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[HailFire]

"Indeed... Very well, Illiath; consider your task fulfilled."

The goddess took two steps back and seemed to explode into a cloud of black smoke, which quickly dissipated, leaving only the desolate landscape of the asteroid behind.

-----

The mad dwarf suddenly stopped it's crazed charge down the corridors of The Library as a stronger force asserted it's control, jerking it's legs from under it like a puppet on strings and sending it stumbling. Elzeru swore sulphurously as he and the stolen tome were thrown off, but sighed with relief when they landed on a sheet of ice that ran down the corridor, losing little of their former momentum. He turned and saluted up to the rafters where his fellow Fey hid; she winked back at him.

Ohhh yeah. Life was good.

Even better then he expected, in fact: his heart swelled with hope as the shadows coalesced ahead, and Satae emerged from them. He'd actually pulled this off!

"Ah, Mistress! I--"

She raised a quizzical eyebrow, and he noted with mild surprise that he seemed to be falling through the floor.

-----

Satae scuffed her foot across the tear on space, sealing it. Whatever her minions were up to, it was a matter for another time- now, she had business to attend to.

"Servant, summon your master. I desire to speak with him, of a matter he will find of great interest." She said, hailing a passing Librarian.

[dragnar]

The librarian bowed and then set off through the winding shelves to find Dragnar. Withing a few minutes, the master of the library appears.

"You wished to speak with me?"

[HailFire]

"Indeed. Tell me, brother; what do you know of the one known as Xarn?"

[dragnar]

"Xarn? The overgod? Disappointingly little, why?"

[HailFire]

Satae smiled wryly. "Oh, just existential curiosity.

So, if there's little you can tell me from all this," she gave a sweeping gesture to the near-infinite rows of bookshelves, "Do you perhaps know where or from whom I might learn more?

[dragnar]

"While these shelves do contain information on everything that has happened since the start of the universe, it is lacking in data about what came before... But apparently Natus apparently found a book here that told him something about Xarn... I don't know how that book got here, and he has said nothing beyond a promise to return it once he is finished with it, but he might be able to tell you more if you can convince him."

As the gods converse, Garthor returns to the library.

Master, I have asked many of the peoples of the universe, but it seems none know who killed Aerie. And the more I think about it, the more random the killing seems. Most of the gods had no motive to kill her, and those who did have their own reasons for not attacking.

"Another dead end... I had thought this would be simple to sort out... Anyway, Satae, please tell me if you can get anything out of Natus. He has been acting quite oddly"

[Caesar]

Dragnar destroys Thuthacar. - No acts, you used a powerful artifact to do this.

Aarrook ties his power to hope. - No acts
Aarrook creates Scavengers, space entities which gather divine energy in the universe for sustenance and to grant to Aarrook. They resemble giant fleas. - One act

Màquines makes a layer of water under the crust of Savoia, allowing for changes in the biome in some areas. - One act
Màquines creates the Zunra, horse-like reptiles that can survive in most any climate with food. - One act

Palad'in retrieved space stations and set them in place around The Nameless World. - One act
Palad'in trained some of the residents of the Nameless World in crewing the space stations orbiting it. - One act

Quôth opens a rift to an old reality to open the passage for a small flottilla of about thirty space ships, each about seven-hundred meters long, containing a crew of about two-thousand Korpr each. - Two acts

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Every single ship is about seven-hundred meters long, a mix between dead steel and living, decaying biomass, the ships almost look like bloated corpses of undefinable lifeforms.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

The crew of every ship consists of those who have survived Quôth's trial but did not have the luck of being immune to his artificial diseases. They all mutated in horrible ways, their shapes covered in decaying flesh, bubonic skin here and there breaking open to release undefinable liquids that where highly contagious, for some the body changed so fast that carrion insects were absorbed into the body never to be seen again. It seems like their body was infected with all kinds of horrible diseases imaginable and unimaginable.

But instead of begging for mercy and a quick death, those poor, wretched beings don't mind. They endure their horrible existence with stoic calmness and seem to be content with what has been done to them. Quôth has given them immunity to all diseases in exchange for the existence as living vessels for him. He had saved them from the ravages of time in exchange for their fertility. He gave them immunity to pain for their loyalty and most of all he gave them hope and a chance. Every single one of them came from a dying reality, born on a planet ravaged by the gods, left alone and forgotten. They are named the Korpr.

The Reaver, a thing made of shadow and of the soul of a crazed murderer, is born. - Two acts (I had trouble choosing between two or three acts for this one.)

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

It can travel in between worlds, using the shadows to teleport. It lives to cause death and inspire fear in sentient beings, but does not kill too many in one place, a single family at the most. It cannot be seen by divine eyes, and for all purposes, cannot be killed by mortal means. It draws power from the fear it inspires, and disposes of its victims by impaling their eviscerated corpses on trees, or leaving them in the forest.

Dragnar repairs Thuthacar. - One act

A group of Dwarfs travel to the underworld of the Nameless World.

Eliria, an enlighted (student of the Scholars) Aether elf, prays to Luna after having been attacked by the Reaver.

The Reaver has slaughtered a family of farmers in a remote village. It has tried to kill one of the Scholar's students, but failed. Eliria warns her village of the thing, and sets up some wards, hopefully enough to protect the elves from further attack. Their paranoia and fear feeds the Reaver.

Rourke has woken up, and wanders through the Refuge. His memories on his part in fighting BLACKWATCH are lost, either to direct tampering or a necessary side effect of his rebirth.

Coradin creates the Instrument of War, a powerful warship, and locks the Stone inside. - Two acts

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Perfect, white covering, slightly curved surfaces, transparent observatories hanging from the sides and dozens of tiny, incredibly sharp wings.
A single golden blade-like symbol covering the bottom, guarded by armour plating painted in a deep red. Deadly weapon systems hidden inside the hull, surrounding a wall of boarding shuttles.
What would have been thousands of little weakpoints in mortal hands were nothing to Coradin. Divine energies fell into place where the armour was the weakest.
In the center of it all was the Stone, acting as an emergency power supply if the ship core itself somehow failed.

Poena arrives on Aether.

The Reaver flees Aether, but not before it kills one dragon, and wounds another.

Rourke finds the main chamber of the Refuge, and sits there.

Rourke and the Protector of the Refuge hold a conversation.

Rourke consumes Ambrosia.

The symbol of Mania was born.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

The symbol of Mania is a triangle with circles at each point in the dust. The symbol seems to twist, and inexplicably makes anyone who looks at it want to giggle. It symbolizes the good side of chaos, the light provided by fire, and the freedom inherent in anarchy.

Dragnar creates Garthor, a demigod with powerful psychic abilities. - One act

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

It stands roughly five feet tall, with a very simple body. Two arms, two legs, a head with the usual facial features, but the entire body is smooth and silvery, looking almost as if it were merely a metal cast of a creature. Inside it is even simpler, a central core contains the mind and a magical organ that keeps it alive by drawing power from the ether itself, the rest of the body merely a shell used to move about. The one notable feature is more subtle: it's mind is superior to anything created yet, except perhaps the scholars. Psychic powers subconsciously move the shell-body and allow speech, as well as giving it the ability to use illusions to disguise itself if necessary and to sense lies or partial truths from other intelligent creatures. More invasive mental attacks are possible, but draining, and only used as a last resort.

Dragnar gives Garthor his artifact.

Some Ferals discover the magical substance known colloquially as Death's Brew, a byproduct of the Reaver consuming the fear of many.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

When ingested, one is unaffected by pain, even to the point of death. The warriors who ingest it are a potent psychological weapon on the fields of war, as they do not fear anything, although Death's Brew is highly addictive and slowly kills the user by eventually killing the nervous system and rendering the user insane. If injected into the bloodstream, it is fatal, and is also used as a poison.

Xarn appears to Rourke, establishing psychic contact with him.

Astra'ath bolsters Entropy's construction, allowing it and its crew to achieve heights far beyond even their extraordinary levels. The ship itself becomes an artifact and a symbol. - One act

Xarn binds Rourke's lungs to breathe from the essence itself.
Xarn gives Rourke the ability to resist void-bite.

Galt telepathically regains control of their Bugs, and commands them to hunt down and kill Astra'ath's cultists. - One act

Astra'ath kills all insects everywhere. - Three acts

Gheronaton musters all his soldiers in the refugium. - No acts

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

All his chosen are given exquisite armor and weapons, and all dragons living in the Refugium, too. Then messengers are sent to gather all the giants and all the ferals and all creatures of Incendium willing to fight. Gheronaton decrees that fighting amongst themselves is allowed, but some discipline is to be maintained. They are told that they will soon see more blood than they could hope for. They shall be armored and armed as well. Then messengers are sent to the dwarves and the elves and those who want to fight are armed as well and brought to the Refugium.

Galt physically attacks Astra'ath's armada. - No acts
The Entropy opens fire on Galt.
Galt catches the Entropy's fire and uses it as a defensive weapon, then knocking Sothurn off the Entropy and into deep space. - One act

Gheronaton orders to store as much of the Death Brew as possible and orders that the addicted are organized in berserker squads. - No acts

Chara starts to move towards the nameless world

Galt turns the souls of the Starspawn from the cruiser it destroyed into a Soul Golem, and sets it upon the Fleet to cover their escape. - One act
Galt goes to the Refuge, and regroups itself. - No acts
The Entropy and its fleet suffer light damage.

Astra'ath rallies the Nightgaunts to join its fleet. - No acts

Coradin readies the Instrument of War. - No acts

Frandor splits the Nameless World in half. - Two acts

Gheronaton orders the Ironborn to build several ships. - No acts
Gheronaton's Chosen get protective implants and an updated armor.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

The Chosen have been modified with protective layers of iron around vital organs- The heart, the lungs, the brain and on several other places.

Gheronaton's Berserkers are equipped in the same matter as the Chosen.

Mania lets the Insane begin to gear for war, taking whatever weapon suits them. - One act
Mania removes the aggression of Geronoton's Berserkers to those aligned against Astra'Ath. - One act

Quôths flottilla scavenges the remains from the Battle between Astra'ath and Galt.

Luna creates the ritual ‘Mark of Luna. Anyone inscribing the symbol of a crystalline moon and star on the ground can make a portal to Aether. - One act

Luna creates the crystal hall, where any arriving via the ‘Mark of Luna’ would arrive. If they used the Mark of Luna to come to Aether to bring harm to it, they would be sent back by the power in the hall. - One act

Most of the Universe's mad enter Dragnar's Library.

Palad'in creates stone insects and seeds his world with them. They obey his every command. - One act
Palad'in commands his insects to replace the dead insects in the ecosystem. - One act

Galt brings most of the soulasteroids back to the Refuge, and waits. - One act

The Chained God attacks several frigates, destroying them and continues a barrage of fire onto the other ships. The Reaver dances across the void, attacking ships here and there. - One act

Chara forces apart the two halves of the Nameless world.
Chara attacks Astra'ath.
Chara turns temporarily invisible to mortal eyes.

Dragnar creates a wing for the mad in his library. - No acts (The Library is huge. One more wing won't really have to cost you a lot. It does not take space, and it expands to hold knowledge by itself anyways.)

Aarrook calls out to the souls of the dead insects to gather around him outside the Well of Souls. - One act

Frandor reforms Chara's shell - One act

The mad begin to write fiction books in Dragnars Library, to fill the Wing of the Mad with them.

Xarn mimics both Chara and Frandor, telling them both to retreat.

Illiath seeks out Satae.

Natus searches the void and pulls back the souls of the deceased insects from the Well of Souls back to Natus. Though many souls seem out of reach to him, the vast majority are saved. - One act

Galt reduces the appetites of the revived Bugs on Natus. - One act

Gheronaton creates many Ironborn. - Two acts

Gheronaton lets his Ironborn construct 'asteroid ships'. - No acts

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

The Asteroid ships look eerily like asteroids. They have a simple AI that will detect and attack any unknown ship. They are armed with just a single plasma cannon and one machine gun.

Gheronaton sends his asteroid ships to the many asteroid belts. - No acts

Astra'ath saves most remaining life on the Nameless World, letting it live on inside itself. - No act
Astra'ath consumes all bio-matter, both the remaining living beings, the dead, and plantlife, along with part of the debris of the Nameless World. - No acts
Astra'ath creates the Eye of Terror. - Three acts

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

The eye of Terror is a black hole at the core of the Nameless World, drawing power from its entropic essence. The area around the Nameless World resembles a great eye in space, a new light in the heavens of all populated worlds. Those born under its baleful gaze excel at dark sorcery and are drawn to the forbidden arts. Its surging currents of gravity and time distortion could be used as a weapon against those who draw too near.

Many asteroids shift orbit to the Eye of Terror.

There now live elves, humans, mermaids, orcs and dwarves on Aether.

Dragnar creates an opening for mania to escape the stone of madness through. - One act

Mania creates the Fork of Inspiration, a magical tuning fork that allows mortals to enter a great age of discovery when they play it. - Three acts
Mania creates the Napkin of Secrecy, a paper napkin that, when pressed against the nose and mouth, allows the wearer to move unseen by even gods. - Three acts

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Even though allowing the wearer to move unseen by even Gods, there are great drawbacks to the Napkin when used.

Mania travels to an empty part of the universe.

Garthor travels to Aether to talk to Luna.

Rourke arrives on Aether.

Rourke joins Poena, her brother and Phaedron.

Xarn grants Rourke a crate filled with modern weaponry. There are labels nor symbols on the items.

A scholar temporarily manages to blast open the Otherwordly Gate.

The eye of Terror starts moving to the Gate of Chains.
Astra'aths fleet starts moving to the Gate of Chains.

Quôth consumes the corpses of Galt's bugs - No acts

Chara consumes the bodies of the bugs it still has to fuel itself.

Part of the Demons from the Coin of Good and Evil charge the Fortress to Dragnar's library that had been built there.

Xarn contacts Astra'ath.

Mania plays a game of cards with the twins of the Room of the Forgotten. It cheats. - No acts

Tarn creates Char. - One act

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

It is hot and largely inhospitable. Some parts of this small planet are covered in vegetation.

Tarn creates basic eco-systems on Char. - One act

Garthor returns to Dragnar's Library.


Not as much effect as he hoped for, but useful nonetheless. Of all Gods, Xarn knew best that nothing ever went to plan. Plans were but an excuse, an excuse to waste time, better spent acting. Those few plans Xarn ever made, were plans that had minor input, short time of execution, and a useful effect- Hence the killing of Aerie.

Around Xarn's lips a smile played. Even the God of knowledge had a lot to learn. His lesson was simple: Neutrality does not exist. Neutrality kills the neutral in a blast of crossfire..


<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>


With the gate shattered, the surrounding space seemed to freeze in time.
It was for only a while that this state lasted, but then it reversed: With a power greater than that of the strongest God, the Gate of Chains, opened to the essence itself, sucked in and absorbed the scholar that had opened it. The gate itself screamed and cried, slowly imploding.

With a loud thud and a crack, carried through space on the waves of the energies that made up the universe, the Gate, and the gap that it had hold, were crushed under their own increased gravity. A visible tear appeared, seeming to break down the universe as it both absorbed and emitted light and shifted constantly, which sealed the moment after.

The universe howled. Gods were born.


<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>


Illiath spread his wings, a sinister shriek filling the void around him as he propels himself back into space. He had no destination; his instinct would guide him..


<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>


Rourke's intestines burned, sending distress signs throughout his mortal frame. The sensation spread quickly, writhing it's way into his mind like a maggot would writhe into carrion. Just before the pain would paralyze him, it stopped.

A strange feeling crawled through his veins, a vague pain still living on in his insides.


<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>


Amidst burning mountains and flaming oceans armies assembled. From the tallest of Giants to the smallest of Ferals, many answered the call of their lord and liege. Incendium's inhabitants gathered in front of the Refugium. The raised their weapons above themselves.

For Blood, for battle, for glory!

Echoing through the mountains their cry traveled far and wide..


<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>


Roaring, he clawed at the spear that had impaled him. The demon attempted to push its guts back into itself, its tongue hanging from his lips, his eyes rolling. With a shudder, life left it. It seized up, the eyes emptily staring. The weapon pulled back, the corpse dropping on the floor.

A second group approached..


<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>


An asteroid changed course, dangerously so. A gentle chance in its orbital path, caused by gravitational pull of the Eye of Terror, flung it at Natus..


<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>


Cries of battle filled the great hallways of the trapped fortress. Furiously the magical defenders of the structure were slain, torn apart by claws, bashed and mangled by their clubs. The fights did not cost the demonic creatures much of their strength. No, the traps did that.
Many were impaled or eviscerated, beheaded or crippled. Then, they would stumble upon a riddle: To them unsolvable, impossible, forcing them to turn back to face the traps once again..


<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>


All shifters on Natus raised their hands to the sky, singing. Their voices relayed an ancient tongue, unknown to all but the oldest of Gods. No word discernible, no sentence clear, it ended abruptly.
The last word remained silently in the air: Xarn


<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>


With an enthusiastic giggle they put the book on the shelf. It was done! She was sure it was a work well done, a great story. He agreed. With their shared grin they attempted to find a name, but malfunctioning minds groaning in one head. The Voidbringer! They smiled. That would be a good name.


<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>-<>


Xarn's interest was divided. He was brooding: There were many events of interest, many situations, many idiosyncrasies that called out his name. He saw the Eye of Terror, heading slowly for the collapsed Gate of Chains. He saw the damaged planets and the tortured peoples. Most of all, he saw threats. Threats to himself, threats to the universe, threats ranging from minor to great.

He had to choose priorities..


The open Gate of Chains reveals a hole into the essence itself.
The corrupted scholar is destroyed by being sucked into the hole.
The Gate of Chains collapses into itself into a great tear through the universe.
Malian, Buathal and Destiny are born.
The tear through the universe closes.

Illiath leaves Satae's Throne.

Rourke is affected by the ambrosia.

Almost all of the capable fighters on Incendium come together at the Refugium.

The demons assaulting the fortress to Dragnar's library suffer great losses.

One of the asteroids which had their orbit changed is instead flung at planet Natus.

The shifters sing an ancient song.

A madman with multiple-personality disorder writes 'The Voidbringer'.

Code: [Select]

Acts:
Anacraeon: 10 (One last chance.)
Satae: 9
"The Chained God": 7
Astra'ath: 6
Dragnar: 4
Natus: 4
Gheronaton: 4
Luna: 3
Mania: 3
Galt: 3
Palad'in: 2
Aarrook: 2
Coradin: 2
Màquines: 2
Tarn: 2
Quôth: 1
Frandor: 1
Malian: 1
Destiny: 1
Buathal: 1

You know how it works; PM me or post in the OOC Thread if you've got any comments/think I forgot something/similar things.

[Karnewarrior]

  Mania reached his destination, a rather empty point in the Void. He smiled, and so did his new Demigods, albeit nervously. With a flourish, he created a new sun, a average yellow star with bands of green and blue twisting on it's surface. It had no godly powers, but the majority of mortals that looked at it said that it was a beautiful display of colors.
  Second, Mania created a system of planets.
   One, called Anger, was colored red and orange, too close to the sun for any life to subsist there. It had a thin atmosphere of Carbon Dioxide, heating the planet enough to melt rock.
   The next planet out was also very hot, though not as hot as Anger. This was called Love. It was possible for life to sustain itself there, with much terraforming, but the planet was still far too close to the sun to make it's own life.
   The third planet was just the right distance from the sun to support life, and so it did. Wild herds of Ilk and Cabinia roamed great plains of tall grasses. Tall, thin creatures named Aloa sped through the forests, using their nimble hands to grip branches and propell themselves through the forest. The forests themselves were a mix of purple and white mushrooms. But the night on this planet was sinister, with far more deadly creature emerging to hunt. The trees themselves shrunk into stumps, causing entire forests to disappear during the dusk. The Algeia is one such creature, a great cat with tentacles extending from it's body. It weaves through the trunks of the night-forests, hunting the smartest prey it can find, for the Algeia feeds upon the brains of it's victims, and leaves the rest of the body there for the scavengers. This planet is called Epiphany.
   The fourth planet was a gas giant, with frosty moons and a roiling surface of methane and Argon. The moons themselves flip positions, pulled by the gravity of their fellows. There is no discernable power keeping them there but chance. The moons are liable to fly away from the gas giant at any point, though they will not, and never will without divine intervention. The fact of the matter is that Mania set up a millenias-long cycle, and the only ones who live long enough to record this happening are gods themselves. This planet is called Greed.
  The two demigods looked at eachother and nodded. They flew to different sides of the planet, with the girl taking the light side, and the robed man taking the dark side. They link themselves to the planet. If either of them ever dies, the side of the planet they took also dies, as does their twin. The demigods draw their power from the animals and plants of their side, making them marginally more powerful. They will grow as the sentient population of Epiphany does.

Mania smiled, and collapsed, out of energy. He falls to Epiphany, landing in a crater that the later population will call the Madgods Crown.

[Iituem]

As the rift where the Gate of Chains had been collapsed, the raw Essence surrounding the universe cried out and twisted into the shape of two new gods, destined to carry out great and terrible works.  As these deities departed, scattered remnants of Essence remained around the gate.  Not enough to create a full, true god, but perhaps enough to strengthen one existing.  Or perhaps enough to power something less than a god.  Perhaps enough to give life to something more ephemeral, like a complex thought.


---


In Dragnar's Library, one of the Librarians picked up the Fork of Inspiration, so recently brought back by its master.  It took the Fork to a shelf and, scribing a small note on a scrap of the 'paper' that the creatures in the Asylum Wind had devised, recorded its name and position according to the latest cataloguing system.  As it reached up to store it in the shelf, it was surprised by a passing madman, singing a raucous song about the joys of cod liver oil.  In an uncharacteristic moment of surprise, the spirit dropped the Fork onto the ground.

The Fork rang out in a unique sound - True C.

A moment later, the ringing stopped and the Librarian picked up the Fork, dusted it off and placed it in the shelf.  Then it went back to filing.


---


The note rang out across the universe, too weak and too soft to be heard by any but divine ears.  It escaped through the hallways of the portal fortresses, caressed the maddened and wrathful ears of the demons, sang out over the forests and plains of Natus and Aether and the burning lakes of Incendium, and everyone who heard it felt inspired, if only for that moment.  It passed through all of these worlds and then it passed into space.  And there it would have stopped, but for the Armada.

The note rang out from Incendium and at the highest edge of the atmosphere, where only the faintest, thinnest shreds of atmosphere remained, a derelict ship passed into low orbit on its circuitous journey between the stars.  And by chance that ship held a crystal core of such design that it could store the frequency of any resonance that passed its way.  The note passed into the crystal and was trapped within.

The ship continued its slow journey around the universe, dragged by the tides of gravity from planet to planet, star to star, until at last it swung close to the madness of the Eye of Terror.  It swung around and around the terrifying world until at last it was flung out into space, cast toward the sealed tear where the Gate of Chains had once existed.  And there, damaged and ruined by its journey, the ship broke into pieces and the crystal cracked.

The note rang out into the fragmented Essence at the gate, and gave it purpose.

Its purpose would be to Inspire.


Destiny comes into existence as a sort of quasi-divine thought.

[Iituem]

It was hard for Nemani to remember a time when he had not followed Gheronaton.  He could, of course, but there was precious little of that time he wished to remember.  A life of stagnation, trapped within cold stone walls, lit only by an unceasing candle at an altar.  His parents spoke of a world beyond, of mythical things called trees.  Supplies were limited beyond the endless platters of nuts, leaves and berries that the altar seemed to produce, and so pictures of trees had to be drawn from food remnants.  All that an elf had needed to do was perform an odd act called 'prayer', calling out to an elf that nobody had even seen, an elf called Alex.  Nemani doubted now that "Alex" had ever existed, that he was a myth or story invented by the older elves to explain their mysterious source of food.  Besides, prayer had since taken a different meaning for him.

He remembered clear as the crystal beneath his feet the day when that life had come to an end.  The cold, dark stone had been cleaved in twain, rent asunder by blades larger than any elf, larger than many of the trees he would soon come to see.  Wielding them had stood the great, many-armed form of Gheronaton, bathed in sunlight that he had never before seen.  Gheronaton had told them that he had been a brother to the one who had created them.  (Had that been the mysterious "Alex"?  Nemani would never know for sure.)  The god had offered them freedom and refuge and they had accepted.  Then the skies changed, plunged into darkness as deep as the stone altars had owned, lit only by distant, swiftly moving pricks of light.  Then light returned and the skies became blue again, save for two dusky red orbs, hanging in the sky - one much larger than the next.

Years later Nemani would learn that those orbs were worlds of their own, and he would visit them.  He had stayed with some of his people on their world, making a home beside the altar where they had once been entombed and foraging the thick forests around.  The endless supplies of food from the altar remained a great help, but their long imprisonment had caused many to turn away from it in disgust.  Nemani had been one such elf - he had sought meaning in Gheronaton.  When his people at last made the journey to the crystal world upon which he now stood, Nemani had learned that the archways led to other worlds still, one of which was the home of Gheronaton.

He never saw the god again, not as close as he had the day he had been freed, but Nemani had journeyed the world of Incendium, and the world that had no name.  He had fought in battles alongside Ferals and Men and Dwarves and even the strange elves of the Nameless World, so dedicated to the protection of their homes from the fire and axes of Men.  Once had had even seen an Ironborn upon Incendium, a towering man of burnished metal and wrath.  It had slain with ease the ten Ferals who had tried to ambush it, and on that day Nemani had learned to pick his battles more wisely.

Yet as good as Nemani had been, all fighters must eventually lose if they keep on fighting.  He fell foul of a band of maddened Jesters  on the Nameless World, his legs broken by the furious beating of their lutes as he tried to slay them to stay alive.  He killed three of them and escaped by a sort of luck - falling through a crevice to a river below.  His left arm was broken by the fall, and his right by a nesting swan.  In time, and aided by the healing magic of the elves of Aether, his bones knit and he regained the use of his limbs, but he would never again be as strong a fighter.  Furthermore, the experience had shaken his faith in Gheronaton and he felt unable to continue risking his life in His name.

Nemani chose to retire to the world of Aether, making something of a living as a hunter.  He was drawn to the tribe of a man named Curio and lived with them for a time until boredom and frustration drove him away.  Additionally, something about Curio had just unnerved him - the elf had not seemed right, somehow.  It was in Curio's tribe that he learned something of agriculture, however, and that would put him in good stead for trials to come, trials of a far different sort than the fights he had been used to.

Nemani stood on the bare crystal, clenching his toes so he could feel the cool, smooth surface.  Why were some parts of Aether bare and crystalline, while others were thick with earth and soil?  He supposed that Luna would know.  He had learned of gods from the elves here, though he had never seen any beside Gheronaton.  Were there really gods?  He had been asked that by others, about Gheronaton.  He had told them what he tried to tell himself; it matters not whether you see them, they are there.  What matters is that you have faith - they will protect their own, and give strength to those who serve them.

Nemani's bones creaked.  Where was that strength now?  He summoned what little of it he could and ambled down to the human settlement below.  Men had come from the Nameless World, bringing terrible stories of its destruction; cracks that rent the earth, as far as the eye could see; the seas and land boiling alike.  Dwarves and the strange forest elves had come also, as had the ugly, brutish orcs.  Yet it was the humans that interested Nemani, for their taming of the land.  As Curio's tribe had done, they tamed the land for their own, grew crops and kept creatures brought with them from their world for food.  Nemani had acquired something of a taste for meat during his time on Incendium - dinosaurs were easier to catch than the rare pockets of edible plants on that world.  Perhaps here he could finally get some.

The thought of Incendium brought all his worries back.  How many battles had he fought?  For how long had he struggled, had he preached in Gheronaton's name the glory of war?  And what had it earned him?  A bad back and broken bones.  There were tithes, he supposed, but those all went to burning offerings in Gheronaton's name.  No, it was not worth it.

And like that, Nemani's faith broke.  He felt the certainty in his life drain away, what little of it had remained, and sank to his knees and wept.

"Why?" he cried out to the heavens.  "Why create us, if only to fail?  If only to suffer?  Does it please you to see us toil?  To watch us die?  Should an elf fight all his life to be forgotten by the one he fought for?

What do I want?

Somewhere, at the faint edge of his hearing, a note rang.

"I had meaning!" Nemani yelled, shaking his fist at the constellation above him.  The stars shook a Fist back.  "I had purpose, and a reason to live!  I want that back!  I want a... a... a destiny!"

And what would I give?

"What do you want of me, o gods?  Do you want my blood?  You've taken so much of it!  My sweat, my tears, my breath, years of my life!  I've given it to you, and I'd give it all again to know, to know that I will not pass forgotten into the night!  To know that I will be remembered!"  His gaze turned to Maia, shining brightly above, and he thought of the Elysian.  "I'd even give my soul," he whispered, and folded over in tears.

Nemani cried, and as he cried the note grew stronger and stronger, and a strange sensation filled his body and mind, as if replacing something that had been there before, something he had never even felt he had.  And when his crying ceased, the note grew silent and he knew that he had both lost and gained.

Nemani picked himself up, wiped his eyes, and stumbled down toward the human settlement.



Nemani, an Aether Elf, is chosen as a Pawn of Destiny.
Nemani's soul becomes Destiny's.  It can be claimed by no other.

[bulborbish]

When the rift had opened, Buathal Came to Be.

When he opened his eyes for the first time, he saw a tear in the universe, and knew what it had to be. An abberation, a danger to reality. Nothing would come from this but death and distruction.

He had to act. To maintain the order of things, this rift had to be closed soon.

He gazed about, and saw the Eye of Terror. He was revolted by it. This was the deathbringer. At it's core, all matter and purpose broke down into nothingness. It had to be discarded, lest the world fade. But what god would create such a monstrosity. Things had to be settled, before all was lost to the world.

He turned to see the worlds of the gods, and saw the life that flourished on it. He scoffed at them, beings who were weak without the gods to protect them. Within there souls bore the ability to use magic. Magic, another abberation that plagued the world. Too chaotic to guarentee aid, to unlimited to contain it's powers. Life was an oddity to him, and he sought to see life arise without the aid of a god.

He finally glanced around himself to see the raw essence that poured out of the rift. The basis of creation, and the tool of destruction. It had a possibility of great good and evil.

Buathal knew little of this world's curiosities, and progress had to be made before his experiments could begin.

Buathal Uses leftover essence that spewed out of the rift to seal said rift. Any leftover essence he claims for himself

With progress being made, he fled from the Eye of Terror so that he could begin his experiments in this realm.

[Iituem]

Months passed.  Nemani established something of a presence in the settlement, even going so far as to construct a small shrine to Gheronaton, mostly to serve as a shelter and a place to peddle his wares - training and religion.  Truthfully, the training was where he was earning his keep, as the orcs and forest elves were often inclined to give trouble to human settlers.  Still, he called his fees a 'tithe', and educated those who came to his shrine in both the forms and philosophy of combat.  The words felt empty to him, but the humans seemed to take comfort in the idea that Gheronaton was somehow watching out for them.

Nemani took his fee in food and clothes sewn from hide and sinew, and eventually he purchased his first animal from the herds kept by the humans, a bizarre long-haired creature they called a 'sheep', bred for meat and milk and its long hair which could be braided into rough shawls.  In time he came to own a large flock of sheep, bought largely with donations from his followers.  Like the humans, he let his sheep graze wherever there was grass.  Unlike some of the humans, he came to realise that if everybody kept doing that, the grass died away and left only mud.  Someone should probably do something about that.  A soft note rang at the edge of his hearing when he thought about such things, but he ignored it.

One day a man came to the shrine, a farmer from the next valley.  He spoke of the trials he had suffered; his home burned and flocks slain and devoured by orcish raiders.  He begged mercy and succour from the temple.  Nemani told him that Gheronaton did not help those who would not help themselves - his temple would give no handouts.  The man begged mercy.

Nemani very nearly turned him from the shrine, but then he stopped himself.  Why? he asked.  Why do it that way?  Why not try something different?  In the back of his mind, a note began to hum.

"A loan," he said.

"Begging your pardon, holy master, what is a loan?" the farmer asked.

"I don't know," Nemani said to himself, and then the answer came.  He addressed the farmer.  "I will give you some of my sheep for a time, and then you will give them back."

"That's... very generous of you," said the farmer with relief and a touch of puzzlement.  "But that means I can only use them for wool and milk."

"It is neither generous, nor the whole deal.  The lambing season is coming," Nemani recalled.  Aether did not have seasons in the way that other worlds did, but life in general followed certain cycles, and breeding was one of them.  "I have an interest in those sheep, you could say, for they keep the temple in food and clothing, and sacrifices to Gheronaton.  Time that I do not have them, that you have them, is time that must be repaid."

"Ah, time, holy master?" asked the farmer.  He found himself growing less sure of this deal as it went on.

"Time has value," explained Nemani, and he wasn't entirely sure where he was getting this from.  "Every moment spent doing one thing is a moment spent not doing another, and in this case a season where my sheep produce wool and milk for you is a season where they do not produce it for me.  Since this is not a gift, I would want payment for that wool and milk."

"But, ah, you won't be milking and shearing them, your holiness," the farmer pointed out.  "I'll be doing the work."

"And yet the sheep remain mine," Nemani mused.  "Therefore I should not be entitled to the full share of the wool and milk as you have done the work.  Let us say, then, that you will tithe to me - I mean to the temple - a fifth of all the wool and milk that comes from these creatures in respect of Gheronaton's interest in His sheep."

"That seems... fair..." said the farmer, who admittedly could still see himself coming out on top of this deal - though it was nowhere near as good as getting the sheep for free.

"And as I said, the lambing season comes," Nemani continued.  "You will care for the sheep, and so you must be entitled to their offspring, but the temple owns the sheep, and so too therefore must Gheronaton.  Tell me, in a season how many lambs will survive their first days?  Three in five?"

"Usually, but there's good seasons and bad-"

"Then let the rule of one in five apply there also."

"One in five of the lambs that get born go to you?" the farmer asked.

"One fifth of the number of sheep I lend to you," Nemani explained.

"That's not fair!" the farmer cried.  "I'm the one at risk if the lambs die out in a season!"

"But it is fair, my friend, as the temple too is at risk," said Nemani smoothly.  "Let us not forget that you own no sheep - the temple owns the sheep you are lent.  But consider this a different way - if three sheep of five are born every season and one returns to the temple, that is two sheep that you may keep for yourself.  And those sheep will be yours and no-one else's."

"What happens if all the lambs die?" the farmer asked.

"Then you will give to the temple of your own sheep in settlement of our interest, or else raise the full size of your debt by that which is owed - and our interest in that debt will be a fifth of that number instead.  But consider - if you are blessed with good fortune you may repay some of that debt early, and so buy yourself out of further interest in the future."

"I suppose that makes sense," said the farmer.  "One last question, then.  What's to stop me from just taking the sheep and never giving you any of that 'interest' you have in it back?"

"Probably the fact that this is a temple of Gheronaton, and people who don't keep their word don't keep their tongue either," Nemani said flatly.  "Or have you forgotten how I earn His tithes?"  Nemani tapped the almost-certainly ceremonial short spear at his belt.  The farmer swallowed.

"I, uh, guess we'll be getting on this with 'lend' you spoke of," said the farmer with mock cheer.

"Loan," said Nemani off-handedly.  "And yes, let us get to lending it to you.  The temple can spare ten sheep from its flock.  That should be more than enough for your needs, friend, at least to get you started.  You will swear on Gheronaton's name to repay a fifth of all you gain from these creatures, not to slay any of them except to preserve the others, and to provide a fifth of the total lent every breeding season in tithe to Gheronaton's interest in the flock.  That would be two lambs a season.  Agreed?"

"Agreed," said the farmer hurriedly.  The quicker he could get away from this priest, the better.  Still, at least the prospect of working his way back to having sheep of his own appealed.

"Excellent," said Nemani.  "Let me show you the flock.  Oh, and don't forget - I know where you live."


Nemani invents Usury.  [divine]

[Acanthus117]

Rourke's head began to spin, and the world seemed to bleed into one phantasmagoria of color and sound. The dark colors of the twilit forests clashed with harsh pinks and reds of his hallucinations, colors spawned by from the recesses of his mind. Shapes and sounds, from memories he knew and from memories he didn't, stimulated the man's befuddled senses, confusing him even more.

The Marine had experimented with... questionable substances when he was younger, and the experience reminded him of it. Of course, there were no pink elephants, and no one was playing the Beatles.

For a moment, a flash of light blinded the Marine, and his body seemed to float above the hazy tree line. He slowly turned his head up, and saw a sky, full of stars. The man gasped at the sheer beauty of it, and grinned.

Whoo-hoo, man, this is like the fuckin' best shit I've had since... ah... I dunno. I think it's almost better than the time I put some of that crack in the Sergeant's coffee, haha man that was fun hey you know what else is fun Dwarf Fortress is fun its this game I used to play the dude who made it is a real cool dude

The man did not consciously project his thoughts to the world, but in his state, anything was bound to happen. The food he had ingested, the food for the gods, had never been meant for mortal stomachs. The man would have been consumed by it long ago, if he had been truly a man. BLACKLIGHT's legendary resilience had saved the man, but only just. His mind was dangerously close to breaking, and his body was undergoing... changes.

Rourke's high was immediately interrupted as he slammed back to earth. Edward knew that something was wrong when he hit not soft grass, but a cool flat surface.

"Jesus Christ, this is weird." The soldier sat up, scratching his head. This time, there was nothing but white, white and more white. Aside from the floor-like surface he sat on, there was nothing. No sound, no smells, nothing.

"So you're here too? Welcome." Rourke jumped as he heard a woman's voice directly behind him. He swerved around, and saw a woman, not much younger than him, standing there, her hands on her hips. She was garbed in simple clothes, a pair of denim jeans and a black t-shirt proclaiming "Cthulhu '09", with a cartoony image of the cosmic entity wearing a three-piece suit, preaching to a crowd. She wore her hair in a ponytail, and her bright green eyes were alight with amusement.

"What the hell? Where am I?"

The woman crossed her arms, and smiled. "You're in a... storage facility of sorts. Something must have happened to you, like maybe you nearly died, but He still needs you, so you end up here." Her voice was matter-of-fact, as if the Marine was supposed to know that he was going to end up in the literal middle of nowhere, and nothing, at any random moment.

"Wait, who needs me?"

"Ah, I see. This... thing, I dunno what It, or He, is called, needs us."

"What for?"

"Hell if I know. Let's hope you get lucky and He calls you back to wherever the hell you came from soon. Well, might as well come with me, then." She faced away from Rourke, and began to walk. After she noticed that the man did not follow, she turned again.

"Come on, you wanna get out of here or not?" She raised an eyebrow at Rourke.

"Uh... sure." The woman sighed, and continued to walk. Rourke followed her, the sounds of their footsteps the only things in this empty void.

After what could have been an hour or what could have been an eternity, the pair came to an empty point in the void.

"Here we are." The woman crouched over a spot in the whiteness, and fiddled with something only she could see.

"Where are we, exactly?"

"Well, we're at a gate. Of sorts. I'll go and ask It whether I should send you back." Her voice was curt, businesslike. She finished fiddling with that spot, and stood up, backing up a bit.

Rourke opened his mouth again, but was interrupted by a sudden rumbling. His M4 went up, and the well-trained Marine searched for the source.

With a quiet pop, a great stone gate had appeared, floating several feet above them. Its surface was carved with images of war and death, most of them resembling Stone Age cave paintings Rourke had seen back home, in a museum. Disturbingly, as his gaze approached the center of the great gateway, the images became clearer, more defined, until he saw a great atomic mushroom cloud in the heart of the door.

"Well, here it is." The woman patted the stone surface with one hand. Rourke simply stared at her, his brow wrinkled. "What, you never open a door before? Go on."

Tentatively, Rourke placed his hand on the door, near the mushroom cloud, and pushed it. It swung in easily, with not a whisper of sound. Inside was a great expanse of darkness. Rourke stood, staring into the void.

It was then when the two heard a great voice in the emptiness, one that the woman had heard time and time again, but the Marine only once.

"GO ON, MY SERVANT. MAKE YOUR WAY TO AETHER, AND CONTINUE YOUR TASKS. It paused, as if it was wondering what to say next. "WOMAN, GO WITH HIM. TEACH THE MAN'S CHARGE. THE SHADE WILL ASSIST YOU." The woman frowned, and then nodded.

"Fine. Whatever. I wanted to leave this dump anyways." Brushing past the Marine, the woman strode into the blackness without so much as a tremble. As soon as she passed under the door, she disappeared. Rourke, not wanting to be left behind, tentatively followed. As soon as he passed through the door, he found that he was lying on the grass, arms spread out wide.

"Ah, so you are awake." Edward could hear the Shade's voice once more. The shadowman was crouching over him, and the inky depths of his face slightly disturbed the man. It certainly wasn't something he liked to wake up to.

"What the hell happened?"

"Well, it seems that you were dead for a while."

"Christ on Friday, this is weird." Rourke shook his head, and stood up. The woman was there, smirking. She was still wearing the Cthulhu shirt and jeans, but she had a messenger bag, slung on her shoulder. Phaedron turned, and saw the woman. He nodded curtly.

"Hello again, Cassandra."

"Nice to see you too, Shade." She smiled at Phaedron, nodding as well. "Well, the big guy has sent me... here, to help train... whoever you're training. Mind filling me in on this?" Phaedron nodded again.

"Of course, Miss. Follow me." The two left Rourke in the dust, chatting up a storm.


Rourke is nearly killed by the Ambrosia, and his consciousness is sent to a pocket dimension where The Chained God keeps his more important minions. He is sent back to the World, the archmage Cassandra in tow. Cassandra learns of the current situation, and of Poena.

[Lordinquisitor]

Now that the fleet and the equipment had been finished, Gheronaton finally had time again to survey his creations. On Incendium he watched countless fights, each meaningless in the grand sheme of things, yet entertaining.

One fight, though, drew his attention. He saw two groups of warriors charging at each other, both parties praying to him and beseeching him for power. Yet, just one group emerged victorious. And even stranger still, the winners praised him for his help, as they looted the fallen.

Gheronaton, of course, hadn`t done anything.

But maybe he should have, he mused. They were fighting for him, asking him for protection and power.. He was a god of honour, after all, and should repay their trust. At the moment he just granted a selected few chosen a place in his refugium, and punished the cowards. But he did nothing for the common warrior, or the elves, who fought in his name.

And then he went to a part of the world, which he had not visited in a long time.

The core of Incendium was filled with the cries and the fears of the cowards. And there were a lot of them. Each one was trapped in his own cell, and tortured by the avengers.

The avengers.. They were a queer sort of minion. Mostly left to their own devices they had developed a most unique culture. They were all honourable, skilled, fighters but also took much joy in torture. He watched how three avengers were skinning one of the worse cowards inch by inch. On the morrow, a avenger overseer told him, they would cut his body in small stripes. Beginning at the toes. And the day after? Maybe they would inject molten iron into his body, but they weren`t sure.

Gheronaton felt no mercy. It was just- That coward discarded his shield and turned to flee, thus opening a hole in the shieldwall of his tribe. His companions were cut down, and he soon after, by an avenger.

With a queer sort of amusement he noticed that the avengers, who tortured him, wore the skin of his fallen comrades. They were bloody and torn and made them look like the corpses of his fallen friends. Somehow Gheronaton thought that this was more cruel than the pain they were inflicting.

The avengers were led by the so called "Lord of Screams". An Avenger who looked like a humanoid dragon and wore the heads of the cowards he`d slain as trophies. Gheronaton counted some hundred, till he grew bored.

The Lord of Screams was full of pride, yet obedient. "Great Skulltaker!" The Avenger King said. "I pray that we fulfilled your orders to your liking. We are most devoted to our task."

"Indeed, you are." Gheronaton nodded in approval. "Yet, tell me how many of your avengers are needed for the punishment of the cowards?"

"At the moment, most of my men are idling. We never need more than a few hundred a day to challenge and torture the cowards. But my Lord will be pleased to hear that they are training in their free time. Seldom now a coward, even if he sums up the courage to fight one of us, survives the encounter."

"You only need some hundred? Then the other ones could be assigned to a different task?"
The Lord of Screams shrugged. "Sure, we are yours to command."

And so Gheronaton told him what he intended. The avengers would be granted powers to support faithful servants of Gheronaton. On every world, where warriors prayed to Gheronaton, there would also be avengers that would watch every fight and, if they deemed it appropiate, would support one side. They woulnd`t win their fights for them, however, they would only lend some support. They would grant brave warriors additional strength when required, would make their wounds heal faster or would whisper supporting and reassuring things into their ears.

When he finished the avenger king smiled. "My Lord, it honours me that you would entrust us with such a task. We will do as you wish, and we will do it good.  You just have to provide us with the necessary powers."

And Gheronaton provided them with the necessary powers. The chosen avengers were now called Judges of war. They were granted more power than the normal avengers, were invisible, could hear whenever and wherever someone prayed to Gheronaton, and could instantly teleport to those.

"Also.." Gheronaton added, as an afterthought, "Punish anybody that breaks a vow sworn upon my name. I guess you have some experience with punishment."

---

Gheronaton blesses some of the avengers and grants them the ability to teleport next to anybody that prays to Gheronaton. They might bless brave warriors, or wounded ones, with new strength and will encourage them. They can also heal wounded soldiers, particulary crippled ones.

They will support only the faithful and the brave.

They also are ordered to punish anyone who breaks an oath sworn to Gheronaton. They might make their life miserable, may make them weak and feeble or take them to the core of Incendium.

[forsaken1111]

The gate was destroyed, and in its place new gods born.

Frustration

Its servant, lost to the conflagration, would not be able to spread dissent among the scholars.

Anger

The Eye's baleful gaze watches the space where the gate had been for a long time. Its divine senses picked out every detail, including the closing of the rift after the brief burp of power and Essence.

Then the Eye turned its gaze inwards, examining its own surface by reflected images in the metal moon.

It remembered something Dragnar had said, and It was pleased.

Deep within, Astra'ath sings, and its twisted song ripples the Void.

Sothurn, you are called

Approach the moon of water

And strike it a godly blow

We will guide your hand

Sothurn, surprised by his master's voice, leapt gladly to obey. He spread adamantine wings and soared through space, his metal skin reflecting the stars. His blade, a thing of fury and molten lead surrounded by the flame of the righteous, hissed in anticipation as he approached the watery moon. Now, guided by his divine master, Sothurn approaches the elemental moon and swings his blade in a punishing arc. The blade flashes, bites, and the rips into the moon. Elemental water, under tremendous pressure, pours forth from the pure elemental source; an inexhaustible torrent jetting out into space, where it freezes almost instantly and begins to boil away.

Astra'ath manipulates the Eye, and gravity fields curl and twist into funnels. The water is sucked down and away, falling across the Eye's black surface. At first it merely hisses into steam, but as more and more water pours out from the endless torrent, the Eye begins to cool. Its obsidian surface fractures and water begins to pool, vapor curling away into a thin atmosphere.

The water deepens, begins to cover some of the smaller fractures and surface irregularities, and Astra'ath applies its knowledge and power. All across the growing planet-wide ocean, water molecules begin to crack and release oxygen while other atoms are spontaneously converted to methane, carbon, and other essential elements. A rudimentary atmosphere is forming on the surface of the Eye, and the ocean grows.

Finally Sothurn, bidden by his god, seals the massive breech with another careful blow. The Eye stood now, covered entirely in water and with a breathable atmosphere.

But Astra'ath was not done.

Yawning caverns opened in the Eye's surface anywhere an orifice opened on Astra'ath's bulk. It tasted the water's composition, and knew it was not yet complete.  All across the Eye, salt is released in massive plumes from the ocean floor. When the ocean's salt content has reached the desired level, new forms emerge from the deep rifts. Fish and ocean-going animals of all types, not seen since Astra'ath consumed the planet Banjo, are once more released into the world. All manner of ocean life flood forth to cover the new underwater habitat, enjoying far more room than ever before.

And then, it rested, as the sealife went about its petty business.

Astra'ath watched, waited, measured, and considered.

Astra'ath draws water from the Elemental Moon to create a planet-wide ocean and atmosphere on the surface of the Eye, and stocks the ocean with every imaginable sort of animal life.