Legends of Divinity IC
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| Author | Topic: Legends of Divinity IC |
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Lifecrafter
Member # 6700
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written Monday, April 16 2007 19:54
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Many priests of various services have specualted over the years that if any of the gods were to take physical form and walk anonymously among men, they would not be able to recognize each other. This is far from the truth. As designated by the writings of many prophets, as well as revelation given by many of the deities over the eons, every god has a symbol, sign, or condition that is assigned to him at the beginning of his reign. Though the reasons and mechanics of this assignment are unknown, its usefulness is immediately recognized: every god immediately has an avatar through which he may prophesy, and every god has a calling symbol by which his works can be recognized. A god cannot be detached from his symbol, and it will supernaturally follow him wherever he physically manifests himself. - Taken from the judge's execution report of The Trial of George Quinn as compiled by Fracas Tolwit, Chief Executor of Harath. Mr. Quinn had claimed that he had become unwittingly caught in a clash between two unaware deities, including Harath himself. He was swiftly executed for Heresy. -------------------- Noric and Sveltas remained in their respective standing and sitting positions, frozen, staring slack-jawed and confused at the newcomer who had materialized at the end of the table and promptly advertised himself as... something... something other than a minstrel. Noric was the first to speak. "Who...?" He stopped himself short for a moment, then began anew. "Who are you?" "And who the hell do you think we are, that we'd need your help?" Sveltas impudently added. -------------------- -Lenar Labs What's Your Destiny? Ushmushmeifa: Lenar's power is almighty and ineffable. All hail lord Noric, god of... well, something important, I'm sure. Posts: 735 | Registered: Monday, January 16 2006 08:00 |
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Guardian
Member # 2080
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written Tuesday, April 17 2007 08:07
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"Well, that's really simple," James replied, "I am James the... er, I'm James. I do, um, stuff. And as in stuff, I mean occasionally pick a random group of people to hang out with and assist them. That's my hobby. And to answer why you need me... If you are what I think you might be, than you don't. If you aren't, then you do. It's that simple. Ultimately, either way, I'm still useful to you. I'm going to level with you. The real issue here is in what way you will be useful to me. So now the question I must ask is 'Why do you want to know about the deities?'" -------------------- "I don't understand a word you just said. Try speaking American. It's the only language I understand." Posts: 1918 | Registered: Sunday, October 13 2002 07:00 |
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Agent
Member # 5814
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written Tuesday, April 17 2007 14:14
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Cassius was looking out over the city from atop a high hill. Lights sparkled below him, and zealotous militias roamed the dark streets with torches in hand. They were like insects, crawling around on the earth, desperately searching for a pitiful meal. Cassius glanced away. He suspected someone was watching him. And indeed, nearby, a frail-looking and snivveling creature had emerged out of the night and was staring warily at him. It was Kuroshin, a stooge of Mervingorix's. He approached cautiously, and without ceremony or greeting began to speak. "A message from my lord. He invites you to attend a summit of the nearby clans, wherein you will be allowed to testify publically as to your actions before a council, which will then decide whether you merit death or simply ostracization. My lord considers this gesture most generous, but orders me to warn you that your survival depends directly upon your attendance." Cassius was intrigued. Surely Mervingorix would be curious as to Cassuis' percieved disloyalty, but surely again he would not be this interested? Something of interest to Mervingorix could be of interest to himself, Cassius reasoned,and anyway confronting Mervingorix again might be the best way to persuade him not to bother Cassius. "The place?" Cassius growled. Kuroshin glanced around fearfully. "The north end. By the meeting of the river Sonne and the city. Underground, in the sewers." And without waiting for a response, Kuroshin disappeared into the night. He hadn't mentioned what time it would be; but then, Cassius and Mervingorix both knew what time; it was always the same time with vampires. -------------------- quote: Posts: 1115 | Registered: Sunday, May 15 2005 07:00 |
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Infiltrator
Member # 4248
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written Wednesday, April 18 2007 04:47
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This is letter is roughly five, six years old, and written on fine, gold-framed parchment. It was unfortunately lost in mail before it reached its intended receiver. ”Dear Shamel, I have concluded my research of diminishing religions as you requested. I don’t know whether my work has much relevance to the current events, but some of my results hint there might be some. As you know, there have been multiple gods of war, knowledge, suffering and what-not. What you likely don’t know, and what I find quite surprising, is the fact that there has been only one god of death to date. Thone, Tuoni, the Gatekeeper, or whatever you prefer to call him, has served this position as long as there have been gods. Now, you might ask how this relates to my research. Well, my studies show that during the last 75 years worshipping of Thone has turned from a global custom to almost non-existent. He has never been a very popular god, but it is still a mystery why this sudden change happened. I interviewed few of his priests, both former and current, about this occurrence and they told me that they simply don’t feel the presence of their deity anymore. I believe this is strong evidence that Thone is leaving, or has already left, the pantheon. At first, I thought this was nothing. Then I went to temple of Burrard to compare some statistics, when one certain thing caught my attention: during those same 75 years there has been a major increase in the number of new deities. In addition, as I got closer to modern day, the newer gods clearly showed tendency to be more malevolent than the older ones. This might be just a random fluctuation in the statistics, but I’m glad if it helps you in your work. Waiting for our next meeting, Pius” --- I could have as well been totally different; a great sage, revealing the secrets of the dead to mortals in exchange of their life force. The brave would have risked their lives and souls while seeking to learn from me. Thousands of worshippers would have revered me and prayed me to remember their loved ones when they part from this world. But I’m not that kind of a man. Or I could have become a great warrior, slaying those who displease me, and eating their souls to sustain myself. I would have destroyed whole cities in my wrath, revelling in chaos, and my worshippers would have flooded the altars with blood of the innocents. Who cares, just more wood to the fire! But I’m not that kind of a man either… yet. Instead, I chose to be a cleaner. Yes, that’s it. Humans and other gods make a mess, and I clean it up. When they die, I will erase their works from the face of this world. In the end, when the stars die and void swallows this world, I will be the only one to remember their deeds… and then I die, too. Marras scratched his head as he pondered about these things. It had been much easier to choose a profession when he had been a mortal. His father, grandfather and his grandfather’s father, had all been fishermen, so it was just natural that he became one, too. But he wasn’t a mortal anymore, and that was causing him the biggest headache ever. Pushing annoying philosophical ponderings away from his troubled mind, Marras again concentrated on the good city of Kirkwood. He had questioned several farmers that he had stumbled upon on his way (they had been very annoyed to be awakened in the middle of the night), but no-one had known anything about a guardian god of any kind. Sure, they had had lots of stuff to tell about the various gods of farming and fertility, but that information did little good for Marras. Still, he was somehow sure he headed to the right direction… Suddenly, a burst of energy swept over Marras, causing his body jump on its feet faster than he had imagined was possible. His consciousness caught up a little later, realizing that the energy was huge amount of life force radiating from somewhere inside the city. Just what the hell is that? he wondered, although the answer was quite clear. He had only felt a force as great before when he had spoken to Tuoni. Although a part of Marras (and a big part, for that matter) wanted to just run and catch up with the alien god, his more rational side realized he wasn’t ready yet. I have to make preparations, he thought, although he had no idea what sort of preparations he would need to do. Once inside the town, he would need to collect souls much faster to keep his wits about, but there was no feasible way to do that alone. I need companions, he concluded, when a plan started forming in his (proverbial) brain… -------------------- I have nothing more to do in this world, so I can go & pester the inhabitants of the next one with a pure concscience. Posts: 617 | Registered: Tuesday, April 13 2004 07:00 |
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Guardian
Member # 5360
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written Wednesday, April 18 2007 13:35
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Seoth, God of Balance (In the philosophical sense, not the literal) Deceit, Storms, and Undeath, thought of his existence, as a mortal and then a god. The previous chapter had been spent as a manipulator, heartless but not cruel. He slowly seized power and influence until the day he had. . . But he would not dwell on that. His mortal life was unimportant and painful now. As a god, he was secretive and deceptive. He had slain two gods to gain his current role, one of evil and one of so-called "neutrality". Each was the slayer of two gods in their turn. Only three knew of his existence, and none were mortal. His worshipers served him unwittingly, though relentlessly effective nonetheless. There were no records left for others to discover him, though some had begun to wonder why there was no God of Storms or Undeath. It was that way with the gods who had filled this role before him. An endless chain of them, allying with light or dark, good or evil, as they saw it. Meaningless, in the end. They were forgotten now. As were all, eventually. He advanced slowly through the busy night, not bothering to hide himself. Any mortals who passed him saw nothing, heard nothing, smelled nothing. Any who would touch him simply slid away of their own accord. He passed through a fruit cart, leaving no traces. The skulled visage of his current guise would have smiled, had it been capable. He approached the town hall of Nerototh, some human capital of an insignificant mage-nation. Still, they had enough wealth in magic to attract one of his best, Kraol, and were good enough to capture her. Ah, well. She would come away better for it, with more respect for the mages she so feared. He usually let those inept enough to get themselves caught endure their punishment, but he had taking a liking to Kraol. He might bless her, given time. He stealthily stalked through the empty corridors, leaving the guards he met alone. Kraol wouldn't get a free ride from her unknown god. When he got to her cell, it's door shattered, spraying the area with stinging metal fragments, making his goal scream in fear and surprise. He hastily altered his guise, assuming the stereotypical vision of a thief: dark clothes, large daggers, slim and graceful. Kraol anxiously slipped her head outside the cell. He threw a sword, mildly enchanted to make it's wielder more skillful, at her feet, along with several perfectly normal throwing daggers. It would be enough. She was skilled. He pointed silently down the corridor, where she could plainly hear the guards coming. She didn't stop to wonder, merely snatched up the sword and daggers and ran. Pragmatic. Good. He easily assumed his preferred guise, that of a stained-black skeleton in a pure white cloak and hood, with it;s bones wreathed in lightning. He mentally sighed, slipping into the shadows to his next chore in the unending line of thankless duties he had as a god. Ah, well. He chosen it that way, long ago. It was worth it. Wasn't it? [ Wednesday, April 18, 2007 17:39: Message edited by: Spokesmage of the Dead ] -------------------- May the fires of Undeath burn in your soul, and consume it. Posts: 1636 | Registered: Wednesday, January 5 2005 08:00 |
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Infiltrator
Member # 7298
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written Wednesday, April 18 2007 16:05
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Long ago when gods were new to this world demons roamed Kalandha in a bloody war the Gods defeated the demons forcing them out of this realm and too a dark one. The king of the demons Geltor promised to return for vengeance. -exerts from the History of the Gods ---------------------------------------------------- Geltor since his banishment has seethed in fury and has grown in power. He and his brood have been planning and plotting their escape from their dark realm. It was all for naught until they used their limited influence on the realm of man on a group of dark mages. They tricked the dark mages into making a portal to the demon world. Soon they would have they have their freedom and their vengeance. Elder dark mage "How long till the portal is ready for the final incantation?" apprentice "We ready at your pleasure." Elder dark mage "very well then lets begin soon the demons will be free and they can fulfill and we will be granted our power" Surrounding a large metal portal on top of the Mt.Keldor, the dark mages were arranged in a circle started their final incantation. They chanted for hours till finally a blinding flash comes from the portal knocking every one down. When the light fades down the portal was complete. Geltor "The gate is complete charge through my demon hoard". Him and an army of demons surge through the portal when they come to the other side they find all the dark mages lying on the ground except the elder. Elder “King Geltor we have fulfilled out part of the bargain now grant us our power". Geltor “I’m no longer king of the demons I am the God of Demons". Geltor then lifts the elder offs his feet and devours him. Only one to survive was a dark mage apprentice named Drigy. He runs off to warn the mages of Nerototh and anyone else on his way of the demon god and his army. [ Wednesday, April 18, 2007 17:43: Message edited by: Lord Safey ] -------------------- A rock has weight whether you admit it or not Posts: 479 | Registered: Wednesday, July 12 2006 07:00 |
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Shock Trooper
Member # 3377
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written Thursday, April 19 2007 05:03
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Spinning, spinning, catching the sunlight and throwing it into her eyes. The coin dropped into her bowl, rolled, lay still. "He's hungry," Lauraziel announced, and giggled. "He wants to eat." Her blue eye caught the glitter of sun on shiny coin, the flap of a butterfly's wing, the bright bouncing colour of a child's ball. Her gold eye stared through walls and people, out of the city to the other she could see. But he was as the flicker of a silver fish in a deep still pool, and she lost sight of him as quickly as she lost the memory of his presence. Lauraziel stood, bowl and stick disappearing into the rags she wore, and ambled down the street, petting the horse and offering hay to the dog. [ Thursday, April 19, 2007 05:04: Message edited by: premonition ] Posts: 356 | Registered: Saturday, August 23 2003 07:00 |
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Lifecrafter
Member # 6700
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written Thursday, April 19 2007 10:01
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I am speechless. - Drez IV, deposed king of Erria, before his execution twenty-eight years ago. -------------------- "We're, um... well, uh-" Noric began. "Researchers," Sveltas supplied. "And prophets of the great god Noric," Noric added. "I'm Sveltas," Sveltas began, bowing humbly in his seat, "humble entrepreneur and high priest of Noric, and this here is, well, actually he himself is-" "Hedges," Noric cut Sveltas off. He leaned in to shake James's hand. "Stephen Hedges. Ranger. And, I'm somehow the mouthpiece of Noric. The reason why we're interested in the deities is because Noric himself is relatively new, and he has been unable to research the Pantheon himself. So we're doing it, while he's off doing... godly things." Noric suddenly found himself relaxed. It had been years since he had done a con, let alone caused himself to go undercover. It was coming back more easily than he expected; although, he guessed, that could have been because he wasn't really doing more than stretching the truth. Sveltas, on the other hand, had taken Noric's cue and instead of defending his god, was now trying to pick apart James's mini-logue. "Okay, okay... you think we're someone... and you think that by helping us out, you can get some sort of major benefit... like a business deal..." He paused. "So, what you're proposing is, you work with us to help out Noric-" "Serve Noric," Noric corrected. "-and Noric does something for you?" -------------------- -Lenar Labs What's Your Destiny? Ushmushmeifa: Lenar's power is almighty and ineffable. All hail lord Noric, god of... well, something important, I'm sure. Posts: 735 | Registered: Monday, January 16 2006 08:00 |
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Guardian
Member # 2080
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written Thursday, April 19 2007 15:35
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"Something like that," James responded, "to put it simply. I'm stuck here. Can't get home. Don't ask why, because I don't know. So I either need to get out of this place or set up shop. Either way, it means I have to deal with the deities... Speaking of which, Noric, you really shouldn't lie to me. I know you're a god, but your not the only one in this room, now are you" -------------------- "I don't understand a word you just said. Try speaking American. It's the only language I understand." Posts: 1918 | Registered: Sunday, October 13 2002 07:00 |
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Guardian
Member # 5360
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written Thursday, April 19 2007 15:36
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Seoth watched James silently. He was one of the few who knew of him, and they were more or less equal in terms of power. While James had, for a god, less offensive power than usual, his followers were the most numerous in the world. Seoth, while his followers were unwittingly so, had tremendous power on his own. James had done favors for Seoth in the past, and Seoth had done favors for him. As for Noric, well, he was insignificant, at least at the moment. Seoth needed a favor. He had sensed Sliroth awakening: as God of Balance, he could roughly sense the major happenings in the pantheon. James couldn't. The balance of good and evil was being disturbed. Evil was gaining too much power, though the deprivation of their undead was delaying them somewhat. Seoth had seen to that. James, as God of Love, would most likely side with Light, though an evil god of love wasn't unprecedented, like a neutral God of Undeath was. It would mean that the balance was almost beyond repair. Only the slaying of a major deity could reduce the danger level to almost salvageable, if that were the case. Sliroth, too, knew of Seoth, though their dealings had all been hostile. Sliroth's power was greater than Seoth's, though as God of Deceit, he made up for it in cunning. His awakening would make preserving the balance far more difficult. Seoth needed James to divert Sliroth. Tell him that Seoth was dead, imprisoned, exiled, anything to buy Seoth some time. Sliroth was an elder god; he knew the traces of Seoth's work when he saw them. Seoth could easily evade any of the currently living gods, but doing so would almost eliminate his activity. His current guise was that of an ogre, large and brutal. Seoth rather enjoyed the irony that such a huge and clumsy beast could easily evade any living being. It would be his undoing. He walked forward steadily, trying to figure out how best to tell James. He grew absorbed in his thoughts. Suddenly, sharp fangs bit into his shoulder. He bellowed, exuding lightning and gale-force winds from himself. The surrounding room and most of the building were blasted into the air, scorched and burning, with the exception of the vampire, Noric, his servant, who he had apparently been in front of, and James. The vampire? It had turned to mist and disappeared before Seoth could kill it. Wait. . . Vampire??? Seoth gazed in horror at his shoulder, at the gaping wound that could only be caused by the most powerful of vampires, and one with access to considerable weapons and magic. Mervingorix. Seoth swayed on his feet, his guise wavering, faltering. He collapsed, weakening, his flesh melting and molding into it's preferred form. James, caught by surprise by the lightning and wind, had tripped. Noric had been thrown backwards, though not violently. His follower had been thrown with him, and had sustained little more than mild injuries. Seoth lost consciousness. His last thought was The Vampires own me. [ Thursday, April 19, 2007 16:10: Message edited by: Spokesmage of the Dead ] -------------------- May the fires of Undeath burn in your soul, and consume it. Posts: 1636 | Registered: Wednesday, January 5 2005 08:00 |
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Guardian
Member # 2080
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written Thursday, April 19 2007 15:38
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I'm now officially confused by why this posted like that... come to think of it, it's probly cause the quote button is right next to the edit one... oh well... [ Friday, April 20, 2007 02:56: Message edited by: LF ] -------------------- "I don't understand a word you just said. Try speaking American. It's the only language I understand." Posts: 1918 | Registered: Sunday, October 13 2002 07:00 |
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Councilor
Member # 6600
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written Thursday, April 19 2007 17:09
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Fourty followed the woman through the sewers. As the sewers got smaller and smaller, Fourty realized they were approaching the edge of the city. Finally, the woman climbed up a ladder into an empty warehouse. Well, almost empty. There was a man standing in the warehouse, his face entirely concealed by a hood. The woman clearly wasn't expected this, and stepped back with a gasp. "Relax. I'm the owner of this warehouse. I've known about the secret tunnel through the city walls for years. I don't care who you are. In fact, I'm rather hoping you are one of the Forsaken." The woman laughed nervously. "Why?" "I have a message I need you to deliver to your leaders." "No. That was what got Fenny killed. I--we--want no part in your rebellion. I won't come through here again. Bye." The woman ducked through the secret door. The man sighed. Fourty debated whether to follow the woman or stay. He hesitated a moment too long and the decision was taken from him. "Hello? Is... is someone there?" The man looked around nervously. "No," Fourty whispered, "You're imagining things." "Oh, good. I..." The man whirled around. "Harath?" "No. You must be a priest, correct?" "Yes, High Priest Vizoth. Who are you?" "Fourty." "Forty what?" "No, no. My name. Fourty. With a U. You don't spell the number with a U. Unless you belong to the Ubumal tribe on Mubulu Island, I suppose. They even have a patron goddess--U'uluua--for that letter." The man blanched. "I've dedicated my life to studying history and geography and I've never heard of such a place. You must have knowledge beyond... by justice! You can't be Mayor Fourty!" "I'm impressed. Your religion has held a grudge against me for 350 years?" "Why are you back? Are you some sort of ghost?" "A demigod. And I need information." "About what?" "Where Harath has gone. What is currently happening in this city. Who the Forsaken are. Why you still remember me after 350 years." "Follow me back to my place. I have an extensive library. It is at your disposal." --- Yay! Dikiyoba doesn't get beaten by sticks after all! Posts: 4346 | Registered: Friday, December 23 2005 08:00 |
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Shaper
Member # 7472
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written Thursday, April 19 2007 19:03
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EDIT: Never Mind [ Saturday, April 21, 2007 20:25: Message edited by: Nioca ] -------------------- I tried to think of something witty to put here. Needless to say, I failed. Posts: 2686 | Registered: Friday, September 8 2006 07:00 |
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Agent
Member # 5814
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written Thursday, April 19 2007 19:18
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Cassius stalked through the sewers, moonlight filtering in from above occasionally. The sewers were, he noticed, suprisingly well-maintained and sanitary. But the surface was ruled by obsessive fanatics, they probably would have taken personal insult to know that just yards under their beds, little bugs were crawling and feasting and criminals of all kinds could be stashing God knew what underneath them. Cassius hadn't seen a sign of a vampire yet, but he was confident they were nearby. He could feel them. He walked a bit faster. He turned a sharp corner, saw a heavy door, and headed for it without hesitation. He strode into a dark chamber, used probably for some containment purpose once, but now drained and filled with creatures black-cloaked and white-eyed. The turnout was nowhere near what Kuroshin had promised. Nor was there, at a stone table facing him, the traditional council of Elders which presided over most meetings. There was Daunnaya, another henchman of Mervingorix's. And to his left and right, more of his men. They stared at Cassius knowingly and smirked to each other. "Where is the council?" Daunnaya laughed coldly. "Here. And the accused, the traitor, is now here as well." "Save it. What of your master then? Will he face me himself?" Again Daunnaya laughed. "No. He has important business to conduct, dear Cassius, and you are far from important." Cassius's temper was rising and almost ready to express itself very strongly. "So what am I here for? What is the point in this waste of time?" For the third time, Daunnaya laughed. Cassius resolved to make sure he ripped out her throat before she could do it again. Then Daunnaya spoke. "Little Cassius, you always were an arrogant brute. This isn't about you; it is about things far more complicated and deep than you could even understand. However, you are like a rabid dog; you continue to pester and stir up trouble among us. You do not know friend from foe, and you have been sentenced to death." With that, she stood up. As one, the others rose as well and approached Cassius, thirsty looks on their faces. The full moon was out, and they intended to satisfy themselves on one of their own. Cassius believed only at most a few understood his true, godly nature. Certainly the vampire clans did not yet; such information would have drawn far more attention than he wanted to see in a lifetime. But the alternative was constant skirmishes and attempts at assassinations. As he stepped forward, Cassius pondered the costs and the benefits. In the centuries before his ascension, Cassius had learned a thing or two, and created a thing or two of his own. One such thing was Molon Labe, the Defiance spell. The area he was in was a prime location for its use. Cassius threw his arms out and then snapped his hands together, with a curse to strengthen it. From his hands emerged a snaky, glittering rope, which flew to Daunnaya and attached itself to her, causing her skin to boil. She screamed and slashed at it, but it only reformed a moment later. The beetles grew larger, and some changed targets to get better choices of dining. More and more filled the room, being born from the rapidly dissolving skeletons and moving to others. The room had only a few openings, and Cassius kept the beetles away from those. Some vampires were trying to survive with blasts of fire, but they did little unless the vampire set his own limbs aflame. Soon they were all dead. Molon Labe could and indeed was meant to take on a very small army. And now, the smaller beetles were attacking the large, sluggish ones. A perfect circle. But soon they too would decay into dust and the chain would break. Cassius walked out of the chamber, closing the door behind him. The trip had not been a complete waste; Mervingorix was up to something, at the very least. He also had wanted Cassius's help, but since Cassius had refused Mervingorix wanted him out of the way. Cassius pondered his next move. -------------------- quote: Posts: 1115 | Registered: Sunday, May 15 2005 07:00 |
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Guardian
Member # 2080
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written Friday, April 20 2007 03:26
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With some effort, James regained his composer and surveyed his surroundings. "Now, this makes this more interesting," James commented out loud, "No good will come from this turn of..." Before he could finish his sentence was overwhelmed by strange new visions filling his head, though for only a brief moment. "Well, I stand corrected," James stated, "We're all in some serious trouble here. More so than I ever would have expected. Oh well, I guess it just comes with the territory..." Without a word after the monologue, James laid his hands upon the wounded, trying to heal them to extend his most powerful healing magics would allow. -------------------- "I don't understand a word you just said. Try speaking American. It's the only language I understand." Posts: 1918 | Registered: Sunday, October 13 2002 07:00 |
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Infiltrator
Member # 4248
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written Friday, April 20 2007 04:35
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The sun was shining it's first, red beams on the cold ground. The night had been much colder than usual; thin frost covered the vast Plains of Array and the merciless northern wind chilled Mark to the bone . "Look, the lazybones finally got up!!" his friends bellowed from the top of the wall as he was climbing up a ladder to reach them. "Aw, shaddup", Mark muttered and sneezed. During his twelve years as a city guard, he had never been late from a shift before, so it was understandable that his fellows would mock him about it. It still made him annoyed, though. "So, did anything intresting happen during the night?" he asked when he finally got to the upper end of the ladder. "Well, dere's been dis one little thing" one of the older guards, John, answered and handed a telescope to Mark. "You see dat?" John asked, "Dat huge flock of birds? They've been circling that hill for hours. I'd like to see what's so damn intresting up there, but we can't see anything through them." "Uh, what birds are they?" Mark questioned as he peered trough the glass to get a better view. And indeed, behind the slums that encircled the city of Kirkwood a massive whirwind of birds was surrounding around a rock called the "Troll's tooth". "Ravens, crows, the sort. Scavengers and bringers of bad luck" muttered Luke, one of Mark's younger colleagues. Mark didn't respect him all that much. That boy's too pessimistic, I say, he wondered as something weird caught his attention. "I don't know about bad luck, but what're those thing they're carrying?" he asked. "What things? Let me see" John wondered as Mark handed the telescope back to him. "I don't know about you, but to me it seems they're carrying strands of white cloth in their beaks" he answered. Just then, one of the birds detached from the rest of the group and began flying straight towards the befuddled guards. They mutely watched as a huge, ancient crow flew over them; it was indeed carrying a piece of pure white silk. Just then, Luke turned back to look at the hill. "Look, they're leaving!", he shouted. The other guards turned to look and watched silently as the huge cloud of avians dissipated. "I wonder what was that about", Mark muttered. "Hey, is someone standing up there?" Luke wondered and reached dangerously far over the edge of the wall to see better. "Yeah, dere is someone", John replied, still staring through the telescope. "Looks a bit tattered, though. Wonder how he managed to attract all those birds?" Each of the guards took one last look trough the scope to watch the weird traveller, before finally returning to their mundane tasks of patrolling the walltop and shouting to low-lives who were trying to sneak to the city trough cracks and secret passages. It took them a long time to realize what they had actually seen that day. Mark, for example, experienced another 12 years as a guard before having to meet a crow with a silk strand again... --- Back on Troll's Tooth, Marras watched the birds to fly away from him. Consider that a fair repay, he thought as the last ones disappeared behind the horizon. He had always felt bad for stealing the meals of various wildlife to sustain himself. Now he had finally made up for it: bodies for them, souls for him, food for both. Marras felt a little woozy as he again began stumbling towards the city. He had never detached so many parts from himself before, and although he was sure he still had scratched only the surface of his new powers, it hadn't been an easy effort. I need food, and soon he pondered as he finally made it to the slums. Somewhere there, there was sure to be someone dying; Marras only had to find him (or her). But before that, it would be a constant struggle for him to contain himself. All the people around him, both young and old, beautiful and ugly, rich and poor (well, the poor anyway), felt only like potential appetizers. It didn't matter that they had memories, or feelings, or families; heck, even fish had them. And Marras had tried them, oh yes he had. Makes you think a bit differently about your past life he pondered grimly as he finally picked up a diminishing life sign from a shadowy back alley... -------------------- I have nothing more to do in this world, so I can go & pester the inhabitants of the next one with a pure concscience. Posts: 617 | Registered: Tuesday, April 13 2004 07:00 |
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Law Bringer
Member # 4153
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written Friday, April 20 2007 07:28
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The revelers froze. Some were still pouring drinks into overflowing glasses, for their attention was focused on the sky. For lack of a better description, it had disappeared, replaced with an inky black void. The only light left in the villa came from the roaring fire, which now no longer roared. A new figure stood in front of the fire. Despite being silhouetted by the flames, the denizens of Joth could clearly see every detail of it. Clad in a strange armor (it looked like it was made of giant lizard scales), the figure carried a staff with a scythe-like blade at each end. It wore steel boots and gauntlets, and from the way one gauntlet hung it seemed as if the figure was missing a finger. A gleaming steel helmet obscured the figure's face, and yet it seemed to amplify its voice. "I am Sliros, God of the Forsaken!" the god boomed. He seemed to be content without adding anything else. The onlooking crowd said nothing for a while. Then, Zeth took a tentative step towards the deity. He still looked a bit confused. "No. We don't need a god right now," he said to the warrior, before turning to the crowd. "You hear me? We don't need a god! Nothing good ever comes of it!" The crowd continued to say nothing. They were getting rather good at it. Somebody dropped a clay jug, shattering it and spilling a bit of wine. "I'm telling you," Zeth continued, "first it's a bunch of promises about salvation, and before you know it, half of us are dead in a holy war! We can't let—" "Silence, mortal." Sliros said, cutting him off. The god started to look around the villa, and he nodded. "This will do for a citadel. And as for you..." he trailed off. The crowd stared at the imposing figure with something between awe and terror. "You have been cast aside by all. By your families, your countrymen. Some of you by your gods," Sliros said, looking directly at Zeth. "And that has brought you to me. In this, you will not be forgotten. You will be redeemed in deed, renewed in body, and replenished in spirit. You will have new lives." A few heads perked up upon hearing all of this, and most of the crowd had finally picked up its collective jaw. "But you must be prepared to fight. There are some who would cast away the world itself if it did not act according to their desires, and it is these who have wronged you. They have wronged the citizens, city, and even the land beneath it," the god spoke, stabbing the tiled courtyard of the villa with his staff. With a loud crackle, the tiles were split apart, revealing a lush carpet of grass. A few moths descended upon the ground. One particularly drunk reveler called out (somewhat sarcastically), "What do you wish us to do, almighty one?" Sliros laughed, a sound which made most people's vertebrae sting. "I wish you to know that you are no longer lost souls in this life. You have not been abandoned. As for the rest... prepare yourselves." The same drunk man called back, "For what?" The god paused, and the silence threatened to drown the crowd. "I... I do not know. I awoke for a reason, but I do not know it yet. All I know is that the other ancients walk the earth again, and that could mean the end of an age." And with that, Sliros disappeared. No puff of smoke, no flash of light. Just a single black moth, left fluttering above the fresh grass. -------------------- Gamble with Gaea, and she eats your dice. I hate undead. I really, really, really, really hate undead. With a passion. Posts: 4130 | Registered: Friday, March 26 2004 08:00 |
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Lifecrafter
Member # 6700
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written Friday, April 20 2007 09:02
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It is wondered if the gods sleep, if they become latent and then reincarnate themselves among men, or if they simply fade away and are replaced... -From The Theological Musings of Eduard Prins -------------------- The damage to the library, for all of the collapsed shelving and ruined walls, was deemed to be easily reparable by a local construction team. The books themselves appeared to be mostly undamaged. It would just be a matter of cleaning up the mess that the freak storm incident had caused. Local healers had pronounced that the library staff was mostly suffering from shock and would soon recover. A priest of Yeahyup had attended the scene and declared that the guardian deity was clearly upset by something that had occured inside the library, and had allowed this storm to occur in order to interrupt it. Suffice to say, it was an incident that would be remembered for a very long time. The two strangers, who identified themselves as Stephen and Sveltas, had immediately responded to the shock by leaping to attention and pulling out concealed weapons. The town guard did not take kindly to this; however, the two avoided arrest after a brief interchange involving Sveltas ranting about "smelling vampires, and in the middle of the afternoon, no less", and Stephen finally agreeing to simply put the weapons away. The third stranger, whom Stephen had identified as a wandering seeker of fortune named James, had gone into a brief monologue, suffered a series of odd convulsions, and then silently began to perform healing rites on the library staff. Even through a series of direct questioning, the guards only recieved a series of grunts as answers. -------------------- James had not spoken a word since he had had what Noric assumed to be a vision. Noric had, after all, recieved visions from Kyros in the past, and understood that sometimes such enlightenment could be quite disturbing. Noric had tried to rouse James from his contemplative silence with several lead-ins such as, "The only thing that I said that wasn't true was that I was only Noric's mouthpiece," as well as asking if the pantheon had finally sent someone to meet him, as well as asking for an explaination about the presence of other deities. Unfortunately, he had yet to get a response. James was clearly more than he appeared to be, visions, ramblings, and teleportation aside. Sveltas had vanished shortly after the guard began to question James. He left with only a slight nod to Noric, who had been busy helping right the shelves at the time. It had gotten dark since. Noric stopped his work helping the librarians clean for a moment, to look at the cloudless sky through the hole in the wall where the lighting had struck. James had said that they were all in serious trouble. More than even he could imagine. A miraculous storm strike on a library. A telepoting man who constantly rambled about everything and nothing... until now. Vampires appearing in mist form inside the library after the storm struck. Sveltas, out doing something for the good of mankind, and himself first, of course, knowing him. Noric returned to shelving books. It would be a long night, and there was much to consider. -------------------- -Lenar Labs What's Your Destiny? Ushmushmeifa: Lenar's power is almighty and ineffable. All hail lord Noric, god of... well, something important, I'm sure. Posts: 735 | Registered: Monday, January 16 2006 08:00 |
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Guardian
Member # 5360
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written Saturday, April 21 2007 04:13
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Seoth awoke with a start. He looked around, at the repairs on the library already beginning to take place, and the level of flooding. It had been days, at least. He realized that he had lost control of his powers during his sleep. Storms must be raging all over Kalandha. He took another hour or so quelling them. He realized that he had slept feverishly. He would have been talking. Ah, well, they would never make sense out of anything he had said, at least not the important parts. With a start, he remembered the vampire. He hastily felt his teeth. The incisors were huge and sharp. He very nearly pricked himself. He felt Mervingorix in the back of his head, compelling him. Kill Cassius. Kill Cassius. Cassius? who was Cassius? A follower of mine, he had the audacity to betray me. Kill him. A mental picture of Cassius entered his mind. He mentally choked. A god! And the God of Suffering, at that! What? My former minion a god? This. . . No, do not kill him. PROTECT ME!!! PROTECT ME!!! Seoth clutched his head in agony. Then, slowly, against his will, he rose up. Fighting Mervingorix with every ounce of his godly mentality, he made a portal. He started to step into the portal. In a last effort at freedom, he managed to shout to James. "Mervingorix owns me!" Then he stepped through the portal. Mervingorix waited. And now, he had a god on his side. [ Saturday, April 21, 2007 12:02: Message edited by: Spokesmage of the Dead ] -------------------- May the fires of Undeath burn in your soul, and consume it. Posts: 1636 | Registered: Wednesday, January 5 2005 08:00 |
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Guardian
Member # 2080
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written Saturday, April 21 2007 05:22
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"Well, if this isn't the most pathetic situation I've had to deal with in a few weeks," James mused to himself, this time actually not saying it aloud, "It's not like this is the first major disaster I've had to carry people through, even if it was a different plane of existence and a different pantheon, half of which hated me... Perhaps this group isn't as stupid as the last one I dealt with. Anyway. If I play my cards right, maybe I won't have to stack the deck. First, I need to round up potential assets and establish a power-base, which apparently has been done. Then I've got to set up my enemy to ally ratio. Now, that guy who blow up the library could've been an ally, but under the control of a vampire lord, he's effectively an enemy til the vampire lord's dealt with. His nemesis should be helpful in that if I can track him down and get him to assist me, shouldn't be too hard. The demon army is clearly a major threat, but not an immediate one since they're not here. And I'm not even going to go into that other thing... Anyway, Noric and his buddy are about all I've got to work with so far. Although, she's here, and apparently has been quite busy setting me up as a god here, and all on her own, too. Pretty unusual for someone who had turned her back on me. I'll have to track her down and ask her why sometime, but I have more pressing issues to deal with right now. Being able to control a god and being nearby makes him a serious threat, so I'd better move against the vampire quickly..." Without a word, James approached Noric. "Hey, Stephen," James whispered to Noric, "I need to discuss something with you. As you may be aware, these are very dangerous times, or regular for y'all, I'm not sure since I'm not very familiar with the pantheon. I mean, seriously, when a god gets attacked in broad-freakin-daylight, in front of two other gods, by a vampire of all things, something is wrong. Where I'm from, that type of arrogance and show of power is always met with swift and deadly retribution. After all, the vampire's target could have easily been you or me instead. So, in about an I'm going to go destroy me a vampire or 50 and you have that long to decide whether or not you're going to help me." -------------------- "I don't understand a word you just said. Try speaking American. It's the only language I understand." Posts: 1918 | Registered: Sunday, October 13 2002 07:00 |
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Councilor
Member # 6600
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written Saturday, April 21 2007 06:35
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Fourty followed High Priest Vizoth back to his small home located near the religious complex. Vizoth stepped inside and pulled off his hood. He was an old man, in his fifties, with thinning white hair. "Will we be disturbed?" Fourty whispered. "No. I live alone. My wife died many years ago and I haven't spoken to my son ever since he joined the holy army last year." Vizoth entered the library. There were a few stray scrolls and books here and there, but it was mostly organized. "Then I hope this will be easier for both of us." Fourty made himself visible as a hooded and robed figure and sat down in the chair. Being invisible was quite tiring given Fourty's long history of remaining corporeal in Burrad's employment. "Yes." Vizoth pulled The History of Justice off the shelf and sat down across from Fourty. "This is the official history of Harath and his followers. The following section is how we remember you." He opened the book and began to read. "And so the followers of Harath followed the river Sonne downstream until they came to the village of Mannik. It was the perfect place to settle, for the river ran clean, the soil was fertile and there were forests and a quarry nearby. "However, the villagers were suffering, for bandits lived in the woods and raided the village. The villagers prayed and offered sacrifices to the false god Digirid, but nothing came of it. "The followers of Harath were strong and true and just. They destroyed the altar to Digirid and replaced it with one to Harath. They organized the villagers, patrolled the village and surrounding farms tirelessly, and, when the time was right, tracked the bandits back to their lair and slew them all. "Now that Mannik was safe, the followers of Harath declared their intention to settle in it. The villagers were overjoyed to hear this news, but the false priestess of Digirid and the mayor of the village were opposed. "Then Harath spoke through Chief Priest Hamfass and revealed that the priestess and mayor had been taking the villagers' sacrifices for their own. The priestess and mayor denied it, but Hamfass broke into their houses and revealed the stolen sacrifices. "The villagers were furious. They were being raided and killed while the priestess and mayor hoarded petty treasures. The followers of Harath arrested them, explained to the villagers that peace and fairness would come through order and justice, and promised them that Harath would always protect the good and pure from the wicked and deceiving. Every last villager converted that day. "The next day, Drissa and Fourty, the false priestess and unworthy mayor, were scheduled to be executed, as Harath demanded. Drissa was executed as planned, still clinging to her belief in Digirid. But Fourty was mysteriously missing. Chief Priest Hamfass was furious, until Harath spoke to him. "'This is a great setback, but do not despair. Redouble your efforts, bring justice to those who deserve it, and soon there will be no escape for the guilty.' Hamfass heard Harath's words and obeyed." Vizoth shut the book and brought out parchment, quill, and ink. "If... if I may ask... how much of that is true?" Fourty stared levelly at Vizoth. "All of it. It's shamelessly biased towards Harath, of course, but the basic facts are there." "And how... how did you escape? Were you immortal even then?" "No. I was terrified of death. I spent the whole night praying for someone to save me, praying to every god and goddess I knew, praying to any deity who would listen. It was Burrard who provided the loophole. I would work for him for 100 years. After 100 years, we would decide what would be my fate then. So Burrard took me to his offices." "And then?" Vizoth copied down Fourty's answer to the word. "100 years passed. Burrard never came to talk to me. I should have known to get our agreement in a contract, but I didn't. So I worked for him for another 250 years. Then I came here." "I... I see." Fourty leaned towards Vizoth. "You are taking this very well. Here I am, a complete stranger, overthrowing everything you must have believed in Harath..." "I have had no faith in Harath for years. I believe he exists, but I no longer believe his ways are, well, just. His presence used to terrify me. Now his absence terrifies me. And whoever or whatever else has moved in terrifies me as well. Things have grown so unstable over the past several months that I fear for this city and everyone in it. But you... for some reason, you give me hope," Vizoth said. Fourty leaned back in the chair, completely stunned. He's crazy, Fourty thought, He's got more faith in me than I do. --- Dikiyoba. Posts: 4346 | Registered: Friday, December 23 2005 08:00 |
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Infiltrator
Member # 4248
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written Saturday, April 21 2007 07:21
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The sight was far less grim than Marras had expected, but puzzling nonetheless. There was a man, dressed in expensive-looking, purple silk clothes, lying on the ground with a huge gaping wound on his chest. What the hell is he doing here? Marras wondered, when two other details caught his attention. First one was a red dagger painted to a wall behind the victim. Marras had no idea what it was supposed to mean. The other was much more familiar to him: someone had placed a white rose with a red ribbon tied around its stalk next to the body. He carefully picked up. Well, Tuoni still has at least one follower he thought as the flower disintegrated in his hands. He then kneeled beside the body and prepared to absorb it, when an angry croak stopped him. Oh, you got here too, he thought as he stared at a huge, old crow. The strand of white silk was lying on its feet. Without waiting, Marras rose up and stepped aside from the body. Might as well see if this really works he pondered as the crow picked up the silk strand and flew on the body's chest. It gently touched the man's lips with the strand, dropped it to the ground beside the body, and then happily proceeded in to pecking the man's splitted heart out. Marras, in turn, picked up the strand and let it search its place in his body. The usual ensued. The man's name was Augustus. He had been a remarkably successful merchant, shipping valuable goods (some not entirely legal) up and down the river Eos, gaining incredible wealth in the process. He had lived a happy life, untill engaging in a large-scale smuggling operation. That operation didn't go very well, and as a result, Augustus had gained the wrath of the Thieves' Guild on his heels. That ultimately resulted in his assasination in this distant corner of Kirkwood, far from his bodyguards and friends. Marras was filled with terror of unusual intensity as images of Augustus' murderer flashed in his mind. "Please, avenge me!" the soul whispered before vanishing into Marras' body. And just why should I do that? Marras wondered and sighed. It was not his job to go around dealing divine justice; there surely was another god for that task, and Marras would gladly let him take care of it in the future also. However, he would seek the assasin out for his own reasons. If nothing else, he deserves to know my predecessor's gone he thought, as he noticed that the air around him had changed. Somewhere in the city, someone was looking for him. Marras did not understand how he could know; maybe it was just natural evolution of his powers? What he did know was that he desperately wanted that person to find him. "I am here" he whispered, although he knew no-one could hear it. But maybe the seeker didn't need to hear him? I can only wait. -------------------- I have nothing more to do in this world, so I can go & pester the inhabitants of the next one with a pure concscience. Posts: 617 | Registered: Tuesday, April 13 2004 07:00 |
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Agent
Member # 5814
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written Saturday, April 21 2007 08:57
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Cassius focused. Long ago, he and Mervingorix had shared a bond, a mental connection. The link had weakened, but now that he was once again listening to it he could feel Mervingorix thinking. He was worried. Cassius focused even more. Mervingorix was hiding in an old temple, not far, but deep in a mountain range. Cassius at once began moving. When he arrived at the temple, it was dusk. Pretty birds were twittering and the trees were rustling. The temple, though, smelled of rot. Cassius entered through the front doors and saw the source. The temple's old inhabitants had been killed, dragged to the center, and drained dry. Mervingorix came out of a set of ornate doors across from him. "I was wondering when you'd come for me." He sounded almost resigned, hopeless. "Yes, I've decided to kill you. Now let's not waste any time; as I remember, you have many important things to do." Cassius bared his teeth. "Just tell me one thing before I die, though; how did you do it? Few have ever forced their own release from servitude, and those that did needed their master present in some form." Cassius laughed. "Are you stalling for time, or actually curious? Well, I'll humor you. But first, let me point out that hundreds and hundreds of vampires have escaped servitude... through death. That is where my story begins. When I found myself in service to you, I decided to end my own life. I threw myself into a pool of molten lava. Oh, it was pain beyond imagination. But I did not die. Or rather, I did, but I remained. The fire shaped and molded me; it awakened something inside me. It kept me here, saved me in a sense. And at that point, I became a god." Mervingorix looked stunned, and swayed. He almost hit the doors behind him, but saved himself just in time. "You? A god! Well, I suppose I'm not suprised. Kill me now." He opened his arms wide and bared his neck invitingly. Cassius moved forward. He conjured a whip in his hand, the ultimate symbol of punishment and oppression. Just as he was about to strike, Mervingorix shouted, "Now!" and a huge man wrapped completely in shining mail jumped out from behind the doors and tackled Cassius. Cassius tried to whip the man, but it did nothing. He tried to bite him, but his teeth could not work through the armor. The man, meanwhile, was casting some sort of spell. The world swirled around the two of them, and suddenly Cassius found himself back in Mannik, with Mervingorix's laughter echoing in his ears. The man was panting. He muttered, "Had to. Forced. Don't come back." And without another word of explanation, he disappeared. The people still on the streets were looking quite curious, and doubtless the town militia was on its way. Cassius quickly moved off and found himself a place to rest and plan. -------------------- quote: Posts: 1115 | Registered: Sunday, May 15 2005 07:00 |
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Guardian
Member # 5360
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written Saturday, April 21 2007 13:06
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Since the fight with Cassius, Seoth had retreated. Mervingorix's hold upon him was absolute and unbreakable. Oh, he strained and resisted and fought at every point, and his godly mind was not even beginning to tire. But there was no escape. He couldn't even control his own guise. Meanwhile, he had retreated inside his own mind, leaving only enough mind-power left to control speech functions. Mervingorix had long ceased talking to him directly. Now, he only used his body as a puppet. Whatever control spell he had used, he had not cast it himself. He had help from at least two other god-powers. That is, a god that is either Master of two domains in the pantheon, such as Weather and Death, or two gods, each the Master of one domain. A voice interrupted his thoughts. Yes! You are more powerful than I had anticipated! You were even able to deter Cassius. Tell me the lengths of your power. Seoth refused, pushing out at Mervingorix mentally. But a shield of orange and teal sprang up between their minds. It wrapped around Mervingorix, shielding him from any retaliation. Still haven't cooled down, eh? Very well. I shall force them from you. A burning spear of pain shot through Seoth's mind, peircing his thoughts and diving down to retrieve his knowledge of himself. Storms. . . Undeath, Deceit, and. . . Balance? Ha! There is no balance here, god. But your power is far greater than I had anticipated. You will make a most suitable bodyguard. Seoth mentally choked. He, a god, with his high ideals of Balance, reduced to a mere bodyguard! Demeaning, isn't it? You have Sliros to thank for that. Sliros? Not surprising. But Mervingorix may well be lying. He couldn't be trusted. But a conflict with Sliros was inevitable, eventually. Seoth could go to Marras, or possibly Geltor, for help relieving his vampirism. But that would mean revealing himself to yet more immortals. No, he would go to James for help, or puzzle it out himself. But that would take time, and that was one thing that Seoth could not afford. He needed to act quickly if he was to restore balance. Still thinking? You've fed, now. Seoth dimly recalled killing and feeding off of some townswoman. Now, your next task, god, is to. . . Seoth paid Mervingorix no heed. His body would take care of itself. Meanwhile, he devoted his mind to finding out how to break free. Seoth had the patience of an immortal. He could wait. [ Saturday, April 21, 2007 13:08: Message edited by: Spokesmage of the Dead ] -------------------- May the fires of Undeath burn in your soul, and consume it. Posts: 1636 | Registered: Wednesday, January 5 2005 08:00 |
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Councilor
Member # 6600
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written Saturday, April 21 2007 20:17
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Once the awkward moment had passed, High Priest Vizoth flipped to a page near the end of the book. "Sixteen years ago, there was a rebellion in the city. It lasted for almost a full year before it was finally put down. At the time, the general consensus of priests and priestess was that it due only to a few years of poor crops and high taxes. But looking back on it now, I wonder if Harath was beginning to fade, or lose interest, or go mad, or whatever happened to him, even back then. Anyway..." Vizoth began to read. "After the rebellion was finally put down, the remaining dissidents (read: the family and friends of and anyone who unwittingly helped the rebels) were rounded up and brought to the temples for judgment. "Harath spoke through Chief Priest Hamfass the Fifth. 'I have heard your cries of mercy and have decided to grant it, though you do not deserve it. But from now until the time you have atoned, you will be the Forsaken, and you will be marked so that all recognize you.' And then an F became visible on the forearms of the guilty. 'You will neither enter the city nor flee the country. You will not own gold or other valuables and you will not bear arms. You will no longer have my blessings, and I will no longer hear your prayers.'" "Harath doesn't seem like the sort to grant mercy (if that can be considered mercy). Why did he do it?" Fourty asked. "Not even the edict of Harath could convince the general public to kill several hundred almost-innocent people, including many children. It angered many of the harshest priests and soldiers, though." "Several hundred people, including children? You people are sick and twisted! Why would you even think of worshipping such a deity?" "Because his ways work! We've only had two rebellions in 350 years. And the god Saluc, who devastated Kalandha five years ago? Mannik was untouched." "Yes, but look at the cost! Harath keeps order by killing anyone who sets the dinner table wrong!" "Don't be absurd! And besides, you're one to talk--you were willing to rob sacrifices while your village was under constant attack." "So? At least any decision I would make about whether to kill several hundred of my own loyal followers isn't based on public opinion! That's just unacceptable!" Fourty suddenly realized that he and Vizoth were both standing just inches from each other and yelling at the top of their lungs. Vizoth held up his hands, stepped back, and tried to speak calmly. "I'm already convinced that Harath's methods are morally wrong. You just need to convince me that you have a better system." Fourty sat down, took a deep breath, and said. "Of course. I will think about it. But first, how many people know Harath is gone?" Vizoth grimaced. "Only a few priests and priestesses sensed his disappearance. It was very sudden. One day, everything was normal. That night, I and probably the others as well, woke up with the feeling that something wasn't right. In the morning, we got together and realized that Harath was gone. The religious leaders all know, and several high-ranking political leaders know as well. As far as I know, no one else does." "So no one else would recognize me? Or the other presence around here?" "Maybe someone, but it would be extremely rare. I'm the most sensitive person I know regarding the divine." "Good. What have people decided to do about Harath's disappearance?" Fourty asked. "Some people believe that Harath is gone forever and that we should change to reflect that. Others believe that Harath is merely away to test our faith and we should continue doing things as we have been (or believe that the current situation is the most beneficial to them). Finally, the rest think that Harath left because we've been too lax and that we need to be even harsher." "Which group is winning?" "At the moment, the second one, but the third one is slowing gaining momentum." "That's not good." "No." Vizoth sighed. "I tried to get a message through to the Forsaken, warning them about the recent events in town, but they want nothing to do with me or anyone else inside the city. But one of them was arrested for being too close to the city a few days ago, and he confessed to being part of a plot to overthrow the current government." "Under torture?" "Yes, unfortunately, but there won't be any consideration of that as rumors spread. Rationality has gone out the window these past few months." "So it's probable that soldiers will be sent to hunt down the Forsaken soon?" "Yes. That's why I wanted to warn them. But I can't now. I don't know where their camp is." "Could they stay hidden from the soldiers in their camp?" Fourty asked. Vizoth shook his head. "The only reason I can't find them is because they move so frequently. The soldiers would have the numbers to track them down." "It looks like it's up to me, then. I'll warn the Forsaken--hopefully without revealing my identity--and see what to do from there." Fourty closed his eyes and reached his mind out. It soon made contact with the woman he had followed earlier. Even a brief touch was enough to tell him that her name was Meeka, that she was in the Forsaken camp, and where it was. Fourty made himself invisible again and prepared to transport himself, muttering all the while. "Isn't there supposed to be an actual god of the forsaken out there? Where is he? This seems like it's right up his alley. I mean, they're even called the Forsaken, for crying out loud. I suppose I'll have to fill in while he's not around. Come to think of it, I'm not entirely sure it was a god. It might have been a goddess. Heck, the patron deity of the forsaken could even be a hydra, for all I know..." --- Dikiyoba apologizes for the amount of exposition Dikiyoba posted today. Posts: 4346 | Registered: Friday, December 23 2005 08:00 |