NDNESVI(Reboot): Myths, Legends, and Gods

(OOC) Looks like AA can have penguin lasers; just make Chromakins in the shape of penguins that live in cold north and kill giants because they're evil or whatever
 
Apologies for relative lateness because thank !!third world internet!!

Major Action: Night births children: the Achandaki, the progeny of Achandesha with the heavenly worlds themselves, appearing to mortal eyes as beautiful, almost radiant feminine humans. The Achandaki are few in number and do not have a single place of settlement, but are semi-divine; being so, they do not fear the dark and the live and travel by night. They are entirely peaceful and capable of cordial parlay, unless attacked. Their task is to spread throughout the lands, spreading the light of darkness and countering Rula's foul tongue, and selecting mortals they deem sufficiently intelligent to attain wisdom and come to Achandasha's isle.

Minor Action: Instruct the sentinels of the Isle to garner as much information about the other gods' magic as possible, such that Night can master and manipulate it.

Minor Action: Create a single, stunning "supernova" bright enough to be seen during the day, as a reminder of Night's mythical power.
 
(OOC) Looks like AA can have penguin lasers; just make Chromakins in the shape of penguins that live in cold north and kill giants because they're evil or whatever

OOC: Hahaha yeah, something like that can work.

Well, we are creating the world, and I have created poles to it :p

OOC: Yeah. Of course, then things started the Pillar of Cold was "In the Center of All", and then when it touched the sky it released you to the Cold North. Would that make the Pillar of Cold like, an axis? Literal poles? Interesting things to think about.


OOC: This stuff is pretty cool, although having a daylight-visible supernova would be interesting to Tai, because Tai has never seen/reached a night before due to his condition: having a glimpse of the night during the day would probably be fascinating to him.

Actually, after it happens having Tai stop walking for a moment/hour/day trying to figure out what that bright spot in the sky is would be pretty interesting!

We should chat a bit sometime, I have a few ideas on stuff we can work together on.

INSERTEDIT: This goes for anyone actually. I'll be on #nes usually, but I'm ok with going on IOTchat if I have to.

BTW @ NINJADUDE,


Would you prefer us to discuss plans in thread OOCly, out of thread just... somewhere, in a separate thread or social group or other planning place?
 

BTW @ NINJADUDE,


Would you prefer us to discuss plans in thread OOCly, out of thread just... somewhere, in a separate thread or social group or other planning place?

OOC chatter in the thread is completely fine. Whatever is most convenient for your discussions really.

Anyway, I'm starting to work on the update in earnest now. If anyone needs to squeek in any last details or orders, shoot me a PM or try to grab my attention on #nes or IOT chat.
 


The Blood Feast of Onoqu


In the land on Onoqu*, in a subterranean dwelling suitable for their subversive existence, a cult of Nitäl gathered for an unholy ritual years in the planning. They were led by their prophet, Balaphon, whose power and connection to the Blood God were unrivaled in the world. Though their cabal numbered several dozen members at most – a collection of all the dregs and exiles of the civilized world, ostracized for their deplorable practices – there were more than a hundred people here today; most were prisoners, held captive as fuel for demonic energies.

Balaphon had promised his subservient followers power the likes of which had never been seen before. To the uninformed, his preaching would sound like the ravings of a fool, polluted with a delusion of grandeur. Balaphon, however, knew better; he had directly conversed with Nitäl himself, and had seen firsthand the promised that the God of All Gods offered. He tasted the power course through him; it was warm and metallic, and all too familiar to a man of his inclinations. This achievement, unfortunately, would not come easily. Nitäl required ninety-nine sacrifices to bestow the graces He had promised; this number seemed dauntingly high, until Balaphon’s cult grew in numbers and strength. Mobility, he had learned, was key to such an endeavor; people quickly saw the connection between multiple kidnappings over a short period of time. Spreading his followers over a wider area allowed for the discretion required in this regard.

The logistics of his mission proved the most daunting. It took years to collect the prerequisite sacrifices needed for his ritual. His problem was compounded by the need for very specific sacrifices: young girls, at least eight years old but no older than sixteen, all of which needed to be virgins. Admittedly, this strictness was not levied by Nitäl himself, but formed a more personal specification of Balaphon’s. Even when kidnappings had succeeded, the captives needed to be fed and maintained, and a constant vigilance provided in case of escapes or suicides.

None of that mattered anymore. The cavern they had chosen for the ritual possessed dimensions nearly perfect for the number of people involved; close enough for a sense of intimacy, but large enough to not hinder movement or activity. The noise sounded like a brawl; the chants and prayers of the cultists mixed with the wails and cries of the victims to create an unholy symphony that echoed through the chamber.

Timing was everything. After Balaphon spoke the next few words, the sacrifices must be offered in a perfect combination of organization and haste. The cabal would grow excited from the bloodletting; it was important that the cabal’s legates keep the lesser cultists in line. Balaphon’s focus needed to be maintained on the ritual only; his subservients were trusted to perform their duty in kind.

The chants were deafening now. The ritual veered towards an orgy, with all sorts of energies flowing through the cultists’ minds and bodies. The prisoners, their fate now apparently, reacted in different ways; some tried to squirm and twist their way to freedom, many broke down into a state of shock and despair, while a few others sat silently, resigned to their ordeal.

Balaphon’s words flowed like an actor’s soliloquy; he did not err even in his breathtaking. He reached the predetermined point of the prayer at which the sacrifices must be made. Admittedly, some of the cultists were too engaged in their frenzy to remember their cue, but the legates remained focused and diligent. At the prescribed moment, the murdering began, and the blood flowed freely onto the cavern floor below.

It was all over quicker than Balaphon had predicted. The cultists were keen in their craft, and their knives were sharp. Truth be told, the arteries of the young girls proved more malleable than that of older men, but perhaps that was a bias or illusion of the current moment. In less than a moment, the cavern had filled with the pale corpses of dozens of sacrifices, twitching and lying still on the bare floor.

As the sacrifices were made, the temperature of the room seemed to increase. Violent energies spun through the chamber, visibly contorting the growing pools of blood like the waves of an ocean storm. As the sacrifices completed, visible change could be seen in the demeanor of the cultists. It would appear at first that they were wholly unprepared for the gift given to them; they began to hunch over, twitching and cursing despite their continued chants and prayers. As the corpse count grew, so did the perturbations in the air. The temperature reached a boiling point; if the cabal even noticed it, they paid no heed to the uncomfortable ambiance. Their prayers changed to shrieks as their newfound powers graced them; their physique in some ways devolved from human to animal, sprouting fangs and leathery wings and a mind blessed with renewed knowledge of the blood arts. Sanity seemed to depart them and was replaced with an uncontrollable blood lust, the first victims of which being the still fresh corpses on the floor below.

Balaphon himself did not suffer such a fate, for his blessing was entirely different in nature. The violent energies that cackled throughout the chamber converged upon him and lifted him out of the cavern and across the night sky, providing him no chance at rest or respite. When he was sufficiently high in the sky, the energies took hold, and in a brief instant his physical matter imploded into a soft crimson rain. In its stead, his body, mind, and soul continued to exist as three separate entities, each more blessed and powerful than ever before. The same blood magic that had carried Balaphon away into the night separated these three beings into different corners of the earth, where they continue their reign of terror even today.


* = The geographic location of Onoqu does not matter; it can be in any suitable location.

* * *

Major Action: Creation of the aspects of Balaphon. There are three in total, representing his body, mind, and soul.

The Body of Balaphon is a formidable warrior and combatant, eternally fueled by bloodlust, who wanders the world with little semblance of objective or goal. He leaves a path of destruction and carcasses in his wake. He wields the greatsword Talon of Nitäl and wears crimson armor, and stands nearly seven feet tall, with a physical build unmatched by any mere mortal human.

The Mind of Balaphon does not possess the physical gifts of the Body. He is an older, frail man, with a balding head and a diminished physique. His gift, however, is that of persuasion and speech. He is a demagogue of unrivaled talent. While the Body of Balaphon creates bloody carnage through his own violence, the Mind does so by convincing others to do it for him. Entire cities have descended into civil war by following the machinations of the Mind of Balaphon. His most prized possession is a crimson skull which is said to whisper to him dark secrets.

Unlike the Mind and Body, the Soul of Balaphon is no longer human. It is an ethereal creature whose blood magics have been honed to near perfection. While it lacks the brutish nature of the Body and the scheming strategic plans of the Mind, the Soul seems to act with otherworldly perspective and purpose. People describe it as an incorporeal ghost, or a bloody fog that materializes into an outline resembling a human. Few see the Soul of Balaphon and live to tell the tale.

They currently act independently of one another. The Body wanders in a seemingly aimless pattern, seeking destruction and mayhem. The Mind journeys across civilization, spreading lies and discord by speaking with his forked tongue. The Soul's goals and whereabouts are unknown. Naturally, because this major action creates three creatures instead of one, their power can be adjusted correspondingly. These creatures should not be considered the equivalent of titans or other such wondrous creations, and should not be considered demigods, but they are powerful enough to enter the myths and legends of civilizations.

Minor Action: Creating the items mentioned in the major action above. The Talon of Nitäl is an imposing greatsword, tinted red either through its construction or untold lives ended by it. As the sword tastes blood, it seems to empower its wielder with energy. The skull possessed by the Mind of Balaphon is unknown in origin, but is rumored to be the driving force behind the Mind's political and sociological achievements.

Minor Action: Creation of the Onoqui. They are the former cultists led by Balaphon. They are humans who gained animalistic traits, including claws and fangs. They are accomplished blood sorcerers who are said to feast on human hearts. They tend to live solitary lives, although the formation of smaller cliques or gangs is not uncommon. While they have begun to spread across the darker forests and hidden regions of the world, they are most commonly found in Onoqu.
 
Assuming players can still join, I'm interested in either picking up Patron, or making some plant/wildlife God. The world seems be in desperate need of tree huggers.
 
@ND: in the final stage, could we hypothetically act as an immortal we create in this stage? IE, Lea or Balaphon?
 
Takamu and Maryea One

“MORNING MORNING MORNING! HURRY HURRY HURRY!”

The blanked figure groaned slightly before sitting up, his disheveled brown hair cascading down his face, only a once-broken nose poking through the morass. He is lit by a glowly blue ball of light, a Chromarch, which begun telekinetically flicking at the strands of hair, sending them floating away, a strand or two at a time, to reveal a young, chiseled face.

“Hurry Hurry Hurry Tai’s coming up!” chirps the cheerful Chromarch as the man rubbed sleep from his blue eyes and yawned snores from his breath. “Hurry Takamu, Hurry!”

“I’m coming Maryea,” said Takamu, following the sumersaulting Chromarch out of the hut into the open air.

The Great Planet still graced the sky as he poked his head outdoors, but already it’s bright colors begun to fade as the horizon blossomed in color. First red, then orange, then yellow, and finally blinding white hot as Tai emerges from beneath the heavens. The Night flees, Achandesa sleeps, and as Tai lifts away from the horizon the canvas brightens, washing out the glorious colors that graced the night, then dulls to the uniform light blue that colors the day.

“Whoa.” said Maryea.

Takamu smiles as his little friend fawns over the majesty of the sunrise, and turns away as Tai’s light slowly becomes blinding. Under his simple roof sits sat down at his polished stone anvil, and takes out an unfinished trinket he was making for a chieftain who lived a few days downriver. scrape, scrape. goes the knife as he carefully shaved, shaped, and engraved the soft metal he collected from the riverbed. bang! bang! goes the hammer as he flattened nuggets into foil. The metal’s reflection hinted blue as Maryea flew behind his shoulder to observe, as the thin petals begun to coalesce and a tulip grew. As he held up the finished pin, a ray of sunlight shone through a gap in the roof, and it glowed, completed, in his hands.

“Whoa.” said Maryea.

“Thanks.” said Takamu, as he carefully wrapped up the delicate pin and set it aside.

“What will you work on next?” asked the curious Chromarch as he stretches his arms and legs.

“I don’t know. Maybe you can pick something for me?”

The Chromarch gasped, or more correctly emulated the sound of a gasp. Such honor! She has great ideas! “What about… a COWBIRDGIRLSTARSTRAWBERRYPIETREE…”

The craftsman laughed as the Chomarch stumbles over her words, her glowing form trembling, as if in embarrassment, as she was once again unable to convey her endless ideas properly. The Chromarch turns slightly red as Takamu hastily offers apologies, ruined by the interruption of more laughter.

“Sorry,” he tries again, “And don’t worry about it. I’ll have some lunch and I’m sure you can think of something by the time I finish.” He smiles, and the Chromarch slowly turns back into her customary blue, and began excitedly describing the number of crickets she saw that day before she realized he had started working. As she spoke, he slices a piece of bread and spreads jam from glass jar of preserves, and says “Mhm...” and “Interesting!” as they walked in a random direction from his hilltop hut, until the duo reached a nearby clearing, the hut still in sight, but offering a closer look at the river that ran beneath their home.

The river gurgled happily beneath them and the birds sang as they spoke lightly of various topics.

Of fate “Things are never certain with me around!”

Of luck “I’m lucky to have you, at least.”

Of happiness “I wish we can stay like this forever!”

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Takamu whirls around to see a robed figure at his hut. “Stay here,” he warns, before heading up the hill. It is rare for anyone to visit him out here, and rarer still that said visitors tolerated the constant and close contact of a Chromarch’s childish comments. “I’ll be back, I promise.”

“STRANGER DANGER!” parrots the Chromarch, learned perhaps, from some ancient city alleyway, but she stayed by the river, watching from a distance. As he approached the stranger.

“Who goes there?” He asked, holding his hands, bare, before him. “I am Takamu, and this is my humble home.”

The stranger seemed to survey him, before asking “Are you the goldsmith they speak so highly of in the village?”

“I work with gold, yes. But who are you?”

The robed stranger stood silent. Takamu saw, or thought he saw, a flash of greed, a set of quick, gold speckled eyes looking through him, through the dilapidated walls, to see what lies within.

Finally, the stranger spoke: “I am Jamaku the Mage, and I demand all your gold. In exchange, I’ll let you live, and if your work impress me, I might even give you a single wish.”

Silence.

Blink.

“You’ve got to be kiddi…”

“Jamaku does not kid.”

Silence.

Then suddenly, a blue blur.

“TAKAMU ARE YOU OK WHATS WRONG WHY ARE YOU SO QUIET WAS HE MEAN TO YOU!?”

The mage seems to be taken aback, mouth agape before gasping, “That Chromarch… has the most energy of any I have ever seen!” With a flourish, he procures a glass jar and leaps with unnatural quickness towards Maryea. His lips muttered rapidly to focus his will into a hammer to force the universe to bend to his command. His pupils seem to turn into slits as his magical power corralled the frightened Chromarch, redirecting it, compacting it, siphoning it…

POW

The mage smashes into the hut, the glass jar smashed into pieces beneath his feat. As Maryea screams dramatically a second too late, Tamaku rushes to grab his hammer and knife as a sibilant voice slithered from the wreckage.

“You’ve made… a dreadful mistake.”

With WHOOSH the hut exploded from the might of Jamaku’s mind. The Mage stood up, his hood fallen to reveal a ruined face with glowing eyes. As Tamaku struggles to get back on his feet, he can feel the grass shifting beneath him, clutching him, strangling him. Even Mareya, his constant companion for so many years, seemed to have fled.

“Pity.” said Jamaku, pitilessly, “I could have used you, if you showed me proper res GAH”

The glass jar that fell down onto the mage shattered across the his brow and covered Jamaku’s face with jam. “TAKE THAT YOU MEANIE! YOU CAN DO IT TAMAKU!” shouts the worried Chromarch as the goldsmith roars and leapt to his feet. Jamaku’s arms stretched out out vainly to protect his face as he stumbled and fell beneath Tamaku’s onslaught.

“Any last words?”

The mage pulls back his hands, dumbfounded at the idiot that stood before him. Offering a mage last wo…

Tamaku stomped his feet into the dead mage’s threat to pull out his hammer, then wipes the blood and brains off onto the mage’s robes.

“Of course not.”

“Are you okayyyy?”

“Yes… yes I am.” Tamaku stumbled, and was caught by Maryea before he fell on his side. “I… I need to sit down.”

“Can we stay here?”

Tamaku sighed. For his entire life he tried to escape his fate, his blood. “No.”

But it was all for naught. “But where will we go?”

Perhaps he should embrace it instead? “Adventuring.”

“Adventuring!? That sounds fun! I met an adventurer once his name was IKilledABear and he fought a dragon and his girlfriend was mary s…”

Tamaku smiles wearily.

Perhaps it wouldn’t be too bad...
 
Major action: The Icosahedron, an artifact of unimaginable power, is created. It grants the deepest, truest wish of whoever holds it, even if they have no idea what it is they want, or if what they want and what they think they want are two entirely different things. It has a tendency to change hands quickly and a habit of becoming lost. Rios put a little bit of his soul into forging this: it can never be destroyed, and he can make it appear and disappear at will. Naturally, his chosen bloodlines have a higher chance of interacting with the Icosahedron.

Major action: Plate tectonics are now actively enforced.

Minor action: Rios makes a jungle-infested volcanic island named Artaraka where a lot of things can kill you. It's very quaint in the fall. It is absolutely nowhere near any tectonic boundaries (ie, on a hotspot) and also a portal hub. There is a ruined castle on one of the cliffs inhabited by lizards. Not lizardmen, just lizards.
 
Update 2: 500 - 1,000 AC

It all started with sweet words and an invitation.

The two had much to discuss, the Gods of Fate and Ambition. Patron looked forward to the meeting; with Vash’s gifts of magic and predictions of events yet to pass, Patron could better test mortals with potential for greatness. Perhaps Patron’s own Yinshung could be given a taste of the Lord of Chance’s power, giving Patron’s champions access to a wide array of skills with which to stun opponents and onlookers alike.

Patron finally met Vash at their meeting place; high in the sky above the strait between two continents. Patron couldn’t help but find it ironic that, with all of the unfathomable powers and throngs of mortals at their command, none of the deities bothered naming either continent. Sure, Cold North was synonymous with the lands he dwelled within, but that was a frozen wasteland populated by the Giants, their slaves, and woefully unhappy humans with the misfortune to be born there. The lands beneath Vash and Patron teemed with mortal life, still getting its foothold in the world. Patron knew his champions would spearhead humanity’s rise to civilization any decade now, and perhaps the continents would be named after particularly famous Yinshung.

A brilliant idea formed in the God of Ambition’s mind. Name the continents after the two great powers meeting on this very day! He would offer this suggestion to Vash right away. As Patron inched closer, he could help but wonder; what else could he offer to Vash?

As it turns out, everything.

Grasping each other’s arms with enthusiasm, the two gods greeted one another. Yet Vash refused to release his peer. Patron panicked as Vash’s grin remained, even as a tear in creation’s fabric opened up beneath them. Swirling all around them was chaotic, raw energy that only exists between the real and unreal. Lightning hurtled toward them, transforming to stone before impact. Great seas of lava bubbled forth, dissipating into swarms of biting locusts. It was here, in this maelstrom of change, that Vash was determined to subsume Patron, foul creator of the unchanging Yinshung, trespasser onto Vash’s realm of fate. With these crimes, Vash found justification for deicide.

Patron would not go quietly, and the battle raged for countless days. The strange energies that poured forth from the wound within creation warped time itself, and legends held that if time had not been tampered with, the two would have continued for an eternity. Patron smashed Vash into the ocean floor, the impact raising up mountains whose peaks stretched high into the sky. Vash unleashed magma from the heart of those mountains onto Patron, and then blasted him with cold winds from the north. Seas boiled and scalded the God of Ambition, and yet he fought on ferociously. Finally, he seized Vash, wrapping his arms around the father of mages, and shook the heavens with a final roar. What terrible assault he had planned, the world will never know, for abruptly, his voice faded from the heavens. Patron’s skin grew ashen grey as his body plummeted toward the chaotic rift below. The rift swallowed up Patron’s physical form, and seemingly pleased with this divine morsel, closed.

Vash remained motionless, still hovering far overhead. His body contorted, twisted, and shook with power. Horrible power. Power that did not belong to him, that yearned to extinguish him at the soonest opportunity. Vash had stolen away Patron’s divine spark at the last possible moment. Yet the Lord of Change still teetered on the precipice of defeat; he could feel Patron within him, diluting Vash’s own conscience and self-control. Vash lowered himself to the new continent that had served as their battleground, a land scarred by violence since its creation. He surveyed a land that was wrought not with careful planning or purpose, but out of necessity by two combatants who wielded creation itself as both weapon and defense.

Walking this new expanse, Vash found the continent to be surprisingly suitable to his needs. Forests stretched for untold miles across the land, interrupted only by towering mountains scorched and made barren by turmoil that had wracked the land. Among the mountains, Vash found the old site of the rift in existence. What had at one point been at sea level was now inexplicably atop a spire of earth and stone. Like a tooth-filled maw, the outline of the old rift could still be seen blasted into the stone. Upon visiting that spot, Vash felt something strange. The currents of magic flowed strongly to that grim locus. Vash felt the scorching radiance of Tai roasting the mountaintop, while paradoxically the winds of Cold North began to howl towards the rift. The place was intoxicating, but dangerous; Vash could hardly manage Patron’s power. Drinking too deep from this font would drown him. The Eye of Vash would not be the scene of a divine irony on that day. Vash left to lick his wounds.

At once, this horrific event sent shockwaves throughout creation. Most heavily hit were those devoted to the God of Ambition. His cult sought out magic users and lashed out against them, but in their haste and fervor these devotees oftentimes revealed themselves. Vengeful peasants and warriors, finally finding the men who treated them as pawns for untold years, gave these conspirators little heed. Some members of Patron’s cult with an eye for self preservation instead chose to worship Vash as a continuation of Patron under a new guise. When one god strikes down another, it is not hard to make converts. While Patron was never widely popular among common folk, stunned many of various faiths into silence, before making Vash their object of worship.

The Yinshung, greatest champions (and victims) of Patron, immediately began to falter in the absence of their puppetmaster. Chi among all mortals, not just the Yinshung, began to fade away, but the Yinshung felt this effect worst of all. Warbands held together by sheer might began to unravel, and even the most determined Yinshung began to feel emotions of doubt and uncertainty. The Yinshung remained far more powerful than any typical mortal, but maintenance of this power required constant training and conditioning. To add further insult to injury, Fuku cursed the Yinshung to always find oppression wherever they go. Constantly fleeing persecution from both fearful communities and violent zealots, the Yinshung took to hiding in retreats deep in nature. There they find brief respite from the woes of the world, but never for more than a generation.

Mere decades after the fall of Patron, mages and dragons alike found themselves drawn to the Eye of Vash, their magic more potent at that remote locus. While the initial years were fraught with violence and tension, Vash’eth quickly fell under the undisputed reign of the dragons. Numbering not even a dozen, the dragons nevertheless ruled with frightening strength and arrogance. Mages flocked to learn magic from these tyrants of the skies, and learn they did. They learned of magic, and how it could break a man’s will to live. How it could humble the most defiant usurper, or how it could be turned against a rival mage. The dragons of Vash’eth had the city hewn out of stone by slaves and apprentices alike, and it was there that Vash’s followers collected their tomes and records.

The rulers of Vash’eth boasted having access to a somehow functioning portal of Rios, despite the creation of the portals predating the creation of the actual land it rested upon. Regardless, the draconic rulers of Vash’eth never personally tested the portal, but smaller mortals walked through, never to return. While treated as a cruel means of execution (no one ever returned from the portal), mages were actually sent to the portal hub of Artaraka, an island home to vicious wildlife and particular constructions. A strange item known as the Icosahedron was discovered there, rumored to grant the wish of whoever possesses it. Survivors on the island slew one another in an effort to control the powerful artifact, although the last man seen possessing the Icosahedron may have simply wished himself off of the island.

Other gods dedicated themselves to more peaceful pastimes, and it was in this age that the gods truly used creation as their canvas. The dreary oceans of sand and grass gave way to swamps, rolling hills, and forests of all kinds. New islands rose out of the foam, while vast stretches of land sank below the waves in order to create bays. Nyubar was chief among these laborers, his works showing favor towards no terrain in particular, but nevertheless prolific. While easily less violent than Tai’s creation of the first landmasses, Nyubar’s actions drew the worried attention of Typhans across creation. What’s stopping Nyubar from raising a continent right from underneath them? Nyubar appeared to be largely benign entity, yet these actions were viewed with suspicion beneath the waves.

As it turned out, the Typhans were right to fear the spread of landmasses into their realm. Yet it came from a source both unlikely, yet characteristic in its flagrant disregard for the rest of the world.

Cold North was heading south.

The lonely titan, eager to visit the southern pole of the world (which it appears Cold North himself had created), began a long march south. Not changing course for any obstacle, Cold North raised ice-capped mountains from the depths to serve as a sort of titanic path to follow on his journey. Tales of Typhans becoming locked into prisons of ice had become something of a legend to contemporary sea-dwellers who doubted that such cold temperatures could visit a place so quickly. In Cold North’s wake, legend became real once more in a twist of horrific irony. Prayers filled the air (water?) surrounding Harika’s palace, and the vengeful Goddess prepared to smite what was sure to be a mighty invader. But by the time she had reached the surface to meet this grim foe, Cold North’s silhouette could be seen clumsily plodding along with remarkable speed over the mountaintops.

Having finally reached the south pole, Cold North found it remarkably similar to the north pole, albeit even more lonely in the south. The land was also a bit warmer than he had liked it to be. Perhaps in the future he’d save some strength to create a more hospitable land, where the temperatures never dipped above absolute zero. But alas, Cold North had used an extra portion of his might to create iceborn beasts to protect the frozen mountaintops behind him. Cold North’s head buzzed with ideas on how future trips could be handled, what paths to take and what lands should know the joy of the cold. He headed back down the mountainous chain before him.

This time, Harika was ready for the Father of Giants. A massive wave crashed into Cold North, who had experienced absolutely no resistance in past forays into the outside world. Caught off guard, Cold North’s titanic frame plunged into the ocean, ice forming all around him. Stunned by the suddenness of the situation, as well as the sting of warm water, Cold North found himself at the nonexistent mercy of Harika’s crashing waves. Sent hurtling through mountain after mountain, Cold North’s mountain path was soon reduced to a long chain of lonely mountain islands. Finally hurled away from Harika’s wrath, Cold North thawed out of his great mass of ice and chose a more discreet path. Freezing the water beneath his feet, he walked cautiously to his home, mournfully looking to the beautiful night sky. Briefly finding solace in Achandasha’s handiwork, Cold North was jolted out of peaceful contemplation by the realization that his old path had been destroyed, and that he did not rightly know which direction was home.

On that night, Cold North took a shimmering piece of ice, frozen forever by the icy god’s touch, and set it in the northern sky. How Cold North knew where to place the ice despite being lost, none may ever know, but the action was one of peaceful creation for a figure associated with so much destruction and fear. Cold North repeated this process until a constellation taking the shape of a cross-arrow shone brightly to the north. Shining with a cool light and arranged with noticeable simplicity among the more intricate works of Achandasha, this constellation served Cold North well in finding his way home, and would similarly be used by mortals in their journeys.

While all might have ended well for Cold North, Harika’s realm had been rocked by one calamity after another. The encroaching terrestrial realm continued to creep further and further into the seas, while Cold North’s voyages could not be tolerated if they continued to bring such destruction. Now, a terrible controversy shook Harika’s realm. The princess Shisu had run off with a commoner by the name of Shiro, upsetting a Typhan nobleman Shisu had been betrothed to. Rather than simply seek their death, the nobleman enacted a far crueler plan. Enlisting the help of the grim giant Grum, the nobleman had Grum scoop up Shiro out of his home and off to his mountain home.
The two lovers separated, Shisu wept along the coastline and thrashed about furiously, frustrated by her inability to pursue her lover’s captor. Luckily, a peasant human by the name of Mesym discovered Shisu and learned of her plight. Taking her up in a great basin, Mesym aided the fierce princess on a quest of revenge against Grum. Resting in Mesym’s basin full of water, Shisu managed to fight against the towering brute, finally laying him low after a prolonged battle. His fall shook the earth, and Mesym dropped the basin that could bring the Typhans back home, shattering both the basin and their hopes of escape.

Harika heard the pleas of the mortals and rushed to their aid with a tempest to her back. Stabbing Grum’s frozen heart with her spear, Harika melted the ice within and created the first river with which the party could escape to the shore. This water, fresh and lacking the salt of the sea, snaked its way all across creation and gave rise to the rest of the world’s rivers. Shisu and Shiro were given the task of protecting these rivers as immortal guardians, while the gift of safe travels and harvest while at sea was given to mankind for the deeds of Mesym, the humble peasant.

While the actions of Nyubar and Cold North infringed on the territory of the Typhans, the advent of rivers into creation opened up entirely new environs for settlement. Terrestrial mortals who had only heard of Typhans in myths now saw them in the flesh, swimming upstream to inspect unfamiliar territories. Although early years were marked with curiosity and mild fear towards one another, relations for better or worse became normalized. Exchanges of culture, song, food, and languages commenced, soon followed by trade, religion, and even violence. On both sides of the shore, new converts and casualties prove that life beneath the waves is not so different than the life above.

It is said that soon after the creation of rivers, a new goddess emerged, hearing the cries of the hungry and the desperate. Hunger prowled on the outskirts of villages and towns, more oppressive than the light of the First Sun and as far reaching as Rula’s terror. Then came Yagna, Goddess of Nature and Fertility, and with her, the secrets of agriculture. Instructing mostly mortals who flocked to the newly created rivers, Yagna taught mortals which seeds to plant, how to irrigate, and when exactly to plant their crops. The lands she graced prospered, both mortals and their crops multiplied in her wake. Some mortals bemoaned the loss of Patron and the revealed dangers of Vash, but the fresh presence of Yagna gave them renewed hope.

It is unknown whether Nyubar had foreseen the emergence of Yagna, or if his machinations closely mirrored hers by happenstance, but both deities clearly sought to make life a little more bearable for mortals. While Yagna’s teachings revolutionized mortals’ day to day living, Nyubar wove wonders that would lay the foundations for life in even the most inhospitable of places. A massive tree resided in Nyubar’s Citadel, shimmering hues of silver and cyan as its branches stretched beyond the walls of the lofty complex. One fortuitous morning the winds blew through its boughs, carrying with it the seeds of this progenitor. For this was the origin place of Nyubar’s Sprites, tree-like spirits that would take root wherever they might land. A sheltered vale might form where a Sprite takes root in a wind-blasted wasteland, or a hot spring might flow between its roots in the tundra. Seen as symbols of prosperity and a piece of Nyubar’s divinity, Sprites became guarded, sometimes jealously, by the followers of Nyubar.

While these sprites provided sustenance for the bodies of mortals, Nyubar also attempted to provide reinforcement for the souls of mortals in the form of Nyubar’s unseen guardians. Whispering the will of their god into the ears of mortals, the guardians of Nyubar sought to advise mortals and shield them from the nefarious forces of the world. While serving as a decent moral compass, many mortals wondered at this strange, benign influence. From the pettiest of thieves to the most violent warriors, many doubted the righteousness of their actions. While for the foulest this just meant hesitation before transgressions, many an unwitting mortal about to make a foolish life choice was saved by Nyubar's guardians.

While a giant could steal a man’s life and a particularly skilled cabal member was said to snatch away men's souls, Fuku’s followers were more likely to just engage in some harmless thievery and move on with their lives. Receiving blessings from their sardonic lord, chosen devotees of Fuku found themselves with the gift of invisibility. Deciding when one wants to be seen or not became a rather potent weapon, as these blessed mortals developed a reputation as neigh impossible to catch thieves and assassins. One thief, eager to etch his name in the annals of history, nearly scaled the walls of Nyubar’s Citadel. Luckily sprite spores clung to his garb and revealed his position, leading to his capture. Similarly, Achandasha’s Isle repeatedly fended off attempts at infiltration by ambitious thieves who viewed the Isle as the greatest challenge; no doubt such an achievement would have made Fuku proud.

While Nyubar and Yagna push back the bleak, vacant landscapes of the world to make way for more pleasant lands, Fuku has taken the lands of his most devout followers and made them a bit… too bountiful. Misty rainforests, savage and dense, have sprouted wherever the God of Curses has a significant following. Disease, ferocious beasts, and labyrinthine forests make the land difficult for intruders to penetrate, but it also makes life difficult for the tribes within. Ironically, the few mortals who managed to penetrate these jungles were the cursed Yinshung, eager to find places of solitude in an increasingly hostile world. On the outskirts of these jungles, a red mist would occasionally be seen, drifting unnaturally through the jungle growth. Behind it, bodies always remained, faces frozen in a look of terror.

While Fuku’s forests grew humongous and dense, Rula’s grew grim and wicked with every passing day. Neither the light of the First Sun nor the Goddess of the Night Sky penetrated the dark canopies of Rula’s forest, became known as the Woods of Many Minds. While the twisted minds of Rula may toil freely in the shade, the influence of other gods stopped abruptly in the darkness of those woods. Under those branches, the brave Yinshung faltered and mages stumbled over their incantations. Mortals fled the region, knowing the only despair and madness could come out of those lands.

As the lands and seas of mortals changed, too did the heavens. There, both day and night continued to wax in beauty.

The Chromarchs of Tai continued their evolution, diverging into two distinct forms when given ample energy and time. The first of these new life forms became known as the Chromatai, or Lesser Suns. Even more radiant than their smaller cousins, the Chromatai were spheres of bright light not unlike their creator Tai, although less blinding. Wandering the world with curiosity characteristic of their race, the Chromatai found themselves worshipped as emissaries of Tai, or attacked as demons of heat and fire. For when they opened their eyes, intolerable heat blasted forth, and many wished to avoid their gaze. Only in the deserts of the south did the Chromatai regularly find acceptance, becoming objects of worship by mortals below.

Other chromarchs, enraptured with mortal day-to-day living, slowly took on humanoid forms and began to live alongside mankind. Chromarchs that underwent this process became known as Chromakin, and became venerated members of desert communities. Manifesting as humans with skin similar to sunlight, chromakin were seen as yet another manifestation of Tai’s brilliance and favor. However, these beings retained their curiosity, and some balked at their frolicking and scatter-brained wanderings. Still, in spiritual matters the naivety and innocence of the chromakin became symbolic of the purity of Tai’s light, and groups known as the Brightskin tribes incorporated these radiant beings into their society as shamans.

As his followers multiplied and found joy in almost everything they discovered, Tai himself continues to silently burn out. To the mortal eye, Tai’s radiance would be just as blinding as the moment he tore the veil of darkness asunder at the start of creation. Even to Tai, this was not necessarily known. Yet the First Sun could not sense the mortal world as easily as he had in the past. Careful not to overstep his bounds (he had witnessed Cold North’s treatment by Harika earlier) Tai moved slightly closer to the world of mortals, his telesense clearing. From time to time Tai would back off, giving mortals a respite from his heat. This pattern would become predictable, and so the first seasons came to pass. With seasons came predictions and preparations. Mortals could differentiate years more easily, and thus prepare for events like the centennial winters of Cold North.

Yet no matter how close Tai inspected the world, he could not have foreseen a certain spectacle. A light, foreign yet oddly familiar, exploded into view in broad daylight. Chromachs of all varieties looked up in wonder at what they were sure was a distant relative of theirs. Yet their creator, Tai, knew not where the light came from, at least not immediately. It could be seen just as easily as the Sun himself, creating a mixture of panic and wonderment throughout creation. When he witnessed the primitive chromarchs dancing with the new light, Tai knew who was behind such a display; to him it was a reminder of an age before mankind, an age of gorgeous light and innocence under the stars. It was later proclaimed by Achandasha’s sentinels that the Goddess of the Night Sky had prepared the show of strength, reminding the world of the Night’s power.

Achandasha, seeing that many wonders lie outside the realm of the night sky, wished to gather information and wise mortals from the outside world. To this end Achandasha created the Achandaki, brilliant progeny of Achandasha and the night sky itself. Traveling by night, the Achandaki not only sought out mortals for residence on Achandasha’s Isle, but they also sought to bring humanity back under the stars. Rula served Achandasha a great injustice by causing mortals to fear the night, and the Achandaki struggle to dispel these fears. In these days, many an Achandaki were mistaken for just another hazard in the night, and mortals hardened their hearts to their call.

For in the night, sinister forces multiplied alongside mankind’s growing numbers, and the vigilance of a few Achandaki could do little to dent the foul works that went on when Tai grew faint in the distance.

Rula’s servants, chiefly the Wisps and the Order of Many Minds, continued to infiltrate and fester in the crevices of the mortal world. Resurrected mortals barely tied to the physical realm and almost never entirely within their right mind became known as Wisps, and served to spread madness and fear at the behest of their dark God. Only the Wisp Lea managed to retain her sanity and identity following resurrection, yet this single success inspired many to follow in her footsteps. Lea herself formed the Order of Many Minds, a network of knaves, criminals, and maniacs that sought to spread despair in the name of Rula. While Achandasha’s servants could not stop the Order entirely, Lea found her efforts hampered as a vigil of Achandaki outside the Forest of Many Minds decided to forsake their other duties in favor of striking against Rula.

In a ritual that would turn the stomachs of mortal and divine alike, the cultist Balaphon spilled the blood of nearly a hundred mortals in order to channel forbidden energies. While in the wake of the Order of Many Minds there was fear and paranoia, the product of this ritual left only death. The monstrous Onoqui emerged from the ritual, bestial half-men with fangs, claws, and sometimes even leather wings. With a bloodthirst that could not be sated, they spread to the dark corners of the world. With a proficiency in blood magic complimenting their base desire for suffering and blood, the Onoqui found plenty of sustenance in the burgeoning populations of humans and Typhans. From the misty jungle of Fuku to the Isle of Achandasha those beasts stalked their prey, and few in this age dared to watch the stars.

Balaphon himself was nowhere to be found following the horrendous ritual, although many guessed that the depraved cultist was consumed by the ritual itself. The realms of mortals shifted their focus to a new threat; besides the terrifying Onoqui, an equally bloodthirsty man began ripping through any settlement he came upon. Wielding a sword that drank the lifeblood of his enemies, the towering hulk of a man was last seen ravaging the last few settlements residing in Onoqu, the homeland of the Onoqui.

Was this butcher any more noteworthy than the mortals that had begun to wage war amongst one another for other reasons? Did justification matter if they bled all the same? What of the gods? Without Nital, maybe some wars could have been avoided. Without Yagna, maybe mortals wouldn’t have the numbers to enact such devastation.

Who are the gods to pass judgement, now that one of their own had fallen?

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Spoiler :

Climate [Color Key found below map]
Spoiler :

Dark Blue-Green (extreme north): Taiga.
Pale Green: Cool Continental
Medium Sea Green: Continental
Aqua: Mediterranean
Brown: Steppe
Tan: Arid
Orange: Semi-arid
Medium Green: Humid Subtropical
Asparagus Green: Tropical monsoon; savannah
Dark Green: Tropical rainforest
Sky Blue: Alpine
White: Polar

Populations
Spoiler :

Locations
Spoiler :


I would also like to welcome Oruc for joining as Yagna, Goddess of Nature and Fertility.
 
Major: Pattern and Form Enact Selves onto Structure of Reality at Minute Scale.

Minor: Formation of Large Floating Shapes Hovering High Above Surface. Shapes Include Irregularly Spaced Spheres, Curving Teardrops, Other Solids with Smooth or Sharp Curved Edges.

Minor: Enact Approach. Insert Form Upon Backdrop. Shape Into Self.
 
Update has been...well...update to include maps. I stole the climate setup from North King, so he deserves some credit there. Also note that Vash'eth is our first city. This upcoming update will likely see the rise of other major population centers, but for now Vash'eth stands alone.

Point changes are below, and will be reflected in the stats, which are soon to be updated as well. If you have any complaints or discrepancies, please send me a private message and we will discuss the matter. In the end I have the final say, but I am always willing to hear my players out. :) And do not be dismayed if your number of points has fluctuated; things can turn in your favor fairly quickly, and even actions outside of your control may help you (or hinder your rivals ;) ). Orders for the next update are due June 23rd.

Point Changes

Nyubar
Spoiler :
Changing the world has taken a lot out of you, yet your essence is now nearly inescapable throughout creation. It will take a while to recuperate from such labors, but you may still provide gentle guidance to the mortal world. NEW TOTAL: 0 Major Points, 3 Minor Points

Rüla

Spoiler :
Unfortunately the watchful gaze of Chromarchs of Achandaki, along with the blossoming of mankind, has made man less fearful. Yet Rüla's own beasts, along with the newly spawned Onoqui, still cause terror in the night. Starving for mortal fear, you take notice at the swelling populations of man and feel a great hunger. NEW TOTAL: 1 Major Point, 1 Minor Point.

Cold North
Spoiler :
Your walk south was fraught with peril, but a south pole now joins the north. Your giants continue to dominate the northern mortals of the world, but you feel the world as a whole warming with the efforts of Yagna and Nyubar. In your frozen realm you regain your strength, yet notice that the usual winter winds are being partially directed to the Eye of Vash. It appears the Lord of Change is siphoning off some of your magic! NEW TOTAL: 1 Major Point, 1 Minor Point.

Achandasha
Spoiler :
Creation continues to marvel at your works, and not a night goes by that a mortal doesn't weep at the beauty of the night sky. Your servants continue to protect the Isle despite continuous intrusions, although mortals are becoming more numerous than previous years. Your demonstration of power has reminded the world of your might, and even the First Sun's followers admire your brilliance. NEW TOTAL: 2 Major Points, 1 Minor Point.

Tai
Spoiler :
You continue your routine walks along creation, observing the burgeoning mortals as they stretch across the land. Your Chromarchs mingle among the mortals, and each passing day brings new worshipers of the Sun and his servants. Despite being worshiped wherever your light can reach, something feels... off. Vash'eth bathes in unnaturally beautiful sunlight at all times of the day. It appears the Eye of Vash is siphoning off some of your strength! NO NEW TOTAL

Rios
Spoiler :
You are often unseen or disregarded by the mortal world, yet you have already introduced some of the most powerful artifacts to the unpredictable mortals. The portals continue to whisk men through time and space, and only you know where the Icosahedron now lies. Largely staying out of the spotlight, you still have work to do, but creation of the Icosahedron has sapped you of some strength. NEW TOTAL: 0 Major Points, 3 Minor Points.

Vash
Spoiler :
Lord of Change. Father of Magic. Godkiller. Your actions have shaken the very foundations of creation, and you wield the power of Patron, the fallen God of Ambition. Vash'eth, the First City, is full of mages and dragons eager to please you. Yet the outside world curses and fears your name now. Your powers, while unstable, will silence naysayers. NEW TOTAL: 2 Major Points, 3 Minor Points.

Nitäl
Spoiler :
Your cattle continue to grow in number, and the blood flows freely. Your prison continues to prevent you from partaking in the slaughter yourself, but your servants gleefully carry out your will. Yet the blood of this world feels less potent now, ever since the God of Ambition fell. More sacrifices are now required for desired results. NO NEW TOTAL

Harika
Spoiler :
By creating the rivers of this world, you have ushered in a new age of prosperity for Typhans and Humans alike. Mortals now sing your praises above and beneath the waves, although adherents upon land and sea do not always see eye to eye. Still, more adherents flock to you every day, and the thrashing of Cold North made even some of the giants take notice. Your strength waxes, although you notice your storms being pulled towards this new land to the south. The Eye of Vash has begun consuming your tempests! NEW TOTAL: 2 Major Points, 1 Minor Point.

Fuku
Spoiler :
Mortals continue to weave curses in your name, while the miserable Yinshung curse you in turn. Yet this new age of prosperity leaves something to be desired. Sure, there's more people to steal from, and the occasional war-like tribe will provoke some cursing, but people seem to forget about you in these halcyon days. But do not worry, buried within the jungles of the world are worshipers that only know how to worship the God of Curses, the Keeper of Secrets. NO NEW TOTAL

Yagna
Spoiler :
Mortals flock to your shrines, for no one is as popular among the common folk as Yagna. Reaping bountiful harvests along the world's new rivers, credit for this population explosion rests squarely upon your shoulders. While many still confuse you with Nyubar, it appears as though you have have even surpassed the old God of Life and Death in popularity! NEW TOTAL: 2 Major Actions, 1 Minor Action.
 
Spoiler :
Vash,

Godslayer.

Think not that I saw not with my closed eyes,

For I felt your murder: we all did.

You sell power to the mortals

Indiscriminate of wisdom.

You take power for yourself

Inconsiderate of ownership.

You speak of Fate,

And then act to fulfill it.

So brazen as to raise so great an edifice

Of self gratification

Upon the corpse of the very victim

From whom you stole your new powers.

Vash’eth,

The Eye of Vash.

Even now you imagine

That I, so old and blind, knows not

Whom you steal from.

Know

That I know.

And one day,

I will see for myself.

Tai,

The First Sun

OOC: I'll be sending out planning PM's shortly. Great update Ninjadude! Awesome stuff everyone! I especially like the battles in the update, as well as the sense of organic development. Can't wait for the map!

EDITOOC: Spoilered due to intense vertical action.
 
Unlike the Mind and Body, the Soul of Balaphon is no longer human. It is an ethereal creature whose blood magics have been honed to near perfection. While it lacks the brutish nature of the Body and the scheming strategic plans of the Mind, the Soul seems to act with otherworldly perspective and purpose. People describe it as an incorporeal ghost, or a bloody fog that materializes into an outline resembling a human. Few see the Soul of Balaphon and live to tell the tale.

All souls must eventually pass the Last Gates. No matter what pathetic extended half life mortals try to scrabble into existence, The Gates Beacon, and, when the time comes, Nyubar stands, welcoming hand extended, all sins forgiven... at least by Nyubar.

It is said that even the foulest of souls, the most depraved, those who have sacrificed thousands to feed the fires that burn within, look through the gates, and their tears at it's beauty quench the flames.

But Nyubar cannot look through, does not know what they see. He sees only the reflection in their eyes.
 
The Curator, God of What is Left When All Others Are Gone

Description: The Curator appears in may forms, from a colorless man in colorless clothes, to a negative impression of a man in solid space, to a brilliant and blinding light, to a mass of gnashing teeth and flashing eyes and writhing shadows in the darkness.

It claims the dominion of what is left when all others are gone. It is the last solace and comfort of the forsaken forgotten things in the world. It bears the pain and sorrow of all the forgotten moments in time as it lifts them atop its shoulders to bring them to the place deep in the spine of the world. Here, within the walls carved out of its bones, the Curator places these knowledge and echoes so that they will softly whisper their secrets to all who would listen.

Curator is the patron of lonely wanderers, the forsaken ones, and exiles. It is the ear that will always listen to words heard by none. It is the eye that reads all things left unwritten. Mortals come and build shrines for it in forgotten dark corners of the world, bearing gifts in hopes of listening to whispers of forgotten past, and to pray that their deeds may one day be remembered.

It feeds upon the stories, sensations, and memories. It has no desire other than to document all and store the echoes of all living things in its grand Museum, deep within the Spine of the World, where it is said all earthly knowledge and beliefs are contained.
 
OOC: A God of What is Left When Nothing Remains being born from the ashes of Ambition sounds a bit poetic, sure yeah.
 
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