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[Shootandrun]

After Yakhuz sent his own message, his halls were silent for a long time. There was a presence, a connection indicating that the conversation was not over, but the other one was apparently considering his options. When he did speak, a touch of annoyance and, perhaps, reluctance could be heard in Hakkaros' voice.

"You do not trust me, dead god, and perhaps as such you are wise. When I was a living man, few of the men who trusted me lived long enough to consider whether or not it was a good decision. I will be honest, then. There are things I must discuss not only with you, but with Ka'er Thul. I know that you do not control him completely - that he has a will of his own. I know he is powerful - perhaps the most powerful servant of the gods in the world. Too powerful for me to trust him based on his assurance alone.

I desire to hold negotiations present with him in the forge because, if they are successful, I intend to seal a pact concerning it. Should he break the terms agreed upon, the essence poured into the pact will fuel the Forge of the Apostate in order to make its weapons ever more threatening to him... And, in order to be fair, should my Knights break the pact first, then their weapons shall become unable to harm him.

There is also, even if nothing is agreed upon, the issue of safety. Ka'er Thul is more powerful than my knights. If he has been able to best the one who called himself the Apprentice, then he could be able to kill any representative I would send in an open field. In the Forge, at the heart of their power, he might be given pause. Of course, in that case, he is the one at risk of treachery - but I can swear upon all of my current essence that my followers will not lay a hand upon him by my actions or on my orders. I must soon go north, Yakhuz, to explain to some foreign gods that I do not take interventions in my affairs kindly. There may be war. Do you truly believe that in this situation I can afford to lose all of the strength I currently have, only to kill one of your servants?"

The message ended, but the presence lingered, waiting for an answer.

[Atilliano]

''So you want to hear about the White Herd, don't you?'' The old man asked, and looked around the fireplace to every one of the twelve children. They stared at him with looks of excitement and interest, like they always did when he was about to tell a story, for he was the best storyteller in the village.

''Very well. I will tell you. Listen well though, for I will not repeat.'' He stared into the fire for a moment, recalling what he was about to tell the children. ''Many years ago, before even your own fathers were born, and I was but a mere boy...''


''What news do you bring?'' Dethus, an old but still fierce-looking man and elder of the village, asked the approaching hunter. ''It was just a lie, wasn't it?'' Hephos, for that was the hunter's name, regarded him with a look that seemed to be a mixture of concern and excitement.

''Even though it may sound strange, the Vitulii family spoke the truth. A couple of miles to the southwest, near their farm, I found a herd of white deer, exactly as they've described them. The beasts were truly magnificent. Their hides shone in the sunlight and almost seemed to glow with a brilliant radiance themselves. They must've been sent by Delatheia herself, for they seemed so bright that I couldn't explain it with anything other than magic.''

Hephos was silent for a moment, as if further recalling what he had seen. ''Their antlers though... I can't imagine the power they've got in their necks to be able to carry those things on top of their heads. They were so enormous I'm sure they'd fetch a fortune if sold in the city.'' He clearly hinted toward the possibility of hunting them.

When Hephos finished that last sentence the entire village erupted into chaos as everyone began discussing what they thought would be the best reaction to this situation. Dethus was surprised, as he had of course dismissed the claims of the Vitulii as mere lies.

He was unsure of how to proceed, but if the creatures could be a gift from Delatheia or even Hakkaros, though he didn't expect them to be of Hakkaros' making for obvious reasons, hunting them as Hephos suggested could lead to the wrath of at least one of their gods, and he wasn't about to risk that. Thus, he asked for quiet, and, although it cost quite some time, eventually everyone listened to him.

''Since we do not know much about these creatures, I advise any against acting foolishly by hunting these beings or otherwise provoking them. Hephos, I'd like to ask you to travel to the city and warn the priests of what you have seen. Let them decide what the coming of these creatures could mean. In the meantime, no one should harm them, for what if they are not meant to be hunt? Delatheia's wrath would destroy us all.'' He looked at his townsfolk, and he saw that they understood and shared his concern. Satisfied that his words had convinced them, he said;

''I, Dethus, have spoken.''


I could do it, and not even Hakkaros himself could stop me.

Sithinus, who was barely an adult, sat upright in bed, unable to sleep. He glanced to his right, where lay his sick mother covered in blankets. She had been struck with a rare disease two weeks ago, and the village healer, Carthas, had told him his mother was going to die soon unless he bought a special kind of medicine in the city. A rare medicine. An expensive medicine...

I've got to do it. I need the money. She's the only family I've got left. Besides, if only one of the creatures is missing, no one would ever know, and it's not like they are going to avenge their fallen comrade or something.

Having made up his mind, he quietly slipped out of bed and oriented himself towards one of the corners of the room, where he knew he would find his spear. When he had retrieved it, which took a while because it was so dark, he turned around and crept towards the only door in their house, which consisted of a single room.

Luckily I still remember how to throw this thing. Now to get outside without waking her.

He successfully got to the door, glanced back one more time, then quickly opened it and went outside, closing it behind him while remaining as quiet as possible.

He breathed in the fresh summer air and looked around. Luckily, their home was at the edge of the village, otherwise sneaking out without being seen could prove to be quite difficult. To his right were all the other homes the village consisted of, and to his left, there was a path leading away and into the woods. He sneaked over the path which disappeared into the forest and, when he had passed the first few lines of trees, made his way to the Vitulii farm.

It is easier than one might think to stalk around in the forest with only the moonlight to guide them, as soon enough Sithinus emerged from another part of the forest, which was only a few hundred meters away from the Vitulii residence. He quickly began his search by checking in the direct vicinity of the farm, and then kept expanding the area he searched until he would find the herd.

It took him longer to find the creatures than he had thought it would, for when he had found them, light was already pushing away the darkness of night, and he had little time before the sun would rise and he would be forced to return home to avoid detection. Most of the creatures were still vast asleep in the middle of a field mostly surrounded by forest, trusting in the few of them acting as sentinels to keep them save. And that they did, watching their surroundings for anything that could pose a threat to the herd.

Sithinus stalked as close to the creatures as the trees let him, and was quite astonished by the fact that none of the creatures had noticed him yet. When he examined them, he admitted that they were indeed as magnificent as Hephos and the Vitulii had told him and the rest of the villagers. Their white hides reflected the moonlight and indeed gave them an almost magical appearance and their antlers were also as enormous as the hunter had made everyone believe.

Large enough to buy the medicine I need.

He singled out a large male specimen standing guard close to the patch of forest, seemingly looking directly at him. His breathing quickened as he gripped his spear tighter and readied to throw.

A second passed...

Then another...

The creature looked away, Sithinus rose, aimed at its think neck, and threw his spear.

Despite being a perfect throw, the spear still missed its mark. With unnatural speed and reflexes, the creature bounded out of the way, the spear burying itself into the ground where the deer had stood a mere second ago.

Sithinus looked in horror as it alerted the others of its kind to his presence and began charging him!
He hesitated a second, but he did not bring a weapon besides a spear, so fighting wasn't an option. Turning around, he quickly broke into a sprint. He ran through the forest faster than he thought himself possible, the sound of hooves close behind him.

They're chasing me!

Despite all the speed adrenaline and pure fear gave him, they did not get him far. He hadn't ran a hundred meters before something that felt as hard as rock rammed into his back and he was sent sprawling through the air. His landing pushed the air out of his lungs, and he grasped for breath. Pain erupted in his back and pitch-black spots danced in front of his eyes.

He looked up to see the deer he had tried to kill towering over him, its antlers dripping with blood. His blood. It lowered its head till it was level with his, and stared at him with eyes that seemed to pierce through his very soul...

I'm going to die!

Seconds felt like minutes as it kept staring as if it was determining his fate...

Why... Why isn't it doing anything?

Then, when he started to think it would never stop staring, it rose up again and turned around. He was forced to watch as it bounded back toward their clearing, its brethren close behind.

It... Spared me?

His vision became blurred, and he looked on as the creatures made their way out of the forest. When the last of them moved out of view, a dark screen fell over his eyes, and he passed out...


''How did you survive?'', one of the children, a boy named Taedrus, asked him. ''One of the Vitulii kids found me and they brought me back to the village. Carthas was then able to treat my wounds, and thus I survived the encounter'', he told the kids, who had listened to the story with increasing delight.

''Weren't you punished for going out to hunt the creatures by the village elder?'' Sithinus remembered how compassionate Dethus had been, and he couldn't help but smile at the memory of the man, who had long ago passed into the realm of the dead. ''After my strength returned he told me in private that he knew what I had done, but he also knew why, and so he forgave me'', he answered.

''Why did you do it, anyway?'', one of the children asked, for he had left that part out on purpose. He stared into the fire for a full minute before answering. His mother had died from the disease a week after the event, while he was still being nursed by Carthas.

It had all been for nothing in the end...

''Perhaps I will tell you someday, but not today, for it is getting late, and young boys and girls like yourselves should be in bed by now...''


Delatheia changes a single herd of deer into creatures of magic.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

The color of their hides has changed from brown to pure white, and their antlers are larger than those of even the oldest normal deer. Their speed, agility, strength and many other aspects have been improved, and they age slowly compared to others of their species. Deer that enter the herd are slowly altered into these magical beings as well, and the ones that leave, for whatever reason, will change to normal once more. Although usually peaceful, the creatures respond with deadly force if threatened, though they still prefer to spare the lives of whatever attacked them if possible. Their most important trait is, however, that wherever they go they leave behind a trail of very fertile lands. The herd lives on Karestria, but it never permanently stays in one place on the island. Instead, the deer travel all over it, never stopping anywhere for more than a few days, wanderlust driving the creatures ever onward.

[Caesar]

Magnus creates the tower of the soul. – 0 Essence (Since you didn’t give me a lot to work with (neither the intended location of the tower nor a description I could quite work with (you said the towers test those who enter. How does this tower do that? What, exactly, do you mean when you say that someone is given the power to curse, waste or enthrall someone?), I can’t really weave further on this act. If you can better describe it, it’ll influence the world more later.)

Ode orders the Voice to encourage increased relations between the Astinean tribes and the city of Keluss, including migration between the two areas and families of mixed lineage. – 0 essence
Ode orders the Voice to decree the dedication of temples to both Ode and Nambe. – 0 essence
Ode orders the Voice to call out to the people around the continent (in whatever way possible) and urge them to undertake a pilgrimage to the Voice to see if they feel happy there. – 0 essence

Ode creates the DreamScape. - 3 essence

Spoiler: The DreamScape (click to show/hide)

The DreamScape is a realm created from mortal dreams, emotions and thoughts. It is filled with various entities also created from these same sources, the most powerful of which are created from strong emotions shared by large groups of people. The more powerful entities can gain control over portions of the DreamScape and the lesser entities dwelling in that area – they can then shape that area somewhat to their own liking.

The largest “owned” portion of the DreamScape is Ode’s Garden, which is a somewhat eerie but sleepy, peaceful area filled with trees, soft moss and small gurgling streams.

The Archspawn anonymously sends a single sphere of distilled void to Wieland and a request for an artifact sword, presented as an opportunity for Wieland to employ his full mastery of the craft. - 2 essence

Wieland forges ‘mundane’ weapons and armors of (by his standards) inferior quality during his time awake in the Forge of the Apostate. – 0 essence
Wieland creates a black sword. A masterfully crafted sword of unknown origins. Made of the purest black, hunger primeval emanates from it. – 2 essence

Hakkaros and Yahkuz attempt to negotiate a meeting between Ka’er Thul and Nathael Silvermark to discuss terms of peace between Heleph on one side and Nessaiie and Karestria on the other.
Ka’er Thul has not been informed that a negotiation was going on between Hakkaros and Yahkuz.

Deletheia enchants a single herd of deer on Karestria so that they become magical. – 2 essence

Spoiler: Deletheia’s Herd (click to show/hide)

The color of their hides has changed from brown to pure white, and their antlers are larger than those of even the oldest normal deer. Their speed, agility, strength and many other physical aspects have been improved, and they age slowly compared to others of their species. Deer that enter the herd are slowly altered into these magical beings as well, while the ones that leave, for whatever reason, will change to normal once more. Although usually peaceful, the creatures respond with deadly force if threatened, though they still prefer to spare the lives of whatever attacked them if possible. Their most important trait is, however, that wherever they go they leave behind a trail of very fertile lands.

The herd lives on Karestria, but it never permanently stays in one place on the island. Instead, the deer travel all over it, never stopping anywhere for more than a few days, wanderlust driving the creatures ever onward.

Sing of the first garden,
Sing of its lost embrace,
Sing of hard-fought freedom,
Sing of paradise regained.

Woe to those who wield the dagger,
Woe to He who threw the stone,
Woe to She who enslaved my people,
Woe to they who let me go.

Ode to time,
Ode to space,
Ode to Essence,
Ode to Void.

Rue the past,
Rue the present,
Rue the future,
Rue your choice.

Elegy of the Fallen

Turn Four: Accusations


The Keeper brought its eyes closer to the book, inspecting it for damage. As the universe had grown, so had the library, and its master had worked tirelessly to document the events of the world. This particular tome told the tale of a young woman called ‘Aenia’, who had lost her son and then later died horribly as a victim of her husband’s ambitions. For humans, it would make a tragic story, but to the Keeper, it was naught but another documentation of another life. Of course, the details differed, but the story remained the same. The Keeper’s ancient mind wandered to the age of daggers, and the ‘art’ of that time. Humanity had fallen into repetition, endlessly telling the same stories under different names.

Not the story interested it, but the book itself. For while the Keeper found little value in the words within, it took great pride in caring for the books. Such was its nature, such were its goals, so it was made. Producing a soft wind, the keeper blew the dust off the work, and set to repairing the damaged cover. So skilled was it at its work, that its thoughts were of something entirely different; of the world above the waves; of the tome that told the story of this world.

“Of deceit and treachery,

The Gods did not realize that, as they spoke, time on the mortal world passed quickly. So much faster did the world run than they, that their words could sometimes easily take days to reach the ears of the listener, yet mere thoughts could sometimes be conveyed in instants. Time, for the Gods, was a strange, fluid thing.

Under Ka'er Thul's rule, Heleph had grown to be strong, to be a force that was feared and hated among the southern isles. An army of the dead rested it its crypts, and while its population dwindled under the effects of starvation and oppression, Juz'Kutan, who had hid and waited until his services would be needed, finally felt its calling. The living, he argued, were of equal importance to his master Yahkuz as were the dead, for it is the living that die the deaths his master so craved.

Juz'Kutan, in his previous life, had been a general, and under Ka'er Thul, he would be again. Thus standing in the dark palace, he pledged his allegiance to the great lich-king of Heleph, through whom he would better serve Yahkuz. Recognizing the skills of his holy brother, Ka'er Thul appointed him to the position of high general of the Helephian armies, going so far as to even grant him command over the Ordo Dragonis.

Juz'Kutan had heard of Deletheia's sacred deer, spreading fertility across the land where it went, and armed with this knowledge, he had hatched a plan. Now, the Ordo Dragonis were under his command, and he finally had the power to serve his lord. When the stars kissed the heavens, the drakes of Yahkuz set tot he sky, crossing a great distance over several days. When finally they reached Karestria, he sent out scouts to find the herd.

Descending on the unwary animals, the Ordo Dragonis trampled through the herd. Despite their obvious strength, however, the magical animals retaliated furiously. Much like the undead, they refused to stay dead themselves, fighting viciously to kill, maim or scare off Yahkuz' servants. Not a single animal fled, not a single deer avoided harm, not a single animal went down without at least wounding one of their adversaries. Yet, despite all their fury, the drakes prevailed.

An utter darkness seemed to cover Karestria on this night of sacrilege, and when most of the herd lay slaughtered, Juz'Kutan signaled for cages to be put to the ground. Carries by four drakes, the cages were made of solid iron, tough and large enough to hold even one of the drakes themselves. The bars were lined with tiny spikes, which would not kill, but surely pain whatever creature would try to break through. It was not through fear, but through sheer force that the Ordo Dragonis forced the remaining animals into these horrendous cages, and set off into the night, leaving their casualties lying amidst the carnage.

Back on Heleph, the animals, bloodied but alive, were released onto the barren lands, where soon new life would blossom to sustain its human populace. Weakened by hunger, the herd ignored Yahkuz' warriors and set out, spreading its blessing. When Juz'Kutan returned to the palace to report of his success to Ka'er Thul, the latter called for games to celebrate these events, and, more importantly, subdue his populace. “Give them bread and games”, the lich-king unknowingly reiterated a proverb as old as the first universe itself.

As Heleph's greatest warriors engaged in ritual combat to please the populace, Nessaiie's Hounds of War howled to the sky in great fury, for Ka'er Thul had committed an unforgivable offense to their god's divine wife. From many throats echoed the same dark promise: Heleph would fall, for the war against the city would know no end but its destruction.”

As the war between Nessaiie and Heleph intensitied even further than ever before, the greatest smiths watched Wieland forge his artifacts. None were perfect by his standards, but all were beyond their skill. Most of all, they commented, he used an alloy so strong, so impressive, that if only they were to learn how to create it, they would be able to elevate the art of smithing to levels so high, that it would become a sacred act.

One of these smiths, Malleus, watched tirelessly, learned eagerly, and, in the end, succeeded gloriously. 'Steel', he felt inspired to call the metal, when he had finally succeeded in copying his Lord's art. Teaching his brother smiths how he had recreated the metal from the materials of the earth, he ordered them to forge of this metal the greatest of weapons and armor, unlike any seen before. The Forge of the Apostate rang with productivity never before heard of, and when a set of steel swords were forged for the council of Nessaiie as a gift from the smiths, their work was declared sacred.

Remestes had become a small, but powerful empire. As its magically talented caste honed its art and the city-state set its eyes out to the world around it, the council realized that while they were without doubt the most powerful state magically, they had not the population to compete with the other powers of the world. They had found an enemy in the Empire of Galadres, and they knew that this enemy would best them by sheer numbers if it came to blows.

The highest and most talented mages often shrouded themselves in mystery, showing their faces only to those they had deemed worthy, either hiding them in shadows or covering their visages with masks. One mage in particular stood out among the ranks of the nobility, simply referred to as 'Nyx'. Always hooded, the man – or woman – wore thick and unrevealing robes and a hood that seemed to be made of shadows. Nyx never spoke, but simply shared their thoughts with those who it deemed worthy. If it were not for the fact that it denied being related directly to Magnus, the magocracy would have declared the Nyx a creature of divine heritage, or perhaps a god itself.

The council never argued against the Nyx, for it had never been wrong. Thus, when the Nyx addressed the council during a heated debate on the war with the Empire, they listened: “Fools. To field an army and march against the Empire would be suicidal. I have seen a fleet, sailing for this city, to the east. Remestes is strong, but not omnipotent.” The dark-hooded figure glanced slowly over the mages that had gathered before it.

“We can not strike our enemies directly, and thus, we must strike them where they can not defend themselves. I will thus create and lead the Order of Shadows. I will operate in the interest of our city, and to do so I demand that none of you interferes. I will claim any of the children in the city for our cause, will train them, mold them, shape them into a weapon that slays faster than our enemies know that they were hit. I will sow discord and chaos.

Realize that no matter how large a body is, it will fall if one decapitates it. The children of this city will become a blade so sharp that it will decapitate the very gods of the apemen that think themselves elected to serve, and I will direct it.”

(For the interested reader, the Nyx' complete speech can be found in the work “The History of the Remestian Council”, Chapter VIII, “Famous Speeches”. For the purposes of this work, it has been cut short for the reader's comfort.”)

When finally the Nyx fell silent, it was granted full rights by the council to do what had to be done to aid the city, and for a week, the Nyx visited an orphanage every day, taking at least one child whenever he came. It recruited several of the most talented mages in the city, and then simply vanished into the shadows, coiled like a snake that waited for its prey.

Magnus' magics found a practitioner outside Remestes too, for Tae'Kul, he who had created the Banshee,  settled in Heleph. There, given a laboratory in the royal palace by the lich-king Ka'er Thul, he started experimenting, attempting to master and broaden the power he and his brethren had at their disposal.

As Tae'Kul explored the limits of his power, the Order of the Mace clashed with a Kelussian patrol during a training session, close to Adagnes. While the patrol was almost completely vanquished, the Order lost several troops and a commander in the process. After the Empire sent a furious messenger to their neighbor, they received a reply that the patrol had received incorrect orders and thus marched in the wrong territory.

Even as the relations with Keluss grew sour, cults took a hold in the Empire, claiming that Galadrin was a manifestation of Radiant Sarthysin, for only one as devout as her could have inspired an Empire as great as theirs. The Order of the Mace declared such proclamations heresy, and hunted the cultists with vigor. Despite their efforts, however, many survived, and the Empire accused Keluss of sowing discord in their lands. As the tensions grew, so did their military efforts, and the Empire started construction on the Morning Bastion.

Soon after they did, disaster struck in Keluss, and the population started dying to a mysterious fever. It took more than a few days before members of the guard managed to trace the source to several of the city's wells. More interestingly, however, they discovered that some of those who had drank from the water had survived. Those who did had used vessels made of the colorful wood that was found in the swamps. Upon further experimentation they discovered that when water was scooped from the wells, the poison would simply drip through the vessels, leaving clean water. Thus Keluss replaced the buckets that were used to operate their wells with buckets made of the mysterious wood, filtering their waters.

That the city's population had suffered was not, however, easily forgotten. After the recent tensions, Keluss suspected that the Empire was behind the poisoning, and that they were seeking vengeance. Thus, they made public their accusation, and warned their steppe allies to the north of the enemy that lay to the west.

The Voice of Ode had ordered construction of a great temple in Astinos, which had resulted in eager migration from the plebs in Keluss. With them came news of the increased tensions with the Empire, and upon hearing this news the Voice, fed by the filth of the growing population, started creating an army of abominations born of its flesh. The Voice told the populace that this army would march for them, and that they needed to be armed. Thus said, the nation's best smiths set to creating custom armors for those of Ode's children that had shown potential, made of bronze or iron. Some beasts were even given weapons. To its children, the Voice said that those who proved to be capable of greatness would deserve the right to a name. Thus motivated, the creatures of filth trained hard to become a disciplined, strong fighting force.

The Nyx' warning had been true, for Testones had gathered his army and left his cities to his pregnant wife, sailing for Remestes. His fleet was strong and vast, and he commanded a skilled army, that could pose a serious threat to the Magocracy. Soon after his departure, Athia, the Lady of War, gave birth to a daughter. She named her Cheiristei, and with Testones gone, managed the kingdom with great efficiency. She ordered the construction of numerous shrines and temples to Hakkaros, his armorer, Wieland and Deletheia, his wife. Not a day went by that she did not take her little daughter to one of these places of worship, speaking to her of the greatness of war, the abundance that either fed the armies or motivated them to conquer, and the production that was both fueled by and that fueled the war machine. The population, awed by her devoutness, followed suit, and referred to her as the 'Queen of War'.”

The Keeper had, in its absent-mindedness, gotten a hold of the Tome of Tomes of this world. The Keeper closed the work, thinking of Xarn, son of the Apprentice. A couple of non-magically talented Remestan workers had hidden the child, which had been the only reason why the Nyx had failed to find him. The couple worshipped Galadrin in silence, and they preyed for the future of the child. Not feeling destined for greatness at all, the toddler stumbled around, being a general nuisance. To the Keeper, this sounded like the child followed in his father's footsteps, who had been a hindrance on a generally larger scale. Placing the tome back where it belonged, the Keeper ran its fingers over the cover, then set out to continue its endless task.




One of the three remaining prophets of Yahkuz, Juz’Kutan, appears at the gates of Heleph and offers his services to Ka’er Thul.
Ka’er Thul appoints Juz’Kutan as high general of his armed forces and even grants him command over the Ordo Dragonis.
Juz’Kutan’s Ordo Dragonis raids Karestria, fighting and killing almost eighty percent of Deletheia’s herd, then capturing and kidnapping most of what remains. They set free the herd on Heleph, where they make the barren lands fertile again. The Ordo Dragonis loses about a quarter of their number to the enraged herd in the process.
Ka'er Thul arranges games for the populace of Heleph, where members of the Ordo Dragonis test their mettle against each other.

The Hounds of War, Nessaiie’s order of berserkers, declare a state of eternal war against Heleph, pledging to continue their fight until the city is destroyed.

Several of the greatest smiths, led by a man named Malleus, watch Wieland work his craft in the Forge of the Apostate. Inspired by his craft, they try to copy the techniques that he used to create steel, and the smiths study the results of Wieland’s work to further improve their craft. They share the secrets they learned with the other smiths of the apostate.
Under Malleus’ guidance, the smiths of the apostate devote themselves to their craft religiously, and as their skill grows and they continue to work with a metal (steel) never created by mortal hands before, they become sacred in the eyes of the rest of the populace.

The Magocracy of Remestes sets up the Order of Shadows, an order of mage-assassins, led by an anonymous individual referred to as ‘Nyx’.

Spoiler: The Order of Shadows (click to show/hide)

The Order of Shadows is an order of mage-assassins loyal to Remestes. The Order tests children in the orphanages of the city, and, if they are deemed suitable, they are offered a better life as servants of the state. From the age of eighteen, the children are known as ‘Shadowweavers’, whereas those who carried out several missions successfully are referred to as ‘Whisperers’.

Tae’Kul, who created the Banshee, settles in Heleph. Given a laboratory to work in, he starts studying the magics of the world as they were created by Magnus.

The Order of the Mace skirmishes with Kelussian troops near Adagnes, losing a commander in the process. Keluss declares that the troops received the wrong orders and crossed too far into the Empire’s territory by mistake.

Several cults appear in the Empire, who believe that Galadrin is a manifestation of Radiant Sarthysin and thus worship her. The Order of the Mace tries to root out the heretics, but fails.
The Empire of Galadres blames Keluss for spreading lies among their subjects to sow discord.
The Empire of Galadres starts construction on the Morning Bastion, devoting most of the nation’s spare resources into gearing up for war.

Wells in Keluss are poisoned. After a portion of the populace die, people discover that vessels made of Radiant Sarthysin’s wood purify the water, removing all contaminants. Armed with this knowledge, the Kelussians recover and blame The Empire of Galadres for their plight.

The Voice of Ode orders the construction of a large temple in Astinos to be dedicated to Nambe and Ode. Immigrants from Keluss set themselves to the task eagerly.
The Voice of Ode slowly generates an legion of monstrosities born of its flesh. The human populace starts forging custom armor and weapons for the monsters.

Testones’ armies, led by himself, set sail for Remestes.
Athia, the Lady of War, gives birth to a daughter and names her Cheiristei.
Athia orders the construction of many sites of worship to Hakkaros, Deletheia and Wieland.
Athia becomes known as the 'Queen of War'.

Xarn, son of the Apprentice, is now a toddler with a future yet undetermined. (Last turn, he was a baby. This should be a good indication of the amount of time that passed.)

Code: [Select]

(Atilliano) Deletheia: 2 Essence
(Azthor) The Archspawn: 3 Essence
(Fniff) Nambe: 5 Essence
(Ghazkull) Wieland: 2 Essence
(gman8181) Ode: 2 Essence
(Harbingerjm) Radiant Sarthisyn: 4 Essence
(ragnarok97071) Magnus: 4 Essence
(Shootandrun) Hakkaros: 4 Essence
(Vagel7) Yahkuz: 2 Essence

[Fniff]

Yes, he had studied all that could be studied and what little he could find could be found upon the place where the steppe bled into swamp. He had strode over the mountains of the Vein into Astinos, where he walked over the river to the grand steppe, and had crawled through the endless sea of dry grass. But with bloodied feet and dirt-covered hands, he had ended his quest for knowledge.

As he stood fully for the first time in weeks, he felt the strange sensation of the Void. He feared the Rittik, but none were around. He feared the Banshee, but she did not appear to him.    

Yishmael found that the great and terrible mysteries of life rarely opened themselves up to him. Even as a mage he trod the ground made by others. There was nothing he had seen that hadn't been experienced a hundred times by people who could describe it's beauty or terror better then he ever could. Every day was the same as someone else's. More then anything, he wished for a thing he could say was his experience alone.

So he sat and rested for a day. Then a week. Then a month. He drank from the swampwater and killed the occasional horse that came by. As the months became indistinct and he found that the day and the night were forming into a single time that was "now", he found that even in the mindset he was in (which could only be replicated by mystics of the highest order), he still found nothing of importance. Apart from the occasional fruitless spirit sighting and the altogether too-rare vision nothing truly beyond his world had shown itself to him.

He thought of going home. Yishmael knew there would be nothing for him. The start of this petty search for a unique experience began with a siren named after the first one, Rasata, her full name lost to the mists of time. The siren's name had been altered to Rasatu, and he had told Yishmael that there is a no more miserable experience then to be lacking in the truth. Yishmael had loved him long before that point and had not spoken of it. But a quest to find the truth would prove a certain kind of love to Rasatu, even if it was the wrong sort, sounded noble enough to embark on.

Now Rasatu was almost certainly doing something else in the impossibly far away Remestes, unconcerned with his activity. Rogue mages that do not serve the Magocracy do no good to anyone. The idea broke Yishmael's heart but he pressed on in the vain hope that perhaps Rasatu would be impressed anyway.

One day it happened. Standing upon the steppe, as he did, a sight presented itself. The god Nambe walking upon the earth as if it was nothing of importance, on the hunt. Yishmael couldn't help himself, he ran and ran towards the vision before it could disappear and the questions spilled out before he could catch them.

"Tell me of life and death! Tell me of the spirit world! Tell me of the meaning! Please, I beg of you!" he yelled ungraciously. "I need to know it all. It must noted. Humanity shall finally understand how the world functions, why it must be and how it could be changed. Tell me, my lord Nambe!"

For a few seconds, Nambe stared at him with the one unblinking eye his mask possessed. "Excuse me?"

A little uncertain of himself, Yishmael continued. "Life and death. Secrets of the universe. The meaning of it all. I really must know."

"... Are you certain you're asking the right person? I have tasks I must complete right this minute."

Yishmael couldn't feel anything for a moment. His story couldn't possibly have ended like this. Years of devotion, watching the steppe and the swamp? Camped within the void, waiting for the spirits to sing to him? All for nothing? Couldn't be so. Wouldn't be so. But it was. And it would always be. He felt a rage within himself. "You're telling me that I spent away six years of my existence waiting for an answer that didn't exist in the first place?"

"You would have more luck watching the people of this earth then the steppe. I keep it safe. Now please, I must be away."

The insult was too great. The entire comedy of his life was coming to a stop and he could see the punchline. His honor would not let him return. After a false attempt at enlightment he would jump into the swamp, let the water steal his life, and watch the crocodiles feast upon his body. His next life would be better. Any life would be better. But this degradation, this cosmic lining of the stars that would allow his utter humiliation would not stand.

"Fuck you, Nambe." said Yishmael. "You and all the other gods! You cunts! I just pissed away a lifetime for absolutely nothing!" He screamed then, because mere curses would not do. He began to kick the grass, the ground, himself. He slapped himself in the face and then started hitting himself repeatedly with a rock while Nambe watched with an unreadable mask disguising any possible reaction. With his face all bloodied and his rage impossible to contain, he did the impossible.

He grabbed Nambe by the shoulders tightly, like a brother would to his sibling, and then drew his forehead back. Before Nambe could even guess what was happening, he smashed forward and headbutted him. The spirit hunter lay on the ground, utterly in shock. Something had been accomplished that hadn't been accomplished before. A mortal had struck a God and had some effect.

There was silence for a while. Once again, Yishmael felt nothing. The stars, the sky, the earth, the moon. None of this had any meaning. Everything was a miracle and it was so disgusting. So unpredictable. Nothing made sense. Nothing ever would. He felt the call of annihilation and he had answered it. Nambe looked at him in the manner of one staring into the abyss.

"... Will you apologize?"

"No."

"Will you never ever come back here if I tell you some of my secrets?"

"Yes."

And so it was that Yishmael learned of the truth behind the steppes and the swamps by doing what had never been done. How was it that he was not struck down? A god can kill a man. But in the right circumstances, a man can kill a god.

And even gods can burn.

Nambe teaches a few magical secrets based on the spirit world to a man named Yishmael. What he does with them is up to him, but as he is currently going through the closest thing to an anti-Nirvana it's probably not going to be good.

Off-screen act: The spirit world begins to naturally fuse with the others. The dream and afterlife worlds can now be accessed, and Nambe attempts to make this change as easy for everyone as possible.

[gman8181]

The Mouth of Ode watched events across the continent and thought carefully over the events that transpired. If war were inevitable then so be it but the Voice was also conscientious of how the Asteneii had just recently recovered from war and that initiating conflict with a new enemy could potentially set Asteneii back to the weakened state it had been in before, leaving it vulnerable to others. Dwelling carefully on this, it decided to first send diplomats to all the nations on the continent arranging a meeting on neutral territory where the varied peoples of the continent could ideally smooth out their differences and open up more peaceful and mutually beneficial relations between all parties.

Ode’s cold gaze drifted through the DreamScape and where it lingered, the residents cringed and shivered until the presence moved onward. There had been a disturbance here, a foreign presence. Ode felt the power of another god briefly intrude upon his residence and exert just enough power to weaken the boundary between this realm and that of the mortals. Slowly, Ode felt along the boundary, testing its new fragility.

Here. Right Here. Ode’s presence rushed up to the weakest point of boundary but did not damage it any further. Instead it slowly breathed through it outward into the world before retreating back to the Garden. Better. Ode had been losing interest in the politics of the world and gods but that was not to say it had lost interest in the world. The nation of Asteneii had sustained Ode with essence thus far but no nation of mortal men was eternal. New methods of feeding would be devised to supplement those that already existed. Ode had no intention of forever scrounging the world fighting other gods over worship and territory when it now had this realm and could soon bring in others to enjoy it. No dead realm was this like that of the underworld. Here, the mortals could be brought to play forever, not dead but immortal in the realm of dreams.

A dark cloud blossomed out into the world, illuminating the ground underneath with bright arcs of lightning and making its inhabitants shudder with the deafening boom of thunder. A wisp of the cloud slowly descended downward from the sky and crept like a rolling fog down streets, into windows and under doors. Those who breathed in the fog that night found themselves later dreaming of the Garden and the ability to access its power. The power of the DreamScape, the Voice of Ode whispered to them, was the power to make manifest one’s dreams as reality.

The Mouth of Ode sends diplomats to all peoples of the island, requesting them to send diplomats of their own to neutral ground to discuss possible peace and more open relations. In case of treachery, it continues preparing its legions for combat.

Ode breathes out the weakened barrier created by Nambe and gives dreams of the Garden to the people of the world. Those who pursue the dreams may find themselves able to use the power of the DreamScape and to summon beings from it. The more one uses the power of the DreamScape, the more powerful they will become in it but they may also find themselves physically and mentally changing in response to the DreamScape’s energies. Prolonged use by a very powerful individual or by large groups of people may begin warping the surroundings and extreme extended use may break down the barriers between the worlds until they become blended. Should this happen, individuals may find themselves getting lost in the DreamScape in that area. If a mortal dies within the DreamScape or a significantly tainted area, they will shortly after be reborn in Ode’s Garden where they must wander for all eternity feeding Ode with their essence. Many of the DreamScape’s other residents also enjoy feeding off mortal essence and more powerful ones may attempt to make pacts with mortals for their souls. After they claim them, they keep them locked away as best they can, attempting to keep them from other DreamScape residents who may want to steal the souls for themselves, including Ode. Mortals within the DreamScape are not (un)dead but living immortal (although many of them still become horribly warped from living in the DreamScape).