Topic: Godhood VII - Era of the Phoenix Game Thread (Read 10753 times)

Digital Hellhound · « **Reply #15 on:** August 06, 2012, 05:24:06 am »

This time, the blinded serpent had won, coiled tight around the other two. In their arrogance, they'd never suspected it could pose a threat. A few moments passed in the clearing underneath the cliffs in silence, the trapped snakes still struggling in vain against their captor. Then, slowly, they came to a halt.

A few minutes later, the snakes would be gone. A god would take their place.

---

'I bet we're going to catch a bear!' Guil whispered excitedly into Allem's ear as they drew to a halt along the twisting, overgrown path.

'I heard one of the elders say they'd heard Screamers by the river,' Allem replied. 'I've always wanted to shoot one of those.'

'Screamers? This far below the mountains? Nah. And they're not good eating, anyhow,' the other boy said, like he knew what he was talking about. The truth was their only knowledge of the strange spiders came from chance meetings with tribes beyond the Dead Mountain, but neither was going to admit that.

'We're not going to catch anything if you two don't shut up,' Gudrin, the old hunter, said, raising his spear. 'Now quiet. Something's coming down the path.'

They were both merely fifteen, barely men yet. Gudrin had agreed to show them a few tricks, teach them about tracks, about the wind, and the use of a bow and spear. This was custom, but that didn't mean he liked it. He liked the hunt because of the solitude, and right now these two brats who didn't even remember a time before Toman and his line were wrecking his focus. There was someone coming down the path, though, of that he was sure.

After a few more whispers, the boys fell silent. Gudrin thanked the spirits and listened, absorbing the sounds of the woods into him. One by one, they fell away, until there was only the tap-tap-tap of someone walking at a brisk pace towards them. He knew the sounds of animals and men, and this was definitely the latter. He kept his spear up anyway. Chief Donon had told them to kill all Whisperers on sight after a skirmish a few weeks ago. The hunters of their tribe rarely came this far into their territory, but you could never know.

The footsteps came closer and closer. Gudrin raised his gaze just in time to see him coming around the corner.

'Good to see you, Gudrin,' the stranger said. 'Allem, Guil. Out hunting the Ember, are we?'

Gudrin blinked. The newcomer was a man of indeterminate age, with clean-cut, handsome features and eyes as dark as the night, clad in simple clothes and hides. The spirit-stone hanging around his neck was nearly identical to his own, except there were three serpents instead of one. Gudrin had never seen him before in his entire life.

'Who...?' he started, but trailed off. He prided himself on having a near-perfect memory, but right then he felt an odd nagging feeling in the back of his mind, fragments of some past event he couldn't quite put his mind on.

'Gudrin? Are you quite alright? It's me, Aulon. You've known me for your entire life,' the stranger said, raising a quizzical eyebrow.

The words were the truth, he knew that now. Memories began to flood into his mind. This was Dagi's second son, wasn't he? Of course he knew him. He'd seen the boy grow, seen him become a skilled hunter and a dependable if overenthuastic youth, seen him...

Gudrin frowned. Dagi didn't have a second son. What was happening to him? He clutched his head, trying to make sense of his conflicting memories.

'He didn't say,' Guil suddenly piped up behind him. 'But I guess we must be.'

It took him a moment to realize the boy was replying to the stranger's question. Hunting the Ember? That was ridiculous. The thing was just a story, anyway, but many men had died searching for it. They said Toman himself had fallen that way.

'Good! I know where it is!' the stranger said.

It took a moment for this to sink in, but when it did, the dams broke. His mind went blank, a tiny voice screaming warnings in the back of his mind, and when he came back to his senses, he knew something had changed.

'Aulon, if this is another of your schemes...' he started, remembering what the stranger - stranger? Where had that come from? - had done during the sacrifice last year.

'I can take you to it,' Aulon said, grinning. 'There's only a few days to there from here. We can hunt on the way.'

Gudrin was about to say no, but he felt himself warming to the idea in a strange way. It couldn't hurt. He'd planned to go exploring, anyway. He shrugged instead. The boys, following his lead, made similar gestures of indifference. Aulon beamed.

'Right. Follow me!'

And they did, rushing after the god they knew they'd known their entire lives.

---

The man claimed to be following the Ember's tracks, but Gudrin could see no such things. When Guil joked Aulon was leading the group by scent alone, he'd just smiled and nodded.

It took three days, moving seemingly at random across the vast forests they called home. They hunted as they went, even taking down a wounded bear together with Gudrin's guidance. The old hunter didn't know the terrain, but Aulon seemed to. They saw no other tribes as they moved, but plenty of game to catch and eat.

At the end of the third day, Aulon stopped, closing his eyes and breathing in like he smelled something wonderful. There was a clearing up ahead, frequented by the bears judging from the droppings and tracks in the soft soil.

'This is the place,' the man breathed, taking a wary step towards the clearing.

'How do you know?' Allem asked.

'The signs are obvious,' Aulon said, without further explanation. He seemed irritated by the question, like he didn't want to dwell on it. Gudrin had noticed it before with similar inquiries. 'Wait, and see.'

With that, he picked up his pace and marched into the clearing.

---

The Archer leads some of the hunters of the Toman tribe to find Venórr's clearing

Ardas · « **Reply #16 on:** August 07, 2012, 04:32:38 pm »

Aradan observed the village of his worshippers, recently awoken from the slumber. For a being of divine power, Aradan thought it illogical to sleep. But maybe even his divine mind did not know everything, still in its infancy.

His people prospered, growing slowly, and weaving stories and predictions for the future. The Phoenix that plagued all sentients of this world was a threat that Aradan had to destroy. Or so was the mind of the villagers. The mysteries were and questions were endless, and it would be some time before the prophecy is revealed to be true or not. But Aradan was content with maintaining his hold over them.

He stretched his eagle wings and flew high over the land again, looking out for other peoples, of whom stories he heard, many a night as the travellers and traders form other lands came back to Aradon.

He flies high over the land and sees bizarre animals, the kapyts from the stories of greed and jealousy. Aradan hated the creatures not, but their creator thought little of potential consequences. In Aradan's eyes they were a living proof of wealth ill-distributed. He turned his eagle eye away and soared above the forests again.

Another people he encounters are doing the most fascinating thing: they turn over the earth and control the growth of plants, which then they seemed to store and eat afterwards. They were hard-working and filled with honesty for their work. Aradan knew not of the idea of ploughing the land, but he saw the value of the effort that was put into this. Humans showed themselves to be able to do both good and bad. One was generated by envy and easy pickings, the other cultivated through hard labour.
Aradan thought of these people and their divine guide as future allies. He would forget them not.

The friends of knowledge, as Alandians were known to everyone , were another wondrous people that Aradan encountered and immediately recognised as wisely guided by another kindred spirit. Their divine gift however, was squandered to an extent that they held tightly onto it, refusing to share what was clearly intended for universal use. Nonetheless, it was not their Patron’s fault but theirs. Contact had to be made with him too.

Further flight revealed another tribe, that of Toman, whose ambition was both intriguing and strange to Aradan. He understood the power over others, but did not understand the lust for power that was destructive in the end. The contradiction such as that could only be held by mortals. This tribe shall not receive a blessing, but a warning. Order must prevail over ambition, otherwise ambition turns to chaos.

The Latia tribe that Aradan saw from high above was a mighty one , but driven by fear. Screamers, creatures disgusting in Aradan’s eyes were but the only thing that drove the tribe. Their aim was survival, but not greatness. They had to be reformed if they were to throw off the web of darkness that the spider god intended for them. Just as eagles hunt for mice and other vermin, so did Aradan decided to hunt down screamers.

He saw others too: hunters, hunted, gods minor and their demigod offspring. He had no interest in them, their being influencing their worshippers in ways small and chaotic. He saw tricksters and wanderers, and even though he had no sympathy for them, he knew they were needed too. Opportunity is the other side of chaos, and as such had to be embraced.
Divine animals and divine hunters stalked each other, revelling in the mortal plane and taking part in the deadly dance of nature. They had their place and stuck to it, Aradan saw no need to intervene there. Forest was the rightful domain of these beasts, and it would take much effort for it to be conquered; that was the lot of the mortals.

Having circled the skies around the continent and viewing what has occurred and what has happened, Aradan knew that his message must spread. The shamans of the tribe already woven a vision of Aradan’s victory over fiery bird; others must know before that time comes.
Aradan decided to push his people outward. His blessing on the carriers of the message would be an invisible mark of his ownership over them, and a call to other divines to reach out and heed the word. The Mark of the Apostle would protect them from harm on their way and would give them the gift of tongues and eloquence.
They would be shielded from harm, and in turn their feet would carry the message further than any single divine act could.
But Mark of the Apostle carried with it a burden too: Just as the Phoenix invaded the minds of all newly adult, so would a dream of a bird of prey, surrounded by light and aura of tranquillity burden the minds of the apostles, urging them to go outwards. But only the priests of the Aradan would receive the Mark, having the understaning of the order and what the dream meant.

Aradan blesses his shamans and priests with the Mark of the Apostle. It’s an invisible aura, granting the Apostles ability to speak in the language of the given audience, wherever he may be, great charisma when preaching of Aradan’s prophecy and great urge to go outwards and preach. It would give them also a minor protection, shielding them from random harm and chaos while travelling. All divines would recognise the aura and be able to connect with Aradan by coming in contact with the apostle.

Lordinquisitor · « **Reply #17 on:** September 16, 2012, 09:04:03 am »

"Where`s my flock?" The raven thought upon awakening and paused for a moment.

I`m stupid again. I`m no Raven. I`m Nihilus and i`m more than an ordinary raven.

His form changed into that of a human again and Nihilus looked at the area around him. Right, here i sat listening to my ravens before i fell asleep. But where are they now? He called out for his ravens, but he could scarcely sense them. Only a few remain; and those which remain are spread out. What happened to my flock?

This was the first question he asked when a fire raven finally found him. Others followed and soon enough his mind was filled with strange tales and knowledge.

Apparently i`m not alone in this world, after all. His ravens told him that the mortals distrust and hunt them down; And this did concern Nihilus, but the most interesting tales he heard were those about other beings like him, about strange events and change happening all around the world.

They must be gods, just like me. What shall i do? Find them, they are your flock. But somehow he didn`t want to meet them right now. I have to learn more about them. What are their motivations? What are their goals?

Idle toughts. In time they will find me, or i will be ready to meet them myself. There`s something else i have to take care of. Will i fall asleep again? And if so, when?

This sleep could prove to be annoying. Due to it his Ravens had been decimated and his influence had waned. If he wanted to influence the world he would have to find a way to prevent the sleep, or..

Yes, that could work.And i will finally have a flock of my own design.

And so the Spirit of Change was born.

The Spirit of change is an etheral, invisible, being. It isn`t a true creature, but rather like a force of nature. It is sentient but it`s mind is unlike that of any god or mortal- It has no personal goals and scarcely any personality; It`s only desire is to promote change and to serve Nihilus.

The Spirit of change has the ability to influence people and the world around it. It`s mere presence can change the way the world resolves around it- This isn`t done in any big and fancy way, but through subtle manipulation.

Example; While the Spirit of Change is present a notorious thief might suddenly decide not to use an opportunity to steal something valuable. Or an otherwise loyal and brave soldier might decide to run away from the field of battle. An otherwise healthy plant might suddenly wither and die or a wind blowing from north to south might suddenly blow from south to north.
Those subtle changes have the ability to change the whole world.
The Spirit of Change can either promote change per se, but can also try to force specific changes which further the goals of Nihilus.

The spirit is invisible and can`t be perceived by mortals, but it`s presence can be felt to a certain extent. Mortals near it will feel that change lies in the air. Gods are able to see the Spirit, (And people who have been granted special powers by them should be able to, too.) and will perceive it as a "strange mist of many colors" which engulfs the area.

The Spirit of Change influences the world subtly wherever he goes. He can also choose to "possess" a mortal directly. This doesn`t put the Spirit in charge of the mortal, though, the "vessel" retains his free will, but his behavior might change drastically. In this case the overall effect of the spirit on his surroundings will almost completely fade away, though, since his whole power and influence is being channelled into a single being. If a God would look at a "possessed" mortal it would look like he was engulfed in some kind of mist.

The Spirit of Change can speak, but only the Fireravens, Nihilus and other Gods are able to hear his words. Thus the Spirit of change might use the fireravens as a way to communicate with mortals (Or with Nihilus, if the distance between them grows too great.)

When spoken to the Spirit of Change will echo Nihilus will.

The Spirit of Change is also directly linked to Nihilus. In fact; It contains a bit of his soul, essence and power. While Nihilus is awake it can thus act as an extention of his range and influence, but while he sleeps he is able to keep influencing the world. (Like a "weaker" version of Nihilus.)

The Spirit of Change doesn`t age and requires no nourishment. Or rather, the nourishment it needs is change, but as long as the world isn`t completely static he won`t starve. Being directly tied to Nihilus makes him also immortal- Or at least rather hard to kill. A dedicated God might find a way to banish or destroy it, and the Spirit of Change has no real way to defend itself at the moment. (Except by possessing someone.)

//

For the moment the Spirit of Change is tasked with the following orders:

1. He is tasked with seeking out Feinor, one of the few who listens to the Ravens. Through the Ravens he is to speak with Feinor, telling him to spread the faith in Nihilus. The Spirit of change will use his powers to "even the way" for Feinor.

2. While he helps Feinor the Spirit of Change isn`t supposed to stay in one area for too long since this would force too much change. So while he is supposed to help Feinor he is also tasked with visiting other areas and towns from time to time. If leaving Feinor isn`t viable at any given time the Spirit of Change will instead possess someone nearby, mayhaps even Feinor itself, in order to reduce his influence on the area around him.

3. IF Feinor isn`t interested in serving Nihilus or proves to be too incompetent to do so the Spirit of Change will try to lead other people towards the belief in Nihilus.

Iituem · « **Reply #18 on:** September 22, 2012, 12:21:07 pm »

The young man tried to keep his breathing steady, but the darkness pressed in around him. The firebrand in his hand brought some respite, but he could barely see the stone beneath his feet. Here and there the flickering light would highlight something for a moment before the darkness rushed back in to seal it away; a cobweb, a drawing in charcoal on the wall, a femur stripped of flesh. The man hastened on until he felt he had walked far enough, then sat down on the stone - much warmer than he had expected for the early spring. He brought the firebrand in front of him as he had been taught, then dropped it and screamed.

He couldn't actually see the woman opposite's face, but he got the strong impression of a level, unamused glare before she turned her attention to the firebrand. The burning piece of wood had fallen, not to the bare stone as expected, but into a bowl of some sort of brilliant, shining stone - thin as a wooden bowl, but traced with lines like a cobweb. The young man managed to stop screaming and stared at the woman in rapt amazement. She looked to be some twenty winters, and her clothing was spun of some dull grey variant of screamer silk. The man looked down at the silk snare tied at his waist to compare, then back up at the woman.

Her face was covered almost completely by long, dead-straight grey hair. Quite apart from that, he found he could not even look directly at where her eyes would be for very long before a growing sense of dread forced his eyes away. He could just make out her lips, but that was all. He was therefore quite surprised when her voice sounded entirely normal.

"What is your name?" she asked.

"Marius," replied the young man, a little more quickly than he'd intended. One corner of the woman's mouth curled up slightly. It wasn't really a smile.

"Hah." It wasn't really a laugh. "Good name."

"Um, thanks. Are you...?"

"Yes," said Valeia.

"Right. Does this normally-"

"No. Be grateful."

"That it's happening to me, or that it doesn't normally happen?"

"Yes." That was definitely a smile. "What are you afraid of?"

"Well, lots of things. Wolves, nightmares, spiders, falling off a tree, fear itself-"

"Don't waste my time." And the smile was gone again. "Those things concern you, you are not afraid of them. You do not run from them-"

"No, I really do run from wolves-"

"If you interrupt me, I will kill you where you sit."

Marius said nothing.

"Better. You do not run from these things when there is no reason to. You do not panic in the face of them. You have fought wolves, you have ignored spiders. You look like you can handle a tree. Nobody fears fear, even if they should. You are a warrior, yes?" A pause. "You can answer that."

"Yes, like my father and brother."

"Your father did not die well, did he?"

"Surely you should know-"

The firebrand burst, spraying hot embers onto Marius' lap. He hurriedly patted them out as the stick of wood went back to glowering.

"Not the sort of question you're supposed to answer. Your father did not die well, did he?" A pause. "No, and though that haunts you that isn't what brought you here, is it? Men come here to face fear, to be strengthened by it. Did you come here to face fear? Did you come here for strength?"

The firebrand went out. Darkness fell like a curtain. All around Marius, spiders began to chitter softly in the hundreds.

"Or are you just running from your fears outside? Think carefully, Marius; this is definitely the sort of question you're supposed to answer."

The chittering started to grow in volume. Soon enough they would begin to scream. The darkness pressed in again, harder than it did before. Marius ran through answers in his head, trying to find the right one to placate the mad deity before him. Tiny legs started crawling over his skin. He looked blindly for the goddess in the dark, felt the place his eyes did not want to see and forced himself to look right at that spot before he spoke.

"Yes."

A pause.

"Hah." That... might or might not have been a laugh. It was followed by another, a moment later. Then another and another, until the goddess was laughing like one of the dogs from the southern savannahs. As she laughed an ember glowed somewhere in the dark, followed by another and another as the darkness drained away from the chamber. Marius' eyes adjusted to their new surroundings; a wide open cavern with a flat basin - more tunnels led in other directions, still dark. Dotted around the chamber were stone bowls of similar design to the silver one in front of him, each burning away on some anonymous fuel. The bowl in front of him remained dark, though; an inky black fluid lay within the curve of the bowl.

"Good answer. Now tell me what you meant by it, in case you think smart words will get you out of this."

"I don't want to be chief. I am, I have to be. I fear - I am concerned by what would become of our people if my brother took control of the clan. He is rash and his judgements are motivated by a need to prove himself, no matter the cost. I need the strength to lead my people, to carry out my father's legacy. Varus, my brother, has the will but not the wisdom. He would lead our people out against the clans who hunted our grandfathers, away from the protection of the forest, take on battles too great for us to overcome."

"That is what needs to happen, Marius. The Latia cannot remain in this forest forever, or they will have traded an open plain for a cage. Would you choose safety or power?"

"I would choose both! I do not oppose us reaching out, but there is a difference between running away because you are scared and retreating because to do otherwise would be suicide! Varus would take our strongest out to fight, pit them against tribes like the Tomani for the sake of glory, and not stop until he or all of our men were dead."

"There, then, is your courage." Valeia let the revelation sink in, then continued. "You wished to be both safe and strong, and you are wise enough not to abandon your home because it can be a cage. My word to you, then, is to both leave the forest and remain within it. Each year take a seventh of your strongest, those who have survived my test. Send them out into the world to prove themselves, or else to bring back tributes or defend against the greater foes. Let them stay away for a year, then return. On that day, send out another seventh. The rest remain to watch and keep the forest. In this way, you will keep your tribe strong. Have them explore, have them learn. Do not be isolated; take what you can from the other tribes, not only in food and treasure but in their means and ways.

"And each year, when the testing has been done, you will receive a gift as this one." Valeia lifted the silver bowl from the cavern floor and placed it in Marius' open hands. "That is your fear, your strength as well. It is the shadow that lies between courage and terror. Lay a bowl in my sanctum, and those who pass the test will find a gift as this. Have each of the chosen seventh spread it on the outskirts of the forest, where your enemies might wait for you to emerge, but keep a seventh of the fluid safe with them on their travels. When they find a place as this, a cave where fear might dwell and the worthy might be tested, have them burn the liquid as they would firewood - the fire will sanctify that cave and there also my will may be known.

"A final warning; do not drink the fluid within. Even one who has passed my test has much to fear from what lies within. Now go, you must lead by example. You will be the first to venture forth, spreading six-sevenths of this shadow upon the ground and finding a new home for the seventh. Your brother will rule in your stead, and if you do not care for what he does in your absence then you will find you have grown stronger from the year away.

"Now go."

Darkness flooded back into the chamber. Marius found himself unable to see a single thing, but he could feel the silver bowl in his hands and hear the faint sloshing of the liquid within. He felt his way to the entrance and emerged to the dawn light.

When morning came, he delivered the news to his people and placed them in his brother's care. He journeyed to the edge of the forest and there scattered the black liquid across the earth with his fingertips, spraying it finely along the ground. Marius tipped the last seventh into a stoppered gourd and carried it alongside his waterskin as he set out into the world.

A year later...

Varus stood at the edge of the forest, watching the horizon. A year ago, in this place, his brother had scattered the goddess' blessing on the ground. Where the shadow had fallen, trees had risen in their place. They seemed tangled, more knotted and treacherous than the rest of the forest, but the trees had nevertheless grown some twenty years of growth in one.

Valeia instructs the leader of the Latia to go into exile for a year and face the world, that he might inspire others to do the same.

She instructs him to institute a system whereby a seventh of able-bodied adult males engage in this trial, once every seven years, to keep the tribe strong and avoid becoming too insular. Conquest and tributes are encouraged.

She gifts umbrine to the Latia.

Spoiler: Umbrine (click to show/hide)

Atilliano · « **Reply #19 on:** September 22, 2012, 01:46:31 pm »

The four hunters marched into the clearing, three of them not knowing they were being watched, two of them young and unskilled, but all of them wary.
This place was once home to one of the many tribes in this area; that much was obvious. There were many overgrown and abandoned huts in the middle of the clearing,
and the place was littered with long-gone bodies of which only the bones remained. Boulders large enough to hide a bear were scattered all around.
They advanced slowly towards the huts and even the two boys were silent. They got to the middle of the abandoned village without encountering a thing.

''Well, I don’t see any legendary bear-spirit, Aulon. In fact, I don’t see anything at all. I think you-''

Gudrin was interrupted as they all noticed a creature jumping up on one of the rocks, watching them with a combination of curiosity and violence in its eyes.
It was a strange mix of a bear and a wolf, something he had never seen before in his entire lifetime. Fear crept up on him and he shivered.
Could that be the Ember? His question was quickly answered as another one of those things appeared from behind a rock, and then a third, and a fourth.
Within a matter of seconds they were surrounded by a pack of about twelve of the strange creatures, each bigger than the last, and all of them hungry.

''Gudrin, have you ever seen things like that?'' Guil asked. ''What do you think Guil?'' Gudrin answered. ''They’re just standing there, watching us…'' Allem noticed.

Gudrin could tell from their voices that they were terrified and he feared that the creatures would notice this as well.
For a few moments nothing happened, then one of them, probably the pack leader, let out a sound that was like the howl of a wolf and roar of a bear combined,
and the pack began its attack...

Vénorr creates Kapach’s; half-bear, half-wolf creatures that live in large packs. They are very strong and tough, pretty intelligent and work together as a team.
However, they’re also scared of fire, and with a bit of luck and know-how, tamable animals.
They usually stay away from humans, but will defend their territory to the death if they must.

Vénorr makes one pack attack the hunters in the clearing.

Digital Hellhound · « **Reply #20 on:** October 16, 2012, 11:37:48 am »

The creature's howl slammed into Gudrin's pitiful, human frame and reveberated up his spine, filling his senses with sound, smell and spittle. Humid, steaming breath hung in the air between them, spilling out of the thing's mouth and nostrils. He stared unblinking, hypnotized. Little details leapt out to him - the monster's black-grey fur, speckled with dirt and ash, and its gleaming teeth. Malevolent eyes stared at him from deep in the beast's skull.

'Down,' came Aulon's voice, full of steel. Gudrin made no objection, throwing himself flat. He came down on the dirt, hard, air escaping in a burst from his lungs. Above him, a vast shadow passed, the earth moving from its charge. He heard the crash and tumble as it came down and pushed himself up. Thoughts came slowly, tainted by fear. He fell on his instincts. A burnt-out hut, ahead, the doorway still standing. He rushed forward, stepping awkwardly, his feet twisting under him. Gudrin stumbled inside, hearing more roars from behind him and feeling the earth shake. A more human voice, full of païn, followed. He didn't dare turn to see who it was.

The inside of the hut was open to the sky - clouds were gathering, a dark, shifting wall that seemed to be moving all too fast - and overgrown with vines and greenery to hide the ash away. It was a pitifully small construction, a far cry from the Tomani longhouses in the chieftains' village. No signs of its inhabitants remained. Everything but the remnants of walls had been claimed by the flames.

Movement flashed across his sight, two hulking shapes rushing in from the woods. Gudrin took a step back, breathing hard. He felt pain from his palm and realized he was still holding his spear, oh-so-tight. He eased his grip and brought it to a defensive position, turning back towards where he came from.

Out in the open one of the great beasts, its fur streaked with silver, collapsed with a mournful cry, blood trailing from its throat. Aulon threw himself back from it, his dagger black with the stuff. He was laughing, his voice carrying even over the beasts' roars. His face was red and his clothes stained by sweat and blood, but that seemed to bother him little. There was madness in his eyes beyond anything Gudrin had ever seen before. He snapped around and met Gudrin's gaze evenly before leaping back into the fray. The old hunter searched for the youths among the swirling battle. Allem's body he found sprawled against another hut on the opposite side of the clearing. He hadn't gotten far before the creatures had cut him down. Guil was nowhere to be seen.

He averted his gaze - and brought it face-to-face with another hulking beast. It growled at him from behind the burnt-out hut wall. How had it moved so quietly?

Gudrin threw the spear, the world slowing down for him. The beast moved too, but not quite fast enough, not this time. The impact of the hit travelled up his arm before the beast's vast body connected with him, its momentum carrying it into and through the other wall, dragging Gudrin with it. The creature's heavy bulk pressed upon him and its animal stench filled his nostrils, making him gag. He fell upon the cold earth again. The beast carried on, smashing into another ruined wall. The spear's shaft pushed against the wood and dug itself deeper into the animal's skull. Gudrin knew it was dead before it realized this itself.

He would have loved to lay there for a second more, but that would mean death. He could feel another monster approaching to avenge the others' deaths. Gudrin pushed himself up and moved.

---

When silence had fallen upon the clearing once more, Gudrin was amazed to find himself still alive. He was as amazed, however, to find Aulon sitting calmly in the doorway of a hut - a tiny ball of pale grey fur wrapped under his arm. Curious eyes peered up at him as he approached, a far more friendly sight than the hulking beasts its parents had been. He spotted another cub sleeping beside Aulon the dirt. They seemed perfectly content among the bodies of their fallen kin, their guts and blood spread all over the clearing. Aulon had been terrifyingly skilled with his blade and had weaved and dodged through the beasts' attacks. He'd barely been scratched.

'Who are you?' Gudrin mouthed, watching the calm, perfectly tame animals. Aulon seemed not to hear him. He repeated the question, fear gnawing at his mind.

The man looked pained for a moment. He opened his mouth to speak, but shook his head. Aulon raised his gaze to meet Gudrin's. Under those fierce eyes, Gudrin felt his confidence, born out of shock and the dreamlike quality of it all, flowing away. The third question died in his mouth.

'These creatures will be a great boon to the tribe if properly taught,' Aulon simply said. Gudrin found himself nodding along. The other man continued. 'Catch them young. Do not let them taste human flesh. Make them docile. The tribe must learn this.'

'What about the Ember?' Gudrin asked dumbly. Aulon didn't answer, shaking his head gently.

'We'll return to the tribe. Leave those two,' he said at last, gesturing towards the dead youths. Gudrin tried to muster an objection, but something was pressing on his thoughts, driving his mouth to say the things it wanted, like characters from a tale. He needed to get away from this... man? Creature? As quickly as possible.

Aulon set off back into the forest, trailed by his cubs, and Gudrin followed.

---

The hunters, mainly the Archer/Aulon, slaughter and drive off the pack. Aulon captures some Kapach cubs and tames them with his divine powers. The hunters return to the tribe to teach the taming of the Kapach, before Aulon the human fades away and leaves behind only confused memories and legend...

Caesar · « **Reply #21 on:** February 11, 2013, 12:46:16 pm »

Teneia teaches Lilith about morality and how to live amongst humans. – One act

Alandios creates Alandian Owls and gives them several Alandium crystals with a recording explaining how to use them. – One act

Spoiler: Alandian owls (click to show/hide)

Alandios tasks the Alandian owls to present one of the alandium crystals to every major tribe. -Zero acts

The Broker transforms several men from the destroyed tribe of the Kapyt into 'Hunters'. – One act

Spoiler: Hunter (click to show/hide)

The Broker tries to spread knowledge of the Pact of the Hunter to several shamans, but reaches only one, the Toman shaman named 'Ihanet', due to a lack of divine strength. - Zero acts

Spoiler: The Pact of the Hunter (click to show/hide)

Unsobar's Archer persona leads several hunters of the Toman tribe to Vénorr's clearing, using his divine instincts to guide him. – Zero acts

Aradan blesses his shaman with the Mark of the Apostle. – One act

Spoiler: Mark of the Apostle (click to show/hide)

Nihilus creates the Spirit of Change, and orders it to seek out Feinor, and through him, spread knowledge of Nihilus' existence, as well as facilitate change. – One act

Spoiler: Spirit of Change (click to show/hide)

Valeia instructs the leader of the Latia, a man called Varus, to go into exile for a year and face the world, that he might inspire others to do the same. – Number of acts no longer relevant
Valeia instructs Varus to institute a system in which a seventh of the able-bodied adult males engage in this trial, once every seven years, to keep the Latia strong and avoid that they might become too insular. Conquest and tributes are encouraged. – Number of acts no longer relevant

Vénorr creates several packs of Kapaches. – One act

Spoiler: Kapach (click to show/hide)

Vénorr directs a few Kapaches towards Unsobar's Archer persona and the hunters he brought with him. – Zero acts

Unsobar's Archer persona, manifested as Aulon, directly intervenes to slay the Kapaches assaulting the hunters. One hunter, Gudrin, survives. Unsobar teaches him how to tame the animals and sends him home with two cubs. – One act

Turn Two: Souls

Here I remain, in anticipation of our future. Will it be millenia or tens of thousands of years? Or perhaps it will be even longer? Am I, mayhap, already running out of time? Oh, dear mother, please do tell me that you are coming. I am waiting for you, preparing for you. Fires run bright, and that which you wish to subdue will destroy you. The power you once wielded will be wielded against you, for your sword is now my sword, and it rests firmly in my hands. Look as their power grows, as they become stronger and better, together, than your invidual self. Gawk as I seize their hearts, as I whisper the truth into their ears, as I turn their eyes up so that they may stand witness of the horror that you truly are inside. My mother, my progenitor, I remember how you cast me away, how you deemed me naught but a monstrosity, a corruption of your pureness. I have garnered that feeling, and as I stored it within myself, it empowered me. I have, indeed, become that which you hate, that which you have once made yours, mother. My father was your antisphere, he was that which is anathema to you. I am him, I am you. I am unyielding, I am perfect in my imperfection. I feel your eyes on the world, I feel your lust to possess, your desire to order, to command, to own. And I know that soon, like myself, you will move a pawn, and a deadly game of chess will commence. Know that you can not win this game, for without my king, you are void. In your endeavor to defeat me, you will checkmate us both.

"Checkmate!" Feinor cried out, and the child groaned. It was already several years ago that Feinor got the idea for this game, carving a board and pieces from the readily available wood. He looked thriumphantly at his shaman, who could only move in diagonal lines. The child had lost his spouse quickly, and the chieftain had fallen shortly after. The child laughed, making jokes and calling Feinor names – Feinor allowed these things, despite his position in the tribe, for his father would have done no less but encourage it – and then said goodbye, rushing off to his mother. This mother was not Feinor's wife, unfortunately, and the child was not his. He had no children. It was indeed true that his wife was among the most beautiful and intelligent of the tribe – in fact, he believed that she far surpassed him – but their union had not produced any children as of yet. And they had been trying for almost two years. Thinking about the subject grieved him, and he cleared his mind with a sigh. He made his way to the patch of trees near the river where his father had once departed this world, gracing him with the responsibilities of the Alandian shaman. He often dreamed of the memory, of casting an orb into his fathe- into the river. He felt regret at this action, for that crystal had been the last remaining thing he had had left of his father; his fathers voice, intangible locked in a tangible object eternally. On the other hand, he was done mourning. He was doing that which his father would have done, and under his spiritual and knowledgeable guidance the tribe had prospered.

When he arrived in the clearing several minutes later he found a fire raven waiting for him. The Alandian owls were nowhere to be seen, which was normal during the day, for they tended to come out at twilight. Just as he wanted to sit down and meditate on the problems of the tribe – A child had gotten lost, a hunter had fallen ill to infection; and there were many more matters worthy of his attention – he noticed an abnormality. To his surprise, a thin mist was making its way along the river, straight towards him. Only when it reached him did it stop. Feinor stared wide-eyed the mist addressed the raven. "Tell this mortal that a spirit wishes to speak with him." The raven, in turn, cawked at Feinor. "My friend, another servant of my master has come to speak with you, through me. Please, hear his words."

It took Feinor over a minute to act, but when he acted, he startled both the raven and the spirit when he looked at and spoke with the mist directly. "Very well, then. What is your business?" The spirit recovered its posture quickly. "Let us discuss this matter over a match of your game, chess." Feinor examined the being momentarily, then nodded slowly, sitting down and crossing his legs. He offered the spirit the white side, which it gladly accepted. Feinor explained the game, and they played in silence. The spirit was beaten without a sweat, and they started another game, then a third. It was during the third game that it spoke again. "You must have heard of Lilith, the Prowler?" the spirit inquired, moving one of its pieces ponderously. Change was patient, and so was this manifestation of its power. "You are known for your extensive knowledge of the world, acquired through my master's ravens. Do enlighten me, wh-" Before the apparition could finish its question, Feinor started to speak, his voice calm and steady, interrupted only to move the pieces.

It had been years ago since Lilith had last spoken with her mother. Like she had before, her mother now slept, somewhere beyond Lilith's vision, beyond her understanding. But she had taught her, she had been there. And when her mother was with her, she felt better, she felt understood and not alone. Even now, she felt watched over and protected. She felt special, and while her hate for herself, for men, for people, had left its scars, it no longer burned with the large open fire with which it had burned before. She looked up, her eyes resting on a raven for a moment. Its beak was a bright red. Had her mother not told her about those? Yes, she told her that these ravens had come from somewhere further away, from the Tribe of the Raven, across the mountains. They were, supposedly, the creation of another goddess. Lilith herself was a half-goddess, she knew.

Her eyes still rested on the man cutting down the tree. She had been watching this man for several months now, always from the shadows, or from the cover of the trees. He enchanted her. One of his companions – she disliked him for his loud and rowdy voice, had called him 'Kuwet'. He worked hard, from day to night, and then finally went back to the village. Most of the time he was alone, but even if he wasn't he tended to Sometimes he was cutting down trees, and at other times he was marking the larger trees while paying respect to the young ones. He respected the forest the way she did, and he took from the woods only that which he needed. She had wanted to approach him, but her timidity of humans remained. So, nearly every day, she watched him. Sometimes she would spend hours looking for him, and sometimes he would not enter the forest at all. One time she had almost approached him- She had been so close that she could almost touch him! - but in the end her fear had taken the best of her and she had refrained from alerting him to her presence.

Another time, she had killed a boar, laying it on the path she predicted he would take. Upon seeing the slain animal, its throat torn by claws, he had merely pulled his bow and cautiously peered at his surroundings. In the end, he had taken the animal back home. She hoped that he had enjoyed her gift, for she had sustained an extremely painful wound from the boar's tusks in her attempts to leave it as unscathed as possible. It was, after all, an offering to him. Kuwet sighed lightly, taking her out of her daydreams, and layed down his stone axe. She watched him for a while longer as he opened his pouch to take out a bit of dried meat, chewing on it.

Suddenly, she felt alert, her ears perked up. A quick instinctive turn of her head allowed her to focus her eyes on the cause; A man was drawing his bow, aiming at the woodcutter, who was completely oblivious to the perilous situation he was in. With a slight rustle, she made her way across the forest floor between her and the man, crossing the distance in a matter of seconds. The man, surprised, aims and fires at her, hitting her in the shoulder. With a cry of pain and anger she jumps the archer, and in a flurry of fierce and feral attacks, she brings him down. She turns around to find Kuwet looking at her, bow in hand. He looks hesitant, his bow half-drawn and aimed at the ground. Before he can react, she makes her way into the forest, leaving the man she loves behind in confusion.

It is only after days of nursing her wound that she sets out to find Kuwet again. To her surprise, anger and frustration, he no longer enters the forest. After more than a week of futile attempts to find him, she sneaks up to the forest, only to find out that Kuwet, has been forbidden from leaving the village, for they believe that the forests are unsafe. Several times she approaches the village, one time even skulking up to his house, touching his hair once before being noticed and chased off by the terrified villagers.

In the end, this fuels her anger. With the village guarded at night as well as during the day now, she stalks the surrounding woods. The blame is not with them, for she knows that she is a monster, that she is different. The blame is with those that had meant him harm, those that had wanted to hurt him and the tribe. With an almost painful resolve she set out, slaying a man approaching the tribe, leaving the corpse near the village's borders. She knew how to set apart the villagers from outsiders, and she used this knowledge well, never harming any who lived with her beloved. The futility of her attempts, and the frustration that came with his absence, only fueled her more, and in the end, surrounding tribes too would steer clear of the village, afraid of the beasts stalking at night.

The Spirit of Change had calmly listened to Feinor's words, and now, even though such a thing seemed hardly possible from something of its ethereal form, seemed to nod. "I did not know this tale, although I have heard of her bloodlust." Feinor replied with a smile, gesturing towards the trees. "I attain my knowledge not solely through your master's influence. The patron god of this village, Alandios, has his own eyes and ears, the Alandian owls. They are known across the tribes for teaching them the use of the alandium crystal, and they are often given minor sacrifices, which they sometimes take to me." Feinor held up a bone bead bracelet, which looked worn and old. "A child had put this down for one of the owls, and it deemed it appropriate to gift it, in turn, to me. They respect me for the knowledge I collect, which is exactly why the fire ravens respect me. I have spread word of both gods, and I believe that this will ensure that they will stand strong and united." He paused, looking off into the distance, before moving his chieftain on the chess board. "Unlike another god, Ha-Jalah. His word is all but forgotten, and he has faded from the minds of this world. The ravens told me about his disappearance, and I assume now that it is the worship of us, of mortals, that keeps the spirits alive. I believe that the same goes for you, and for your master." The Spirit agreed, and Feinor continued with another tale, this one of the Hunters.

His hands were drowned in blood. His face was covered in mud and while he clutched the wound with one hand, sitting on one knee, it was to no avail, he would die. Still, the pain was nothing short of pleasure. For he knew that the person standing before him would feel the exact same. "This is what my daughter felt, what my wife felt!" He plunged his dagger into the fallen warrior's knee, who screamed in agony, collapsing. "I know what you did to them, to all of us! Your jealousy knew no bounds, and in your jealousy you acted, you murdered, you raped!" Another stab went into his opponent's side, red fluid of life pouring out after he pulled back the weapon. "My brothers have avenged their daughters, their wifes, their sons. They put your kind through the pain their parents went through, the pain they went through." Somewhere, distant, he felt a knife lodging itself into his shoulder. "But we know mercy. We know that you are the culprits, not them." The man in front of him raised his arm to stab again, but the Hunter interrupted him, dropping his own knife, and grabbing that of his opponent. He twisted his wrist, then got to his feet. "I am the last, and you are the last. After your death is final, the past can rest." He sounded weary. "Your death is to be blamed to yourself, and thus you will die by your own hands." With a short struggle, he forced the warrior's hand down, pressing his own knife into his heart. The man sighed, shivered, and then died. For a short moment, the Hunter looked down at his prey, now dead at his feet. He had succeeded. His mission was over. He looked one more time into the distance, thinking of his daughter. She had been beautiful. Her future would have been bright, and she would have made a good wife, maybe even a hunter. A heart full of pride, full of remorse, ceased to beat. And an empty husk was left behind, as his soul sought out the Broker, bound by contract.

"This tale, however, continues somewhere else. The ritual these men performed was, to my knowledge, performed once more, by a man from the north. His name was Toslan."

Ihanet laid a hand on the young hunter's head. "I will heal your wife, but you will have to do what I ask of you." Toslan wanted to refuse, wanted to accept the offer. How could he ever slay someone who had never done him harm? How could he slay such a great warrior, the leader of Toman? "I can not do what you want of me! Please- Tell me that there is another way." Ihanet shook his head slowly, looking at Toslan's feverish wife. "I am the only one who can cure her, my son. But everything comes at a price, and my price comes in the form of blood." He paused, and Toslan buried his face in his hands, tears streaming down his face. He had accepted the cruel reality, however, and it was clear that Ihanet was aware of this. "You will travel to the south, and there, seek out two animals. One of them is called the 'kapyt', and on its skin grow luscious fruits. You will take one such fruit, and then find the other animal. This animal is covered in thick hairs and looks vaguely like a human. You will slay it, and take one of its hairs." He looked down and found, to his pleasure, that Toslan now looked up with great determination. He found it peculiar how one's love for another could inspire them to such difficult tasks. "You will light the hair and the fruit on fire, You will address the Broker, one of the spirits of this world, and say the following words; 'I ask for help in this task, in my mission. I offer myself now and the life ever-after.' Do this, complete your task, and I will heal your wife."

And so it was that Toslan had made his way through the cold of the north, ambushed twice by the now-prevalent wild kapaches and tribesmen. So it was that he had traversed the plains and the forests that laid south of the areas in which he made his home. So it was that he had struggled across the savannahs and fought a strange, maned animal. So it was that he had finally, three years after his departure, reached the jungles to the south. The only thing that had kept his tired and weakened body going was his resolve, his promise to his wife that he would save her. The baboon laid dead at his feet, and he collapsed to his knees. With trembling hands he pulled out one of its hairs, then spent several minutes to light a fire in the moist and hot jungle. When the fire finally lit, he throw the hair and the kapyt fruit into it. "I address you, the Broker. My task is to slay the last of the Toman blood-line. My goal is to save my wife. I ask for help in this task, in my mission. I offer myself now and the life ever-after. Help me do the impossib-" Before he could finish his sentence, the fruit cracked in two, and the hair screamed as if it were still attached to the animal he had slaughtered. He felt energetic and powerful, and he climbed to his feet. With the strength of a kapach and the agility of a snake, he set out to the north, to home.

And he arrived but a single year later, to meet with the shaman once again. Ihanet was tending to his duties, and greeted Toslan coldly. When Toslan inquired to see his wife, Ihanet told him that she had died almost four years ago. "You would save her!" In his rage, Toslan raised his arm, ready to launch a knife into the shaman's heart. Ihanet merely laughed, and it soon become clear why. Toslan could not bring himself to plunge the knife down, to harm Ihanet. For this action would not contribute to his mission. The shaman was not his prey: The chieftain was. "You fool. Your wife could not be saved, and I knew that as well as you did. Hope was all I needed to blind you to this truth, and it was also all I needed to get what I wanted; the perfect killer." Toslan struggled against his arm, struggled to will the knife down, but failed, in the end collapsing in agony. "Follow your prey, Hunter. Complete your mission in this life, and continue to serve your betters in the next."

Ihanet spoke to the tribe in sorrow. "Our chieftain, the last of the destined bloodline, has been slain by this cowardous snake! Shortly after taking away our leader, he took his own life, leaving us with nothing but our memories to mourn Toman's passing." The crowd was silent, most of them looking down. "As our shaman, I will take the task of leading this tribe on my shoulders, for the chieftain was without children. For years I have brewed him potions to strengthen his fertility, but I believe that he had been cursed, and even I could not cure it." Ihanet sighed deeply, then lighted the fire to cremate the fallen chieftain. He took up and raised the Staff of Power. "We will do that which he would have done, children! We will raise a shrine to our god, to Unsobar, and to the spirit of the hunt, Vénorr! We have tamed Vénorr's children, and under his and Unsobar' guidance, we will grow; we will conquer the weaker tribes!" The fire roared triumphantly as it consumed its inhabitant, and the crowd that had gathered around it raised their voices.

The Spirit of Change remained silent, absorbing this knowledge. It had been distracted from the game, so it took a while before it moved another piece. Feinor laughed. "I do not think you will win this." The Spirit did not respond to this comment, instead telling a tale of its own.

Aydun sat by the fire, looking out over the village. He felt tired and old, even though his body was not supposed to be. As a shaman of Aradan, blessed with the mark of the apostle, he had performed his task well, spreading Aradan's word to the nearby tribes. Aradan had gained some worshipers, and some had even migrated to the tribe. Still, he was not born to be a leader, and the years he had spent in his master's service had exhausted him. The village looked lively – perhaps even crowded – and he was sure that his master would be pleased. His master needed the strength to defeat the Phoenix, and what was a spirit without followers that paid it respect? Nothing. He had lost his faith, however, abandoned to a task that had been difficult. Despite his charisma, it had been hard to convince others that the Phoenix was not as good as they thought it was, that it was a monstrosity, not a boon. Tonight, he would secede his role as the tribe's shaman to his son. His son, hopefully, would bear the mark better than he had. As the sun slowly set, he laid his hand on the young man's head. "Will you serve Aradan, and take care of Aradon, his home?" His son nodded resolutely. This was enough for Aydun, and he told his son to get up. "Then arise a shaman, bearing the mark of the apostle of Aradan." His son rose, and took the role on him. "Yes, father, I will do as you ask."

"And so he did", Feinor replied. The spirit remained silent for a bit longer. "But it is not this information for which I came to speak with you, young shaman. I came because my master wants you to spread his word, to become his shaman and exert his influence." Feinor looked at the fire ravens momentarily, considering these words. He thought of his father, of what he had been. He thought of his mother, about whom he knew nothing. He did not serve a god. He served his people, like his father had, like his mother had wanted him to. "No. I serve no god." The spirit did not respond, and Feinor moved his hunter on the board. "Checkmate. I take your chieftain."

Perhaps in frustration, or perhaps simply in an attempt to complete its task, the spirit rushed forward, attempting to enter Feinor's body, to possess him. For a moment, Feinor felt cold. Next, a fire seemed to light inside of him, and he fell to the ground. Losing consiousness, he entered a dream. And so did the spirit.

The world was dark, but Finnwa remained bright in the sky. As the spirit entered the dream and Feinor's consciousness, it felt out of place. It did not belong here. Feinor watched as the spirit formed into something tangible, a human like himself, and then proceeded towards Feinor. Feinor could only watch as the spirit laid its hands on his shoulder, moving around to stand behind him. Just as it started to whisper – no doubt Nihilus' will – into Feinor's ears, it lighted on fire. Feinor turned around rapidly, only to see the spirit drop to the ground, howling in agony, which it sent directly to Nihilus' consciousness. As the spirit burned and tried to, once again, escape from Feinor's mind, he noticed another thing. Feinor's hands too were ablaze, yet he felt nothing but a comfortable warmth. Before he could think anything of this, he snapped out of the vision. He laid in the grass, next to the chess board. The spirit was gone, but the fallen 'chieftain' on the board clearly indicated that it had been more than a dream. Swallowing hard, Feinor set himself to get up, and leave for the village. There were people waiting for him.

And, for two others, a twisted fate waited. In their slumber, the Phoenix suddenly ceased to cry, watching, its eyes piercing them. It was almost as if it was waiting for something, as if it anticipated action. These two gods were Hardrunm and Valeia, and just as they realized that the dream had changed, they were torn from their divine slumber. They found themselves pulled up, a harsh light burning at their flesh. In their raw divine forms, both of them fought back, their instincts guiding them to use not their form, but their will to damage the being. They already found themselves out of their domain, far above Nativa's lands and seas, when they realized that whatever had ceased hold of them was taking them towards Finnwa. Fighting harder and with more valor to escape, they exerted their energy, and Hardrunm was the first to fall, plunging towards the jungles. His conscience fading, the crash did not hurt. Instead, it broke him into countless shards of divine energy, and from the power of his fall, a tree grew. This tree reached a height beyond that of its kindred in the jungle, and the consciousnesses, oblivious to the god they had been before, found themselves confused, yet certain that they belonged in unity. Thus, Yggdrass was born.

Valeia still struggled for freedom, and in the end managed to injure the being enough to force it to drop her. She was dead long before she once again touched Nativa's soil, and from her dead body, two new gods were born, in unity as brothers. A shrine erected from the icy ground where Valeia had found her final resting place, tall and imposing. The surrounding land quickly withered and died, and even in the nearby sea the fish fled away from the sinister, basalt construction. In the middle of the construction was an empty pool, which would soon fill with the souls of the dead. In the back of the shrine was a passageway, looking out over a river that could not possibly be there. On both sides of the passage a man stood. One was Iloende, the other was called Zantaware. As each others brothers, they looked at each other in silence. Contrarious to Yggdrass, they remember the falling goddess, they remembered their birth. But that was all they knew.

The moment these three gods were born, the gods of the first generation arose, torn violently from their dreams of the Phoenix. Unaware of what happened, their revival left them confused. Yet in their confusion they all knew one thing: It was time for them to act.

Feinor invents chess and it becomes a popular game among the Alandians.
Not a single mortal being manages to defeat Feinor at his game.
Feinor communes not only with the Fire Ravens, but also with the Alandian Owls.
The Spirit of Change travels to meet Feinor. Surprisingly, Feinor sees the spirit and communes with it.

Lilith picks up on the knowledge taught by her mother, Teneia, but remains cautious of humans.
Lilith falls in love with a man from the tribe called 'Kuwet', although he is not aware of it.
Lilith starts attacking and killing those that approach the tribe in an attempt to make them deem the forests safe again. This only achieves the opposite, however, and the villagers only enter the woods if absolutely necessary, or in groups.
The Guardians of the Forest become extremely secluded, their territory deemed haunted.

The Alandian owls remain a rare species, but they do manage to spread the use of the alandium crystal to every major tribe. While Alandios does not exactly gain followers from this, the Alandian owl is now regarded as a holy animal by all cultures, and minor sacrifices are often made upon seeing one.

Feinor has spread word of Nihilus among the Alandians, and they have accepted him as a secondary god.

Ha-Jalah's word is forgotten, almost as though purged from the minds of all mortals.

The first Hunters as created by the Broker succeed in their task, every one of them hunting down the warrior that slayed their child or spouse. All of them die, their souls going to the Broker.
The Broker gains the sphere of 'Souls'.
The Broker gains the sphere of 'Trade'.
The Broker loses the sphere of 'Ambition'.

The Kapach quickly becomes a prevalent predator in the taigas and tundras of the north.

A young woodsman named Toslan performs the Pact of the Hunter, swearing to slay the current leader of Toman. He succeeds in his task and expires. Since the chieftain had no heir, the shaman, Ihanet, who blackmailed Toslan into performing the pact, takes his place.
Ihanet institutes worship of Unsobar and Vénorr in Toman, erecting a shrine dedicated to both of these gods.
Unsobar gains the sphere of 'Ambition'.

Under Ihanet's rule, Toman starts using the Kapach as an animal for hunting and war. While the animals sometimes turn on their owners in battle, they form a formidable weapon. With the destruction of several tribes surrounding Toman and the accompanied spoils of war and new territory, Toman grows even more.

Aydun, Aradon's shaman, leaves the safety of Aradon, and heads out to spread his word. He is met with some consent, and leaves a positive impression of Aradan in his wake. In the end, he grows weary from travel and his faith in Aradan – and thus the mark of the apostosle – wanes. He returns home, where he retires from his work as shaman, succeeded by his son.

Feinor refuses to serve Nihilus directly.
The Spirit of Change attempts to possess Feinor. It is almost destroyed as a result, leaving Nihilus only a memory of flame.
The Spirit of Change rests to recuperate, waking up together with its creator.

Hardrunm and Valeia are violently ripped from their slumber by a bright but twisted light during a solar eclipse, pulled off Nativa and towards Finnwa, the moon.
Both Hardrunm and Valeia fight the force assaulting them, and while they weaken and injure it, are eventually mortally wounded.
Hardrunm and Valeia fall down in the form of falling stars.

Hardrunm crashes down in the southwest jungles of the continent, his divine being shattering into thousands of minor shards.
On the location where Hardrunm crashed a gigantic tree, "Yggdrass' Heart" grows, and the shards come together to form a collection of divine consciousnesses; 'Yggdrass'.

Valeia crashes in the north of the main continent. Instead of leaving a crater, the Well of Souls is created, and Zantaware and Iloende are born from the divine energy this releases.

None of the Gods are aware exactly of what happened, although every God awakens violently from their dreams of the Phoenix on the exact moment that these two Gods die.
Even though Hardrunm and Valeia were destroyed, their creations remain and they still receive worship.

Code: [Select]

Acts: 
Zantaware (Adwarf): 1 act
Aradan (Ardas): 1 act
Vénorr (Atilliano): 1 act
Unsobar (Digital Hellhound): 1 act
Teneia (Fniff): 1 act
Yggdrass (Ghazkull): 1 act
Iloende (Koronii): 1 act
Nihilus (Lordinquisitor): 1 act
The Broker (Micelus): 1 act
Alandios (Shootandrun): 1 act

(You can presume that only ~10 years passed. If it weren't for the events of this turn, you would have woken up later and with more acts.)

Shootandrun · « **Reply #22 on:** February 11, 2013, 08:31:29 pm »

He was awake, once again, but something was not right. It was too early. Too soon for his liking. He was restless. Restless. A discomforting thought to have. He had to act.

His attempts at spreading his word had failed, but at least his creations could now be seen throughout the mortal world. A partial failure, but one anyway. He supposed it was inevitable, with these mortal men and their feeble capacities. For now, he had to make his move.

A nearby god was gone. He no longer sensed him. His tribe was populous and powerful - their faith was strong, yet he was no longer there. Could a God die? Such thoughts were discomforting. Perhaps even worrying. Ever since the fire and the pain, he had thought himself invincible - he had survived the fire, and he had elevated himself beyond the pain - what could still stand before him?

He had seen and remembered many things that could harm mortals over the years, but he knew none of them were truly dangerous to him. What could slay a god, however, could only leave him shuddering. He was afraid. Another reason to act.

To the far north and the far south, he sensed other gods. They would be perfect for his actions. There were others, nearer, but they were beyond the mountains; nearby and yet oh so far. For the purposes he was seeking, mortals needed to be able to reach the other tribes, and the high peaks prevented any man from crossing them. There were also those in the forests, who the nearest to his tribe; but he sensed energy he did not trust amongst those, something in part godly, but wild and unchained; and now was not the hour for risk.

And so, he sent forth his call; only the gods he wished to speak to received it. At the same time, Aradan and Unsobar heard the words, coming from the center of the continent.

"We must speak. The times are changing. A god lies dead in the south, and another in the east. Only in unity, can there be strength. I will wait for you in the delta which is home of my tribe; there, we may talk."

And so, on that day, the God of Knowledge called for the aspects of Order and War to come at his side for the first Council of the Gods.

[No Act] Alandios invites Unsobar and Aradan to speak with him in the delta.

micelus · « **Reply #23 on:** February 11, 2013, 10:04:36 pm »

It slept. It dreamt. It changed.

The Broker's act of trade had caused a shift in itself. Where once It felt 'ambition' as the highest of thoughts, it now felt that trade and the taking of souls was most desirable.

Even in It's sleep, it thirsted for souls. Even as the souls of the Hunters had came to him, he lusted for more. It still pondered, from dream-to-dream, why. A soul was proof of a contract and showed sincerity on the customer's part. It showed how many transactions had taken place and on what grounds. It was also valuable in of itself. A soul contained the memories and experiences of the mortal, as well their consciousness. The Broker drew from these souls the stories it craved beyond all else…although currently, all these were Hunters. It was difficult to say in the nothi-

It's incorporeal body convulsed in shock. What dare harm I here?!

It was not at all sure as to what happened, but It found that he was no longer in the void, but amongst the mortals once again. Going by the positioning of the mortal landscape, the Broker deduced that little time had passed. A few seconds or hours by a divine's reckoning.

By the reckoning of a mortal, at least a decade had passed. In that time wars were declared, people killed, crops harvested and souls rendered.

The Broker instantly felt the insatiable need to acquire new souls; their experiences would be added to his own! Yes, more stories for I!

It knew that the world's people were scattered all over the land, all with a soul. He would have to draft new rituals and make convincing arguments for more of these precious commodities. Such a tiresome affair. Why bother with a contract? It could simply rend it from their mortal flesh. What opposition could he possibly face?

Kill all mortals and render their souls from their fl-

No. That path was rash and impatient. It was for those who lacked intelligence and were filled with foolishness. There were better paths, the Broker knew.

Instead, it returned to the ruins of the Baboon to mull over the changes of the world. It was perfectly aware that a mortal, Ilhanet, had tricked another named Toslan into performing the Pact of the Hunter. The goal of the Pact was to slay the chieftain of a tribe…the sons of Toman It recalled. An interesting tale. Surely this Ilhanet had a goal in mind when he ordered the death of this chieftain. To acquire some more power or influence, presumably.

The Broker was not sure. Perhaps a visitation is in order?

It thought it over and relented.. Best to see what has changed first. The Broker changed in form. He took on the appearance of a fairly old gentleman with a pointed beard, in an age before scissors and gels. The elder, taking a look at his new form, was content and went off to explore.

The elder travelled extensively through the various tribes and clans. Sometimes he would be welcomed and allowed to tell a story. Sometimes he would be chased off and forced to flee. Sometimes he would spend time in the wilderness instead, enjoying the natural wildlife. Once, he even encountered a rabid woman who slashed at him.The indignity of mortals! He escaped well enough; he was divine after all.

Eventually he made his way to the tribe of Toman. The smells of conquest was in the air. Tribute. Slaves. Even the raw emotion. Ilhanet had been busy indeed. He had even absorbed beasts into his ranks. Quite ambitious, is he not?

The elder introduced himself as a traveller from the South. He said that he was trading fruits from a most exquisite beast, the kapyt. All he asked for was a story in return, he said.

The old trader made quite a bit of profit that day; he had an unlimited supply after all and the stories of war and adventure interested him. He also now knew the full story of Ilhanet and the tribe. He became chief it seemed and enshrined two gods. Not the Broker of course. The Broker needed no worship, only customers. The trader eventually decided to postpone a meeting, however. He felt a 'lure' up north which pulsed through his mind every few moments. Ilhanet could wait; this distraction was greater.

He went north and found something…peculiar. A well. Looking into it was dizzying. The elder felt…disappointed however. It expected something more...grand. And yet, It smelt something familiar. Souls. Many souls. Souls beyond count. Souls beyond number. The Broker sensed that these souls hid behind the well, and yet, he could not force his way in…It felt wrong. As if this well belonged to Another. It probably did, actually. Best find out who this fellow collector is. Perhaps we can share techniques and strategies!...The elder laughed at his little thought and then called out in It's godly voice:

"Who would hoard these souls? Who would I call cousin and kin? I ask for the owner of this fine contraption to present him (or her) self."

[Non-acts]Appear at Toman and the Well of Souls. Demand an audience with it's 'owner'.

adwarf · « **Reply #24 on:** February 11, 2013, 10:52:20 pm »

For a brief moment he felt pain, he felt death, he knew its finality and he wept, he swore at the Phoenix, and he cursed it but then all was gone. He was no longer himself, wait who was he to begin with? He reached for memories he knew should be there but they were gone, all he found was instincts, instincts and knowledge all beings like him had at their 'births'. Shaking his head he looked down and found a humanoid figure, a simple ferryman cloaked in black and a young man wielding a scythe and bearing chains at the same time. He was Zantaware ... he understood now if only some of it, he was Zantaware the rightful God of Souls and the Afterlife, far away he felt an intruder this information angered him but now was not the time.

He examined his surroundings, taking in the Well of Souls and the vast river, its subtle currents and deadly flows mystifying and beautiful to his eyes bearing patterns of creation itself. Yet farther away he could since another, someone of him yet not, his mind knew it to be his brother yet he could not quite understand the concept. His creation was done and so he fell silent, his scythe gleaming slightly in the light of the river itself ...

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

Zantaware was away when it happened, he felt something arrive at his birthplace, he felt something looking down at the Well of Souls and he bristled with fear and anger. 'They are not yours to have, they are no ones to have! You threaten ... He thought but cut off quickly, perhaps they were not there seeking what they should bot yet he could not be sure. Taking the guise of the simple black robed ferryman he step forward and appeared at the end of the hallway to the river, walking walking across the dark wood of the dock as he approached this new arrival.

Hearing his words he replied warily as he stepped from the confines of the tunnel,

"No one hoards them for they are not there to be hoarded, and you may call me cousin if you wish but I am not but a simple ferryman. This place is the Well of Souls, the place where the souls of the dead are brought to be taken to the afterlife. I am known as the Ferryman, the one who guides these lost flames to their resting places in the afterlife. May I ask of you your name and your purpose in this place so freshly born?"

micelus · « **Reply #25 on:** February 12, 2013, 12:24:58 am »

The elder was amused. "It seems that I'm dealing with an equal. As an equal, I think I can allow you to meet..The Broker."

With those words, the elder changed into the dark and amorphous form of the void; The Broker's true undefinable shape.

"As for purpose...well I was awoken not too long ago from my rest. I explored this world-Nativa the mortals name it- and I was allured by this...feeling that came from here. I expected something else, to be quite honest...but this is still something very interesting. The entrance into the very resting place of all souls! Quite fascinating indeed. But tell me...why? Why would you let these souls wander out of the world? That seems like a waste in all honesty. Like throwing a perfectly good apple-a fruit good fellow-into the mud. Oh, and sorry if this sounds all rude, but I'm just curious. It is not met often that I find another of my rank to converse with, unfortunately."

Digital Hellhound · « **Reply #26 on:** February 12, 2013, 05:07:02 am »

A towering, muscled figure studied the tribe - his tribe - through the underbrush, a monstrous Kapach growling at his side. The Rider's mind was muddled, his memories confused. These people worshipped him, Unsobar, as was their due. He supposed it made sense for them to know of him. He was the greatest of all gods, after all. He knew he hadn't been here before, but he... remembered things.

Oh, well. Focusing on it was too distracting. He had better things to do. These Tomani had done well in his name, but the shaman who led them was unacceptable. The Rider would shatter their false idols of this 'Venórr' and lead them to greatness himself. He'd also sensed something else, a... scent, passing through his lands. Another 'god', though no god was truly his equal. He dared to enter Unsobar's domain. For that, he would be chased down and destroyed as the scum he was! The Rider moved to mount the beast serving as his steed.

'No... time, you fool,' he heard his own voice say. The Rider blinked. Wh-

'Didn't you hear the summons? We have been... called,' he continued, despite his best attempts to keep his mouth shut. The Rider's eyes went wide. He whimpered, but the voice coming out from his lips seemed to care little. 'This is pointless. Do not resist...'

With a sharp crack and release of divine power, the Rider fell, limp, into a pathetic heap. His form shuddered, then appeared to melt. A bleeding snake was visible for a moment before the Autarch took his place. The huge kapach was quickly fading away.

The Autarch sighed, brushing dust off his robes. He knew he would have to let the Rider loose sooner or later - but this was too important to be missed. Clearing his mind, the Autarch set off towards the meeting.

---

The journey was not too long, for a god, though it pained him to leave the Tomani, especially with the impudent god who had passed through his domain. Such activity after centuries of isolation! He'd barely been aware of the others' presence before this - now they seemed to be pressing on him from every direction. The Rider was all too willing to blindly attack them and the deluded Archer would be of little use. He needed to be him, but he did not have the strength to hold them off forever.

The terrain turned softer, lusher, as he went on, the tundra and taiga giving way to green plains and vibrant woods. Game was plentiful here, the people soft and vulnerable. They knew little of war. A shame, but he was not about to interfere. He only needed a prize, now, a lure in the south...

He sensed the god's presence from leagues away, a pulsing beacon drawing him forth. He grew accustomed to it as he came nearer - he barely noticed it when he reached the god's people.

Unsobar watched them, for a while, recognizing the strange birds and the crystals. So this was where they originated - he had sensed another power's touch upon them, felt the orders in their minds. They were a weak tribe, otherwise, isolated, unambitious. He wondered if this reflected in their god. Perhaps not. He had called this meeting together, after all.

There was one point of interest, though...

---

'Damn you, Feman,' the hunter spat, realizing what his latest move had led to. He seemed to be planning on knocking his pieces over, but hesitated. The chess board was laid out on the dirt, the pieces made of old wood. They were much cruder than the Shaman's pieces, but Feman had crafted them with his own hands, and he was known to fly into a rage if anyone so much as looked at them when they weren't playing.

'Do you forfeit?' Feman asked with a smug smile on his face. He'd been playing all afternoon, with nothing but crushing victories to show for it. He was on his third round with the hunter, who, he had to admit, was getting ever-so-slightly better at the game.

'I suppose so,' he said, sighing. 'Damn this game. I'm heading back out. You'll have to find someone else to dupe into playing.'

Feman shrugged as the hunter picked up his spear and headed away from the village, giving him one last glare as he disappeared into the woods. He arranged the pieces again and looked around - many of the tribe had gathered to watch him play, but most had slipped away by now.

'Anyone up for a try? I'll go easy on you!' Feman called out, to some laughter. Nobody answered, and many began to leave as if fearing they would be forced into playing. The youth sighed and began to gather the pieces.

'I would play,' a voice that sent shivers down his spine said. It brought to mind a crackling fire, more than anything human. All heads turned towards the source - an old man, in simple, worn reddish robes, detaching himself from the shadows. It looked to Feman the bottom of his clothes were slightly singed.

'Err... right, of course,' Feman replied. 'What's your name, stranger?'

'It doesn't matter,' the man said as he settled down opposite to Feman, studying the board intently. Feman felt it would not be wise to question. The stranger looked the pieces over with a trace of a smile. 'How is the game played?'

Feman calmed himself, smiling. His thoughts were all on the board now.

'Oh, it's quite simple. I'll show you.'

He won the first round quickly. The old man seemed to have grasped the movements of the pieces and the rules of the game quickly, but that alone did not guarantee a victory, especially against an opponent like him.

'A fine game,' the stranger said. He began to place his pieces back in their tiles. Feman felt a touch of irritation - he would have normally set both sides - but said nothing. He had nothing against winning twice. Really, he almost felt sorry for the old man.

He won the second round, as well. He'd nearly lost his shaman to the stranger's wolves, though, but he'd quickly sacrificed another piece and rebounded to victory. He put the close call down to luck on the stranger's part. Feman felt somewhat annoyed, though - it wasn't like him to slip up.

'Well played. Another game?'

The stranger's calm was beginning to get on his nerves. Feman looked at the board. He'd been working on a new strategy he liked to call the Fisherman's Hook. He'd been planning on saving it for Feanor, but perhaps this old man needed a more thorough lesson of his skills. A wide grin spread over his features as he saw the game unfold in his mind. He noticed more tribesmen had gathered to watch, intrigued by the old man. He'd give them a show they wouldn't quickly forget.

'Yes. Let's play.'

He couldn't suppress a chuckle when the stranger bought his bait, losing both his wolves and a hunter to Feman's onslaught. This didn't seem to worry the man, though - he even smiled. A further move shattered the stranger's defenses, leaving the path to his chieftain unguarded. Feman moved piece after piece, easily breaking through the man's poor attempts at defense. He moved his hunter to a striking position at his chieftain - there was nowhere to run, now.

'Checkmate,' the old man said. Feman nodded absentmindedly, moved to finish the game, and stopped. He looked at the man, frowning, then back at the board.

Checkmate. The board didn't lie. While Feman had been focusing on his oh-so-perfect attack, the stranger had been gradually changing the situation on the board, allowing his reckless charge to get through his lines only to move in for the kill. Gods... he had lost.

'I'm... I'm sorry, I don't...' Feman started, rising from the ground, but the man took his arm. His grasp was strong.

'Ah, you simply made a mistake. One last game?' he said. Feman realized what he was doing, blushed, and sat back down. He allowed his opponent to gather the pieces, trying to figure out where he'd gone wrong. A mistake, yes, but one the stranger had led him to. There was no other option. Surely he couldn't have learned so fast? Feman had been playing all his life, and could still not match the shaman Feanor. He bit his lip. No matter. He was still the better player. He would crush the old man, and then crush the shaman.

He moved. The stranger moved. Feman was all focus now, feeling the board in his mind, knowing what would happen next.

The first vision came when the man took his hunter. It was a flash, a series of confused images and sensations branded into his mind. A hunter, crawling in the snow, trying to escape from the wolves. The vision ended as the wolves pounced, their teeth shredding through the hunter's flesh, their howls carrying through the night. Feman blinked hard, aware that the stranger was staring at him. He turned his attention back to the board, regained his focus, and moved a piece.

The stranger was smiling now, though there was nothing friendly in his eyes. He kept his gaze locked on Feman even when he moved the pieces. The stranger was leading an attack with his shaman. It was a risky strategy that should not have worked. Feman snapped at his heels with his movements, picking off vulnerable pieces while preparing to take the shaman. The only problem was he wasn't getting anywhere close to taking the shaman without risking his own pieces, and with every movement he was losing more and more. The stranger's goal didn't seem to be taking his chieftain anymore - he seemed intent on clearing the board of every single one of Feman's pieces.

The old man's shaman took Feman's hunters, and another vision exploded into the youth's mind. This time, he felt it too, standing on soft ground with a spear in hand. To either side of him spread a line of Alandian men, good hunters and warriors all. The air was tense and fear gripped his body. He was sure he could hear distant growls. After a few moments, one of the hunters cursed, pointing. Feman's eyes went wide as he saw it come over the hill - a black-furred, giant beast he recognized from tales and the crystals - kapach. On its back sat a pale warrior, running one hand through the beast's fur. Feman became acutely aware of others like it climbing to his side, filling his vision as far as he could see. The ridgeline was now covered in the beasts and their riders. Yet another pushed through, carrying a regal man in shaman's robes. He raised an ornate staff and mouthed a word - Feman knew without hearing it was 'kill'.

And then the beasts charged...

He returned to the real world, shivering. Cold sweat was running down his face and he felt sick to the bone. He didn't want to continue, but his hands moved on their own free will, continuing to move his remaining pieces.

More images of war, death and destruction followed. He saw the village in flames, his own body among the fallen. The stranger lost few pieces, taking all of his, until only the chieftain and a handful of cornered pieces remained. Such a strategy should have been impossible. Feman blinked. Threatening the chieftain was an entirely new piece - a three-headed serpent, impossibly detailed. He reached for it for a closer look, but the stranger took it and moved it to bring down Feman's chieftain as well - an unnecessary gesture given the rules of the game.

Feman realized the gathered tribesmen were staring at him. He couldn't bring himself to raise his gaze.

'You've... destroyed me,' he said. The stranger nodded.

'The fortunes of war are everchanging,' he said. 'Do not despair. There is always a chance to turn the tide. Perhaps next time, you will emerge victorious once more.'

Feman got up without a word, and staggered away from the board. He felt violently sick. He would attempt to make sense of the images and the game alter - now, he had to clear his head.

Back at the board, the Autarch smiled. He looked at the tribesmen around him.

'Would anyone like to play?'

---
No Act: The Autarch travels to the Alandian tribe. He waits for Alandios to appear while playing chess with the tribesmen.

Ghazkull · « **Reply #27 on:** February 12, 2013, 07:48:23 am »

The mighty tree amidst the jungle shuddered, it felt ecstatic. Ygdrass voice sounded like a thousand leaves caressed by the wind. A thousand entities spoke at once.

We.

We are alive!

We. Feel.

We. See.

Ygdrass exulted in it's own existence. Finally it decided after long internal discussion to send their senses outward to see if there was other sentient life.
For many miles there was nothing, animals,plants but nothing truly sentient. Finding no life at first it sent its roots and senses further and further, till the Jungle ended and the Savanah begun.
There on the Savannah Ygdrass discovered the Humans of Aradan. The land surrounding them lacked any trees. it scouted out the Village, feeling the heartbeats of the Humans.

So. Fast.

So. Young.

Unkowing.

It watched for weeks, through the grasses, through the bushes, even through the ants crawling between the huts. Taking in all it saw. Discussion ensued. The Mind was in disconcert.

We. Should. Ignore.

NO!

We should commune.

NO!

The Discussion went on as the weeks past. A Discussion which for humans would have taken three or four hours at most, took Ygdrass several weeks in which it continue to watch, exchanging arguments at a snails pace. Finally the Discussion ended.
In the following night a massive tree began to grow a few hundred meters from the village. In the flat savannah it stood like a massive tower. Within the morning it was done.

Non-Act: Ygdrass grows a Hearttree near the Village of Aradan to communicate with its villagers and potentially its god.

Ardas · « **Reply #28 on:** February 12, 2013, 11:58:09 am »

Many things have shifted and changed during Aradan's slumber, but none of them managed to catch the attention of the God of Order until now. With great waves of energy and disturbances in the Aether, Aradan awakened prematurely. That was followed by a calling, coming from the distant north. Another immortal wanted to communicate. In due time Aradan would go, he decided.

In but a moment, he saw his tribe and the lands surrounding it through eyes of an eagle, inspecting his domain. His apostle, while serving him for long time, was a weak man. Gifted with mighty gifts, he lost his faith. Aradan felt no hatred or anger, for he knew them not. But he felt disappointment. Disappointment that only a father can feel when looking at his children, lost, misguided or failing. But mortals had to unlock their potential if they were to achieve anything. Aradan's part was to show them the way, not to drag them or hold their hands.

Aradan turned away from his former servant and looked upon new shaman. Maybe the youth will be stronger where old man failed.

A strange tree grew nearby the village and it called out to Aradan. Was this one yet another god? It was necessary to find out and ensure that village was not threatened.

The eagle lowered its flight and perched upon a branch of the strange tree. Regardless of whether the tree was merely a totem or an actual deity in itself, Aradan decided to reply to it, reaching out with his power.

"I am Aradan, deity of this village and embodiment of Order. Identify yourself and speak to me of your presence here.

[Non-act] Reply to Ygdrass.

Ghazkull · « **Reply #29 on:** February 12, 2013, 12:11:55 pm »

Aradans question was first answered with silence. The Ygdrass discussed how to answer with itself.

finally, half an hour later the tree began to emit a greenish glow and small glowing balls of light began to dance around it. A thousand voices answered as one. The voice sounded like wind going through leaves, like wood splintering. Like Wood Growing.

Proud. Lecturing. We. Are. Ygdrass.

Explaining. We. are. many.

Careful. We were. curious.

silence again, but this time the discussion was very short compared to the one before.

Questions. Curiosity. What are you?

Who. Are you?

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