Archon sighed with relief to see that his project wasn't ruined by Syv's sudden arrival. Though he expected more time, there was not much of a point in voicing such exasperation. "Hawke, leave us." With a snap of his fingers, the god ordered his bird away, which shrank on the way out to fit through the small opening in a nearby window.
With Hawke out of the way, Archon turned to face the intruders, feeling a pang in his heart when Smythe entered his view. Memories of the man bringing raw materials for the mortal Archibald to work with being recalled. "Well, hello there." Archon repressed his feelings of anger at the unknown entity that converted a good friend, mixed with the guilt that it was he who put Smythe in danger. Instead, the god defaulted to his more friendly face, a moderate smile attempting to create a comfortable atmosphere. "I am Archon, an..." The god paused for a second or two as he tried to come up with a description for himself that would appear modest. "...inventor of sorts. And you are...?"
It hadn't taken long for the Ursa to set off on its rampage of death and destruction. Mere hours after its creation, the monster had managed to make its way to a small town on the outskirts of the Northlands, and had in short order reduced it to little more than a pile of rubble and corpses. Those lucky enough to escape the beast's wrath had of course fled to other nearby settlements to seek shelter and spread the word about it, but no amount of warning or preparation was enough to stop the divine construct.
By the time news of the Ursa had reached Raetic's new home, the body count was already horrifically high and was showing no sign of slowing. The frightened peoples of the northern lands, unable to do anything to stop the beast from ravaging their homeland, desperately latched onto the rumors of a new god and his army of heroes. Surely they would be able to do something to stop the monster's endless advance, yes?
[hr]
"Right!" Raetic shouted aloud for all to hear. "Here's how we're going to do this!"
Standing in the center of a makeshift arena, the god slowly spun around, his cheerful eyes tracing over the crowds of people that surrounded him on all sides. Many of them were strangers, people who had fled here hoping to escape the Ursa's devastation. Others were natives of this village, the ones who, when they heard word of the tremendous bear, decided that maybe they weren't cut out for heroism, or at least the monster-slaying aspect of it. But they stood outside the arena's walls, and therefore they were of no use to Raetic. Let them serve as farmers and herders, blacksmiths and craftsmen; he didn't care what they did with their lives, so long as they recognized that he was the one who had saved them.
No, the people he cared about were those who stood with him, inside of the, admittedly quite small, coliseum. The ones brave (or stupid) enough to risk their lives for the greater good, to defend the innocent, and, most importantly, earn a bit of glory.
About fifty in number, it was an eclectic group that stood closest to their god. Of varying age and gender, and coming from any and all walks of life, they were all willing to take on any challenge to make their dreams of legend and glory a reality. And that was enough for Raetic. If he could have done so, he would have willingly given them all their chance to shine, their chance at everlasting fame. With their courage (and his divine powers, of course), they could have taken down any threat that might oppose them.
Sadly, he couldn't just send off a small army, not against a single bear, monstrous though it may be. The stakes would be so much higher, and the payoff so much greater, if it was only one hero facing off against an impossible threat...
Hence his instructions. "Now," the god continued, addressing the whole crowd but with an emphasis on those in the arena, "I know that all of you are prepared to risk everything to defend your homes and families, to avenge the fallen, and to make the world a safer place. And I commend each and every one of you for your courage!
"But," Raetic said, pausing just long enough to create a sizable throne at the very edge of the ring, "not all of you will get the opportunity to do so. Only one warrior, the greatest among all of you, will be able to prove their worth against this ever encroaching threat, this Ursa that has torn through the countryside unchecked for too long!
"And how will we determine which of you will receive this great honor? Simple! Through a test of strength and arms!"
Of course, the potential heroes were already well aware of what was going on. They had been outfitted with armor and dulled weapons ahead of time. Still, it didn't make Raetic's speech any less impressive.
"Remember," the god cried, "to use every bit of your skill and force! Rest assured, if you are worthy, then you will have my guidance and protection, no matter how great the danger may seem!"
Spinning on his heel, the deity began to stride towards his throne, making his way through the crowd of warriors clustered around him. "I wish you all the greatest luck," he continued, placing his hands on their shoulders as he passed, giving them a reassuring shake or two. "Show me what you are capable of."
Though a mortal eye wouldn't have been able to notice it, the god lingered for a fraction of a second longer on one of the potential heroes than any other. The man, young, tall, strong, and handsome, was Raetic's personal favorite to win the match, but just in case...
'A bit of extra luck for you, Wiglaf.'
A barely detectable burst of power flowed through the god and into Wiglaf, a stream of energy that centered around the man's heart. Slowly but surely, tattoo-like markings, glowing with an otherworldly light, would begin to spread across the warrior's body, forming words like "Power", "Strength", and "Victory". If Raetic's timing was right (and it very nearly always was), the markings would spread out from under Wiglaf's armor and across the rest of his body just when the fighting was at its thickest, just when he would need a boost of morale the most.
Smiling, the god finally broke through the crowd and made it to his throne, collapsing into the grand seat without another thought. Raising his hand into the air, Raetic only had one more thing to say: "Begin!"
Inspire a single mortal for the term of his life: DC 5, +2 Runes
Giving Wiglaf the strength he needs to completely assure his victory.
The smile behind the mask faded as the man expired.
Maybe she was taking things a little too far? Maybe she should stop with silly revenge and be the better person? 'No.' Her thoughts replied. Turn the other cheek that it'll just get slapped. They had played a dirty trick on her, bringing her back like this. Nabesh'i just relished the thought of returning the favour. Why not just do that right now? The man was just a lonesome traveler, but he was also her first follower. Nabesh'i wasn't completely heartless, that was just the mask she wore. Just a vicious persona she needed to achieve her goal. Nevertheless, the dissonance between that and her true personalty was increasing.
This was a compromise between the two.
Raise a dead mortal - DC: 7
Mhioden - Silverdock
So they were willing to give control of the ceremony to her? It was a nice gesture but ultimately one she would refuse. Mhioden turned to Aureliano and stated her answer, "Like Tremotino, I will have to say no. A secret isn't a secret if it is shared or shown."
It was a pity that they needed to be lectured on the nature of a secret, but at least the secret of the magpie-god would keep the bickering Merchant Princes together, just as it did for the Returners.
"So control what you like of the ceremony." She added, "The details have no importance to me."
"Huh, well would you look at that." Theodrid said absentmindedly to himself as he looked over the razor sharp shard in his hand. It was a weapon fit for a killer. "Have fun with that." He threw it to his errant knight, who's name he'd already forgotten.
"Th-th-th- thank you my... sir!" The mortal stuttered, almost ham handedly fumbling it into the mud. He wasn't sure what to make of it and judging by the strange looks from his companions neither did they.
Theodrid made a mental note to fix that knight's stutter if he could be bothered to later. He couldn't be seen to be linked to such comical types... not unless they were comical in some kind of imposing way which so far the knight was not.
What was his name again... something I couldn't pronounce. And that was saying something considering how the demonic language was translated into writing.
He quickly came across the village center. Like everything else here it was a simple affair. Taverns, stores, a town hall all the usual paraphernalia. It was so boring! What had happened to the mortal realm? Where were the blood sport arenas? Where were the wild beasts roaming the land for fresh pray? hell, they could have at least had a giant bear or something! What was wrong with these people, surely they couldn't have been happy with this?
And it was almost empty! There were only a handful of people wandering about the place and half of them were the onlookers from the face sculpting incident. This would not stand. Even in its current skin they should have thought that the demon was the liege lord.
"Ugh, how am I supposed to work under these conditions?" The demon sighed. He couldn't even think of a creative way to gather peons in such a rural environment, not without full scale riots or bandit attacks anyway. "Guess I could try the whole puppet trick again." Theodrid flexed his freshly claimed muscles and tried to reach out across the town through the ether.
This would either end brilliantly or terribly... or neutrally. So it could go anyway at all really.
Inspire a large group of humans (several hundred) with permanent, ongoing effects. DC9 Bonus: +2 (Flesh) Pulling the puppet trick from back in the mansion to pull people the village population to the town square.
Syv looked at its counterpart with a contorted brow only noticeable by the shift in its eyes. Though odd to see only a pair of eyes moving, the look of skepticism was unmistakable. Hadn't it just introduced itself to the other? Maybe this ?inventor? wasn?t as smart as the tiny god once imagined him to be. You would think that a tinkerer and creator would be a little more organized and put together, but there Archon was, divine proof of the contrary.
?Really?? the pint sized deity questioned.
With the most unimpressed look one could fathom, Syv turned away from Archon and began to find other, less scatter-brained things, to amuse itself with. All about the workshop were contraptions and gizmos of all shapes and sizes. Each creation was whirring, buzzing, beeping or humming in some fashion or another, marvels of artifice and attention grabbing alike. It was almost too much for the divine being to take in! Yet it managed and soaked up the information like a sponge, floating about to look at this gadget and that whats-it with gleeful curiosity. Then it hit it: it should try to make something like Archon did.
The prospect of owning its own creation was too good to keep the prospect solely within its mind. Swooping back down to the same level as Archon, the Mischief Maker found its own workbench to begin the work upon its greatest creation yet. With two opposite swipes of its arms it wiped away most of the clutter blocking the work space. Dozens of gear, rods and other assortments of widgets scattered themselves across the floor. The god then picked up a small copper pipe and a long pink crystal that gave off a soft glow, one in each of its sleeve covered hands. It then raised both pieces into the air, keeping them as far apart as it could manage.
?Stand back!? it warned in a perilous tone. ?I?m going to artifice!?
With all its strength it smashed the two components together, creating a brilliant pink light that washed over all the occupants of the tower. Within its mind it focused on what exactly it wanted to bring into existence and began to weave the threads of creation. What a wonderful thing it would be. What a wonderful trick it would become...
Create a -2 magic item. [+4 Trickery]
Casuistrious Chatterer- A solid bronze mask painted with one half purple and one half black. On the bottom half is a half moon shaped grin to mimic a mouth on the affectation. When activated, the mask bonds itself to a target and begins a running commentary on the target's emotional state and inner thoughts to anyone within earshot, hovering around but not straying too far from its chosen host. As an effortless action, the creator of the mask may apply a bonus to mortals as the mask keeps their ideas fresh or a penalty to the divine as needless reminders muddle their thoughts.
"Civilization!" The First Dreamer flung himself down on the bed, then turned around to grin at the knight he was rooming with. "Civilization! Real, actual civilization! And real, actual beds! Civilization!"
The knight gave him a tired smile. "Yes, sir. Civilization. Of course."
They had seen the first settlement early in the morning, a small smattering of farms and houses stuck seemingly in the middle of nowhere. However, as Skyjagg peak grew larger on the horizon and they grew closer to Reapak, villages and towns became larger and more common, until finally they came to an unbroken sprawl stretching for miles around Reapak. Soon, they had stood in the shadow of the mountain, on the long winding road up the Peak and into Reapak proper. If the knight with the best eyesight strained her eyes, she could just see it, in amongst the clouds, a ring of stone and steel set high on a cliff, gazing out at the unnamed city that had grown around it. If the locals could be believed, the Reapakians almost never deigned to descend from their fortress, aside from the occasional messenger, come to collect a tithe or dictate a new law. They wouldn't be so high and mighty, the townsfolk would whisper in confidential tones, if the farmers were to stop supplying them food, or block the road off. After all, if it was unassailable going up, it could very well be unassailable going down. Still, the conspirators would concede in slightly louder tones, the nobles weren't all bad. The Reapakians were fiercely loyal to their vassals (so long as their vassals stayed loyal to them), and the trade around the ancient city had never faltered, even in times of war. The Lady Alexis ruled with a just hand, as her mother had, and her mother's mother, and her mother's mother's mother, and so on as far as the people could remember.
An ounce of conjured gold had bought the First Dreamer and his knights several rooms in an inn called The Mountain, centrally located on the main road, with river views to boot. So, for the first time in weeks, they slept in real, actual beds, in a really, actually civilized place.
The army of Mortmire, however, marched on through the night.
The scouts had found the First Dreamer a couple of nights before. Now, the forces were but a half-days journey from the city. By late afternoon tomorrow, they would arrive. If the Reapakians responded with hostility, well, there would be blood at the least.
As the First Dreamer crossed between the threshold between the real and dream world, he found himself not in the hall in which he had been training the Mouths, but rather in an austere study, sitting across from a woman. Odanda sat next to him, legs crossed, reclining.
"Oh, you're here. Good. I was just exchanging pleasantries with the Queen Regent."
The Lady Alexis smiled. "She's given me very conclusive evidence that I've gone completely mad."
"Oh, don't say that." Odanda's tone became more serious. "I could make you believe, you know." The Lady Alexis felt a pressure in the back of her head. "It would be simple, really. The pressure increased, and now it was in her head, in her mind, digging through her thoughts. "I need only push... The pressure disappeared, and the Lady Alexis gasped. "But I won't. It must be known that Reapak accepted me of its own will, not because I forced it to.
The Lady Alexis, properly sobered, leaned forward. "Alright, fine. What do you want?"
"Let me show you." A barrage of images assaulted the Lady Alexis' vision: A ruined floor, a laughing man, and a deep sense of revulsion. "That is what I seek to fight. Another god, a demon residing in the Riverlands."
"And why should we help you? What does Reapak have to gain?"
"Safety. Without a doubt, the demon will set his sights on the mountains eventually. His destruction ensures your continued existence."
"Armies have broken themselves on the mountain for a thousand years, and will for a thousand more."
The First Dreamer leaned forward. "A million men could throw themselves at Skyjagg Peak for a million years and get nowhere. A single god could snap its fingers once and split the mountain in two."
"So what would you have me do?" she demanded. "Go to the Council and tell them a dream god has commanded me to take up arms? They'd throw me off the cliff!"
"No," said Odanda, "I want you to go to the Council, tell them a dream god has commanded you to take up arms, and then have an army march in to back up your claim."
"An army?!" And the Lady Alexis suddenly saw them, marching through the hills, a thousand strong, maybe 2 thousand, maybe 3.
"Yes, an army. Think of it as a persuasion tactic." Odanda rose, and her voice grew gentle. "The First Dreamer and I will leave now, to go amongst the dreams of the Council and whisper, make them more receptive to our arrival. Think on what I have said. I trust you will make the right decision." And with that, they were gone, and the Lady Alexis was alone.
Aided by the mouths, whisper to the council to make them more open to the Mortmirian army: Effortless
The obscure god threw his almost mocking question at Archon before immediately getting distracted by all the bits and doodads in the tower. When it started to mess with all the various devices, Proto approached. "Creator, the entity addressed you while you were working on Hawke, its name is Syv."
"Really?" Archon turned to face Proto in surprise. "Huh...I guess I wasn't paying attention." A loud crash from upstairs grabbed Archon's attention for a short time, only for him to shrug with the assumption he could fix anything that broke later. Time was of the essence, and the distracted Syv gave Archon an opportunity. "Anyway, here..." Archon produced a small spiral-looking device from his pocket. "...give this to Rickon, tell him to affix it to his ear." Archon looked up to keep track of Syv, still distracted in its messing up of Archon's work. At the same time, Proto descended to give the device to Rickon.
However, before the Automaton could finish his task, Syv finished his search of the workshop, swooping back down before Archon.
"Stand back...I'm going to artifice!"
With that, Syv flew over to one of the workbenches and started to crudely smash items together in the hope that an item would form. Archon breathed a sigh of relief, he still had time. The god looked down below to see Proto hand the device to the confused Rickon, who did was he was told and connected it to his ear. "Good, can you hear me?" Archon spoke in a hushed tone, but could tell that Rickon could hear him as the boy became startled and quickly turned to see where the voice was coming from. "It's the device, it acts as a means for us to communicate over long distances. Say something in a low tone, and I'll hear it."
Archon could see Rickon's lips moving and he heard the boy's voice like a projection into his mind instantly. "Like...this?"
The god nodded. "Yes, perfect. Now listen: this god is dangerous, he corrupted Smythe and then put a sort of enchantment on him. I don't want to risk your safety when I don't have to. Go outside, call to Hawke, its programmed to follow our commands. I want you to ride him, take to the sky and soar beyond the reach of my messengers. Go to the far-away parts of the Heartlands, to the homesteads and the small villages. Demonstrate my powers using the staff I gave you, convince them to believe in the future I promise."
Rickon paused for a moment, perhaps a bit overwhelmed with all that had transpired. However, to the boy's credit, he did not freeze up for long. Rickon quickly ran outside, past a rather unamused-looking cat, and snapped his fingers. Moments later, Enlarged-Hawke appeared, scaring the cat off. Rickon hopped on to the bird's saddle and quickly ordered it to fly, which Hawke obeyed with a couple strong flaps of its wings. Soon, they were both out of sight.
With Rickon safe for the moment, Archon turned to Smythe, appearing a mere husk of a man. He was mumbling something, words that Archon could not understand. As the god approached, he felt a wave of nostalgia rush over him. Memories of a young man who, while not wrapped up in the mystic feats of engineering, did seek to entertain the weary tinkerer when his spirits were down. "Oh, silly Smythe, look at what you've gotten yourself into." Archon waved his hand in front of Smythe's face, seeing that his presence almost didn't register to the man. "Though, it would be remiss of me to not admit that you never would had been in danger had I not sent you away. I guess I try to atone for that by freeing you from that god's wretched curse."
With that, Archon left Smythe for a moment, ascending the tower to find a deivce he had made in his off time. Syv's mess of things made it difficult to find, but eventually Archon found it: a short rod with a flat base, like a brand of sorts. It was actually his attempt to create his own enchanting device, but he didn't find a use for it...until now. As he came back down to Smythe's level, Archon made a few adjustments to the device, reversing the polarity and whatnot, the intent being to undo the enchantment placed on Smythe.
So, with words having already been said, and believing himself to be short on time, once Archon returned, he simply jabbed the device right at Smythe's forehead.
A time of year when the forest was beautiful, and drew in nearby villagers. Were they surprised when their children didn't return, little serenity ruining buggers? They had a terrible habit of throwing rocks at his feathered choir, and ripping the grass out of his soil. It annoyed, more than anything else, and they paid for it by staying usually.
Sometimes this worked out rather well.
Like today, when he took a stroll with a Druid of his, almost a shaman. The two strolled together, he remembered the boy was an early follower. He forgot how he got him, though, but now he was beginning to grey, and seemed to need the stick he carried with him, though he was thin and lean with muscle, with eyes almost like a hawk. That made sense, he usually turned in to one. The two walked in mostly silence by a creek, enjoying the sounds of the birds and beasts as they went about their day. Still, something seemed to be on his companions mind.
"... Speak." Ahlgren said quietly, after stopping and staring at him for a moment. He liked this boy, he never seemed to shrink under his gaze.
"I was just thinkin, milord, that those hunters you killed a while back were the first peoples we've seen in years. I think people'r forgettin we exist." Ahlgren raised an eyebrow, then looked around for a moment. He HAD been rather inactive, especially as of late. He needed more followers, to improve in power...
"I think I have an idea." Ahlgren spoke at last, looking to the sky. "What better way to learn of gaining followers than from another god? Perhaps if we even kill one, we'll gain their followers!" Ahlgren flashed his toothy, malicious grin as he looked to his, frankly, unimpressed follower.
The deity sighed, looking in to the creeks water. Instead of a reflection, like the Druid saw, he witnessed the actions of an individual, powerful with an army behind him... A god, it looked, but evil.
"I'll be in the Riverlands, to spread out my domain. I'll send for you if I need help." The Shaman nodded, and with that, Ahlgren was off, taking to the air with a trail of green dust trailing behind him.
Some of the assembled men exchanged quizzical glances, they doubted whether they could win the tournament and the others simply obeyed. Of course only the best should face the beast! Those racked with doubt were simply koncked out and were denied the honour of slaying the Ursa. Wiglaf was one warrior who nearly met that fate, but, with a roar, he knocked out whoever was in his path.
[hr]
Nabesh'i - The Dustlands
The body rose from the sand and let out a moan. As the mouth stretched, the edges of the traveller's lips seemed to unravel and disintegrate into tiny pieces of sand... No, not sand, ash. Whatever the case, Nabesh'i was now alone in the desert. It was fortunate that she didn't have to worry about thirst or hunger, otherwise that would have been the end of her as well.
[hr]
Theodrid - Riverlands
Hundreds of villagers walked rather large steps. Their legs were just being pulled by invisible stings... No it was like their very flesh was working against them. Different muscles inside their legs contracted against their will, but who was willing this? The answer came to them as soon as they arrived in the town square. Of course, it was the gentleman with the demonic grin.
[hr]
Syv - Swansdale
Despite the extremely crude method of production, the result was satisfactory. Copper even seemed to transmute into bronze without the aid of tin, although that might be another trick from the god of trickery. A grin that nearly mirrored Syv's own was plastered upon it. All the god had to do was say the word and the grin would become animated, as well as other things.
[hr]
Odanda - Reapak
The Mouths whispered alongside their mother, "Mortmire, Mortmire, men, many, maces, mauls, morningstar, meet, much much much, mediate, marvelous, mediate, maid-of-honor, magnificent." The Council's dreams were full of so many words and so many arms. One Alestair Rooke suddenly woke up during the night and raved about opening the gates, or something to that effect.
[hr]
Archon - Swansdale
The man didn't even blink as Archon thrust the rod-like device into his forehead. As it did so, the air around the device seemed to crackle with magical energy. It was Syv's barrier against Archon's brute force. Nevertheless, as with Syv, brute force was a winning tactic and the barrier gave way. Smythe simply groaned as he felt something poke him. The mortal wasn't out of the woods just yet.
[hr]
Ahlgren- Riverlands
A loud screech came from behind as a giant bird patrolled its patch of sky. A warning? Or perhaps a farewell to the forest deity? Regardless, the druid went back to wandering the wilderness, having denied civilsation. Ahlgren flew over the border than separated the two provinces as the commoners began to talk about the green trail in the sky, and what it meant.
[hr]
Mhioden - Silverdock
Just as the bird-god gave her answer, a guard burst forth with a rather worried look on his face. "Sirs and She," he said with a stern voice, "we have a revolt on our hands! The peasantry have got the idea that we kidnapped their little king of theirs! Listen, we have some time before they break the walls, but we have to do something!"
[hr]
[HEADING=1]Rolls[/HEADING]
Raetic - Inspire a single mortal for the term of his life [http://orokos.com/roll/143232]: 2d6+26
Nabesh'i - Raise a dead mortal [http://orokos.com/roll/143242]: 2d6+26
Theodrid - Inspire a large group of humans (several hundred) with permanent, ongoing effects [http://orokos.com/roll/143249]: 2d6+212
Syv - Create a -2 magic item [http://orokos.com/roll/143259]: 2d6+413
Archon - Break a weak enchantment [http://orokos.com/roll/143292]: 2d6+29
The mask was a thing of beauty. Syv could only stare in admiration of its own work, pleased as punch with its own creation. It had a new toy to play with now and what individual wasn?t overcome with joy when that occurred? The god even began a mock conversation with the artifact, as if it was telling him the deepest and darkest secrets of the three beings still within the room but never being specific as to what information the mask had divulged. For all the others knew, it was actually doing something and it wasn?t simply whatever child-like psychosis Syv seemed to suffer from.
?What?s that Mr. De Smith?? Syv began to say, holding the affectation up to what was presumably its ear. ?You say that Archon broke the enchantment on Smythe??
As the final words were spoken, Syv?s tone began to slowly rise in fury, its eyes slowly fading from their pastel blue and bleeding into a rage filled crimson. It wasn?t pleased. In fact, there had scarce been a time since its inception that the tiny god had felt so angry. Its body grew to loom over Archon, simply stretching like a long shadow in the setting sun. It teeth were barred in a terrible scowl, almost snarling as it held back its more instinctual urges. Revenge would belong to divine trickster -- there was no doubt about that in its mind.
?Whatcha doin?, Archon?!? it almost screamed, its frustration lacing itself into its tone.
?What am I doing?? the artificer replied, playing dumb to the scenario that had just unfolded, a twinge of nervousness still lingering in his voice.
?Yeah, whatcha doin??!?
?Just speaking with Smythe.?
?Speakin? with Smythe?!?
?Speaking with Smythe.?
?Foilin? ma? plans?!?
?Foiling your plans??
?Yeah! Foilin? ma? plans!?
?Of course not!"
"Good, cause that'd be bad!"
"It would be bad."
"Of course it'd be bad!"
"Just how bad?"
"I'd have ta crucify ya!"
"Crucify me?"
"Ya, crucify!"
"That would be bad..."
"Yu~p!"
The interaction had only furthered Syv furious demeanor, a dark fog billowing from the openings in its sleeves and from underneath the hem of the cloak it wore. Clearly the god was not impressed, especially considering Archon?s attitude about the entire ordeal. With a quick flick the Casuistrious Chatterer was sicced upon the divine artificer with little care for the results. For all the Mischief Maker cared it could ruin every single plot Archon hoped to achieve from here on out. The god then shifted its shape into the familiarity of being a shadow along the wall and began to slither its way up to the peak of the structure. Up and up and up it went, only stopping once it was upon the crown of the roof. As the divine trickster reformed its being, it looked out upon the land with a cold, uncaring heart and plotted its vengeance with an eerily sickening grin.
?If Archon wants ta start turning my subjects,? it cackled to itself, ?then I?ll just get too many to turn!?
In size the god had no peer as it grew to cover the entirely of the Heartlands, divine power surging through its being as it focused every last ounce of strength it could muster into its will. Its shadowy body cast and persistent darkness over the land, unfettered by any light from without or within the country. The monstrous visage it had chosen was ever smiling, a red glowing energy radiating from its gaping mouth and eyes similar to that which they had changed to when his rage began. As the throngs of people began to stop their daily activities and peer up at the impending doom within the sky, shadowy tendrils began to snake their way from the trickster?s body. They slithered themselves around each individual throughout the land, burying themselves deep into the back of their collective heads and wrapped themselves around each impressionable, mortal mind. Within he showed them the glories of a life free of rules or regulations. They would be permitted to do whatever they pleased within its land with no repercussions but the ones they created themselves. The life of fools and tricksters alike would reign supreme should they choose its ways. And they would choose its ways. It would transform the Heartlands into a land created in its own, twisted image of perfection -- a place where no man, woman or divine would ever grow bored as an eternal cycle of mischief and trickery
Yes, Archon would pay dearly for his insurgence?
Order the Casuistrious Chatterer to make Archon its host and activate its effect [-2 Focus]: Effortless
Cause an entire land to change it?s culture permanently with global effect (inspiring the Heartlands to follow Syv): DC 11 [+4 Trickery][+2 Domainless][-1 AP]
He believed that it would be possible to bribe Syv away from Smythe, to tempt with another, better follower, of his own design. However, he was undermined by the ache of seeing Smythe in such ravaged condition, and moved too quickly. Now, it seems like all was lost.
But Archon would be damned if he did not try.
So, Archon ran quickly through his tower, summoning his arms to scour it for supplies, materials, anything and everything. As fast as he could, Archon constructed a vast array that used his very tower as a conductor. The work was difficult, Archon had to focus past the whispers in his mind that sought to corrupt him. What it said, the god could not really hear, but it mere annoying presence was enough to slow Archon down. Reaching the top of the workshop, Archon could see all around him that Syv's darkness was thickening. If something was not done soon, the god would be robbed of all his followers.
Luckily, the array was completed, and Archon, with a wave of his hand, activated it. In an instant, the tower glowed with divine light, a beacon in the dark. Drawing its power directly from Archon, the array sought to produce a light to scour the darkness away.
Cause an entire land to change its way of life permanently with global effect (Have the Heartlands worship Archon over the Trickster God). DC:11 [+2 Magical Artifice][-2 Fucking Annoying Mask]
As he watched the brawl come to a close, Raetic allowed a small smile to crawl across his face. "Excellent."
With a slightly histrionic flourish, the god leaped down from his throne and nimbly alighted upon the ground. Strolling through the midst of injured, stunned, and unconscious bodies, the deity made his way to his champion. The fallen potentials would all get the necessary medical treatment to fully recover, of course. They were still perfectly serviceable; undoubtedly he could find some use or another for most of them somewhere down the line. They could be dealt with later, however. For now, he had a different priority.
"Well done, Wiglaf," Raetic proclaimed, letting his voice carry over the crowd and beyond. "Well done indeed!"
The god's grin grew wider as he scanned the warrior up and down, noting the cosmetic changes his power had bestowed upon the man. And judging by the crowd's surprised gasps, not to mention Wiglaf's own astonished expression, he probably wasn't the only one doing so.
The glowing glyphs that had spiraled across Wiglaf's left arm and cheek were ceasing to glimmer, true, but they were by no means disappearing. Thin, tattoo-like markings remained upon his flesh, dark and distinct enough to be read a few yards away, stretching out like stylized waves from the man's left shoulder, permanent signs of Raetic's blessing.
"This is... What-" the warrior began, his tone mystified, before being cut off by the deity standing before him.
"I had a feeling you might be able to do it, Wiglaf," Raetic began, paying no heed to the man's questions. Answers could be given later; for now, he had a crowd to please. "It's a shame that you were the only one to do so, but even one hero unleashing his potential is something to be celebrated!
"Everyone!" the god cried, spinning around to better address the entire crowd. "Here is your defender, the man who will lay low the cursed monster and make your lands safe once more! Here is your kinsman, my champion, Wiglaf!"
Pausing for a few moments, Raetic allowed the crowd just enough time to realize that they should be cheering, before turning to give Wiglaf an approving nod. 'Yes, he did good, but they're still subservient to me. Let them be happy, but make sure they know who's in charge.'
"And now," the deity continued, his voice drowning out all of the excited shouting, "for your reward, my stalwart solider!"
Slowly, dramatically, Raetic stretched out his arms, one hand extending towards the heavens above, the other towards the ground below. They had been a reason he had chosen this spot for the arena, after all, namely the large amount of iron found just below the surface...
The god pushed out with his will and power, stretching them out both up and down. Beneath his feet, the earth began to crack and crumble as a rough, metallic shaft poked through the dirt. High above his head, the clouds began to roil and twist, taking on a dark, almost pitch-black color and rumbling with thunder. He held that pose for a few seconds, a look of sincere concentration upon his face.
Then, with a mighty shout, Raetic brought his hands together. The iron rod was pulled from the earth, a good seven feet in length. Simultaneously, a bolt of lightning tore down from the heavens, arching towards the shaft at the speed of light.
A thunderous peal split the air for a moment...
Creating a -2 Magic Item: DC 5, +2 Runes
Major and Minor: Bane of the Ursine: -2 Bear-Slaying
A long spear engraved with countless symbols, M&M is a tool designed for one purpose and one purpose only: To kill the Sunderspire Ursa. Forged by the same god that created the monster, the spear has been blessed with the ability to take the beast's life with even a glancing blow.
Outside of that, however, it's just a fancy looking spear.
"Welcome one and all!" Theodrid spread his arms like a circus master welcoming the crowd. granted this crowd were arriving rather jerkedly as their bodies betrayed them, looks of confusion and fear laced over their faces. Eventually they arrived at the town square a few people at a time and the hold over them was released.
Still no one ran, they were too busy looking around in shock and then they were too crammed in as the streets got more and more crowded. There was a general murmer of people wondering what was going on out loud, a few noticed the famous faces gathered around the grinning lord.
"Most of you know my suit as the Lord Theodrid and you may continue calling me that for now! My apologies for the rude awakening." He said without an ounce of an apology. "But in time you will come to appreciate what I can bring to this dreary place, why just ask my collection of cohorts or the smokin' hotty I left... somewhere around here.." It was good to have a congregation again.
Ahlgren's flight wasn't terribly long. It was barely even a couple of hours, though he chose to not fly over civilization. Too much desire to destroy, he wanted people to return to the forests, not the earth. Still, travelers and other such folk noticed his green path in the sky, his path to the Riverlands, where the closest god currently was.
It was the fourth city he'd flown close to, and he could recognize it as the one he was looking for. Why else would so many filthy peasants cram themselves in the streets to listen to a lone man speak? Ahlgren swooped down, landing as gracefully as he could on his feet, on top of the head of a villager.
"Good morrow, please, continue!"
The crowd was left in shock as a second strange figure made their day even stranger. For his part Theodrid raised an eyebrow and smirked. The world had gotten much more interesting since the olde days. Was this another demon? It certainly wasn't wearing any skin that he recognized.
"Who is in charge here? I want elders, councils, mayors or whatever you've got!" The demon barked, turning back to the crowd.
They shuffled uncomfortably. A few brave souls made their way to the front, stepping forward to take on the burden. Others were pointed out by other villagers, not on purpose but people looked at them and it was enough for Theodrid to notice. He pointed each of them out.
"You ones, stay here I may want you. The rest of you can leave but know this... forget your lords and kings. There is a new power here and I will reward those that please me and you WILL be hearing more from me soon." Though he doubted any of these plebs would be of note. Perhaps they'd make good soliders or sacrifices, only an idiot would turn down numbers. For now this new winged thing was of more interest.
"Now you... what are you?" Theodrid grinned, circling Alhgren as the remaining few mortals looked on nervously.
Ahlgren had left his perch as the villager strolled off with the masses. His phantasmal green wings disappeared in a flash, leaving the bluebell speckled god looking up at the demon. He seemed authorative! Good sign, even better was the scared look he got from the curious looking villagers.
"Why, me? I am a god, the Lord of Green, Ahlgren!" He replied grinning widely, "I am curious as to who YOU are, though. Anyone who can inspire such thick headed villagers must be powerful indeed!"
"Oh you!" Theodrid waved his hand off like a demure school girl. "Comin' in here being all fancy. Everyone else I've met here has usually tried to behead or imolate me - YES I'M TALKING ABOUT YOU." He yelled back at his first four minions.
"But I suppose I'm in a situation, I've been feeling funny all day and what with my name breaking apart..." He trailed off after that. He was forming more power than he should have and now this one. It was like the old stories from when he was a freshborn back in the demon realm. "For now I'm going by Theodrid. It suited this skin well enough."
"Theodrid... I'll commit it to memory." Ahlgren replied, "So you've come in to power very recently? Good to know! I always try to help fledgling gods find their way!"
Ahlgren moved at a nearly blinding speed, next to the Demon. "So, what's your shtick? I, personally, control nature. LIKE SO!" Ahlgren raised his hands, elms broke through the cobblestone underneath a few of the villagers, raising them into the air to the chorus of surprised shrieks. Their branches bent downward, for the to get down. The last 15 feet of the drop was their problem!
"Oooh pretty!" Theodrid exclaimed, admiring the lush green foliage. Those were some fine leaves.
"Well I suppose I've been working with flesh and bone, a little blood here and there. You know the usual currency of the truly developed cultures. As so..." Theodrid waved his hand out at one of the fallen villagers, moving his fingers like he was pulling the strings of a puppet as the poor soul was seemingly dragged up by his own arms before Theodrid flipped their legs out from under them.
"HA!" He barked. "Still nothing wrong with nature and such, plenty of it around and you know where you stand with it." He nodded along with Ahlgren as any appreciator of power would.
Ahlgren tried very hard to not laugh at the villager, it was a display of power after all. He failed. He almost doubled over laughing at the ignorant, dirt speckled idiot.
"Oh my me that was great." He said finally, regaining his senses. "Been awhile since I had a laugh like that. Anyways... There's something going on over there." Ahlgren pointed towards the Heartlands, where the sky had turned black and the tendrils came down from the heavens. Ahlgren couldn't remember if he had any followers there...
"Oh well that hardly looks friendly." Theodrid mused. "And the tentacled horror look is soooo old. Still it probably warants inspection." If only in the name of possible survival.
"Agreed." Ahlgren said, nodding. His ethereal green wings appeared again, and he took to the air. He turned back with a smirk, "You can fly, yes? No shame in having me carry you there."
"Bah!" As if he couldn't fly! True Theodrid never had flown, he'd only recently taken a physical vessel and an arbitrary gender, but he had already manipulated the flesh of other meat sacks, it only stood to reason he could do the same to his own.
The demon started to grunt and squirm as its flesh rippled and twisted, it was a different matter when it was happening to your own vessel. But with one last determined roar the back of his clothes tore away and a pair of leathery, bat like wings unfurled from the ruins. They weren't going to win any beauty contest, they were the same pale colour as the rest of this skin and the fresh veins could be seen pulsing through the thinner parts. It took a few bursts as Theodrid unsteadily rose up off the ground.
"You four stay here and find any you can bring to your cause. When your ready take to the world and spread my name, I want a foothold in the great cities by the time I get back!"
"And how are we supposed to do that?" Asked the wizard.
"Just keep doing what you do... and thank me for it!" He ascended to greater height as he went until coming level with Ahlgren. "After you."
"... Neat." Ahlgren said, looking at the wings. Bats were such adorable creatures, but this didn't quite do them justice. He smirked, and took off, a bit slowly so Theo could keep up. Flying was the most fun a god could have, everyone should enjoy it!
Not much enjoyment was had in their destination, however, as the eldritch being tangled itself around everything. Ahlgren took a deep breath, "Theodrid, please see if you can break the monsters control over the people. I can take care of the land. We're taking it for ourselves!"
"Haaaaaggghhh." Theodrid nearly inhaled all the air in the Riverlands it seemed as he gasped in unbridled delight. "OURSELVES?! Does this mean we're best friends now?"
"... YES IT DOES!" Ahlgren said after a moment, grinning wildly. He brought his hands together and slowly trying to bring them apart, ripping a blue sunny hole in the skies above. The nature below seemed to almost glow their green as he used his power to try and take the lands themselves back from the Trickster God.
There aren't letters that can represent the noise Theodrid made. It was the kind of manic giggle that only a mad man could make. But in its own way it was a sound of pure happiness. Theodrid had never had a friend before, everyone he'd ever known had always been trying to kill him or he them. Friends were only something he'd heard about from the stories of the mortal realm. People said they were great. Either way no matter what happened he didn't even care what happened with the rest of the day.
"Let me just warm up." He began to massage his throat like a singer about to go on stage as he bobbed up and down in the air. His wings not being backed by the same magic that Ahlgren's were.
Theodrid's fingers reached under his own skin as he moulded his pipes for the task at hand. If he'd done it right he could work his vessel's form to send out a howl that would announce their presence to the entire province. After all, all the great demons that had come before him had supposedly shaken the human world with their birth howls as they arrived. It was only right he follow the stories.
With a deep breath Theodrid let out an air shaking roar. His jaw spread open as the mouth of his vessel stretched further than its skin should have been able to handle and its chest shook with the force of the air rushing through it. His eyes went pure red and his teeth grew and sharpened. If he'd done it right then it should even have been the perfect note to split the ears of whatever the tendriled thing making itself a bother was.
Hop a Border- Effortless
Form a Friendship- Effortless
Rival Action (Cause an entire land to change it's culture permanently with global effect [inspiring the Heartlands to follow Ahlgren and Theodrid]) DC: 11, {+2 Nature} {+2 Flesh} {FRIENDSHIP- effects nothing...} -2 AP.
Nabesh'i wondered if she was trying too hard or not trying enough, or even if she had to try at all. Of course, she could just wander the realm for eternity. However, she didn't see the point. She cared for nothing in the world, all she had cared for was dead. Reduced to ash like the traveller had been... Those tiny, grey particles had joined the sea of sand, making the sand beside her feet a shade darker than that of the sand in the distance. Maybe that was the fate of her body, her mortal shell? No, outcasts didn't get funerals, weren't mourned, and weren't missed. The only epitaph she had was that foul story. That blasted thing that had been the catalyst to her revival. Again, she poured scorn on the tale, again, she cursed her fate.
Wait.
Maybe she could do something about it? Gods could do anything, couldn't they? They could revive the dead, bring about storms, create so many wondrous things and change people's hearts - make the good, bad and vice versa. She sat down on the sand, looking up at the cloudless sky. With her power, she could make the weather do anything she wanted. But, there was only the possibility. Unfortunately, Nabesh'i had found that there was no certainty with these things. Hence the need to think about her next move. She could... However... It was just the chance of failure that irked her. Nabesh'i never knew how she coped with it as a mortal. Then again, there was little to fail, especially as a failure herself.
One last try to do something.
That's all this was.
The Scavenger's Daughter lay down on her back and stared at the clear sky, wishing that all accounts of the tale were as empty as that sky. Hopefully, she wouldn't be known as that anymore.
DC 11: Cause an entire land to change its way of life permanently with global effect - Shame [+2]
(Manipulate the shame of the people so the story of the Scavenger's Daughter disappears.)
The gates were open before midday. The army of Mortmire was in disarray, some in the settlement, other strewn across the path up the mountain and into Reapak, and even a couple hundred hundred within the city itself. Inside of the walls, for the first time in centuries, there was chaos. Nobles screamed from their balconies at the troops below, sergeants argued with guardsmen, and a couple short-lived skirmishes broke out between the severely confused of both sides. Inside the chambers of the Council, the madness took on a peculiar strain. Instead of brandished steels and raised bows, the lawmen wielded contracts and treaties and pens. Instead of scarred and hardened soldiers hissing threats with their hands on their swords, baby-skinned noblemen pointed and poked in robes of silk and cloth. The shouting, however, remained consistent within and without.
Over the din, the Lady Alexis could just barely be heard yelling at Swalsby. "...An outrage!" Could be heard now and then. "... first break in sacred traditions since..." was another popular phrase, and of course, "Kill you all, I've done more with less!" was frequent. All the fat lord was heard to say was, "Take it up with the Lady, no, not you."
The First Dreamer stood in the middle of this, half in a daze, being screamed at by both sides and being whisked away before he could respond. Finally, he found a quiet corner and hissed, "What're you gonna do?"
And Odanda replied, "I have no idea."
"WHAT?"
"No, of course I know what I'm going to do, its just..." The First Dreamer got the impression that had she been corporeal, Odanda would've been blushing. "Nothing I've ever planned long-term has actually worked out quite this well before. I wasn't really expecting to get in like this."
"This is working out well?" The First Dreamer raised a mental hand to quiet her. "Yes, okay, I know. So what is the plan?"
"I need you to hold this rock behind your back." A rock appeared. The First Dreamer held it behind his back. "Okay, now I need you to do the speech thing. When I give the signal, hold up the rock. Easy."
"Okay, the speech thing," muttered the First Dreamer. "Sure, why not. Make up a speech. So easy." He cleared his throat, and then, his voice amplified a thousand times, shouted, "Ladies and gentleman, please!" The crowd fell silent and turned towards him. "Have we forgotten why we are here? This is not a conquest! This is not a war! We come in peace! We come in supplication! We come because we need you!" Not the best, surely, but the sound of his voice was almost supernaturally hypnotizing. He took a step forward. "There is a demon to the north, my fellows. A demon of unconquerable thirst, and undeniable power. Even now, he grows stronger. This is the first you learn of this directly, but can you tell me you did not feel it? Can you tell me you did not hear those thoughts, those whispers, in the corners of your mind that told you exactly what I tell you now?" Now he was directly before them, only his back hidden. "You are wise people. You would not be ignorant to this monster. And knowing what you know, because I tell you, yes, but also because you tell yourself, because you know it in your heart, in your very soul, can you ignore this threat? We are powerful nations, the both of us. Is it not our responsibilities to defend those weaker than us? To defeat that which threatens the very nature of our existence? To purge Oriscos of this abomination?" And feeling the power flow from Odanda to his mind and out through his fingertips, he knew what he must do. "I present to you the Dreamstone, my fellows, my friends. May it forever stand as a testament to our alliance!" And the diamond he held gleamed, and the gleam caught the eye of everyone in the room and held it there.
Create a -2 magic item: The Dreamstone - DC 5 [+4 Dreams]
On the surface, all the Dreamstone does is generate feelings of brotherhood and bravery, and anyone sleeping within its range will dream of these things as well. Its primary and hidden effect, however, is to dull the minds of those in its range to the influence of other gods, while simultaneously making them more suggestible while they sleep, in the domain of Odanda. It is meant to be kept in the Council room in Reapak.
Syv, Archon, Ahlgren, and Theodrid - The Heartlands
Never before had been such a clash of divine beings. The Heartlands was an agricultural land, making use of the Cardya river. Folks were either farmers or merchants, growing grain or selling it. Both kinds of people screamed in horror as tentacles covered the bountiful land. They prayed for that to stop, but were soon silenced by images of trickery...
They were not alone, however. The artificer-god had taken it upon himself to stop the spread of darkness, to stop the trickster-god. A beacon of light pierced the darkness and the mortals were reminded of Archon, of the god of progress, of technology, of gears and the closest representative of order in this scenario, but would it be enough?
Meanwhile, the newcomers combated the tentacles. All in all, it was quite an experience of mortals. Along with the antics of Syv and the reaction of Archon, nature itself rose up against the tentacles along a roar that surely came from a demon, as it was something that could only come from such a terrible, fearsome being.
The power of Flesh, Nature, and Magical Artifice attacked what was borne out of the power of mischief. How laughable. Or so the mortals thought so. An eerie laugh escaped their mouths, "Kihihihihihihihihihi~." They saw the folly of fighting against the Divine Tricker, it already had their belief as soon as the darkness had covered the land, and the power that came with it.
[hr]
Raetic - Northlands
The hero's reward wouldn't be a simple spear. It would be an object of importance, worthy of being revered as a weapon forged by a god. At least that was what Raetic hoped. Nevertheless, his hopes weren't betrayed. As a thunderous peal split the split the silence, the spear was imbued with divine properties. Potent enough to harm the Sunderspire Ursa, even.
[hr]
Nabesh'i - The Dustlands
It was another failure. Besies, the story itself was story of shame and as long as that emotion existed, the story would continue to be told, so that the nomads of the desert could know of the stigma associated with cannibalism, of the pain of the ostracized and of the Scavenger's Daughter. She would continue to exist, at least for now.
[hr]
Odanda - Reapak
Many of the Council stared at the gleaming object in the First Dreamer's hands. At first it seemed like a simple gem - pretty and of some value, but useless when it came to matters of war like all of the rest. However, soon feelings of brotherhood and bravery grew and some decided to take a stand. "A demon?" A man called Sir Astor began, "Surely an opponent worthy of our valiant forces!"
[hr]
Mhioden - Sliverdock
The Merchant Princes turned around in order to seek guidance from the magpie-god, but nothing could be seen of the Whisperer of Secrets. Only a distant flutter of wings could be heard. Had they been abandoned? Regardless, Baldassare decided to fill the void of authority and ordered the boy-king to see to his people.
[HEADING=1]Rolls[/HEADING]
Syv - Cause an entire land to change it's culture permanently with global effect [http://orokos.com/roll/145692]: 2d6+615
Archon - Cause an entire land to change it's way of life permanently with global effect [http://orokos.com/roll/145693]: 2d6+06
Raetic - Create a -2 Magic Item [http://orokos.com/roll/145694]: 2d6+29
Ahlgren & Theodrid - Cause an entire land to change it's culture permanently with global effect [http://orokos.com/roll/145695]: 2d6+813
Nabesh'i - Cause an entire land to change its way of life permanently with global effect [http://orokos.com/roll/145706]: 2d6+28
Odanda - Create a -2 magic item [http://orokos.com/roll/145708]: 2d6+49
Archon could hear the terrible laughter, even from the high top of his tower, and knew that his homeland was lost. To add insult to injury, he could hear a coarse, mechanical laughter of his creations, the Automatons, below. However, his crowning shame came from the distance, as a flutter of wings crashed through the glass ceiling of the tower, and brought Rickon and Hawke back to him.
"Rickon! What are you-?" Archon stopped, now able to see the same wicked smile of Syv plastered on the boy's face. "Oh no, not you too..."
The boy said nothing, he only continued to giggle a most disturbing giggle as he approached Archon, the staff the god gave him raised above his head. Then, in an instant, an abominable machine sprung forth from the boy's head. It had no describable form, it was simply a mess of gears and ethereal energies. It came close to striking the god, but Archon, even without his followers, was not powerless. With a sweep of his hand, the god blew apart the machine. However, it was a reflex, the god himself was still dumbstruck by the horror of what was formerly his most dear follower. "I'm...so sorry."
In a quick dash, Archon charged Rickon, and forced the boy away from Hawke. At the same time, he pried the Staff of the Second Artificer out of the boy's hands. Then, knowing his time was short, Archon mounted Hawke and forced the giant bird into the air.
He randomly picked his direction, it did not matter. The Heartlands were lost to him, to stay would simply pit him against Syv's now immense strength. In time he would return, perhaps with other gods at his side, and retake his home; but for now, he had to flee.
With its manager now speeding off into the distance, the great gadgets and mechanisms of the workshop began to grow dim and dormant.
As he flew into the sky, Archon poured his misery into a cry that could be heard by all beings divine. "Do not trust Syv! That god will bring ruin upon all!"
As the lands sweeped by below him, covered with the disgusting smile of Syv, Archon was reminded of the mask the god had used to cripple his power. Even now is whispered to him. "You lost your home, your friends, your land. What's the point of going on? Make your beast crash into the sea, a pathetic death for a pathetic god..."
Archon did not want to listen, but the words were in his very head, cluttering his thoughts. There had to be a way to deafen it's power, for Archon to make himself immune to any object that sought to weaken him. Then, it dawned on him, sudden inspiration not deserting the god, even at his darkest hour. "Oh yes..." A smirk tried to creep up Archon's lips. "I'm going to artifice too..."
Working with only one hand free was certainly a tricky job, and the mask didn't really help matters. Regardless, Archon used what power he had left to conjure a new device into being, one that would work against others of its kind to cripple him.
Send a message across the Aether: Effortless
Creating a -2 magic item (Null Field Generator). DC: 5 [+2 Magicial Artifice][-2 Focus]
Null Field Generator: Projects an invisible field of power around Archon, disabling the effects of other magic items (at its level of power) that try to influence him.
By the time night fell, the army had been safely moved out of the acropolis and into the countryside, and the nobles and councilmen had been mollified. Now, only Swalsby and the First Dreamer remained within city walls, working out the finer details of the alliance with the Lady Alexis. Now, as the moon began to dip once more below the horizon and the first rays of dawn brushed the sky, she stood and stretched, exhausted from hours spent bent over paper and pen. "All's agreed upon, then. We'll have messengers sent out to the other cities. They've no reason not to lend their help. The campaign has the potential to start within the month, if all goes to plan." She stood and shook both their hands. But when she finished with the First Dreamer, she did not let go, but rather gripped tighter and stared into his forehead. The First Dreamer got the distinct impression he was being talked past. "But know this: We are not your vassals. You are not in control here. You may believe you have the council in your pocket because of that thrice-damned idiot Sir Astor and his lackeys. You are wrong. I rule in Reapak, because I am strong and because I am well feared. The Alsalians thought they could replace me with a decades old claim to the throne. They sat outside our walls with a force five thousand men strong, well-supplied and well armored. And I burned them all in a single day, and I rode to their homes with an army in the space of an hour, and I broke their walls from the inside, and I gutted their kings, and I reduced their city to rubble. Do not make their mistakes."
And from inside the First Dreamer's mind, Odanda whispered, "Noted.
With that, she was off, and Swalsby quietly retreated as well, leaving the First Dreamer alone in his quarters. At Odanda's word, he fell into the bed and was asleep in seconds. Odanda turned her mind to matters of business.
"Do not trust Syv! That god will bring ruin upon all!" The words flashed across her mind, and she felt a tiny god, broken and alone, fleeing from an all-consuming force somewhere in the Heartlands. It was a frightening thought. Living without worship, cut from your home by some hostile invader. Terrible, really. But thoughts could be treacherous. She had no real idea of who was the villain and who was the victim. Nevertheless, she felt sympathy for the refugee god. Just not enough to justify provoking the being behind his flight. She cast the image away.
There were five bubbles of softly-glowing light nearby; the minds of her honor guard. They could perhaps serve a purpose after all. She descended and opened them up, revealing five stoic figures, standing at attention even at rest. "I must ask something of you," she whispered. "I must ask that you give yourselves over to me completely. I must ask that you give up your waking souls in favor of your dreaming ones. I must ask that you become immortal, at a terrible cost. Do you accept this?" It was a formality, of course. There would be no answer but yes.
Grant transmittable immortality of a sort to a small group of humans - DC 11: Sleepwalkers [Dreams +4]
Sleepwalkers descend into an eternal coma, unable to wake or function normally. This hardly matters, however, as their existence becomes truly mind-over-matter. They live in a constant dream, and are as resilient as one is inside of a dream. They have a weakness, however - dream catchers. Dream catchers, or anything with the intent to steal or shut down an unconscious mind, will suck the life right out of'em. The intent is important. The builder must specifically will it to be such an item. Even noticing anything like that will destroy their minds at an instants notice. However, this hardly matters, as Sleepwalkers are not directly meant to be soldiers, but rather direct conduits to the collective unconscious and thus Odanda.
The forging had been a complete success. As expected. Now, armed with a brand new spear and The Call of Slumber, there was no doubt that Wiglaf would be able to triumph over the Ursa.
After giving the soon-to-be hero a quick but hearty celebration, it was time to send him off to face the great monster. For the many mortals who watched their one and only hope head off to face the beast, it was a time of suspense and worry. For Raetic, who knew the outcome, things were significantly less tense.
It'd take a while for Wiglaf to make his journey and return, so the god decided to do something productive with his time. A particularly good harvest would compliment the hero's victory, after all.
Inspiring greatly increased fertility in a land: DC 9, +2 Runes
Yes sir that was some fine bellowing if Theodrid said so himself. He and Ahlgren made a good team why with power like theirs combined no doubt the world would be at their feet all too soon. Theodrid swooped down into the nearest populated center to admire their handy work, no doubt the plebs would be basking in their glory and trembling in awe of their power.
This would be the first of many grea - why weren't they bowing?
"The fuck is this?" Theodrid looked around indignantly. What was wrong with these people? They were just stumbling around like dribbling drunks! And those that weren't were acting like idiotic children! All throughout the streets he could hear it, the faint chanting. Syv Syv Syv Syv...
Then out of nowhere! Someone had the goddamn nerve to throw a pie at him! Its fruity contents splattering over his wings. They laughed like it was the funniest thing they had ever seen, all the while a vein throbbed in Theodrid's forehead. Soon everyone on the street was laughing at him. It was as he stomped off in a huff that Theodrid grabbed a nearby pedestrian and threw them into the ground with a wet splat in the same way someone would kick the thing that had stubbed their toe.
Theodrid took to the air again, passing Ahlgren as he went. "This place is stupid, I'm going back to the Riverlands." He said stroppily. He was in such a huff that he didn't even bother to look back and see that the pool of blood his victim had left was turning into a crimson whirlpool and was dragging anyone nearby into its center, mixing them together in an ungodly fashion.
DC9 Creating or altering a one-off living creature bigger than a blue whale. [+2 Flesh] Creating a flesh titan. It's a titan... made of flesh!
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