to leave again. It seemed their intention was to head South, perhaps stop at Stella's theater, then cross the central sea and make way towards the humans in the South East.
There was also something else happening however. One of the Hiverfolk who had stayed, a man who had decided to go by Miklav, had been growing increasingly restless. He had spent days at a time at the crystal shard from the moon, trying to absorb more power, without even stopping to rest or eat. Finally on this day, Noel and a couple of other Hiverfolk decided to go speak with him.
"Miklav, please, isn't that enough?" Noel asked, stopping several paces away.
"No... No, there must be more," Miklav answered, without turning to look at them.
"More for what, Miklav?" one of the other Hiverfolk, named Caden asked, walking closer to him.
"Don't you see? There will come a day when Theri is not here for us anymore, and we must be ready when that time comes. Ready to face the things we don't yet know of," Miklav explained, clenching his fingers against the crystal. "But this blasted thing... I can't seem to absorb more from it," he muttered.
"Then come, Miklav. There are better things you can do with your time than keep trying this," Noel said, trying to reason with him.
"No! I must have more power!" Miklav yelled, shaking his head. Caden was near him by then, and reached to grab his shoulder.
"Come on, Miklav-"
"No!" Miklav shouted more forcefully, turning and yanking away from Caden. Caden tried again to grab him, but it turned into a struggle, with both of the Hiverfolk wrestling their arms against each other. "Do not try to stop me!" Miklav continued, grabbing a hand onto Caden's chest, as magic started to surge.
"W-what are you, doing?" Caden struggled to say, becoming quieter, like he was out of breath.
"I will have more power one way or another!" Miklav answered with a scowl, and continued trying to absorb magic from Caden, like he had been doing with the crystal shard.
Caden let out a weak scream that turned into a gurgle, as his skin, then organs and bones all turned to slush and water, falling to the ground with a splat. Miklav looked surprised. For the first time, Noel's mostly neutral demeanor was gone, as they looked at Miklav in utter shock and horror.
"What have you done?!" Noel yelled. Miklav stared towards the mush for another moment, then looked up at Noel and the other Hiverfolk, who likewise looked horrified. Noel then scowled, and brought their hands up, sending a wave of icicles towards Miklav. Miklav however easily raised a barrier of snow to protect himself, then started to wrap himself in a cloak of snow, intending to teleport to somewhere far away.
Unseen by any of the Hiverfolk, Caden's soul started to drift up into the air and South West, off towards Samauth's fortress at the other side of the world.
The Ebrinada capital, (005.019) mid afternoon.
Tensions continued to rise over the weeks, as Hasso's forces stood firm in their demands, and Queen Voight's attempts to find a peaceful solution were going nowhere. Finally, Hasso and his officers made their plans, knowing they could not wait forever. Their strategy was to breach the capital's defenses and quickly take over the palace, hoping that would force the loyalists to stand down, or at least act as a defensible position against a counterattack.
... However, the defenders proved to be more prepared for Hasso's forces than they expected. Not only did their attack stall at the edges of the capital, but a loyalist soldier named Kassandros, with a banner of O'Keanu mounted on his back, had started to tear into Hasso's forces in a seemingly unstoppable show of force. Between Kassandros and the other organized defenders, and the reluctance of Hasso's men to fight their own kin, their battle line was quickly breaking.
"Rally, men! Rally! We must push forward!" one of Hasso's officers was yelling, as Hasso himself stared at the battle that was turning into a rout.
Hasso looked up slightly, trembling as he noticed movement approaching the defenders' line from behind them. Enemy reinforcements were already arriving. "No! Retreat!" Hasso yelled, motioning an arm towards his officer. "Back to the kelp forest! Now! Get the phalanxes to cover the center as we fall back!"
Hasso made a valiant effort to try to at least make it an organized retreat, but his men were in a near panic. Kassandros and a force of the loyalist defenders swam up from their positions and prepared to chase after, but they heard a yell from the front of the reinforcements behind them. "Hold your positions!"
It was Queen Voight, at the front of a force of loyalist spearmen, all prominently displaying the symbol of O'Keanu.
"But they're getting away!" Kassandros said, motioning at their retreating foes.
"Yes, to waters they still control, and would make us suffer terrible losses to charge into blindly," Queen Voight responded in a displeased tone, swimming up and looking towards Hasso's retreating forces. There was a moment where she and Hasso spotted each other, both pausing as they stared at each other from across the battlefield. With a frown, Hasso turned and swam away, following his men. Queen Voight's shoulders slumped slightly, and she sighed, then looked at the battlefield, to see how it had gone.
In the end, just over a hundred of Hasso's soldiers were dead, and only about a tenth of the loyalists had fallen. Unseen by the Ebrinada, their souls drifted up out of the ocean, then Northward, off towards Samauth's fortress...
Elsewhere in the Southern ocean, during the interim.
Having won their initial skirmish with the Bakaal, the Ebrinada laid claim to the fallen crystal from the moon, and the waters around it. In the weeks afterward, as they attempted to learn what use the crystal could be, the Bakaal had made a few token attempts to retaliate, but were easily beaten back every time.
Yet the Ebrinada were not the only ones expanding, as the Bakaal did so themselves, claiming the rest of the deep trench that was their home, as well as a coral reef off the shore of a great volcano. The Bakaal also did what they could to innovate and copy the technology of their shark-like foes; unfortunately they couldn't quite figure out the same magic forging process that the Ebrinada used to work coral, but the Bakaal were at least figuring out how to make crude spears and shields, which was an improvement over the clubs they had been wielding. They were also seeing what they could do with the substances made by volcanic runoff into the ocean, which intrigued them. Every day, Bakaal were swimming up to the shore, occasionally staring up at the death god's fortress above, not knowing what it was they were looking at.
The Bakaal society was starting to take a distinct, yet brutal shape. They had fully embraced the idea of Might Makes Right, making a system where the strong took as they pleased from the weak. The strongest became chieftains, followed by cadres of warriors; except for the shamans who had proved themselves useful, those who could not fight suffered under the cruelty of chieftains and warriors who cared only for themselves.
Nathan's humans, (016.016 and 017.015) during the interim.
Under Nathan's hands off guidance, and with their fire magic, the humans had quickly learned the basics of smelting metal, and expanded to claim the hills to their North East in search of ores.
A strict and terrible caste system had developed, where those who could use pyromancy were at the top. The families of the pyromancers were below them, enjoying some privilege, but were still worse off than the pyromancers. Everyone else was at the bottom, effectively just slaves.
Rav'nixander's city body, (020.016) mid afternoon.
There was the faintest of shimmers in the air, small and nearly unnoticeable, which traveled through the sky and landed on the head of Rav'nixander's city body. Cato's bee, otherwise still invisible and hard to detect even for gods, whispered to the god of mortal works. The bee told it of the artifact that had been forged at the North edge of the world, and how it was Ilkar, god of war, who had commissioned its creation.
"Direct conflict between one god and another serves nothing, and should be avoided, but that does not mean steps cannot be taken," the bee finished, buzzing her little wings. "We will continue observing, and will inform you of what is done with the spindle."
Edited by FirockFinion on Oct 25th 2023 at 6:37:50 AM
You are reading this.
Fwomph
20.16, The City-Body
Again, Rav'nixander prayed to its maker to harden its core against the blows of these other gods. An unconscionable artifact had been made, an inducer of purposeless war by a short-sighted god who sought only to expand an unconstructive domain.
"The artifact will be confiscated. Before it can be used."
Hissing steam, creaking metal shaking flakes of rust. The City-Body had been still for too long, but now there was reason to move it. With all the weight of its titanic frame its arms both as one swung backwards, plunged into the waters of the inland sea and supported the weight as the legless torso raised up and over to plunge down north of where the arms were planted. And then, the arms raised from the water, swung over its head and came crashing back down again.
The City-Body had begun its march northwards. Within, divine autofoundries began to perform initialization sequences; Eventually servitors would be required to execute this act of peacekeeping...
Edited by Pentigan on Oct 25th 2023 at 11:23:51 PM
It's clearly a case of backroom political albumizing.
The World of the Gods, Fountain of Creation Pavilion (4 days before present)
"I find your viewpoint alarmingly naive," Samauth dryly responded to Rav'nixander. "A great many mortals harbor evil desires in their hearts. And many of them will die sinless, their fear of my sentencing staying their destructive impulses. Still more carry on living good lives, living at all even, because they know that wicked souls will not escape my judgment."
The skeletal god shook his head as he carried on, the flame of his eye beginning to cast blue sparks. "You would have me, what? Upend the whole of it? Without consequences mortals fall back into their basic instincts, slaking whatever primal hunger takes them. Gluttony, lust, pointless wrath all at the expense of whoever they can exert power over."
Samauth's flame dimmed and he then sounded almost tired. "Cruelty is the mortals' only common language. If fearing me curbs that, then let them fear me. What alternative would you propose?"
Higher beings, these words are for you alone.