Turn One: The Death of an Era, the Birth of an Eternity.
And so did the waking period of the gods commence, not in their heavenly beds of feather and cloud, but upon earthen floors. No waxing sun nor twinkle of starlight broke the night, only darkness greeted them. For now, and perhaps always, this was their home.
Yet not all was dark. With eyes clouded only by their scope and loyalties, they saw the worlds intermix as water and oil. Flowing between the two the leylines rushed, rivers between and across. One need only listen to the soft song it sings to hear the symphony of the deep.
Bringing the light of divinity into this pristinely dark realm, the gods acted.
Vahranis and Malaya
When the Twin Gods awoke the found their mortals cowering in the dark, surrounded on all sides by beasts of all kinds and of a nature both foreign and ravenous. And so, the Twins gave them what they needed to survive.
Vahranis acted first. He saw through the darkness and reached out his hands to his people. In his hands, a most holy weapon, the Ravager. This weapon seemed to fire infinitely small munitions which exploded upon impact with a small flash of light. He gifted this to Tarhun, who accepted it with awe.
Next Vahranis reached out his hands, not to his people, but to the beasts. Using his own might, he and Tarhun fought the beasts in direct combat. It was a glorious scene, the intricate pattern’s of Vahranis’ armor illuminated briefly with every shot of the Ravager. The appearance of their god and the gift of such a powerful weapon gave the kobold legionnaires much courage, and they charged into battle! Yet it was not an easy fight, the beasts were large and numerous, and many kobolds died upon the field of battle that day. Even Tarhun, gifted with a weapon of divine power, found himself beset by a pack of mantis wolves. While Vahranis was able to save Tarhun, Tarhun suffered 1W.
After that day, much of the beasts were absent, at least for the time being, and Vahranis and Malaya were able to focus on teaching.
While Vahranis had been fighting, Malaya had been solving an issue that plagued her people most severely, the darkness. She found a small piece of wood, and with her power, infused it so that it may grow as if the sun shined from within.
From that single seed, a thousand glowing spores spread over the area and Lightroot began to grow in the area. This woody plant looked much like the bamboo of the Leshy homelands, yet hidden among it’s gaps and ridges, hid sunlight. Each one was dotted with many bioluminescent nodules, which gave off light akin to that of the summer fireflies, which lit the sky during Elvish summers.
The lightroot quickly spread, at first, to the hex of it’s creation, yet afterwards it’s progression slowed, at least for a short time. Many would fall upon hard stone and find no nutrients to set down their roots in. Others form small groves in the lichen fields, or were lucky enough to land upon the corpse of a fallen creature and begin a copse that way. Yet as time went on, it began to spread exponentially.
Quickly the caverns around them transformed, as their surroundings became an interplay of islands of light, and vast seas of darkness. They could see the small movements of insects among the lichen, the slow moving fish of the endless lake, the movement of siloutes as beasts passed between them and the groves, the fluttering of bats and bugs, and all manner of life was suddenly brought into the world of the revealed. And the mortals found awe not only in the majesty of the world hidden behind the darkness, but of the lightroot which pulled back the curtains of obscurity. It's firefly light creating areas visable even at a distance, while every so often they would release clouds of glowing spores that would illuminate whole areas, if even for only a day or two.
Yet that was not all, the two gods went about teaching. Malaya worked with her mortals, the elves mostly, in teaching them how to work the wood of the lightroot and use it in all sorts of applications, which was rather useful for it continued to glow for months after being cut.
Meanwhile, the humans found themselves most amiable to Malaya's second teaching: mining. While they had few implements stone tools were made from what rocks they could find, and used to wear away whatever else they could. Perhaps sensing this, Vaharanis created a magical item which greatly sped up the process.
Having armed their followers with holy relics, an expanded knowledge, and after all this time, light to see by, the Twin Gods did come to rest.
Zvezda (Happy Demon) and TreKian (Darkwarlock)
When Zvezda and Trekain awoke, they found themselves upon the battlefield. The Arana and the Vesin engaged in a war of the races. For land, for resources, for honor, the two races fought.
Yet this displeased their gods. Neither wished to see the other’s mortals perish. To that end, they spoke to their followers, commanding the war to end. Yet it was the actions of Zvezda which dulled the fighting most swiftly. A curse of pacificity was cast upon members of both races, and those within that hex were forced to discuss their issues and found their will to fight be lessened greatly.
While this was all and good, for relations between the races, at least locally, it was not as useful when it came to the wandering beasts. While the arrival of Trekain had culled several populations, dangers still lurked in the area, some even coming from below, flying up from the depths. This may partially be related to the actions of Trekain, who created a water source, which fed infinitely in the darkness below, it’s final destination unknown, simply disappearing with no sign of ever reaching a bottom. The only things ever seen to come back from the darkness below are the giant sting bats, cave albatros, winged eyes, and depth floaters. None of which are pleasant guests.
Finally before resting, the two gods improved their lands greatly. Zvezda created a miniature sun which cast light into one section of the cavern. It’s blinding light brought with it sight, true vision like the races were accustomed to, for the first time. Immediately individuals of both races flocked there, and an uneasy peace was had under it’s light, with Arana taking the north, and Veisn taking the south.
Meanwhile, Trekain spread forth his roots, leading them northwestern until they broke into empty air. Yet they did not stop there, they continued growing at incredible speeds, and in sizes unnatural, until they reached the distant lands of the mushroom forest across the gap. They continued to spread, until a loose lattice of roots criss-crossed across the entire area, forming dozens upon dozens of interlocking bridges and pathways above the gaping chasm below. Life began to take root here, mushrooms and mycelium coming to cover parts of the roots, and while it was not truly a mushroom forest, it created an unusual environment where one false step could lead you do fall to your doom, but at the same time, provided a maze of connections.
Satisfied with the improvements to their new home, and with the steps they took towards peace, the isolated gods slept.
Harut and the Watcher
Among devious minds, two plots arose, and one prevailed. The god Harut and the Watcher, born of desperation, had faithfully encountered each other deep within the bowels of the world. With only mild pleasantries, the two forged a pact. They would not harm the peoples of the other.
Yet, Harut was not so quick to trust their new acquaintance. They saw the deplorable state of the humans, the hunger in their eyes, their desperation, nothing for miles could cure that look, could fill their bellies. At least, nothing that didn’t belong to Harut.
Perhaps paranoid, perhaps wise in the harsh realities of the world, a world that had reformed him into the way he now appeared, Harut forged a curved short blade, the nimcha dubbed Nectar, followed by a ring, both bearing Harut’s holy name in a language near incomprehensible to those without the proper knowledge or tools at their disposal.
And, sure enough, a shadow began to creep across the bridge. The Watcher had come, his inky black cloak providing the only inkling of the intent of the darkness within. As the Watcher drew nearer, Harut sprung forth, brandishing Nectar. The Watcher was taken aback, not expecting to engage in divine combat. That mistake cost them dearly, for the first blow was deep. Harut grew closer to the panicked Walker, it’s hot breath of a thousand empty shells swirling around the demon, it’s gentle caress followed shortly by a devastating second cut.
As the situation turned bleak for the Watcher, Harut grew more excited, his collection of shells buzzing with excitement as they drew closer to the Watcher. The climax was approaching, Harut would soon envelop the Watcher in his embrace, a most precious body to become one with himself. Yet, this was not meant to be. As the thousand pincers reached out in a most heavy embrace, the Watcher fled. Unprepared as they were, this was not a fight they could win, nor a fate they could stomach. They fled far north, yet as they ran, Harut, unwilling to allow it’s prize to escape so easily, left the Watcher one more scar. Bloody, and near dead, but not quite, the Watcher escaped. Not beyond the reach of Harut’s influence, but beyond the reach of Nectar’s blade.
Dissatisfied, but exhausted, Harut found it was nearly time for him to rest. And he had not even secured a body to share his bed with. Truly a shame. Yet, there were many others and more opportunity in the future. They reached out and drew close numerous spirits, many lost and confused by the events that drove them underground. The flocked to Harut, and then, Harut did sleep.
Yet the Watcher could not rest yet. His plot to convert some of the crab folk into wild beasts was foiled entirely, and so, ever resourceful he turned to other options. Taking some of his blood, he mixed it with the waters near to him, infusing it with new life, and soon, new death. A terrible plague was cast into the waters, infecting life under the water. Very soon, fish, crustaceans, and strange beasts began floating up to the water’s surface. There it was carefully collected by the lowly and the outcast, the criminals and the vagabonds of the Theocracy. It would be them that bore the danger of collecting the much needed sustenance.
Lastly, the Watcher poured their pain into an accoutrement, a piece of their cloak, sliced by Nectar. The Scars of Nectar would serve as a receptacle for when the Watcher had both the rage and energy to store it within. Yet, now as not that time, for despite their rage, the darkness called to them, and they slept.
Kong-Li
Among the twisting towers of fungi, the first of the demons, Kong-li, rose from his long slumber. His people surrounded him, ready to welcome him into the world. It was indeed a dangerous place, full of beasts and of dangers most foreign. And this made it all the more thrilling.
Unshackled from the holy chains that bound him, Kong-Li ripped them forth from the ground and began to reshape them. No longer chains, but instead, a most terrifying flail which shared the visage of it’s creator. No beast could withstand it’s might, nor could any stand their ground as the demon swung a metal version of it’s head around him.
Flail in hand, Kong-Li set about exterminating the beasts from the local area. He would provide food for his people, and make this area more safe.
Kong-Li had many battles indeed. He fought a dozen of the strange insectoid frogs his people had come to fear. Their unusual movements and unnatural appearance was concerning even for the blood alchemists. He fought a wandering fungal whale, which had made the mistake of entering his territory. It’s flesh would feed his people for a year, if they could preserve it fast enough. And while there were many other battles, smaller and less notable against mantis wolves, swarms of sting bats, salapedes, and so on, his most interesting battle was the one where he encountered what his people called a wilt. This was no mere beast, for it moved with a speed and cunning unlike any natural creature. It’s sickle-like arms outstretched as it ran upon two legs. It had a near humanoid build, but the legs were longer and bent differently, and it’s sunken pale face hunched forward with the torso. Kong-Li found the beast after reports of it’s attacks on his people drew his attention.
The fight was swift, but only due to the strength of the god. In a few moments, Kong-Li struck it not once, nor twice, but thrice. Felling the beast before it could hardly act, much less run.
Satisfied with his many battles, and having provided for his people, Kong-Li turned to the leyline and drew forth many spirits which seemed lost and confused, some even angry. The flocked towards the god and hovered near, taking up residence in the area.
And with that, Kong-Li felt the eyes on his mace begin to close, and soon, so too did his.
Skullflower
Skullflower had felt the strange flow of this world and found they could manipulate the paths of fate. They set the wheels in motion, and they would soon find the fledgling civilization Skullflower was constructing.
Yet for the moment, other mortals were at hand. Skullflower appeared before the fishmen traders and explained who they were to them. Many of the fishmen were deeply confused by this. While they partially understood the concepts of a god, they did not seem to grasp the idea in the fullest. Yet they could recognize power, and they politely listened to the god’s explanation, but gave no definitive answers on becoming worshipers. Some said they would tell others of the offer, but it seemed they did not really see a benefit in following a god when their code of honor had always steered them properly. Afterwards, they returned to their village, having completed their trading with the gorgons.
Skullflower then went among their people and taught them how to farm the vermin of this area. The easiest of them were the mush slugs, a slimy creature which could not flee and could be found in abundance upon rotting mushtrees. Skullflower taught the gorgons to capture these slugs and store them in makeshift containers, dropping in rot for them to sustain themselves. Of course other vermin were available, mice, insects, the occasional rat, several kinds of snails, and the odd land starfish.
Of course, almost no Gorgons made use of this knowledge. They had the pork-wyrms, and cave limpets, plus the fishmen traded them even more food. While this situation wasn’t ideal, as it put a strain on their metal resources, other objects too were traded, instruments, stonework, and other trinkets. Some gorgons even traveled to the fishmen village to help with masonry. This was further impacted by the pride of the gorgons, while there were alternatives, trading, hunting, and raising proper animals, almost none would stoop so low as to eat the slugs and rats of the area.
Even more so was the creation of the Bow of Hungering. This doublebow in the shape of an X could only be fired by a gorgon. Yet it was the bow’s unusual nature that led to it’s success. For the bow itself desired the hunt, it could track prey better than any Gorgon, and would often swing towards it’s target without the wielder doing anything. This further improved upon the ability to hunt, though, the rampant beasts in the area still made this a rather dangerous endeavor.
As time went on the naga surely arrived, but Skullflower saw little of it yet, for it was time to sleep once more.
Azerikof
When Azerikof awoke, they were surrounded by unusual creatures who spoke his name with reverence. They were somewhat devote, especially the greenish ones, yet… this was unusual. They knew his name, his form, where to find him. These creatures, these ticks were… unnerving.
As they closed in around Azerikof, chanting his name, growing closer and closer, Azerikof drew upon his power to create his most powerful of creatures… the distraction!
Across the hex mushrooms of an unusual nature burst forth from the ground, many erupting from the stone and the soil with loud and interesting popping noises, drawing the attention of these followers. In fact, many appeared underneath the encroaching humanoids, providing much needed space for the sleepy god. These many eyed and occasionally blinking mushrooms proved incredibly fascinating to the creatures for some reason.
Next, in an attempt to dissuade them from clustering further, Azerikof gifted what appeared to be their leader a powerful gift. The Rod of the Blood God, a long staff of yellowed bones which granted the user control over flesh. This powerful relic fell into the hands of Gorlingo, who bowed and grovelled joyously at the present. Others clustered near him to secure a look or touch at the mighty relic.
Sensing the distractions were working, Azerikof then fled, north by north west, until they reached an underground lake. Exhausted from their close encounter with those strange mortals, Azerikof fell asleep near immediately.
Neurantal
When Neurantal awoke, they found themselves clothed in a blanket of death and decay. A sweet purple powder shook loose from their body as they reawakened from their sleep. It scattered into the air, floating all about them as they awoke from the slumber of nonexistence. If Neurantal breathed, they would not, for the scent of decrepitude was palpable enough despite the stillness of their lungs.
Yet, while the world was still, it was not quiet. Around Neurantal the sounds of coughing rang loud and abrasive upon the ears, a cacophony of disease. The looked around themselves and saw their people, cloths drawn close upon the face, only the eyes revealed. They spoke in horse whispers and dark tone. Not only had the world darkened, but so had the souls of the Vrinari.
Yet not all was dark in this eternal night. The laugh of child, the work of the craftsmen, the heave-ho of the builders as they erected their defenses amid the darkness’ cloak, preparing for the dagger they knew lurked, but could not yet see. Much was the life of the Vrinari. Specks of light amid an endless darkness. Yet the dark was only one danger, and not even that, it was a vessel for danger. No, the sickness was the danger that scared the Vrinari.
And this was what Neurantal sought to cure. When he arrived, he gifted Arten a lidded box, and told him to open it. When he did slimy worms squirmed out of the container, and as Arten looked around, they began to crawl forth from the corpses of the infected, from the rotten fungal trees, and from the earth. They began to eat at the rot, not only across the earth, but upon the people as well. Slowly, their disease began to fade, even if their scars did not.
Neurantal looked upon his people and taught them the secrets of disease. How they could be contracted, how they could be cured, how they lived, and how they died. He gave his people weapons so that they may defend themselves. Yet, this was not the only weapon in Neurantal’s arsonal. He granted his people one last gift. A powerful axe, capable of felling even the larger of the mushroom trees. With his eyes set upon the towering fungal giants, Neurantal returned to his sleep.
Chromaticwing
When Chromaticwing awoke, they could feel how divided their people were. They had always been divided in thought and in ethics, but this was more literal. A large amount of his population had been taken prisoner by some horrible creatures which used the cover of darkness and the swiftness of flight to bypass peafowlian defenses.
He created his chosen one, Cowlia a powerful artifact. The Seeker Bow. This bow was crafted of flower and root, even the arrows knocked upon it’s string would grow flowers before they flew through the air. This powerful weapon would be used to free Cowlia’s people. Most of those who had been taken were of the Worker’s Union anyways, and their prowess with the physical labors would be needed if they were to survive the sleep of the god.
Yet the rest of the peafowlians could not be forgotten. They needed food, and Chromaticwing intended to correct that. They created the enhanciroom, a strange glowing fungus which had a the aroma one would expect from a spice market, and a flavor to match. Quickly some peafowlians came to love enhanciroom tea, for it’s natural heat that warmed their bodies.
Lastly, right as the god returned to sleep, they wrapped themselves in a jade blanket, covering their body. While they slept, they metamorphosed into a jade idol.
Acter
When Acter awoke, he was lost and confused, so far away from the troon and most of his people. All that remained was this motley crew of refugees, who where wholey unprepared for life underground. They had brought supplies yes, but not what they would need to live a subterranean life in its entirety, the way the sciro’s ancestors had done.
Acter, in their wisdom, saw the peoples and their problems. The sciro would be the best off, for they were used to this life, to at least some degree. Yet the incilatro were a people of the sky. An the Aedens are not used to life underground either.
Acter gifted his hero Zev the Hunter’s Staff. A long spearshaft with many engravings, which marked its dimensions. Secondly, he granted the Butcher’s Knife to his people, a magical blade which allowed one to more easily butcher creatures.
Then finally before he slept, he went among his people and explained weapondry of new types to them. This world was strange and the methods of fighting in the jungle would do poorly here, except in the dense mushroom forests. He taught his people of the hunter’s staff and it’s component parts, the sword and the spear. This was not a particularly difficult teaching, for conceptually, they’re longer daggers or daggers on sticks. His people seemed to catch onto the idea, at least theoretically, quite quickly.
With new ideas in mind and new relics in hand, Acter fell asleep and his people continued on in darkness.
Author
Topic: Sanctuary IC (Read 2128 times)