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[FRP] Gods and Men 5 [RP]


Kaun
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The Arkelons grow steadfast in their mountainous homeland. Numerous settlements now stand, a full Democracy now in place, only capable by their hive mind like telepathy. The ability to communicate over any distance allows quick and precise decisions. The nation works in a complete unison of all designs and advancements. Hundreds of ideas given at once, and each understood precisely as it is meant.

 

The Arkelon race feels the pull of A’uas, such a pull of telepathic origin they can understand. Their telepathy is not strong enough to communicate with A’uas. but they understand the message presented. At the center of the pull lies a magical energy, a place of learning for those who would seek to delve into mystic arts. It is near unanimously agreed that the practices would be useful, however they do not understand why the event occurred. They lack the knowledge that there are other gods. From this they anticipate it as a risk to practice such antics. Instead, a handful of Arkelons are selected to practice the arts they can decipher from the pull presented to them. Their aim is to understand the workings so they may develop their own. 

 

A Capitol city is built near the peak of the mountain, Arkon is the name it is given. A temple to Ark is constructed at the peak, a simple pillared topping, ((like stonehenge.)) is made there. It is referred to as the Ark of Archs. It is the only true city of the Arkelons, only small settlements exist here and there. All feeding their gains to the terraced city of Arkon.

 

Arkon becomes a center-point of philosophy, advancement, and technology. The most advanced city in the current world, unannounced to them. However, their peace is brittle. There are no guards nor weapons in Arkon. The entire island has no need of death or violence. An attack on Arkon one day could prove fruitful. The city of Arkon enjoys nature and beauty of the natural world. Art is abundant, design in their structures and items nearly as important as the function. Though they hold no need for water, they have created irrigation systems in the city to create cascading waterfalls and water shined floors. They are masters of craft and development, but faultful for their lack of knowledge of war. Their collective will never anticipate to be attacked unless it is forewarned. But such an attach should be one in the attempt to wipe them out, for any who learn of their civilization will realize the danger of attacking and leaving any of them alive to ponder and communicate unseen.

 

The walls of Arkon are more of beauty and strength than they are defense, there are no gates or doors in the city anywhere. Store houses bare and open. Everything is equally accessible to all. 

 

The population of Arkon becomes 4,800.

 

Ark, god of the Mirror hears word of the calling of A’uas and immediately knows its origin. He leans back in a chair atop the mountain, looking Southward to the mainland. Though his children could not see, he could. The eyes of the Old God were keen and well adjusted to global sight. He could see the Ferals on the beaches and in the plains, he knew other gods had returned shortly before or after he did himself. It concerned him, though he feared for his people, he would not ruin their peace and tarnish their minds with the prospects of war. He knew it would one day come, but he would wait as long as he could before he ever told them to prepare for it. The Mirror God knew that the innocence of his children must be untouched and their minds focused for as long as possible.The Mirror was blinded much-so by the fog, but the mind of the Old God was as it always was. Above all, protect knowledge and the sanctity of it.

 

 

 

 

((Ark Map 1))

https://imgur.com/gallery/NcB6ap1

The Arkelons grow steadfast in their mountainous homeland. Numerous settlements now stand, a full Democracy now in place, only capable by their hive mind like telepathy. The ability to communicate over any distance allows quick and precise decisions. The nation works in a complete unison of all designs and advancements. Hundreds of ideas given at once, and each understood precisely as it is meant.

 

The Arkelon race feels the pull of A’uas, such a pull of telepathic origin they can understand. Their telepathy is not strong enough to communicate with A’uas. but they understand the message presented. At the center of the pull lies a magical energy, a place of learning for those who would seek to delve into mystic arts. It is near unanimously agreed that the practices would be useful, however they do not understand why the event occurred. They lack the knowledge that there are other gods. From this they anticipate it as a risk to practice such antics. Instead, a handful of Arkelons are selected to practice the arts they can decipher from the pull presented to them. Their aim is to understand the workings so they may develop their own. 

 

A Capitol city is built near the peak of the mountain, Arkon is the name it is given. A temple to Ark is constructed at the peak, a simple pillared topping, ((like stonehenge.)) is made there. It is referred to as the Ark of Archs. It is the only true city of the Arkelons, only small settlements exist here and there. All feeding their gains to the terraced city of Arkon.

 

Arkon becomes a center-point of philosophy, advancement, and technology. The most advanced city in the current world, unannounced to them. However, their peace is brittle. There are no guards nor weapons in Arkon. The entire island has no need of death or violence. An attack on Arkon one day could prove fruitful. The city of Arkon enjoys nature and beauty of the natural world. Art is abundant, design in their structures and items nearly as important as the function. Though they hold no need for water, they have created irrigation systems in the city to create cascading waterfalls and water shined floors. They are masters of craft and development, but faultful for their lack of knowledge of war. Their collective will never anticipate to be attacked unless it is forewarned. But such an attach should be one in the attempt to wipe them out, for any who learn of their civilization will realize the danger of attacking and leaving any of them alive to ponder and communicate unseen.

 

The walls of Arkon are more of beauty and strength than they are defense, there are no gates or doors in the city anywhere. Store houses bare and open. Everything is equally accessible to all. 

 

The population of Arkon becomes 4,800.

 

Ark, god of the Mirror hears word of the calling of A’uas and immediately knows its origin. He leans back in a chair atop the mountain, looking Southward to the mainland. Though his children could not see, he could. The eyes of the Old God were keen and well adjusted to global sight. He could see the Ferals on the beaches and in the plains, he knew other gods had returned shortly before or after he did himself. It concerned him, though he feared for his people, he would not ruin their peace and tarnish their minds with the prospects of war. He knew it would one day come, but he would wait as long as he could before he ever told them to prepare for it. The Mirror God knew that the innocence of his children must be untouched and their minds focused for as long as possible.The Mirror was blinded much-so by the fog, but the mind of the Old God was as it always was. Above all, protect knowledge and the sanctity of it.

 

 

 

 

((Ark Map 1))

https://imgur.com/gallery/NcB6ap1

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Spoiler

 

 

 

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Map of Thessilee, showing the different city-states that exist there as well as the Feral God presence. Birrh’s corporation into Monoliths is also displayed on this map.

 

The formation of the League of the Arginites had not been sanctioned by Birrh, but had rather emerged as a collateral effect of his presence in the world.

Xeripides the Younger lived yet under a different name; now, he was know all about the land of Thessilee as Xeripides the Cruel. His subjugation of the Pellonians had sent a message to the rest of the peninsula: the Arginites are not to be trifled with. All over the peninsula rumors compounded from the mouthes of wise men and simple villagers alike– these Arginites were a serious threat, and might be the first since the fall of Thessileesus to unite the warring factions of the land. Many began preparing their people for a fight. The omens clearly pointed to this: the monoliths that had descended from the sky and perched themselves near all cities save the ruins of Thessileesus were omens.

 

Xeripides would continue his expansion. But he knew this would not be easy. He had consulted with Adelfa the Oracle, who had showed him the wonders of his new god Birrh. This Birrh was difficult to understand. Xeripides found his powers mysterious yet useful, but he did not respect the diety yet. Adelfa urged him to worship Birrh:

 

“Your chariots and your bronze; your acqueduct and your farms– all these you owe to none but Birrh” she said with conviction.

“And who is this arcane diety that pretends to control fate and claims to hold the secrets to the world?” asked Xeripides.

“He is the same diety that brought down the monoliths, inscribed upon them these great secrets for all to see and revel in!” demanded Adelfa.

 

Xeripides rubbed his beard as he looked at the map of the penninsula spread before him. He looked where his scouts had marked the locations of these new monoliths. “I wish to speak to this God of yours face to face,” demanded Xeripides, Chief of the Arginites. Adelfa nodded, and arranged for the first ritual.


 

THE CONSTRUCTION OF THE FIRST TEMPLE

And the Miracle of Birrh before King Xeripides at his Mausoleum

 

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The Mausoleum of Birrh in Pellonia, constructed using the golden ratios. Modest in size, yet powerful in meaning.

 

Xeripides walked into Pellonia. The city was bustling; it had added valuable manpower and farmland to the Arginite League. Arginia’s population stood at a healthy 1,200 persons. Pellonia, however, had been culled: Pellonia, slightly reduced after the raids, now stood at but 4,000 persons. In total, the Arginite league had 5,200 mouths to feed, with only 1,300 being in shape to fight. The harvests had gone well and bronze armor was being pumped out of the forges using systems which integrated craftsmanship with efficient assembly; another gift of Birrh, Diety of Mathematics and Algorithms.

 

Where the palace of the masters of Pellonia once stood, there was a new building made of granite and white marble, and adorned with statues of Electrum: the Mausoleum to Birrh. The Mausoleum had been difficult to establish. The native Pellonians, outnumbering the Arginites but less powerful, had protested its construction: they worshiped one of their Feral gods. Xeripides did not want to risk further unrest by prohibiting worship of any other diety save Birrh, as had requested Adelfa, but he was contemplating this. After all, he felt there was some truth to the power of this mysterious being, despite his strange and indirect communication.

 

Xeripides anointed himself with holy oil and washed himself of impurities before he was led by Adelfa and her host of young women into the bronze gates of the Mausoleum of Birrh. The air was filled with incense, and old shamans squatted around the equations inscribed into the walls contemplating their meanings. As Xeripides passed, they bowed and left. Adelfa cleared the temple, so that it was only them who remained within.

 

“I wish to speak with your God, Adelfa, and expressly” ordered Xeripides “I must have a sign. I must have a miracle!”

 

Without Adelfa’s actions, the brazier at the center of the Mausoleum lit in blue light. Xeripides was taken aback, his mouth agape. The brazier burned, a high-pitched hum emenating from the room: AT ITS CENTER, A SMALL BUT STRANGE OBJECT, A TESSERACT, FLOATED WITHIN THE FIRE. Xeripides stared in disbelief.

 

Adelfa raised her hands and proclaimed “Praise Birrh, The Divine Mathematician, The Aetherial Algorithm! Praise be to he who sacrificed himself for our knowledge! I beseech you, Great Birrh– grant your knowledge upon the devout Xeripides who wages war in your name!”

 

And Birrh, with immense difficulty, uttered a whisper “I am weak...sacrifice to me an Ibex with ratios in his horns.”

 

Adelfa nodded, having prepared with foresight for her Divine’s demand. Xeripides stared in disbelief, yet did not kneel yet, for the God he had seen was miniscule and not powerful as Adelfa had sworn to him.

 

Adelfa led forward a pure white ibex with curled horns approaching a spiral at the end. The tesseract spun in delight. Adelfa brought the scapegoat before the altar of Birrh and used a specially curved instrument to make a precise incision, so that the curvature of the incision corresponded closely to the golden ratio, with the sum of the derivatives of the curved incision adding up to the golden ratio, and let the scapegoat’s blood drip down specially-hewed grooves which fed its blood into the fire.

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The blue flame grew, as did the tesseract. And as the flame grew, so did the rotating polytope grow in strangeness. Now, Birrh had (temporarily) secured more power, and spoke with commanding voice:

 

“XERIPIDES MY CHOSEN VICAR, I COMMAND YOU THUS” and Xeripides kneeled as his mind began pondering the insanities of the Tesseract. Birrh had been weakened, but he was not wilted into nothing. And so he commanded with a terrible, eldritch, and alien voice:

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“THOU SHALT SPREAD MY MATHEMATICS TO ALL PERSONS FREELY, AND FOR YOU I SHALL RESERVE THOSE DEEP AND ADVANTAGEOUS SECRETS.

 

THOU SHALT GLORIFY ME BY CONSTRUCTING TEMPLES AND SACRIFICING TITHES IN MY TEMPLES, LEST YOU LOSE MY EURIDITION.

 

THOU SHALT CONQUER IN MY NAME AND FORCE THOSE WHO DO NOT BELIEVE IN ME TO PRAISE MY NUMERAIRES AND ADORE MY RATIOS.

 

THOU SHALT CREATE TEMPLE-COLLEGES WHERE PRIESTS MAY CONTEMPLATE MY SECRETS– TO THESE PRIEST-SCHOLARS I SHALL REVEAL MY MYSTERIES.

 

AND, LASTLY AND EXPRESSLY, THOU SHALT RID THIS LAND OF ALL OTHER FERAL GODS THREATENING MY SUPREMACY– AND THOU SHALT CAPTURE ONE OF THESE FERAL GODS AND SACRIFICE HIM AT ONE OF MY MONOLITHS– FOR THIS TASK OF DEVOTION YOU WILL BE REWARDED HANDSOMLY”

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And Birrh dissapated and the flame went out. In the brazier appeared a great curved sword made of strange, divine metal– notched into its edge were measurements to standardize the Arginites measuring systems. Xeripides cradled his face in his hands and wept, for his mind was loaded with the insanities of the Lord of Numbers. Adelfa comforted him and whispered unto him “Weep not, and let those thoughts become part of you, for his insanity is wisdom. Spread his faith– for you asked to see him. Do you regret this?” Xeripides shook his head, and began laughing maniacally only to break down into weeping again– Birrh’s directives and his impossible form was much to handle for a simple mortal creature, no matter his kingly status. And Xeripides stood, and picked up the Instrument of Birrh, and left the temple a different creature with a different purpose.


 

THE ARGINITE CONQUEST OF THELASSIA AND PORTOVUNOS

[[MODERATOR ACTION NEEDED]]

 

Xeripides mustered his forces: they numbered 1,200 bronze armed soldiers in total. The army composition was thus:

300 heavy infantry

400 light infantry

200 skirmishers

100 cavalry

20 chariots

10 catapults manned by 180 men [siege corps]

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The army marched in two columns; the first, a scouting squadron consisting of cavalry and light infantry scouts with missle capabilities tasked with screening the road ahead. The second column was much larger, flanked on either side by chariots, which heavy infantry marching abreast, skirmishers at the front, light infantry guarding the catapults in the back, and the tightly-packed supply train guarded in the middle with Xeripides. THE ARMY FIRST MARCHED WEST TO THELASSIA. Thelassia was a well-provisioned port city close by Pellonia; Xeripides wished to conquer it. The men of Thessalia were good sailors and had a sizeable navy, but were wanting in ground-troops.

10-facts-macedonian-army-alexander-the-g

Xeripides first sent an emissary to the leaders of Thelassia, promising mercy and autonomy if they bent the knee (moderator action required). If they refused, Xeripides aimed to divert the river feeding Thelassia with fresh water and use pine-sap and sulfur napalm to set the port ablaze, relying on the current of the diverted river to carry it where the Thelassian ships awaited. Xeripides would not be stopped in his crusade to increase worship of Birrh. THE POPULATION OF THELASSIA NUMBERS 3,500 persons.

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To the north of Arginia lay Portovunos, an important but impoverished city which had walls but was far removed from the bounties of Thessilee. Xeripides had sent an envoy asking the Portovunites, who numbered 2,500, to bend the knee (moderator action required). Xeripides aimed to conquer them after he had finished with Thelassia if not. To coax them into him Arginite League, Xeripides sent the Portovunites the gift of the WHEEL and a priest of Birrh to explain the greatness of the Lord of Mathematics, who was now being also hailed as a Lord of Logic. The Portovunites would be more predisposed to agree, struggling financially and utterly unprepared for war.

 

The matter at hand, however, was the Thelassians, who were a hardy folk. It would take patience and resilience to conquer their valuable territory, which would give the Arginites a port to access the sea and reap its boons.

 


FACTION OVERVIEW, TURN 2:

 

COMPLETED ACTIONS:

Total Population of 5,200

Army of 1,200

-First Mausoleum of Birrh Built

-Farms in Pellonia built– food supplies for 7000 people

-Arginian forces equipped with good, standard bronze armor

-Irrigation and aqueduct systems built and inscribed with the name of Birrh

-Birrh belief rises with building of first temple and monoliths– Birrh at low power and can now perform small miracles [increase from nonexistent power]

 

STARTING ACTIONS:

-CONQUEST OF THELASSIA [[MODERATOR ACTION NEEDED]] (+3000 population because minus losses of their army)

-ASSIMILATION OF PORTOVUNO [[MODERATOR ACTION NEEDED]] (+2000 population)

-Increase farms volume

-Continue mining tin and copper– EXPAND INTO MINING IRON [[MODERATOR ACTION NEEDED]]

-Build two new temples to Birrh in conquered territories

-CREATE TEMPLE-SCHOOL FOR MATHEMATICIANS TO GLORIFY BIRRH AND INCREASE WORSHIP

-BEGIN SYSTEMIC SACRIFICES AT END OF EVERY IG WEEK OF WORTHY SCAPEGOATS TO BIRRH TO INCREASE DEVOTION

 

 

 

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Argenite Events:

Thelassia refuses the threat of war by executing the emissary. No news reaches the Xeripides for some time. In place of the threat, their leadership declares the Arginites a foe, and Birrh an abomination.

 

The port city closes the watergate leading into Arginite territory., sealing it with clay to prevent the acclaimed threat from the Arginites. The merchant ships of Thelassia and warships remain in the river Delta, the water current now dying out from the lack of the river flow.

The river begins to flood in Arginite lands, causing crop-loss and struggling troop movement to reach Thelassia.

 

A siege of Thelassia would prove troublesome.

The guard of Thelassia was at a standard 800, but is increased by 300 to 1,100 at the Feral God’s call to war against the League of Arginites. Word of the League’s threatening nature is sent to the outlying city states, requesting aid. No aid is given for the time being, but Thessapoli and Theapotis express their concern.

 

 

Portovunos, a weak city state declares a vote of the people. The vote is overwhelmingly for peace with the Arginites. They adhere to Xeripides terms, so long as the city may govern itself internally.

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Magic

Across the plane Mages have begun to spring up amongst most cultures as they begin to integrate them into the societal structures of the nations and tribes they belong to.

 

Among the Naevians due to the sheer number of mages within these lands magic becomes vastly idealized within these lands, while some mages worship the unnamed god of magic, others continue to worship Kazotar. Despite this due to the massive number of mages in these lands compared to other cultures they decide to create a joint temple between Kazotar and A’aus Which is able to quell the divides amongst the non-fervent culture of the naevians. While the people are relatively settled, political actions if taken could insight a conflict if mismanaged.. Overall, the Naevian people specialize in fire magics, due to the amount of mages in the nation this form of magic is able to progress but remains relatively simple in practice providing a major benefit in combat, but little for the infrastructure of the Naevian people. Other magics remain in a primitive state within the republic and are unable to be applied further, yet.

 

The Arkelon people find the pull of magic to use magic to be overwhelming. Amongst those of the Arkelon people that practice, it appears as though the magical energy provided by the leylines that stretch across the plane of existence are able to amplify the telepathic powers of the race due to their close reliance of this racial ability. The few Arkelons that do practice this would be overwhelmed by the enhanced telepathic abilities they are given, and would feel a significant change to their mental states as they would entirely lose the connection they once felt with their race, while knowing about the hive they were no longer apart of it, they could think freely, and able to see the morality of an entire race hive mind preventing social change and divergent thought.

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The sensations brought about by their heightened telepathic abilities would cause many to go mad as a flush of thoughts, images, and philosophy erupt through their minds. It is a maddening sensation that only a few could withstand without losing their mental state. However, those that were able to resist the maddening pull of magic found themselves in a heightened state with new powers. While rudimentary some of the Arkelons that could use this new power would find themselves being able to form apparitions, different auditory, and visual illusions that were small but powerful. Others seemed to find themselves able to hear wisps of thoughts among those around them, and seem to be able to be more persuasive than they previously were. Mind magic has been introduced to the children of Ark. Those that did survive the experience without going mad could deduct that this was caused by the others being unable to control the sudden connection to their telepathic powers and found themselves still fully connected to the hive mind being able to read the thoughts of thousands and be unable to control the auditory and visual illusions that affected only themselves causing them to go insane.

 

 



 

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Peace eternal.. 7 years passed since Adonis had taken up the helm of the magic coalition.. It had been a stressful time, however, being the first of the mages to reach the island by feeling the pull of the runestone, and being the most powerful and accomplished wielder of magic on the island. There have been strong divides amongst the followers of different gods amongst this island being a melting pot where followers of feral and greater gods live together under the pursuit of magic. Through recent talks peace is just beyond the horizon, and recently Adonis has been able to get sleep to restore his health after long hours of debate and contemplation. Sleep has been a safe haven afforded to him by these recent peace talks, where he has been able to retreat back into the recesses of his powerful mind, and explore the cosmos that is his consciousness.. Recently as he meditated in sleep he had felt a strange pull. It began immediately after the wielders of earthen based magic on the island finished the construction of the temple meant to house and protect the runestone housing the slumbering god. It began merely as whispers in the night, faint, alien, and undecipherable. Quickly the sounds were sharpened and honed into a palatable and familiar sound pattern. Tonight like any night Adonis dreamed inside his quarters nestled within the temple to the runestone. The voice spoke softly to him ushering cryptic words of prophecy as it had done prior in a low, monotonous, yet ethereal tone.

“With every breath the air grows still,

Deathly cold winds howl and wail,

Raging thunder pounds like drums,

When something wicked this way comes.”

 

These ***** riddles dumbfounded the magi…

 

Blue almost extraterrestrial swirls coalesced around the magis dream world creating a collage of kaleidoscope patterns that pulsated like a membrane of a living organism, making a deep beat that shook Adonis to the core.. The riddles began to shift again to undecipherable  runic sounds which were visually seen within the recesses of his dream. Uttering strange alien sounds, before reshaping themselves once more to common tongue, however, strangely enough they were not monotonous they began faint but quickly grew in volume..

“Adonis”

“Adonis”

“Adonis”

“Adonis”

“Adonis”

“Adonis”

“Adonis!”

“Adonis!”

“Adonis! Wake up!”

His visual dream quickly broke down with every utterance of his name, this heart like pulsation within his mind grew loud and faster, as the previously serene dreamscape gnarled and twisted in shades of crimson, then purple, before hues of brown began to take shape and a yellow light emerged as he awoke from his slumber within the chambers of his living quarters.

 

He blinked rapidly as he was accustomed to being awoken so suddenly, he could barely hear the words coming from the old man before him, a familiar, but normally quiet old man named Byyrni, a once feral god worshipping warrior-changed old sage. Adonis’ vision was hazy and but Byyrni shook him awake, causing him to snap to attention, uttering “What, what do you need old man, you know I rarely ge-”

“The Ferals! They are attacking, there’s no time to explain, you must help us they… ****! Just come Sir.” The old man cut Adonis short and waved his hands about causing the fire in Adonis’ hearth to go out. Only then with the crackling of the fire gone did Adonis begin to actual listen, and hear…

 

The cries of women, and muffled grunts and curses of people could be heard outside. However, this was only white noise compared to the sound of battle.. Strange sounds Adonis had never even contemplated hearing as magic was flung outside. It was war, and it was right at the doorstep of the vast temple he made for his unnamed god..

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Adonis and Byyrni ran past the inner chamber which housed the runestone, it was a vast hall which was covered by 50 foot pillars of sandstone and sediment, constructed by the finest earth mages and made by the best architects found from the many surrounding nations, but most prominently from among the Argenites. Pillars of light came down and runic symbols lit up with blue hued light as if filled by the essence of the slumbering gods dormant presence.. However, this was for naught as the normally serene room was filled with riddles of war as a group of bodies seem to be charred near the entrance of the temple, likely the first of the band of feral followers and extremists that got burnt to a char by the temple magi-guards.. Adonis and Byyrni ran past these bodies and rushed outside only to be filled with sights of chaos..

 

The land infront of the temple was unnaturally altered, as vast boulders seemed to have fell down from a nearby mountainside, the forest surrounding the temple burning due to stray fire magic, as well as large ice spikes portruding from the ground flung from water mages. Adonis could also see the crackling of lightning, as he witnessed all out combat, it was both beautiful and horrifying as he saw the first battle of mages. Arcane energies slammed into eachother and exploded as the bodies of the dead lay, frozen, charred, bludgeoned and disitigrated. The other mages fight, in duels of their, whereas another large group of roughly 10 mages fight back a group of 20 of the extremists, they seemed to be struggling the most as they were outnumbered, only slightly aided by the superior strength due to their close worship of A’aus.

 

Adonis was stunned but quickly went into action as he flicked his hand to the side aiming his staff head at one of the enemies who just recently slew a young temple guard named Junos. Adonis groaned as powerful energies coarsed through him, causing his veins to glow a bright orange hue, seemingly being directed into his right arm and leading into the head of his staff before lunging it forward towards the extremist, sending a bright blue and crimson hued line of fire towards at her, she seemde taken aback for a moment as she attempted to use her ice magic to form a shield around her.. However, this was for naught as the seemingly uncontrollable and anger fueled jet of honed brimfire and flame quickly melted away the shield and hit her directly, enveloping her body in flame which jetted past her, and melted her flesh away in mere second, too fast for her to even scream as she died instantly

 

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The battle raged like this for around 25 minutes, causing great damage to the main entrance of the temple.. The feral god worshippers were defeated, those that ran away either being killed in pursuit or captured after surrendering.. The day was won but it was a pyrrhic victory, causing 50 casualties to allies, as well it was found that around 23 of the conspirators were mages themselves who lived on the island. Those who were killed were given a proper send off, as traditions begin to form for death rights which see that their bodies are burnt or disintegrated using magic in a large and mournful event. Many good men and women died in this event being the first conflict within this island, and the first ever skirmish of mages.. This frightened the members who lived on the island now being comprised by a vast majority of mages but a few non-mages.

 

Due to these events, Adonis who was previously allowing all to enter the island became largely skeptical of others, doubting the intentions of strangers. And because of this, sanctions are put up on the island for now as the heads of the island plan what they may do going forward to prevent an event like this in the future. But for now they lock down the island as they begin to erect defenses, and towers, installing an evening watch that patrols the island using mental based magic wielders.

 

The people of the island wish to call upon the slumbering god for help, but there is no answer to their prayers or calls, causing some who believes in the runestone god to have doubts, some of these men and women calling once more to the gods they previously prayed to for help in the coming years.

Magic Summary

 

  • Naevian Republic now has a large fire magic based their skills are still very rudimentary, many especially those that follow A’aus are peaceful, however there is a group of roughly 200 mages that continue to worship Kazotar that are willing to fight if necessary for the Naevian republic. They are able to shoot jets, balls, and other forms of fire in a range of around 10 feet, however lack long range capabilities in the meantime as they must continue to progress further.
  • The Arkelons get the ability to use mind based magic including, illusions, telepathy, and mind reading of those within their race (For now), additionally gain enhanced persuasion skills, however these abilties are for now rudimentary as well. and bound to non-outlandish abilities, to use these abilities on Non-Arkelons for now takes great strain, being able to more easily use their powers on their own race due to a natural hive mind.

 

Summary

  • Population of island is now 700
  • Temple finished being erected to house the runestone and protect it, only those who worship the runestone can gain entry now after sanctions are installed
  • Sanctions put in place which slows down population growth into island due to fear of feral gods attacking
  • Focus of magic tech shifting towards defensive and combative magics to protect island from future feral god incursions.
Edited by Booklight12
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Xeripides looked across the field at the city of Thelassia. The river had overflown into Argenite farms, decreasing their capacity to feed by 1000 persons. With the assimilation of the Portovunites, Xeripide’s force had grown to 1,700 men and he was now responsible for 7,700 mouths to feed. But this did not bother him much, for the diversion of the river Os had flooded the Thelassian fields. Arginite farmers, being on their terraces, had truncated the extent of the damage by throwing large water-breaking boulders from the cliffs down onto the fields and creating a barrier of sorts so that the river would flow opposite to them and not rise to flood the upper fields. Comparatively, the Thelassian losses were much greater.

 

Xeripides was not about to sacrifice the life of his few soldiers in a hed-on attack of Thelassia. No, for Birrh had euridited in him a better plan. It had been one year since the siege began, and Thelassian ships were beached on the now-dried delta of Os. The city had no farms. With the drying up of the river, the city had no fresh water neither. Xeripide’s cavalry would often slay soldiers who deserted from the city, just for the chance of finding sustenance outside its walls. In this regard, the stubborn nature of the Thelassians was a disadvantage. Starvation was creeping on the populace, and Xeripides exacerbated this by targetting their granaries with catapult strikes– engines of war built from the precise instructions of Birrh with deadly accuracy– to lower Thelassian morale. Their force of 1,100 would already have whittled down to 800 from the starvation.

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The commander of the 500-man strong Portovunite host, Paliorexis, stroked his beard and looked at Xeripides “Shall I arrange for another envoy to be sent?” Xeripidies shook his head “The last poor boy sent to offer peace was killed by these Feral blasphemers. I want their army powdered into dust before we try anything of the sort again.” And with that, Xeripides ordered that engine pressure be kept up on the center of the city. If he would not have Thelassia through peace, he would obtain it through terror.

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The Thelassians were holed up abreast feral-god worshippers with no food, no water, and no ships. Volleys of flaming missiles hit Thelassia daily from Arginite catapults, accurate by the boons of Birrh. Already, people began doubting their allegiance to the feral gods; the powers of Birrh were made manifest– an obelisk of his had parked itself close to their city, and only months later the Arginites had come and fire was descending on them from the sky. Some maddened Thelassians would even begin worshipping the ‘abomination’ Birrh and begging for his mercy. And this fear, this deference, was what Birrh craved most– his powers grew rapidly. And once that fear and starvation had reached its peak, Xeripides would make him final push on the weary and downtrodden Thelassia.

 


 

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Elsewhere in Thessilee, the Theapotians and Thessapolites grew in concern of Xeripides’ actions. Portovunos had now joined this league of the Arginites, and the conquest of Thelassia seemed certain. But these two cities were not minor cities. Each city numbered 5,000 in their population: these were the largest cities in Thessilee, rivaling the size of field-laden Pellonia. They were full-fledged city-states, and their concern for this upstart Argenite league was great.

 

Adelfa foresaw through her meditations of the sacred Algorithm that Theapotis and Thessapoli were considering treachery. With great confidence, she foresaw an alliance between the two city states. And, by Birrh, she knew that this alliance would be the end of Xeripides. Adelfa went to the College of Hierophants and told the many wise, Birrh-worshipping men there about her vision.

 

After much talk but not much construction in terms of a solution, a Pellonian boy answered with the wisdom of Birrh “If the issue shall be their unison, their division must be promoted. And so was hatched the Arginite strategy in how to deal with the city-states of Theapotis and Thessapoli, which were great and fearsome together but weak and vulnerable alone.

 

To the relief of both their houses, Arginia sent envoys to Theapotis and Thessapoli offering NON AGGRESSION AGREEMENTS and TRADE AGREEMENTS to both cities [[MODERATOR ACTION NEEDED]].

 

The cities would be predisposed to agree to the Arginite offers of peace, least of all to get their forces together before any expected Arginian assault. If they were to accept these, the Arginites would begin exporting to them weak catapults, secretly inscribed with runes of obedience to Birrh indistinguishable from ornament etchings. The Arginites would do this for a two-fold reason: one, to increase worship of Birrh’s powers and two, to equip the two cities with tools of war which to use on eachother. This way, the Arginites would leave the Theapotians and Thessapolitans to fight among eachother and gain respect for Birrh before taking their territories in the Greater God’s name.

 


ACTIONS SUMMARY

-Finish starving out Thelassia (no water, no food, and constant siege engine fire)– send message for capitulation [[MODERATOR ACTION REQUIRED]]

 

-Non-agression and trade offers to Thessapoli and Theapotis [[MODERATOR ACTION REQUIRED]]

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Arginite Events

Thelassia held firm for nearly 8 months into the year long siege, but unannounced to the outside, the city was nigh on exterminated. A plague within the city had formed that causes madness and eventual death.

 

The harsh circumstances bred a horrendous plague that grasped the city. The deserters the Arginites killed outside the walls were not fleeing hunger, but the agonizing death the plague brought, but the quick deaths left no way for the Arginites to know of the plague.

 

The Feral God of the city knew it could not win the war when pinched against the sea, and so it had designed the plague to wipe the city to the ground, and hopefully, the Arginites. The Feral God knew Birrh was a god of logistics, and thus could anticipate possibility, but the likelihood of self destructive moves, Birrh would overlook.

 

The Feral God’s plan would near succeed.

 

On the month after the year long siege, people no longer leave the city. A scout is sent at night to infiltrate the city to assess its situation. Low and behold the scout witnesses the mayhem of the plague. Bodies and filth thrown about, the carnage immense as thousands lie dead in the streets, clawing at themselves and others, trying to free themselves of the plague.

 

The scout does not comprehend there is a plague, as it shows no physical symptoms. But something irks the scout about the city, something feels... spiteful. 

 

The scout returns to the command tent of the siege, before Xeripides he stands and acclaims what he saw.

”Everyone within the city appears to be dead, driven to starvation faster than we anticipated is the only logical choice. At first I thought it might be a festering disease, yet there is no sign of such on the bodies that line the streets. Though, something feels strange there. It feels as if the land itself harbors nothing now, as if it is tainted, as if it is foul.”

The scout gives his report before offering a hand to his commanding officer, whom accepts it. The General under Xeripides himself nods as the scout leaves. Moments later he feels a cold chill go through him.

 

The plague had expanded beyond the city walls unseen, undetectable, biding its time. Only nervous ticks may be presented as the madness grows within those affected, though it will be some years before it is noticeable, the Feral God is not as naive or inconsiderate as one may believe.

 

The scout walks out of the tent with a smile on their face, looking over the army of the Arginites.

”What a lovely day to be sane~”

 

Thessapoli and Theapotis agree to Xeripides terms, however they refuse the trade of armaments on the advise of an old ruler of Thessapoli, Markus.

 

Markus was the original Lord of Thessapoli, an elected ruler. He advised the two cities governance against trading armaments with the Arginites, as it perplexed him as to why they would. It had become clear with the desolation of Thelassia that Xeripides prefered war to negotiation, as his terms are unconditional on approach, lest there is conflict.

The request by Xeripides to trade armaments seems odd, to arm his future opposition would be unwise for someone who lusts for war and conquest. Markus’ time as ruler of Thessapoli had taught him to be careful of an aggressive people’s offers. He had not maintained the city of Thessapoli in the past without mistakes being made and eventually learned from.

 

From this, Thessapoli and Theapotis begin to man their armies, of which information is not widely known. The known force of their city guards pertain to 2,000 between the two cities. Every 1/5 citizens. 

 

It would be clear that while Markus lives, it would be dangerous to move against either city. But removing him could poise the same problem.

Edited by Kaun The Elder
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Ark

 

The Arkelon’s are first overcome by the mental magics, but quickly adapt. The versatile race agrees to limit the practitioners via testing of capacity. Not all Arkelon’s can withstand the change in their mental stature, to perceive lone thought is maddening to some. A College is built on the island on the highest levels of Arkon, a College dedicated to the newfound discovery. The head of the College is known as Serene. Serene is the most prominent of the Arkelon’s in all manners, the greatest of experimenters, educators, and learners. They take charge of the organization of the institution to determine who is capable of learning mental magic and who it is best to avoid it or take long strides to achieve it. The city of Arkon blossoms from the advancement brought by mental magic, especially telekinesis.

 

Serene begins development of levitating objects for transport, though it is a slow process.

 

Serene, among a handful of others are known to have mastered the act of self thought. They are those within leadership roles within the city. Though their thoughts are separate from their fellow Arkelons, they are not free from Ark himself.

All thoughts of the hive-minded race, and those of their individual states flow through Ark, as their minds are linked regardless of the new magic, and the link is a part of Ark’s power.

 

The newfound individuality possible by the mental magic’s influence poises risks in most instances, especially since it is among the leadership most of all. Lust for power would be a likely first occurrence, however the presence of Ark in every thought made makes it impossible to achieve.

 

 

Event: Ark and A’aus

A shift within the leylines occurs, something protrudes into the magical world both Ark and A’aus control.

 

Children... children of the gods live again... They cause a disturbance...”

The flickering mirage of a dark cloaked figure standing in a spiraling downward cave erupts into the minds of the telepaths and of A’aus. Ark witnesses it through his children.

 

Something would feel old pertaining to the being seen in the mirage. Old, yet not godlike, though something of them screams that their capacity is equivalent to one.

 

”Disturbance... leads to awakening... Awakening leads to tragedy... Tragedy leads to Death....

Careful now child gods... There is time when you are awake, and so there is time you are not...

You see what lurks when you wake, but are oblivious to what is stalking the night...”

With that, the mirage ends, but a pull to both A’aus and Ark emerges, a pull towards the Volcano peak in the center of the land. The people of A’aus directly below it in the sea lake. 

 

The Volcano begins to smoke.

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Spoiler

 

Eight months later

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The ocular rune atop the monolith over Thelassia glowed a bright blue. Birrh’s perceived the world below through it, looking at the devastation upon Thelassia. Birrh was no fool. Birrh was the divinity of mathematics and algorithms. Birrh knew these lowly planes and their laws all too well, for this dimension was naught in comparison to the complexity of those above it. Birrh would laugh if he could.

 

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Birrh had calculated that the fall of Thelassia would take two years, one month, and three weeks at least and three years, seven months, and five days with 95% confidence. The phenomena of these hypochronic realms were nearly all normally distributed; such was the law of the universe. Using a simple poisson distribution, Birrh was enraged; he ran the calculations thousands of times and none of them indicated, even with 2% confidence, that Thelassia would fall so quickly. Birrh immediately sent pulses through the intraplanar indicators of the College of Hierophants, his priests, alerting them that something was awfully wrong. Birrh was not naive nor foolish. Birrh’s logic had overlooked self-destruction, but it had not abandoned reason for optimism for Birrh was incapable of optimism and pessimism. Birrh immediately recognized the existence of an extraneous variable skewing his contigent’s conquest of Thalassia.

 

With due haste, Birrh ran a ley-line check using his monoliths as triangulation points. He detected the presence of the Feral God; puny compared to him yet a definite threat to his clients. Birrh felt a fourth-dimensional divinity’s parallel of rage. He had to stop his mind from devolving into fantasies about revenge, and instead made all due haste to triangulate what specifically was the problematic externality.

 

Birrh computed the possibilities. Thelassia had fallen within less than half of the minimally expected time. He ran the algorithms again to confirm this, and it was confirmed. His Hierophants had given him detailed descriptions of what Xeripides’ scout had encountered within the city. Birrh, manifest as the tesseract in the Chamber of Mysteries of his mausoleum in Pellonia, let out a screech of spite. Dead bodies heaped upon each-other; a desolate city with heavy air collapsed before its time; the presence of a rival deity. It was all too clear to Birrh, who was familiar with the thought process of gods of most dimensionalities– with immense confidence, he predicted that the Feral God had either deployed a hex or a plague. It was plain to see for the divinity of logic.

 

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He beeseeched his Hierophants:

“HEED MY WARNING. CLOSE THEIR CITY AND LEAVE NAUGHT TO COME NOR GO FROM IT. BE NOT BLIND TO YOUR REALITY. THERE IS A CURSE ABOUT FROM FORCES WHO HATE ME.” The blue flame which contained the tesseract grew in height and ferocity. “ONE OF THESE IDOLS, THESE FERAL GODS YOUR PEOPLE WORSHIPED BEFORE I SACRIFICED MYSELF TO ENDOW YOU WITH MY LOGIC– HE RISKS OUR ENTIRE PLAN AND PERHAPS YOUR PEOPLE’S LIFE!”  Birrh paused, before imploring “THELASSIA MUST BE RAZED FROM AFAR. THIS ENEMY WITHIN IT SURELY RESIDES. KEEP THE RIVER DIVERTED TO CREATE A BOUNDARY OF WATER BETWEEN THE LAND WHICH IS OURS AND THAT WHICH IS THEIRS. SLAY AND BURN ALL WHO CAME INTO CONTACT WITH THIS CITY, NO MATTER THEIR STATUS. HALT ANY OF OUR MEN ENTERING LEST THEY BE CURSED AS WELL. AND FIND ME THE NAME OF THIS ACCURSED DIVINITY, SO THAT I MIGHT RECIPROCATE MY MANIFOLD WRATH. I COMMAND YOU IMMEDIATELY!”

 

Adelfa immediately mounted a horse and called her guard to alarm Xeripides of the portent.


 

One day later

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Paliorexis of Portovuno coughed into his hand. Xeripides looked at him with disgust and flinched: “Are you ill?” Paliorexis raised his eyebrows “No, my liege. I do not suspect so...” Xeripides spat back “I care not what you suspect! Rid yourself of my presence at once! I care not to be infested with whatever venereal disease is endemic to you Portovunites at this particular time of year...” And so it was that Xeripide’s arrogant nature saved him better than could the logic implored from him by Birrh.

 

Paliorexis left, insulted. Paliorexis had been the general who came into contact with the freshly arrived scout who had been the first to encounter the plague. He hated his new overlord...and chose not to inform Xeripides of intelligence that the Thessapolitans and Theapotites were mustering forces. Indeed, Paliorexis had in his mind to join them. This would be a devastating event for the Arginites.

 

Inadvertently, the brunt of the plague had been contained in Thelassia. Fleeing deserters who might have carried it with them were slain and burned in the fields to intimidate the Thelassians manning the walls. Xeripides was now planning his capture of the port-city and triumphant march. He was drafting plans with his generals, save Paliorexis who had since departed, when Adelfa rushed into his camp with her host.

 

“Xeripides I bear a manifest message from the Holy Tesseract“ she yelled in the middle of the war-camp. Soldiers, sharpening their spears and getting ready for the assault they were planned to initiate on the morrow, all turned their heads. “Thessalia has been cursed by the Feral Patron of that city! The Lord of Logistics prohibits any incursions onto that land on pain of vanquishment!”

 

Xeripides left his tent and looked at Adelfa with spite. Already the soldiers began murmurring; he knew it would be hard to convince them otherwise, as Birrh had entrenched himself into Arginite culture seperate from the government, namely through his improvements on farming methods that had increased the layperson’s prosperity. Xeripides wished to yell at Adelfa, but knew better than insult the woman who had survived the wilderness, and lost and regained her sight by Birrh’s will. He invited her to a private conference.

 

“The College of Hierophants has been warned to destroy Thelassia and raze it to the ground. Therein something foul resides. Heed this warning or our people will be extinguished!”

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Xeripides narrowed his eyes with spite “And what makes you so sure that this is the right decision? Birrh– did he explicity convey this?”

 

Adelfa nodded and scolded Xeripides “I had percieved your faith to be stronger, chieftan. You forget your mandate comes from another plane.” Her voice became ominous and forewarning “Our god instructs you to obliterate this settlement and salt its ashes. It is corrupt and accursed!”

 

Xeripides lashed back with rage and went to hit Adelfa, but she stepped back before he could. He yelled at her, red in the face, “Do you mean to tell me that my conquests are to be thrown to the winds as dust? Leave my camp and take your false god with you! I will be hailed in triumph through the gates of Thelassia by its subjected people!

 

Adelfa saw that Xeripides would need to be argued with. She opened her mouth to retort, but Birrh spoke to her “LEAVE HIM. HE IS A HEATHEN. LET HIS PRECIOUS IDOLS GRANT HIM THEIR MERCY.” Adelfa closed her mouth, her skin in goosebumps from her lord’s command– this was the first malicious order Birrh had delivered her. She bowed, and exited the tent.


The day of the final assault

The men had heard Adelfa’s warning and immediately the most fervent believers of Birrh among them, the farmers who had benefited so immensely from his agronomic methods, trickled back to Pellonia. It had been nearly a year since they had seen their families. Xeripides was not a charismatic leader. Paliorexis had mobilizied the entire Portovunite host to return to their lands.

 

Xeripides emerged after hours of planning with his most trusted commanders to face a camp half its original size. He saw Paliorexis’ contigent on the march, and rode up to his general, speaking to him spitefully: “Hark! Do you mean to abandom me at our hour of triumph?”

 

Paliorexis responded “We have triumphed. Our scout told us of their demise. Go ahead yourself and claim your ashes– we are tired and wish to go home.”

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Xeripides smiled with malice “You are honor bound to me, Paliorexis, by your capitulation. I am not your equal– I am your king! I command you to follow me into Thelassia. Do you mean to tell me superstition supercedes fealty for you scoundrels of Portovuno?”

 

Paliorexis turned, and many of his men shook their heads in disbelief and insult. “Fine. I myself will accompany you and your host into Thelassia, because I am no craven and I am no oathbreaker. Yet know this– your hubris spits upon the warnings of the Gods!”

 

NO” replied Xeripides, “For I am godly, and my warning is thus: follow me or perish ashamed.”

 

Xeripides and Paliorexis led 250 men into Thelassia– the rest refused to come. Among the 250 men was the scout and his friends– the most probable to have contacted the plague. Birrh had overlooked self-destruction once, but now, Birrh himself would utilize this strategy to contain the self destruction of his foe. As the small platoon approached the smoldering ruins of Thelassia, they felt a sense of dread wash over them. Paliorexi’s eyebrow twitched, and the scout smiled dumbly, the insanity having already grasped some faculties of his mind. None of them would return.


 

One day after Xeripides’ march into Thelassia

 

Within hours of their departure, the College of Hierophants and Adelfa arrived at the hill where Xeripides’ camp had just a day prior been stationed. With them were 300 superstitious soldiers, chosen by the sigils they bore on their shields– images related to Birrh. These soldiers were indeed devout, having witnessed a miracle here or there, for Birrh was fond of dazzling the mortals with some basic mathematics.

 

Gazing at the unfolding events from the ocular etchings atop his monoliths which formed a ring around Thessilee, he thought of the many ramifications of what was about to happen. It matters not, thought Birrh, for mortals are like flies. We will find a better hand for our purposes.

 

He observed Xeripides entering the city. Indeed, he sensed some distress in the general as he wheeled about the desolate streets. He would be greeted by no one. He would be hailed by fire.

 

From his monolithic perch, Birrh gazed back at Adelfa and her force. He had instructed her to do this, as much as it pained him killing a man who had proven indispensible in establishing his first base of devotees. Xeripides had been very useful– his unending agressive arrogance optimal for divine manipulation. Yet Xeripides had developed hubris. Gods hated hubris, especially Birrh. Birrh would use this as a lesson to those who would oppose him.

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Xeripides and Paliorexis entered the mausoleum where the Archon of Thessalia would be. His soldiers happily plundered all they could find in the city– many fine wares and golden things. Birrh would recieve this as sacrifice. For what was about to unfold would be the sacrifice to Birrh of an entire city, and of a king no less.

 

Birrh concentrated his powers. The monolith next to Thessalia suddenly split asunder, blue energy coursing through the cracks. The stones did not float– rather, they pulsated and appeared elsewhere, as Birrh amassed the powers afforded to him by devotion of the Arginite League. The monolith’s fragments parked themselves at four points– blocking each exit from the city. The onlooking Hierophants praised Birrh and chanted his name as they saw the miracle from the cliffs. The soldiers fell on one knee and raised their hands above their heads, praising the growing power of the Lord of Logistics.

 

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Around Thessalia, the ground would burst in mathematical sequence to form large, geometric shapes, with the fragments of the monolith as their vertecies. A rhombus around the perimeter of the city, then circumscribed, could be seen from overlooking hills deeply rent into the ground. Runes, markings, parameters, and other divine semiotics would appear within the confines of this shape. Those attempting to go anywhere near Thelassia would find themselves in a strange conundrum– as they approach the circumbscribed city, if they were to walk into the circle, they would feel their insides rise as if they were falling down a great height, and they would suddenly find themselves on the other side having completely bypassed the city, having been pulled through a fourth-dimensional shortcut. Birrh was weakened by this feat, but his nemesis was sure to be somewhere within the circle. Birrh bided his time, awaiting for the Feral God to appear and make himself vulnerable to Birrh’s wrath.

 

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From the hills, Adelfa and the Hierophants recieved Birrh’s patent signal. They began showering the city with flaming projectiles inscribed with runes Birrh had given them. The projectiles were aimed precisely at the four monolith fragments– and when they entered the altered temporal field around Thelassia, which Birrh had established domain over by seperating it from the base dimensionality of the mortal plane, Birrh would reallocate them to fall where he noticed the presence of anything non-static.

 

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Birrh’s powers were not to be trifled with. By dedicating himself entirely to one cause through his monoliths, Birrh could amass his powers and concentrate them in one place to creat dimensional distortions that afforded him some of his original might. But this greatly weakened Birrh. His other monoliths were left vacant, and his contact with the outside world was limited to what he could relay to Adelfa. Furthermore, Birrh depended on the Arginites to sacrifice to him daily so that he could maintain the momentum necessary to keep his enchantment on Thelassia intact. This required many livestock, and farmers were initially uniformly ready, but less and less so as time went on, to supply this.

 

Xeripides and Paliorexis, the two strongmen-rulers of the Arginite league, would perish within Thelassia. All 2000 inhabitants would slowly perish. The city would be left a desolate, vacant, surreal battleground. Birrh was awaiting for the Feral God to show himself. Adelfa had been instructed to provide his name to Birrh– once Birrh had its name, Birrh could summon it. Then, Birrh would make his manifest wroth patent to the upstart. The God of Mathematics and Algorithms was once part of the Lord of Forms. The Lord of Forms could confine, delimit, integrate, and derive reality at his convenience– his fragment, the Lord of Logistics, retained limited residuals of that ultimate power. Birrh’s goal was to face the Feral God, one on one.

 


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News of the reckoning at Thelassia had arrived to Markus quickly. The old man stroked his peppered beard in disbelief; Xeripides and Paliorexis, leaders of the Argenite league, were believed to be dead. Moreover, his own men were said to have killed him by firing onagers at his position from the Arginite Foothills upon Thelassia. Some reports even claimed that magic was being used on the city, and blamed the enchantress Adelfa, whom he had heard of peripherally as being a glorified fortune-teller.

 

Something about the actions of Xeripides made Markus uncomfortable. He had thought Xeripides was sly in his offering of a subversive gift, but he could now conclude that the young, arrogant king from Arginia was a fool of the highest caliber. And these talks of magic: the Arginites had truly devolved! The day when Thessapoli and Theapotis would fall under the yoke of mountain-dwelling red-necked barbarians was the day all six hells broke loose.

 

Indeed, Thessapoli had been many a time threatened by foreign scourges. Three times had Theapotis in the past attacked Thessapoli, and two of those times Thessapoli had emerged victorious. The third time, in those days when he was Archon of Thessapoli, they came under the banners of Thessileesus– led by the legendary king Mynaseis. Those were the days of the Thessilean League. These Arginites were fools if they thought they sought to replicate the might of Thessileesus– all knew what had happened to the city of one-thousand towers due to Mynaseis’ hubris, and what doom it had brought onto their land.

 

Markus continues amassing strength for the battle that was to come. If the Arginites were to attack, they would be repelled. But now, with Xeripides slain at the hands of his own soldiers, Markus was considering a preemptive strike to nip the Arginite threat in the bud.


 

FACTION SUMMARY:

Population: 7,300

Soldiers: 1,450

Birrh is capable of performing one large miracle

-The armies of the Arginite League return home save Xeripides and Paliorexis, with most infected having followed Xeripides

 

 

-Birrh concentrates its powers and establishes an enchanted perimeter around Thessalia, quarantining it

-Birrh aims to contain the plague by having influenced those who came into contact with it to enter Thessalia

-A force led by the College of Hierophants leads the bombardment of the quarantined city

-The river is kept diverted to create a water barrier between Arginite lands and Thessalian lands to hinder the advancment of the pestilence, suspected to be a hex

 

ACTIONS SUMMARY:

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-Adelfa attempts to find the name of the Feral God and provide it to Birrh, so that Birrh can use its name to bind the Feral God [[MODERATOR NEEDED]]

 

-The Arginite siege engines continue obliterating Thessalia, using enchanted projectiles and napalm with the aid of Birrh to eliminate the curse threat [[MODERATOR NEEDED]]

 

-BIRRH AIMS TO FACE AND CONQUER THE FERAL GOD IN A ONE-ON-ONE IN THELASSIA, ASSUMING HE WAS SUCCESFUL IN CONTAINING IT THERE

[[MODERATOR OVERSIGHT NEEDED]]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Edited by Kardel
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Birrh Event:

From the heights of the cliffs, Adelfa prays to Birrh, giving to him the name of the Feral God within the city, and she does so with caution and haste, as if a warning.

”They are named The Broken God, Overseer of Reckonings, hear me Birrh, for this creature is the one to fell the old gods of Thessilee! Word has come from Markus of Thessapoli, the old Archon. He says The Broken God is the one that fell the League of Thessileesus by undermining their gods one by one. Each attempted to claim the life of the Broken God, yet soon it was they who were driven to madness and fell upon their own blades. In the end of every war and battle, The Broken God has remained, even when its people are turned to ash.”

Birrh ponders for a moment the words of Adelfa, informed by Markus of Thessapoli of this feral god. Though now the threat is heightened, Birrh cannot sacrifice the ground he has gained from the events that have taken place. The plague in the city is still ever present, regardless of the Arginite attempts to burn and bury it. Birrh calculates there is but one way to end the plague or hex, and that is to find and kill this Broken God. 

 

Birrh calls upon the name of the Broken God, the name echoing through Thessilee, chiming darker and darker as it dashes between the mountain sides.

Though, nothing appears to happen.

The powers of Birrh scour the city of Thelassia. All mortal men, the 251 that entered the city, perish under Birrh’s fury. Though, one would eventually appear to remain alive regardless of what hit them.

 

The Scout, filled with arrow and thrown by boulders from the onagers has been tossed about, crushed into walls, and plowed through buildings, yet refuses to die.

Birrh would notice this resistance as he hears the murmuring laughter of insanity in the ruins of a collapsed building. Slowly but surely, the scout emerges, bleeding, gashed, and broken. Bone exposed and an eye blackened by blood and swelling. The scout laughs and laughs as Birrh attempts to kill the mortal man repetitively. Eventually, Birrh’s calculation becomes certain.

 

The Broken God stands before him.

 

The Scout begins to speak, but there is no sound that comes for moments. The sound of a voice booms across the landscape of Thessilee, old, sickened, and mad, riddled with insanity, but noticeably intelligent.

The scouts mouth moves out of sync with the words that are heard, as they come from the sky and beyond. Echoing against the mountains, the ground tremors gently with every passing word.

 

”Your attempt to bring to heel the land of Thessilee will not go unpunished.”

”Your attempt to undermine the rule of The Broken will not come to pass.”

”Your attempt to bring to heel the land of Thessilee will not go unpunished.”

”The Broken have stood long before you, child of the Dimensions.”

”Your attempt to undermine the rule of The Broken will not come to pass.”

”And we shall exist, long beyond your Death.”

”The Broken have stood long before you, child of the Dimensions.”

”There is no light to save you from your own self destruction.”

”And we shall exist, long beyond your Death.”

”And I shall be its herald, your Overseer of Reckoning.”

”There is no light to save you from your own self destruction.”

”You.”

”Will.”

”Fall.”

 

From the final words of the Broken God’s speech, the city of Thelassia begins to shift and stir. Those dead from the plague begin to stir from their eternal slumber. The Dead have begun to rise.

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Birrh semicorporeal

 

Birrh’s voice echoes one word, and damningly “GOOD.”

Spoiler

 

 

Six of ten monoliths from the edges of Thessilee converge around the perimeter of Thelassia. Birrh failed to understand the continued hubris of his victim. But he would not underestimate this creature. Birrh was infinitely more powerful than this Broken God– and those deities which it had destroyed were feral gods, just as it was. Yet Birrh knew that it could not match the feral divinity in essence. This was a creature of the plane. Just as Birrh was in his domain in the upper dimensions, so was this absurdity in its puny reality. Birrh had identified the threat. Birrh had contained the threat. Birrh would obliterate the threat. And Birrh would siphon the threat’s essence. But all in due time. For now, this creature would behold the power of an extra-planar divinity; one with intimate knowledge of the workings of not just this world, but of the very fabric of existence.

 

As the dead began to rise, the seven monoliths crashed into the ground around Thelassia. The monoliths formed a circle around the The initial quake propagated by this Broken God was exacerbated by the fury of Birrh. The ground under the monoliths began rising like thrown sand, as the entirety of the runes inscribed on their large surfaces began to glow an eerie blue color.

 

The city of Thelassia began to ascend into the skies.

 

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The sundering of Thelassia and its lifting above the clouds

 

The ascent was slow at first. As the dead rose, they were deprived of their abode on earth and confined on the floating island. The monoliths, made of their nigh-indestructible extra-dimensional black mettle, hummed ominously. The mass of land rose and rose, soon rising above the clouds. The ground was a faraway dream. Birrh had recognized the risk posed by this being, and would not take it lightly. He had allocated seven monoliths in total to constructing the perfect prison for a pompous lesser divinity.

 

“Here; I have reckoned and I have been reckoned. Oversee my reckoning.” commands Birrh.

 

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Heat death– one of the laws of thermodynamics integral to Birrh

 

Slowly at first yet with fast increasing pace, the floating island begins to rapidly cool. The monoliths pulse a more intense blue as this happens. Suddenly, the clouds breaking on the island seem more viscuous; nearly liquid-like. The temperature drops, and drops. This is not a problem for Birrh. Birrh is a system, and algorithm incarnate– incorporeal and made of no particles. This feral god, on the other hand...his essence was sure to be physical in nature. Or else he would not be able to raise the dead.

 

The temperature on the floating island would continue cooling until zero Kelvin was approached; Birrh was propagating heat death. Birrh’s monoliths hummed and hissed. With the environment now cooler, like the endless cold of the spatial void to which Birrh was a native, time was now more fluid. And it was Birrh who once lorded time. Birrh altered the mechanisms of this microcosm he had created, drawing out seconds into aeons within the small, frigid space. Indeed, there had been a reckoning. Birrh had created the ultimate prison. It mattered to him not.

 

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The Broken God in Birrh’s prison, where each waking second felt a decade and the cold made even particle movement difficult.

 

And so, Birrh would hope to break the Broken God even further. His dead soldiers would be useless, frozen in place by the rapid cooling; truly, such a cheap trick upon an entity which could foresee even the most latent? Birrh did not mind. To Birrh, this was home. Aye, he would not be able to play with his mortals as much as he had wished, but this Feral God was in some ways even more entertaining. Birrh hated the proud and those full of hubris. Birrh was incorporeal. Sanity was a mortal construct, for Birrh was a master of insanities. Birrh awaited to see how the Feral creature would react.

 

 

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Birrh Event

 

The city of Thelassia rises into the sky, the Monoliths power protecting Birrh’s own from being drained from the immense feat. The Monoliths instead are slowly depleting of power. As the internal decades and centuries pass, the Broken God speaks,

 

”Time is a funny thing here, Child of the Dimensions... It is the bringer of all ends here... In ways more than your simple mind may believe...”

 

As the energy of the city is reduced to its peak minimum that the Monoliths can achieve, near but not at 0K, the dead have frozen stiff and the Broken God appears to be immobile. As the Broken God nears his immobile state, he speaks one last time

 

”Time is watched by many... Time is not the greatest threat you will face...

The-re i-s buu-t on--e wh--o al-lll mu-ss-ttt fe--aa-rrr--....”

 

Birrh’s logic holds that the Broken God can do no harm in this state, their physical form so reduced by the immense cold. Birrh descends into the now sky sanctum he had created, the tesseract form unhindered by the devastating cold. He surveys the situation carefully, knowing the essence of this being is bound to this world much more firmly than Birrh’s own essence, having come from another plane. There may yet be rules that Birrh does not understand in this universe’s laws.

However, no such event occurs, the Broken God appears to out of time and out of physical manifestation.

Birrh would find that the Broken God in this state, upon further analysis of the situation, is invulnerable.

Something beyond reason shields the Broken God from further harm or change. Something Birrh cannot quantify within all known rules of this world.

 

 

As Birrh observes the Broken God, the Monoliths begin to steam, their rock and runes begin to crack. Birrh’s calculation says it is impossible their power has been fully depleted or fully stressed to such an extent as of yet. Something else is wrong, an unseen variable. Birrh surveys the surroundings before realizing the fault, a figure had entered the sky prison, the only available source of the information being the runic sword stuck through the Broken God’s chest and the sound of it ripping upward, breaking the deeply formed frozen structure. A clear, clean line protrudes up the Broken God’s form as it falls forward. Behind it stands an older gentleman, human, appearing to be in his mid forties to early fifties. He has a salted black beard, short and kept. His eyes a deep green, but the attire dark and grim. He wears a black cloak, swarmed by apparitions and ghouls, as if fabricated by them. The ever shifting cloak would cause most to feel dread, yet that was to mere mortals. To god-like beings, it was the sword and eyes. The visibility of the sword the being held gave Birrh a sense of doom, a sense of death. Looking into their eyes he would feel dread, the first time he would ever feel it.

 

The being looks at the Broken God’s fallen body.

I’ve been wondering who caused a disturbance in my domain.”

The voice sounds rough, but elegant in their use of words. They seem well seasoned in character and action.

”It would seem this little pest has caused another incursion on my domain of power, but it shall not again.”

The being looks to Birrh directly, putting their sword in their open hilt under their cloak.

”It was quite some time ago that this little upstart caused problems, but they won’t be any longer. I gave them a warning once, and Death gives only one warning.”

The being scans Birrh’s image,

”You aren’t from here, not at all... Tesseract, so I presume a Fourth Born Entity, Born being Dimension as you would call it, mere phrasing to us here.”

 

The Monoliths begin to descend from the sky slowly, the stress of this being’s presence and the attempt to contain them, overwhelming themselves.

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~ The Last Rest ~

 

 

How had it all gone so wrong?

 

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The Winglesc had been rulers, once. When the wildflowers first blossomed in the fields and the tribes convened for their first moot, it was the chieftains of the Winglescynn who spoke first. Their seers were praised for being most attuned to the will of the gods, whose reign in those wild and savage lands was absolute. Their hunters were the sharpest, their warriors the strongest, and their elders the wisest. From the other tribes that were scattered across the great valley they all called home, the Winglescynn had commanded the most fear and respect. But that all had changed.

 

It started with disturbing portents offered by the seers, whose dreams were haunted by ill omens and dark auguries. They claimed that the balance of the waking world had shifted and that powerful beings had been roused from slumber. They babbled about visions in which they saw marching armies, so vast that they seemed like a host of insects, and claimed to witness the construction of settlements far greater and grander than even the mightiest of the tribal villages. At first, the elders disregarded such tidings as madness, perhaps incurred by the seers’ overindulgence in mind-altering brews. Yet it was not long before signs of change began to present themselves in a way that none could deny. 

 

A chill had begun to descend upon the land. In the dead of night it crept down from the mountains that stood sentinel over the valley, crawling between the tall trees of the forest like a malevolent spirit. It was the middle of the fertile season; newborn birds could be heard among the boughs of the greenwood clamoring for the worms and beetles brought to them by their parents, and dappled fawns could be seen sheltering shyly behind their watchful mothers. Even the briefest flash of cold weather would have been enough to give the elders pause; and a brief flash this was certainly not. Within days, those tribes closest to the mountains would awake to find their breaths accompanied by clouds of steam, and the ground outside their huts kissed by frost – and it only seemed to be growing colder.

 

In earlier times, these events would have been considered dire enough to warrant an immediate meeting between the chieftains of the valley tribes. In truth, they paled in comparison to what the tribes were doing to each other. Skirmishes and minor conflicts within the valley were common – whether it was old feuds that demanded vengeance, borders that needed defending, or sacrifices that required prisoners, the wheels of tribal politics were often oiled by blood. Despite this, the various groups within the valley had managed to maintain a certain level of cohesiveness; without which the yearly moots and organized hunts would have been impossible. Yet all that had changed too – for along with the ill omens and the ever-intensifying cold came a war without end. 

 

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The Winglesc did not know that their neighbors were whipped into a frenzy by the feral gods, who had taken note of the new deities encroaching on what they believed was their rightful dominion. Nor did the Winglesc realize that their command over the region had been a source of resentment for the same gods that they worshiped; for the pantheon to which these tribes paid homage was a primal and bloodthirsty one, and the presence of a stabilizing force had deprived them of both violence and sacrifice. This had been a tolerable nuisance, while their kin maintained relative hegemony over the world – yet now the tables were turning, and the feral gods could not afford to carry such a burden. What the Winglesc did know was that their brethren had begun attacking in droves, without so much as an explanation or demand offered. The fighting had been different, as well – the other tribesmen of the valley were fearless and crazed, as if they had been taken by some berserk madness. Their dead piled up outside the wooden palisades of the Winglescynn, and yet still they rushed onward. The Winglesc fought bravely, but against all the tribes in the valley they were no match.

 

Which is why their people now stood at the foot of the mountains, shivering in the deepening snow that fell around them. They had left many behind in the heated flight from their overwhelmed settlement, and lost more in the following days. Their chieftain had been brutally cut down several nights before, buying his people time to flee with his own life. His son Ubbr had taken his place as head of the tribe, and though his skill as a warrior was unquestionable, he was young and uncertain. For the life of him, he could not see a way out for the Winglescynn. As they had fended off continuous attacks from their relentless kin, the Winglesc had been pushed further from home, and closer towards the cold that now strangled the once-verdant woods of their summer beauty. Either they would die at the hands of their former kin, or be forced out of the valley to perish in the unnatural winter. Ubbr’s warrior heart cried out for the former; he would rather fall a warrior, drenched in the blood of his foes, than die curled up in the snow like a beast. Yet not everyone in the tribe agreed with him.

 

Thrydda was the youngest seer of the Winglescynn, and he was quite the opposite of the new chieftain Ubbr. Thin and frail, Thrydda had been lucky to survive through his infant years; yet his wit was sharper than a hunter’s knife, and the elders had proclaimed his affinity for the otherworldly when he was just a boy. Now a young man, Thrydda was sharper than ever – and he was also seemingly unfazed by the recent tragedies that had befallen his people. In the entrails of ravens and the blood of goats, he had seen the loss of their home. Now, in the depths of his dreams, he had heard a voice; a weightless whisper that had beckoned to him, offering safety for him and his people... if they were strong enough to venture beyond the peaks that had shielded them for so long. Thrydda had shared these dreams with his kinsmen, some of whom were hopeful. Others were skeptical, Ubbr among them, but none could deny the weight such an offering carried; for the gods that the Winglesc had worshiped for generations had turned on them, and all the other seers had heard nothing but silence since they’d been forced from their village. Thus, despite the unease that weighed on Ubbr like a mantle, he eventually acquiesced; and the Winglescynn marched through one of the steep mountain passes and into the unknown.

 

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The journey through the mountains had been perilous for the Winglescynn, yet blessedly brief. The snowfall they had seen in the valley was nothing compared to the storm that accosted them now, and many had struggled to make headway in the blizzard, which slowed their steps and blinded their sight. Fortunately, the calm oversight of Thrydda ensured that the beleaguered tribe made it through without incident. The whiteout had been so intense that none could tell how long it had taken the tribe to put the mountain behind them, but it could not have been more than a day or two. Perhaps more disheartening than the journey itself was what they saw once they put the mountains behind them, and the sky finally cleared.

 

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Before them stretched an eternity of snow – an unyielding expanse of rolling white hills halted only by a range of peaks that could just be seen looming in the distance. The glittering shale of a frozen stream and the small copse of trees on the periphery of their vision were all the Winglesc had to break up the bleak monotony. Yet Thrydda urged them to press on, claiming that it would not be long before they reached their salvation. Many seemed unsure of his words – particularly Ubbr and several of the seers, who muttered among themselves at length – yet Thrydda was unwavering in his conviction, and the tribe eventually resumed traveling.

 

Days seemed to blend into weeks. The farther the Winglesc traveled, the colder it seemed to become. Even the heaviest furs seemed to do little to fend off the cold, which clawed and bit at the struggling tribes-folk relentlessly. In addition, the lack of vegetation meant that the travelers were often scoured by a pitiless gale, which tore at their clothes and howled like a feral beast. Several of the Winglesc had succumbed to the severe conditions – their kin would wake up and find them frozen stiff beneath their furs, or they would fall wordlessly on the march and never stand up. In comparison, the trek through the mountains had been a casual jaunt. Things only seemed to get worse when, after a particularly frigid night, Ubbr gathered the tribe about his tent.

 

“Brothers and sisters!” He roared, his hoarse voice carrying over the moaning wind. “I do not know about you, but I have had enough! I tire of wondering whether I shall be the next to die in his tent. Thrydda has led us on a fool’s errand, and he would lead us until we were all buried beneath the snowdrifts!” The new chieftain pointed an accusatory finger at the young seer as he spoke, who remained silent and impassive. “Don’t believe me?” Ubbr continued, great clouds of vapor accompanying his shouted words. “Then listen to the other seers! Hear what they told me just now, as the day broke!” He stepped back, and several shivering seers stepped forward. Their eyes leapt frantically from one person to another, and a sort of manic fear seemed to emanate from them. One of the older members of the group was jostled forward, and he uneasily acted as the voice for the group, his teeth chittering as he did so.

 

“W-we have been g-g-gifted with dreams again – yet they are n-not dreams, but n-nightmares! Our Gods speak again, and they beg us to return home! We do not know that which we march towards, they say. We do not know that which we might disturb!” The old seer flinched visibly as he recalled what he had heard, but he managed to falteringly continue. “Long ago, when our ancestors first found the valley which we called home, there had been One among t-the Gods’ sacred order who had possessed g-great and terrible power. His was the dominion of f-frost and ice, sleet and snow. He r-ruled over these lands, and took from the o-other Gods that which was their rightful due! H-how can the Gods of warfare be appeased, when n-none will fight in the winter months? How are the Spirits of violence satisfied, when n-nearly all that dies is claimed by icy sleep? Who would worship the G-Goddesses of the harvest, when the snow strangles all that grows?” The seer shook his head vigorously. “No, it could not do. And thus our Gods turned on him. They imprisoned him with m-mighty chains, and sealed him from the outside world with the mountains t-that we, in our immeasurable folly, just crossed! They fear that he is beginning to stir once more – and we CANNOT go to him!” At this, the seer bowed his head tremulously and said no more, though now it seemed as if the shaking stemmed not just from his lack of body heat, but from abject fear.

 

Throughout this, Thrydda had not spoken – yet one eyebrow had raised quizzically as the elder seer finished his tirade. “So you mean to say that we should turn back, after all we have been through? After how far we’ve come?” The thin man looked out at the crowd, who had now turned their gaze towards him. “And at the behest of the Gods, no less? The very same ones that damned us? Have you already forgotten how we pleaded with them? How we begged them for even the slightest mercy – many of us with our dying breaths – and were instead scorned? And only now do they call us back, afraid that we might have a chance at actually surviving to exact our revenge! Tell me – what has this Imprisoned One done to us that our own Gods have not?” Thrydda paused, offering the crowd a few moments to answer him. Murmurs rippled through the tribe, yet none offered a rebuttal; and the faces of the seers who had come forward were twisted with shock and revulsion. “I have had dreams too. Dreams of a safe home. Dreams of a God that cares for us. Dreams of vengeance against those who have wronged us! Come with me; finish this journey, and we shall be more powerful than we ever were.”

 

And thus the Winglescynn were split. Some decided to rally behind Ubbr and his seers to attempt the journey home. Others decided to push onward, with Thrydda at their head. With wordless animosity the two factions went their own ways – one group heading back from whence they came, the other striking deeper into the white beyond.

 

Actions:

 

((Actions shall be detailed in the upcoming post))

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~ The Last Rest ~

 

Some time after the separation of the Winglescynn, when the wan light of the sun gave way to murky twilight, Thrydda’s group finally happened upon something as they crested yet another snow-laden hill. Battered by the cold, and running low on food, many had found themselves on the brink of exhaustion when they finally saw it. Before them lay what must once have been a sizable lake, now completely solid. Its translucent cobalt surface was unerringly smooth; so much so that several of the Winglesc wondered aloud how not even the tiniest ripple had graced the water before it had frozen. Far beneath the surface, an ambient light seemed to glow; a soft blue that seeped from below, though many assumed this was their own imagination. In the middle of the ice-lake stood a small island, which was taken up entirely by a brilliant tree. From that distance, none could tell what it was made of, except that it certainly was not mere wood. Its trunk was an onyx black, though its boughs glittered and twinkled in a hundred-thousand places, reflecting the dying light like a priceless diamond. At the foot of the tree something stood, though none could make out quite what it was either. Of the remaining Winglesc, only Thrydda and a few of his brave companions decided to travel across the ice and to the island – the others waited on the outskirts of the lake, stayed by either their awe or exhaustion.

 

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As Thrydda and his small band made their way across the lake, the cold seemed to intensify even further. It bore down upon them like a heavy weight, throbbing like an angry bruise and numbing their minds. Their lips cracked and their fingers ached, yet they pressed on – for they knew that each step brought them closer to the source of this brumal force. One of Thrydda’s companions glanced down, and nearly slipped as he shouted in surprise. The others looked to see what had shocked him so, shuffling across the unyielding ice to cluster about him.

 

There were things down there, frozen beneath the surface of the lake, locked within the ice that encased them. Some of these were beasts, their mouths agape and limbs splayed in a macabre stillness that perfectly captured their last moments. Others were people. When Thrydda looked to his own feet, his eyes locked with the dead stare of Ubbr, who seemed frozen mere inches beneath his boots. His arms were held tight against his chest, in what seemed to have been a last ditch effort at keeping warm. His eyes were sunken and lifeless, and his swarthy nose had turned a brownish-black. Thrydda found himself mesmerized by his former chieftain’s gristly visage, as well as by the questions such a sight brought. How was this possible? The young seer’s mind raced, but his thoughts were interrupted by a sudden revelation; with each passing moment, he found it harder to tear his gaze away from Ubbr’s listless stare. It took a tremendous amount of effort, but with a pained wince Thrydda was able to break free of his bewitchment and continue towards the lake’s center. One or two of the others were not so lucky, and as Thrydda looked back he saw their legs begin to buckle – even as they finally succumbed to the consuming cold, and collapsed into their last rest, they were unable to look away from the faces beneath them.

 

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They were close, now – Thrydda was a mere dozen paces from the foot of the strange tree, which itself appeared to be made of glistening verglas. Swirling tendrils of vapor hung still in the frigid air, and wrapped themselves about the great tree’s trunk, but as the small group drew closer the screen of mist parted soundlessly to reveal the end of their journey. Before them stood a tall and slender throne, crafted from snow and surmounted by glinting jewels of ice, the roots of the verglas tree wrapped intricately around its legs. The throne was bound by mighty chains, unearthly in nature; they hummed with a latent power, and twisted about as if they had a life of their own, struggling to restrain the throne’s occupant.

 

To look upon the One who sat there was a trial within itself; after only a few moments, all but Thrydda were forced to turn away, the moisture in their eyes freezing and the air in their lungs chilling. Yet the young seer refused to avert his gaze, determined to share words with the One who had brought him all this way. He was garbed in the trappings of an ancient king, and upon his head sat a crown of icicles. In appearance, he was most similar to a sharply frostbitten corpse; his hands were black with clotted blood, and his lips had curled back to reveal white teeth protruding from autolyzed gums. His nose was missing, as if it had fallen off, and his eyeless sockets gazed sightlessly from his sunken face.

 

Spoiler

((Going to post my own personal art here once I’m finished, for now this is just a placeholder))

 

When he spoke, his mouth did not form the words; in fact, throughout the whole ordeal his entire body remained motionless. Yet it was clear to everyone that the words spoken belonged to him. His voice whistled about them, echoing across the landscape; it was the crack and groan of the ice beneath them, the whisper of the chill-wind that surrounded them, and the soft thud of falling snow. What was said, none but Thrydda knew – yet after the voice faded the young seer knelt low to the ground, bowing in deference to the chained God before them, and relayed his words to the others. Those who had journeyed to his place had proven their determination – they were worthy to become his servants. If they wished, they could pledge their service to him – and in return, they would be gifted with life in these harsh lands.

 

The message was quickly relayed to the rest of the tribe. As one, the surviving Winglesc made their way to the foot of the God’s throne – not a one among them would refuse the gift offered to them, though one or two more were entranced by the bodies beneath the lake and left to perish. Taking the lead of Thrydda, who had not moved from where he still knelt, the survivors of the Winglescynn offered their devotion to their new God. As they did so, they were bathed in a deluge of frost – yet the chill no longer pained them. They felt their skin toughening against the cold, turning a pale and strained off-white as it did so, and their hair bleached to a silvery-white. The words of their Frozen God echoed about them as he revealed the secrets of winter. They were shown the wildberries and rodents that thrived unseen beneath blankets of snow, told how the packs of larger beasts hid themselves with pelts of ivory, and shown how the ice could preserve food-stores almost indefinitely. They were taught how to use the landscape to their advantage – how to cover their tracks, how an avalanche could be used to drive herds of prey into an ambush, and so much more. When the Winglescynn rose again, they were changed. They were now the children of the Last Rest.

 

 

 

Actions:

  • The Winglescynn have been formed. A race of humans altered to withstand extreme cold, the Winglesc currently number 150 members, roughly 50 of whom are combat-trained. 
  • The Last Rest has awoken, and an unnatural winter has begun to fall upon the lands around him ((his territory, as shall be shown on the updated map)). Other Gods and nations near this occurrence may sense such a change; either through the rumors spread among the various tribes or by a strangely cool breeze carried upon the wind...
  • The Winglescynn have begun to build settlements within the harsh confines of their God’s lands. They have also been granted knowledge on how to survive in such grueling conditions, which they have put to use hunting and gathering.

 

Edited by SteelMarshall
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