Print

Please login or register.
1 Hour 1 Day 1 Week 1 Month Forever
Login with username, password and session length

[micelus]

The Tutelospera noticed a new seat rise next to Cerediron's own in the Hall of the Gods, and rose to greet its new occupant. Non-humanoid and mechanical, much like itself.

"This, my new friend, is where the good intentions of the foolish lead."

((I'm assuming all gods who haven't stated their position to be in Not-Olympus))

[Madman198237]

The Hall of the Gods will be known as Mírdanrond. ((Must have forgotten to put a name in after the joke))

Act: Hounds of Making
Long has the House of Making been without subjects, without strength. That all changed when the Tanryn were created. Each a different form of Creation, they reflected the form of their Maker--as if an Acterian, of the original, undamaged variety, but of flesh. When not doing anything else, they roam the world, with no harsh glow or pomp and circumstance, merely creating things wherever they chose. On the surface, in the sky, on the Floating Islands. They leave creations scattered around, but always the cast-off made things are simple, and helpful. Violence is left to the more...barbaric of the Pantheon.

Act: Knight of Making
A statue of the most heavily enchanted stone ever made, the Tanrochir was the Knight of the House of Making, and it stood ever behind the throne of its King. It was a repository for the designs that the King had not yet had time to build. However, it was made of enchanted adamantine ore, and could fight if necessary.


((Guys, make your own crests/symbols for the thrones and post them here, would you? It's all part of the decoration. Also, if you DON'T exercise some amount of creative faculty, Cerediron is going to have to go beat it into your skull))

[Roboson]

I beseech thee Phalanalin, release Kol onto Armiles. It seems as though the Acterians would rather die by throwing themselves upon her than to run. And those brave souls that do run, don't descend into darkness, but instead, madness. This conflict is not their burden to bear, and I do not wish it upon them. Release what is mine, and I will withdraw my knight.

[Jerick]

Having been distracted a while by some of the new information appearing in his book it took Ralkieis quiet some time to respond to Phalanalin but eventually his wandering attention drifted back to the goddess. He composed his response and sent his messenger.
"Truths are absolute or they are not truths. There is no such thing as the most absolute truth, it is binary. There are or there are not. And presenting truth so that it is seems to be something different is not truth it is dishonest. Am I immune to this? Is everything I present absolute truth? I am honest with myself, I try my greatest but the answer is still no. I am not infallible. I am imperfect.

As for divine guidance it is absolute truth that they do not need it, they can survive without it. Saying they need it to reach their potential is a different discussion altogether. Yet even in that discussion it is still false. It is false for several reasons; first what their potential is and what they should be is entirely subjective. It is possible for some to say they've already reached their potential and believe it and they would not be wrong so it could be argued that they already reached their potential the moment they were created. What you see as their potential may not be the full extent of their potential to someone else, it is only the part of their potential that you value. You would not support their potential to murder and eat each other for example. Morals are subjective, what they should be is subjective and will differ depending on what god you ask. What you seem to mean when you speak of guidance and potential is getting their values to match your own and them working towards what you want them to work towards. There's nothing inherently wrong with that and they are unlikely to adopt your values without your intervention. But they do not need your values or mine for that matter. They have shown to be able to grow and change on their own. Do you really think that without guidance they won't seek out their own meaning? That a creature that can grow and change will stay forever leading a hollow and empty existence? Meaning is meaningless and surprisingly irrelevant. They will only live hollow lives once they've decided they are living hollow lives. Hollowness and meaning are both lies. Things just are. Things aren't bad or good they just are. Would you lie to them and ascribe meaning to this reckless reality? Would you share with them your meaning? Would it make your actions more meaningful? Would it ease any feelings of hollowness you feel? We are similar to the mortals in many ways. Much of what you say about them could apply to us. So I will ask a few legitimate questions. Do you think we need guidance? Since we lack guidance do you think therefore we lack meaning and live hollow lives?

Lying and cheating are not wise nor is a dogmatic obsession with the truth such as I possess. But I am not a wise god and few would claim otherwise. Your statements about not getting caught however betrays more than a little implicit arrogance. Assuming you won't be caught is unwise, especially in a reality in which I exist. Cheating spends your reputation and is something I find distasteful but is not always unwise. It is unwise when there are other better options, understand what it costs you to cheat and lie, to anger the other gods and poison their trust. There are more ways for the weak to beat the strong than cheating. There are many different kinds of strengths. No one and nothing is universally weak unless they have been created to be so. Wisdom is matching your strengths to the enemies weaknesses and is in avoiding potentially damaging fights altogether. Wisdom lies in convincing the strong to take up the banner of the weak. Wisdom is to be able to take actions that will benefit you greatly in the future while the impatient spend their efforts on quickly lost short term gains.

I have never said that my book was infallible. I suspect that it is but in this universe of possibilities I do not know if there is something that can or will be able to hide from it. I never be able to certainty that it is infallible. But sometime in the future it's possible I might be able to say with certainty that it isn't,"

[NUKE9.13]

Within the hall of Mirdanrond, the Throne of Shadows shimmers. Blackness fills the as-yet empty crest, a truly Dark colour, that saps the light from the hallowed hall, and hurts the eye to look at. Within the Blackness, a twisting form appears- this one merely black (as opposed to Black). It coalesces into a snake, with Black eyes and a forked tongue. Of course the heraldry of the House of Twisting Shadows is black-on-Black, the distinction visible only to the Wise.

Before the throne, an instrument materialises. Brass tubing, seemingly polished by someone who dipped their cloth in ink, twists and coils around itself, mysterious valves dotted along its length. Naturally, it starts to play itself, yet no sound emerges- rather, its plays in silence, the sharp absence of sound cutting through the other music, managing to mute out the entire orchestra for brief moments- but not to the detriment of the tune, no, it manages to complement the music it displaces.


Phalanalin turns to Lu, frowning.

"You always were a short-sighted fool, Lu. Of course Armiles has brought death and destruction in her wake. These mortals are not fit to bear witness to even our shadows. I made a mistake in sending Yras to treat with them, and I learnt from it. You have no excuse, you should have known what would come from your actions.
Do not seek to blame me for the death you have wrought. As for your offer, it is sorely tempting, but for the fact that I know that to bow down before might once invites it to strike again the next time it wants something. I will release your minion, but not simply in exchange for the withdrawal of your butcher. My terms are thus:
The withdrawal of not only Armiles, but also the Light she brought with her. And furthermore, your pet birds are to cease their illumination of the caves. The Acterians find salvation in the Darkness, and I would have you return it to them.
And you must swear to never again bring such destructive forces to bear against the Acterians, nor persuade others to do so in your name. Bind yourself to deploy only Lower forces in this conflict.
Furthermore, I refuse to admit defeat. We shall agree, before the forces of the universe, to call this matter a draw, with no side claiming victory- since the concessions I would extract from you render this less than a victory for your brutish ways.

If you agree, then let us retire to Cerediron's realm, where oaths cannot be broken, and cross hands."


Phalanalin considers Ralkieis' message. No need for haste, though. He made her wait first.

[Glass]

Acter's spot in the Miranrond was... unusual, to say the least.

Gone was the throne, and anything else placed there for sitting; there was now just a simple chair there. It had cushions, and could spin. Acter liked it.
Leaning on the desk, next to the chair, was a guitar. Acter would occasionally pick it up to play; he wasn't terribly good when he started, but he got better as time went on.

And scattered around in front of the crest were a myriad of tiles, each one with an image painted onto it. If you chose to line them all up, you could see the shifts in style, as Acter approached the desired design - there were many pictures of an Acterian, sometimes holding a tool, or a staff, or occasionally holding a light in one hand and an orb of darkness in the other; there were a handful that displayed an atom; several of them showed the Griffons, done like a coat of arms; not a one of them was on the crest. Acter's crest was, essentially, blank, as Acter forever attempted to create the quintessential image to represent himself with. After sufficient nagging from Cerediron, though, he put up a placeholder: a simple white crest, with the black outline of a circle inscribed within the black outline of a square.

Spoiler: The Placeholder Crest (click to show/hide)

[AbstractTraitorHero]

Varalin's spot in Miranrond...shifted quickly. It was for one thing......very..informal. Very personal. Soft velvet rugs adorning it. the throne now a plush looking love couch that could shift into a bed. Next to the love couch was...a looking glass? A telescope? A window of sorts being below her. Mysteriously allowing her to see the isles of passion and observe. With the combination, she could zoom in on anything. Finally. What was there was a comfy looking blanket. The crest itself. It...was pulsing. Shimmering and spinning outta its place hovering about the couch.

Spoiler: Crest of Passion. (click to show/hide)

 

Do the above

It was now. After completing that small task hovering in the void.
Watching the stars. Silently trying to relax to let them relax and smile and relax and sleep.
Eyes almost closing. That she startled awake. Sleep...would not come. She was pent up and it wasn't going to go away. Heading on over to Miranrond. She quietly sat down on her loveseat the plushness comforting and the blanket wrapping around her warm. As she looked upon the Isles and the acterians.

She realized why she couldn't sleep. Varalin almost seemed to Seize and the power they felt flowing through them. Through those blood sacrifices? It disgusted them. They felt disgusted with themselves their skin almost crawling as loathing and disgust creeped through her veins and she held her hand over her mouth in an attempt not to vomit.

"..I-In....my.....name?"

Horrified. Aghast. They wanted this filthy energy gained from this gone. This wasn't outta passion for her. Outta devotion for her. This was outta...o-outta nothing but savagery! THERE WAS NO PASSION TO THIS! There was no point to it! There was nothing to it. Done simply to appease her...and she didn't feel appeased.

Twitching and shaking they held the arms of their love seat hearing the crunching sounds. Satisfying in a way. Their voice was low. But they hoped Acter would be able to hear.

"..Plan...to get rid. Of. This.....type of worship..."

[NUKE9.13]

After some time, Phalanalin deigns to provide a reply to Ralkieis' squid-thing.

"You talk a lot, don't you? Well, I would not wish to offend by failing to reply. But I think we should wrap this up, lest the universe itself grow weary of our discussion.

Once again, I dispute your claim that mortals do not need divine guidance. You say they can survive without it. I could dispute this, but I see no need, considering I never claimed otherwise. Indeed, did I not specifically say that they could? My contention is that there is a difference between survival and living.
You raise an interesting, if semantic, point about the many possible interpretations of the potential of a being. Yet is it not by your own admission subjective, and thus prone to fall outside of your purview? To call me incorrect in my assessment of mortal potential on the basis that others disagree is surely to suggest that one subjective opinion is superior to another?

But semantics aside. You insultingly suggest that I seek to impose my values alone upon the mortals. Not so. It is the responsibility of every god to share their guidance with the mortals, and it is only through the accumulation of all that they can reach their full potential. I am not so vain as to believe that Wisdom alone will see mortals through. I can even admit that at times, the mortals must be Strong.

The meat of your argument, though, is that you believe that mortals are capable of... auto-generating divine guidance? That without intervention on our part, they will somehow manage to grow to greatness? That meaning, relevant or not, can spring forth from nothingness? You must forgive my incredulity. Observe the mortals populating the First. See how the Acterians have developed following divine intervention- perhaps a tad excessive, but do you see the correlation with their... excessive culture? See how the Phopu begin to blossom under the boughs of Lu's creations, where once they wandered aimlessly? See the Falaenites, left with minimal guidance, how they are without ambition, possessed of gifts they do not use? I will grant you that these are but three examples, yet I think the pattern is clear. It is only through the actions of the gods that these mortals have grown.

To your legitimate questions (I question their legitimacy): we are the gods. We do not need guidance, we are guidance. We do not lack meaning, for we create meaning. Our lives are not hollow, for our purpose is clear: to create mortals, and guide them.

Finally, for one who balks when I talk of the nature of truth, you are certainly quick to try to define wisdom. Tell you what. I'll let you worry about what Truth means, and you let me worry about what Wisdom means. And I say it is to subvert strength, to weather the storm, to outlast, outsmart, and outmanoeuvre those who would see you fail for perceived weakness."

[FallacyofUrist]

The Tutelospera noticed a new seat rise next to Cerediron's own in the Hall of the Gods, and rose to greet its new occupant. Non-humanoid and mechanical, much like itself.

"This, my new friend, is where the good intentions of the foolish lead."

"Better can be done, I think. I hope."

Gai-gen takes her seat next to Cerediron, and a cluster of seven gears in a hexagonal shape take shape as her crest.

[Glass]

"Better can be done, I think. I hope."

Acter...looks tired.
We're working on it.

Varalin, come over here. You don't need to be thinking of that right now. We can come up with a solution later.

[AbstractTraitorHero]

Varalin blinked slowly looking over at the new god from the couch she was on. Her eyes examining them as she bit her lip and slowly rose. Breathing deep. Blue eyes blinking and shimmering as they focused on Acter one keeping on the newbie. Their voice smooth slightly stuttered overall.

Unrelaxed clearly their neck tensed their hair shimmering and their leg twitching tapping the floor trying to focus to find something to do. What could they do? Did they have anything they could truly do right now? Either way. Varalin strutted over and plopped herself down on acters chair whether or not that would result on her being on his lap or not.

"...We..are working on it...I-I....am alright...f-for..now. Just im not quite sure what to do."

[crazyabe]

Yeg'Greth goes to the first world, and uses an act to create the Chichisy, a race race of lizard-like people who see in the Infrared spectrum of light, are physically addicted to causing and/or reciving pain, and are covered in bone "Armor", then it set them free upon it.

Spoiler: An image of what one looks like, to reduce total Discription length (click to show/hide)

And upon the back of the throne belonging to him, a Design of Circle surrounding three daggers forming a triangle appears.

[Roboson]

Dearest Phalanin, you ask too much. If I am interpreting you correctly, you are asking for a draw in your unwarranted imprisonment of an acterian leader, as well as for me to cripple myself in the pursuit of their worship. This is in exchange for the release of an unjustly imprisoned mortal. There is simply no moral or strategic value to accepting this offer. While I would regain this mortal, and free him from the mindbending prison you have stuffed him in, he is but a fleeting life. My attempt at being delicate with mortals who begin to wear my patience. Also you ask for the return of darkness to the caverns, on top of my self inflicted handicap. All in exchange for a mortal lost in every sense of the word.

Truly this is not a deal, but a farce. It is a joke to ask so much and offer so little. When you can offer me a compromise that is equally beneficial to both of us, I will listen. Until then, there is no need for your shams.
 

[AbstractTraitorHero]

A few moments passed with Veralin just sitting there laying back possibly on actors lap. Eyes fluttering as thoughts flittered through their mind.

Then. A spark. Flickering. Small. But growing growing like a flame. An idea coming on strong into her mind. As she felt it.

Inspiration. A Torch in her mind. A burning passion that is growing. She jumped up her "heart" thumping in her chest her eyes dilating energy pumping through them flickering in and out!

Varalin almost flew outta the room. Energy visible around them her aura like a flame consuming her and her visage as she floated over the Isles of passion with Vigor in her very being. Slamming her hands down and out she lights up like a star in the sky almost a sound of crackling fire and lightning pouring forth as a great force descended upon the world to change it for the better! Her voice booming from the heavens above! Strong powerful brimming with passion and Vigor!

"REND SUNDER THE CONNECTION BETWEEN MADNESS AND DARKNESS!"

Varalin sends forth a force of great power that propels itself harmlessly inside the home of the Acterians of the cult of darkness. Wall's of the earth crumble and raise shifting and changing to make it so that the cults of madness and darkness shall never meet one another in the dark of their homes ever again! Sealed off from each other forever until the day they both might leave for the surface! Her voice is audible through this but does not harm anyone. They hear what she says above, in fact, everything on the isle of passion hears her.

Hand moving away a shockwave booming in the void around her. She wasn't done yet. Not by a long shot! Energy gathering divine in origin strong and powerful from the worship she had received from how her mind body and soul utterly devoted itself to this emotion. This feeling of inspiration and passion! There was no Varalin. There was no Acter! There were no gods! No masters! Only this feeling and the Acterians below who would be altered! Her voice boomed out again! Stronger! LOUDER!

"I HAVE FAILED YOU! AS A MOTHER! AS A PROTECTOR! I AM DONE FAILING! I SHALL STAND BY NO LONGER! NEVER AGAIN! I AM THE MOTHER OF DARKNESS! I AM THE BROODMOTHER! I AM VARILIN GODDESS OF PASSION! YOU ARE MY CHILDREN AND I SHALL NOT FAIL YOU AGAIN! I GIVE MY BLESSING FOREVER MORE!"

Louder this time but still not harming to those below. Crystal clear everything she said. As a beautiful mix of shadow and colors descend upon the isles of passion filling the world with an aurora unlike any which any mortal could ever dream! Beautiful and moving people to tears as it floods the caves ((note it is not a liquid and can not drown people)) and to the acterians never have they had anything more beautiful and loving reach their senses offering them love and showing them veralins own remorse clear as day! From now on!

All acterians regardless of who they are. Regardless of creed. Religion or any other affiliation are blessed with Veralins gift! ((Yes this includes Kol Veralin will make sure he gets it as well)) The gift of true passion! Where an acterian may go into a state of true passion their body mind and soul enhanced to its limit for one goal they truly strive for! Forever more every acterian shall have this gift.

This state of passion will not leave the person insane after it is over. A warmth settles in the minds of the acterians forever more a true weakened obviously for mortal sanity version of her love shown and made known. Forever as long as they are alive they shall know someone obviously cares about them.

Finnaly. She was almost out of juice. Her last act her mind returning and with this, she releases her energy! Down onto the planet voice booming again love and affection overwhelming now.

"MY CHILDREN! YOU SACRIFICE TO ME! BUT I DO NOT WANT THAT!
 I DESIRE ONLY ONE THING! FOR YOU TO ACCEPT THE LOVE I HAVE FOR YOU INTO YOURSELVES AND LOVE ME AS WELL!
 TO KNOW AND UNDERSTAND THAT I TRULY WISH TO PROTECT AND SHELTER YOU! YOU ARE MY CHILDREN! I LOVE YOU AND I ALWAYS WILL!"

Tears streamed down veralin's face as she finished giving a choked sob of happiness that was audible for all to hear in the Isles.

The tear's of Veralin grow in strength now making rivers gentle and contained across the underground and landscape clean and fresh curing wounds and ailments and sometimes even curing loneliness by the genuine warmth that will fill one's body upon drinking it. The tears are now of joy. They are of love. And they are for all to enjoy and for her acterians to recover with and find joy. Real joy healing those they love and drinking and knowing that no matter who they are someone does care about them.

With that. As all of Varalins energy is spent she just floats there crying quietly of joy and smiling a large smile for her passion had lead her to the best of intentions this time. For it had led her to ideas she would not have thought of. It helped the beings she considered children and she felt her heart move with true jubilation.

[NUKE9.13]

"Of course the deal does not favour you, Lu. You have to learn that violence will not get you what you want. Like I said, if I bow down to your bullying now, when will it end? The concessions I ask are not only in exchange for the release of your mortal, but also a punishment for your unleashing of such great destruction upon the Acterians.
By all means, decline my offer. Indeed, don't bother making a counteroffer. But at least have the guts to do so before a congregation of all the gods, and explain to them why your violent actions are justified and proportionate. I am tired of being perceived as the villain."


Observing the goddess of Passion's outburst, Phalanalin is first amused, then frowns as they lay claim over the Darkness. As the hyperactive divinity finished her rant, Phalanalin approaches her.

"Point of order, sister. I created the Darkness. Whatever the mortals believe, it is my blanket that they cower beneath. I suggest you retract your statement to the contrary. I know a god who might have stern objections to such untruths."