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[King_of_the_weasels]

Tawk awoke once more, he could still hear the sounds of the machines, not as loud as before, but they still existed, past the seas that surround his mountain home.  Other places were being decimated just like his home was, he could not sit idly by while these crimes continued.  To protect what was left of the True Mountain, Tawk leaped and clawed at the surrounding islands until they were splintered and made jagged, and nearly impassable. Content with the defenses he produced Tawk traveled on the surface of the oceans towards the larger continents.  He ran through out the continents kicking up earth and stone in his search for the metal monstrosities he hunted.  In his haste he dug through the earth creating canyons and caverns across the plains and mountains.

At his arrival to the Nameless Forest, Tawk spotted the being Slask, fighting the Unliving.  Drastically outnumbered, but fighting regardless of his many wounds.  Tawk joined the wolfman in his slaughter of the Unliving, though most of the forest had already been cut down.  As a gift of his bravery, Tawk plucked out one of his own fangs and buried it in the soil, and using his spirit imbued the plant to grow faster with dark grey bark and large pepper shaped fruits.  Inside the fruits were jagged seeds as strong as his own fangs.  The bark tougher then steel when heated, but as flexible as the wood of a yew tree.   This was gift to Slask, and to anyone else worthy to harvest it's wood.  Tawk let out a great howl expelling the fruit from the great tree spreading it across all four continents, though it would take a decade for any of theses seeds to even sprout and centuries for it to even grow to half the size of the first.  And with his task complete, Tawk left the woods and hunted the lands for unliving for another century.

Believing that the threat has been eradicated completely (whether he had done it himself or not). Tawk returned to the island of the True Mountain and climbed it's peak.  Tawk looked out into the world as far as he could see, believing it to be safe, and with one last howl, turned to ebony.  It is said that anyone willing to traverse the sea and then the dangerous shoals of the True Mountain's Peak and climb it's treacherous slopes would receive a boon from the hound as he had given one to the now god, Slask.

But Tawk did not sleep, he was still awake, his spirit watching over the planet, as he should of done in the eons before, but this would not last.  Seeing his wolf cousin ascend into the sky and explode into a great ball of blue fire, Tawk howled at him as he followed him into the abyss, combusting into an awesome ball of green fire, unlike any other in the sky.

-Tawk destroys the out lying islands around the True Mountain and creates jagged rock spires to deter others from voyaging through them.
-Tawk travels the world kicking up dirt and stone creating canyons and other geographical features.
-Tawk as a show of respect, helps repopulate the lost forests of the world by planting one of his own teeth, and growing the first ironwood tree.  Who's bark can be tempered like steel, but remain as flexible as yew wood, and who's seeds are the titan's own fangs.
- Believing that all the unliving have been slain, Tawk Returns to the True Mountain, and unleashing one more mournful howl, turns into a statue of ebony.  It is said that anyone courageous enough to make the journey to the sunken mountain, may receive a boon from the statue, formed from the bounty of the mountain.
-After his death Tawk followed his cousin to the stars and created an identical green star.  People born under his star tend to be more adventurous and willing to try new things then people not born under it.  During the month of Hound's Night, Tawk's star is at it's closest to assist the living with pulling through the hard winter yet to come.

[vagel7]

Roln, awaking from his state of limbo gave out a fierce cry. He could feel the other titan's actions for they were hard at work in forming this world to shape their wishes. He spread out his powerful wings and with a wing stroke that sounded as thunder he took off. Flying around he could see the changes being made, the wishes of titans fighting against one another. In the sky he could see numerous starts, crafted by the titans.

Finally stopping above the sea he would circle an area many times before plummeting like a dart right into it. Roln went all the way to the bottom and into the earth below he blew his infernal flame, so hot that it would cause the water around it to steam away, creating a dry bubble which engulfed Roln. When Roln closed his mouth the area around him became to quake. It quaked and then shot up in a pillar to the sky. Around the pillar, the sea would boil and rage on, producing different size pillars and spikes as far as the eye can see. The water would boil for eternity.

Next Roln flew high into the sky where again he released his breath. This caused the sky to roar out in pain and strike down in red bolts. It would rain down acid and powerful poisonous black storms would engulf his created domain. Roln was most pleased as he had created, Hades.

-Roln rises pillars and spikes from the ocean, making the surrounding area boil.
-Roln shoots out to the sky and makes it deadly for living creatures.
-The area where those two anomalies meet is Hades, the future domain of the dragons.

[thatkid]

Years had passed. Aeons. And Feomybring had returned to his vigil.

He watched the deep ones receive their punishment for the wisdom they had been granted, even as the clockwork men fought and killed on the land.
He watched his brothers and cousins work their will, and as Olot and Tawk joined the stars he loosed a single, mournful whine.

And then Feomybring, once one of three, was alone. The other titans, those that remained, matter not to him.
They would die, he knew, but that did not matter. Now, his time had come.

The dragon had awoken, and with it destruction had come.

Once more Feomybring swept down from the skies, rushing along the lines of life and power which had been etched into the land by the Stone King. And where he ran the power ebbed and flowed behind, shaping a realm of wisdom and knowledge, a land of the mind.
And into this world, a bright copy of the other before the Dragon came, he pulled the Chimaera, wisest of creatures, guarding them in this dream place.

Next he traveled back along his path, creating portals and paths, hidden with all his cunning so that only those with the true knowledge may travel between the worlds.

Then at last, tired by his work, he retreated to Asin, closing the portal behind so that none might defile that last verdant place.
And here he came to rest in the form of a great sapphire icon, hidden in the lush jungles of that planet. And those who might find access to the place, and travel there, would gain from him the same boon he had granted to the three long ago.

But here Feomybring was alone, separated from his brothers. And so in time he too chose to join the stars. And so he went, above the worlds once more to watch, and took his place as a star like any other, though brighter than the rest.

-Feomybring forms an alternate plane to house the Chimaera, guarding them against the acid rain and boiling oceans. This place is formed of the thoughts and dreams of the sentient, mirroring the real world and housing vast knowledge.
-He then creates a series of hidden gates and paths, presumably so that only those who know of them may enter this alternate reality.
-He closes the portal to Asin before turning into a sapphire statue. Those who travel to it may gain a boon of knowledge and magical prowess far above that of any of their peers.
-Finally he takes the form of a star, the same color as any other but far brighter. Those born under Feomybring are more prone to thought and intellectual pursuit, wiser than their years would indicate and, on some rare occasions, naturally given to magic. When the Fox's Eye peers upon the land the world will change, a transition between the month's of his brothers.

[vagel7]

Roln was pleased with his domain, it would be paradise. This paradise however, needs creatures that could live in it. So he decided to create his kin, dragons that would rule this world. Although they won't be gods or titans, they would still be beings of extreme power and in Hades they would always have a safe haven.

Roln, standing on top of his pillar ripped off his wing and cast it into the chaos below, he then did the same to the other wing. Next Roln scraped the scales and flesh from his left side, next to the hearth. The blood, scales and flesh was cast to the chaos. From the chaos emerged -dragons, in all variations of colour and size. Creatures of vast intelligence and power, they would be the rulers of this world, enjoying it to it's fullest.

Weakened by this Roln laid down on his right side. There would be one final thing for him to do. He let his blood flow out of his body, casting Hades into deep red, no god would ever enter his domain.

Finally feeling death crawl closer he made sure to award sapien champions. Slowing his hearth to a near stop he returned to Limbo. Although he could never enter the living world on his own again, he left something for the bravest and strongest. Whoever would make it to his body and drink the final drops of blood from his hearth, would receive power of immense magnitude.

-Roln creates the dragons, creatures that would rule Balin
-The blood seeping from Roln's body made Hades forbidden to gods.
-Whoever can drink Roln's last drops of blood will receive the ultimate gift, eternal life and power that is unimaginable.

[NUKE9.13]

The clock counts. The hand nears the Numeral Tick, and the end of the age of Titans.

Tick grows tired. Rust and decay have begun to affect his extremities. The spark is weakening; it can no longer support his entire body. Soon he will no longer be able to walk. Soon after that he will no longer be able to move at all. Soon after that, he will no longer be able to think.

Before that time comes, he must ensure that balance will be maintained.

The moons have been sealed. The powers they contain barely affect Balin now. But whilst Tick is too tired and weak to break these seals permanently, he knows of ways to open them. And he can teach these ways to the UnLiving. He bids those scattered remnants on Balin gather once more, and set to work on their most ambitious project yet.
From the deepest depths of the earth, they take the rarest minerals and most precious gems. Of these substances rarely seen on the surface they build the machines; deceptively simple. A large disc, approximately 15 meters in diameter, in three segments.
The outer ring measures the abundance of life on Balin; it resonates with the pulse of life in every living thing. When life is abundant, the ring spins clockwise. When life is scarce, it spins counter-clockwise.
The second ring measures the abundance of death on Balin; it every pulse of despair released when life of extinguished sets it in motion. When death is abundant, the ring spins counter-clockwise. When death is scarce, it spins clockwise.
The inner circle of the disc has a hole in it. The hole accepts a key- which can be anything from a sword to a staff, or even an actual key- smithed of the same materials as the disc. When the key is inserted, the circle can be spun in either direction.
When all segments of the disc are spinning clockwise (and life outweighs death), a portal to Sepin will be opened, and the elements and denizens thereof given access to Balin.
When all segments of the disc are spinning counter-clockwise (and death outweighs life), a portal to Asin will be opened, and the elements and denizens thereof given access to Balin.

Three times the UnLiving forge thrice three of these discs (27). These are placed throughout the world; installed in hidden shrines built where lines of power cross, with devices to channel power from the lines to the discs, and mechanical guardians to protect the discs from idle wanderers and those who would destroy them. They will stand down in the presence of the disc's key, though.
The keys are also distributed throughout the world; as that only entities with the power, ambition, and wisdom to find a key and the disc it belongs to may summon the force of the moons.

(Have the UnLiving) Create and distribute the Moon Discs, powerful devices which can summon the forces of Asin and Sepin when needed (that is, the forces of Life or Death).

With the last of his energy spent, Tick made his last steps across Balin. He was barely watching where he walked, now. An UnLiving scout told him he was walking across Imsisa, westward, and that soon he would reach the gulf between it and Imsatium. Yes, that was right. That was where he would stop.
Now he could feel the sea, rushing between the two landmasses. The salty winds corroded his body even faster. One leg had already failed, and was dragging along the ground uselessly, leaving a massive gash through the land. He made to make one more step, into the ocean, so that he would sink away to the depths to die, but as he did so another leg collapsed, and he fell back onto the land. He struggled in vain to stand once more, but only hastened the collapse of his remaining legs in the process.
So; it would end here. But a short distance from the shore, rusting in the sea air.
No. He would not rust. One last act before he slept forever; to be buried in the earth. He bid the UnLiving which accompanied him cease repairs, and focus on burying him.

"TICK", he spoke to them, urging them to work ever faster. His legs were buried, then his torso was pulled into the earth. The UnLiving began to suffer as well, as the force of the spark- the divine energy which they too relied on- began to dwindle.

"TICK", he repeated, urging them ever onwards. Work, build, dig, work! The UnLiving responded as best they could, and his torso was buried too. The spire, which held the clock, began to be pulled down also. But the UnLiving fell as they worked, their energy spent.

"tick", he whispered, as his consciousness faded. Work. Work. Work...

The hand of the fourth face struck Tick. A bell rung. The spark faded. The titan died, his last order echoing in the wind. Work. Work. Work.

His servants, the UnLiving, could not hear it. They too stopped, without the spark of Tick to keep them running. Perhaps where the Lines of power ran strong, they might survive a little longer, but those too would cease operations without a goal in mind. Tock and Click, the rebels, might survive a while longer also, supported by their own knowledge, but they too would not last forever, not without the spark that gave them birth.

But the words of Tick were spoken in a tongue all creatures speak. From the fish in the sea to the birds in the sky, the trees of the forest and the beasts of the plains, they all heard his orders. 'Work', they heard. So work they did. In the area surrounding Tick's grave, life flourished. Their 'work' consists of eating and reproducing, so that is what they did.
Sentient creatures, however, place more meaning on 'work'. When they visited the grave of Tick, and saw the spire jutting from the shallow hill, and the clock thereon, they would be filled with purpose. Farms would be built upon the fertile land. Houses; villages; a city. They would build mines and forge metal. They would seek knowledge as that they might work harder. In every age, no matter which race, no matter what their god said, there would be a city upon Tick's grave. A great city, famed for its craftsmanship. And, of course, the clock tower. Clever men would find ways into the spire. They would find the steam engines which ran cold; and they would stoke the flames and fill the boilers. The Clock would survive where Tick did not, in the middle of a city which 'worked' as per his orders. 

Death act: die on the Imsisa side of the Imsisa/Imsatium gulf, and leave behind an order to 'work', causing sentient creatures to build a city there. Steelspire, Clocktown, Twoshores; it may have many names through the ages- but it will always be there, with the clock tower always at its center.

[Iituem]

The Unliving, responding to their master's call, descended upon Balin in droves.  With machines capable of predicting the movements of the portals and devices to hold them in place, armies of machines tore across the five continents bringing death and destruction in their wake.  Forests fell, fields were laid barren, creatures both thinking and bestial were slain.  The tree towns and island homes of the Windriders were toppled or crushed by devices both tall and airborne.  The huts of the Chimaera were crushed beneath iron boots.  Even the ruined cities and the few survivors of Uldum's children were assaulted by harpoons and rust-proofed automatons.  Machine outposts and forward bases were set up all across the surface of Balin.

The other Titans were not idle in defense of their world.  Seeing how greedy the Unliving were for metal and coal, Tawk gathered his power and sank the True Mountain (and with it the entire continent of Imrihamun, save the peak and a few outlying isles) beneath the waves.  Uldum, enraged at the failure and disloyalty of its creations, slew the whole race of Deep Ones in one final, terrible act.  Their spirits, bound in suffering, travelled to the moon of Sepin and there laid waste to the knowledge repositories, the factories, those Unliving who had remained upon their home.  With its dying gasp, Uldum sealed away the portal to Sepin and so deprived the Unliving of any way to procreate - for all those Unliving tasked with construction of new bodies and the factories they had used were sealed away in the moon of death.

This done, Uldum died.  His body decayed into the darkest shadow of the ocean and his Essence, his spark of being, returned to the world.

A clock ticked.  Life.  Power.  Air.  Earth.  Water.


The Unliving invasion crumbled.  With no reinforcement the surviving warriors and engineers drew back to the safety of their outposts, conducting repairs upon themselves and their great master.  In this way, they escaped oblivion.

The bright fortunes of the Windriders had failed.  They were reduced to barbarism, scrabbling through tree and sky for food and shelter.  Such a race could be held in contempt - and so they were, by the Chimaera.  The tall, mighty beings, made in the image of the conquerers who had slain so many of them, took the Windriders in as slaves.  In this way, they too escaped oblivion.

Tawk, seeking to protect the True Mountain, shredded the outlying isles into shards and pillars of jagged rock, making the surrounding seas all but impassable.  A way existed through the morass, but only the brave and daring could find it.  Tawk then hunted the Unliving for many years, with only the best hidden escaping his wrath, and in so doing left a trail across the world of great canyons and rivers.  Tawk surrendered one of his own teeth to birth the first Ironwood tree and spread it across the world, then returned to the tiny isle that was the peak of the True Mountain and died, his body becoming a statue like his brother, promising a boon of wealth to those who might reach it.

A clock ticked.  Life.  Power.  Air.  Earth.  Water.  Courage.


Roln burst forth from limbo, having slept near two ages, and began the creation of a realm for his own children.  Just off the coast of north-western Imulu he raised great pillars and spikes from the ocean and forced a permanent storm of acid around his demesne - a storm that only his chosen could survive.

Feomybring, fearing the spread of this nightmare realm, created a dreamworld to conceal his creations.  Many Chimaera chosen by Feomybring were concealed away in Nerin, the dreamland.  This bright world, formed of the dreams and thoughts of the sapient, housed great knowledge for those who could find it - but the paths and gates would reveal themselves only to the wise.  Seeking to protect what else he could, Feomybring journeyed to Asin and sealed the portal after him.  Like his brothers, he too died and took the form of a statue, promising wisdom to those who might find it.

Tearing his wings from his body, Roln bled and cast his scales into the maelstrom below.  Formed from these were the dragons, mighty creatures of fire and scale; keenly intelligent and possessed of flight and fire.  These beasts alone, immune to the acid rain, could live upon the spires Roln had made.  Roln died from this act, and his blood saturated the waters around his realm, Hades, making them forever boiling and red.  Roln's body lay upon the highest spire of Hades, a sacred shrine to his children, but whosoever should pass them and drink the last drops of blood from his heart would gain both power and life eternal.

Far above in the night sky, three stars burned brightly at the heart of three constellations; the Fox, the Wolf, the Hound.  Each of these constellations travelled across the sky as the year passed, marking out eleven of the twelve months, with the twelfth bearing a dark void in the stellar display.  Those born beneath Olot, the bright blue summer Wolfstar, might be granted great strength.  Those born beneath Tawk, the blazing green autumn Houndstar, might be blessed with a yearning for adventure and discovery.  Those born beneath Feomybring, the brilliant white giant in the spring sky, would show wisdom and wit beyond their years and perhaps a gift for magic.  And those born beneath the Void might gain strength, courage and wisdom at the cost of sanity.

A clock ticked.  Life.  Power.  Air.  Earth.  Water.  Courage.  Wisdom.  Fire.


The clock neared the last of nine numerals on its outermost face.  A great and ancient thing lumbered towards a shore, its iron body rusted and decaying.  A limb collapsed, then another.  This last, great being, had borne witness to unnumbered turns around the Sun - unnumbered except for on its face, which numbered all times.  Anticipating its death, the thing had called its minions to create three times three times three discs, buried in shrines across the world and guarded - discs with the power over life and death.  The keys, too, were scattered where only those wise, brave or strong could find them.

Yet the fourth hand of the clock was nearing the final numeral.  The aged iron beast called out to its tiny minions to save it from the indignity of decay.  They worked and worked.  They worked until the clock reached its last tick and even thereafter others would work upon the spot forevermore.

A clock ceased to tick.  Life.  Power.  Air.  Earth.  Water.  Courage.  Wisdom.  Fire.  Time.



The Third Age

And then, just as smoothly, it began ticking again.  The outer face of the clock receded into the machinery of the clocktower and another face slid out in its place.  Thus began the Third Age, and the clock held its prediction and recording of things that even Tick had never known.

Time passed.  Ice thawed that had gathered during the Second Age and the seas rose, claiming the lower lands.  The subterranean creatures of the Apsu (greatly reduced since the sinking of the True Mountain) selected heavily for competition for the limited space below ground, giving rise to a plethora of incredibly deadly creatures below the surface.  The Chimaera, their creator long departed, gave themselves a new name; Humanity.  They spread far and wide, building towns and crafting kingdoms and principalities with Windrider labour.  The greatest of these was Tockspire, built upon a fertile island rich in materials between Imsisa and Imsatium.  From here, the Tockspirian king commanded a merchant dynasty that ruled the northern waves - advised, it was said, by a man forever wearing a metal mask.  This figure supposedly taught the king many designs for ships and weapons to expand his dominion.

The dragons, too, found a use for the little flying mammals.  Windriders were bought and sold inside the peaks of Hades where they could be protected from the dangers of Roln's demesne.  There, under the supervision of the dragons, they carved tunnels and chambers for their draconic masters, producing works of art and craft too fine for draconic claws to manage.  The dragons kept only one true city, beyond small holdings across the world.  Proud as they were, only the high peaks of Hades carved with their elegant homes would do.  The Dragon Emperor ruled his people with an iron fist, trusting few but his closest advisors - one rumoured to be a human with an iron face.  This man was said to have given the secrets of magic to the Dragon Emperor.

Rampant as crime and disorder might have been, the dragons had one disadvantage that humans did not.  Running frequently through dragon blood was a sort of insanity.  Dragons might be born without the ability to exist, to operate as a civilised being.  Such creatures were little more than animals.  Others only descended to this state at a later stage in life.  Common as these cases might be, dragons displaying this bestiality were slain on the spot.  Thus their race was kept small, but pure.

Yet these two giants of civilisation could not coexist forever.  The Dragon Emperor and an alliance of human kings eventually came to blows over the incursion of humans into draconic lands and the raiding and rampages of dragons raiding human stock.  War broke out and a minor struggle became a quest of genocide.  Dragons swore that humans must be wiped out, humans that the draconic menace be stopped for good.  Terrible and bloody was the war, fire and destruction razing to the ground the settlements of Man whilst ship after ship fired mighty missiles at the peaks of Hades, slaughtering the less numerous but vastly more powerful drakes.

Sacrifices were made on both sides.  The numbers of humanity dwindled rapidly before the draconic onslaught, but equally the dragon population fell.  The Dragon Emperor discerned that they had one weapon kept unused - the beast dragons, though insane, were formidable fighters.  It was a sacrifice of their dignity, but with these additional forces the dragons might win the war.

So, in fact, they did.  After many years, the last of humanity breathed its last.  The race of Chimaera were wiped from the earth, all but a handful of their settlements razed to the ground and little evidence of them remaining save for thousands of mass graves.  In time these would be buried beneath more and more layers of earth, only the faintest hint of the barrow mounds remaining to the naked eye.  Many humans tried to escape to their ancient refuge, Nerin, but those that were not lost trying to find the passages were met with the truth of a world made from dreams; if so much of their kin dream only of death and destruction by dragonkind, that is exactly what they will find within.  Those that did not flee back to Balin died within, save perhaps a very few who found refuge in that terrible place.

The Dragon Emperor's victory had come at too high a price.  Beast dragons now outnumbered the sapient dragons and they bred at a higher rate.  Already some were killing the true citizens of his empire for dominance... or taking them as mates.  The offspring of such terrible unions were beasts like their forebears.  It was only a matter of time before only one pure dragon remained, sitting on his throne and waiting for the end to come.

Tick.  Tock.  Chimaera.  Dragon.


Sapience was not lost from Balin.  The Windriders survived the war, hiding and fleeing, but less than a few thousand emerged, all on Imartu or Imsisa.  They lost the trappings of civilisation and became hunters and gatherers of the sky and the forests, so backward they forgot even the secret of fire.  So they remained for three thousand years after the fall of the master races, keeping to Imartu, the southern tip of Imsisa and the Coriolis Islands that floated between them.  Many of the ruins were covered over by earth, and those that remained on the surface seemed little more than strange rock features, perfectly ordinary to those that knew them.  It would take more inqusitive minds to penetrate these secrets of old.

In the thousands of years that passed since the Age of Titans, the Essence released by their deaths had pooled, focused by the ley lines.  The lives and experiences of so many sapients had fuelled the birth of even more essence, yet all the power lacked form.  With no physical shape as the Titans had possessed, any beings of Essence$ would have to be formed by another force - such a force was that of the mind.

The windriders told stories to one another; stories about the past, about the future, about where things came from and what they were.  They gave things names, not only things but ideas of things - to birds and beasts alike.  The raven they called Promidalchus, and told a story of how it ruled the skies, judging beast and bird by the strength of its claws and wings.  The weasel they called Jilganheim and told jokes of how the crafty beast would stir up trouble in the realm of beasts.  The crows they said had two names; Orseth for the little crow that would hop around whispering lies and secrets into the ears of the unready; Utran'Vitran for the great crow that would feast of the carcasses of slain beasts and the murdered, that would whisper anger and hatred into the ears of the willing.  Imber, the shark, ruled the waves with a mighty tooth.  Kain, the mole, was the quiet master of the soil and all beneath the earth, whilst the mighty bear Dolrael was lord of the surface and the strength of earthquakes.  The golden lizard Tokchoko, for its glittering skin, was thought to be born of the Sun.  The peregrine falcon, Aeolos, fought with Promidalchus that he should rule the sky whilst the raven might keep to his forests.

And amongst those stories was one last trapping of memory, a hint of the ancient past.  The story of a beast, great and terrible, called Slask.  A great being, part wolf, part windrider, who stalked the forests as their protector.  In this, such a beast did exist but not in Imartu or Imsisa.  Slask, protector of the forests roamed the Nameless Expanse in Imulu, across the sea.  The being that would inherit its name would have only the faintest of connections, but one that might become important in a great many years to come.

Stories are made of but words, yet a story told by the right person in the right place at the right time may have profound effects indeed.  So it was that a great storyteller sat upon a simple looking mound in Imartu and rehearsed a story he had been preparing.  It was a strange story, for the storyteller had journeyed all across the land to the different nomad tribes and learned they stories.  In this story he combined their tales as one, a great poem that would tell of the powers and triumphs of all ten of the great beasts.  As he recited this poem for the first time the storyteller could not have known that the mound upon which he stood concealed the entrance to one of twenty-seven lost vaults.  He could not have known that he stood upon a node of the ley lines where ten streams of power connected.

He could not have known that by his words and his belief, the gods would take form.

In ten different tribes across Imartu and the southern cape of Imsisa, dreams appeared to particular men and women.  In the swamps of south Imsisa, a dwarf crow whispered promises of power and intrigue.  In the swamps even further south, a carrion crow urged a violent tribe to war.  On the long western shores a shark appeared, heralding the bounty of the sea.  At the edge of the mountains a raven heralded the power and terrible danger of nature.  Deeper into the forest below a wolf spoke of its bestiality.  On the northwestern shore a mole spoke to a gatherer picking grains by a river.  In the northern forest, where earthquakes often rocked the sunny hills nearby, a bear promised the power of the earth.  By a lake where krakens slumbered a weasel offered a change from the norm.  On high mountains overlooking a dry, sparse steppe a peregrine falcon told people to look to the sky.  At a fork in a lonely river in the dry steppe itself, a golden lizard basked in the sun, showing the way to prosperity.


All gods have 1 Minor Act.

Spoiler: World Map, Turn 1 (click to show/hide)

relative size = 1 pixel: 40km

Spoiler: Local Map, Imartu (click to show/hide)

Relative size =  1 pixel : 20km

[micelus]

Her birth was a quiet affair. One moment she had been nothing more than particles of existence, the next he was soaring the dark night, as a diminutive black bird.

For her first moments, she had simply thought she was a bird, living to survive. But she found that he felt no hunger, no need for sleep nor a desire to mate. She tried to join the flocks of her kind, instead of a call of acceptance that he expected, they sent a call of service the moment they saw her. Perplexed as he was, she accepted them and lead them on their travels. It was ignorance of her true calling, but it was bliss.

But all happiness eventually comes to an end. One day, as she soared near the fetid swamp waters, she saw the winged-apes. His flock had told of them; brutes and fools who chose to walk when they could much easily fly. She had shared their sentiments, but these ones made her curious. They were still on land, but they were doing something to a bush of reeds...Twisting them, tying them, and cutting them. He concluded that there were making some sort of tool; her flock had made many such things, no reason the apes couldn't. She watched a while and saw that it was nor ordinary tool. It was large. Large enough to carry all the apemen gathered (four) and it floated on the water. It was interesting, but what's the point? He watched yet longer. They traveled the swamp waters, using a long stick to propel themselves. They went to the trees that grew only in the deep water and stopped. They froze, looking a it's roots, underwater and hard to see as they were. What could they possibly be doing? Then they threw their tools into the water, and brought out fish! She looked at the fish- it was the fish of tough blue scales but delicious flesh; rare to find. But these apes made it a simple task of waiting! Perhaps there was more to watching these "stupid apes".

For a many a month, she watched the apes, going about their hunting and building and speaking. She watched them grow, watched them build, watched them cook, watched them eat. It was intriguing...And then she felt understanding...His purpose was to teach, care, and manipulate them. She knew now that he was a diety, great and powerful, not just a bird...She would whisper, and he would guide...

The village was asleep, save for a few watchers, making sure that the tribe remained safe. The dwarf crow scampered into the hut of a youth. Young with ambition curiosity and happening to be the chief's eldest son, he would do. She hopped towards his ear, careful not to awaken any. The dwarf crow tapped the youngling's head but once, and flew off.

Orseth gives the chief's eldest son dreams of distant lands and far away places. She guides him in the dream to seeing all these places-by becoming stronger. He will see that the only way to do this is by traveling the waters...and taking from the waters. He sees that they must raise the fish they hunt and use these for meal and tool. Teach the tribe aquaculture through the dreams of this youngling.

[adwarf]

Kain's birth was a violent one, one moment he was a simple thought flowing through the Leylines, and the next he felt pain. It was excruciating pain, as the earth broke to pieces around him, and he was forced to the surface in an explosion of divine energy. What he found was not empty grassland, rolling hills, and a flowing river, but a lone ape-like creature towering above him. Instead of causing him harm the being lifted Kain up, and placed him in a nearby burrow before walking away. He suspected it was returning home, and thus he followed it. He came to the creature's home, and dug inside of it where he came face to face with it once again.

he spoke, and the being understood "I am Kain the God of the Earth, and for your kindness I have decided to make you my Prophet. I will grant you the ability to control the earth, and prolong your life by many years." The creature looked at him, and replied "I accept. My name is Lilith Reso." Kain gave the creature a nod, and the room filled with a small amount of divine energy as he gave the creature the ability to control the earth with the power of the Leylines, and extended its life by nearly thrice its original length.

Make Lilith Reso my Prophet. Gift her with the power to control earth, Making her the first Geomancer, and extend her lifespan by 3 times.

[NUKE9.13]

Ah... Tokchoko remembered. Tokchoko the lizard remembered sitting on this rock ever since the man had told his stories. Tokchoko the thing... remembered more. He remembered- or knew- how the stars had looked a thousand years ago. He remembered the paths of the moons and the rise of the sun.

Highly esoteric knowledge. Not very useful, really.

Except if you are a clever lizard like Tokchoko. Who knows that today, in a few hours time, the moon of death will cover the sun completely, bathing the world in a red-tinged-darkness.

One of the upright creatures approached. Tokchoko, not to be outdone, stood upright also, using his tail for balance. The windrider looked at him curiously. The bright white scales of his underbelly shone in the sun, nearly blinding it.

"Lo", spoke Tokchoko, in his silly high-pitched voice,"Do you know who I am, mortal?"
The windrider looked briefly surprised, then replied, "You are a lizard"
"Not just a lizard, fool, I am the lizard, Tokchoko!"
The windrider narrowed its eyes. "Prove it"
"Such insolence! Very well. You know that I, Tokchoko, can swallow the sun and spit out the moons?"
"Of course"
"And you have seen me do so, in the past? That I brought a moon before the sun and bathed the world in darkness?"
"Ur, yes"
"Then I shall do so today. You will bring me to your village, and I will swallow the sun, and all shall know that I am Tokchoko!"
The windrider looked thoughtful for a moment, then shrugged and grabbed Tokchoko by his tail. "If you aren't Tokchoko, we eat you, okay?"
Tokchoko frowned.

Later, Tokchoko sat upon a rock just outside of the windrider's cave. It lay in a gully near the banks of the river, providing shade from the midday sun. There were a few tents around the cave, but for most things the cave was enough. Why would they want more?

"Lo!", spoke Tokchoko, to the assembled masses, "Hear me mortals, and know my name, the name Tokchoko!"
In the background, a child laughed.
Tokchoko narrowed his eyes, but continued. "Today, I shall prove my power to you, by swallowing the sun and spitting out the moon!"
The villagers looked sceptical.
"Heed! For I shall bring forth the moon now!"
The villagers looked around. Then one of them glanced up at the sky, and nudged the others. For though it was hard to see yet, a tiny sliver of the sun was disappearing. And as they watched (blinking furiously and often turning away to recover their eyesight), the moon crept over the sun, obscuring more and more of it. The land too began to darken, and soon, the village was in darkness, and the sun was fully obscured by Sepin. A few beams of light shone through the atmosphere of the dead moon, bathing the world in a dirty red light.
Tokchoko, now in a slightly less ridiculous voice, spoke again. "And there we have it. The sun swallowed, and a moon spat out in its place. Do you believe me now?" 

Tokchoko tricks a tribe of Windriders into worshiping him by correctly predicting a solar eclipse. And spends a little divine power to prevent the villagers from all going blind from looking at the sun too long.

[Fniff]

"Papa?" The boy named Tomas tapped on his father's shoulder, who was fishing. "There is a monster in the forest. It's a wolf... but it walks like us."

"Oh for... Boy, no such thing. The Great Wolf IS a wolf, so it isn't like us." Father said. He threw his spear, and grunted. "You made me miss the fish. Go and get some wood, in the forest. Fight your fear."

Father did not exactly want his child to die, but it would be the only thing that would break him out of his childish fear and make him into a man. It would be necessary. He spent hours fishing. That child takes a very long time to gather wood, he thought. In the back of his mind, he painted a picture of his child being horribly mutilated. He ignored it. Tomas must be fine. He had to be. It was around dark father got worried. He asked the tribal leader to send out a search party.

"And what, get ripped apart by wolves?" The leader sniffed. "This is your own problem, you have to solve it. We cannot lose men."

Father argued. What if he went missing? What if there is something out there that is nastier then a wolf? The leader ignored him. Father felt angry, but he had to obey the leader. He grabbed his spear and searched for Tomas.

The good news was that he found him.

The bad news was that his picture was right.

Hanging upside down, vine wrapped around his ankles. The vine was attached to a tree. Deep, huge claw marks on his chest, legs and eyes. His guts were all over the grass below the tree. He died in the most painful way possible. On Tomas's stomach, there was four, well carved words.

"I DID THIS - SLASK"

Father fell to his knees, and screamed.

Kill a child, mutilate him and string him up as a way to make people worship me.

[vagel7]

A five man crew had been fighting this storm for hours now. They were in a measly raft and the storm had taken them far from land, but still their leader -Ludwig, was keeping the morale up. In this watery hell, Ludwig was giving out orders on what to do and injecting the men bravery, something that he seemed to have high quantities enough. Truly, it seemed that he was a man of no fear. However, no matter how hard they were fighting the storm they weren't prepared for what came. They were hit by a giant rouge wave, it smacked them right over the heads. It left no trace.

from the depths Imber had witnessed this, he had seen Ludwig bravely fight against the sea before as well. He swam up to Ludwig and injected him with long lasting life and knowledge. When Ludwig opened his eyes, Imber spoke.

"Do not fear Ludwig. I am Imber, god of the seas and you will be my prophet on the land. Serve me well and I will award your people with knowledge that is worthy of the best."

Finished with his speech and happy with the nod from Ludwig, Imber told him to grab his fin and Imber took him to the beach, a bit away from the village.

Imber made Ludwig his prophet, gave him long lasting life and took him to shore. The knowledge was about the sea, engineering, weapons and fire.
 

[Ghazkull]

The life was slowly seeping out of the creature below him. The Crow had watched it now for a while, how it writhed and turned. It's natural intelligence told it that the being was finally to weak to defend itself. unceremoniously it landed on it's stomach and dug its claws into the weak skin. Suddenly the being began to scream again. In a mix of annoyance and interest the Crow cocked it's head. The screaming was unpleasant. The reason being that it attracted more predators and scavengers but the Crow didn't know this, it merely reacted and tried to stop the unpleasant noise.
There was no ill intent, no malice towards the dying creature, merely the next rational step to ensure that the Crow could feed without being disturbed. It's beak picked into the eye. The being screamed louder. Why wouldn't it stop? The Crow hacked again with it's sharp beak, the screaming became louder. The speed of it's picking increased in symphony with the the volume and the desperation of the screams.

Something in the act changed, the Crow became now frantic too and suddenly pictures flooded into it. Memories of the creature below it. How it had chased a mammal with one of it's flock. A viscious hunt but at the end they had killed the mammal. But then the pictures became discordant, the creatures screamed at each other, enraging the Crow, it further increased the movement of it's beak further. But more and more pictures flooded into it in a wild,bloody cacophony. Ire, Wrath, Hate, a stone spear, a scream, blood, so much blood. The Other creature had ran away, left this one behind, it lay there, since hours, days it had forgotten how long. And more and more pictures flooded into the Crow of the life of it's victim of feelings, colours smells, it all became so agonizingly loud.

And suddenly they had vanished, it became silent.
The Crow was back in front of it the corpse, a hole gaping into the brain where once had been clear blue eyes.
The silence was so very beautiful.
 Eerie...it feasted a while on the corpse and then decided to visit the generous donor of this feast.
___________________________

Tran was dragging back the corpse of the warthog they had slain. "He had slain" he corrected himself. Nobody may know of what happened to Gat, nobody may ever know. He heard a loud croak in front of him, he grabbed his spear tighter but loosened it again after he saw that it was merely a particularly big Carrion Crow. It stared at him. That was however quite unsettling. With the butt of his spear he tried to chase it away. It didn't react in the slightest manner. This time he hit it's legs, with an angry croak it started at him and ran it's beak into his left eye before he could react. Screaming he stumbled backwards but the crow held on to him. Pictures flooded into him. About the poison in some of the plants, of  blowguns, about a strange stone in the deeper parts of the swamps, about him killing the Chief, him being the new Chief, a host of hunters and how they descended upon another tribe, about blood and war and slaves and death. Of Fire and corpses and engines of war and...the pictures became too fast for him, things he couldn't comprehend things that...he screamed in agony now hit by two pains: the physical and the mental. Suddenly the Crow released and with a loud croak it flew away.

Utran rips the eye from a hunter and shows him visions of him killing the Chieftain in a duel, of poisoned weapons of raids, hit and run tactics, of military strategy and it also fills him with the essence of the hunter he had killed, doubling his lifespan and strength...

[King_of_the_weasels]

The ape sat upon the cold dirt floor, the only light coming from the stars above.  He was upset, but would allow tears to flow.  His hands bound behind him and tied to a stake driven into stone, his legs bound together, blood caked his nose and lips, as well as his knuckles.  Suddenly he heard laughing.
"Who goes?" the ape bellowed, "Taunt all you want!  I care not." Suddenly the laughing stopped and a voice spoke.
"Don't mind if I do." It said, and continued to laugh.
"Laughing in the darkness, like coward." the ape grumbled and yanked upon his binds.
"A tied up slave, seems counter productive." The voice said, coming from his opposite side,"Perhaps you sing?"
"I do not, and will not." the ape tried to spit, but his mouth had long been dry.
"No.. no I thought not.  You did something wrong?" The voice laughed, "You're not a very good slave are you?"
"I am slave only in title, no one owns me." said the ape, though his voice faltered into a defeated tone.
"And no one should, so what did you do?  Refuse to work?  Try to escape?" The voice pestered.
"I killed the master's son." the ape's words filled with hate.
"Hm.. robbing one of life, is far worse then a life without freedom." the voice sounded displease in the ape's actions.
"I did not mean to kill him, he simply got in the way." the ape corrected.
"So it was an accident?" the voice queried.
"No." the ape stated bluntly.
"Well what is it!" the voice sounded annoyed.
"I didn't want to kill the boy, he refused to move." the ape spoke solemnly, as if filled with regret, "I was going to kill his father."
"Ugh, again with the murder, why couldn't you just escape?" the voice grew bored.
"This had nothing to do with my enslavement." said the ape.
"Then what?" the voice spoke once more.. but received no reply,"Well!?  OUT WITH IT!"
"BECAUSE HE LIED WITH MY MATE!!" the ape screamed into the darkness, and he was then met with no reply,"Who are you?" he asked.
"I assume she didn't invite you in on the fun?" the voice chortled.
"She had no choice, she did not tell me, I heard from others..." the ape finally let his tears flow.
"Oh..  I see... so it's like that." the voice said as the ape's binds came undone.
"What are you doing?  You will be punished." the ape stammered.
"Oh I wouldn't worry about that." the voice said as it revealed itself.
"A rat?" the ape laughed through his tears, "I must be going crazy, I've been talking to a rat."  The "rat" approached the ape, it's face pitch black.
"I'm a weasel, not a rat." it spoke.  The ape reeled back has he rubbed his sore wrists.
"Who are you?" the ape asked once more.
"You already asked that." the voice said.
"You did not respond." the ape said as he rose to his feet, towering over the god.
"Are you going to free your mate or not?" the weasel said as he turned towards the forest.
"I will... thank you." the ape thought for a moment, "My name is Aford."
"I don't care, and don't thank me." the weasel said, "Now if you excuse me I'm going to find someone less pathetic to mess with.  You're far too depressing."

Jilganheim, frees the Windrider Aford so he may save his wife and others from the tyranny of the slave driver. 

[thatkid]

He was the air. A cool breeze of wind, the gust of hot breath, the stillness of its absence.
He was a raven. Sleek dark feathers, quick cunning eyes, a beak drenched in the blood and ichor of a decaying corpse.
He was Promidalchus. Rage and anger focused, the urge to procreate and continue, what was right and natural.

Far below him, in a thatched wood hut, a man sobbed.

A raven flitted down, landed in the doorway, and watch curiously as the man pounded the earth with his fists, cried out his laments. "Dead!" he cried in his grief, "My wife, my child! Slain! And I am not a warrior, I cannot avenge them. I have always been the weakest of my tribe."
And at this, the raven could not help but laugh. It was unearthly, cackling. And at this the man quieted, and could not help but be frightened.

The raven hopped forward now, it was his turn to speak. "Yes, be afraid. For this is natural. Take your fear, swallow it. Do you feel that lump in your gut? Do you feel the urge to fly? Flee like a rabbit or a squirrel? Or do I have you cornered, do you fight? This is natural. Haha!"
The Raven would have grinned, if it could, and then it continued: "Yes, be afraid! But I bring you a gift! Take your grief and your anger, and you will have your revenge!"

And then Promidalchus loosed a great caw which shook the hut, and the man's grief and anger at those who wronged him swelled. They spread, from his very soul to his body and soon he was anger incarnate. He was wrath. He was rage. And this strengthened him, and he would have his revenge.
Promidalchus turns a grieving Windrider into the first berserker so that he might defeat his enemies and avenge his family.

[Shootandrun]

He was alive.

Dolrael was born quietly, a power rising from the earth and then possessing an animal. He was everything, and yet he was nothing. His powers could be infinite, but they depended on the beliefs of mortals. He looked around, and he realized that he was a bear. A bear was a peaceful creature unless threatened, but that could become mighty in his anger when the need was near. Dolrael agreed with the mortals. A bear was a good choice. He wandered, until he saw a village filled with mortal creatures. Windriders, they called themselves. Their clan was the bear clan. How appropriate.

He needed these mortals. Without them, he was nothing. If they stopped to believe, he would no longer exist. Some of the creatures of this clan believed in him, but most of them only thought that he was a simple story for children. He needed to change that. This clan suffered earthquakes often. The bear walked away from the village, to make sure that no hunter would attack him, and he waited.

After many days, he finally felt it. Power was rising in the earth. Soon, there would be a powerful earthquake in the surroundings. The villagers knew nothing about it yet, but he could feel it easily. He returned to the village, and as the earthquake started, he walked in. When he was in the middle of the village, surrounded by dozens of Windriders, he roared. The earthquake stopped instantly - and there would be no other earthquake for a long time, because Dolrael had spent nearly all of his strength to appease the earth in the surroundings. He waited a few seconds, and then he spoke. His voice was a low, powerful one; it suited to his animal form. The villagers understood him perfectly.

“I am Dolrael. I am the God of the Earth, and the protector of this tribe. As long as you will have faith in me, you will not need to fear the earthquakes.”

The bear walked away. The Windriders watched, and later that night they held a feast  - which means that they ate more fish and meat than usual - in his honour.

Dolrael stops an earthquake in the village of the Bear Clan, and appease the earth to make sure that no other will happen in the surroundings for some time. Tell them that as long as they have faith in Dolrael, he will protect them from the earthquakes.