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[RP] Dawn of Divinity

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Yngbald, lord of magic and progress

Yngbald, satisfied with his creation and lacking creativity in what to create decided to take a rest. He had done his work and it was not yet time for a race of his to be created yet. He had ideas but he would first need to observe the other gods to make a final decision. Thus Yngbald slep for an age, making no impact on the world this year. Sleeping inside of his tree in an oaken throne.


AP income:

Rolls: 12ap

Less than 4 ap: 1ap

Stored ap: 2 ap

Total ap: 15ap

AP spendage:

15ap, stored for next turn

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THE SECOND AGE – The World and Its Becoming

Turn 8

 

Once more the world-sphere shook to the newborn cries of emergent beings.

 

Ever the proliferator of life, Vyrnen creates yet another race to add to the tapestry of this rich planet – this time far beneath the oceans. Where once was silence, or merely the rabid calls of the Chaos Orb’s behemoths, the ocean between the major continents sings with the ethereal calls of the Kyrkal. These tough hided sea-dwellers are not quite as potent as Vyrnen intended, but are nevertheless quite enigmatic. A Kyrkal’s immediate family will range from several dozen to several hundred individuals, all stemming from a paramount mated pair – duality is a key feature of their emergent philosophy, as is the importance of family. Kyrkal are extremely proliferate breeders, reaching sexual maturity swiftly and with females spending much of their lives in brief periods of pregnancy. Extended family clans – referred to as Kindreds –  can encompass many thousands of individuals from a comparatively small number of breeding pairs. Often, Kyrkal colonists will only depart to new hunting grounds with a handful of couples, and give rise to a flourishing kindred within a generation. But with this rapid breeding comes the inevitable – food and habitation pressures, and predation. Whilst the family is cherished, the death of one’s siblings to the harsh realities of survival is an accepted part of life. As such, a bizarre indifference to this sort of mortality occurs. With so many relatives, and so many new ones born so often, grief is often short-lived and the Kyrkal are not above sacrificing large numbers of family members in the name of the greater Kindred’s survival. This is not callousness, merely pragmatism. One way to offset this tragedy of overpopulation is settlement of new areas, but this brings with it its own risks. Many are the Kyrkal scouts who have died to the hungry maws of a behemoth, or those who have never returned from the eternal battle of skeletal fish in the vast Yngbald’s Folly. Contact with the land has proven equally hazardous, with Nyren fisherfolk in the few isolated settlements in this part of the world mistaking the intelligent Kyrkal for mere beasts, or perhaps mythical sea monsters to be hunted for fame. Nevertheless, the Kyrkal remain undaunted and in all likelihood will have spread around the world-sphere’s oceans in a few turns of the divine game. Whatever the future holds for the Kyrkal, they will perhaps have to master their use of resources and curtail their own numbers – lest they breed themselves to extinction.

 

Overjoyed with the fantastic dual-victory/defeat/draw he had taken part in with Exitius, Ixthalizzum turned his attention to more creative pursuits. Altering the form of the bestial, jibbering Ixkin, the mad god adds sentient life to the Underpaths... although “sentient” is a rather subjective term for many of them. Like their creator, many of these new Thallites are utterly insane, mentally stunted or downright weird. Still, a good number possess that greatest of traits common to Ixthalizzum – imagination! And with imagination comes ingenuity. Namely, the ingenuity to use your crazed brethren as food if there’s simply no use to be gained from them! As well as the potential for mania is the great inherent skill these mad cephalopods have for magic. It seems the Ix-given thoughts constantly scrawling through their brains have gifted them quite the inspiration for magic, and some have discovered the runic script quite by accident with something as innocent as blood doodling. For now, the Thallites have established a rudimentary tribal society in the Underpaths, for the most part consisting of a strict hierarchy reaching from the sane and magically gifted to the stunted yet useful slaves and further down to the gibbering walking meals. Day to day affairs largely concerned with defending against or distracting their lesser evolved Ixkin brethren and the myriad horrors clash with them regularly courtesy of Wol-Kot’s original act of life creation in the great caves. Their techniques are many, from the simple application of protective wards, to the altogether more hilarious use of a stampede of mad Thallites to draw off a hunting pack. Who knew that getting the mentally disabled to run gleefully to their doom was as simple as pointing and shouting?

 

After proselytising to the Nyren of the River, Kaha-Nu-Buhu adds an altogether more sinister force into the world on their very doorstep. Soon tales of horror fill the meeting places of the Nyren faithful, tales of massive flying beasts descending from above to ****** away friends and family, carrying them off to places unknown. Their loved ones search for their souls in the afterlife, and those capable of it in the dreamworld, but are horrified to find nothing. The disappeared have no place in the afterlife, for that is reserved for those whose souls are intact. The vile Pati, however, deny their victims the gift of their mother goddess. These winged horrors carry their prey back to foul nest spires in the foothills and taller forests of the northern swamplands, places of drug-addled imprisonment and cattle-hood for those taken, perpetually kept in a dream-like state while the soul ichor their dread captors crave is sucked from the deepest recesses of their being. Upon awakening into the world, these beings were cursed with a foul fate by their creator, to be born without soul ichor of their own, and this fate drove them to even fouler impulses. Finding the the ichor of thinking beings to be of far sweeter sustenance than feeding on mere flesh-food animals, the Pati stalk the blood-lit skies of the night for isolated pockets of Nyren habitation. Dark legend and terrible myth comes to fruition in the terrified hearts of Kaha-Nu-Buhu’s faithful on the Soul Coast, as the passing of the Madman’s Moons can turn day to night – triggering a baleful fate for those caught to close to a stalking Pati. The passing orbits of Ix, Thal and Izzum work not only to the Pati’s favour, however, as the moons reflect the light of the distant sun back into the night, illuminating stalking Pati for the keen aim of Nyren hunters. Casualties occur on both sides, but the Pati continue to reap their silent tally upon the Nyren of the River. At the largest of the River Nyren gatherings, near Kaha’s sacred temple, priests and shamans pray for deliverence to their lion idols of Vu’u for deliverence. Little do they know that the avatar’s mistress is the architect of their horror.

 

The creation of new life is not the only godly occurence this turn, for the dreaming lord Wol-Kot turns his covetous gaze to the Adamantine Tree and the Eye of Yngbald. Delivering his command to the Nyren shaman Sylvaniel via the ellusive Thokub-Nir, Wol-Kot offered the priestess immense power and knowledge in exchange for carrying to him the jewel of the mage-god. So offensive was the Eye’s existence to a being as secretive and mistrusting, Wol-Kot bade Sylvaniel enter the Tree’s heart before any of her other kin could use it. No mortal before had been given such a direct task by a deity, nor one so antagonistic to a sibling god. Nonetheless, Sylvaniel, ever curious and ever ambitious, went forth to fulfill the Dreamer’s request. In the labyrinthine passages of the Tree, Sylvaniel worked tirelessly to pass the final runic tests that her fellows had so far failed to unravel. Sure enough, with time, effort, and the work of Thokub-Nir in isolating the Tree from the Forest Nyren, Sylvaniel breached the inner sanctum. She was confronted with an awe inspiring sight, the very air thrumming with magic, sigils emblazoning the air and wood. In the ceiling far above she saw runes spelling out the very history of all that has happened in Creation, an awesome sight as the runes themselves continued to form before her eyes. It would take a lifetime to decipher it all... but that was not her goal. Sylvaniel steeled her mind and continued on to the chamber of the Eye. Upon touching it she was graced with prescient vision of whatever she wished, and wisely deducted that the unguarded mind would be driven mad. Wresting her gaze from the eye, Sylvaniel covered it in cloth and spirited it out of the Tree. Thokub-Nir waited there. ((Note to Wolcott – seeings as each turn here is about 500 years, if you want to god-touch Sylvaniel, we’ll just say you did it then. God-touching effectively makes a sentient immortal if cast on an individual and not a dynasty, so include how she spent the last few centuries in your post.))

 

As the unnatural fog lifted from the Tree, the Forest Nyren’s shamans scrambled to their prize. They were shocked to find the last of the puzzles that they had hoped to overcome already solved, and the way laid open. Sylvaniel is missed, but not suspected – for so many went missing trying to reach the Tree in the dark days. Despite their confusion, they were as awed as the traitorous Sylvaniel to see the heart of the Adamantine Tree. Over the next few generations it becomes a place of great learning for these Nyren shamans, becoming the most adept magic users heretofore seen on the World-Sphere. Perhaps this is thanks to Wol-Kot and Sylvaniel, or perhaps the Nyren would have opened the way on their own. Either way, the shamans can tell something is missing from the inner sanctum and have their distinct suspicions about the unnatural fog. They will spend the rest of their lives, and the lives of their apprentices, attempting to decipher the world-sphere’s history from the writings there. The Eye’s theft aside, all is going along comfortably according to Yngbald’s design.

 

Sleeping gods sleep, biding their time and their power. Yngbald is among them, as is Skatal. Exitius is silent too, perhaps licking his wounds... or conserving his power for a counter-offensive against the contrary-god.

 

 

Most fractious though is news rippling out from the Void in a familiar tone. Lavrat-es, creator of the world-sphere, has been artifacted. She becomes the AXIS OF THE WORLD, a sceptre with the power to reshape reality akin to a deity’s abilities. ((Allows mortals to use shape land and shape climate)). The AXIS falls into familiar territory, at the heart of Lavrat-es’ bizarre pocket dimension, in her tower there. Guarded by her now orphaned titans.

 

 


Minor Occurences:

 

The Nyren of the South establish sustainable agriculture, a first for the sentients. Surely influenced by the Herdstone’s civilising influence.

 

The Nyren of Skatal’s continent migrate away from their previous plague stricken settlements, which are swiftly overrun with crawler shrooms and skatalkin.

 

A far southern Ravaniin nest-village makes somewhat peaceful contact with the Nyren of the Forest. This most northern clan of the Forest Nyren have moved there to avoid the spooky happenings at the Adamantine Tree. Though neither side is quite capable of understanding each other, at the very least there hasn’t been a genocide.

 

Populations of Dragons (non-sentient) are now present on most of the world’s mountain ranges, having fled Exitium centuries ago.

 

The first Worm explorer survives a trip into the Underpaths a significant distance and returns to tell the tale. It’s experience is largely unpleasant and unflattering, encountering mostly feuding horrors and Ixkin which it effortlessly consumed, but reported to the others that its dreams felt far more intense down beneath the sands. This intrigues the explorer’s Cast, and the news quickly spreads throughout Worm “society”.

 


 

MAP:

 

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Because small Nyren tribes are all over the place I’ve only included the largest/most prominent groups. Red hex on Exitium marks the place that’s been nuked.

 

AP ROLLS:

Wol-Kot – 9+3

Vyrnen – 6+3

Skatal – 10

Yngbald – 5

Ixthalizzum – 6+3

Exitius – 7

Kaha-Nu-Buhu – 9+3

Bruk – ARTIFACTED

Do-rah – ARTIFACTED

Lavrat-es – ARTIFACTED

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”And the weak-minded shall shudder and break before me,

And look upon my works without comprehension.”

-The Temple Walls

 

 

 

And so Sylvaniel conquered the Adamantine Tree. As she stepped out into the mist with the jewel wrapped in cloth, the figures in the distances seemed somehow satisfied. One beckoned her to follow, and she walked helplessly through unfamiliar glades. The temptation to use the eye was strong: perhaps it could show her a way out. Perhaps it could tell her what this fog truly was. But she had had a glimpse of its power, and such a thing could not end well. She followed where she was led.

 

At last, the mist cleared, and she found herself standing before little more than a hole in the ground.

 

Related image

 

Fear gripped Sylvaniel, but only for a moment. She had come this far; she had defied one god in the service of another. There could be no turning back. Skilled in the magical arts, she conjured pale light to banish the cave’s shadow, and stepped in. The cave did not stop. It wound down ever further, soon widening into an impossible maze of caverns. She would have been lost there had not Thokub-Nir shown itself again, its vague silhouettes calling her down the right path.

 

For three hundred days she walked in darkness. The Eye grew heavy, and she grew tired, for the farther she went, the more horrifying the creatures here seemed to be. Every day – if there was a day down here – Sylvaniel crept along, determined to notice the next nest of monsters before it noticed her. Every night, she heard the whispers of the Nightweaver. He spoke to her with pride now, and she saw visions of the journey ahead. She was close.

 

But this deep in the world-sphere, there were things she could not hope to match. Nameless things, which slumbered for eons waiting for the scent of prey. So on the last day of her journey, the Nyren priestess crept over a crag to see a horror she had not anticipated.

 

Image result for serpent monster

 

The serpent was larger than anything she’d ever dreamed of. And as it turned its malevolent gaze toward her, she knew that she would soon be dead – save for the grace of Wol-Kot. Again, Thokub-Nir showed itself, and clouded the beast’s eyes. Clutching the Eye close, she crept past. Soon, she walked on spindly marble fibers, as she crossed the void at the very center of the earth. But her light simply faded into the distance, and she could not appreciate its majesty. 

 

A full year had passed to the day when Sylvaniel finally set her eyes upon the Nightweaver’s Temple. At last, peace. A stone boat carried her across the mercury lake, and she wandered between vast columns, bearing inscriptions in a language she could not understand. It was some time before she realized her light was no longer needed. An eerie glow flickered from within the temple, and she felt compelled to follow.

 

Thus it came to pass that a Nyren priestess looked upon the portal to Soth-Kogarth itself. It was a realm both peaceful and strange, and as she stared into its vast alien landscape, a stone pedestal rose from the floor in front of her.

 

”The Eye,” called the voice of Wol-Kot, reverberating from every wall. Sylvaniel unwrapped the artifact for the first time in years, and placed it on the stone before her. Behind it, Soth-Kogarth rippled with satisfaction. In seconds, trees bore fruit where once there were barren plains.

 

”Good,” called Wol-Kot again. ”Look closer.”

 

Sylvaniel looked down at the pedestal again, and suddenly found that she could read the inscriptions. Many were analogous to the runic script, and described a blood rite by which the performer would sever their own ichor and pass it through the Dreamstalker’s realm.

 

”A final ceremony, of consummation. Perform it now, and see the world through the eyes of a god!”

 

A dagger of black glass rose from the floor, and as Sylvaniel drew it across her skin, chanting eldritch phrases without trepidation, her lifeblood spilled onto the stone around her. There it became mist, floating into the portal, and the Nyren gasped out a last breath as her body grew cold.

 

And there it lay. For a time.

 

After one day and one night on the surface, Soth-Kogarth expelled the once-mortal, her god-touched ichor flooding back into her body. As she drew her first rasping breath, the echoing laugh of the Nightweaver echoed through the great hall.

 

”Rise, Sylvaniel,” he chuckled, as she got to her feet. ”Rise, my most favored servant. You shall have all you have dreamed of and more.” As he spoke, the priestess felt a weight on her head, as a crown materialized from thin air. The script covering the temple walls glowed with unnatural energy, and Sylvaniel realized she could read it, every word. She glanced to the Eye of Yngblad, and found that it showed her everything she longed to see: her old village, the Adamantine tree and its runes, but other things as well. Wild continents and races beyond her own. The many paths through the subterranean darkness. Even the location of divine artifacts, far away.

 

”Drink of my knowledge, young one. You are worthy.” The god’s voice is proud, quiet. ”But when you are ready, you will once again leave this place. You will find your own will too strong to resist, I know. And as you will it, so shall it be!”

 

And so for five hundred years Sylvaniel stayed in the company of her god. On the walls of the temple, she learned the true history of the world-sphere, and looked into the dreams of all who have ever lived. She gazed into the Eye of Yngbald, watching as events unfolded on the surface. Ambition mixed with contempt as she spied on their humble lives. They could never hope to match her power, her knowledge, her skill. Yes, when she returned, things would change....

 


 

[CREATE GOD-TOUCHED – 8 AP] – Wol-Kot rewards the Nyren Sylvaniel in a profane ritual. When she returns from the enlightenment of Soth-Kogarth, she is no longer restricted by the pathetic limits she once felt as a mortal. Age cannot touch her, and she is blessed with an immense spring of psionic power, not to mention her considerable skill at magic. And of course, as the consort of Wol-Kot, she possesses an affinity for the dream-world utterly unrivaled by anything short of its creator.

 

[CREATE ARTIFACT – 6  AP] – Wol-Kot adorns his champion with a crown of vast power, soon to be known and feared as the Crest of Sylvaniel. The artifact draws upon the strength of the wearer’s mind, granting them the power to warp the minds of others. In the hands of the usual mortal, it would be invaluable for the creation of useful illusions to trick others into doing their bidding. But resting on the head of one such as Sylvaniel, it has the potential to enslave them entirely, bringing whole armies under a demigod’s sway. It is an altogether evil item, and has a certain level of sentience itself. As such, those without an utterly unbreakable will may suffer from prolonged usage....

 

Image result for akasha crown

 

3 AP remaining.

Edited by Zanderaw

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Kaha-Nu-Buhu

The Guiding Light

Related image

 

  Vu’u made the trek through the cold swamps which laid to the North of the Nyren. The starved screeches of the primal beings echoed through the skies, and as they looked upon him they flew to their trees in fear. As he made his way to a clearing, a large and somewhat muscular form flew to the ground, standing straight in-front of the titanic beast.

 

“Pati of the Swamp, I commend you for your bravery. On this day I speak to you as an emissary of your architect, Kaha-Nu-Buhu. You have attacked her most devout of followers, the creatures of the river. This is a great slight upon the Crimson Lady.” Vu’u continues, miraculously speaking their garbled and primitive language. “She is a gracious God however, as she is willing to forgive this transgression.”

 

The sky suddenly darkened as the Sun quickly darted behind the horizon and Vula-Marama came to a halt in the sky. Several pairs of glowing eyes within the treeline came hurtling towards the ground, their bodies slowly bloating and their screams slowly becoming more muffled as they safely bounced upon the ground. Strangely, the Pati left in the sky also came flying towards the ground as they sank their fangs into the supple flesh of the Pati-Sulu. “This is her gift to the Pati. Protect the Nyren from outside forces and you shall never hunger a day in your life.”

 

Then, a weapon of great power descended from the night sky and rested upright at the Pati warrior’s feet. It seemed be made of bronze, but at the same time emanated an intense red glow. The warrior stepped forth and rested his hands upon the weapon, looking up to the immense lion hesitantly. “You may take it. This is my gift to you, good warrior. Pass it along to those worthy, and allow it to aid you in your goals. Conquer, Adapt, Thrive. But never harm those whom the Guiding Light deemed worthy to praise her.”

 

Related image

 

[5 AP] – Create Sub-Race

Through her Avatar, Vu’u, Kaha-Nu-Buhu transforms nearly a quarter of the most sated of the Pati into bloated, tormented creatures known to the Pati as the Pati-Sulu. Their wings would become useless as their bodies fill with ichor, weighing them down immensely as they overflow with blood. They would become blood bags to be consumed by their kin, still denied entrance to the afterlife despite the presence of souls.

[4 AP] – Command Avatar

Kaha-Nu-Buhu sends Vu’u to journey to the swamp lands. There he would call out to the fleeting, bat-like forms. He would tell them to protect the nearby Nyren of the River, for they were chosen by the patron of these lands and creator of the Pati, Kaha-Nu-Buhu.

[6 AP] – Create Artifact

Kaha-Nu-Buhu grants a spear of immeasurable strength, Masina-I-Le-Lagi, to the strongest of the Pati. The spear would imbue it’s wielder with the ability to see any opponent’s weaknesses, physical or mental, and give them the means to exploit it. Not only this, any this, but any creatures killed with the spear would have their soul imbued into the wielder to further enhance their strength.

 

0 AP Remaining

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“Fear the spider! Fear the octopus! Fear the raven! Fear the crag! Fear the dragon! Fear the pati! But most of all, fear the unafraid--they’re the ones that will probably get you!”

-Ixthalizzum, God of Indecision, Confusion, Derangement, and Irony.

 


How his lovely Thallites flourished deep in the dark pits of the world! It pleased the Changing God greatly to see his unpredictable monsters throw themselves (and their kindred) at their problems and succeed. He was almost touched by their deranged creativity and the magical prowess that only seemed to grow with age. He would keep a close eye on his latest creations, since they would no doubt be interesting to watch!

For the moment, he searched around for other curiosities the world might offer to entertain her with. Smelling a distinct scent of woe, Ixthalizzum cast he gaze over to the river Nyren, who were beset by the soul-eating Pati. He watched in bemusement as the winged devils flew off with screaming Nyren to eat their very essence. Though it was certainly very interesting to observe, the madgod (as per usual) began to get annoyed with how “one-sided” the whole affair was. Clearly there needed to be some sort of balance in order to keep things indecisive.

 

Ixthalizzum Sought out trustworthy soothsayers, priests, mystics, other people dripping in knowledge and lore. To each of them, he sent signs, flashes of inspiration, moments of revelation, and manic thoughts, all aimed to deliver a message to the beleaguered mortals. It was honestly a little incoherent in retrospect, but the Lord of Confusion tried his best 

”Take that which your people value most, and cast it into the great Crag to the south. Do this, and receive a boon-- a boon to save you from your plight!”

Frankly it didn’t really matter what the Nylen did. He/she was just curious how they’d react to his request. Now the time had come to create the boon to beat back the creatures. But what could he actually make...? 

She considered his options for a moment, before giving up on that and using the first thing that came to his mind. He’d just make a big, shiny light to ward away the bats. Simple enough.

She reached deep into the earth and found a solid, pleasant stone. It had rivulets of gold snaking along its face, and it glittered pleasantly when in the sunlight touched it. Pouring her essence into the stone, it began to shine in a multicolored light that soothed and cooled the skin. But to a soulless creature, like the bats, its light scorched the flesh. A simple tool for a simple request! He didn’t bother checking for any other side effects--after all, it was only for mortals!

 

[6AP Artifact Creation] The Moonward Stone: A rock of unrefined precious metals that glows with an eldritch, multicolored light. It wards away creatures without souls, the undead, and those with cruel and capricious natures. It can only protect a small patch of land however (one hex). But with all things that involve Ixthalizzum, madness is sure to follow. Those that remain too close to the stone for long periods of time develop a terrible derangement--usually cannibalism. It remains buried just south of the River Nyren’s largest settlement, and it will be revealed once the Nyren toss something into the Crag.

 

[3AP saved]

 

Edited by Catostrophy

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Yngbald, lord of magic and progress

Yngbald, observed the happenings inside his tree with a smile and laughed. He delighted in seeing great cunning and wit of Sylvaniel. It was a tad bit unfortunate that the artifact was lost but that was only a minor inconvenience. It was not his main goal in any case and he had no doubt a being like Sylvaniel would use if most effectively. But this encounter with his fellow godling had shown Yngbald that he would need to be able to defend himself. If Wol-Kot or another god ever interfered negatively with his experiments he would need to be able to ward them away. Thus Yngbald set himself the task of creating an avatar for his divine being. To speak to the mortals and to manifest his will in the mortal realm. 

 

In contrasts to the fellow gods the avatar of Yngbald is humble. It is a shapeshifter, being able to take the forms of any race so as to be able to blend in and speak with the races. This form usually is a cloaked figure under a dark cloak that hides it’s face. Or any other form it desires. But when the avatar of Yngbald needs to impress people or express divinity it shall take a special form. A form with which to inspire awe and fear.

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Picture of the avatar of Yngbald in it’s special form

This avatar of Yngbald shall be known as ‘Ahriman’ to those mortals it speaks to. With the size of a normal humanoid but with a great knowledge of magic and other laws of the world. 

 

When he was finished with pouring his power into a avatar for his power he took a moment to regain his bearings. It was an odd sensation, departing with your power in order to create something greater. However it was also so satisfying.

 

Yngbald’s eye then turned to the seas. Here he saw the Kyrkal, powerful and sentient beings. However Yngbald found them, lacking. They did not exemplify what he imagined the ocean world needed most. The ocean world needed a more intelligent and cunning being. One with a great imagination and potential for growth. Beings not restricted in their growth by short lifespans. No he needed something else.

 

As Yngbald watched the seas he noticed something. He saw a being rise up onto the surface and take in air before retreating into the depth’s once more. He saw it’s agile form, but more importantly, it’s great intelligence. He intently watched as the creature and it’s pack started to hunt fish near his folly. Though far away from any of the monsters that travelled in the cursed waters.

 

This race had great potential but they just missed a few things. Whilst intelligent they were not yet sentient and neither could they handle tools or tread on land if needed. Thus Yngbald brought a group of these creatures to his undgerground temple and transformed them. He added two legs to the creature and gave it a pair of arms. Allowing it to tread on land and swim under the sea.

 

Then he gave the creature the gift of sentience. Gifting it with increased intelligence, creativity ,curiosity and magic. Making them great thinkers,  inventors and explorers. A race dedicated to growth. Almost entirely a representation of what Yngbald desired most. Making it able to adapt and invent great things. However, in order to compensate for their gifts these creatures are less fertile than most mortals. With it being enough to grow and multiply and survive. But it means that they won’t replenish losses quickly.

 

Finally Yngabld gave the creatures a name, the Myrdians. One of the two sentient races of the sea

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Image of a male and female Myrdian


AP income:

Rolls: 5ap

Less than 4 ap: 0ap

Stored ap: 15 ap

Total ap: 20ap

AP spendage:

10ap, Creating ‘Ahriman’ the avatar of Ynbald

10ap, creating the Myrdian’s. A race of sea creatures that Yngbald forcefully evolved

Edited by Roberik

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Vyrnen:

Guardian of all earthly creatures.

 

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Vyrnen begins to explore the world that its brethren have created. Going to the shattered mountain in the middle, to the many landmarks that the gods created. It looked down upon all of the sentients it had created. The Nyrnen were still Vyrnen’s pride and joy. Yet they have strayed far from the path that the Guardian of all Earthly creatures had created them for. The influences and actions of other deities have plagued and clouded their minds. However the Ravaniin were untouched, savages compared to the Nyrnen however they still have potential.

 

To protect the Ravaniin, Vyrnen creates an avatar to guard these beings from the other gods and their dastardly avatars. This avatar would be able to take the form of a Ravaniin to blend in with their society. Helping them advance so they may stand a chance in this world.

 

After this creation Vyrnen returns to its island, resting for the time being.

 

Ap used

10 Use to create an avatar

1 Avatar left

 

Edited by HyperionSibuna

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A mournful Exitius stalked his lonely kingdom, now a shattered realm. Most of his dragons fled, his mountain destroyed and his creations broken.

 

He came upon a pack of cowering Venandi, who had hidden underground while the Battle had raged, clearly thinking the Underway safer than the wrath of two deities.

 

Looking upon his children, Exitius felt pity, and so he willed into them greater power, status, greater life.

 

For millennia, these creatures had hunted using their savage wits and wicked weapons, and that gift would serve them well now.

 

Of all the creatures to roam the earth, the Venandi would be the most savage and warlike - but also the greatest tacticians and strategists. From their ranks would spring warriors of myth, and generals of legend. 

 

Furthermore, Exitius removed his race from Exitium, scattering them across the World-Sphere to begin their new born civilisation, with many rivals to choose from.

 

-Create Race - 10 AP

 

5 AP remains.

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THE SECOND AGE – The World and Its Becoming

Turn 9

 

Spoiler

 

 

 

And so it came to pass that a new form of being was brought into existence. The stuff of the void wrought into form is one thing, sentience another. But to suffuse a creation with the very essence of divinity, to make sacred the profane... that is an act unlike any other. Akin to the Overgod. As her last breath was rattled in the pallid air of the Temple, so was Sylvaniel reborn as the first of the god-touched. Gifted to her is but a whisper of the power of a god, as a god is but a whisper of Ao, but a whisper is enough. Already her life is extended long, long beyond the limits of traditional mortality, her mind and body altered to be a vessel for immense power now within. As decreed, Sylvaniel is now Wol-Kot’s favoured servant, but as she is now akin to the divine she is not bound to his will. Truely, she is grateful... but will her interests always align with his? Time will tell. For now, Sylvaniel spends her centuries reading the Temple walls, viewing the world through the Eye, and exploring the dreamscape of Soth-Kogarth.

 

From the blasted wastes of Exitium are the Venandi pack hunters delivered, being sent forth to the lands on the northern border of the Crag of Ixthalizzum, south of the Nyren of the River. There their lord transforms them into sentients, eschewing claw and tooth for the certainty of the spear and the axe. Now a bipedal lupine people, the Venandi retain their strong pack hunter instincts and the gaze of the predator. Their packs settle their new lands quickly, and soon remember their old instincts for battle, and newer ones for conquest and war. Within a few sparse decades, Venandi raiding parties were sighted in Nyren territories across the south of the Great Continent, loping into range on all fours then rising to kill with claw and spear. They fight for resources, for food, captives and the honour of combat. Even the Nyren of the River begin to feel the pressure, until the arrival of their new saviours.

 

Ever the enigma, Kaha-Nu-Buhu ends the predations of her newest children by transforming many of them into ghastly feeding bags for their starving kin. As Vu’u decreed, their assaults on the Nyren are ceased and many prisoners are returned to the edges of Nyren territory, drained, emaciated, but perhaps grateful for still being alive. Relations between the Pati and Nyren of the River remain strained for many decades, even with consiliatory approaches by Pati warriors, who descend with dark glee upon raiding packs of Venandi warriors. The First Wielder of Kaha’s Spear ((I’m not typing that name out)) takes a leading position among the Pati communities, spreading the word of Vu’u’s decree to the most distant of Pati colonies. Upon his death, the Spear is passed down to the greatest of warriors in a great festival of combat in which the losers are devoured and the victory is given the honour of leading the great warhost of the scattered clans. In latter decades, this rite was even attended by Nyren priests and tribal dignitaries, as relations softened and the role of the Pati as protectors of the Nyren became clear. Speech remains difficult between the two for physiological reasons, but Kaha’s intent for peace is clear.

 

But that peace is soon disrupted by the machinations of the mad god. Ixthalizzum had not known of Kaha’s intend for peace. Or perhaps she had, and he had just chosen to ignore it? A cabal of those who had lost much to the Pati swarms, parents and priests missing sons and loved ones, journeyed south to the crag, losing some to the predations of the savage Venandi, but continuing on heedless. Once at the madlands of Ixthalizzum, they cast forth their most prized possessions – many of which included icons of their ancestors, or even idols of mighty Vu’u. At this point was revealed the location of the stone. Only a few made it back the Nyren territory, but those who did found themselves in possession of the moonward stone. Returning with it to the largest settlement they were first greeted as heroes, for the stone did indeed drive back and strike fear in the hearts of the Pati raiders... but soon the madness set in. Slowly at first, the Heroes of the Stone succumbed to derrangement and cannibalism, soon erupting into a frenzied feast when confronted with rumours of their heresies in casting out idols of Vu’u. In a vast twist of irony, it would be the Pati who would come to defend the Nyren from the hungering madmen, only to be driven out by the Stone’s influence. Convinced of their moral superiority and disgusted by their kin’s softening of relations with the batfolk, the Moonward Heroes and their closest followers fled into the wilderness to care for their treasure – free from the Pati, but free also from sanity.

 

Having watched and nurtured the sentients of others for millenia, Yngbald returns to an old project with fresh intentions. In the seas known both as the Ghost Sea and Yngbald’s Folly, the arcane god brings forth a race of aquatic beings to mirror Vyrnen’s Kyrkal. These rubbery skinned beings, known to themselves as Myrdians take up residence at the sight of the temple that once spewed forth poison into the ocean, but no longer. It seems time has softened the wrath of Ao, and the seas themselves no longer reek of death and poison, but its effects linger. The vicious skeletal remains of both the “good” and “evil” denizens of this place in the First Age still battle each other mindlessly, the seafloor littered with the thousands that have long since been smashed apart in the melee. This pull of “good” and “evil” even begins to effect the nascent Myrdians, but the effect is lessened in proximity to the temple. As erudite and cunning as their creator, the Myrdians swiftly establish their homes within the massive god-created edifice that once brought death to the region, and explore further afield as time and resources permit. They use their ingenuity and skill to bring back living plant species to the seafloor surrounding the temple, and herd schools of fish into the area for easy farming. The dead still roam but, thanks to the Myrdians, life is returning to Yngbald’s Folly. fckin fetish dolphins

 

Also of note are the creation of two avatars, an unnamed Ravaniin shaped creature by Vyrnen, acting as their guardian, and the armoured nyrenoid sorceror known as Ahriman by Yngbald. Time will tell how these agents of the divines will be utilised.

 

 


Minor Occurences:

 

The Thallites manage to establish a relatively safe and stable honeycomb of tunnels within the chaotic mess of the Underpaths. They begin to construct a rudimentary polity down there in the deep dark, expanding slowly using the age old method of feeding the insane to the horrors, and then following it up with a barrage of magic – some of it actually having the intended effect and not just turning the user into a living grenade!

 

The Nyren of the Forest continue their deep fascination with the Adamantine Tree, and its wellspring of magical knowledge. Already they have gained a rudimentary understanding of how the universe was created, and of the many different divinities. Rudimentary cults to each begin to develop, with Yngbald’s cult naturally being paramount. Shamans, priests, and secular-focused scholars all work and study in harmony within the tree.

 

 

 


 

MAP:

 

pO5X59E.jpg

 

 

Because small Nyren tribes are all over the place I’ve only included the largest/most prominent groups. Red hex on Exitium marks the place that’s been nuked.

 

AP ROLLS:

Wol-Kot – 10+3

Vyrnen – 7+3

Skatal – 5

Yngbald – 7+1

Ixthalizzum – 5+3

Exitius – 7+1

Kaha-Nu-Buhu – 6+3

Bruk – ARTIFACTED

Do-rah – ARTIFACTED

Lavrat-es – ARTIFACTED

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And so the Venandi waged war against all who opposed then - Warpacks and Warbands roving far and near in that ceaseless thirst for blood, Great Chiefs and Kings rising and falling, oft to the very swords they led for a time, constant, brutal conflict, with little to show for it.

 

The nature of this battle displeased Exitius, who had expected more from his creatures than a pointless lust for blood. Oh, for sure, there were great kings and generals among their numbers, leading their warriors to incredible victories over their does, but it was bland, and constant. Achieving victory simply delayed the inevitable defeats. The Venandi could win, but lacked the power to capitalise on those winnings.

 

Part of the God of Destruction wondered if it had been his fault, his fault for not providing enough talent for magic and ingenuity. That could be fixed, though, with a little tinkering.

 

And so, over the course of decades, Exitius blended into the numbers of the Venandi in their own form, rising to power not as a general, but as a great practitioner of the magic he had helped to create. War Sorcerer, Battle Mage, the Venandi called him, and in his desire to fix the flaws of his creations, the God gave them power.

 

Over the Venandi, great magical power was wielded. He searched, ceaselessly, for those baring the spark, for either magic or creation, and twisted their talent to greater levels. And then, in a cruel ceremony of blood magics, Exitius created the first of the Kin.

 

Identical to Venandi, save for the dragon scale curling around their forearms and lower legs, the Kin were created to fulfill the needs of Venandi society. Great Sorcerers and Craftsmen, they wield magic marked by the hands of Exitius, benefitting Venandi society by either following Warpacks to battle as War Sorcerers, or forging arms and armour imbued with their own peculiar magic.

 

The Kin, however, can only be created by another Kin. Snatched at the first sign of a Spark, Venandi pups are subjected to brutal and cruel trials, and finally transformed upon reaching puberty in a ritual that is like to kill as much as change.

 

Satisfied with this, Exitius turned his eyes to other matters, as he pondered his Great Serpents and the uses he had for them.

 

Returning to Exitium, the Lord of Chaos began to reforge that which had been destroyed, carving bone, tendon and sinew from the very air into which it had been blasted. Again, Exitius gave flesh to his Godly form, inhabiting the Great Dragon with a shard of his soul, and setting off to the Mountains near Ixthalizzum's chasm, to watch his creations grow...

 

-Creation of a sub-race, the Kin, Venandi blessed with magical abilities not apparent in their lesser brethren. 5 AP

 

-Recreation of the Great Dragon, Exitius' avatar. 5 AP

 

3 AP remaining.

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”1 cup unsalted butter

2 cups sugar

5 eggs

3 cups flour

1 tablespoon baking soda”

-The Temple Walls

 

 

 

Much was occurring on the surface, and the dreaming god watched it with quiet interest. So, too, did his half-mortal servant. For a thousand years now, the Nyrnen priestess had seen the world as a god does, and had come to see its inhabitants as little more than pawns put there for her entertainment. Their lives were brief and narrow, their ambitions narrower, constrained by their puny lifespans. After this long in the temple, she could manipulate the world in ways they could only dream of, and knew it in a way they could never hope to. When she was bored she would wander the tunnels at the world’s core, and found that the horrors there no longer could threaten her.

 

Soth-Kogarth, too, had often been the scene of her explorations, and through her forays into that changing landscape she had come to know something of her god. He was patient and aloof, and though his thoughts were abstract she could sense a deeper plan, one which she had no doubt he would reveal in time. But Soth-Kogarth was as vast as the power of her creator, and however far she walked she would never truly grasp his full majesty. Wol-Kot would speak to her when he was ready. For now, he was conserving his strength.

 

Of course, the Nightweaver had not said anything in well over two hundred years. And though there was still vast knowledge to be found here, Sylvaniel found herself becoming restless....

 


 

NO ACTIONS

 

16 AP SAVED

Edited by Zanderaw

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Yngbald, lord of magic and progress

As he looked down at the Nyren Yngbald felt proud but also conflicted. What should he do during this age, he could grant great technologies to these peoples, he could modify them or he could grant them a gift.

Yes a gift, that would do but what could he gift to the Nyren. Could he give them knowledge, a book ? No, the great tree itself was already a gift in that regard. Rather he needed to give these people something to protect themselves. Something to defend themselves from danger and to use the knowledge gathered from his tree to it’s maximum effectiveness. Something to create a greater gateway to magic and something to draw more magic from the void. But what kind of item could do that. 

 

Then Yngbald got a flash of an object. An object that could draw runes on the ground in order to do powerful rituals as well as allow an individual greater acces to magic and the ability to manipulate it further. The ability to manipulate the essence of a spell and allow for easier spell creation. Though the object also needed a drawback. Something to make the user cautious of using it. 

 

Then the drawback came to Yngbald that could be also used as a boon. Any being that got hit with the tip of the staff would get poisoned and their physical strength and speed would rapidly deterioate. However, if a person used the staff for a long time ever so slowly their physical body would be drained and the physical energy would be transferred to the staff. Making it more powerful (if only slightly) by every user/those touched by the tip. 

If there were ever any truly worthy individuals Yngbald would give them an antidote but until then he would not. 

And as such Yngbald crafted his staff. Capable of great good and great evil. He made use of the element Marydion he had created himself. He made the element into a core in order to allow greater acces to the magical dimension. Whilst the rest of the staff would be made of a combination of steel and gold. Lending it both strength and purity. Yngbald then gazed down at his creation and smiled.

 

He then descended into the center of the great tree, all within being temporarily being blinded by a bright blue light. When they could see again they would notice an addition to the centre of the tree. It was a staff. And all subtly knew it was not a normal staff, it was the staff of Yngbald.

latest?cb=20150806163618


AP income:

Rolls: 7ap

Less than 4 ap: 1ap

Stored ap: 0 ap

Total ap: 8ap

AP spendage:

6ap creating the staff of Yngbald (artifact)

2 ap is stored

Edited by Roberik

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Ixthalizzum ALMOST did something, but slipped over on an ethereal banana peel. 

 

Well, it didn’t matter. He needed to conserve his energy this aeon in order to enact part 27 of his 232-part plan.

 

Or more likely he just forgot. Probably.

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Kaha-Nu-Buhu

The Guiding Light

Related image

 

 

[4 AP] – Command Avatar

Vu’u is once more sent off to meet with the Nyren of the River, aiding them in the construction of the first city to grace the mortal realm. The city would be constructed along the banks of the massive river, hundreds of dwellings and shops to propagate the fledgling society. The first marvel being the city’s massive stone walls, reaching 30 feet high and depicting engravings of epic quests and battles of their ancestors. The second and indeed the most defined landmark of the city would be a massive ziggurat in the center of the river which would serve as both a crypt and as a religious/political center, bearing massive likenesses of Vu’u and Kaha-Nu-Buhu.

 

5 AP Remaining

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