Print

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

[Digital Hellhound]

Mahet had been circling the dream for hours now. Unlike the dreams of mortals, sparks that died out and then re-ignited during every day, this one was fixed, and shining like a beacon in the darkness of the world of dreams. He had never seen anything this... static before. His realm was always shifting, always changing, lacking any kind of order. It was strange he had not found this one earlier.

And it was obviously not the dream of a mortal. He could feel the power of a divine mind raging inside. There was no telling what awaited him inside.

Taking a deep breath, Mahet let go and entered the dream of Anea, the Goddess of the Sea.

---

Mahet was thrown hard against the cliffs by the force of the storm. He struggled for something to hold onto, but the stone was wet and slippery. The ocean depths awaited below, and fear of that abyss nearly overtook him. The depths meant death for him. But the Goddess needed her sacrifice, and...

Mahet cursed, and was again standing unwavering ontop of the cliff. The storm had no hold over him. The water, and everything else here, could not harm him. He had lost control. He had been over-confident, thinking he could control this dream like a simple mortal's one. Mahet couldn't see the dreamer, but felt her presence all over the dream, which was already beginning to change form.

'Sea-goddess, show yourself! You trespass in my realm! Why are you here?' he demanded of the ocean depths. The mask was in place - he had no reason to show his face to this creature. Was the goddess a spy? Or here to kill him and take his place? He would not be caught unprepared ever again.

[Ghazkull]

a small girl of sixteen years appeared some 30 feet away from Mahet. Her grey eyes stared at him emptily while at the same time a knowing grin passed her face. As she spoke her voice sounded at the same time like that of a child befitting her age and that of an very old women.

This is new. A stranger in my dream? How refreshing!

Anea cocked her head and laughed. Her laugh sounding like the sound of a fresh mountain spring rushing towards a valley. Instantly the dream began to shift: The Storm began to cease and the grey sea turned blue once again. Ignoring the questions of the other god she asked her own

Say Stranger, what are you doing in my dream?

 she walked towards him fearlessly, circling him and measured him from all sides. All the while her grin grew broader.

[Digital Hellhound]

Mahet grabbed the girl's arm to stop her from moving around, growling. 'I am in no mood for games, girl. The world of dreams is mine to rule, while you belong to the depths of the sea, not here. But I have nver seen you leave this dream. So I ask you again - why are you here?'

[Ghazkull]

The girls double voice changed again this time getting an inhuman tune to it.

Don't you ever dare touching me again, Dreamweaver!

She ripped her arm from his grip and the formerly grey eyes turned into the green of a murky and sickening swamp, her dress got a darker greyer colour. Her voice however went back to the normal child/crone tune.

I have dreamed since my creation and have never known else, i am confined here, why i do not know. It has always been like that and it will propably stay until like this until the end of creation. I have no interest in your dreamland as long as you dont decrease the size of my cell. And even if i wanted to take over the dreams of the others  i couldn't.

The grin vanished.
__________________________________

Meanwhile in the Outside World the waves had increased strength, the waters of the sea turned from a clear blue into a sickening green and the warm breeze turned into freezing cold strong wind...

[Digital Hellhound]

Mahet took a few unvoluntary steps backwards, surprised by the fire in the girl's voice. He quickly rethought his approach - intimidation was obviously pointless against her. Mahet was unsure how well he would do in combat against the goddess. It was best not to anger her unnecessarily.

'My apologies, goddess. I acted without thinking.' he said, softening his tone of voice. 'You say you have been here since you awoke? You have not seen what lies outside this dream?' he smiled. 'Would you like to see the dreams of mortals then, girl?'

[Ghazkull]

Anea considered the proposal of the other god for a moment. A grin began to form again

 If you have the power to do so i would be happy to accept...[/b]

[Digital Hellhound]

Mahet smiled, offering his hand. 'Well, then. Just follow me.'

Behind him, a portal had appeared in the air and was growing larger as they spoke. It was thoroughly unnecessary theatrics, but it might impress the girl.

[ragnarok97071]

Lady of Flame //intermission//
Land of Death //begin//
Lavos, following the spirit of one of the destroyed, soon found himself in another land, ruled, though he does not immediately know this, by another god. He would most likely not remain ignorant for long.

[forsaken1111]

A god’s arrival... such an event does not go unnoticed. It caused a ripple in the endless grey mists which eventually reached Death Himself. Inscrutable behind his deep hood and cloak, He stood from the Black Throne and gathered His scythe. His form melted away into the ever present mists and reformed near Lavos. A voice issues forth, a scratching whisper which offends the ears and, had not Lavos been a god, would have struck him dead where he stood.

“Who are you who walks with Death? Who are you to trespass where no living man may tread? Speak your name and purpose.”

Death stands ready, Scythe raised in challenge. The mists of the realm boil around Him and the souls of the dead begin to gather at His unconscious summons.

[ragnarok97071]

Lavos grins. the fire upon his armor burns slightly brighter as he replys. "Greetings, Brother Death. Or I assume that you are death, considering our meeting place. I am Lavos. My Purpose is Destruction." He looks around. "you seem to have done my job for me in this place..."

[forsaken1111]

"This place is the end of all things. Nothing is eternal, even a god may die."

The hooded face, shadowed and unreadable, watches Lavos as thin arms hold the scythe at the ready. Death's hands are purest black, a complete absence of matter and energy which captures the eye and somehow seems to contain an unimaginable, impossible depth in which small lights twinkle feebly. All around Him the mists continue to roil, flowing into His black robes; souls too are being sucked in, vanishing with pitiful wails as they touch His flesh.

"What is your purpose in the realm of the dead, if not to die?"

[ragnarok97071]

Lavos smiles. As he does so, a tongue of black lightning escape from between his teeth.
I come seeking information. Specifically, what happens to the spirits of those who are destroyed. You could say that I am interested in the aftermath of my work.
He looks around for a moment, and continues.
I must say that this is a fitting place for cowards and the weak. Though I am somewhat irked that those who caused grat destruction in my name are treated in the same manner as such. Would you worry much, Brother Death, if I crafted a realm for these paragons of destruction to gather after they become taken by destruction as well? Your comment is apt, and I agree, Even we who are timeless, Destruction and Death may die as well.

[Caesar]

Important! Wiki experts: Please add the artifacts, changes to gods, races, relations, tribes and other creations made during this turn to the wiki. Important!

Turn one: Genesis


Altair creates The Stone of Ingenuity, it's an obsidian stone with a glowing emblem of a hawk carrying a bundle of arrows. - One act

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

It has the ability to 'unlock' the ideas one has deep inside, thus sparking their creativity.

Chlorine makes a demand of his followers to spread his religion by breeding and enslaving other tribes. He remains with his tribe for a while to ensure they follow his wishes. - One act

Death takes extra care to guide the dead to their final rests. - One act

Droth'allor creates the Fufor wolves by mutating a small pack of wolves into deformed, spiked and strong versions of their previous selves. Although they still get many children, like normal wolves, most of them are born infertile. They follow the Wolfmaster. - One act
Droth'allor grants a huntress named Shaella the ability and right to lead the pack of Fufor wolves. She is the first Wolfmaster, a man or woman who has proven themselves a great hunter or warrior to Droth'allor. When she dies, the pack will choose a new Wolfmaster. - No acts

The Lady is named Astra'lith by a lover, Utsu. - No acts
The Lady saves Utsu's daughter, Elti, from her people and from a jaguar. - One act
The Lady instructs Elti to travel to the village of the Sunrise Forest people and preach the word of a false god, Ogdi, and to relay the worthy prayers to her. - No acts

Mahet grants a young woman named Isna the ability to manipulate and walk between dreams freely, and tasks her with teaching a lesser form of this to all who listen, spreading knowledge of Mahet in the process. - One act

Anea's lively Dreams cause her to take shape on the Sacrificial Cliff of her tribe, and a simple fisherman causes her to invoke an enormous storm, leaving an abundance of fish on the coasts. - One act

Kath talks to a man who worships him in the tribe, named Dente. - No acts
Kath orders Dente to give his tribe three tasks. - No acts

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

They need to be strong and become the predator, not the predated.
They are to spread the idea of Kath, whether by conquest, or more peaceful methods.
They must prove themselves intelligent, by solving problems through innovation.

Kath permanently ensures any fervent worshiper of his gains the ability to see in the dark as if it were twilight. - Two acts (Needs to be added to Kath's profile on the wiki.)

Sei’imeri modifies the river in the valley of the tribe of the butterfly to flood annually, and to deposit layers of thick, fertile silt on the floodplain much like the Nile river. - Two acts

Isra, the first Dreamwalker, ventures out of her village to teach Dreamwalking to anyone willing to listen after several years of using her ability to manipulate those around her. - No acts

Lavos creates Destruction's Edge, a warscythe that is sharp beyond human means, and cannot be wielded by any but Ahyra, his chosen champion. - One act

Death’s Citadel is born, a place of suffering and remorse, using the countless souls of the dead as building material. - One act

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Death's Throne allows him to guide souls into the realm of the dead from afar.

Alcinoe blesses the chieftain of the Tribe of the Raven, giving him and his direct descendants almost unnatural physical prowess and mental acuity. The chieftain is still mortal, but is much more resilient against disease or injuries. - One act

Mahet and Anea meet.

Lavos and Death meet.

Some are active, others are reactive. Few are, however, as passive as she. Where the mortals always experienced the sensation of the burning gazes of their Gods, the Gods were prone to a feeling of being watched themselves. She observed as the Gods of the realm rested and watched their followers. She read their minds, came to know them, but mainly watched for the moments they would surprise her. These moments became increasingly rare, but satisfying. Some Gods she viewed as respectable, or favorable. Others seemed to challenge her, unaware of their actions. One she despised. But was it not in despise that one finds her motivation?

The tribe of the hawk were feared on their plains. Their hunting grounds had grown with every tribe that dared attack them. Using obsidian arrows, axes and spears, they chased them off. Like wounded mice, these tribes trailed away, leaving them alone. As they grew, a tradition was formed. Through the course of decades, the chieftains would appoint a new Artificer, choosing from among their young the brightest. The Artificers would sharpen obsidian to make weapons and crafts, but also tools. Only the Artificers were allowed to carry the Stone of Ingenuinity, with the exception of the Ritual of the Hawk, where a chieftain would choose a new Artificer. Serving as the chieftain's adviser, the Artificer would be the second-most influential person in the tribe. With every generation, arrows were sharpened, and techniques improved. Every Artificer dreamed of creating something new, and it would only be a matter of time before they would dazzle their world.

Several months their violent God had remained with them, before the tribe of Chlorine wake to find their master missing. His absence, however, only served to increase their attempts to fulfill his wishes, and they fought ever more valiantly to prove their worth. Over the course of decades, many tribes were put to the spear, and the followers found indeed that through enslaving the lesser tribes to fight for them, their ranks bolstered. War, however, is a two-edged blade, and recently, they found themselves on the sharp end of the spear. Challenged by the greatest of the tribes in their jungles, they went to war, and in war, they fell. When their slaves realized the skirmishes were only serving to thin the numbers of the enemy, they turned on their masters. Fought by both their slaves and their enemies, the men and women of Chlorine fell quickly as they turned from raiders to raided. After a set of bloody battles in the main villages of their enemies, they were the only ones left standing in the region, left with even less than before their God had visited them. In exchange for bodies, however, came an increase of worship, and they thanked their God faithfully for helping them cleanse the region.

Death was just, and all were equal in his view. The tribe of the Buzzard knew that their God took care that their deceased traveled to their final rests, and to die was not a disgrace, but an honor, as Death would take you in his arms. They knew that the animals they preyed and stole from the predators too had been given to them as Death took their lives. Death was just, and all were equal in his view. The tribe was content, and several smaller groups joined them, bolstering their population.

Blood and carnage. The wolves seemed to enjoy it. Kenea'allor, who had taken part of the name of his God as the pack honored him by choosing him as the next Wolfmaster, took them out for hunts. Their prey was prone to putting up a fight, but for him, that was not an issue. For every monster the enemy killed, the twisted animals sent the most frightening howls through the woods, deteriorating their nerves. Sometimes, they killed themselves, too afraid of the games the wicked animals would play with them before striking the kill. Kenea'allor was not sadistic by nature. He was, however, practical: His prey suffered.

The Lady was a Goddess she respected. For her personality. For her actions. Mainly, however, for the challenge she provided. The Daughter enjoyed games, and so she assumed the role of the false God the Lady had her prophet preach. Every prayer that her snakes relayed to her, was fulfilled before she became aware of them. From prayer for rain to muttered promises of loyalty to Ogdi for pacifying a wild animal, she masqueraded as the false God and fulfilled them. Fanatically devoted to this fake God, the tribe rejected the idea of the Lady Elti had started to try and spread among them. The Sunrise Forest people eventually sent the confused prophet away in doubt, as she pondered how her Lady could answer their prayers, yet not convince them that she was, in fact, the God they had been worshiping. Elti had grown old, and she doubted her weary heart would survive her mistresses' rejection.

Isra had carried out the task her masked master had given her faithfully since his last visit. In the dreams of the tribes she visited she placed the masked figure of her God. Sometimes, she was banished and rejected by the tribes she visited. Other times, she left confused and fearful men and women. Only at the end of her journeys did she find a village that would accept her dreams. Contrarious to what she expected, these people, the least gullible she had found, did not resist the idea of her God. As the years passed and her body began to show the signs of a slow but certain death in the form of sickness, she educated and single girl, teaching her the secrets of dreamwalking. Wary at first, but enthusiastic in the end, Isra taught her not some, but all of her secrets. Her death struck the girl, Ynara, as a disaster. Although young, she set for the tribe Isra was born. She arrived to find it prospering still.

The storms had claimed several lives, but most people of the Tribe of the Anglerfish were left unharmed. The fish that had washed up the shore soon turned to decay, and little food did they provide them with. Their resolve, however, had grown. Telling tales of the girl he had witnessed on the cliff, the fishermen had enthusiastically prayed to their child-like goddess. As soon as the fish started decaying, the fishermen- and women had refrained for fishing for food, laying down their spears to carry as much up the cliff as possible. After almost a week had passed, the place their goddess stood during the storms was decorated with the remains of their catch. Hungry after their display of devotion, they continued their lives, finding that the sea seemed even more full of fish than before.

Darkness? Horanias, the Chieftain, laughed heartily. No, he would not call it darkness. When their prey struggled to see their own arms and legs, they clearly made out the contours of these very appendages. And then impaled them. The tribe of the Owl were not aggressive. They were defensive still. This did not take away, however, the fear of their enemies. They had proven to no longer be the hunted, instead taking their revenge during the nights, when their enemies were almost blind. They accepted the surrender of those that had once hunted them, and they took them in as their own, teaching them about the God that had guided them. Only one task did they struggle to complete. While they had improved in battle and their tactics, they had not yet solved every problem. They did not know how to record their memories. They did not yet know how to store their food. Their attempts proved futile, and many of the more difficult problems that presented themselves, were left unsolved.

It had taken time for them to learn, but in the end, they did. The Tribe of the Butterfly had adapted to the river, which turned out not to be their enemy, but their friend. First, they plucked its spoils passively, harvesting whatever they could before the river destroyed their spoils, and then profiting from the increasing amount of plants it left. Then, they started helping those plants. They preserved the seeds of the blue- and redberries that grew there so often, and they planted these seeds in the ground after the river had flown its destructive course through the valley. They were inefficient, but these first attempts at agriculture had yielded them some gain. Only recently had they planted this year's seeds. This time, they had tried something different altogether. The grains that they had buried underneath the silt would be the deciding factor, this year. Would this crop fail, and would they starve? They hoped not, praying for Sei'imeri to favor those crops.

Some Champions last until time claims them. Others fall in battle. Some Champions die heroes. Others die forgotten. Ahyra was Championed by Lavos. Unlike others, she died sooner than expected, trusting too much on the iron she held. When she had returned to her tribe, she was challenged by its Chieftain to a duel over the treasure she had found. The Chieftain did not last longer than the first hit, and she instead was proclaimed Chieftain. Wielding Destruction's Edge she led her tribe on a warpath through the region, wiping out tribe after tribe. Celebrating her victories, she grew even more thirsty for power. Her tribe growing through the spoils of their raids, she attacked the largest of the tribes. During a short skirmish between her raiders and a small group of hunters that had discovered them in the woods, she was struck in the eye by an arrow. In their retreat, the raiders left the scythe in the dirt, after attempts to carry it proved futile. Sadly, some heroes die anticlimactic.

While most tribes were led by quickly replaced Chieftains, the Tribe of the Raven found that theirs were long-lived and skilled. Only three Chieftains led the tribe during the decades that passed, only ever bearing a single son. Wise and resilient, these leaders grew grey, dying only by the claws of time. Their tribe was careful, efficient, and their advantage over the other tribes in the area was significant, but not extreme. They were wise enough not to stand out too much, yet clearly set their presence. Other tribes went out of their way to give the Tribe of the Raven just that bit more space they required, avoiding conflict altogether. The Chieftains of the Raven were known in the region as wise, and other chieftains came bearing gifts, asking for advice. Many a conflict was resolved peacefully through their negotiations, or, if they found one side to be right, to advice or even aid them in war. Although sparse, the visits to the tribe of the Raven managed to spread worship of Alcinoe through the region, with several tribes containing at least one passive worshiper.


Chlorine was not a wise God. In fact, he had made his first mistake. For this, he woke up in a dream; unable to find his way out. Sparse lighting illuminated the cave, finding its origins in a fountain, brightly colored, yet distorted and grey. The cave was overgrown with moss, and there were signs and drawings on the walls, some unreadable, even to a God like Chlorine, others easily recognized as picturing and detailing the events in the world. From the spring sounded a voice, distorted by the sound of rushing water.

"Welcome to my realm."


About fifty years have passed.

Kinaré observes.

The Tribe of the Hawk gains territory by fending off aggressive tribes in their area.
The Tribe of the Hawk starts appointing 'Artificers'.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

The Artificer is appointed by the Chieftain, chosen from young and promising tribesmen (no women). The Artificer makes and improves weaponry and tools for the tribe, and he is the only one allowed to carry the Stone of Ingenuity. They also advice the chieftain, and are on almost equal footing with him. They often play the role of mentor of the chieftain's children. Artificers are tasked to invent and develop new techniques. When they die, they are replaced by the chieftain in the Ritual of the Hawk, where the chieftain choses another promising young tribesman.

Following the the tradition of the Artificers, the Tribe of the Hawk improves their weaponry.

Chlorine disappears from his tribe, carried away by Kinaré in his dreams.
The Tribe of the Vulture wages a war on their area, enslaving most tribes.
The Tribe of the Vulture faces the final tribe in their immediate area in battle, where their slaves turn on them. After several bloody battles, the Tribe of the Vulture is the only one left standing, although their population dwindles.
The Tribe of the Vulture starts worshiping Chlorine far more enthusiastically.

Death's good care of his responsibility to guide the dead to his realm slightly increases the resolve of his worshipers.
Death gains the divine responsibility of guiding the dead to his realm. (He actually already had that, but for some reason it wasn't in the wiki, so I'm adding it to be sure.)
Several smaller clans join the Tribe of the Buzzard.

The Wolfmasters of Droth'allor add " 'allor " to their name in honor of their God when the pack of Fufor wolves select them.
The Wolfmasters start hunting humans from other tribes, bringing them home as food. They develop terror tactics to break the nerves of their prey.
The Tribe of the Wolves does not increase in size, although their hunts force other tribes to migrate away, increasing their territory.

Kinaré takes up the guise of the false God Ogdi, masking even her godly presence.
Kinaré heavily aids the Sunrise Forest Tribe, ensuring they worship the false God.
The Sunrise Forest Tribe rejects the ideas of the Lady, banishing Elti.
Elti, now an old woman, returns to the clearing she had last met the Lady, unsuccessful and full of doubt.

Isra, the Dreamwalker, travels for several years before finding a tribe that accepts her. She spreads Mahet's ideas there, and teaches Ynara, a young girl, all her secrets.
Isra dies of old age, and Ynara sets off to find the Tribe of the Lynx prospering.

The Tribe of the Anglerfish offer all the washed up fish after the storm to their Goddess, not eating anything themselves for days.
The Tribe of the Anglerfish prosper from bountiful catches of fish, their population growing quickly.

The Tribe of the Owl manage to gain prominence in the area they live in.
The Tribe of the Owl start attacking nearby aggressive tribes in retaliation.
With the defeat of a few aggressive tribes, the Tribe of the Owl finds a small influx of new tribes-members.
The Tribe of the Owl struggle to make any technological advancements.

The Tribe of the Butterfly suffers from famine.
The Tribe of the Butterfly names their river 'Sei', after their goddess.
Sei'imeri gains the divine responsibility of keeping the river's seasonal flooding steady.
The Tribe of the Butterfly develops rudimentary agriculture, planting berry bushes near the river.
The Tribe of the Butterfly recover from the damage the famine caused to their population.
The Tribe of the Butterfly attempts to plant their first grains.

Ahyra challenges the Chieftain of the Tribe of the Tiger, defeating him in battle. She is the first female Chieftain.
Ahyra, Champion of Lavos, manages to successfully guarantee prominence of her tribe in the region by wiping out several stronger tribes.
The Tribe of the Tiger attacks the biggest tribe in the region. Ahyra is the only casualty, dying almost instantly from an arrow to the eye. She dies without children. Destruction's Edge is lost in the jungle.
A new, less talented chieftain, takes control of the Tribe of the Tiger.

The Tribe of the Raven establishes a strong leadership through the blessed bloodline.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

No chieftain shall get more than a single son, and this son will carry the blessing of his father.

The Tribe of the Raven manages to gain influence in the region by solving petty conflicts and giving advice to other tribes.
The Tribe of the Raven prospers as other tribes start paying them tribute.

Chlorine wakes up in Kinaré's Cave. (Although he does not, of course, know its name yet.)

Code: [Select]

Altair: 1
Alcinoe: 1
Anea: 1
Chlorine: 1
Droth'allor: 1
Druw'Lrunhike: 1
Kath: 1
Lavos: 1
Mahet: 1
Sei'imeri: 1
The Lady: 1


[Iituem]

"You have failed me, Elti."

There it was.  An eternity had passed since last she heard it, but the Lady's serpentine hiss could not be mistaken.  Elti shut her eyes, feeling the fear well up in her chest.  Her feet drew unconsciously beneath the boulder upon which she sat.

"Lady, I beg your forgiveness."

"I did not come to hear you beg."

Elti tried to picture the glade around her, unwilling to look at the viper almost certainly snaking its way towards her.  She could hear the soft slither of its scales against the grass.  There had been sun.  A clear sky.  She could feel the mottled warmth of the sunlight against her ancient skin.

"I tried, but they would not listen!"

"I did not come to hear excuses."

Sunlight.  Warmth.  A gentle breeze, rustling the trees as softly as the scales of the approaching serpent.  She could hear birdsong in the distance.  Yes.  A perfect scene to die in, and so much to look forward to.  A release from the aches, from the pain, from the lifetime of servitude.  Peace, at last.

"Then I am ready to die, Lady."

"I did not come to take your life."

A hand on her shoulder.  Elti opened her eyes again and saw the copper-haired Lady looking down on her.  The Lady's smile was not kind, hers was not a face that kindness seemed possible to exist on, but it was respectful.  The Lady's hand was cool, like snakeskin, by comparison to the light.  She withdrew it and sat on a boulder opposite Elti, one that had not been there before.

"I came to thank you, Elti.  You have ever been my most trusted servant."

Elti snorted.  "If you wish to thank me, Lady, you may take away my pain.  It has been a more constant companion these last years."

The Lady's smile tinged with something balanced between pity and gentle amusement.

"That is the domain of another.  I cannot take your pain and I cannot your age.  I could take your life, but your service is not yet complete."

"Pah!"  Elti reached for the length of wood that served as her walking stick.  "To the ashes with you and your service, Lady!  What has it brought me but aches and banishment?"  The Lady motioned for her to stay.  Elti found it hard to refuse and in any case did not much fancy the rigours of standing again.  She rested the staff back against the boulder.

"You changed your clothes," Elti remarked.  The Lady's garments had indeed changed.  Though still made of red snakeskin, the cut of the clothes had shifted to a more modern style.  The Lady ignored the comment, responding instead to the one before it.

"It brought you power of a sort, security, purpose.  You have lived, Elti.  You know what lives are like without it.  See how fervent the Sunrise Forest people have become, now that they have purpose."

"Oh Lady, that is where I have failed you!  I could not get them to think of you, only of Ogdi."

"And that is where you failed me, Elti.  Did I not make it clear to you?  I am Ogdi.  You were never meant to try and convince the people of me, your path was to know the truth and pass it on to your daughters."  The Lady frowned.  "Another failure; you were too devoted to one of my tasks that you did not follow the other.  Or perhaps the Sunrise Forest men were too intimidated by your erstwhile power, when you still had it.  It does not matter now, we can make up in some ways.  Are you ready to serve?"

Elti found to her surprise that she had begun to cry.  Thin rivulets coursed down sun-baked, barklike skin and she felt her chest seizing from sobs.  She reached out one hand to steady herself with her staff, trying at first to contain the tears and then surrendering wholly to them.  She cried.  She cried for the life she had spent in service, for the opportunities she had never taken, for the futility of her efforts.

Time passed.  Elti seemed to simply run out of tears, leaving a pronounced hollowness in her chest.  The Lady sat by, not moving once to assist or condole, but neither to berate or condemn.  When Elti had grown silent again, the Lady spoke.

"You may end your life here, in this grove.  You will join your father in the next place.  I will not stop you, I will even help you.  You will have your peace, and the world will continue.  Or you can complete the service I have apportioned to you.  You can pass on your legacy to daughters new.  Your end will not be peaceful, will not be serene, but it will make a difference.  There's your choice; Peace or Meaning."

Elti's tears tried to come again, this time from anger over regret, but there were simply none left to flow.  Her fists balled until her nails threatened to cut through her skin.

"You-  You-!" she tried to scream, choking her own words with the effort.  Again, the Lady seemed unaffected, if anything slightly unimpressed with her display.  "You arrogant bitch!  You just sit there, and you know, you know what I'm going to say.  I hate you, Lady!  I hate you for ruining my life, for saving me when I should have been killed by that mob!  I hate you for giving me your so-called purpose, for damning me with the belief that it all actually meant something, that it made a difference, a belief that built me up and then lost me everything.  And now you want me to go on with my last few years and spend it so some other poor souls can do the same thing?"

"Yes."

"Why?!"

"This is the nature of strife.  Serve me or not, this is how the world will be, Elti.  Pain, anguish, violence all stem from it.  All stem from me.  But think of what strife brought; action, change, purpose.  Your life was not in vain, Elti.  You were like one part of a trap to catch a beast, or the grinding stone to sharpen a knife.  Everything you have done is a step toward the greater change, a design you are not aware of and do not need to be aware of.  To serve me brought you strife, good and ill, but you were its master even as I was yours.  To complete that service will fulfil your purpose, will end your debt to me.  You may pass into the next world truly unencumbered."

"Not good enough, Astra'lith."

The Lady's eyes slitted again, as they had five decades before, and her skin mottled to a deep red.  She seemed to grow larger and more sinuous, and her teeth took on the appearance of fangs.

Elti stared her down.

"And what, you'll kill me?  For your wounded pride?  Do it.  End me.  Send me to the next world, away from pain and service.  All you've ever given me is words, Lady, and that isn't enough.  Make me a real offer.  What can you do that could possibly convince me to keep going?"

The Lady's aspect slowly receded from its more monstrous appearance until she was almost human again, save her eyes.  She stared back at Elti like one predator judging another.  Elti picked up her walking stick and started to rise.

"I will spare your tribe, the tribe of your birth from destruction."

Elti froze, half-standing.

"My- my father's tribe will be destroyed?"

"It is inevitable.  All things pass.  Do this for me, Elti, and I will ensure that they live on."

"Swear it."

"You presume to-"

"Swear on it, my Lady.  As you made me swear to serve you.  Swear on your name."

The Lady hissed, an expression of irritation more than anything else.

"Very well, Elti.  I so swear.  But now you must fulfil three tasks for me."

Elti finished standing, wincing at the clicks of her spine.  "Name them, Lady."  The Lady stood as well.

"You are to journey to the Sunset Hill people, to the Wind Rock people and to the Grey Lake people.  In each of these tribes you will choose a girl, and you will initiate them in my service.  You will tell them your father's story, you will tell them your story.  You have my permission to speak my name to each of them, once, that they may pass it to their daughters will the appropriate respect.  You will not tell any girl about the others, but will teach them to receive the prayers directed to a false god and send them on to me as you did.  You will have each of them spread the word of one of these three gods; Cawpaw, Parrot God of Splendour; Tirchid, Deer God of Nimbleness; and Mangang, Monkey God of Rage."

"But each of the girls will know the truth of you, and worship you in truth."

"Yes.  Second, I will teach you a special skill.  You will learn how to calm serpents with the sound of your voice, to milk them of their venom.  You will learn also how to keep the venom fresh for many days by mixing it carefully with the sap of the Egtok tree.  You will teach this skill also to the girls, that they may pass it on.  You may coat javelins and daggers with this venom, and it will bite as hard as a viper in battle, or will kill most cruelly if eaten or drank.  I give you this gift because you no longer have the strength of a python to fight; now you will have the bite of a viper instead.

"Finally, you will return to your own tribe.  You are to tell them that you bear a message from the Lady; that their tribe will be destroyed.  That the four winds will carry warriors into their midst to destroy them, and that when the day comes they will fight hard but they will fall.  You must tell them to pass on this story to their children, who will face this day, and that when the days come they must trust to the Lady and her children to guide them to safety.  On that day, the people of the Viper will scatter like serpents from a broken nest, but they will find refuge in many places and I will watch over them."

"Is that it?" Elti asked.

"Yes, but be warned.  It is not likely that you will survive the final task.  People do not like to hear ill preachings of the future."

"But you will hold to your word?  If I do this for you, you will save them as you promise in this prophecy?"

"Yes, Elti.  I will."

Elti nodded.  "Very well, then.  Teach me what you must."


Elti remained in the glade for some days as the Lady taught her certain words and sounds that would calm different kinds of snake from attacking, then the trick of catching a snake mid-bite that it might spray its venom into a leather pouch for keeping.  Elti learned to gather the bark of the Egtok tree, to crush it for its sap and mix it in with the different venoms to keep them fresh.  She learned to coat her weapons to make them more deadly, and when her training was complete she set out to find her new apprentices.

After Elti had left, the Lady remained corporate for a time to enjoy the luxury of independent thought.  She had lied to Elti, of course; the Lady had done none of Ogdi's miracles, though she had not wanted Elti to spread word of her in any case.  No, there was another out there.  Not Ogdi, certainly.  There was no Ogdi, of that she was sure.  Still, something else, some other power as great or she or greater liked to work behind the mask she had made.

How powerful was this unseen force?  Powerful enough to masquerade as a god, yes.  What about as two?  As four?

The Lady had made her move, but her limited influence was growing to an end.  She released the form she had suspended and returned her consciousness to the subhuman awareness that was her divinity.

The Lady teaches Elti the skills of serpent-calming, venom-milking and a trick to preserve venom for use.

The Lady instructs Elti to find three girls in the Sunset Hill, Wind Rock and Grey Lake tribes and teach them the truth about and worship of the Lady, and to instruct them to spread the false religions of Cawpaw, Parrot God of Splendour; Tirchid, Deer God of Nimbleness; and Mangang, Monkey God of Rage.

The Lady instructs Elti to teach these three girls the serpent-calming, venom-milking and venom-preservation skills Elti was taught.

The Lady instructs Elti to deliver her prophecy of doom and exodus to the Viper Tribe.

[forsaken1111]

Death was pleased, a rare thing indeed for emotion to touch His black heart.

Did He even have a heart? He mused over the idea for a moment before deciding that He did, but only if He chose to have one.

He felt the cosmic inertia surrounding his duties, the careful tending of the dead and guidance of their souls to His realm. He had heard the request of the one called Lavos, but half a century had passed before He had considered it. Death waits for no man, they say, and it was true. He had vanished moments after Lavos made his request without answer or action, Death had duties to attend after all and could not wait around.

A realm within His realm, constructed for the specific followers of a particular god, with entry requirements and subjective judgment of worthiness.

This requires a mind, and a system. Such a thing cannot be approached lightly, nor left to sort itself out. Nor did Death think for an instant that Lavos had half the mind required to construct such a thing on his own. No.. Death would see to this, as He sees to all things related to the souls of the deceased.

Still upon the grim plains, Death steps from the mists before Lavos. Though 50 years had passed upon the mortal world, this is but the blink of an eye for a god.

"I have heard your request and considered its implications. The answer is no. You may not create here, this is My realm and it shall feel only My touch. Describe to me the place wherein you wish your followers to spend eternity, and I shall see it done. This is my only offer."

Death stands before Lavos, impatiently awaiting an answer.