Turn -1: In the Beginning...
Year 764, Month of:
Korroarfall
Rexxisreign
Bellia
Autumnjoy
Kia
Valor
Clammor
Alvin
Abbey
Mortus
Autumnwrath
Glaciana
---
Ketari:
You had heard of the Island of Plenty, and had first wished to visit, long ago. Every so often a gull or albatross would speak of it's rumored existence, and of the Harpies who supposedly live there.
The Harpy, a large and fearsome bird with the body and speech of a woman. Nothing would please you more than to catch such a creature, learn its secrets, or consume it. Sadly, these magnificent birds were driven from Bellian lands shortly after the War Before Time and long before your creation.
When the Bellians discovered the island for themselves, you were exited, and when stories of the harpies came back to your homeland, you were ecstatic; The Parrot Harpy of the Island of Plenty was an entirely new kind of bird altogether! Not only was it said to have human speech, but wit and intelligence at least equal to that of the average Bellian! To top it off, these Harpies supposedly have gods of their own! Just dwelling on the thought of meeting, or even hunting, a creature such as yourself, both bird and goddess, was enough to send shivers of joy and anticipation down your spine.
You went at once to Rexxis to beg his permission to depart for the island, and although he was loath to send a wild goddess such as yourself as his sole representative, the Island was weighing on the mind of the God King nonetheless, and your pleading was turned out to be the spark that inspired one of his famous grand plans...
---
Auratus:
All dragons desire wealth and power, but your mother was always greedy even by the standards of her kind. To protect and expand her vast treasure hoard, she has acquired and has made many artifacts with which to view the future, anticipate threats, and locate things of value before anybody else.
It was these artifacts that warned her to avoid involvement in The War Before Time, which brought about the destruction of all other Dragons in what became Bellian land. It was these artifacts that allowed her to foresee the where several of the Old Dragon Crowns would end up after the war, so that she could pick them up before Rexxis and his kin could make trophies out of them. It was these artifacts that allowed her gauge her actions and carefully build wealth in the years since, without ever offending enough of the gods to threaten her existence or hoard in the process. It was these artifacts that allowed her to see the Island of Plenty, and the potential wealth that it could bring Raxis, 70 years before the first Bellian explorer did. It was also these artifacts that allowed her to foresee and plan her best chance of denying this wealth to the Wealth God... and that chance is you.
Getting you accepted as one of the new island gods wasn't difficult. Your mother visited her rival, and preyed upon his pride by boasting to The King of Gods that her spawn could be more successful on the island than the spawn of his kin. Rexxis, ever eager to best the dragon, countered by challenging her to send you to the island and prove it. His only condition was that you be made a proper god first, so that the challenge would be fair. Although Godhood was never your goal, you did already met two of the three Bellian criteria for godhood, immortality and great power, and you would lose nothing by meeting the third: The ability to draw power from prayer.
Unia, the goddess who administered weddings and other such ceremonies for Rexxis' bunch, was assigned to perform the ritual attuning you to Bellian prayer. You met her in a simple mortal village, where she lived as the wife of a simple farmer who had not even the slightest hint of her true identity. She dressed in the work clothes of a Bellian Commoner or Barbarian slave, and had four children from whom she was withholding divine knowledge and power until the death of their mortal father. As she drew the magic circles around you, and anointed you with fragrant oil you were struck by a moment of confirmation; Your mother was completely and totally right about the Bellian Gods. How could one not hate and feel superior to such a sad and humble creature?
---
Ketemos + Pyrite
Telen's eyes follow carefully as her only two sons enter the observatory and approached the telescope where she is working. This would be, to the best of her great knowledge, the first meeting between the boys, and the Goddess had resolved to make it a monumental one.
She had interrupted both of her children to summon them to her side; Her eldest, the child of her consent, had been studying anatomy and human behavior under the tutelage of a widely feared barbarian interrogation and torturemaster. Her youngest, the child she shared with the hated one, had been called back from Glaciana's icy realm, where he was trying to track down the soul of a long dead philosopher so as to learn the correct interpretation of several controversial lines in The Third Treatise Against Abbey's Insurrections.
"Greetings my sons. I trust that you are each learned enough to know of the existence, name, and appearance of the other, so introductions are unnecessary. I apologize profusely for interrupting your respective studies, but I need your help. I am plagued by a quandary, and need the help of each of you in finding an answer."
Telen hangs her head in shame. It was rare for the goddess to talk to anybody, rarer still for her to take visitors, and completely unheard of for her to admit weakness and ask for help.
She begins softly as tears, perhaps born by the love she had for her sons, and perhaps born of her desperation, run down her cheek. "Five years ago, a philosopher asked me a question in prayer. At first I brushed him off as another mortal not worth my time, but as I thought about it, it occurred to me that I didn't have an answer to his quarry. The question: 'What makes one the brother of another?"
Rising from the Telescope, Telen positions herself between her children, and drapes a dainty arm over the shoulder of each. "Since my mind cannot produce an answer on its own, I have been running experiments on the matter, and it has occurred to me that you both would be great for isolating the variable of a shared mother. You share not a father, nor an upbringing, and although you are both intelligent and claim to possess the best interests of mortals in your hearts, you each have a very different, and perhaps even irreconcilable, belief as to what those interests are."
She pauses briefly, and pulls both of the young gods to her bosom for a deep hug. "I fear this could be our last meeting. You have each expressed interest in watching over the mortals on that island that in their ignorance they have only just discovered. I have talked to Rexxis. You are each accepted for the job. You will work and live in close proximity to one another, and will share responsibility for the same mortals. There will be three others, but I fear that they are the sort who will see their flock as a source for prayer energy... at best. Send messages to me with Mortus when he comes to collect souls. Let me know if you stumble upon any insight as to the nature of brotherhood... and just let me know... how you are doing... from time to time."
And with that, for the first time since time began, Telen's composure breaks down completely. For the next five minutes, she does naught but hold her children and cry.
---
Tulwor:
Your jealousy grew as the mission to install gods on the Island of Plenty took shape. First you wanted to go merely to explore the island and have great adventures. Then you wanted to go because your enigmatic 3/4ths sister Ketari was going, and you wanted to explore the island and have great adventures with her. Next you learned that Rexxis was allowing the spawn of the Stone Dragoness to take part of the journey, so as to prove once and for all that the gods made better gods than a dragon might, and you were at once overcome with the desire to test your might against that of Auratus.
You knew your chances of being invited to go to the island were slim - if they even existed at all. Rexxis was in charge of deciding who was going, and you had have never made your disdain for the King of the Gods a secret. To further hurt your odds, the main purpose of the adventure was to look after and provide for the Bellians on the island, and even you had to admit that that was a task to which you would be poorly suited.
Ever hopeful however, you began to settle your affairs and pack your few belongings, on the off chance an invite would find its way into your hands. Then, three days before the expedition was to depart, you were summoned by your father to meet him at the Port of the Gods. You assumed that the summons was to break the bad news and kill the tiny hope that you still nursed, so you went out to meet the god of the dying as most do - with dread and despair close to your heart.
As you approached the spot where The Galley of Mortus was moored, however, your mood at once changed. The look on your father's beaked face was the closest that he could manage to a grin. "Son," he announced, "yer going ta live on the Island of Plenty! I just got done playing the old guilt game on our venerable king. Told him he owes it to ya, for making ya cut out the chumming around with the heathens, and fer letting Sir Valor lock ya up for as long as he did."
Mortus spent a good thirty minutes or so recounting the whole conversation that he had with Rexxis in a jovial fashion, occasionally even breaking out his mocking impression of the king. But as the grand clock struck midnight, signaling the start of a new month, and that the God of the Dying must soon resume his rounds, his demeanor quickly changed to one that was deadly serious.
"Now listen here boy! Cause I don't wanna lecture you on the boat in front of the others later. I talked with Rexxis, and am sending you on this trip, because you need ta grow up. This isn't one of yer kiddy adventures, but an entirely new life for ya. You need ta find something to devote all that strength and zeal ya have. Ya can't be the god o' pissing around and picking fights till the end of time. That is what I did when I was your age, and then I grew the feck up an' started doing this; My job ain't perfect, but I wouldn't trade it fer anything, not even the nothing you got going for ya right now. Find something ya love, and give yerself to it!"
With a chuckle, the vulture faced god gave you a slap on the shoulder. "Ya be back here in time for launch, understood? I don't wanna treat ya like one of them dying cowards that I gotta round up! Now if ya excuse me, I have to clean up after shipwreck, a serial killer, aaaaaand a mass execution, before picking up some Heralds for ya guys from her iciness and coming back for you all. Take care until then!"
And at that, Mortus set off on his Galley, leaving you to retire to the nearest tavern to consider his words.
All the Young Gods:
"Watch yer step climbing aboard, it be wet and slippery." Mortus warns, "And for those of ya who have never travled with me before, please note that the Galley suppresses all divine power save my own, so don't even think 'bout any funny business."
The boat is wooden and rather small. Aside from the collection of strange and powerful beings aboard, a mast made of twisted and intertwined ice and gold, and sails sewn from collected fog, one might easily mistake the legendary Galley of Mortus for any other dated Bellian watercraft.
"My oars and sails will get us to the island in four hours, so make yerselves comfortable, and be thankful ya all got me. It takes mortal craft two and a half months to make this particular crossing. Make use of the time to get ta know each other, or perhaps you may find it useful to talk with the Heralds. They are supposed to proclaim your arrival and explain your new role to the mortals, but I doubt they know anything of any of you save yer names..."
As Mortus speaks, he gestures to four humans sitting in the back of the boat. You know well that the Bellian gods send back mortals who have died both recently and publicly to deliver important messages to the general populace; Such Heralds are taken seriously because their appearance is clearly miraculous.
The four chosen to announce your arrival, two men and two women, have little in common, save for the scars that commemorate their first deaths; Although Mortus and Glaciana each possess the ability to generate a flawless copy of a soul's original vessel, they have learned through experience that leaving some mutilation is a great way to prevent a Herald from being accused as a fraud.
The first of the four is a fair Bellian woman adorned in a fine robe of silk lined with silver. The robe is held together by a gold lightning bolt broach: The mark of House Infelix, a Bellian family that dates back to the war before time, but that has had little luck obtaining crowns or any significant power among the city states. A single scar wraps around her neck, indicating that she was likely beheaded. The fact that said scar is clean and uniform strongly implies said beheading was a planned execution as opposed to something that occurred in the chaotic heat of battle. Her face is not easy to read; She stares expressionlessly at the sea, seemingly lost in her own thoughts.
Next on the back bench is a male Bellian youth, likely just shy of his 16th birthday. He wears light leather armor on top of a well kept outfit, which is likely the uniform for some mercenary band or merchant's guard. He bears a longbow, a quiver of arrows, a short sword, and, around his neck, the star cut ruby bestowed upon those Bellians who die heroically so that those gods handling their souls may treat them with dignity. His body is plastered with huge scars, that seem more consistent with the damage inflicted by the claws of large beasts than that of the weapons of man or god. They boy seems overwhelmed by his present situation, as he gazes at each god and each other herald on the boat with the wide eyes of amazement.
The third herald is a frightening man covered from head to toe with terrible burns. Although smaller than most of the deities present, the burned one is clearly the largest and best built of the heralds; His massive muscles, in some places, are visible beneath gaps burnt into his flesh. He dresses as a tradesman would, and above his clothes he wears an apron adorned with pockets containing various metalworker's tools. His demeanor seems to be one of depression or despair, which is understandable; Glaciana does many things, not all of them pleasant, to the souls of the Bellian dead, but to be sent back to mortal life as a disfigured freak is a particularly cruel fate.
In contrast to the depression of her neighbor, the final herald appears to be in high spirits - she smiles, hums, and occasionally belts out a few lines to a bawdy song before remembering that she is in the presence of gods. Her hair is a bright barbarian crimson in opposition to the Bellian brown of the other three. Her dress is the practical garb of a sailor, and the silver trimmings and jewelry that goes with it implies that she is a successful one. She has many tattoos, many of which state her to be an officer in the service of a pirate lord. Her face is a purplish blue, indicating that her death involved a lack of oxygen; Drowning would be the likely culprit in her case.
Mortus takes his spot at the rear of the boat, and begins to propel and steer his craft at unfathomable speeds with the Oar of Fate. The Vulture headed one himself might make for good conversation; As every mortal eventually winds up on his Galley, he is well versed in their lore, culture, and gossip, and as the forsworn ferryman and naval officer to the Bellian Gods, he knows at least as much about their comings and goings as well.
Only hours remain before your new life begins, but until then, there is little to do but talk...