Deification (IC)(Mature)

[AmberCross]

Oh boy, Zaltan had started lecturing. It had been so long since Zaltan was last active Aellor forgot he tended to do that. And worse, everyone else seemed to decide it was suddenly the time for their own lectures and inspirational speeches. Quickly losing interest, the god of storms turned his attention to other matters. A bit ago, some event had tugged at his attention, a feeling of something that should not be for all that he could not see the cause of it. There was still the matter of the sun to consider, several plans to fix the broken sky wheeled through him as he considered which to persue, which had the best outcomes and which were actually possible. He had a feeling Tezkatl would want to have a part in this as well, after all... the old sun HAD been his consort. And he deemed it was high time he took a more active look into his worshipers. Masota's point had struck true... he really did not well understand these things that gave him strength. Perhaps he could do something about that...



The mists had failed. Even the purpose behind the mists had failed. Aellor would have been shocked at how difficult something that had once come so easily to him had become if it weren't for the other signs he had already seen. He should have known the mists would not work, but sometimes momentum bids one to try anyway. Passing by his people unseen, he saw sparks of the wonder he once loved them for, but it lacked the muster and vitality they once had. He did not really know how to help them though. He recalled that people needed food, but with the return of the Chimera and the rise of the new Wavemaster that would no longer be a problem for them. He knew they could weaken if it was too cold or too warm without shelter or clothing, but he regulated the weather of his island so they would not want for that either. How then could he strengthen their belief in him? He would need to ask one of the other gods who more understood humans... Masota would know, or perhaps cast part of himself in their guise to find out.



Back in the divine realm, Aellor considered his options and collapsed them one by one until he had decided on his path. It would be dangerous and he was not yet sure it would work, but of his options it was the best he could manage. He would take the dead sun in the sky left behind, that dead symbol of their defeat and despair, and rekindle it with the rage, stubbornness, tenacity, and martial flame of the goddess of war who still fought fate mixed with the shining light, guidance, optimism, and... well... hope of Hope who refused to accept defeat leaving herself in the path of harm in order to save those who could not save themselves. The fires of war and the beacon of hope would reforge the sun and remake in anew into a symbol of renewel and hope, harder to kill than before. Furthermore, if Aellor did this correctly, the sight of the restored sun would inspire faith that would strengthen all of the gods involved in its creation, especially War and Hope who could make much use of the faith it would generate. Perhaps if he was lucky, he would find strength in this sun as well.

It would be dangerous to contact them as both lay perilously close to the king who had smote him down before. Still, though weakened, he could probably survive another defeat at his hands if it meant succeeding in saving the remnants of the sun. So shortly before the arrival of the foreign god, he split what remained of himself into two halves, leaving behind only what he needed to. Each half went out to one of the two goddesses holding back the tide of the godking's progress and explained his plan to them, asking for their favor.

[Kafzeil]

Kumbha allowed Allow to continue his barrage of insults. Truth be told, the Keeper of the Waves found it...fascinating. The embodiment of Chaos had earned a grudging sort of respect from Kumbha.  For the moment at least.

He ignored Horiv. He expected such drivel to spoken from a God whom didn't even have the gall to take on a form of creature better suited as throw rug in his Palace then something of actual grace and beauty. Crude, filthy, dirty, just like his domain.  Why couldn't at least some of the others have a sense of style?

Kumbha glanced at his rings, a sign of his weakened power. Tarnished, the jewels broken and dull, his finery was also frayed at several points. Still, he was at least the sharpest dress deity here.

Perhaps when some of my power is restored I should ad a cape to my appearance.

Masato and Gys only irritated him. A deity of luck had little right to chide anyone. And Gys... he was used to such snobbery.

"Listen, Beast God. I need not prove anything to you. Since you so clearly could not not stop the usurper anymore then anyone else here, you have no right.  That beast was also forged in my father's seas. MY Kingdom. It was his idea, and therefore, MY inheritance. But I shall accept you challenge, if only to rub it your face just how obsolete you are."

He nodded at the Judge. "If the King sends a Navy to our remaining followers...they will be met with only a watery grave. This much I promise, Jerrel."

*******

On the shores of his newly claimed Island, Kumbha's Avatar emerged from the sea, making it's way inland to find the local tribe's Oracle and forge a connection between the two.

[Arcalane]

Astral-Deity-Shenanigan Plane

With only the barest of warnings, a pair of large reinforced doors SLAMMED open, barely staying on their hinges. Such was Tharsus' smoldering fury as he strode into the gathering hall.

And oh what a sight he was. The normally clean and flawless Tharsus had taken a few more hits than he thought during the final battle, his armour cracked and fractured in places, though slowly restoring itself. The spellbook at his side was looking a little ragged, and his sword was still caked with blood... at least one god's among them.

My gravest apologies for my delayed arrival, the battered warrior rumbled, Fools tried to support the King, for mercy, and to usurp my domains. They are no more. Who else survives?

Heavy boots thudded as he crossed the room, collapsing into an oversized chair to recover from the battle and clean his blade. The fire-god glanced up momentarily, and surveyed the assembled survivors.

All I know is that I was the last to leave the battlefields, though more may yet arrive. I see we seem to have landed ourselves in quite a situation. What next, then?

While Tharsus awaited an answer, he continued the cleaning, occasionally grumbling to himself about lost Arch-Lieutenants.



The Mortal Realm - Sanctuary

Tharsus had likewise collapsed into the throne in his study-room. His Arch-Lieutenant Overseer arrived within a split second, awaiting his command.

Find any that still live on the island. They have a leader, a Lieutenant. Guide them to the lowlands, away from the Anchor. Time is of the essence if I am to have any remaining worshippers.

Without a word of response, the Overseer nodded and vanished in a burst of fire, just as he had arrived.



The Mortal Realm - Caves

"For the last time, you fools! We have to leave these caves! There is no food for us here, the Anchor is not safe for any of you!" The Lieutenant gestured out of anger, but the villagers would not listen. Replies came - there was no food outside, no safe passage... then they were cut off by a gasp from one near the front.

The Overseer had silently appeared from the rock face behind the Lieutenant. Calmly placing one hand on the Lieutenant's shoulder, it spoke;

"Listen to the young master. Master Tharsus would not have you sacrifice yourselves to him like this. Go now, to the lowlands. The soil there is fertile, and the ground is stable. Build houses and tools of stone to work the land to survive. Master Tharsus requires this of you. Now go."

The villagers could hardly refuse a direct order from such a power, and quickly began packing their belongings for the trip. During that time, the Overseer lead the Lieutenant aside.

"Master Tharsus has returned, but with grave news. The King of Gods attempted to overthrow them. Many are wounded, and many more are dead. Tharsus survives, but He needs time to recover. Tend to the villagers, and I shall tend to the Master. Understood?"

"Of course, sir... but how should we leave the mountain?"

The Overseer passed the Lieutenant a scroll, "This scroll is a map, with a safe path that will lead you and the survivors to the lowlands. Supplies for building should be plentiful. The land may need taming. Your first priority is to assemble shelter and farmlands. Once this is done, call for me, and I shall instruct you in the creation of the Monoliths, that we may restore Master Tharsus' power."

The Lieutenant made a sharp salute and took the scroll, "I understand, Overseer. I shall carry out these commands immediately."

"Good. Now go. The villagers require your guidance to the lowlands. The corruption will fade from them in time. Lead on!"

The Overseer bowed, then stepped back into the rock face. Almost seeming to meld with it, the Overseer returned to the Sanctuary, leaving the Lieutenant to his orders.

[VAE]

Isle of Cats, mortal realm

As the wooden statue resembling a large cat stood erect over the village, Horiv felt a surge in power... well.. more like a tax return, really, but it was still better than his previous situation.
Mushrooms continued to flourish in the pale light somewhat reminiscent of his own realm in the depths, and what's more, thanks to his careful influence, first plants with leaves of curious structure began to grow near the fissures and craters, feeding on the infra-red light emitted by the hot rock, and beginning to bear first fleshy tubers into the charred soil around.

Meanwhile , the village cat approached Ivan yet again, with another telepathic message.
Ivan... the explanation your people seek follows: The man has died because he was old - whether old people die not in time of war? The Goddess of Medicine is dead and as of now, the exact reason is obscured even to me. Go however, and ask your people thusly: Is it better to take on a small risk and live, feeding on fruits of the earth you know little about, or stay cautious and certainly starve? Even in the times past, your hunters always stood a chance of being gored by their prey, yet they had to obtain food!  As for you ... the living gods have called together a council and will try to bring the sun back.. in the meantime my power has infused more plants to live in these wretched conditions, ones that soon shall bear their fruit.
Go in my name now and don't despair, for if your people endure, they shall reap great rewards.


The underworld

The Watcher of Souls visited even his own domain, the first time in  days now he has paid it any attention.
At first he noticed the spirit of the sea god of old.
With a snerk, the massive feline spoke
Welcome to my domain, lord of the seas.... In ages past when our battles were at their peak i wished for this outcome many times.. yet the manner in which it has occured makes me no happer.....
Ah well... who'd have said having offspring can be so bad for one's health?
But toying with dead gods wasn't so much his intent... The feline deity began to seek the soul of the old man that has passed away, intent on finding out how exactly has he died from his own words... it might help and the Giver of Harvest certainly couldn't afford his flimsy population of followers to reap death...


Divine boardroom

The one who prowls the depths looked curiously as the messenger-turned-god of the seas claimed to tame the leviathan.... this was surely going to be an amusing watch.
In the meantime, several more gods have manifested themselves.
Horiv looked around for a moment, and then remarked:
"As a killer, the God-King's skill leaves much to be desired.... there is even more of us than at the last meeting before the Treason, or so it seems... And for one, Masuta is right... at our current state we can barely muster enough power to set things to work in our own homes, much less to wander about other islands."
He looked at Kumbha once again.
"That said, however, i promise that earth shall swallow every enemy soldier that manages to live through the *challenges* set to them by our wet friend here... in other words, every enemy soldier except for those born crippled"
The lynx god began to flap his tail contently.

[Dr. Hatari]

The Astral plane

Gys slowly grapples with the plights and rebukes of the other deities. This is all a lot more intrigue and quarrel than he has ever been exposed to. He seems fixated on Jerrel's talk of strategy when Masota's irreverent teasing causes him to bristle once more. A snit from the Sea's progeny – that was completely expected. But this care-free attitude! Such.. child-like indifference in the face of apocalypse. Towards the fresh graves of their kin, and the open ones yet waiting! What an annoying ... squirrel!

An animated vine surges out of the Chimera's cloak and whips back, as though readying to crack at the Siren's roost in retribution - but the beast hesitates. His posture slowly decays while remembering Zaltan's words. They really were wasting time and breath in here, chasing the obvious and spitting insults at each other. Other deities, of all things. If they could not master themselves and establish some sort of camaraderie and infrastructure, this counter-attack would be over before it began.

"... Hrrrmmmmm ..." The leafy tendril recedes while a subdued growl lingers at the back of Gys' throat. The Chimera was unused to such entitled company. This was precisely the sort of thing which had driven him to hide away in the world of men for eons at a time. Gods had bickered and butted heads since the dawn of Life. Atleast mortals could form---

Gys' tapped one of his sharp legs upon the floor. The hooded god looked up, as though struck by something. "... Sister. Your words have inspired an idea in me." He seems to reflect on that briefly. "..How fortuitous."

Gys notes the new arrivals and projects his creaky whisper a bit more. "..Most of you are ailing, in some way or another, from want or woe. ..There was a time when I could fill your lands with cattle and grass, multiply your followers a hundred-fold, and gift them with the vigor to beat back illness. ... Would that I could balm your realms at a whim, as in days past - we Gods would be all the stronger for it. Sadly, that simply cannot be. My influence has been trapped back on Airen-Rae. Zaltan was quite right. Our reach has shrunk, and ability to meddle past our own borders has all but vanished. So, ..." he whispers in a nearly sinister tone, "..I propose symbiosis. Why isolate ourselves to one choice, when we can both aid and grow..?"

"My realm has little want for energy or health. Indeed, I have plenty to share." Gys' hood pivots to the divining pool, wherein the image of his village's crowded grave site comes into view. "... What we do not have, is the space or safety to cultivate human life. My offer is thus; should any of your people cry to you for blessings that I can provide, know that I will give them. But to do so, you will have to teach them my rite. A humble pock, filled with bones and flame, into which they need shed only a single drop of blood. Lend me this bridge, this paltry gesture of devotion, and through it I will give your realms succor."    

The Verdant Lord's attention finally returns to Jerrel. He speaks with soft reverence. "..Since Medicine is dead.. we shall have to find some way to assimilate her domain into one of us, or my plagues will never have cures. I have not the strength to re-tame them. ... Not yet. But even they are living things, and thus can fall to strength alone. For now, that shall have to do." He looks to Zaltan. "..Perhaps you and I could accomplish that, some day. Medicine often took from me aloe and roots, but I have not the knowledge to use them like she."

"It will be some time before I can presume to be of any value in a war. Until then, the most I can do is bolster our numbers. But!" the monster spits, "when our strength has returned – when the time for the final war is nigh – WOE be unto any who must face the beasts I can bring to bare." Gys looks away and grows placid again. "..Should such a time ever come, that is."

[Tezkat]

Tezkatl continues to prowl the edges of the heavens, searching for his lost kin. His son had never been much of a people person. Even before the Betrayal, it seemed they rarely spoke save to deliver prophetic visions to mortals of some import. But he keenly feels the void left behind when Ainos disappeared from the world. Time dispersed into the cosmos, bound to the forces of nature. A noble act, certainly, but it means no body to collect, no soul to deliver. The great cat scours the cosmos for any fragments left behind. As he told the Watcher of Souls, he cannot just remake his child, but he needs to find something to hold on to... something to grasp in his paws.

The cold, dead sun hangs in the sky. He has been avoiding this particular task. The veil of clouds serves as an appropriate enough funeral shroud, after all. But if the world is to survive, the sun must be reborn, even if it takes the power of all the gods. As his followers make their way to the earthly lands of the Sun, it becomes imperative to collect her heavenly remains. He parts the curtain of mist to gaze upon his lost partner once more.

+ + +

The Watcher on the Threshold perks up an ear as another new face enters the room. The second new god of the day. This one bears a strange scent, foreign to the universe you know. He stands and offers a formal, if curt bow.

"Welcome, stranger. You join us at the dawn of a dark age of disaster and betrayal. The Forge ushered in a golden age for mortal civilization. Grown fat on their praise, he styled himself King of the Gods. But the crown did not slake his thirst for power, for he did not wish to share the world. And so he betrayed and slaughtered our brethren. Even now the world reels from their loss. As life-giving Sun grows cold, crops wither. Amid dead Forest, game grows scarce. Absent Medicine, plagues spread like wildfire. Without Love, families fall apart."

He hops down from his perch and circles the room like a cat stalking prey.

"And what does the Bronze King do whilst we lick our wounds and bemoan lost power? He has conquered a dying world."  You each feel his gaze in turn. "How much power have each of you expended to keep mere villages fed and healthy? He must fill granaries and larders of entire cities wracked by famine and disease. He smites rebellious townships whole. Even now he patrols his lands, too worried of my influence to permit delivery of souls. What of his plans, then? Will he forge new followers in those great smithies of his? If he does not act to repair the world he destroyed, his worshippers will dwindle to nothing in a generation, and he will grow weaker than we are. And so he will act. A tyrant and a madman he may be, but he never lacked for cunning. Will we be ready?"

[Previewer]

In the vicinity of the dead Sun

As Tezkatl gazes at the now dead Sun, the effort and will of his search for his kin calls out to the fragments of Ainos that remain bound to the timeline. A familiar presence begins to coalesce in the vicinity of the dead Sun and the Lord of the Night.

"Time has awakened." Addressing Tezkatl, "My gratitude for my return to existence."

After a moment's hesitation, Ainos adds respectfully, "Father."

"The events of the past are returning to me slowly, but surely. I must also see to it that the order of time has been maintained in my absence."

A wave of shock and surprise emanates from Ainos as he becomes aware of the death of the Sun. "The Sun is dead," he states softly before settling closer to Tezkatl and likewise gazing at the now dead Sun.

**********

Divine Realm

A part of Ainos takes form where most of the other gods have congregated and he makes his presence felt.

"The Flow of Time has returned. Before I fell, I scattered my essence to ensure the orderly flow of time. It has held in my absence as you all have no doubt sensed, but now with my return I feel that hold beginning to weaken."

"While I would not discount allowing the Betrayer King to assume my role if it would preserve the order of time, the mysteries of time are beyond mortal comprehension. Even empowered as he is, that King cannot fathom the entirety of the timeline and all its consequences. As such, his continued existence is a threat to myself and therefore my function and the timeline."

"I am aware of the suggestion and plans that have been made in the moments past. I am inclined to agree with the gods who have suggested we consolidate our own bases of power first and foremost. I must also state that I have no objection to cooperation with other deities in the aspects of our domains that are not direct antagonists."

"On the issue of the ascension of the new Keeper of the Waves, I believe he brings more strength to fill this domain than would the previous Keeper. I would judge him solely on how he fills this role, not on the events that preceded it. Time brings change, and even we are not immune."

Addressing Jerrel specifically, "I am flattered you remember my capability to twist the timeline, but in this state I am barely holding linear time together as it is. Although I generally on principle do not condone such an action, I do believe that this instance does warrant such action. However, it is unlikely that I will be able to pull off such a feat till long after the fall of the Betrayer King."

"Finally, the issue of the creation of a new sun. I believe that is a matter of great import, with respect to the continued livelihood of our mortals and the continuation of mortal life itself. It is no small undertaking and a careful and united effort would be best. We might even be able to wield it to diminish the influence of the Betrayer King."

With those words, Ainos settles back into a silent presence.

[Arcalane]

Astral Deity Safehouse

Tharsus rumbled with thought as he listened, the fire-god's temper slowly cooling and subsiding. It would do him no good to be angered now. First things first, however.

He makes an amused-sounding, faintly rumbling laugh at Tezkatl. "Are you so lost in the aftermath of the Betrayal that you would forget the Master of Fire, Old One? Had I less patience, I would be insulted. But I am merely amused. Times are hard for all of us, after all..." Tharsus' voice deepens and returns to it's usual serious tone as he returns to more formal matters.

"I am afraid there is perhaps little I can offer to your followers, for all mortals already know well the gift of fire, even yours... though I may be fit enough to lend some of that fire to the creation of a new Sun, that they may burn all the brighter for the new dawn," Tharsus intones respectfully, then continues. "As I draw the majority of my power from the dormant volcano on my island rather than sheer number of worshippers, I feel may be the strongest here, for the present. Yet the volcano is old, and I will need time to rekindle the fire in it's heart if I am to truly recover and be prepared for our counterattack, on top of caring for my... misguided followers."

Even now, his armoured form is making good progress on it's self-repairs.

"Hmmm... perhaps I might be able to share what knowledge I have gained in the fields of war and the arcane. The Arcane Arts of Mortals are no match for Our powers, but they are a powerful tool in their own right, and formidable in the right hands. With sufficient training, a mortal could easily match one of my own Lieutenants, and perhaps even an Arch-Lieutenant," he idly pats the book at his side, looking thoughtful again. Or at least as thoughtful as a featureless armour-clad humanoid can look. It's more like he radiates an aura of thoughtfulness... something like that, anyway. "My understanding of battle is not as infinitely thorough as Sister War's, but even a few steps in the right direction are better than none at all. We will need mortal warriors to support our efforts when the time comes, make no mistake of that."

"Still, I agree. If we are to reward the Traitor as he deserves, then we should pool our powers as best we can. If I can yet stir the volcano's heart, the properties of ash for farmland improvement are well-proven. I do not think I need to explain the implications for you, though I can make no promises as to when such might occur."

With that, Tharsus finishes the cleaning, and lays the Tharsian Blade across the arms of his chair, observing the other gods.

[Inumo]

The idea came to me from nowhere. Had I not known that Inspiration was likely dead, I would think that she had given me a blessing. Nonetheless, I knew what I could do. Swooping down to my most devout, I whispered in their ear. "Though you may not know," I began, "there is uproar in the higher planes. Many of us have lost our followers to a terrible god, and we now plan our revenge. We must do our part to aid their return to power. Gather those who have yet to find their best devotion and set them to sneaking and sparring. We shall use fear to empower our allies, and in return empower me through their devotion. Follow these orders, and we shall succeed." When they had given their assent, I slipped away from the mortal plane. It was time to prove the capabilities of devotion.

[VAE]

Divine Realm

The words that Tharsus has spoken  caught notable interest from Horiv.
One who prowls the depths sat on his  hind legs and his eyes glowed with a spark of interest, staring at the towering, armoured form before him.

"I suppose I can attempt to increase the pyroclastic flows within the volcano's depths, providing you with more power... since they are mindless for the most part i won't even ask for the minds of your followers.... all i ask in return is that you allow me to roam freely on your island, and that those you command bury their dead and their refuse deep into the soil so that i can grow strong from it."
The feline continued to watch his every movement, and awaited a decision.

[Cogidubnus]

MORTAL REALM:

Oshye looked upon the realm that he now called his home - a scant few people who called themselves a tribe, in a world that they no longer understood. The sun above them dimmed to darkness, with now only the moon to light their lives. The land itself rebelled from this reversal - his people cried out for his aid. His heart wrenched, and the fire in his eyes smouldered.
The Bronze King would pay. From these scant ashes, Oshye would mix a bitter drink for him.

He began to search, and it was not long before he found what he sought.

A young girl cried alone in the darkness of the caves in the mountain - her mother, dead of starvation, her father and brother missing still in the deep darkness of the Island's jungle. Her body was emaciated, her ribs and back prominently displayed.

Oshye found a rock, and sat down. He waited for a pause in her tears.

"Why do you cry, my daughter?"
She looked around the darkness in vain - she was blind without a torch, of which she had none - and the moon was not bright enough this night to see even were she outside. Oshye allowed his eyes to open, and their burning radiance lit the room.

She said nothing, her eyes wide with fright. Oshye stood, the cape of red cloaked about him. "Yea, daughter, though all the world forsake thee, I shall not forsake you."
His voice rumbled. "I am OSHYE. This name I take - The Bloody Oath. This name I have - the Broken Spear. And this name I will give to you - He Who Remembers. I make a bargain with you, daughter."
"Serve me, and I shall never forsake thee. My hand shall be with you always, and there is nothing that is beyond your reach. Be a river to my people, I shall be a river to you. This bargain I make with you. STAND"

She shook, and stood. Oshye took the broken spear from his side, the obsidian tip glinting dully by the fire of his eyes, and with a swift motion stabbed the woman in the chest. Her eyes widened with shock, with fear, and then they narrowed in confusion. She coughed up a mouthful of blood.
"I am Oshye. I am Victory." Oshye smiled wide, with an almost manic grin. "And I have -not- forgotten thee."

He willed her to sleep, and she did at once - but she would awake soon, and the strength of his chosen would flow through her. Though it weakened him - he understood. It was his people that made him strong, and it was them whom he served.

DIVINE REALM

The Gods were gathering. He distrusted them, for twice he had been betrayed by them, but he knew that there was nothing else that could be done but to gather their strength against this greatness of the Bronze King. There would be no victory without it.

And so he came to the gathering-place, the place between places that all the gods that were left had gathered. Too few, he saw - Tezkatl, the dreamer. Tharsus, the burning. Jerrel, the dry scribe. Zaltan, the enternal binder of the mortal's realm. He could smell Gys - it was hard not to. Aellor, with his dual nature. Kesn'Noria - there was a god, who demanded what Oshye felt she did not deserve. One he only barely recognized - the son of the sea God, who now had his mantle. The hunter yet lived, as did luck.

They spoke of resurrecting the sun. Oshye knew of no way that this might be done, except through great sacrifice, and so as he entered, he listened, and only spoke when Tharsus had finished his speech.
"Indeed. And what of War? And Hope? Do we leave them to die? I know this- for a mortal to live without hope...one might as well ask them to live without air, or food."

[e_voyager]

The realm of gods:
Volare returned the greeting and nodded listening. "I see betrayed by one of your own. Such things happen in god wars but this is worse the I've seen before." Volare looked at those assembled and nodded his decision made. " I shall offer my assistance such as it is toward restoring this broken world but it shall not be entirely free. There is an island who's people have become dear to me as I help you restore your world that very restoration helps those whom I've come to care for in this world. " volare focus shifts to Gys whom he'd heard speak. "Your help will indeed be most welcome thought I must confess there is much about you and many of you whom I am unfamiliar but I do know that you have the best intentions for this world of your birth and that is enough."

The moral realm the sun

Volare had know that the sun was wounded upon his arrival on this world but this was worse the he'd believed. This sun was not hurting it was dead with only a little warm and light being given off by it's corpse. He had seen dead stars before but never one that had a living world with it. This was sad beyond words "Is there anyway to fix this?" he asked the gods he perceived to be near by examining the fallen star like he was. The speech that the sun was dead and hopes of resurrecting it had stirred him to investigate the damage fist had and now he was sorry he had not looked into it sooner.


The mortal realm temple of Volare.

A stranger sat on the roof of the temple of Volare with his back to the village look up at the sky. " who are you stranger?" called a voice behind him. From the sound of the voice it was probably the youngest son of the head clerk or perhaps his oldest grandchild. "I'm just a wanderer taking a moment of solace and prying for a miracle." The villager was silent for a few moments. "You should speak to my father he's leader of this village. We do not have much stranger but if we can help you I'm sure that we'll try." The stranger stood. " I thank you for you kindness but I must go... tell your grandfather that now is the time to pray to the gods. They need to hear your prayers and feel your faith in them save this poor world" the stranger jumped behind the temple and the boy ran only the find no trace that the stranger had ever been there.

[Chairtastic]

   One month since your return, improvements are already present.   Thanks to Kumbha's influence, the fish are returning to their fishermen, and water levels rise.  The sun is dimming still, and a chill descends upon the lands lacking a volcano to provide heat.  The return of the volcano god has brought stability to his mountain, even Tezkatl's own fire mountain calms in mimicry.  Perhaps your world is not so broken, after all.

   Isle of Hunting
   The speech daunted those who still had doubts, and they have completed the boat.  Two weeks into the voyage, the canoe has run aground on a sand bar.  The rising waters will soon enough free them, but presently they are at the mercy of the Keeper of the Waves.  In more pleasant news, the shadow of Festival's mountain is clearly in view.  They have almost made it.  Your islanders back at home, however, have reported a lack of game to be hunted.

   Isle of Mish'Na
   Peering into your sick followers, you see a strange, long segmented worm lodged in their intestines, feeding on the food that passes by and spreading itself with the waste.  Your reef is small, and not as grand as the ancient specimens out in the Sea, but fish have come to live there.  Both fish good for eating, and dangerous sharks.  But the chilling water is slowing down the spread of it, making it a significant drain if you continue.  Those who have been set to sneaking and sparring are advancing, if a bit slowly.

   Isle of Night
   The proud warriors have assembled the boats they will use for their travel, and are doing as you bid.  It is not a week that they come to the Isle of Day, and find utter and complete misery.  The people have sensed it, the Sun's death.  Their patron's priests have either killed themselves, or lost the will to preach.  Hope's beacon evidently has not reached this far south just yet.  An odd thing one of your warriors report, is a little girl who daily goes to the ruins of what was once the Sun's temple, and striking upon a drum.  Disjointed notes, and possibly the product of madness.
   
   Your reaper of souls is in pursuit of her relative's soul, gaining ground on her progressively.  In the month that passes, she comes close several times to catching her, but its a near miss every time.

   Argondan
   A rough product is finally produced.  It's frail, and they haven't quite mastered the arts of pressing all the water from it, but the product is complete.  Do with it what you will.  Meanwhile, Shalt has begun investigating the differences in types of rock, beside from colour.  Thanks to the lever, the people are able to build stone homes for themselves, instead of relying upon caves.  New structures are coming to be, rough, and not as quickly as they would like, but none the less.

   The Temple
   Your followers have reported this new source of salt is helping to replace the depleted stores of it, and that your method for purifying water is helping the sick to become well.  Your child is progressing well, but the cold is endangering all who live on your island.

   Isle of Luck
   Your people have done as you wished.  They have arrived at the site, and await what to do next.  Those left behind are trying to use the wreckage from the ships to build a permanent home.  A tentative peace endures.  For now.
   
   Isle of Kindness
   Your people have done as you bid, and now explore the island, mapping it, and citing areas which could potentially be of use.  They are not secure in their guesses, and the intensifying cold is making it hard to travel, but they try.

   Where the Sea ends
   The oracle is and old man, deaf in one ear, and more than a little unbalanced.  But he sees you for what you are, and accepts you into the Temple where your father still is depicted.

   Isle of Fire
   The people have built one communal house for their use, which also serves as a temple.  They fear to go off in groups less than four from this building, and will undoubtedly need persuading to break up into family groups instead of one community.  They have taken from their stores of fruit and nuts to plant what will one day be trees.  That is, if the encroaching cold stops, and the Sun returns.  The Corruption is leaving them progressively.

   Isle of Cats
   The people continue to eat, though they have avoided the patch of mushrooms where the man died.  No other deaths were recorded.  Jubilant news, after bringing a second cat from another area of the island, the village will see its first litter of kittens in short order.

   Isle of Victory
   The girl has woken up, and the village elders know not why her wound will not heal, nor why it does not bleed.  The word of your return spreads like wildfire, and the people are happy for a short time.  The biting cold creeping in stymies it in short order, however.

   The Sun
   There it is.  The Sun.  Appearing as a giant mirror's frame, with only fragments of glass still attached, emitting the dying light and heat that the mortals currently enjoy.  A cloud of razor shards floats in orbit around it, these fragments are obsidian, and emit neither light nor heat.  Inside the frame of the mirror, but behind where the class would be, rests a skeleton.  The flesh is gone already from the bones.  As you watch, three smaller fragments of the glowing glass break, go dark, and fall away to be caught in orbit alongside the others.

   The Beacon, and the Warrior
   War appears striding out of a fog, the divine equivalent of a private room.  Her armor is cracked, he sword is bent, and one of her four arms appears broken, with a dagger impaling the palm.  Vivid green skin is now pale, sickly, and covered in blood.  She gives you a look that could set you afire had you a corporeal form, but is ready to listen.

   Hope arrives.  Clad in a flowing garment, and holding a torch aloft.  A radiant halo shines behind her head.  She is the only one of any deity you have seen so far to appear as she was before the Betrayal, as if she had not suffered loss, despite her sister's murder. Behind her, you can see facsimiles of those she had remained behind to protect.  The Four Seasons, Mountain, Vengeance, and one you honestly cannot place.  She is ready to listen to your words.

       Underworld
       The former god of the Sea glowers as you pass by.  The old man is brought to you by your servants, and he testifies that he ate mushrooms of a different colour than the ones Ivan had eaten, wondering if they would have a different flavor.  And that he died shortly thereafter because he could no longer breathe under his own power.

[Inumo]

A worm? Inside my people? What... this is a problem. Returning to the divine plane, I called for Gys. "There's some kind of worm inside of my people. What do you know of it?" As I waited for him to answer, I let the reef relax, warning the fishermen that their might be a more dangerous prey about now. It was down to a waiting game.

[SquirrelWizard]

Bored Room of the Gods
Masota watched the two new gods enter the room and silently shook her head. The light of the world should not be a beacon of hope, nor war. Hope and war were mortal constructs. They needed something eternal, something outside the mortal realm, yet invested in it as well. They would need something that could straddle the boundries of Life and Death. Masota merely faded away, she would need to exert much more power in the world to do what she planned and still converse with her subjects.

Mortal Realm

Island of Hell (named by sailors)

The island was a sharp jagged monstrosity that jutted up from the oceans floor like a black blade from hell. It was of no use to any race of mortal save for a few hardy shrubs and a flock of seafaring birds. In the center of the island was a volcano, slumbering to the magmatic pulse of the earth itself. Masota had discovered the island a long time ago. Sailors had found it by chance, and they had died on its shores. Since nothing mortal beyond a few animals could subsist on its land, it would be a perfect place for what she had planned. She looked up again, and disappeared.

High in the Sky

Masota appeared where the corpse of the Sun lay dormant, floating in space. She brought forth a bag, and started picking up the pieces and putting them into the sack. Masota tried to be quick and thorough. To leave any trace behind would invite the potential for disaster, even for one as blessed as she.

Tension at the Spring.

The eight had gathered as told. Their trip through the jungle had been relatively uneventful, though the seven of the eight were having their doubts. Through their trip to the spring, there had been creatures darting alongside them, just out of sight but always a presence that was there. "Capasian, why did this god bring us here?" one of the seven asked, "For what purpose? This jungle is foreboding enough, now we find ourselves seperated, and I must ask why?!"

Masota's answer came as a maelevolant roar on the wind that ripped through the clearing, "Silence!" the humans glanced around in bewilderment, with not a single sound escaping their throats. Along th edges of the clearing, giant squirrel-like beast melted out of the jungle. They formed a perimeter along the edge, but advanced no further. Masota stood with them, in her primal form of squirrel, fox, and human. Her red hair was like fire, and her green eyes glowed like emerald coals, "It is only through my grace and mercy that you are here and alive. You, who sought to take your destiny in your own hands, caught my attention as the seas were sent into turmoil. When one of you sought me out, I lent you my aid, and saved those who I could from the throws of the uncontrolled sea. I saved you because I saw many qualities within your people that I, as a goddess of luck, admire." the last word seemed to linger as if her opinion could change at any moment.

Masota began to step forward, seemingly calmer now that her entrance had been made, "Your leader's role in your salvation has not come without a cost though. As you stay upon my island and partake of its food and shelter, I require payment in return. By staying here, you are now mine, and mine alone. If you do not wish to join me, then you are free to return to the ocean, or stay here at your own peril." Her face broke into a crooked smile, "but, your mortal condition is not unknown to me. If you chose to stay, and worship me, I will give you the same offer that I have presented before your leader. Favor me, I too shall favor you and your kind. Hold true to my tenants and I, and you shall not find me far from your side. I cannot give you all that you ask for, but if you seek it yourself, I shall see to it that luck shines favorably upon you that day. The world around you is changing. Now is the time for bravery, for heroes, for people who will not sink into the black of night but, through guile and tenacity, instead rise up and grasp the reigns of their own destiny for themselves. Through your hands this shall come to pass, through my power I will see this done." She seemed to appraise the humans before her as she waited for their replies.

[Cogidubnus]

Mortal Realm: Isle of Victory

Oshye felt in his bones his weakness after such an exertion. He hoped that the seeds he had sown would take root.

And they did. His worship spread like wildfire, and he felt his weariness fade - and then return, as his children tried to fight off the cold and hunger.
Oshye thought, and looked, and found what he sought.

To his chosen, he whispered, "Take your hunters, and bring them to the great ocean at the edge of your Island. Tell them to search the waters of the great bay, and take from them the creatures that hide in their shells from all danger. From their shells, make bowls. From their flesh, take nourishment. Beware their snapping jaws."

"Another gift I bring to you - deep within these chambers, there is respite from the cold..."

He told her of a path she had never heard before - nor was sure had ever existed before now. And within this chamber, the walls themselves sweated with the heat of the room, and the chill of night was kept at bay.

"And these commandments I give to you - thrive. Explore your Island. Multiply. Find Happiness. Search for the Victory that is not success, and know me better."

The Divine Realm: The Boardroom

Time ticked by. He had shown up too late, he supposed, but he found no reason yet to leave. He waited to see if any other god had something to say.

He had always held a rapport with War - a mutual respect. And Hope was an ally of his too - without hope, the struggle to Victory was often too difficult. So he decided that he would search for them, with the self-that-was-not-here.

[Arcalane]

NB: Tharsus is dual-manifesting. Having a manifestation near the Anchor helps him to recover faster, hence the fairly rapid recovery of his council-room avatar.



The Astral Plane - Meeting Room

Tharsus turns his attention to Horiv for a moment...

"My followers are hardly mindless, the Anchor does not work that swiftly... and mindless worship brings no power worth speaking of. They are simply misguided and worship out of fear, a misconception I have been unable to shatter despite my best efforts. In truth, it was perhaps in part the reason I left for the mainland in the first place. As for sacrifices, there is barely enough soil to grow food and perhaps a few trees, a burial ground would be impossible to site. The tribe's customs are to burn the bodies of the deceased and spread their ashes across the fields."

"I appreciate the offer, but I am confident I can handle this affair by myself. Save your energy for your own people and later efforts."

He muses on something, then continues, addressing the others as well as Horiv now;

"My lands and Sanctuary are open for all to explore, so long as all is left undisturbed, especially the village. There are few things I will not tolerate in the slightest- any attempts to access the Anchor's chamber, and any interference on the island... will be regarded as declaration of hostile intent. Apart from that, the Library may be of interest to some of you. It's a little sparse and the works are rather outdated, but there is likely something of use to someone buried somewhere within the archives. If you need any assistance locating a text, the Overseer will be more than happy to help you."



The Mortal Realm - Sanctuary

Tharsus slouched upon his throne, staring blankly at the entrance... then snapped to as the Overseer arrived. A formal bow, and the report began;

"Master Tharsus, the Lieutenant reports the relocation was successful, and the villagers have assembled a communal building for the camp. There are some... social issues yet to be ironed out, but I anticipate preparations for the first Monolith will be completed by the time you and the others have completed restoring the Sun."

The fire-god nodded, then hauled himself to his feet, staggering slightly.

"A good start. Not perfect, but then little is. I am glad to see you have not lost your edge after all these years. Keep an eye on the Lieutenant and the village... I need to check on the Anchor."

"...oh, and we may have a visitor or two soon. I have extended informal invitation to the others regarding the archive. I fear it is out of date, but we may be able to find something in those old tomes."

The Overseer bowed, "If it is your will, then I shall assist them with any queries they have, Master. Now, I will see to the villagers." Another bow, and the Overseer departed, to deliver updated instructions to the Lieutenant.

Tharsus, in turn, sauntered into the Anchor Room, in the chamber behind the Throne Room. Time to see just how much life the old girl had left in her...

[Previewer]

The Temple, Kairos (The Isle of Time), Mortal Realm

On an island in an archipelago far from the God King's influence, in the lone temple resting on peak of the central mountain, a solitary figure sits cross legged in its main hall. The dust of many years had settled on him and his saffron robe. His cycle was coming to an end and he could feel it. Soon it would be time to choose another successor, one who would hold vigil in trance as he had for nearly a quarter century now.

A sudden change in his surroundings stirs him from his meditative trance however; the monolith in the courtyard outside had changed. Its presence was now literally palpable and calling to him. This situation was similar only to those in the lore passed to him from his predecessor. It meant Ainos was attempting to contact a mortal, something which had not been done in a very long time. Exiting from his meditative trance, he rose and shuffled outside to the courtyard where the monolith stood. While he was chronologically almost two centuries old, his body was similar to that of a man approaching the end of life with a good few years to go.

As the monolith came into view, he noticed the absence of the shadow it casted during its usual function as a sundial. He reasoned that day must have been over and it was now night. That was until he noticed that the water clocks in the courtyard were dry. They were filled by evaporation and condensation during the day due to the Sun. This meant that the cycles of the Sun had been absent for a while. He moved closer to the monolith, still feeling its call and its unusual presence.

In his mind, he saw the very courtyard he was standing in. It was however, daytime and the monolith casted a shadow at the noon position. In a few seconds, the shadow suddenly disappeared as the light of the Sun weakened abruptly. The monolith shattered and its fragments seemed to float around where it once stood. After a moment, the monolith reformed, but the fragments were still separate and cracks remained.

A voice, heard only by him spoke, "The Flow of Time is broken. The place of the gods in the hearts of man has been usurped. Go to the village of your descendants. Bring to them the ways that you would bring to your successor, for they have now all been chosen. Remember me and all my ways to them, for they have all but forgotten. Make haste, for time is of essence."

A lone figure walks down a flight of stairs carved into the mountainside to carry out the instructions of his god. It had been a long time since Ainos had spoken directly to a mortal, with commands to gather followers and make haste, no less. He had expected to be given the knowledge for making some fancy new timepiece, not to be rescuing the God of Time. From the vision earlier he gathered that Ainos was weak and the Sun was dead. Who knew what happened to the other gods?

**********

Village by the Cove, Kairos (The Isle of Time), Mortal Realm

"... and at the change of every cycle, the one previously chosen descends from the temple and picks a successor. The one who is chosen is brought to the temple to continue the cycle," finishes the elder. "Are there any questions from today's story?"

A few of the children raise their hands and the elder points at one of them. "How will we know this person when they arrive?"

"He or she will always be wearing robes of bright orange. Something you won't see any of us here down in the village wearing."

Another child asks, "What do they do in that old temple in the mountains for so long?"

"No one here remembers anymore, child," the elder replies. "Perhaps learn the secrets of time? They make and bring us the calendars that we use for every cycle. Don't forget that they live for much longer that we do. The one who will come in down sometime in the next decade or so could probably be one of our great-great-great grandfathers."

"So, they pray to Ainos just as we do?"

"Yes, that they do. Perhaps they also would know him and his ways better than we do."

As the children filter out of the elder's hut, a lively discussion begins among them.

"Well, I certainly wouldn't want to have to go up to some old temple by myself with some old person and never come down again until I become old too."

"I think it would be interesting to learn the secrets that they have been keeping up there."

"We don't really know if they have any secrets at all. Remember, the elder said that it's been forgotten."

"We could ask him." A small girl points to an old man dressed in saffron robes walking towards the elder's hut. The rest of the children turn their gaze towards the figure she points at. Immediately, they scatter back to their own huts. As she stares at the conspicuous figure, an older boy pulls the little girl by the arm into their own hut.

**********

That evening, the entire village had gathered to hear the elder speak. Many expected the choosing of a successor to take place. The individual in bright orange robes that they had heard about in childhood stories was standing next to the elder.

"Change has come with the times, as it always has since the beginning. This time perhaps, a change greater than we could have imagined and more unwelcome than most. As all of you would have probably surmised by now, something has happened on a greater scale; the absence of the Sun's light, the difficulties our fishermen have been having, the earthquakes, these are the consequences of man forgetting the gods. Ainos has reached out to us, for we still remember him. He has called to us to keep him in our prayers and has chosen all of us to receive the forgotten knowledge of time that was once our forefathers. I know you are expecting the choosing of an individual, but these troubled times call for change, just as change has been forced upon us."

"Earthquakes have stopped and fish have begun to return, signs of the strengthening of the God of the Seas and Earth. The absence of the Sun and day are because of the death of the Sun God. Of the other gods, we do not yet know. We must make do in these times and keep our faith. In the coming days, we will be taught the construction of water clocks and the calculation of calendars. For the moment, our sundials have been rendered useless. In times past, the calendar for the next cycle would be brought to us; now we once again take its construction into our own hands."

[Tezkat]

"Ainos! My son! You yet live!"

Temporarily unable to restrain himself, the jaguar pounces, hugging his son close. Regaining his composure, he stands back to gaze upon the face of Time.

"It is good to see you well. Thinking you lost, I dispatched my followers to your island. Please allow them to assist yours however they can."

When the returned god finally notices the lost Sun, he nods gravely. He stands over the body in a moment of silent vigil with his remaining kin.

"This is all that remains of sweet, life-giving Sun, brutally slain and violated by the foulest of treachery. There will come a day of reckoning. But first, we must pay our last respects."

+ + +

Tezkatl stands at the thresholds of his three kingdoms, in heaven, in earth, and in dreams. From the heart of the sky, he gathers the heavenly remains of the sun and swathes them in a shroud of stars. From the heart of the earth, he draws the flames to ignite the pyre, bidding them renew the sky as they renew his land. From the heart of the dreams, he fuels the blaze with the endless possibilities of imagination.

The sky explodes, erupting for an instant with the light of a thousand suns. And then all is quiet. With the sun finally gone, the moon watches over the world alone. A shimmering halo of stardust, the last embers of the sun's flames, bathes the earth in gentle twilight.

+ + +

"It is done."

The reluctant god of the heavens lies curled up over a nest of cosmic string. His eyes betray his fatigue, but exultation drowns out the weariness. He shifts his body, revealing a clutch of iridescent celestial eggs. In each of them, you can feel a faint glimmer of the sun.

"Behold the children of the Sun. I have not the power to birth a new day star. None of us do. Not alone. But we can each lend our strength to a fragment of her soul. There is an egg for each of you willing to take up the cause of restoring her to the sky. Foster it. Nurture it. Grant it your power. Care for it as one of your own children. From the ashes of the sun, we will raise a new beacon of light to shine over the world."

He climbs out of the nest but hovers over the edge like a protective mother. His demeanour suddenly turns grim.

"We have also discovered why the cosmos did not act restore the natural balance on its own and birth a new Sun. It could not, for the body was looted, its remains desecrated. Such is the fate of the fallen in this war. We must hunt down and recover the lost shards, for who knows what foul ends madmen like the Betrayer and his servants may seek with them. Even if we cannot yet confront them directly, sooner or later these monsters will answer for their crimes against divinity."

+ + +

Itztli and his people went out among the children of the sun, doing what they could to repair the shattered hearts of this land. He could not imagine the pain of losing his god, a force that had been part of his soul for as long as he could remember. Gods willing, he would never have to learn. But he saw it here every day. These people were merely going through the motions of life. Bereft of  hope and leadership, they were woefully unprepared for the harsh winter ahead.

And so his people helped where they could, readying for darker days as were their families back home. They hunted with their brethren to stock the larders and clothe the people in warm furs. They fished the renewed seas. They sowed the seeds of their sacred plants that would thrive even in the soft light of the moon. Most importantly, they worked to restore the Sun's temple. The dreams had been unusually specific on this matter. The temple and its new altar would have to be ready for the ceremony of rebirth. The pace was frantic, the labour gruelling, but their faith sustained them throughout.

When the appointed day arrived, he gathered everyone at the temple to pay their final respects to the fallen Sun. The sky flared with blinding light, but it did not blind them. Where the Sun once stood, a shimmering nebula of deep reds, blues, and purples wreathed the skies. The moon led a somber procession as brilliant auroras danced across the heavens. From the lonely eye of the heavens, a single tear dropped, streaking to earth as a falling star. It trailed the twilit skies and came to rest at the temple, atop the newly constructed altar. The cosmic egg glittered like a gemstone of unearthly perfection. Its dark facets mirrored the entire universe around it, but all those gathered could see the brighter heart burning within.

"Behold the daughter of the Sun, as was foretold. From her mother's ashes, new life is born. But she needs your prayers to grow bright and strong. Pray to the heavens, that our Lord may have the strength to raise up this child to dance the heavens with him as her mother did."

[AmberCross]

As Aellor began his greetings to Hope and War, joy elated him. Every passing moment was a step towards his goal. It was a good plan, a solid one that would fix many problems. With the favor of... Aellor paused, both in musing and in greeting. Something big was happening, someone was drawing upon the power of the stars and aside from himself, only one god yet living could do that. With a sudden sense of clarity, Aellor realized that after being distracted by Zaltan's speech he had never quite gotten around to speaking with Tezkatl about the sun. None of the other gods could actually do anything about the situation aside from Tezkatl and thus that was the only god Aellor had needed to make sure he was on the same page as (so to speak) and he had completely forgotten to do so! Even before the process had finished, Aellor knew what Tezkatl had done, and sure enough a moment later the sun exploded. Aellor's beautiful plan was in tatters.

It was a disappointment to be sure, but certainly one he was used to. This was not the first beautifully constructed plan of his that had been torn apart by an oversight, or sometimes even his own doing. He was after all the god of chaos as well as order and he could ride on this situation, though he would have to work quickly. Having seen the true forces the godking contended with, Aellor had to admit to himself that he was beneath the godking's notice and therefore did not need to try so hard to avoid it. And so with this realization, he split his attention to deal with all the things he would need to do. Order had fallen into chaos, and it was time to return the chaos to order.


Hope
"My pardons, it seems my original idea is no longer viable. However my original intent still remains. I greatly admire what you are doing and wish to help in perhaps the only way I can. My followers and those of my compatriots are not that great, but faith from them would still be a boon to you. I ask that you bestow upon me a token representative of yourself with which to amplify the faith of our followers. Their faith would help us, and by association with you, aid you in your work. Besides..." Aellor trailed off sadly, staring in the direction of the archipelagos. "Our people struggle. Few of the gods will admit it, but our people struggle. It is all we can do to keep them alive, and even then our people often seem lifeless. Now more than ever with the sun extinguished, the people of our lands will need hope if they are to truly live during these dark times."


War
"Great Warrior! I know you care little for those of us who have fallen or fled the one with which you clash, but still you are the reason we yet live. Of all the gods who oppose the one who betrayed us, you are the only one to be able to hold him off. You owe us no boon, but we owe a boon to you. I ask for a token representing yourself that we may repay you in the only manner we are able. Let us tell our people of the one who ever fights so that he who betrayed us all does not find victory for his treachery. Let their faith, limited as it may be, aid you in your fight. Even if you may not need this strength, please accept it anyway as it is the only way I can think of to thank you for your efforts."


The Shattered Sun
Near the reborn sun(s), a constellation seemed to move and a copy of it moved forward, as if a painting of the sky behind it had suddenly come to life and moved away from that which it mimicked. The moving stars began to swirl and out from the center stepped Aellor who looked bemusedly at the scene before him. "You know, I already had a way to save the sun, faster than your plan even. Perhaps I admit, it would not have been as effective in the end, we will not know now or ever, but still. It's really too bad I forgot to tell you. I had hoped even that I could accomplish it before you had to see her in the state you did. I should have known you would seek the truth past my shrouds... I am sorry about what the Betrayer did to her."

As Aellor gazed upon the changed landscape, he had to admit to himself that he did like the ambience that remained. The nebula did not seem to be quite from Tezkatl, but rather more due to the absence of the sun. The way darkness came from the absence of light, ice from the absence of fire. The void seemed to absorb light, and yet all the light it pulled in somehow generated more which reflected outward and provided at least a modicum of light to those below. There would be dark days ahead, but all was not lost. They had the beginnings of a new sun, and if negotiations went well, hope would light the hearts of those enshrouded in darkness, while faith in their guardians gave them courage to meet the new day. Still there was the immediate manner at hand.

Aellor approached the nest, "I will of course do my part in this endeavor." As he reached forward, possibilites of futures pored through him. He could not see where they led, but the image of him choosing one egg in particular lay stronger over the rest. He smiled and gently lifted up on of the eggs a little off to the side, but not quite at the edge. There was nothing about this egg that marked it different from the rest, and indeed they were probably all the same, but still... he had a good feeling about this one. It had been a long time since he had had any children and realizing how long it had been saddened him. It was far past time for him to fix that.


Ael
A gaggle of children played around the fireplace under the watchful eye of the elder. Every day he did not die was treated as a small miracle by the rest of his tribe. He knew he could not last forever, but he realized that the people looked to him as a constant in a changing world. Because of this he refused to let himself die, he could not let down these people who had very few anchors holding them down. Even for a people such as theirs, they needed a few things they could count on and not enough trusted in their returned god to let that be one of them.

Still at least the children were happy. Nothing ever phased them... not the death of the sun very recently, not the large snow leopard playing with them, not the... large... snow leopard... playing... with.... them. GOOD HEAVENS THERE WAS A LARGE SNOW LEOPARD AMONG THE CHILDREN! The elder jumped up in a panic, heart beginning to race, stumbling down off his chair and almost falling before the leopard looked his way. In the eyes, the elder saw untold centuries, power and awareness beyond his knowing, and perhaps most importantly a feeling of protectiveness that would never allow harm to fall upon those under his watch. Aellor was not a god of protection, but those who knew his also knew that he held children to be precious. In them lay unfettered imaginations that ran wild with little prompting and that had always been what the Everchanging loved most about humanity.

As the elder forced himself from the brink of a heart attack, he saw before his eyes reality become fuzzy to the point where he could not really say what was happening. "I'm too old for this..." he muttered, but knew better than to disbelieve his eyes. On one level, it seemed the children were just running around playing make believe, but over that you could just see the sword brandished by a pirate against a horde of foes instead of a small stick held by a seven year old boy who beat at a somewhat unfortunate bush. One child flapping his arms actually seemed to floating above the ground while a third played around with fireflies that appeared to be stars and galaxies. All the while, the snow leopard stalked among them, seeming to be made quite literally of snow and wind. Even fainter, beyond that, it seemed as if they were all one giant family of snow leopards in a winter landscape, with the father watching them rough and tumble each other as he gave one particularly disgruntled one that had injured a paw a bath.

The elder shook his head and the image vanished, and a moment later some unspoken message ran through the children as they split. The snow leopard sat by the fire and waited as the children ran to fetch their parents. It had taken him a while, but Aellor finally remembered what it was he used to do when he wished to help his people. Across the village, a little girl burst into her parents' hut, "Mommy, daddy! The giant kitty wants to talk to you!" Bemused, and not particularly busy, they allowed themselves to be pulled along by their girl towards the fire. They were alarmed at first at the sight of such a large predator within their village, but were quickly reassured by the elder's presence with his grandson who had a bandaged hand and looked a bit sullen with a rather large cowlick that seemed to be lighter than they remembered...

As more and more of the village gathered, Aellor felt it was time to begin. "My people, as many of you have guessed, I am the god of this island, the one your elder told you of. I am here to tell you a story of the gods... how we rose, and how it is we came to fall." As he spoke, those who were willing to could see flashes of that which the god of chaos and order spoke. Those more imaginative such as the children and a few of those older felt as if they were actually there where the events transpired. And the story continued on...

[VAE]

Divine realm

The feline listened intently to Tharsus's refusal.
"As you wish, lord of the fires....  my offer stands for the future shall the situation of your people improve.... "  Horiv seemed rather entertained.

It was perfectly understandable after all - in these moved times individual gods were wary of accepting aid even if it would have the potential to improve their situation... everyone, him  included, rather went on by their own strengths ,closely guarding their followers and their islands, even if such a choice was sub-optimal..


However, as of now, there were more pressing concerns around..


Isle of Cats, mortal realm

The first of island's cats visited Ivan yet again, filling his head with the sound of the old man's testimony.
Here you have his own words, now make sure such a thing happens no more. Also, have some of your men check near the fissures, where the soil is still warm - the dark-leaved plants growing around bear edible tubers underground, ones that should give your people more strength than mere mushrooms

The "broadcast" was rather short this time, as there were many more things  the lynx earth god had to take care of.

To the side of influencing the growth of the "crops" the island could bear now, there was a second, more important thing that would cost Horiv some energy , but repay later.
There was a new generation of cats to be born, and he had to try with all his knowledge to subtly modify the embryos in order for them to develop an intelligence more acute than their parents.
The difference probably wouldn't be great at first, but within a few dozen generations, Horiv hoped he'd succeed developing people-like intellect...

Ivan had left his hut. As he walked forth, thinking about what he had just been relayed , and the best way of presenting it to the people, the heavens exploded with a flash that had him covering his eyes and diving towards the nearest shade of a tree.

The sun's location, mortal realm

The earth deity rarely wandered in places like this... Horiv didn't feel all that comfortable with the skies, stars and mainly just emptiness around instead of soil, rock and magma.
He turned to the dark jaguar deity, currently split between pouncing the newly appeared time god, and having a speech.
"If we can't revive the sun at all, perhaps the best would be to split the eggs between ourselves, and use them to bring more life to our homelands.... If that happens even if one of the new sunspheres got destroyed in the conflict, the others will remain, much less vulnerable than one whole sun.
I for one will aid you in this endeavour - after all, if the earth's fire aided you in blasting the corpse of the old suns, it might help me nourish one of the new."

[Ashen Star]

The Boardroom of the Gods.

She did not announce herself; what would be the point of that?  No grand entrance or bold declarations.  No words at all for the bleeding girl standing in the corner, her burlap rags soaked through with blood.  Tear rimmed eyes looked at the others fighting; endlessly fighting.  To what point or purpose, she wondered.  The King had turned on his own.  It had not been the first time she had seen it.  Endings were the punctuation of existence.

Her gore smeared hands turned over a curious weapon.  To the unobservant it was a dagger.  To the less observant it was a sword hilt, broken off in a jagged edge.  But only the truly perceptive would glean that this was a weapon created as it was; Broken.  A symbol for herself, and so apt for today's problems.  Her hands turned over the weapon again and again, her blood smearing the hilt as she looked down at the edges that shrank beyond divine awareness.  Truly, had she made Broken, or had Broken made she?

And with a whisper she was once more gone.  Her being now stood within the ruins of the sun.  Her feet stepped down on to the floor besides that colossal corpse laying in charred repose.  Truly, there was enough lingering heat and energy for the dying sun to limp by for months, perhaps years.  Her tiny hand reached out to touch the great bones of the slain god; red cooking to black ash in seconds.

She walked through the chamber of the sun to the God's throne; from here the sun had risen and set at his direction.  It had warmed in summer and cooled in winter, to suit the sun's seasonal whims.  Though the bones had been the incarnation of the sun's previous direction... this was the seat of it's existence.  This was the locus of its undoing.

She closed her eyes as tears ran down her cheek, her tiny hands closing on a hilt seeming almost too large for her to grip.  Contrary to some, she had no inkling what would follow.  If the other gods would rally for a solution, or not.  In the end, did it really matter.  It was time for her to do her job.  Raising Broken over her head, she brought it down in a  crescent of acid pitted metal.  The blade struck the throne of the dead sun with a resounding ping, a tiny crack appearing.  It was always tiny.  Always at first.  A second later, with a fragile grinding noise, the crack spread along the surface of the throne.  A low rumble issued from the dead sun as sympathetic cracks spread as well along the columns and pillars; the great brass halls and galleries of obsidian.  And the bones of the god in repose.

A terminus was reached; dreadful stillness as existence was perpetuated for a heartbeat... two... three... f-  the great structure of the sun shattered.  Glass and steel and god bone broke as one, the immense structure collapsing inwards towards the broken throne.  In a terrible gust, what few embers remained were extinguished and blown far and wide across the heavens.  Inward and inward the destruction roared.  Breaking.  Smashing.  Shattering.  Collapsing.  Inward and inward till as before a silence filled the great and vast void that had been the sun.  What remained was a tiny stone, perhaps an inch across.  All that had been the sun, its god... all that had not been removed or salvaged... lay in that stone.  And she reached out, cupping it in her palm.

It was warm.  It stung the lacerations in her palm like pumice.  She raised it to her lips, pursed them, and blew softly upon it.  In a pattering of dust, the stone disappeared from creation and only the void remained.  Perhaps it would be filled... by eggs or dust or some other glowing thing.  Perhaps not.  Standing in the pupil of that cosmic eye she closed her own and wept.  And then, as soft as swift as a shadow, she too was gone.

She appeared back in the chamber of the gods, her feet returning to the coagulating puddle as she closed her eyes.  Would it matter?  Would it even be noticed?   Did she care either way?  She wiped the dust of the slain sun off on her filthy dress.  One would see, one way or the other.

[e_voyager]

The mortal realm the sun.
" Such a display of power. i had not thought any of you had that kind of strength left. " Volare smiled pleased that such a step had been accomplished but knew that much more lay in the future. much more need to be done.   Volare gazed over the eggs not interfering with the god of fire's selection as he searcher form a vibrant and strong one that he could grow to be a beacon for his people. He would nurture it and feed it the power his people gave some so that some day it would guide the rest of the world into a better future. Picking up his egg following the power of his domain as he took it to here it would shine over his people when hatched. Now all he needed was the spark of life to start it growing.

The realm of gods.

"you makes a good Point. Horiv I believe you names is pronounced. Perhaps you'll be willing to work with me as I point my people towards a new future. You have the ability to revitalizes the land do you not?"  asked  Volare holding and cradling his sun egg.  "once we have our sun's up and growing our peoples should be able to recover and join with each other. But before that I have a request of you..."

The isle of kindness.

As much as he hated to admit it growing a sun wasn't going to be easy. His worshipers where taking and mass producing the new travel clothing that he'd shown them in there visions and dreams. He looked up at where the sun egg would soon be. Now if horvi could be convinced to help him the entire isle would soon start to prosper. While having his people praise Horvi for his gifts would strengthen the god it would also bring them into a newer better life where they

[Previewer]

Newly Created Nebula (previously the Sun's remains)

Ainos initially stiffens at Tezkatl's embrace but quickly relaxes and returns the display of affection. In light of the current situation, family took priority over formalities and decorum.

"I will ensure your followers are welcomed when they reach my island. My thanks for the consideration."

As Tezkatl lights the funeral pyre and the shower of lights ensues, Ainos weaves in a subtle tribute of his own. Bending space-time slightly within the nebula, he creates a gravitational lens which diverts a small portion of the light from its stars. A faint halo of light is seen around the nebula, reminiscent of the shape of the old Sun. For the observant, a small break in the halo which moves around its circumference is seen; its period is the same as that of the old Sun, one complete cycle following the passage of a day and a night.

Noticing the presence of Volare, Horriv and Aellor, he acknowledges them before dissipating his presence from this particular location.

**********

Divine Realm

Following Tezkatl's announcement, Ainos once again begins to intone.

"Volare, Aellor, Tezkatl and I have seen the shattered Sun. I will confirm that what remained was incomplete."

"I too will care for part of the remains of the Sun. Both out of duty and out of necessity. To those who have assented to this course of action, I offer my support."

From the nest of cosmic string, an iridescent egg fades from under Tezkatl's vigil, slipping into the threads of time itself.

**********

Kairos (Isle of Time), Mortal Realm

The saffron robed man sat meditating while most of the village slept. The events of the immediate past had been very strange. He was seated next to the monolith of the village sundial trying to recollect his wandering thoughts. This time, he was unperturbed by the change in the monolith's presence. To him alone Ainos spoke again.

"Turn your gaze to the sky where the Sun once stood.
Subtle is my design in the Sun's shining tomb.
A new sun will be birthed from your prayers and your faith.
Welcome Night's warriors, for they bring aid.
Soon to arrive, from lands afar; trust them, for they are kin."

He looked up and saw a bright flash of light across the sky. A multihued nebula was now where the Sun had once been. Dancing colours trailed the moon, and a falling star descended, landing beyond the horizon. Just barely he noticed, a ring of light around the nebula, reminiscent of the Sun's shape. And hardly noticeable was a break in that ring, slowly moving along its circumference, like the shadow of a sundial.

The night was quiet once more. The monolith was again just a block of stone.

[Arcalane]

The Astral Coffeeshop Of Doom

Tharsus listened quietly as Tezkatl explained the plan, and with a simple gesture, summoned one of the revealed fragment-eggs into his hand. The tiny remnant looked so fragile and meek as it hovered above the fire-god's obsidian-clad palm, almost as if it were going to collapse in on itself if it was struck by so much as a stiff breeze. Then it shimmered, turning a brilliant firey-orange.

"I shall place this piece within the Anchor itself until the time is right for their reunification. What better place to feed the flames of a newborn sun than the heart of a volcano?"

A rhetorical question, of course... and with that, it disappeared in a puff of flame, to take it's place at the Anchor's Heart.

In the mean time, Astral-Tharsus unhooked the spellbook from about his belt, and immersed himself in it's arcane teachings whilst his Physical Self tended to the Anchor.

[Corgatha Taldorthar]

The Divine Meeting Room.
Jerrel smiled inwardly, seeing that others, more qualified in these areas than he, were working on the more existential problems, the pestilence, the dying sun, the gasping seas. He divested most of his awareness and self from the lot, only keeping a shadowy form for communicative purposes, and enough power to spin out a new little table, which he manifested himself at, a sign of "To strike at our foe", above the appearance of a granite plinth.

As an afterthought, he whispered in Horiv's ear. "I yearn to strike more directly against the King. My mortals, perhaps better than anyone else's, are structured for an attack. I am not yet ready though, and I was perhaps wondering what bargain could be struck for you to leave deposits of copper in Teleothial, that my children be properly armed.


That of course, reminded him that he had never called upon his most faithful to arm for battle before, they still hunted with stone spears and arrows. He whispered to Zaltan. "I wish to send my mortals forth to do battle. Not today, not tomorrow, but when we are ready to strike. I have begged Horiv to leave copper in my island, and I would wish to negotiate with you for the privilege of touching my mortals with knowledge of its metallurgy. Or perhaps it would be simpler if we could arrange for one of your own with such knowledge to take a trip to Teleothial. My children can offer many services in exchange.

The Temple.
While most of his awareness was inside, he spoke to his clergy. "I.... I am going to leave you, for a little while, take most of my awareness elsewhere. There are wicked who must be smote. I am entering negotiations for some ore to be brought to the island, if they pan out, I shall direct you where to dig. In the meantime, focus attention on boatworking. Trade with the nearby islands shall ease some of our privation, and in particular, I want you to send people to Airen-Rae, to learn the rites of my colleague Gys. It will bring some more fertility to the island, and with easier agriculture, hands will be freed for other tasks."

Jerrel focused, etching a map of the archipelago, with Teliothial at the center. Airen-Rae he marked with the symbol of a leaf. "That is the one that is vital, but commerce with the other islands will ease some of the privations, and make preparation for war more feasible. Make copies of the chart, distribute them to those  who sail the waters. Now I must make myself manifest elsewhere. Contact me if there are any problems, or if a dispute must be settled."

Jerrel left another small fragment of himself at the temple, even more faint than the one where his brethren discussed, capable mostly of discussion and whatever exertions mortals were capable of. The vast bulk of himself he sent to the mainland, in the guise of a middle aged man, in fine but faded linens.

The Mainland.
This time, he made sure to stay away from the capital, but he searched out with his will to where voices cried out against the king, where sentiment to the old Gods was strongest. He kept his senses alert for any hostile interference from the King, and went to seek out hands he could raise in rebellion.

[Inumo]

It took me a while to realize that the sun had been destroyed. When I did, though, I quickly moved that aspect that was waiting for Gys into the meeting place. "Where did--" I spotted the eggs just as the words escaped my mouth. Within them, I felt a fragment of the Sun. "I did not believe this was planned," I remarked. Noticing the other gods who had eggs of their own, I asked of Horiv, "If I may, shall I care for one of these young, as the child I may never have?"

[VAE]

The big gaping hole where the sun used to be

Horiv held the egg in one paw, and watched intently as the remains of the sun began to crumble. Already he noticed the so-called goddess of worship, Kesh-Noria, asking for one... but why him?
"I don't hand these out... Tezkatl here is their smith"
The lynx paled for a moment ,and the egg disappeared from his paws.

Deep below the Island of Cats
The great feline moved smoothly through soil and magma , until reaching a specific warm spot deep under his island. Here, he placed the egg to draw energy from the heat of earth's depths. Soon he hoped the egg would hatch and the Island of Cats would prosper under its rays.


The divine boardroom
One who prowls the depths looked around the place, noticing that Sombriel too has appeared in the group. The feline turned to Tezkatl.
"Well, that's the third of us, finally... well, it'd have been amusing if one who takes care of death got herself killed... though a lot more work for both of us"
It seemed that the possession of the egg  and due to that, possibility of sunlight had improved the feline's mood considerably.
The feline deity heard Volare and Jerrel addressing him. While the first formulated his needs, the Guardian of Earth's riches answered the second.
"I can indeed grant you a map of the island's resources, and even attempt to raise a few copper veins, though at the moment i am still somewhat weak. As for the rest..." The lynx god examined Jerell with a cautious eye. "There is little you can do for me at the moment... except letting the natural happen - your people giving praise to the one who is to grant them the metals they need...."
Once again , Horiv sat down and waited for a response

[Ashen Star]

Night.  Endless night.  A panoply of stars filled the sky, the gasious rings of the remains lingering like the bloody irish of an eye.  She stood nude upon the highest point of her island, her pale skin luminous in the star tight; the scars that marked her body black as the gulf between those points.  Beneath her foot, her toe stroked along the name.  Azeil Hamma... a fishmerchant.  She closed her eyes.

The mainland city, she came here frequently to do her work.  She walked through the crowds and throngs who huddled around bonfires amid the endless night.  Something would have to be done soon.  The people strained under the disruption; even with the sun corpse they could pretend things were right in the world.  Now there was only night, and someone would have to step forward to return the cycle of darkness and light to the world.  Silent as shadow she moved around the huddled masses.  Some shuttered as she brushed against them, hugging their rags closer to their bodies.

she passed herself a few times, going about her business.  Dark eyes met dark eyes in a moment of recognition.  She was busy now.  Busier than she should have been.  She looked at the reaper, the giggling murderess, the haughty, the weeping daughter, the flayed one, as she passed one then the next.  Aspects of the whole, doing her work while other gods quibbled and fought and struggled.

Why?  She pondered that.  All across the world, things stopped dying for a moment as every aspect of herself stilled in contemplation.  Why were others struggling so, but she was not?  She didn't feel diminished for the betrayal, even though the King had attempted to usurp her role in the cosmos.  He had cajoled, seduced, begged, bribed, and demanded she yield to him and she had not.  She'd felt his wrath, as others had, yet she felt no less for it.  Why?  She paused in her walk, staring at a hungry man and a sickly woman sitting together.  Neither prayed to her or for her, but as both sat there beneath the starless sky, she could feel respect for her office and duty emanated from them like warmth from the bonfire.

Enough.  She had her duties like all others, and as one her countless aspects returned to motion.  The dark lady passed easily into the house of the fish merchant.  It was fair, as domains went, but she had been to the most wretched holes and grandest palaces.  The merchant had been successful, and so his many children clustered around him like hungry jackals.  A few wept true tears, and to those she gave a gentle touch.  She could not remove their sorrow, but she could banish it for a few moments of peace.

Aziel watched her with tired eyes, and wary eyes.  Only he and the alcolyte in the corner could see her, and the latter would never be so rude or gaudy to announce her presence.  "So... you've come..." he rasped against the plegm that choked his lungs.  The mourners heard only the sound of rattling breath as they conversed in the tongue of death.  "About time.  I've been waiting for hours, you know."  His eyes roamed over her body and he chuckled, giving her a weak grin hinting at the lechery of his youth, "It was worth the wait though."

"My apologies."  she said with a warm smile.  "I would have dispatched myself sooner, but it wasn't time."  She said as she reached for his hand.

"Wait!  Wait... a moment please...."  He gasped, and for a moment she frowned.  Would he try to bargain some favor from her?  She had little patience for that.  But Aziel took another slow breath and asked softly, "Why don't you stop this?"  She looked quizically at him now.  Hadn't that been what she was about to do?  But the old fishmerchant just chuckled.  "Not me... I'm done for.  I mean... this fight against the king?  Why don't you end it?"

"You mean, kill the Bronze King?"  She asked gently, and at his nod she closed her eyes softly, "It is not my place."

"You're death.  How is it not your place?"

"It is not my place to decide if he should die or not.  I am endings... countless endings... but it is not my place to decide to implement them on my own.  If circumstances lead to the King's death, then I will kill him.  If it leads to the death of the old gods, then I will kill them.  It is not my place to move the pieces on the board; only to take them off when they have been captured."  She said gently.  It had been the reason she had refused the King's demands; he wished the power to unilaterally destroy all he wished without thought to the consequences of the reasons.  It was her power, she suspected, that he wanted more than anything.  What mattered physical power or spiritual domination compared to the ability to remove any with a whim.  It frightened her more than she could ever admit.  And all across the world, all her aspects froze at the thought.

"I guess that's fair enough."  Aziel wheezed as he closed his eyes.  "I'm sorry it happened, you know."

"Thank you.  So am I."  Because what she hated to admit was that she had been complicit in this.  The King's betrayal would have been meaningless had she refused to allow the destruction of the gods he slew.  But it had not been her place to refuse.  So this... all of this... was also her fault.

Then she reached out and touched his hand.  She felt it like a fine line of silk; his life, his fate, his entire existance. It had been longer than most; full of joy and sorrow, anger and laughter, pain and bliss.  In that instant she felt the wonderful terribleness that came with mortality, and in that moment she felt envy.  Then, with a thought, it broke.   The mechanism of his body stilled.  The remainent of his spirit passed on.  Those she'd touched noticed first, and they wept anew.  This she did not stop.  Others wailed louder, and later.  These she ignored.  Instead she turned to the alcolyte in the corner.  "Take care of his remains.  He was, for the whole of it, a good man."

"Yes mistress." her alcolyte intoned softly, then he added, "Mistress?  Did you mean what you said?  That you would kill the old gods?"

She looked back at the still body.  "I've all ready killed some, the question remains... will it be necessary to kill others?  Or will they prompt themselves to action and work to set things right."  She turned away, looking at her scarred hands.  "They must realize, and soon, the ultimate enemy is not the King.  It is I.  I can only hope they take some of my work for me, before it is too late."

And with that she closed her eyes and felt the name under her foot.  It was cold and still as the body now on the far side of the world.  And so she walked, aimlessly, knowing that eventually... her fingers brushed a name carved in stone.   Mizi Kachazen.  An expecting mother who soon would not be one.  She sighed, bowing her head, feeling the tears on her cheeks as she closed her eyes again...

[Inumo]

"Oh!" I replied to Horiv. "How foolish of me to assume. I apologize for taking your time." And with that, I hurriedly left and posed the same question to Tezkatl.