Coming into the caves was a mistake. At first, he thought he could use the narrow caves to limit the number of thralls that the warrior god could send at a time. But now it was plain that his slaves had other ideas. Rather than facing him in battle, they had sealed the cave. And now? Slowly but steadily, Bulotha felt the air becoming gradually warmer and warmer. Scouts had come rushing back, telling of a tide of lava that was slowly, but steadily coming. Bulotha snorted, a good plan. He might have done the same, but he didn’t expect such a tactic from the battle loving slaves of Gheronaton.
Yet, before despair could truly grip the cultists, a window opened. Fresh and cool air flowed from it, and beyond lay a new world to flee too. The cultists wasted no time in fleeing the coming fiery death and into the vast caverns beyond. Bulotha waited until the last of them were through before heading through himself. He bowed his head low as Astra’ath spoke to him.
“As ever, I serve as best that I can, great one.” Bulotha said. “
Forgive me for failing to convert the followers of Gheronaton.”
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Luna was thankful for her friendship of Gheronaton, his latest gift to her was a godsend. The firstborn had the experience, the knowledge, and the skills in warfare that she and her creations lacked. They were quickly shaping the Elves, the Rhea, the Elysians and the Aether Dragons (plus even a few halflings) into a functioning, powerful army. It was becoming an army of the skies. Elves and Haflings rode upon the backs of the Rhea or the dragons, and trained to fire arrows or spears tipped with crystal down upon their targets. The Rhea and dragons could swoop down with their powerful talons and claws, and of course the dragons had their powerful breaths of frost.
Despite this progress, Luna was saddened that it would come to war. She knew that peace must sometimes be defended with war, but the loss of lives it promised grieved her. She left the forming army, and walked alone amid the forests, trying to quiet her troubled heart.
No relief did she find, only greater shock and horrors. She came upon a settlement of Aether elves, one that had been utterly destroyed. The elves small huts had been burnt, their statues tossed down and trampled, and worse of all, the dead elves. They had been killed in a myriad of gruesome, twisted ways, at the whims of a mad god, their bodies left on display like an art gallery.
Luna summoned the Rhea to ferry the souls of the elves to their rest. But she said little, and left again. This time to the darkest corners of night. It was not due to sorrow, for a new feeling was welling up. A cold, frigid fury was rising in her, darkening her gaze. She reached out, and grabbed the darkness of night itself. With her bare hands, she gripped it, and squeezed it. She shaped it into a sword for herself, it’s blade blacker than night, with burning points of starlight on it. It was long and thin like a rapier, coming to a point that could pierce even a god’s flesh. She filled it with her cold wrath, raw and unfettered. It was a weapon bearing the adamant judgment of order, and the destruction of chaos. It struck with the burning of light, and the deathly chill of darkness.
“I wanted nothing more than to make a peaceful world for my people,” Luna said, her voice quiet like a silent viper. “Yet calamity and unwarranted death has struck them time and time again. The plagues of Alex, the nightmares of Astra’ath, the nightgaunts invading their home, and now the massacres of Mania. Know this, you mad gods, my people will have peace, even if I must slay every single god who dares to threaten them! You who bring sorrow to my creations, let the goddess of night and dreams show you what nightmares truly are!”
Act 1: Forge a divine sword, Luna’s Wrath.
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Topic: Godhood I Play Thread (Read 75881 times)