The Clockwork Mansion

OOC is here. (http://clockworkmansion.com/forum/index.php/topic,8129.0.html)  Keep it there as much as possible.

---

    Your world is broken.  You were the Gods, forces of the universe given name and a will of your own.  Your power was vast, your worshipers many, and reverent as they should have stayed.  Notice how all of this is referred to in the past tense.  Your King betrayed the trust you placed in him.  He killed your friends and family, usurped your cities.  Took your worshipers for his own.  Anything that he could not make utterly his was destroyed or worse.  But you survived.

    Survived to inherit a world fraying at the edges.  The Sun, one of the first to die, is now clouded perpetually, leaving the world to grow ever darker and colder.  Volcanoes erupt frequently and violently; the forces which kept them abated now dead and gone.  The forests fade away, due to both the lack of sunshine, and their own patron's murder.  Song, love...these things are gone.  Do you understand?!  Dead, not coming back!

   The faith of your followers lessens the pains you have suffered.  But they need you now more than ever.  Isolated on inhospitable rocks loosely called islands.  Islands you abandoned for the mainland which is now beyond your reach.  These mortals are dying: disease eats away at the fringes of their populations.  The drive to celebrate is abandoning them.  And you can feel the Sea which surrounds your islands, not quite dead yet, but dying.

    Your world is broken, and you must fix it; I advise you: Get to work.  Now.

Mortal Plane

  The people of one island, Argondan, on the archipelago were existing barely above a primitive tribal state when the world shook. The sky went dark, and all members had a feeling of deep loss. Eventually, members of the tribe suddenly got flashes of various inspiration. Over time, reading and writing re-emerged among this tribe, and they set about trying to make better tools and started building better structures around them.

Diety Plane

  Zaltan had the barest shred of himself present on a shared plane he stmbled across, drawn to it as it seemed to be a beacon of god-essences. More than a year had passed in the mortal world, but to Zaltan, it felt as if he had only just arrived.
  Currently feeblest of all the gods, Zaltan approached the others in the realm of nothingness and everythingness. "I...I am very weak. The world has changed. What just happened?" He asked. "The King...I remember the King..."

The god of the hunt felt weak, as he stood hunched over the world board, hair looking more grayish than black.  He was only wearing his usual barbarian-type wear. Turas and Morina, two of his children who he had convinced Tezkatl to not bring to the land of the dead, were looking concerned about him.

Turas sighed. "Father, I'm not completely sure about your plans so far. Was transforming wolves into sapients really such a great idea?"

Kuntorus looked at his son irritably, as though the answer was obvious. "Wolves are both embodiments of wilderness and the hunt. Besides...There are no lions on my island currently, unfortunately, so, I had to make due."

Morina added in a question of her own. "What about Luntarus, Father? Was using your power to create the temple where time speeds, breeding with one of your wolven followers, and, teaching the child how to hunt one of the best uses of your powers?"

The god of hunting and wilderness looked back at his daughter. "The tribe needs a fit physical leader. With his blood and hunting skills, plus whatever else I've taught him, he will make a fine leader for the tribe. Speaking of Luntarus..." Suddenly, he closed his eyes
.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Luntarus was getting ready for a new hunt, when he suddenly heard a voice in his head. My son. Luntarus looked around the hut. "Father?" Listen to me. We need to expand the following to another island. Gather  1/3 of our hunters, 1/3 of the women, and, 1/3 of the children. The tribe needs to build a boat, and sail to the west. You with them. "Me? But, father, I-" I NEED you for this...Leave your second-in-command in charge of the tribe on the island while you're gone. Luntarus nodded. "Understood." Then, he walked out of the hut. He was soon greeted by his second-in-command, a full-blooded wolf anthro named Timasus. "Sir?" Luntarus looked at him. "Tell our workers to start gathering whatever wood there is. We're building a boat for 1/3 of our tribe to sail west. Father's orders." Timasus nodded. "Understood." Then, Timasus went off to give the orders. Meanwhile, Luntarus looked all around at the village. Was he really ready for this...?

It had been a long time since I had inhabited this island. It was... odd, returning to my roots. I looked down, through the island, at my people, my Mish'Na. They struggled to keep themselves alive as the Sea slowly wilted and died, removing their main food source. I had a plan to make the island more comfortable, if not necessarily luxurious, but first, I had to find out who was still alive after the King had risen, wounding and slaying many of my kind. A little wisp ascended, and through it I asked, "Who still lives after such a rampage as the King has incurred?" Meanwhile, I set about to taking stock of my children's provisions for shelter, food, and water.

And once again, the world shook, up to its very foundations. And the noise of the earth shattering resounded through the gates of the underworld, to the ears of a slumbering feline deity, which up to now has been healing his wounds from the fight with the God-King, oblivious to earthly matters.
Earth shook once more as the lynx arose and stretched himself. Then, he began rise to the surface, through paths almost as old as the surrounding earth, known only to himself and perhaps the jaguar god Tezkatl.
Once again, Horiv prowled the earth, and honestly, he wasn't impressed.

Mortal realm
In one of the hilly islands up north, something remarkable happened.... the earthquakes tearing the soil ceased, and the gaping wounds they have left in the now dry soil began to close slowly. On the surrounding isles, the situation wasn't quite as pink, but their intensity began to drop off nevertheless, with as slowly increasing  radius, centered on one of the islands' mountains.
The small populace that has remained on the island noticed something has changed... it seemed that although still violent, the earth was bound once again.
It wasn't a reason to rejoice, but life became just a small bit better.

Astral Plane
"And you aren't the only... i can barely keep the earth united at this time..."
"The King is a" *snarl* "traitor" a voice resounded in response to the knowledge god. "He tried to kill me, but the gates of my realm reach the roots of earth, and are far too mighty even for his steel. You can feel that many of us weren't so lucky... " The lynx focused on the other deity's form.
"I would have supposed though, the god of knowledge would be better informed.... "
The feline began to lick his paw...

In an island isolated by sheer cliffs, fierce wind, and turbulent waves far away from the delights of modern civilization, a tribe of people lay destitute, barely living while their world dies around them. An imperceptible feeling rolls over the isle causing a brief stir within the people. Most do not know what to make of it and lay around, confused and about to dismiss it as nothing when the elder dredged up a memory of a memory told to him by the elder before him in passing. "I know what has just happened," he said. At the age of 42, the elder was the oldest anyone had lived for several generations. Most expected he would not last much longer, but there was no disputing that he was the wisest of them all, and so the tribe gathered themselves from their despondence and began to listen as he began, "We were not always alone on this island. Once upon a time, before my grandfather's grandfather's grandfather..."

In the Isle of Ael, the spark of life had once more been kindled. It could still go out with a stray gust of wind, but perhaps that wind would instead blow it into a fiery blaze. There was only one way to find out.

---

In the plane of the gods, a mist stirred and began to gather. A voice rang out of it, reminiscent of a soft whisper. "Do not taunt The Scholar. It may have been his own inattention that let him be wounded, but wounded he has been... the core of his knowledge torn from him. I myself am... vague on what has happened. I do not know as yet who has lived and who has died save for a few, but I was one of the first to be attacked. I knew I would not succeed if I fought him and it would lead to my true demise so I instead let our would be king 'destroy' me and tear me asunder, knowing it is harder to kill one such as I than it was to kill the sun. I remember he died shortly before I did. Still, as I scattered myself instead of fight I am still alive, though as yet still scattered."

Aellor (for he was of course the mist) trailed off as a floating from drifted into the room singing of pirates and fridgons and other such things before reaching the mist which absorbed it and turned green. "Still scattered... our ex-king was a fool to attack us. If he had truly succeeded in killing me, the very world would have started to unbind and fall back into the chaos from which it came. Indeed, if any of us that survived had not, the world could very well have come undone by some means or another. It may yet do so anyway if we do not hurry. Tezkatl! I know you at least also survived. I would have felt the loss in my stars had you died... I must speak with you about creating a new sun. If any of our new/old people are to thrive and survive, they will need it soon."

I floated a careful distance from those still among the Pantheon as I started to focus a small bit more into the divine realm. "I worry more for the god of the waters. It appears as though he has lost the strength to even manifest himself here, and it frightens me. He supports my creations in their caverns below the island. I shall endeavor to find and aid him; in the meantime, it is sad to see so many of our brethren lost. I always felt akin to the Sun, that planet who shines so bright. May he find a fair progeny amidst ourselves."

The Temple

Rage still dominated Jerrel's brain. He didn't like being angry, didn't like losing his imperturbability, but the sheer GALL of it all! He had helped that ungrateful bastard, smoothed edges out of his rule, made sure that things went calmly, orderly. Above all of his fellows, HE had been the one with the most invested in the kingdom itself, and to be excoriated like that. Had it been a year? A decade? More? He remembered calling a woman in, but not her name, siring Sabathiel on her; an Appointed for the times to come. The rest was lost in a red haze.


Even now, he was only beginning to collect himself, and he did not remember how four senior priests came to be kneeling in the ordering chamber, what purpose, if any, he had in mind when he summoned them. Nevertheless, they were here now, and there was work to be done.

"We have been wantonly, cruelly betrayed, and we shall not suffer this without our retribution. It will not happen today, and it will not happen tomorrow, but we must prepare the way for it now. Go, to all the corners of Teleothial, and strengthen the people for a future war. Stores must be laid in, weapons crafted, boats wrought, people trained to march and fight in unison. It will not be quick, so we must take the first steps immediately. Hard times are coming, and we must be ready to strike. Go!  Make the arrangements, inform me if there are any problems. I will deal with them."

With a lurch, he shifted his awareness. Surely, his colleagues had felt similar shocks, and there was a place that they occasionally gathered..

The Divine Meeting-Room.

Jerrel gave out a brief pant as  he entered the 'Room', spying four survivors. Shifting his awareness again, he scrolled his perceptions backwards through time, catching up on what had transpired. Little, it seemed, and he was thankful; it was a trivial trick to look back like this, but it left him far more taxed than he was used to, becoming accustomed to his reduced stature was irritating.

Speaking to all and none, Jerrel pronounced, "we must do more than survive. I doubt that the King will be content if he learns that any of us yet live. His actions are an affront to all, Gods and Men, toiling in unison. The cancer must be cut out.  But I am weak, and with chary perception, I see that we are all weak. I do not recall. How did he drive mortal minds away from us? If we can restore that belief, we can perhaps revive our fallen brethren, or create them anew."

Mortal Realm

The boats huddled together like a small group of sheep that had been separated from the herd, as they withstood the torential onslaught of the storm. The crew had their hands full trying to keep the ships afloat, while the passengers clung to each other in some vain hope that their closeness to one and another would somehow stave off their inevitable demise. There was very little speaking, both due to the gloom of their prediciment, and the horrid wailing of the wind. But, there was very little need for words, everybody knew that they were doomed. It was all just a matter of time.

Captain Capasian Svolth was a good man, at least in his own eyes. He was fair with his dealings and earned an honest coin for it, and his bread was that of his own sweat, and his wine that of the skill of he and his men. He was by no means sacreligous but, in his time, he had sought very little from the gods that he couldn't get on his own. This storm was the worst he had ever seen, it roiled up without warning, and there seemed no end in sight. Though the ships were crowded, he had seen that they had adequate provisions, but even this was not what he was expecting when he agreed to join this group of refugees.

Capasian was a man of vision, when he heard their plight it only confirmed his growing suspicion. People were changing; not in the physical sense, but in their minds and hearts. You could fight monsters, and you could fight words, but a man could not deny his own heart, or his mind. Their only option was an exodus to the Agrian Abyss; an ancient, savage swath of small volcanic islands, all but uninhabited except for the most determined of peoples. A no-mans land that even the civilizations of the mainland had written off. It would be there these people would find a niche, and hopefully be able to forge their own lives, or die. It was the people he was thinking about as he made his way to the back of his hold as the waves outside threatened to pitch his feet from under him. He had to ask her, the seer, to intercede with the gods on their behalf. To see if she could find some way to cajole them into granting them safe passage.

She was known only as the seer, and had flaming red hair and piercing green eyes. The Seer hardly ever seem to speak, and when she it was in cryptic phrases and maddening riddles. She had been allowed on board because to do otherwise would likely invoke the wrath of which ever god whos ear she had bent. Now, with the onset of the storm, there were whispers that she was the cause of their ill will. As Capasian neared where she had taken residence, he saw that the others had abandoned the hold, prefering the overcrowding of the front over nearness to her. As he approached her, he could not help but notice that while he had to periodically brace himself on beams to remain upright, her standing form did not waver. Whatever witchcraft she practiced seemed to protect her from the brunt of the ill effects of the storm. She merely stood in the middle of a small circle of runes scratched into the floor of the hold, seemingly meditating or praying.

Masota was stretched thin. Though the man would not have seen it, she was under quite a bit of pressure. It is untrue that gods are limited to only certain domains. Gods are gods, they can exercise their powers over reality as they see fit, but some find certain "aspects" easier to manipulate than others. Whipping up a violent storm that would sink these ships yet remain small enough to be relatively out of the god of weather's sight was no small feat for the god of luck. It was taking a considerable amount of energy, that she did not have, to maintain it. Masota was burning like a candle on both ends, and soon enough there would be naught much of her than a faint memory. But, soon the pieces would be in place, and her plan would be set in motion. She would survive this, (after all what good is being a god of luck if you couldn't spit in fate's eye?) albiet very diminished, but would be in a better posistion. Yes, a much better posistion to rebuild. She looked up from her feigned meditative stance to the man before her, "Yes? Why have you come before me?"

Capasian clung to a beam to maintain his balance, "Forgive me Seer. I've interrupted your meditation only because our need is dire. We cannot last much longer in this storm, and I have come on everybody's behalf to beseech you to ask the gods to have pity on our poor souls. We do not know what we did to incur their wrath, but if there is something we can do to appease them, then we shall do it!"

Masota bowed her head as if to confer with someone, then looked back up, "Yes, the gods have their hand in this, yet they themselves are not responsible."

The man's brow furrowed, "What do you mean? That made no sense!?"

Masota's face broke into a wry grin, "There has been an upheaval amongst the gods, many have been cast down, some are mere tatters of themselves. Only one stands now, a great and terrible god who spreads like a plague. The very force from which you have run from. Do not seek him, for he will not answer your prayers. But, there is one of the few who has taken notice. She has seen you and all you have done, and the determination of all the souls stranded upon these vessels. She is willing to listen, but her price is steep, and it is only a price that you can pay."

Capasian hung his head in thought, the news was terrible indeed. The divine realm fraught with war, the prospect that he and his crew might very well find themselves damned in an underworld with no keeper, no judgement. Doomed to choke upon the dust of the nether until time ended. The only thing that seemed to stand between these people and this reality was the Seer's godess. He was a man of vision, but even he could plainly see the options folding out infront of him, "I... accept... this Goddess, what are her terms. What do I need to do to secure safety for my people?"

"and now for a bit of theatrics," Masota's entire body seemed to spasm and quake. She let loose a wild howl, which chilled the man to his bones, and collapsed to the floorboards. Abruptly she stood up, her features were more refined, and her voice had developed an etherial quality, "My dear captain, I thought you would never ask. I am called many names, but my own is Masota, and I am the goddess of Luck. I have seen your plight, but it is not within my power to prevent. I applaud your tenacity and skill, but your ships will sink, eventually. I find favor in your kind though. Swear you and your people's allegience to me, and I shall see to it that most of your people survive this storm."

Capasian stared at the possessed woman in awe, he bowed down, "I, Capasian Svolth, do hereby place myself at your feet great Masota, and do hearby swear upon the behalf of my people and I, that we will serve you till our dying breathes, that your will shall be our own, that we shall be in your service as we are needed."

Masota smiled and reached down to the man's shoulder. Where her hand rested there was a searing flash of light as the silouhette of an acorn had been branded on the man's flesh, "Arise Capasian and listened. As you 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. Not much more than a stone throw to the south is an inlet. Loose anything that can float and order the people to seek them out in the water. I cannot garuntee that all shall survive, but many will. You will find dry wood upon landing on the shore, use it to bring warmth to your people, and to explain their parts in our bargain. Warn them against disent, and remind them that they are guest upon my island. Finally, search the cliffs for a path, it should lead you to a jungle. There will be clean water and food in abundance. It will be here that we will forge our world anew." With this, Masota arched her head back, and screamed. Her voice pierced high over the wind, and the body of the Seer exploded in a flash of brilliant light.

Capasian stared in awe at the motes of light as they floated around him. He could already hear the ominous groaning of wood that was beginning to be stressed beyond its limit. A harsh whisper of, "Move, there is not much time!" snapped him out of his reverie and sent him flying to the rest of the ship to spread the word... the word of Masota.

Masota breathed a sigh of relief as she finally crushed the ships with the storm. It took a little more effort to make the currents pull the survivors of the wrecks into the inlet, but after that she let the storm blow itself out. The raging violence simmered down to a light rain, then finally to that of a dusky grey sky overshadowing the island that the survivors soon found themselves on.

The Divine Meeting Room of Middle Management

An apple peel fell from above and passed through the thin wisp that was Kesh'Noria. From above, Masota was reclining at her perch, dressed in a vibrantly colored dress, and the features of fox and squirrel. She seemed busy peeling the skin off of the fruit in her hand as she spoke, "Oh... woe is us. We are weakened, we were betrayed, what ever shall we do?" her voice dripped with sarcasm as apple peels continued to fall from her perch, "The humans foresaw this you know. But, I doubt you would have noticed. It was in their stories; not in their words, but their underlying meaning. Men, Nations, Civilizations rise and fall over petty things such as power. Should we gods be any different?"

Diety Plane

   Zaltan did not respond immediately to Horiv's words, but directed his attention to Aellor. "Thank you, Everchanging." Returning his focus to Horiv, he replied, "I am mortal knowledge, and I was not...initially aware of the event as it happened. And I have lost...nearly everything. I have been cut off from my knowledge. I am still trying to reassert myself in the mortal realm. I am having limited success, but still some." As the others obvserved Zaltan, they could tell his "in diety terms" near-insubstantial form as barely starting to "solidify".
   He then stepped back, listened, and observed as the others took stock of the situation--finding out who was alive, and who was missing.
   

Kuntorus frowned. "Are you all telling me that you have only just started to prepare for this? That you were just RECENTLY aware of what has conspired? Bah! You all are wasting time...And, as for you, Jerrel, the so-called mighty judge...What kind of faulty judgement is it for you to attack the mainland before you are completely ready? Incase you don't know, our former king has the mainland, which basically means, he controls the majority of followers. Attacking now would be SUICIDE...My respect for you was already low. This just makes it even worse."

Suddenly, the God of wilderness and Hunting growled, and turned toward the others. "None of you are even close to being prepared for this. NONE OF YOU! While I prepared for who knows how long, the majority of you have been in hiding, or worse..."

Turas tried to calm down his father. "Father, listen-"

"NO!" Then, Kuntorus groaned. "I have no more time for listening to any of you..." Then, he looked down at the game board, on his island. He was looking to see how the tribe was doing.

Jerrel did not deign to adjust his gaze, and his voice dropped in tone, though losing none of its force.

"Idiot child. Has the long hours spent guzzling blood bereft you so much that you need puts words in the mouths of others to carry your point across? We must destroy the King before he unmakes the cycles of Life and Death itself, but an immediate strike is useless. Look, if you can be bothered. My own preparations will take time to complete, and unlike yours, they are directed towards a concrete goal, each step along the way creating a benefit towards the totality.


What have you gained by splitting your folk apart? I hear your mortals whispering, gathering wood to build a boat to the west. You cannot run from apocalypse, and this storm shall not simply blow over. If you must be craven, take heart that if the rest of us fall, you will too, swallowing curses. And this problem will get worse unless we counteract it, and I suggest you get your people in line to do so."

He didn't really think that Kuntorus could truly build a coalition; it was not truly in his nature, and he was being so aggressive, combative. As for his own plans, Jerrel needed more information, current hostile information. He spun off a small fragment of his self, and built a small, balding man, with pale blue eyes and thinning hair, clad in woolens, but of a fine cut, and sent him to the old Capital, with a bit of rock and dust to make it look shiny, to sit in taverns and hear what the mortals were saying.

Divine realm

The feline god stopped washing himself abruptly. The words of Masota angered him... the main reason being that they seemed true.
*growl*
"One would have expected us, some of whom were around before the first human walked the earth, to be somewhat .... wiser... " He focused on Masuta's and Kuntorus's  form or a moment "Among the humans, there also exists another saying as Jerrel will surely confirm - "After a battle, everyone's a general"...
Indeed, the loudest accusations come from those who perhaps could have done the most... deities of hunt, luck... all could have done much to thwart the God-king's mortal armies and weaken him....  
Turning attention to Zaltan,
"Some among us insinuate that what came to pass was well within mortal knowledge.... "

His presence  became somewhat paler, the one who prowls the depths clearly becoming occupied by other matters and his form took on a curious expression

 
Mortal realm
On his island, the deity has set to work once more. Fungi begin to sprout from the dead matter all over the island, and it was due to his influence they had began growing into fleshy, edible forms instead of plain moulds - suppressing the undesirable variants had merely to do with altering soil properties around the spores but even that was somewhat taxing.
Finally...
******

Ivan, the priest of the village has been attempting to meditate and commune with the god who has protected their people since time immemorial.

Once again, he failed.

His focus was interrupted by Slavomir, one of the hunters.
"Why do you interrupt my prayer when i await a message from our Protector?" I
It felt almost like lying...  even in the times their god wouldn't respond, Ivan would at least feel his reassuring presence.
"That is it! I have seen a message! Come and let's call others too!"

Ivan walked out, and followed the hunter.
Several of his kind were there already.

A cat sat on the ground nearby, licking itself.  The only thing preventing the hunters from considering it one of the scarce sources of food was *what* it sat on.
On the ground lay an intricate image in black and white, "drawn" by layers of pale clay in the sooty soil.
On the top of it was a feline eye.
Below, a picture of a man eating a mushroom. It didn't escape Ivan's attention that a patch of similar looking mushrooms has sprouted  nearby.
Next picture showed a man bowing to a cat with a litter of kittens.
The last picture showed a mighty army in march, bearing the symbol above.
He noticed the cat walking to the patch of mushrooms, biting  one off, depositing it at his feet, and mewing at him.
Carefully, he smelled the mushroom, and bit off a piece.
It tasted surprisingly nice for a raw mushroom , and the cat below began to purr, rubbing at his legs.

He bent his knees and petted it absentmindedly, and suddenly images filled his head.
He saw the form of a huge lynx arise from the depths of earth itself, and speak to him
I am the one who prowls below. Through no fault of my own, your old god is no more, for a war among the gods has brewed. What you see is the image of a treason that shook the heavens itself.
Images of the ruins of dozens of continental cities, and the legions of the forge god turned traitor appeared to the villager.
Then, they switched back to the form he has seen before.
   Worship me , and the earth will reveal its riches to your people. Even in death you shall rejoin me in deserved rest as i rule over the realm of souls. One day, your descendants shall claim lands far bigger than is your own, as the usurper and those who follow him shall be made example from
The deity felt silent, then added in a much less impressive voice
Oh, and don't eat the cat, they are sacred!

Normal vision has returned to the man, the cat looking into his eyes with a deep stare.

Aellor turned his attention from the darkness. Tezkatl had heard him, or would hear him, and would respond in his own time. In the meanwhile there were other things to address and for a brief moment as he did so, he fractured.

---

To the ill-tempered Lodestone Lynx and the arrogant Lady Luck, the green beam of light splintered from the mist and through a series of reflections found its way over to them where it formed into a holding pattern and began to speak. "We have all been remiss in this matter it is true. All have different reasons, but all nonetheless were at fault. I myself saw this outcome among the myriad of possibilities the future could hold, but did not believe it could come to pass.

---

A white haired man with faded eyes the color of stormy skies. Behind his the mist dissipated and seemed to flow elsewhere while he addressed the gods of chance and hell. "The humans are... difficult to understand. So often they do what is not expected or that which makes no sense which while I find fascinating and is what I love most about them, means I often do not see what they do. And so it was that when the time came I was blind and did not see that which led us to our present state."

---

From absolutely nowhere in particular, a voice spoke to Masuta and Horiv. "Indeed, there was much many of us could have and can still do. I saw this outcome in the myriad of possibilities and did not act for reasons no longer known to myself. Perhaps there was no other outcome and perhaps this was simply the best, I can not fathom any more. With my power weakened, the possibilities are clouded to me now."

---

Elsewhere, a mist descended upon the Isle of Ael and began to weave the beffudlement upon it. Soon his realm would be hidden, kept away from any who might mean it harm...

   Argondan, Mortal Realm
   The seeds of knowledge grow.  The people learn quickly, as if they had already learned before.  And in short order, a man comes to prominence.  Shalt, an otherwise simple man, has learned that if a beam of wood is pried under a stone with one end, then forced downward on the other, while a rock is placed between the two points for the beam to rest on, that great loads could be moved.  The lever has come to be, and Shalt becomes hailed as a prophet.

   Isle of Hunting, Mortal Realm
   The people gather the supplies, what little can be spared, and begin the task of gathering wood for a ship.  What they end up creating is little more than a very large canoe, large enough for the people and supplies, but open to the elements.  It is weighed down with rocks, perhaps too many, to keep the waves from battering it away.  Those that are slotted to remain beg you to reconsider your decision.  To not separate them from their loved ones, when these times of death and darkness roll on.  Your son, however, trusts you implicitly.

   Isle of Mish'na, Mortal Realm
   Your children report that their supplies of drinking water are healthy, but that their food stores dwindle.  The trees are no longer in season to bare fruit or nuts, and the fish are not coming to the nets of fishermen, but fleeing to the deep waters in the open ocean.  What passes for your priests ask if they could lessen the sacrifices due to you, perhaps until the sick are well again?  Speaking of them, your island is being subject to a strange sort of disease.  People eat, and yet they grow thin as if with hunger.  They ask you to explain this to them.

   Isle of Cats, Mortal Realm
   A statue of a vague representation of yourself is being carved from a log of wood.  In the meantime, word of your generosity is spread, and five family groups have joined with Ivan's village.  More are expected.  However, an elderly man partook of one of these mushrooms, and has since died for no apparent reason.  The people cry to you, asking why this has happened.

   Teleothial, Mortal Realm
   Your priests do as they are bidden.  But the results they report are most grave.  Food and supplies are being lain down for later, what can be stored long term anyway.  But their traditional source of salt, the sea, is growing weak, and slowly lowering itself to the point where wrecks of ancient ships are becoming exposed.  They ask where to obtain more salt, and what to do with these discoveries.  What is more, disease is striking your people, and they cannot spare many men to practice fighting.

   Isle of Luck, Mortal Realm
   Your promise has held true.  Many people have lived through the ordeal, and they have begun salvaging from the wrecks what they can.  Their supplies are lessened considerably, however.  The family of those who did not survive are stricken with grief, asking you for the reason they live while their kin did not.  The Captain keeps them united as best he could, but this unity is tenuous at best.

   Ael, Mortal Realm
   Fortune favours you.  Your flame has grown to warm the hearts of those that hear and listen.  Doubt persists in the areas not directly hit by this flame, but these people have something now that they did not before.  Hope.  And they tentatively reach out to you with that hope.  Your mists are woefully ineffective, for the sea which supports them dries up ever quicker.

   Divine Realm
   Your efforts are draining you all, but the payoff is felt.  Presently, the faith you have inspired is giving you a rush of power; a pale mockery of what you once commanded, but it is power.  Those of you who have difficulty manifesting will now have some better luck, and those of you who have recently expended energy to invest more in rebuilding, you are feeling a margin of return on that investment.
   Those of you who actively attempt to spread out, and learn who has died should be dismayed at the result.  Love is dead, as is Song, the Forests, Medicine, Festival, the Sun, and...there, you feel it now.  The Sea is dead.  Mountain still lives, if somewhere beyond your sight.  Sister War has engaged the King, but she is loosing the fight.  Time...you can't feel Time's omniscient presence anymore, but linear progression has not stopped.  Make of this what you will.  Hope is burning brighter than she ever has before.  Trying to save those of your kin who fled the King to the East.  Any more who live are beyond your ability to find them.

---

   Jerrel, you hear not joy or happiness at the victory the King has won.  People mourn those that have died, and pray for those yet to die.  But those that live are those that converted to the King's following for their own survival, or his zealots.  They try to drown out the world's breaking, with wine, and food, and pleasurable company.  But the King's army is not lax.  Your child will have difficulty weaving through the defenses; their god's paranoia infects them as well.  These contradictions, and the utter chaos are burning your fragment's ability to think clearly even more.

Kuntorus sighed, as he heard what Jerrel said. "You fool...I'm going to be trying to gather the followers who support the dead goddess of festivals. Without more followers, we won't have power enough to fight against the king..."

Kuntorus growled slightly, as Aellor seemed to be accusing him of not being able to stop the king. "My efforts were...More focused on warring against one of the more beastial deities. Who may or may not be dead right now."

Anyway, as he watched what was happening on his island, he snarled alittle bit. "So, they don't believe in my plans, huh? Well, I guess I better talk to my son, then..."

-------------

Luntarus! The demi male looked up. "Father?" The people don't believe. I believe a speech is in order. "But, father-" Don't worry. You won't have to think up most of the speech. Luntarus nodded. "Alright."

Soon after, all of the people were gathered along the island coast. Luntarus stood on a rock, looking down at them. "Father has said that some of you don't believe. That some of you think my father is making a mistake. Well...You're wrong."

"Look at the island around you! This is only one of the many islands around. A testament to the hunt. This where my father first became the great and mighty embodiment, of the hunt! Who among you believes in the hunt? Who among you thinks we must have greater prey? For, if we make my Father, AND ourselves stronger, we can hunt possibly the greatest prey of all...Those traitors who would allow such disasters to happen to this world!"

"The former King of the pantheon has let this happen to the world...He has allowed the world, to get dragged down into the dirt, and more! If you have faith in what my father is my doing, you will get to receive the greatest honor of all! To bring back the hunt to it's former glory!  The king shall die, the traitors shall die, but the hunt shall live! We do this for the hunt...And for the world! So, tell me! Do you wish to allow the hunt to exist in such a wretched state? Or...do you have faith in the hunt? For we are hunters! We are Predators! We. Exist. For the hunt! Who's with me!?"

Ay, my children, how they must be starved! Communing with my most devout, I tell them, "Do not worry about sacrificing for me; so long as you do remember to be devout in all things, I shall survive." Peering inside of those who waste away, I search for life that is out of place. "And let it be known to those who are ailing, I am investigating. Soon, my people, you shall be comfortable. The work shall never cease, and your help may be necessary, but you shall not die." Moving my awareness to the realm of the divine, I moved out from under the pesky goddess of luck and asked, "Has the god of good health been found?" In the meantime, I began to build a reef close to the fishing hole, where those fish who still live after the death of the Sea might find refuge.

Kumbha had never once set foot in this meeting room, this  Divine Forum. It was always father's business. However,this room would become most vital to him and his efforts now. He still couldn't believe what had transpired. Was his brethren truly this foolish?

The new God of the Sea kicked open the door, clutching his father's gilded harpoon in his right hand, the tip wet with fresh blood. "The Lord of the Seas is Dead." He proclaim, eyeing the others.

That imbecile Zaltan survives?! I would have figured his slumber would have doomed him.

Making his way to the table, Kumbha glanced at Kuntorus, then gave a long, hard glare at Horiv. His father had never seen eye to eye with the beast, due to their conflicting kingdoms. And besides, why would a God take such a hideous form?!

"I hear by claim my Father's Domain, his Titles, his temples and worshipers, and all that belonged to him as my own."

He leaned on the table, taking a mental note of Islands, pointing to a rather small rock, as if to claim it.

"...any objections to my Reign? I will only tolerate such insults now, so please, get it over with and off your chests. Preferably in my presence."

He then fell silent, as if awaiting the coming storm.

Kuntorus sighed as the newcomer entered the room. "Oh, joy...Pirani's spawn. Well, as long as you don't do anything with the sea that interferes with us gaining more power, I don't have any PARTICULAR problems. Also, that's the dead God of Song's island. The sea island is over here." Then, he pointed to another part of the map.

Then, looking at Kesh, he replied with, "The god of medicine, if that's who you mean, is dead. There might not be any good healers for a while...Unless, you want to try doing something to yourself that would cause another God of Medicine to come into existence. I've never actually had any children that way. Well, there was one, when I had a bad back, but, I'm not quite sure he's still alive."

"You insolent brat!" a voice rang out from a nearby alcove and a pair of glowing dark blue eyes stepped out of the shadow. "Just because your father never loved you doesn't mean you can be an ass to the rest of us and expect us to not care."

"You two-faced, traitorous PRICK!" exclaimed a fracture of cracks in a nearby wall. "You couldn't stop with killing your father, could you? You fancy yourself better than the rest of us? You think you can do a better job? Well news for you since apparently bright ideas don't reach you at the bottom of the ocean, but we cannot afford an amateur at the wheel."

"You coward! Hiding in your under sea palace while the rest of the world crumbles around you will not save you when the end comes. You have only bought yourself another year at most before the destroyer tracks you down. Your fate will be the same as the rest of us!"

"I'm just here because all my other possible future selves are here! I have no significant complaints and felt left out!"

"I have had it up to HERE with your terrible fashion sense! It's tacky, it clashes with itself, it's unoriginal, and you NEVER wear ANYTHING else!"

"Enough with the narcissism complex! You are SO full of yourself, I am not even kidding! Maybe if you'd get off your high horse every once in a while and stop wearing all that jewelry you'd be more bearable. You are such a DRAMA queen too! Not to mention other kinds of 'queen'... no straight man wears that many rings. Not that I mind, but just come out of the closet already!"

Countless other voices identifiable as versions of Aellor rang out blending in with each other like so many grumbles of thunder to the point where you could no longer make out any individual voices and the whole spectacle just sounded and started to look like a literal storm of complaints. After some time the voices died down as the complaint-bearers began to filter out and remaining eyes centered on the true Aellor. There was a moment of silence as if everyone was waiting for the currently ordinary looking white haired man to speak. He looked around at all the eyes staring at him and paused for a moment before saying, "No thanks... I'm good for now I think. Thanks for the rain check though." He gave a mildly lame looking thumbs up in Kumbha's direction and smiled.

Ariel brushed herself off, still shaken by the experience. By some miracle they'd been thrown free with nary a scratch. She gazed over at the splintered stump of the great tree and the empty crevasse where the bridge they'd been crossing once stood. The whole forest was dying, rotting from within just like the rest of the world.

"Auntie! Aunt Myrtle, are you alright?" She helped her aunt to her feet.

Her aunt rubbed a sore forehead. "Goodness, child. I'm getting too old for this sort of thing." Suddenly she gasped and became very pale.

Ariel turned. At first, she couldn't believe her eyes. "Papa? Papa! Is that really you?"

He held out his arms, and she ran to embrace him. "Oh, sweetheart." He hugged her tight, stroking her long golden hair. "I missed you so much."

She pulled back to look into those soft, kind brown eyes once more. "What... how is..."

"What sorcery is this?" Myrtle made a sign to ward him away. "We buried you and Bella two winters ago! And you return bearing the sign of false idols?" She directed an accusing finger to the silver crescent on his chest. "Begone foul spirit! The One True God will smite you for sure!"

Papa sighed. "Your One True God is a spoiled brat who'd rather rule a dead world alone than share a thriving one. He has no hold over us. Not anymore."

"Blasphemy!" Myrtle frowned and began wringing her hands. "If we go to temple now, there's still time to make penance..."

"Oh, Myrtle..." Papa shook his head. "You are far beyond the domain where his priests have any sway."

"Papa, what are you say--oh god... oh gods..." Ariel broke away and inched ever closer to the edge of the cliff, but she couldn't bring herself to look down, afraid of what she might see. "We're dead, aren't we?"

Her father gently nudged her away from the edge. "I'm sorry, Ariel. You were taken from the world far too young. But your mother will be so happy to see you again." He reached out his hand. "You too, Myrtle. She even misses your nagging."

Myrtle backed away. "No. No! This is wrong..."

"There's nothing left for you here, Myrtle. And I'll bet you haven't tasted Bella's moonberry pie in ages. Besides, the One Who Prowls the Depths keeps his domain much warmer and cozier than this cold, dying land."

"No more of your false gods! I must make penance! There's still time..." Aunt Myrtle turned and fled towards the village.

Ariel moved to follow her aunt, but Papa caught her arm. "If you don't come now, I cannot remain with you. My time here is short. Even now, the Betrayer hunts us."

Her eyes widened. "What will happen to her, Papa?"

"If she doesn't come to her senses? She'll become another lost soul, doomed to wander the land between life and death. There are too many now who reject the Soulbearer when their time comes, either from fear of their One True God or the foolish belief that he might yet save them. More still die so deep in his strongholds that even the Wayfinder cannot reach them."

"We can't leave her like this." In that instant, she knew that she'd made her decision, and it tore at her heart. "Papa, I can't come with you. If what you say is true, then I'm all she has left."

Her father smiled and hugged her close, tears in his eyes. "That's my girl. Here. Take this." He removed his crescent amulet and fastened it about her neck. "When you're ready, call my name." He kissed her on the cheek. "I'll tell your mama to keep a pie warm for you. Farewell, sweetheart."

As he faded away, she realized she was no longer looking into her father's face. She was looking into the face of a god.




Itztli sat crosslegged under the sacred rock in the birthplace of the Night, where the god Tezkatl gave man the gift of Dreams. His ancestors had erected a great stone henge around the monolith, untouched throughout the generations. No weeds crept over these hallowed grounds. The trees bowed in reverence, flowers glistening in moonlit bloom. Shimmering foxfire wreathed the boundaries of the forest. Even the wind paid its respects to this holy place.

One by one, all the nahual of his tribe assembled. Coyotes, eagles, serpents, jaguars... they arrived wearing the flesh of the spirits, as was custom. Fur, feathers, scales, and fangs melted from their skin as each of them stepped between the stones, and they joined the circle as men.

"You have all received the dreams." It was not a question. None who had walked with spirits would ignore the Dreamlord's call.

"We must ready our boats and journey to the islands of the fallen gods. We will take our sacred seeds to them and return our lost brethren to the fold. It is written in the stars."

"But the sea has gone mad. Will the new Keeper of the Waves allow us passage?"

"We are the Children of the Night! We are warriors!" Itztli stood and drew his obsidian blade. "We will face whatever challenges cross our paths. We have lost our songs. We have lost our dance. Our lives are all we have left to offer our god!"

The circle erupted in a chorus of cheers and animalistic howls.

"The followers of the fallen will receive dreams of our coming. They will come to know us as brothers and sisters."

"But they have not walked with spirits. They may not even know how to read their dreams."

Itztli pointed his sword towards the heavens. Moon and stars danced across the blade.

"Then we will teach them."




A bright blue sun whizzes by your heads and settles into orbit around the room. The sky-spanning jaguar is toying with miniature suns of various colours, batting them around as if they were balls of yarn.

"Blue. What do you think of blue? It's rather fetching, isn't it?" He pounces on the blue sun and rolls it around in his paws. "No, you're right. It needs to contrast more with the sky. Perhaps a little purple..."

The night panther yawns and stretches out. He curls up and sighs, using the flaming purple orb as a pillow.

"Would that I had spawned a new day star already if such power were within my grasp. My consort and son are gone forever. I cannot just remake them." He cocks his head, aware that this second piece of information may be news to some of you. "Yes, Time is shattered. He dispersed his power into the universe before falling to the Betrayer. I have spent many moons trying to collect the remains. Even now, my followers journey to the islands of Sun and Time to reclaim what is left of their earthly power."


It is rare to see new faces in this place. Most of you have always been here. When the newest member barges in, the Lord of Night and King of Dreams smiles a Cheshire cat smile.

"Welcome, young one. Your Father sends his regards. I delivered his soul to the Underworld this morning."

Argondan, Mortal Plane

  With the discovery of the lever, it was dutifully recorded on a stone tablet. The tablet was then taken by the deepest thinkers of the tribe, and taken to the island's one and only Temple, which was also the first Library. Well, it was a Temple and Library in name. White the best structure on the island, it was still quite crude; being a large hut made of cut stone blocks, with some wooden shelves inside housing all the stone tablets with recorded information.
  But it was a symbol nontheless.
  More people among Argondan learned from the tablet that recorded the first lever, with the prophet Shalt leading the efforts. Some made it bigger, some made it smaller, some tried to combine two levers at once. Evenever someone had significant success, the brought their finding back to the Library-Temple, and recorded it for all to use. Meanwhile, the group of islanders attempting to recreate the leathery but solid substance they saw when they recieved visions of books and scrolls proceeced as they pulped different plants on the island, trying to find just the right formula.
  Elsewhere, Zaltan felt slightly less pain.

Diety Plane

  Zaltan still felt a sense of great weakness, being more cut off from his domain than any of the other gods, but he felt a smidgen of the weakness soothen. He continued to watch the other gods as they discussed what happened...and began to turn angry at each other.
  With calm indifference, Zaltan, in his form of a heavy-robed scholar, strode into the "center" of the congregation, as much as their could be a "center" to this demiplane of anything.
  With a soft, nonconfrontational voice, Zaltan simply said "Enough." His focus was on all of them and none of them, even as he addressed others specifically.
  "Everchanging, as you stayed taunting directed at me, I must ask you to stay your own tongue. Do not taunt the Keeper of the Waves. Masked Judge, Great Predator, Keeper of the Waves, we cannot squabble over petty details."
  Zaltan summons an 'image' of the world. Being an image by deities for deities, it contained everything that was happening in the entire world at once, from the largest storm to the smallest ant, all of which the gods were capable of percieving. "My kin, hear me. Let us begin with what we all know. The God-King has committed a terrible deed out of madness. With his great power, he single-handedly eliminated many of our number. No one of us can possibly hope to stand against him." In the representation of the world, images and symbols of the other gods appeared, which then fade away, one by one.
  "But he thinks he may perform all the tasks of the world himself, but despite his great power, this is not true. The world is broken. He may be greater than any of us, but he is not absolute." On the image of the world, darkness reigns. Once-great monuments crumble, natural forces spin out of control, and people flock to the God-King for some measure of comfort, a pittance compared to what they should have.
  "We cannot hope to stand against him along." Zaltan repeats. "And he did bring us all down...but it was in succession. One after another. When we were unprepared." Zaltan brings their archipelago into greater focus.
  "We are weak. We are fewer than we should be. But we are not yet gone." Over the archipelago, the influence of each othe remaining gods is shown, in unique colors only the gods can see, and ways only the gods can percieve. The colors are strong, and they show how each god affects whatthey touch, but...there's something missing about them. The influnce is then shown to grow, past their core islands, over the see, to other patronless islands, and continuing on until they begin meeting each other...but instead of a clash, each continues on. They mix. They mingle. They become one. Two gods bring their power together over two islands, feeding off one another and propelling each other to greater power. Every sphere grows until they all cover the archipelago, but now there's something different. There is rainbow of all the cosmic colors, yet in a way that it seems a single, solid color. There is a sense of unity. Of unshatterable strength.
  "The God-King brought us low because, even at our greatest heights, we were divided. There is only one way we can hope to right the wrongs he has done. We must set aside all our differences, and we must abandon the idea that mortals must choose one god above others. We must band together, strengthen each other. Our mortals must learn this as well. They must learn to bring all of us into their hearts. First, the mortals of our origin mys be properly tended, brought up to a level where they are strong and sure, rather than the scattered, powerless wretches they are now."
  In the representation of the world, the mass of the combined influence of all the gods then pushes forward from the archipelago, towards the mainland. Where the combined mass met darkness, the darkness fled like the broken lies it was, and a foothold was gained. "Then. Only then, will we all be ready to take on the God-King together."
  The representation vanishes.
  "But for now...we cannot affect each other. We cannot affect the areas under dominion of the God-King. We cannot even affect our own cores like we used to. For now...we must retreat. We have all suffered, and we must nurse our wounds. We must strengthen our own people. And...those of us who can, we must try to re-fill the niches once filled by kin murdered, find the remains of them, and combine contibuted portions of our essences to revive them, although in a new form. Then, we can see about our mortals expanding themselves to reach out to others. We can only hope to give them the wisdom of unit as well.
  "And the Fractal God did speak one truth. Our fate will be the same, no matter what. If we work together for prosperity and unite against the God-King, we will endure. If we do not do this...if we do not work together...if we do not stop hating each other...then our fate will still be the same.
  "We will all perish."
  Zaltan finally stepped back, finally done. the entire time, he spoke softy and matter-of-factly, not providing any hostility. He returns the majority of his focus to his own people, though of course a small fragment of himself is left behind to hear what the others do next.

 

Divine realm

The one who prowls the depths  viewed the "sea god" with as much contempt as a massive feline could muster.
When the last echo of Aellor's voices died out, the lynx god spoke.
"Many here have wondered why are the oceans unattended... apparently, the new Sea god has been busy looting shipwrecks for tacky jewelry...  Oh well, i should be glad that the new deity of the sea pays me such homage"
The feline shifted, gazing straight into the sea god's eyes.
"Tolerate... or what?  *growl* Will you threaten to ram that toothpick through us like you did to your father, or shall you try and pour the puddle  you rule over at our lands instead? You are nothing compared even to your father and any one of us here could rid the world of yet another traitor"
But for now, you are safe here for we don't shoot the messenger."
Suddenly he noticed the black jaguar god, playing with several luminous spheres. The feline grew rather agitated, crouched as if preparing to leap, and began to make clicking noises at the miniature suns.
Why do the sky deities always get the best toys, anyways?
As Tezkatl spoke on, it became clear that Horiv's followers shall live on mushrooms for quite a long time on - he apparently isn't able to put a new sun together just yet. As the feline god pondered the implications something even more unpleasant reached the ears of the Watcher of Souls... *HISS*
"What? You delivered him this morning to... He left a spirit and.... to the underworld"
Once again the earth deity looked at Kumbha, this time with a hateful expression.

The faint sounds of insects began to intrude into the divine hall, along with a rhythmic series of sharp clacks. Cicada cries and the drone of wasps filled the air as Gys' avatar lumbers through the threshold, hoisted aloft on giant arachnid legs piercing through his cloak. The bestial deity pauses briefly to pivot his hood towards Kuntorus. For a moment, snake rattles are added to the cacophony – but the monster's distraction is fleeting. He approaches the divining pool at the room's center and speaks with a raspy whisper,

"..Stolen.. and abused. Now, when they are needed.. most. Short-sighted.. murderers..! Our sister's forests lay dying, and my songbirds.. have fallen silent. Not even the light of dawn remains.." The soud of creaking wood, like the bow of a great tree bending, escapes his hood. He seems crestfallen for a time before remembering himself, and slowly looks around the room. When his attention falls on Kumbha, his form turns and approaches. Gys looms near the new sea deity for a moment before grumbling.

"Boy," he hisses derisively, "do you think that all it takes to be a God and fill your father's throne is a holy weapon and a bad attitude? ... Hrrrmmmmm ..." He sizes the young god up for a moment before continuing. "..For your father's realm, I once made a great Leviathan, that even the most arrogant and skilled of the world's mariners might fear his ire. You presume to take his place – so prove it. Tame the beast, and bring it to bare against your enemies. Perhaps that will prove your right to godhood in your people's eyes. And ours." Eventually, Gys relents to stare into the divining pool.

"Such uproar over such a fragile man!" I observed the soul of the Lord of the Deep for a time. "He has the potential to be a decent god, although his methodology will be atrocious, if his rise to power is any indication. Were Time about, we could get a truer answer. Ah, but life!" The news of the death of Medicine was sorrowful, but could not be helped. With a sigh, I continued, "Brethren, for now, I shall take my leave. I must take some time and decide upon what I shall proceed with next. Control of devotion is not one to hold much sway over the physical realm." And with that, I regathered myself and thought.

Kuntorus frowned at Zaltan. "Mortals can often not follow more than one master...Nor can mortals often follow multiple callings. Hunters are not often beings that seek after various kinds of knowledge, nor do Scholars often try to learn the way of the hunt. Perhaps there might be a day when this might change...But, for now, we should focus on finding other ways to make ourselves stronger."

Just then, insect sounds came into the room. Kuntorus groaned. "Please tell me that's not-" Then, he heard the sound of Gys' voice. "Gys...I hoped to not hear or see you again until I had more followers........Or at all. Then again, you DO provide some of the greatest challenges one could possibly hope to hunt."

The Mainland

Jerrel made his outrider wander into a deserted alley, and then dissolved the thing into mist. He was sure that sooner or later the King would be able to notice it, and he didn't want his spy eliminated, it would hardly be fatal, but Jerrel knew he needed to hoard all of his power for the days to come. Furthermore, it lent him a little bit more power, more awareness in the meeting room, and more divinities were arriving, although too few, too few.

Kumbha especially was troubling. Jerrel had thought he had little personally to fear unless the world itself died. Even the authority the King wielded over his followers nourished him somewhat, though it was bitter fare. But Kumbha..... If Gods could be supplanted, order would always exist, but the thought of another usurping his Domain was...... troubling. That one would bear watching, though they needed a Sea-God too much.

The Temple
Structured thought was becoming easier, even if the problems weren't. His realm was of men, not the forces of nature; but he could not be seen to lack an answer. He stretched his memory back to old disputes, to see if there was anything  that could help. A few tidbits were all that surfaced, and he bade his clergy to instruct the people to gather seawater in clay vessels and to boil away the contents. All fresh water was to be boiled as well before being drunk, it would ameliorate the plague somewhat.

The Divine Meeting-Room
It was good to see others join. Gys, especially, would be helpful in the current straits. Something to impact the hardiness of the surviving people..... Perhaps there was a way to pool power, Zaltan would be the best for delving into such a matter.


Jerrel smiled ruefully at    Kesh'Noria. "Were time about, he could employ that temporal fugue trick of his, slay the King before this got out of hand, and patch up the consequences. Sadly, we mus make do with what we have."

Jerrel stood, facing the others, encompassing all of them in the sweep of his visage. "Hail and well met, Kumbha. It is good to see that at least some remnant of old Keeper of the Waves. These are extraordinary times, and we must make of them what we can."

"And furthermore," he continued, now addressing all assembled, "Old Zoltan has a point; we are inextricably bound to the state of the world, and will likely all live or die together. It will likely not be easy, or pleasant, and I for one admit there will always number among you ones I detest, but we must be able to at least work together. We must strategize, plan for the future."

"As I see it, our first and foremost goal is continuing our own survival. This, in turn, means that we must all have a stable base of worshipers to keep us sustained. Medicine is missing, and unless we can stop the plagues, the followers of the world will be too scattered and few to sustain any following. More troublesome, is that old Sun seems to be dead. I think we all realize that without him, our world will freeze, and there shall be nothing but barren ice from horizon to horizon until the end of days. If we cannot restore him, we must find some other way to warm the bones of the earth.  While it is true that we cannot probably share mortals, we should preserve the ones that remain, and try to lure followers back on the mainland. If we restrict our influence to these islands, I worry that we will not have the might to stand against the coming darkness.

We must also protect ourselves from outside threats. I speak of, of course, the King. He is too mighty to confront directly as it is, but the lands he usurped are vast, and he cannot possibly guard it all himself. I thus propose we split into two groups, one to fix the ailing of the world, and the other to forestall direct strikes from the King as best we can. We should all put forth what we are best equipped to do in pursuit of that common good, utilizing our own diverse talents. To minimize conflicts, we should try to avoid joint projects, we are all mighty, all proud, and not keen to submit to anything other than the totality of the Pantheon.


I will go first. My abilities lie in the realm of perception and influence; many are tied inextricably into the behavior of men. I cannot stop the plagues, I cannot revive the sun. However, my mortals are relatively numerous and very well organized, if there is any task that needs human hands to accomplish, I can set my followers on it; they will toil with dedication, if not necessarily immediate skill. For my own efforts, they would probably be best employed on the offense. The King must have followers, indeed probably several layers of followers, I can make them more loyal to each other and less recognizing of his own authority, make him deal with an uprising from below. It would be just, I think, if he was overthrown in turn, though I do not place my hopes there. And whatever voices are crying blasphemy, that it was wrong to turn away from the Gods of their fathers, I will strengthen them."

Jerrel paused, noting that for the first time he could remember, his voice was hoarse. Damn weakening effects. He gave a brief wave. "Those are my plans, how will the rest of you be handling the crisis?"

Mortal Realm

"They despair," Capasian spoke to the shadow beside him, "they question why they were saved over the others; families have been divided, some even shattered till only one member remains. What do I tell them? What was your reasoning?"

The shadow seemed to grow darker, "I did not choose who amongst you should die, I merely gave your people the chance to survive. My methods are my own, do not seek to understand them, much less explain them. But, let it be known, I am not a cruel god. It is not by my power that I feed you, provide shelter for you, or protect you. Instead, for those who look for food, I provide sustenance, for those who build homes, I provide shelter, and for those who look to themselves for protection, I armor against the ravages of this world. By providing this edge, I can ensure that your luck shall be good. But, remember, for all the good luck I can provide, nothing is guaranteed." the shadow seemed to shift, "Tell them that their family members that died did not die because they had blasphemed or angered me in any way. That their deaths were an unfortunate price paid to the god of the sea to ensure the survival of the rest."

Capasian hung his head low, "This I shall do, but they are angry, hurt, and afraid. While we have food and water to survive the elements, we may very well not survive each other."

Masota nodded, "Very well, search amongst your people for seven souls who can move men with words, and themselves dedicate to their fellows. I do not care their age, race, or gender. Gather them up, and head north into the jungle taking supplies with them for a weeks journey. Walk for three days until you reach a spring; as long as you remain together you will not fall prey to false direction or beast. But, only these eight, no others. For the others, you should leave a trusted person to stay behind, and find something constructive to do for them. I will let you use your imagination with this. All will be explained further at the spring."

Divine Boredroom.

Masota yawned as she listened to the petty squabbles between the deities between themselves. They would need to work together to topple the God King, though she doubted it would be as cut and dry. She flicked the apple core behind her, it disappeared without a trace. And she got to work.

"Now, children, we must play nice." she chided them, "It is obvious that none of you have put much thought to plans for the future, the immediate future. We all may want to bring down the King, but that is neither here or now. We are scattered on the winds and, if you cannot even bear proof of your recovery in influence and power, I see very little reason to even discuss cooperating. Perhaps we should focus on our own lands, our own people, and tend to the world as we can for the time being."

Mortal Realm:
Volare looked at the island of the mortals who prayed to him. He have given them  dreams of a better life and planted visions for better larger boats in the minds of there ship builders on the outer villagers on the inner part of the islander he had shone home makers how to better use the fallen trees of their forest. They were making progress but there was much more to be done. He wanted to teach them farming but he only knew the basics. There had to be a deity here that did this already. Finding his head clergy sitting in his favorite rock near the just out into ocean in piousness.  Diving into the water Volare surfaces beside him in the form in which they had met during his adult test. "greetings young one. I would have words with you" he said giving the gray haired elder a vision the conversation was brief and the young ones  major concern was summed up in the question. " what more do you want of us of lord?" the answer was like was simple. " I want the people to grow and prosper. To go out into the world and see it not only for what it is but for what it could be."  Volare took his leave have intent on finding help so that his people and the world they live in would grow and prosper.

The relms of the gods.

Volare appeared in this worlds gods plane. He has avoided it for a long time but now it is necessary. The ones he seeks are near and he must be willing to deal with them he walks to and beyond the edge of there perceptions until he stood among them neither humble nor arrogant. "Greetings. I seek and understanding as to what has happened here and insight as to how we may go about fixing this poor shattered world." His perception narrows searching through the assembled deity's to finds the ones he needs. Farming and Metal working are among the top on his list followed by medicine and literature. He can sense much from they. They are working hard harder then he has been for this island. This world is their home and he can respect. There were born here and they would likely die here but is not his concern. His concern is a little island on this world where he can even now hear prayers for guidance issuing forth. This madness has to end

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.

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.

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.

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.

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."

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?"

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.

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.

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.

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.

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."

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.

   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.

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.

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.

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.

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...

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."

"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."

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...

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."

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.

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

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.




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.

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.

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.

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?"

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

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...

"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.

Diety Plane

  Az Zaltan had most of his attention focused on his followers, he was suddenly jerked back to the realm of his kin.
  So it seemed, the Sun was dead, and could not be re-formed right away. In the meantime, Tezkatl had created many celestial eggs that would be nurtured and used to combine into a new Sun, and began giving them out to each of the gods.
  Zaltan accepted his hesitantly. Being the most inexperienced of the gods, he wasn't quite sure what to do with it yet. For the moment, he folded it away into himself, and tried to do what was said; just putting a little of his energy into it.
  He checked on his followers once more. They seemed to be starting to get on their feet...but their stored food wouldn't last, and they couldn't cut down too many of the fruit and nut bearing trees for when they come in season again. Something needed to be done about that.
  Zaltan whispered to Gys directly. "I require some small assistance, Breath of Life." Zaltan said. "The only plants which bear edibles on the island of my people are trees, which they must cut down for construction materials. I know that seeds of plans can sometimes be spread by animals, and so I will make sure several such seeds are picked up by a flock of birds that will fly over my island, where the seeds will fall off. The only help I need from you is to ensure that the seeds take root properly, so that they can be discovered and harvested by my people. Can you do this small thing for me?"

Argondan, Mortal Plane

  With a functional version of paper created, the few dedicated recorders of the tribe began to transcribe information from the stone tablets to the parchment, freeing up space in the Library-Temple (and making it so people don't have to lug around the heavy tablets anymore.)

the realm of gods.

"My request Horiv to put it simply is I want you to bring some of the lava flowing beneath my island volcano closer to the surface to warm the land of my island. A few hundred feet should be close enough to warm my people and keep the vegetation alive. If you like I can help guide the lava especially near a few underground water reservoirs to turn them into how spring."  "I will return the favor at request"  Volare smiled thinking about how he would tell his people of the earth deities help. It would reinforces the concept of being kind and helping those in needed even though in this case they would be the ones in need being helped.

Isle of kindness.
Volare was glad to see that he cold weather travel wear have taken root with his peoples villages. Even so he wanted to do more. He looked towards the sky. The comet that he'd summoned shore be getting close by now. For a time it would give his people light to see by. He just hoped it got here before the festival celebrating the island people discovering there faith started.  He looked down beyond the ground and the soil and rocks until he saw the lava flowing under his island and then there  cradles snuggles was his sun egg. How he missed holding it but the god of fire was right then needs hew and power as much as they need love and guidance. He would watch over his egg as if it were one of his children. Even more so since this was a child that couldn't call for help

Island of Luck
   The mortals are cowed by your display and wordsmithing.  They give their worship to you, and you feel it  soothe the ache your earlier use of power expended.  A paltry balm, but it is a start.  Once you have completed with them, they return to the colony will all speed.  However, while they have been gone many things are happening there.  A charismatic new voice speaks to them, telling them they were wrong to turn from their One God, and to now look how low their distrust has laid them.
   
Isle of Fire/Sanctuary
   Your mountain is tired.  So many uncontrolled eruptions have caused a noticeable drop in the magma flow.  However, the Anchor keeps your island safely on top of the hot spot, and thus active.  The egg begins to leech energy off of the fire within.  Already, this proximity has caused it to develop the precursor of intelligence-you can feel fiery passion emanate from it.

   Your megalith is complete, and the people rejoice in seeing their work finished.   A burst of faith gives you a moment of stable power, but you will need to raise more such edifices to gain a consistent source of these bursts.

Isle of Victory
   Your people set to work immediately but many do not quite what you mean 'victory that is not success'.  These people are quite less intelligent and wise than what you've previously had to deal with, so you may want to rephrase the edict. But they do map the surrounding terrain in short order, and many marriages are arranged to strengthen the  breeding population.

Isle of Time
   Clocks and calenders take time to make, but the mortals learn swiftly.  They are distracted by the arrival of a group of strangers.  Those claiming to serve the Moon.  Relations are tense between them, as many of your youths are distrusting.  Food and water are given begrudgingly.

Ael
   Your words are being headed, if reluctantly.  Feel free to continue your story.

Isle of Cats
   Ivan hides beneath the tree for a bit, but soon after goes to the village to ask what is happened.  Nobody knows anything, and they gather at the base of your statue, pleading for help and guidance.  They are very deeply afraid.
   The raw power the egg absorbs from the shifting of the Earth's crust gives it might.  You feel the power of an emotion emanate from it.  The patient, uncaring, grind of willpower.

Teliothial
   Boats are being constructed, crude canoes of great size.  But they will be done in a few weeks.  The priests work on memorizing the map you have left behind, lacking the knowledge of how to carry the guide with  them elsewhere.

Isle of Kindness
   The people are rewarded for their joint faith in kindness and in the Earth.  They have found onyx!  A stone they thought lost forever more.  Great slabs of onyx have been found in the old caves, revealed after the last of the tremors broke down a wall.  What specimens they can carry are brought to the alters, to be offered to Kindness and the Earth for their blessing.  The comet is just skirting the atmosphere, producing light, but bringing it any further will require the consent of Tezkatl.

Argondan
   The transcribing goes well.  With practice, they are creating new, better methods for producing the paper.  Shalt has also given them a task, finding that a particular type of rock to be both pleasing to the eye, and durable-he has put the task of carving a representation of you from this rock he has named Granite, after the last prophet of your cult in their oral history.

Isle of the Sun
   The egg is worshiped already.  The people once again feel the shining brightness that defined their culture before.  An expedition is planned, to take the egg up to the old Sun's shrine, where the high priest will tell it of the epics and greatness of both parents, while the faith from those below feeds it.  Even from afar, Tezkatl, you feel the echo of your consort's mind developing around the egg, presently radiating pride.

The Mainland
   Jerrel's journey has brought him to War's battlefield.  Here, the two armies clash in a series of skirmishes, neither having the numbers to mount an outright assault.  But for their gods, it is a different story.  Titanic figures stamp across the landscape, the four armed, green skinned Sister War, fighting valiantly against the even more massive Bronze King.  War is faster than He, but He is stronger than She.  The noncombatants aiding War's warriors are survivors of Aellor's wanderers, and some of Hope's folk.  As you watch, War suddenly gains the upper hand for a moment, as four radiant orbs piece the King through his chest, and distract him.  But all five are cast aside with a wave of raw power.

Divine Meeting Area
   The eggs continue to develop.  Aellor's feeds on some energy, as does Zaltan's.  But presently they have not grown as much as the other three.  In time, however, that will change

The Beacon
   Oshye joins the conversation, just as the Four Seasons leave Hope's side.  From her torch, she takes a ribbon of flame, then traps it in a crystal lantern.  "Take this beacon to the lighthouse on my island, and it will give Hope to those who need it."  The flaming crystal floats to you, and she turns to smile brightly at Oshye.  "To what does this lowly confederacy owe this visit, My Lord?"

The Warrior
   Sister War considers you from beneath her helmet.  She solidly grips the dagger impaling her hand, tears it out, and roughly tosses it at you.  "There.  A token to aide you in this..."  She pauses as the Four Seasons manifest alongside her, and Oshye joins the conversation.  "Victory, I had thought you lost."

The Sea
        Outside the chain of islands, a creature stirred at the ocean depths.  The rumblings had awoken it, and it found that it was now hungry.  It did not take long to reach the surface, it was simply that large.  The great sail along its back pierced the water, and parted the clouds above.  It passed many shells of islands on its way...ah, there.  Festival's folk were always filling.
Woe be unto the people of this island, for the Leviathan had come to feed.

A sun. A kingly gift.

Victory thought, and thought, and thought some more - his people were an unsophisticated people, and he expected it would take them many years to worry out his scriptures. He did not expect them to understand, not yet.

What do do with this sun?

He sent a whisper to his  Chosen, calling in her ear. "I send to your people a gift - the light restored, ye people who Walked Before the Sun - now walk beneath it, and be warmed."

And he placed it in the sky above them, and gave unto it half his power.

And to his people, to aid them, he went, and walked amongst them unseen, granting them victory through his presence, and to them he bent the other half of his power, aiding them however he might, that they might prosper and grow.

***

Victory knees to Hope, and gingerly takes the crystal lantern from her. "A gift greater than the sons of the Moon, my lady. I will bear it safely to its destination, and hope shall kindle in every heart. "

He paused, looking up at her. "Will you not reconsider, and join us in the sea? Thou art hope - and you are needed where you are, but yea, our cause is meager, our chances slim, and our need for you also great."

***

Oshye grins, gesturing at himself with both arms out. "Beaten, yes, but never defeated, my lady. And I see you have been hard at work." he sidled closer, smiling. "That sheen of sweet, the smell of blood and battle - my lady has been busy, in her dance of death, it seems. I have never seen you so lovely as now. But you are wounded." he took her hand, the one that had been maimed, and kissed it. He had no power to heal it, only comforts, but he did so all the same. "And you wound me by staying in the mainland. Lost Causes are my job, remember?"

He gestured with his head behind him. "Join us, in the great sea. I can tell you, Victory does not lie in fighting him now, at the apex of his strength and our weakness, but by rebuilding from the ashes, together, all against the Mad Bronze Tyrant. This fighting, it is a battle that cannot be won - and will lose you the war. Join us."

* * *

Oshye carried the lantern to Hope's Isle, and placed it in the great lighthouse there - the Light of Hope, to all who need it.

Borvania (Cursed Isle of Blessings)

Masota parceled out her energy into multiple avatars, and sent them about their duties waiting to act until the final command was issued. Each sent to track down some essence of the energies she needed. Life, Fire, Air, and Death. They were to be watched for the time being, but with preparations to take them should they not be given freely. The developing matter in the camp would be dealt with, soon.

Time to see what the rest of this bunch was doing.

Divine Room of Thumbtwiddling

The form of Masota formed back onto her branch. Gone now was the look of mild amusement but replaced with the steely countenance that of a hawk surveying the field before her, as if searching for prey to swoop down upon. She saw the eggs on the nest; a weak and fractured plan, but not without its uses. She made note of the eggs from where she lay, the general size, shape, and observable weight of them. She was certain that she could glamor something in the place of one. If anything it could serve as a suitable contribution of life. But still, she needed to send out feelers, to probe the rest to see who would cooperate, and what she would need to appropriate.

Twas always the problem when you had to cross into other people's domains.

Masota disappeared from her perch, and reappeared walking towards the nest, "So," she plucked on of the eggs up and turned it over in her hands, "this is our grand scheme to reignite the sun, our ONLY scheme?" she let the emphasis on the word "only" linger.

Borvania

The speaker in the meeting area had just finished another tirade against the new god, when all sound seemed to be muted, as if heard through thick cotton pillows.

"Look to your god." her voice broke through the muffled silence as Masota seemed to step out of nowhere, "Now, back to me. Now back to your god. Now back to me. Sadly, he isn't me. He wouldn't have saved these people from those wrecks. Look down. Back up. Where are you? You're alive and on my island. What's in my hand?" she held up her hand cupped with glittering dust, "Its your lives, and I'm offering them to you, Now look again." she clenched her fist causing the dust to explode in a small cloud of sparks and motes of light, "This is what I offer to those who dare impugn upon my hospitality. Watch what you preach mortal, for I am always listening." Masota then faded away as she let sound revert to normal, lingering to hear what the dissident said.

Physical Plane:

Hour after hour passed. Days, even. A week or three. Maybe some months. Hard to be sure.

Tharsus did not notice the passing of time, lost as he was in a sort of reverie as he brought the Anchor and volcano back towards full capacity.

The only thing that caught his attention was the completion of the monolith. The impossibly smooth black monument stood in the center of the small village, radiating warmth and a faint orange light, but absorbing almost all other light that touched it's surface. It's presence empowered the Lieutenant (and Arch-Lieutenant), and in turn aided the villagers in their survival. With luck, the warmth would calm them, and help them overcome their fear of wandering the grounds around the village, though the Arch-Lieutenant had raised a crude series of basalt-and-obsidian marker stones that defined the approach to the volcano-mountain, to ensure they did not accidentally return to the Anchor's aura.

Satisfied that this task was completed, he returned to his throneroom to relax. Soon, he would re-open the "foundry" room and prepare a little more for what was to come. But that would require more energy from the Anchor, energy that could not be spared from the fragment's growth cycle.

All in due time, however...

---

Astral Plane:

As befitting his intense concentration in the physical realm, Tharsus' astral incarnation has been oddly quiet, afflicted by a sort of thousand-yard-stare at times, when he's not busy browsing that bloody great book of his - and sometimes when he is. Anyone peeking over his shoulder would see some very interesting and largely incomprehensible arcane diagrams, and the entire thing is written in a slightly obscure runic script. It seems to be as much devoted to historical anecdotes and explanations of how the arcane arts apply to the "spell" in question as it is to the actual incantations and whathaveyou themselves.

One suspects that there is a concise index, glossary, appendix and possibly a cheatsheet or two. Maybe three. Even if there is/are not, the book is liberally... well, bookmarked, for easier reading.

Appearance-wise, he's almost spick and span again, though seeming to lack a certain... oomph and presence that he had before everything went pearshaped.

All's Fair in Hope and War?

In two separate locations Aellor bowed to the goddesses who had granted their favor. Inside his mind, on a plane of imagination accessible only to him and those he allowed, he glared at the god of victory. This was HIS plan! HIS idea to seek out Hope and War and win their favor to bring back to the archipelagos. What did this upstart think he would do by tagging along?! NOBODY stole the weather god's thunder, NO ONE! He fumed a while in that timeless place while he figured how to manage the development. Oshye had dropped right in and carried off Hope's lantern as if it had been his idea in the first place! As if HE had been the one to ask. Yes, it was supposed to be a gift for them all, but it was supposed to be HIM that got it for them. Still, this was not the first time plans had gone awry and he had to change his course to compensate. He was the god of chaos, and through it change, after all. Anyway, the lantern was on its way but he still had the dagger and could yet continue. However all he did in the presence of the others was accept the dagger and say, "I will take my leave then. Fare well for now and may your goals be met."

It's the hip place where ALL the cool gods hang out!

Back in the meeting place, a fracture in space developed and became Aellor. It's uncertain when that happened, but it was clear Aellor was back. "I have ventured to the mainland where I sought out the goddesses of Hope and War. They have agreed to lend us their aid in the form of two tokens. This dagger here which I intend to cast as a constellation in the sky, beware those who seek to travel under it that have incurred War's wrath. And also a lantern to be carried to Hope's island where it will shine as a beacon to inspire our people. Oshye, the god of fallen victory has graciously agreed to go there and install it in its place." A short bit later somewhere off at Hope's island, the light from Hope's lantern reached those at the meeting room. Oshye had gotten the lantern, but Aellor had put credit where it was due.

After this announcement he turned to Masota and gave reply, "You may be goddess of schemes, but you are not the only one who plans. This is the current plan, and I do not see it failing, but that does not make it the ONLY plan. I imagine that at the very least you must have at least two other plans yourself if this one fails or even despite it succeeding. And there are other gods with other plans. Just remember that plans can and do change, just like everything else. I should know that more than anyone after all."

Star light, star not so bright just yet...

Far above the islands in the realm of sky, Aellor held the dagger bequeathed to him by War. There were many things he could do with it, but the best one was this. He held it above him and the dagger shimmered for a moment before seeming to dissolve. However where the dagger was before, there was now seven points of light, stars the formed a constellation for all to see. It lay in the sky between the Archipelagos and the Mainland, with the blade aimed towards the Betrayer's throne. Beware any who sail beneath it who had incurred the wrath of War.

However the constellation was new as of it and would take time to brighten. He had already informed the other god of sky of his doings and if Tezkatl so wished he would bestow his favor upon it causing it to reach its destination more quickly. In the meantime Aellor wanted the constellation in the sky much too soon to wait for it to mature even with Tezkatl's blessing so he would have to improvise. The image of a constellation would have to do until the actual constellation reached its peak and mortals could see it on their own. And though it was weak yet, it still served as a channel to War and his markers would show people where to look. Now just to set them in place at the right time...

A bit later than once upon a time...

"... and in his greed the god who was king betrayed his people and shattered the sun beginning the war of the gods. It is mostly over now and only a few struggle on, but the Betrayer has not won yet. He is a powerful god, but also a cruel one. He neglects his people and leaves them to starve in the cold as darkness envelopes the land. Rather than fight him in revenge I have come here to protect my people while the world tries to break apart. And though you may be scared, do not fear for I shall not let you down. I brought this island food, and shelter, and now I bring you Hope."

The snow leopard paused a moment while elsewhere Oshye placed the lantern in Hope's lighthouse and the beacon leapt forth along the horizon, appearing to be a strange sort of star. "So long as this light shines, know that Hope still lives on and the future is not lost. I am not a god of war or protection and the Betrayer rages on, still seeking to destroy what remains of the world, but again I tell you, do not fear for there is one who protects us. I have cast her sign in the sky above and so long as that constellation remains, War fights on and the Betrayer has not won."

The snow leopard gazed at the sky a moment and those listening to his story (or by now it was really a speech) suddenly noticed a new constellation. Seven stars lined in the shape of a cross, but as they looked they could clearly tell it was a dagger, four stars in the hilt and three in the blade, straight as an arrow and pointing off into the distance.

"Furthermore," continued Aellor, calling their attention back to himself, "I endeavor as we speak to restore the sun to the sky. This egg..." he pulled forth a copy of the egg. It wasn't the real thing, but was something tangible these people could hold on to and see. "This is the egg from which a new sun will hatch. On a plateau atop the mountain the true form of this egg will sit as I pour into it energy to fill the sky with light once more. If any should seek me, that plateau is where I will be found. This egg I leave with you is not the true form, but it is linked, and if you care for this egg, it will be as if you care for the true egg and it will hatch all the faster. I leave it with you now while I go to care for the true egg for it will be as a child to me."

The egg lifted up and drifted over to the island's elder who reached out with both hands and caught it with a cradle. He understood that his home was to be the location of the egg, but he would not be the carer. That job instead would go to those (if any) who felt the calling in their hearts to undertake such a task. Attention turned to the god one more time as he finished his speech. "Finally, I wish you to remember that ever if the Light of Hope goes out and the Dagger of War fades from the sky, I say one more time... do not fear for I will not abandon you. I may not be the god of protection or guardianship, but you are my people and I will protect you nonetheless."

With those final words he vanished into a swirl of snow which blew up to the mountain's peak. A moment later a rumble of thunder was heard and a searing light filled the sky as bolt of lightning after bolt of lightning began to strike the peak where the egg now lay. As time passed and eventually the sky grew weary of channeling its storm into the unhatched sun, the stars took up the task as concentrated starlight funneled itself into the egg until the sky was ready to pour forth its storm once more and the cycle repeated.

The mortal realm : island of kindness.

Volare looked up in the sky at the coment he had summoned and smiled. While it was no sun it had given his people something of a guiding light. They had onyx now thanks to horv and he planed to make sure his people understood that. Returning to the temple that they had built to honor him he studied the walls. Several of his more significant interventions for his people.  Going to a blank section of the wall he starts to engrave a simplified version of his agreement with horv. it starts with the island and an image of him(faceless as normal) alone with the accepted image of Horv  standing extraordinarily large over a shrunken version of the island facing each other. This is followed by a an image of the two shaking hands a custom from his home universe. This is followed by horv touching the ground and the onyx being found.

"Who are you and what are you doing here" came a voice from the doorway "the words aside the tone was wary not scared or unkind just cautious , as if the speaker was not certain what situation they found themselves in. Volare smiled his back still to the speaker. "Just recording a little story on the walls here. Do be sure to share it with others. The truth is something all are entitled to know and should shared."  Volare stops and smiles. "I'll be back later. I still need to work out what to say about the growing baby suns"  with that volare was simply gone form the perceptions of his follower as effect as if he had walked through the wall though they could feel his presences near by. One of them goes to the newly etched story to see what was written there.  


The Realm of the gods.

Volare looked around the room. New faces had arrived and other ones had departed. He was unimpressed by the goddess of lucks emphases on the word only. He knew that others gods specially the god of fire had worked on others plans. He himself had had some thoughts had he not been so preoccupied with the lives of his people he might had tired to guide a newly born dwarf sun to these world. In this experience there are always celestial bodies searching for thee place in the heavens the only question would be if there would be any survivors for however long it took to find and guide such a sun to this world.

the mortal realm :Island of kindness sun egg.

"my my little one you seem to be doing alright.  i wish i could guide you better but until you are alert enough to make choices on you own i can really do is try to provide what you need to become a strong healthy sun to light the way for the people of this world. my people are counting on you and praying for your speedy return to this world so lets try our best not to disappointment them okay?" volare  caress his egg one more time passing on power from his worshipers  feeling it leave him and pulse into the egg. he hoped this was the right way to care for it but he would know fore sure when it grew up and hatched.

The Astral realm... yeah, I've got nothing.

Masota feigned indignation, "Scheme! Me? Well, I dare say I have given this some though, but I wouldn't go so far to call it a scheme.... I have my own plans yes and I have been very hard at work with them, but" she pouted, "There are several... materials... that have been hard to procure, at least in the appropriate quantities. You see, just a little bit of life, some death, some fire, possibly some other things, and I can set things into motion."

With Gys not responding, I checked the progress of my children's training before changing my hue to something slightly more red and sending a portion to the divine meeting room. To the room, I asked, "I'm afraid that, in all this planning of mine, I've missed any discussion that's occurred. Would someone be so kind as to inform me of what's been decided upon as a plan of response towards the despicable God King?"

Astral War Room
Tharsus glances up for a moment, shaking free of his daze.

"For now, we rebuild the sun. As for the King... we will need to strike hard, fast, and decisively. It would be more beneficial to tear down the structure that supports him than confront him head on, at least for now. Once on the mainland, I believe I can restore my abandoned Anchors to working order, and from there use them as bases for further operations. Transportation that can reach the mainland may be a challenge though. If we choose to send ships, it would probably be best to dispatch them all at once as a fleet, and then split up again closer to the mainland."

"I also have my own plans for transportation as my island is lacking in woodland and thus trees for shipbuilding, but nothing I am confident in just yet. I shall need more time to conduct research and follow up some leads."

Tharsus pauses, perhaps a little nervously.

"Anchoring the other volcanos in the island chain would be beneficial to my research and preparations, also bringing the stabilizing properties of the Anchors to the volcanos... but I am sure you are all aware of the inherent risks from the corruptive area of influence. I have not the strength to contest the matter nor the desire to start an argument, so consider it an offer of sorts. I realize it may not be the most attractive one there is."

The Realm of the gods: meeting room

"i can help Guide the ships to the main land  so that they avoid many of the treacherous waters between the islands and the main land  but this relies heavily on the consent of the god of the oceans,  and on the approval of those who are sending there people on this dangerous trek.  Volare pauses for a moment as he checks his acquired knowledge of this world... to see if they people once had metal ships "so the people of the islands don't have the means to make metal boats do they? "

Divine Meeting Room

Kumbhla stopped, the Sea God sensing something. The Leviathan had reared it's ugly head once again. And without it's master to control it, it would wreck havoc on his worshippers.

"I must leave..." TheSea Deity grumbled."It seems I need to clean up some else's mess yet again." He made his way towards the exit, opening the massive doors as he left.

Island of the Sea

Kumbha's avatar gazed at the statue. Before he could begin the order of the "Renovation" of the Temple, her sense the leviathan. Turning to the Elder, he motioned for them to head to high ground as avoid the water as much as humanly possible.

(BLUH BLUH SHIT POST!)

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


The arrival of a group of warriors claiming to serve the Moon and calling themselves the Children of the Night was an atypical event for the village populace. Several generations of constancy afforded by routine and isolation left them caught unawares by such a change. Coupled with the recent divine upheaval that caused the marked environmental changes such as the disappearance of the Sun and changes in the Sea, the village elder understood why the villagers might be suspicious of these new faces.

They had come with offers of assistance and some supplies. They were clearly not refugees as far as the elder could tell. It was also unlikely that they intended to harm or steal from the community. Firstly, the village possessed nothing worth stealing and secondly they did not have the numbers to assault whole village at once. If they had planned to use stealth, it was unlikely that they would have approached the villagers in the first place. These were not his only reassurances however; the Temple's Keeper who had recently joined them in the village told him of their impending arrival. The message from Ainos apparently had also stated that they and their help should be welcomed.

He had not seen many strange things in his lifetime, but after the occurrences of the past weeks, their arrival was the least strange of the changes. The strangest would have to have been the change in the cycle of appointing the next Keeper of the Temple. The Keeper was supposed to have descended from the temple in the centre of the island some years later and bring a successor back with him to carry on his secrets. Instead, he was here in the village, years earlier than expected and imparting his knowledge to the whole village as per Ainos' instruction. If Ainos was communicating again, the times were surely changing.

The explosion of light in the sky that accompanied the recent formation of the nebula which marked the spot where the dead Sun once lay occurred while most of the village was sleeping. The nebula itself and its significant position however were soon noticed by most of the village by virtue of the light it gave. Not to mention the fact that the Moon seemed to pass by that particular nebula every day. The ring of light that was deflected off the nebula forming a rotating image of Ainos' holy symbol was not as easily noticed. The Keeper of the Temple saw to that deficiency and made sure this subtlety was noted, along with its function as a timekeeping method. It was taken as a sign that Ainos was still watching over them and a new Sun was in the works.

The elder's first priority at the moment was to soothe the people's apprehension regarding the newly arrived warriors. They were neither fully trusted nor made to feel welcome by the villagers at the moment. This was especially true with regards to the youth of the village. The village could use whatever additional hands that were offered and any new knowledge or news that they could provide.


**********


"... and that is why my children, we should trust these warriors sent by the Lord of the Night and welcome their aid. It is the will of Ainos himself and we must remain faithful while he works to rebuild our Sun," concluded the elder to the gathered village.

Turning to address the warriors, "And now I formally welcome you to our village and island and ask you forgive our initial reluctance in receiving you. If you would, please introduce yourselves..."

"A moment." The saffron robed Temple Keeper rose and interrupted the elder. "Look at the village sundial."

As those who had not already noticed turned their attention over to the sundial, a globe of light that looked exactly like a miniature Moon began to form and orbit the monolith. Both the monolith and the representation of the Moon began to glow simultaneously as an image of the Sun rose out of and hovered over the monolith. A clear sign as any that the Lord of Night and his followers were allies.

Quietly, the Keeper of the Temple also noted the beacon from Hope's Island shining again and what seemed to be a new constellation shaped like a dagger pointing towards the mainland.



In the Weave and Threads of Time Itself


A singularity, an infinity, space, nothingness, perpetuity, an instant, everything, nothing. All these could describe this place, if one could even consider it a place. It is Time, it affects everything, it is within everything, it surrounds everything. It is the past, present and future. If there is one thing it is not however, that thing would be chaos. Time was ordered, by the will of Ainos.

It is this place that Tezkatl's cosmic egg vanished to when Ainos obtained one. It is in this place that Ainos infuses a portion of that which used to be his mother with the essence of Time. The unwavering regularity, the cyclical nature, the constant march, the constant presence. The past – memories of the old Sun, the present – the importance and purpose of its birth, and the future – hopes for what it will become and represent. All these aspects of time, woven gently into the egg with just a hint of love and affection.



Divine Realm


Ainos' presence centres on Masota for a moment. "If you have a plan you wish to make known, by all means. The items which you seek may or may not be within our power to provide. Without more knowledge of your plan, there is little we can contribute. Unless of course that is not your intention, and you merely seek to arouse curiosity. In that case, I apologise. My curiosity is not aroused."

To Tharsus', Ainos replies, "Your offer is appreciated. It is however unnecessary for my island at this time. Any seismic activity it may have possessed is long dead and seems unlikely to reawaken. I am curious however as to what your library may have to offer. If you would indulge my curiosity?"

Isle of Fire
A development.  The Anchor cries out to you, its god, as if in physical pain.  The Volcano rages, slipping from your control steadily.  The hard rock of the structure cracking, as a localized tremor quakes into being.  The Passion you sense from the egg...it's growing...  The quakes and raging stops.  Whatever pressure was building has been released.  But in place of the simple passion from the egg, you now sense something...very similar to your own mind coming from where you placed the egg in the Anchor.

Isle of Cats
Beware, the rock shifts.  From where you planted the egg, ye God of the Earth, a mountain grows.  Pure lodestone, it is though many years from being fully developed.  Your humans are heartened by the  omen, seemingly a blessing from you.  A personality presses at you.  As strong willed as the Earth, and constantly shifting to better accommodate it's ever growing mass and awareness. 

Isle of Borvania
The dissident speaks no longer.  Having an 'unfortunate accident' shortly after your appearance.  The people do well.  However, the waters around your tropical island play hose to swarms of insects which feed off of your humans, and slowly grow.  The egg you hold latches onto you, and begins to draw from your power reserves.  A blank slate, but it grows.

Isle of Mish'na
Your people learn quickly.  But it has been but a week.  The recent changes in the divine order have thrown their daily lives into near chaos.  Near, because their faith to you has not waned an iota.  Already, your zealots are approaching a respectable level of skill.  Perhaps even, a level where they could be tested.

Realm of the Moon's Sight
As your eye rises to survey the world, great god of the Sky, you gain a glimpse of War's fight with the King.  The Four Seasons are laid low with four harsh cuts.  You can hear the screams of the lesser deities as Death comes to them, and their souls made ready for collection...but suddenly, those souls are gone.  Instead, you see that the King's blade shines similarly to a soul needing to be collected-shortly before he stabs it into the ground, and forces the untamed energy of the Seasons into his domain.  So that is how he maintains order...such as it is.  War rages at this loss, and charges him when she believes the King distracted, only to impale herself on his sword.
Your missionary spreads word in the cracks of mainland society.  Expanding where the oppression of the King's followers hold no sway, and expanding these areas ever so slightly over time.

Time's Domain
Your egg grows muted in colour, and soon a long reaching calm can be felt coming from within the egg.

The Warrior
Sister War's reaction is cut away, as the hand Oshye holds tightens into a vice grip when a broad bronze sword blooms from War's chest in a spray of blood.  The Seasons who stood with her are gone.  And now she is going too.

The Beacon
"...My Lord, I am here and everywhere.  I have a globe of people who need my Hope, and I cannot lock myself to one place, lest dear sister Nihilism here take over."  She pauses, as her beacon roars to greater light.  "..And now there is even more work to be done.  I will join you hence shortly.  But now the mortals whom War protected need Hope lest they be slaughtered like lesser animals."  And she is gone.

Astral Realm
Jerrel winks out of existence, and soon after you can feel his awareness explode, having met the same fate as the Seasons.

Mortal affairs
Two months of mortal time pass.

[[GMfailpost, ahoy!]]

Astral Realm

Tharsus departs abruptly! Or more accurately he ceases manifesting in the Astral Plane, but does not cease to exist. The god of fire ceasing to exist would be a truly terrible thing after all.

---

Mortal Realm, The Sanctuary

Tharsus throws open the doors to the Anchor chamber, and strides towards the thrumming structure. That keen, predatory intellect... he could feel it even from here. What to do with it, hmmmm?

"My my, aren't we an overzealous little one," he muses as he plunges one hand into the very fabric of the Anchor, retrieving the egg from it's hiding place. Instantly, he felt some of his power returning. "I think you have learnt everything you can learn from me... but I am no kind guardian, no loving parent. That, I shall leave for the others. I wonder what will become of thee..."

He steps back and holds the egg up in one hand, then returns to the Astral Realm, egg-shard in hand.

---

Astral Realm (Again)

Tharsus reappears in his throne, still holding the egg, and ready to answer Ainos' query...

"In truth, I cannot say what the library holds for sure. I have not taken stock of it's contents in a long time, and it is hard to say what exactly is within the tomes. I know of the old magics, and perhaps some books of alchemical techniques, but some of it may be of little use to our peoples as they are."

(In other words, it's up to Meany if there's anything that's immediately useful in there. It could be that the books require the peoples to be better equipped and more civilized before their contents are of any use. One cannot introduce a caveman to a car and expect him to build another one, even with the plans. Infrastructure and development are key.)

---

Mortal Realm... Again

Back to dual-manifesting, Tharsus threw open the foundry doors, marching into the vaulted hall. Empty vats lined the circular chamber, the center of which was dominated by a forge of sorts. It could be used for weapons, certainly... but the vats... those were so much more intriguing. With a simple hand-gesture, they slowly began to fill with a murky black ooze laced with firey-red strands of... something. It would take time for the vats to fill without stressing his limited resources, but he felt it best to start early.

In the meantime, he summoned his Overseer-Lieutenant, for an update on the status of his followers-of-sorts.

Plus, with Sister War out of the picture, someone would have to take over... and he had every intention of doing so, if that's what was required to bring down the King. No mercy for the traitor... no mercy at all.

It was time to test them. Lowering myself to my children, I gave a vision unto the leader of those trained. In it, I directed the subtle warrior to lead a cadre out through their fishing hole to the sea. From there, they were to swim to the nearest island that was not their own, and create terror. I was careful to ensure that they wouldn't kill people without cause, nor cause any irreparable damage. To finish the vision, I gave them my blessing, so that my power would be given to those on the other island. With that, I retreated from the leader's mind.

Volare's eyes when wide and he grasp his chest.  gone. more deities were gone and there followers suddenly befit of guidance. such a horrible thing to have happen. back  home gods would come and go every few eons but this was just wrong. he had to do something. he had to help there where he could.  he with drew from the realms of the gods to go to War's people and offer solace and guidance to help them through the shock of there recent loss.

Diety plane

   Strangely, Gys seemed to have gone dormant before he could respond to Zaltan. Slightly perturbed, Zaltan realized he was on his own. With that, he focused his attention on the mortal realm, searching nearby islands. He found a large flock of migratory birds on an island with some non-tree edible plants, and began attempting to apply his divine power. It was a simple matter to ensure what should happen naturally, and the birds inadvertently collected various seeds in their feathers. Then, it was simple to ensure that, as the flock of birds took off to continue their migration, they stopped by Argondan on their way. There, with the ruffling and preening of feathers, the seeds were dropped into the dirt on the ground.
   Now for the difficult part. Zaltan tried to ensure that as many of the seeds take root as possible, so the more that sprout when they are noticed by his people, the more food and seeds his people can harvest to begin creating real crops. After that, he turns his attention to his people themselves...

Argondan

   With the paper crated and the transcribing in full progress, it became even more feasible to record information. Everyone on the island is encouraged to continue to observe the world around them and record their observations, and to think of ways they can use the information for benefit. The newly-christened prophet Shalt's directive is also heeded, and from the few towns on Argondan, people keep an eye out for veins of the potentially useful rock when they leave the villages on various duties.

Where Chaos Reigns
Aellor, your people feel the spark of Hope come to them again.  Perhaps that Beacon knows her stuff.  The elder cares for the egg as if it were a child.  And the true egg grows an emotional aura of glib amusement.  Those of your folk who feel the calling in their hearts to come, though they are few, begin to exhibit strange traits.  Unique bodily movements, or cravings for unusual for food.  Mutations are occurring.  Or at least starting.

Have Faith
The faith from your followers has restored you all to one third your original power levels.  Enjoy the boost.

Boardroom of the Gods

Masota merely grinned an shrugged, "My plan is," she paused as if she were searching for the right word, "delicate. Making it known would invite disaster and likely ruin it before it comes to fruition. But, in a rough sense, this minor token of power would be used in a wager gamble to resolve something that troubles our mortal followers. A gamble I intend to take, and stack in my favor." Behind her calm demeanor Masota was furiously working out the next several moves in her plan. If she could not convince them to part with the elements she came for, she would need to get ready to take them.

Borvania

The fragment of Masota that watched over her island bestowed upon her priest a vision. In the vision she praised them on their work, but warned them to keep their eyes open to the world around them. She told them that the insects that settled in would need to be dealt with. That it was the first test of them and their faith, and that they should be resourceful in dealing with them. She also told them that the Varren (the squirrel like predators of the island) were available to be hunted, but neither to excess nor for self indugent endevors such as sport. The skull of each Varren slain must be burned and smashed to dust, which is then spread amongst the forest. Failure to do so, or to hunt the Varren againist Masota's wishes held an unknown consequence.

Boredroom of Herr Zod-- errr, Boardroom of the Gods

Tharsus looked unamused by Masota's explanation.

"We need to be on the same page here, not scrabbling behind each other's backs for scraps. If this matter is so important, then best we know of it proper. I will require more than just your word for such a matter, if it is to be an equal and worthwhile exchange."

With that aside done, his attention flickered for a moment as if he were distracted by something, before he turned back to Ainos, though he also addressed Zaltan and the others somewhat.

"My Overseer reports he has had some luck in cataloguing the Archive, as things seem quiet on my island for now. He has uncovered a number of designs believed to have been the work - directly or otherwise - of Zaltan, including architectural techniques, aqueducts for water transportation, pulley systems and locks. There are also some writings on defensive tactics and strategies - the use of embankments and pits, as well as some basic military formations. Unfortunately, much of this is of little use to our people for now."

"There are also assorted writings on alchemical techniques, and a primitive form of magic based around the ability of some exceptional mortals to channel the primal elements themselves. The former are also useless without tools and techniques. The latter I am unsure of. To make matters worse, the Overseer also notes that there are more losses than we had anticipated, if his Records of Formation are correct. A number of the smaller conceptual deities - cities, vengeance, vices and virtues, just to name a few - are gone. Permanently, if his suspicions are correct. These will not recover without intervention from ourselves, especially if the King represses worship of other deities on the mainland or does not try to reintroduce them himself."

Island of Fire
The people have overcome their fear of separation, it seems.  They have begun to spread out and explore the island.  However, it seems the energy the egg siphoned off has been noticed, for many complain of the unnatural cold in the air and dirt.  To counter this, one man has taken the initiative to create fires and torches for the use of his fellows.  Gathering the rare, and at times precariously placed wood from the island's jagged shoreline.
[[I cannot recall if you took an egg, so assuming you did...]]
The divine shell you obtained develops a curious aura, filled with swirling colours which never look the same  way twice.

Argondan
Here's  something to record for the record books.  An abnormal amount of birds depositing strange seeds on the northwestern shore of the island.  However, before many observations could be made, the observers were under attack.  The monsters came from the sea, grabbing and throwing people roughly, sometimes over the craggy shore to their doom.  Your people flee back to their village, but all too late realize the monsters intended to follow them.

Borvania
The people learn to dig channels from their water pools, to the small rivers, as the insects cannot tolerate moving water.  The first few hunts of the Varren end badly, with the hunters becoming the hunted.  But the sheer gall of being downed by squirrels eventually leads to a successful hunt.  The meat is good and lean, the skull burnt and crushed, and scattered as you command.

Egglicious
Tharsus' egg  begins to crack.  Fire streams out of the cracks in the shell, and a combative aura, but the ultimate form has is not visible at present, due to the burning plasma obscuring the bulk of what the shattering egg shell reveals.
Steady drumbeats fill the air around the egg shrine on the Isle of the Sun.  The people, having almost forgotten what the sound of music was.  Steady beats meld together to make a rhythm, and soon the people rejoice at the return of Song, almost missing the egg itself hatching.
The lodestone mountain suddenly vanishes when the egg hatches.  The creature from within possesses an intense pulling force, born from it's magnetism, and sizable mass.

[[Not sure if I'm allowed to do this, since I got an alert during the posting process. :x  Just trying to grease the wheels, for y'all.  Clarifications in the OOC for those who need them.]]

Diety Plane

  Zaltan stirred as his name was mentioned. Focusing on them was hard. He never interacted with them much before this.
  "So...scraps of my mortal knowledge have survived." he says, though to the other gods, he sounds quiet and the equivalent of being lethargic, or out of breath. "It is meaningless to us, only any worth to the mortals. Yet, it does them no good as they have forgotten what they learned and if we cannot return that knowledge to them--what I am trying to do. It is...difficult. Direct inspiration is...nearly out of the question. It took all the power...I didn't know I had to send my people...dreams of paper. What I can do is guide them...in the right direction, so they might discover things...on their own, but this takes time... decades in mortal terms. More than likely, most of the old knowledge...of my libraries is obsolete, for the mortals will refill it with new, better knowledge. The basics will be relearned, but the specifics...will be new, dependant upon the circumstances that created them. For mortals, necesity is the mother of invention. The world provides the necesity, and I...provide the drive to invent. When I am not so weak, I can...try and help the peoples under the patronage of all of you to rediscover..." Zaltan trailed off, began rubbing his forehead, and faded away from the rest of the gods as he shifted his focus.
  Something was wrong.

Argondan, Mortal Plane
  The edge observers of the island came rushing back to their villages, with the most returning to the central one, with the First Library, the appliers of knowledge, and Shalt the prophet. In a near-panic, they told their stories of the strange water-creatures. Everyone turned to Shalt for guidance.
  Shalt thought long and hard about the problem.
  There is a danger. Review the problem. Consider all knowledge.
  He listend to the stories. They were strong in hand-to-hand, capable of throwing someone over a cliff or tearing them apart. If someone threw rocks at them, if there was nothign else in reach, they would pursue the rock-thrower. These things had thick capes, useless to attack from the back. But if stabbed from the front, they bled. While no one reported felling any, if it bleeds, it can be killed, if only you stab it deep enough. Shalt went to the library and began looking through scrolls.
  Use the resources you have.
  There it is. One of the developers had been experimenting with taut strings, and using them as a 'trigger' for other purposes. How to apply that here...
  Invent the solution.
  When moving through the island, sometimes treebranches have to be pushed out of the way, but they're springy, and will snap back. It always hurt if you were behind the first person.
  You know what to do.
  "I have found it!" Shalt cried. he rushed out of the Library, and found the other villager who had been working on the strings. Together, they began showing the other villagers the application of it, and quickly demonstrated a prototype. Find a springy treebranch, sharpen some stakes and tie them to the branch, then pull the branch back and keep it there with a string. If the string is tripped, it breaks, and releases the branch. Plans were quickly drawn up to go forward again and begin laying the paths with these 'traps', set at the height where it should harm the things the most. The entire village burst into activity, making the stakes and going forth to begin laying the traps, while others scouted forward again to be bait; once the traps were ready, the scouts would pelt the things with stones and lead them, hopefully, to their deaths. Everyone was given strict commands to avoid melee at all costs, if in an emergency, stick to stone-throwing and running, and above all, do -not- lead them back to the villages.

Under the Shadow of Storm Clouds

The thunder was rumbling again. It had been two months since their god had spoken to them in the town square. It had not been a very good speech... sort of rambly and didn't really make his point very well, but with a god such as theirs that was to be expected. The elder sighed as he sat by the window stroking his mustache. It was a lot stiffer these days and about a week ago he could have sworn he gave himself a splinter. All the people on the island were starting to notice such oddities, or the more attentive ones anyway. Most still thought they were the only ones, but he'd noticed the things some of them tried to hide; the heat thermals rising off a redhead girl, the fisherman's son whose eyes hadn't always been so blue, and of course his grandson who hadn't even noticed his own pointy ears yet. Whatever else might be said of their god, he certainly made things more interesting.

He was distracted by a knocking on the door. Or perhaps pounding would be a better word for it. Maira had never known her own strength and as of late she seemed bigger and stronger than she used to. The elder had asked her about it once and she had told him was going senile. She was here for the 'egg' of course. Maira was never far from some child or other and after Aellor's speech, she had grown fond of handling the egg quickly enough. Perhaps it was because she had never had any children of her own, but she had spent a lot more time at the elder's house since the egg had been set here.

Unsurprisingly when he opened the door, Maira brushed past him with only gruff greetings and made straight for the egg which she began to fuss over. She would be like a mother hen if she weren't so ferocious. The elder recalled one time when a little girl had wandered too far and been attacked by a wild boar. Maira arrived to find the girl fleeing in terror and immediately attacked the boar by herself. Help arrived soon enough to take out the boar but half the rescue party swore that Maira had been winning when they got there. As Maira pulled the egg out of the flame heated sand to hold it, the elder reflected that there was really no one better suited to look after it.

Upon the Mountain Top

As Aellor funneled the storm's fury into the shard of the sun he was responsible for, he could almost hear words upon the wind. But before he could make anything out, they were snatched away again. He paused a moment to contemplate. Could it have been prayer? But as he observed his people below they did not seem panicked or in need so he dismissed the issue as nothing more than perhaps a fragment of his personality that had broken off momentarily and spoken to him before rejoining him. It would not be the first time it had happened after all.

Across the Sea

The band of travellers rose with tears in their eyes. Though they prayed with more fervor than ever before, their god remained silent. They had been away from the city when it had burned, attacked by armies mightier than their defenses. The hadn't even put up much of a defense even, just simply crumbled before the might of the enemy preaching about the one god. Many citizens of the city had converted rather than be put to the sword while the marvels they had created burned in fire. Granted some had only pretended to convert while secretly holding to the old ways, but for every one who had held true ten had not and now those in the city lay in chains. Not real chains, but their every movement was hemmed in and they were prisoners none-the-less, unable to leave their cage. Only this band and perhaps one or two others that had been away from the city remained free and true to the old god, but it seemed their god had fallen with their city.

Rumor had it that a vision was seen in the sky of their god falling to another clad in bronze armor, cut through with a sword before exploding into wisps of smoke that dispersed into nothing. It was said the bronze clad stranger let out a cry which caused the buildings of the city itself to crumble which led the invading army to their rout. The more devout whispered that their god had escaped rather than been destroyed, but if so he must be too weak, too far, or too frightened to heed their prayers. They all knew that if they returned to the city they would be killed or imprisoned like the rest of their people and so they travelled pretending to be what they were not. Better to be anonymous traders from a far land than to be identified as survivors of a fallen god.

It was starting to become common opinion that their old god could no longer help them and that they needed a new god now. They were a people of change after all and it was time to adapt or perish. They no longer prayed to bright stars or heavy storms to revel and take joy in, but dark nights and heavy mists to hide them from the many who would wish them harm. And somewhere nearby, unseen by the travelers, wisps of smoke began to coalesce into a shadow, brought together by the need of the harried people. Its memory was dim and the shadow itself was weak, but it recalled a mighty foe which would destroy it if it was found. In a time past it had been stronger, someone else, but in this present it knew that it must hide. Its people still needed it, but they needed something new now, and change was in the air.

Isle of kindness

Volare stood in the main chamber of the temple dictated to him.  before him was a stand that was a cradle for the sun egg. This feat that he was undertaking would take some effort to work as it was unusual for him but he would make it work somehow. Concentrating hard he brought  to mind the image of the sun egg buried under this island. As he focus on it he polished and piece of Onyx that his people had retrieved form the earth gods gift.  Volare worked hard polishing and trying to shape the onyx into the image of the egg even as he linked it to it.  Kindness is a guiding and binding force in the world. often we all only survive with the kindness of others being our life line. his people had help countless others both in there tribe and others so  he would do his best to see that they would be rewarded. but first they would need to see that their sun was being reborn and for that he needed to show them a guiding beacon. He would show them that there sun could be reborn!

Realm of the gods

Volare sought out Tezkat the god of sky and moon deciding that he would need advice on raising this sun egg for his people.