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[ragnarok97071]

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 I will have the mages begin construction of quarters for you then. Feel free to instruct them on the particulars. Magus dissapears, moving to the City of Dordrath. Well, you are a bastion of safety, so I think I'll help you increase in knowledge, so you may become a bastion of plenty and warrant an extension of my presence. He finds a craftsman, a mason having just finished his work for the day, and speaks a single word. Time. The mason would suddenly have a vision, images of various methods of keeping accurate time, ranging from sundials to clockwork. He would immediately begin construction of one of these, hopefully spurring further advances. He would know, however, the god who has given him this gift. Magus, God of Magic.

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"I will have the mages begin construction of quarters for you then. Feel free to instruct them on the particulars." Magus dissapears, moving to the City of Dordrath. "Well, you are a bastion of safety, so I think I'll help you increase in knowledge, so you may become a bastion of plenty and warrant an extension of my presence." He finds a craftsman, a mason having just finished his work for the day, and speaks a single word. "Time". The mason would suddenly have a vision, images of various methods of keeping accurate time, ranging from sundials to clockwork. He would immediately begin construction of one of these, hopefully spurring further advances. He would know, however, the god who has given him this gift. Magus, God of Magic.

[Karnewarrior]

"Shaq."

Carmanthyre was out of his blade, holding over his shoulder in such a way that he looked both exhausted and battle-ready at once.

"Did you feel it? We got new spheres. I got yours and you got mine." Carmanthyre put emphasis on the final words.

"We're more linked than ever now. I can't remember this ever happening before, in this universe or another. But it makes sense that if one of us dies, the other will too."

Carmathyre sighed and held out a hand.

"Truce. For as long as we can keep it."

[Iituem]

Jack shimmered into being, giving his younger brother a cold, almost irritated look.

"I don't hold for heroics.  I make no pretense that that what I am is anything noble."  He sighed and took Carmanthyre's hand.  "But the connection I can't deny.  Your heroics seem to demand my touch, and of late it seems my nature has been put to use in heroics.  Very well, a truce for as long as it lasts.  But don't expect me to agree with everything you do."  Jack released his hand and turned to look at the smouldering village.  "You move your piece, Carmanthyre.  I have to redirect some pieces of my own onto the field."

Jack began to fade, then momentarily stabilised before he did so.

"Maybe we both need to live to survive - or perhaps there can only be one God of Murder.  We'll see, brother.  We'll see."

[Karnewarrior]

" I guess we will. I heard your conversation with Estriss. You're... Right. I guess. We need to get out of here. It's not safe. Whatever these creations are, they look like the work of Amparos. I'm not sure what he's doing, But I refuse to let him get away with it. Still, the lives of the people come first." Carmanthyre nodded and headed off to explain the plan to Eowel.

[nuker w]

Flicking his fingers, his two escorts disappeared into the night. With a flash that engulfed the small hill in its light, he warped in an instant back to the mark. Clicking his finger, the leader of the Tauristan appeared next to him.

"Alert the others that the playing field has changed and to be cautious of all things, mortal or not mortal, above or near this area." he ordered. "Also, I wish for all of the new Beings of Sand to wait here on this mark until I say otherwise. If I am correct, we should have a small army in the period of a week. You have your orders."

And with that, The Wanderer disappeared back into the void, waiting for the right moment to strike.

[Caesar]

"Hush, little girl, you do not have to cry,"

In the shadows of a majestic oak a little maiden watched the remains of the carnage in front of her. Her eyes were fixed on the gruesome spectacle of the skinning of her parents' remains, the butchering of their Northren trade partners and friends, along with the constant sound of grinning in the dark. She watched the wolf-like savages eat, while the mole-people dragged off corpses and items that were left astray.

"Hush, little girl, you'll have your time,"

She looked away, into the face of her new sister, listening to her soothing voice as it sung softly.

"Hush, little girl, find comfort in this rhyme,"

She took her hand, feeling comfortable near her big sister. Her hands dug into the flesh of the strange being.

"Hush, little girl, find comfort in lullaby,"

Turning her face, if it was even still to be called a face compared to what it had been before, back to those she hated, her fingers, now claws, released the hand of the being next to her.

"Hush, little girl, with them your pain will die.."


On the volcano, it never snowed, and if it did, the snow would melt whenever it touched the ground. The pool in the shrine to the Lord of Winter never froze, as it had been intended to be, however hard the priests of the Lord of Winter tried to keep it cool.

One flake of snow fell through the open roof, cradled by the gentle streams of air on the Volcano. Sometimes it moved to the left, sometimes it fell in a spiral, and sometimes it decided to move to the right. Always it seemed to aim outside of the pool, to fall on the stone floor, and just when it was about to land on the ground, a final sigh, a slightest wind, made it spiral up, and land in the middle of the pool.
No longer a pool, the shrine of the Lord of Winter was now home to a solid circle of ice.


"To slumber is to fail, dear brother."
"To wait is to abandon, brother dear."

In front of the figure that was the Lord of Winter, sleeping in his chair, a monstrosity crawled. Her fur was white, laced with blood. Her hands were claws, yellow and sharp. Her face was that of a little human girl, but her mouth was filled with teeth of Wrath. Her feet seemed normal, until she bent them to take another step. Her body was twisted, and her skin was blistered. She was Retribution.

"Awaken, brother, to talk with me!"
"Awaken, brother, to talk with us!"
"Daughters of your mother, sisters of Wrath, harbingers of Remorse of Retribution. Please, Lord of the Zealous, hear our plea!"


Nativa changes.
Nativa's change brings the birth of a Demigod, by the name of 'Retribution'.
The Lord of Winter gains the title of The Lord of the Zealous.
The Lord of Winter gains the sphere of 'Zealotry'.
The sisters of Wrath plead for the Lord of Winter to talk with them in his palace.

[forsaken1111]

His eyes opened, and the room grew cold.

Piercing grey, his gaze swept over the presence before him, she who dared intrude in his demesnes.

Finally, after a long uncertain moment, a voice like cracking ice and crunching snow.

"I hear you little sister. I hear my people suffer."

Body still as ice, his eyes flick to the wall as though he can see beyond. Divine senses take in all that winter sees, and he is not pleased.

"A handful of years I sleep, and this is what I awake to find? The world at the brink of war, my children attacked and harassed. This cannot stand."

For the first time in several centuries, the Frostlord moves and the mountains move with him. Glaciers tremble as he stands, and tundra splits as he flexes muscles long unused. His footsteps shake the snow from the peaks and send animals for miles around scurrying to their burrows. He looks down at Retribution, his mind filled with images of war and death.

"Speak to me, little sister, of all that I have missed. Advise me of my people's plight, that I may aid them. Tell me of my enemies, that I may crush them. The Frostlord sleeps no more, and soon the world will tremble!"

[Caesar]

I am action, I am Retribution.
Our mother bled, and from her blood I was born.

The girl crawled backwards, consumed by shadows, and Remorse appeared, moving graciously through the empty hall, her thorns laced with snow and her breath turned into ice.

I am emotion, I am Remorse.
Our mother shed tears, and from her tears I was born.

Retribution re-emerged from the shadows, dripping blood onto the frozen floors ever so slowly. Rising to her feet, she took her sisters' hand. They talked as one, a chorus of malice and mystery.

By mortals you were wed, to your sister, Phera.
To your children she brought peace, love and prosperity.

Phera is but one Goddess. Our Mother is all.
Our Mother changes, hear our plea! For every tear, for every drip of blood, our mother cringes. The face of our world, the heart of our universe, she desires balance.

You are on the brink of War, you are her chosen prophet among the Gods

Slowly the feral girl sank to her knees, looking up at the God that towered above her.

Emerge from seclusion, leave behind Neutrality! Face your brother, Rahisael and the Lord of Hunger, and return balance to them, for they upset your people! Take Retribution with you, and show them Remorse. Please, brother dear, dear brother.. We are your tools, we serve your cause.

Once more taking Retribution's hand, Remorse spoke up at the Lord of Winter.

Take your sisters, sisters of Wrath, to war.

[forsaken1111]

The Frostlord considers for a long moment, and rime begins creeping up the cave walls.

"If the mother calls me to war, I shall answer. My people must take a stand. Come, small sister. We must address my children."

He gestures, and the mountain's slope shatters. He strides out into the snowy flurries and winds whip around him. The winds embrace his form, bearing him effortlessly to the top of the Rimefire Pinnacle which he created so long ago. A powerful focus for his energies, he uses it now to send a call to Phera. A low sonorous tone rolls across the land, summoning his sister goddess when she is able.

That done, he dissolves into a flurry of snow and reforms in the Northren village within the hidden valley. He appears before his people in all his glory, his voice booming above the wind and cold.

"My children, I have awoken."

[Evergod41]

He felt something. Something that was new, yet old. Something that was strange, yet He knew everything about. Something that was different, yet similar to what has passed. War, Khan knew this thing, He despised it, yet He loved it. Now it is coming, and Khan shall need to prepare.

Still sitting in the pagoda as more gods of 'good' intent arrived, Khan shifted position in His throne and started mumbling to Hisself. When in reality He was talking to His latest creation, The Minotaur.

"I know this is sudden and ill-prepared for. But I need you to do something, I have a feeling that there are forces gathering armies, to start a war. I would prefer it not to happen, but would love it to proceed. I need you to seek out the recruiters of this gathering army, and make them stop. Whether by force, or simply by threat."

Khan simply hopes that there is still time to observe the begining of the war personally. Shifting back into an upright position, He hears the Emporer of the Seas make his greeting, then a query, which does beg to question.

"Yes, why are we here?"

[Atilliano]

What did I create?
Aarseral thought.
A war... A large, life-consuming war...
I am not worth to be called 'the protector of life' for I destroyed it.
I am a disgrace... Never will I get involved into mortal affairs again... NEVER!!!

'Hello sir, can you help me?' A voice asked.
Aarseral looked up and saw the girl he saved from the beasts of sand back in the village.

'I've lost my mom and dad. I've been searchin' and searchin' but I can't find them. Can you help me?
Aarseral's anger quickly turned into pity.
'You poor thing, I will help you find them, I promise.'
'Thank you sir, you're really nice.'
'Come with me, they're most likely somewhere in the village.
As Aarseral and the girl searched through the village, she told him her name was Urena and her mother one of the priests from the temple.
At a certain moment, Aarseral looked at her, and suddenly he knew where her mother was.
During the fight, he had seen a sandbeast striking down a woman near the temple.
The girl looked exactly like her, except for her nose, which was probably her father's.
'Let's look near the temple remains.'
'Okay, sir.'


The little girl looked at the corpse of her mother.
She cried as she gave the body a hug.
Aarseral stood behind her, looking at the dead body.
He wished he could reawaken it, but he couldn't.
He felt sad, and great pity towards the little girl.
He walked to her and slowly began draging her away from the corpse.
'Don't watch.'
'Why .. my mothe.. hav.. die.. s.. fast.' she answered.
Aarseral's eyes softened.
Do you know anyone who could care for you? he asked, to change the subject.
'Well, my mothe alway..s..s..s say a woman name..d E...E...Estriss was nice.' she said, still crying.
'Then we will go to her, and ask if she could care for you.'

'there she is, sir, at the entrance of the t-temple.'
Aarseral walked to Estriss and asked:
'Are you Estriss?'
'Yes, why?'
'This little girl has lost her mom, and doesn't know where her dad is.
She told me you have always been very nice to her mother.
And she really needs someone to care for her, so.. if you would want to.. then here she is... What do you say?

[Ghazkull]

Gernad looked at those...beasts in disgust. He had been dishonoured by...vermin. He was not worthy of the gifts the Lord of the Seas had given him. Enslaved by these primitive things was the worst that could have happened to him. Even now they chirped in their primitive voice and eyed him nervously. Propably he would end up as their next meal. Oh by Amparos, his chest felt with every minute worse. Maybe he would die. He did not even dare thinking about it. A High Blood dishonoured and enslaved! He don't wanted to think what would happen if he died.

finally the chirping ended and one of the beasts came closer. It didn't even fear him! He growled and wrinkled in his fetters, but it didn't even flinch. Why should it? he was now nothing more than their slave...or even worse...it began to ignite a small fire right in front of him. That was it? That was how Gernad son of Ganad of High Blood Chosen fo Amparos would die? As a feast for rats? He couldn't even percieve the flahing club as it came down on his head...

It is done...i did my best to fix the beast up. However i still think we should eat it Fangleader...

Nonsense Needles! We are not like those things. We are not babarians...

it was so nice and warm. Like back home in the seas of Seyth. He was floating through the waters of Seyth. But something was tugging at his side. He ignored it. The warm darkness was slowly embracing him. But the tugging didn't stop...it became slowly stronger and urging. He doesn't want to leave the sweet embracing...

A gush of cold water woke Gernad rather unpleasantly. And again he stared into the red gleaming and appraising stares of his captors. It had been too beautiful to be true. The tugging in his side no had changed. It turned into pain. Horrible pain. He cried in agony and looked at his chest. The carapace had been crudely nailed together with heated sharp stones which were still glowing red hot. The pain was nearly unbearable. Howls of pain were echoing through the tunnel and only moments later Gernad realised that it were his own. They sounded weak and desperate. He tried to wriggle from his fetters but it was useless...Suddenly the largest of the surrounding things was coming towards him. With quite an elaborate sign language he didn't think possible of this animals it was trying to show him something. It pointed at itself and then at the others surrounding it and then uttering a chirping noise.
Murr
Murr? what was that?
It pointed at him
nar Murr
Finally Gernad understood. The beast was telling him that it was some beast called Murr. It pointed  at Gernad and raised its empty claws with the downside upwards.

nar Murr?

I am Gernad son of Ganad! Chosen of Amparos!

it looked at him with a strange expression and tried to replicate that what he said. But instead it ushered horrible chirping sounds which sounded like vomiting.
Grnd n gnd...mpros?

Gernad shook his had at the sheer stupidity of those beasts.
Chosen! of! Amparooos!

The thing looked at him with a bleak expression. Then it began to draw a fish in the dirt in front of him. Not actually a fish but a man with a fish as a head.

What is this insult? I AM NO FISH! I am a Chosen of Amparos the Emperor of the Seas you worthless vermin!

patiently the thing pointed at his carapace.

These are the presents of the god of the sea! How dare you compare me to mere fish!

The thing was still pointing at his carapace. This was going to be a long night...

[dragnar]

Magic has begun to spread, and the first circle of mages has formed. But most of the world has experienced only the selfish, destructive side of magic. I must do something about this.

Dordrath, like any city of any size, had plenty of empty, abandoned buildings. One in particular, an old run-down store whose owner had died years ago, sat unused and rotting. Endras appeared inside, looked around for a moment, and took a seat behind the counter. Moments later, the inside of the shop changed, looking brand new once again as the shelves were filled with minor magical devices of every kind, mainly simple potions and the like, but a few greater wonders. On the outside the shop remained as it was to most, but any who had need of the shop's services would see it as something else. The illusion would change depending on the customer, but it would always be eye-catching, something to draw them in. The enchantment had one further aspect: it would move to another building with every customer, constantly moving about the city(and others once they are large enough) so that none may easily locate the store more than once.

Endras creates a magical shop that moves between the various  abandoned buildings of the world.

[forsaken1111]

"Yes, very good Ambrose. A fine strike." The Frostlord parried the swordthrust easily, swatting it aside with his bare hand. He did not lie though, the Northren were learning. The secrets of smelting and metalshaping, taught to them by another god, had been put to a new purpose. While metal armor is impractical in such cold climates, it still worked very well for weaponry and their god's awakening had whipped the Northren into a frenzy of activity. New weapons of all types had been forged, and the frozen valley now rang with the constant pounding of blacksmith's hammers. Smoke rose from the settlements in unprecedented amounts as industry sweeps across the quiet people.

Organized hunting parties stockpiled food from the rich forests and tundra around them, and many young men had volunteered for the newly created militia. They were far from a veteran fighting force, but what they lacked in skill and equipment they made up for in fanatical dedication to training.

The Frostlord, standing among them almost as an equal, was nonetheless the target of much deference and worship even as he trained them in the art of battle and fury. He towered over them, a full 4ft taller than any Northren in the field, and yet he did not abuse them or even think himself superior. His people needed help, and he threw himself to the task with as much dedication as the lowest scout now firing at practice targets with the first military bows ever created in the valley.

He stepped away from the sparring group now, his gaze sweeping the valley. Much had changed, the Northren were more numerous than ever. Yet still many lives were lost each year to the snows and the harsh landscape. His people. born of the wolf, would need help to fight. Their numbers had grown, but were still too few to field an army. Suddenly an idea struck, and his smile caused the entire camp to drop several degrees in temperature.

As the Frostlord raised his arms, a hush descended across the training camp. They had celebrated their god's return, but had not yet observed him perform... now every grey eye turned upon the diety to see what he would do.

For a long moment nothing happened, then rustling all around the treeline drew their attention. Aghast, the Northren watched as massive wolves walked out of the trees and stopped. Hundreds of wolves... thousands... all of them emerged from the edges of the valley and every one of them watched the Winter Lord unblinking. As one, they sat and the sound of a thousand howls echoed across the frozen valley.

The Lord of Winter calls the wolves, binding them to his loyal Northren. Now any march of Northren will include feral arctic wolves which defend the Frostlord's children with their very lives. They will obey the Northren without question, and viciously kill anyone else without hesitation.

[adwarf]

Kain soon notices there is no way out of his mountain home so his creations can not expand past this cavern he calls home so he creates a tunnel that is 10 feet long and 4 and a half feet tall  "Here my children when you have grown past one hundren I wish you to use this passage to go and settle the mountains around us goodbye my children for now I must sleep."
His work done for now Kain goes deep into his cavern sealing himself in a room of solid gold.