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[ed boy]

Much time had passed since Terron had joined his tribe.

The crystals of truth had been greeted with suspicion, but soon proved their worth. Those who broke the laws were no longer part of the tribe and were forced into exile. The anumbers remained small, but those that remained did not regret what happened.

Those that remained true to the laws were justly rewarded. From the ground, a great structure emerged. Forcing its way through the earth, it was slowly revealed. An enormous tower was the first to break through, but it was a tower composed of shimmering diamond. A full mile it extended. Around it a great keep, a quarter of a mile tall, stood, also made of shimmering diamond. The structures of diamond were clear to those looking out, but opaque to those looking in. During the night, the diamond would cast a great light outwards, illuminating the landscape for many miles. He christened the entire thing the citadel of light.

Terron sat in his throne atop the tower. From this point, he could see the activies of his tribe. The laws that they had first created were good laws, but they could have been better. They were too inflexible, too resistant to change in situation. When he created the citadel, he had offered the tribe residence if they were to abandon the old system and use a new system.

Spoiler: new system (click to show/hide)

-Each tribe member has a rank.
-Always obey orders from those who outrank you
-Do not abuse rank
-Acting against the tribe (killing/stealing/disobeying rank) will lead to you being expelled from the tribe, no longer under the protection of its laws

Most had adopted the new system and lived within the citadel, but several had found themselves unable to trust in the new system and remained outside. Trust was the problem - The essence of the system is that one places trust in the higher ranks to do what is right, that one puts aside one's own ego and places higher value on the judgements of others. This is not an easy task, especially for flawed mortal creatures.

As he sat atop his throne, Terron felt the call of the overgoddess, and was not pleased. She may have been a creator of gods, but she was not a creator of this god. Terron was the product of mortals, and it was the mortals he was trying to concern himself with. Nevertheless, he felt that going would be a neccessary evil. He appointed one of the mortals as steward while he was gone, and travelled to the island.

[Lordinquisitor]

Rahisael dreamed of battle and bloodshed; Of contest and victory. But his dreams were interrupted by stranger ones. He saw an assembly- An assembly of beings like him. They were sitting on wooden benches, waiting for something. Most likely they waited for him.

He had nothing else to do, anyway, and thus he decided to follow the call. It couldn`t hurt to meet the other gods; Maybe he could even find someone to fight. Full of anticipation he searched for the assembly, walking unseen and fast like only gods could.

The island was easy to find, for it shone like a little sun amidst utter darkness. Knowing that the first impression is the most important he prepared a suitable entrance for himself.

Slowly a clamor arose; At first it was faint, but it became stronger and louder until the air was filled with the din of battle. The sound grew ever louder until it seemed to fill the whole world.

And with a sudden crack of thunder he appeared on the clearing, taller than the other gods, wearing his blood spattered bronze armour. The sound faded away until only those who loved battle could hear it.

He smiled at the gods and greeted each one in turn with a few words of courtesy.

Then he turned towards the overgodess and mustered her. After some time he smiled and said "A nice place you have created here.. But it`s too peaceful for my taste. My throat feels raw and dry without some blood.. Ha, for a being with so much might you are quite niggardly, eh? Nothing to drink and simple wooden benches as seats for us" He laughed.
"I`m just joking of course. But i`d really like something to drink." He declared as he sat down.

[Fortis]

Kastheen looked up from her flying, coming to a halt in the air. The Mayura around her fluttered and paused, looking to her curiously and wondering why she had stopped flying. Kastheen remained silent, her head tilted to one side as if listening. After a moment, she flew down to land on the ground, and the Mayura followed her quietly. “I must go,” Kastheen said at length. There was much concerned tittering and chirping among the Mayura at that. “Don’t worry, I’ll return before long my children. Then we will fly together again.” Some of the Mayura relaxed, but some were still anxious at being separated from Kastheen. Still, she spread her wings and took off into the air again, flying out over the ocean within the comfort of a stormcloud.

Over the island the Mother had created, silvery grey clouds billowed, and a gentle rain began to fall. Within this soft shower, Kastheen descended from the cloud, and looked among the gathered beings. Only one she recognized, Amparos, the lord of the deep, but there were many more besides. But one drew her attention, the beautiful woman who’s power outshone even the gathered gods. Though she had never seen her before, Kastheen felt an immediate familiarity with her, as only a daughter could feel for a mother. She wasn’t as alone as she thought, but she had a family!

A cold, formal greeting might be enough for the men, but the discovery of her family was an emotional moment for Kastheen. She didn’t stand back and just talk, but smiled and strode forward up to the overgoddess and embraced her in a loving hug.

[Digital Hellhound]

Amparos frowned at the Wanderer's words at first, though he calmed down when the discussion turned to the sea.
' This 'female' is the All-Mother, fool, the Overgoddess. She is the creator of this world, and of us, the gods.' He paused, fixing his eyes on the Wanderer. 'Atleast, some of us. Do try to show some respect, void-god.'

The arrival of Kastheen did not go unnoticed for him, and he was glad to see a familiar face here. He didn't bother excusing himself from the God of the Abyss, simple striding away, nearer to Mother.

[Atilliano]

Aarseral felt a very strong urge to go somewhere on the other side of the Womb and he followed it although he didn't really want to.
In a blinding light Aarseral appeared on the island and immediatly got nervous by all the gods that were there.
He looked around until he stopped and watched how a woman sat on a throne.
By looking at her he calmed down and began walking to a bench and sat down on it.
'Why do I sit on this bench and not on another one here?' He asked himself.

[Iituem]

"Oh Petra," Murren sighed, pawing the ground listlessly.  "How I wish I could be yours.  I wish those other men wouldn't pester you as they do."  His expression darkened noticeably.  "I can see the greed, the lust in their eyes.  But not me!  No, my love for you is pure as the winter snow.  But they!  They should not sully your beauty with their rude manners."  Murren's hand had grasped a clump of earth, entirely of its own volition.  "I wish they would just... disappear.  I wish that the Lord of Winter himself would just carry them away in a snowstorm!"

"You're calling on the wrong power," said a voice behind him.

Murren stood with a start, panic seizing his muscles.  Winter damn it!  He had been sure nobody had followed him here.  If they had heard what he had said-

"Altan?" Murren said, what little colour draining from his already pale face.  "But you're-"

"Not Altan," Shaq snapped.  "Shaq."

"Wh-what do you want?"

"To give you what you want, of course."  Murren tilted his head.

"You... you are Love?"

Shaq burst into terrible laughter, so loud and forceful Murren feared the tribe might hear.

"Aha hah hah...", he chuckled, wiping a tear from his eye.  "No, I would say I am in fact the exact opposite of Love, but I am still here to give you what you want."

"But if you are not Love, how will you make Petra love me?" Murren asked.

"That's not what you want, Murren.  That's a goal, certainly, but it's not what you want.  What you want is this."  Shaq gestured to a fallen tree, a young sapling but heavy nonetheless.

"A tree?"

"Lift the tree," said Shaq.

"What?" asked Murren, bewildered.

"If you want what you want, lift that tree."

"I can't!  It's too heavy!"

"Can't, or won't?"  Shaq narrowed his borrowed eyes.

"Can't!" repeated Murren, getting frustrated with the line of inquiry.  "I'm not strong enough!"

"Very well.  Another test.  You see that bird?"  Shaq pointed to a white, fluffy bird on one of the trees.  "Kill it."

"I can't, it's too far away.  By the time I got close enough, it would fly away."

"Why?  You could run up to it fast enough, or throw a stone to take it down.  Are you not fast enough?  Not skilled enough?"

"I- I-  No."  Murren shook his head, staring at the ground.  Shaq sneered in response.

"You are not strong, you are not fast, you are not skilled, you are not tough.  In all aspects but one, you are worthless."  Shaq stepped forward and tapped Murren's head.  "Fortunately, that one aspect is what I need."

"You... want to take my head off?"  Murren shook with fear.

"No, you idiot.  I want you to use your head.  I want you to do something for me, and in return I will make you strong.  I will make you fast, I will make you skilled.  I will make you everything you are not, and in return you will honour me as I deserve."  Murren stared at Shaq, disbelief clear in his face.

"I don't believe you," he said.

"What?!" Shaq roared, though that very statement felt like a punch to his gut.

"I don't believe you can do that."

Shaq felt himself lessen somehow, becoming weaker by the very statement.  He lashed out, slapping Murren so hard across the face the northren fell to the ground.

"Get up," Shaq hissed.  "Get up before I kill you myself, you worm."

With difficulty, but less difficulty than he expected, Murren stood.

"Now lift the tree."

"I already told you," Murren protested, "I can't!"

"Lift the tree, damn it!"

Shaken by fear, Murren knelt to the ground and wedged his hands beneath the sapling.  He heaved and heaved with his arms, to no avail.

"Lift with your legs, not your arms, you useless waste of space," Shaq snarled.

Murren tried again, changing the way he distributed his weight and the weight of the tree.  Slowly but surely, he lifted the tree.  It was not easy, but it became possible.

"See the power I can grant you, Murren.  Now hit the bird with a stone," the god said, his voice much smoother than before.

Murren let the tree fall, stepping out of the way before he crushed his toes.  He picked up a stone, gritting his teeth with concentration, and tossed it in the general direction of the bird.  It missed widely, so widely the bird failed to even notice.

"Pitiful," Shaq said, his tone harshening once more.  "Again, but this time do not think about how you are throwing it - just keep your mind on the bird and I will do the rest."

Murren picked up another stone.  He grit his teeth again, but then forced himself to relax.  The god said he would take care of the rest, right?  He shifted his feet into a more comfortable position and just focused on the bird.  Where it was, how it perched, the tiny movement of its breast.  He barely noticed his own throw until it struck the bird flat in the chest.

"There," lied Shaq softly.  "Already I have granted you power to make you stronger and more skilled.  But this is my only gift without respect.  If you want to be truly strong, if you want to be stronger than any in your tribe, even than Old Silver, you must do something for me."

"What?" said Murren, turning to face Shaq.  He could, he had to admit, feel stronger already.  He stood a little differently, didn't slouch.  The feeling of being upright gave him a strange sense of ability that he had not felt before.

"Kill.  You wanted your competitors to disappear.  I have given you the power to do it.  Prove your strength, become stronger for it.  Kill every other man who would stand in your way of the prize.  When you have shown how powerful you are, Petra will have no choice but to fall for you."

"But... but killing?"  Murren's stance slipped, and he hunched again.  "Only Old Silver can do such!  Only he is strong enough to take another's life.  He created the first knife, by which the second murder was done."

"False," Shaq spat.  "False and folly!  I gave him that power, and I can take it away!  I gave him the first knife, and I will not have him steal my glory.  And now I give that power to you, Murren.  Now I give you the opportunity.  For every man you kill and dedicate to my name, I will make you stronger and more powerful.  And this offer extends to any who would respect me in this matter."

"So... if I kill people and say it was because of you, you'll make me stronger like you did just now?"

"Much stronger.  But that's to start with.  The murdered require honouring, Murren.  This is why I need you most of all.  You will be my... what is the word for one who teaches?"

"Prothid?" said Murren uncertainly.

"Fine, then you will be my prophet.  You will honour those who are murdered by building a... damn it, what is the name for a pile of stones?"

"Shaqrin?"

"Shaqrin.  Sha'rin.  Shrin.  That'll do.  You will build a pile of stones to cover the body of every person who is murdered.  You will dedicate this 'shrine' to me, and to the one who died.  In this way, I will be honoured and so will they."

"But why?  The dead are just - dead.  They don't matter any more."

"They do!" Shaq roared, and he could feel the hatred and disgust pouring through his veins.  "They live on - in me!  And I will not suffer them to be forgotten.  You will make a shrine first to Altan, who was murdered for a blade, and in it you will place this."  Shaq opened his hand and let something fall from it - a tiny black orb, no bigger than a thumbnail.  "It is the embodiment of the Covenant that I have promised to you.  Kill, dedicate, grow stronger.  Do this for me, and nothing you want will be beyond your grasp."

And just like that, Shaq was gone, leaving Murren to decide for himself how to proceed.


Jack introduces the Silver tribe to Ceremonial Burial.
Jack forms the Covenant, embodied in a Trothstone
- This covenant contains the power to fulfill itself and cannot be broken until the stone is.
- The covenant is that those who kill and dedicate the kill to Jack shall increase in strength, speed and skill.

[Iituem]

Shaq stepped, and he was on an island.  A beautiful paradise, almost beyond compare.  He had not meant to come here - the compulsion had forced him to against his will.  Or rather, it had forced his will to make him want to.  Something about that sickened him greatly.

He strode, under a will that was his and not his, to a clearing in the centre of the isle.  There stood a wooden chair, and before it thrice seven logs.  To one of them he felt compelled to approach.  Shaq resisted with all his might, and strode past it to the woman in the chair.

"You," he whispered softly, trying to fight past the haze of compulsion in his mind.  She looked like a northren, but less muscled and with less hair.  Her hair was was a bark-like brown, not white, and she sat naked in the chair.  Shaq tried to understand, and piece by piece the information crawled into his mind.

"You are... Na.. nat..."  He couldn't form the words, even though deep down he knew them.  "You are my mother."

The figure's head dipped once, lightly.  Shaq knew what he had to do.

A sharpened knife of stone was in his hand now.  He leapt, raising the blade for a killing stroke.

He fell, missed, hit the floor and his hand loosened of its own will.  He felt his feet drag him away, his own body and will frog-marching him against his desires back to the bench to which his fate was consigned.

Jack attempts - and fails - to try to murder the Overgoddess.

[Ghazkull]

The Maw felt strange. Since his awakening he only felt two things: the stinging of insatiable Hunger and the cold urging crave for revenge. But now, he felt something different a strong alluring pull, soothing his mind, put at the same time forcing him into one direction. He couldn't resist and gave in to the pull. Hunger appeared on the clearing, without any ponderous show, no water falling from the sky, no living ships emerging from the seas, no. Hunger appeared like the need for food, just being suddenly there in ones body and demanding to be taken care of. Appearing next to the God of Battle, he looked even older and weaker. His old rusted mail shirt seeming a poor excuse for protection in comparison to the polished bronze plate armor of Rahisael. An old done men next to a warrior in the prime of his life. He didn't say even one word, only giving a short nod to the overgoddess before taking a seat.

[Caesar]

While Nativa was the one that was supposed to be wise, old, and in charge, she was struck silent by surprise every time.
A strange feeling ran through her belly: She was being called mother. She was about to react when two other Gods appeared. She thought they looked wise. She knew that they too were her children, and her mouth shut.

Chosen his realm she had, yes. Ashamed she had lowered her head. She did not know his name. It made her feel terrible.
One after the other Gods appeared. In their own ways, they all managed to astound her. Whatever they said went past her, as she did her best to memorize their names and appearances. They were her children. Her eyes filled with tears.

When she was hugged by Kastheen, the Goddess of weather, slight tears of joy turned into a waterfall of happiness. This Goddess had not just acknowledged her, but she had shown true affection. She closed her in her arms tightly.

While she was slowly surrounded by those Gods that called her mother, she decided to be more welcoming, more acceptive. She wanted to hear what they had to say. She wanted to talk to the beings around her. She wanted to learn what they had learned. That she had wanted for the darker figure as well, until she was surprised by it as it raised a rock to hurt her. Even before she could scream or defend herself. He was gone.

She was fearful. She was scared. Freeing herself of Kastheen's grip, she disappeared into the forests, darting quickly through the trees like a frightened deer.

[LAAT501legion]

The Lord of Death finished creating the Scatii. He must make them sentinent, but he had more urgent matters. He feltl an strong call from an island. Not matter who is, it would have to wait . He had created a race that will be his followers, now he needed something for him.

The Lord of Death gathered the most pure obsidian he found,  and with them he began to work. Inbudding the obsidian with his hate, he created and obsidian sword, Masayoshi, that will serve him to make justice, and an armor, Bōei, that will defend him from other gods. He equiped them (they will be his atuend from now on), and then he went to the island.
When he arrived, instead of taking a chair (He don't need to sat down, and he will only make it because a very important reason), he looked at the other gods.
-What's the point of this meeting? I have more important things that talking with someone who doesn´t know what's the meaning of the word clothes-Said in an angry fashion.

The lord of Death creates Masayoshi, an obsidian divine sword that will use to make justice
The lord of Death creates Bōei , an obsidian divine armor that will protect him from other gods

----------------
Image of how The lord of Death looks

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

(Yes, I like Saint Seiya  )

[Digital Hellhound]

Amparos watched with astonishment and shock as the strange god raised a blade and tried to strike at the Overgoddess. Things happened incredibly fast, and before he could do anything, the Overgoddess was running into the woods. There was no point in running after her now - even though the island was quite small, he had no wish to search the trees, so far away from the sea.

He turned his attention to the attacker, who was limping towards the log-benches, seemingly ignorant of what was happening around him. Well, that would have to change. Determined, Amparos quickly made his way to the still-moving figure. With one swift move, he grabbed a handful of fur and pulled the god down to the ground.

'You will give me one good reason not to end your life right here and now.' he growled.

[Fortis]

“Wait, Mother!” Kastheen called out as Nativa squirmed out of her arms and fled into the forests, when the other god had the gall to brandish a stone knife at the Overgoddess. As the childish mother of the Titans disappeared amid the trees, Kastheen whirled to face Shaq, even as Amparos threw him to the ground. Her eyes flashed and sparks of lightning crackled over her wings. “How dare you!” Kastheen shouted. The sky darkened, and she intended to summon down a bolt of lightning to blast Shaq, despite Amparos’ demand for a reason first.

Nothing came forth, though, and her storm faded despite her power, letting the sun shine again. She was strong, but the Overgoddess’s magic in the island was stronger. Kastheen fumed, but calmed herself after a moment. If nothing else, Kastheen would wager that Amparos’ spear was more than a match for Shaq’s knife. “Amparos, I’m going to find Mother. Can you deal with him?” Kastheen asked. She waited but a second for an answer before running after the path Nativa had taken into the woods.

[Digital Hellhound]

' This fool? Of course.' Amparos replied, not turning his eyes from the murderous being for one second. He held Ecaras steady in his hands, even though he somehow knew it was weaker than it should've been.

[Lordinquisitor]

Rahisael laughed and asked the attacker "I appreciate your fervor. But why exactly did you try to kill her? I mean, hey, we just had a little talk here."

[Caesar]

Nativa was running. She knew that she was quicker, more agile, and perhaps even stronger than who- or whatever would follow her, yet she fled. Eventually, after having reached one of the more densely forested parts of the island, she dared stop.
"What am I doing?" she wondered. She was showing weakness. That was what she was doing. She was showing her children that she was easily manipulated. That was what she was doing. Yet, even though she knew what she had to do, it felt only natural to her to respond to hostility with fear.

She was ashamed, and eventually, shame is stronger than any fear. She pulled herself together, and then sat down in a clearing, waiting.