Gods of Farhiem [IC] [Gods] [Open]

[Jorliefstreiken]

OOC: viewtopic.php?f=31&t=379677&hilit=91562

Marus, God of Chaos and Fear, The Archives

Marus had just finished reading the newest scroll to come to his small study within the archives. Located underneath the Mana Spring hat lead to Dere, Marus had chosen this place due to the fact that from it he could moniter the Titans, a favorite race of his. They had never shunned him as the Humans and the Elves did openly, and some even embraced him as an ancestor of their tribe. Marus pushed up off the floor and walked forward, enetering the Mortal realm. He was now in the Fel Lands, near a large cave with massive piles of bones laying in front of it. Some of them appeared humanoid, relics of a race long lost to time, others more bestial. In particular was the skull of a Highborn that covered the entrance way, threatening all who enetered. Marus strolled forward on all four legs, deciding that his hostess might prefer him in dragon form.

As he entered the cave, a small Draconian ran up to him. He was actually quite large for his kind, about 8 feet tall, but in this form, marus dwarfed him, being about 200 feet tall at the shoulder. He bent his head down to the Draconians level. The Draconian yelled to him, but his voice was so soft due to the size difference that it was barely a normal voice for Marus. The Draconian yelled "Shes been asking for you, oh great one! pleading for you. She says she wants a new brood to mother, that the last one has left her and even attacked her" Marus growled and trodded farther into the cave. When he reached the end of it, he found another large dragon laying on the floor, only they had no front arms, only a pari of wings that they knelt on like legs. The dragons hide was purple, though streams of black could be found in it. On her back their were glowing red viens, which matched the crimson of her eyes. Marus spoke in Draconic "Wyvern, sweet heart, what troubles you so? Do you nee-" Wyvern snapped back "I don't need anything!"

Wyvern spoke to him in common now "There is no need for that disgusting tongue your children invented, Marus. I can speak the language of mortals." Marus snapped back at her "May I remind you that they are your brood as well, and just because one brood went wrong doesn't mean the other is bad. If you dislike the newer one, go and rest with the silvers, they are plenty nicer" Wyvern growled "I can't remember, you cursed me to this cave until the Fel worked itself out of my system" Marus tried to comfort her, "Well, the purple in your hide is retuning" Wyvern looked back at him," I suppose, but to fly free again..." Marus told her "Soon my sweet, all will be right" Wyvern looked back at him, twitched for a moment and then asked "And then we can destroy the world?" Marus licked her face"Oh Definitely." Marus the exited the cave and took mortal form. He then teleported himself to Thulefall, and walked into the nearest establishment, "The Fallen Goddess". Wyverns likeness rested on a sign over the door. Marus walked inside and sat down, waiting for a barmaid to bring him his usual drink. He had business to attend to.

[New Roman Empire]

Clique

Clique had been watching over his chosen people and he hadn't been in the mortal plane for several months. He grew tired of the boringness of being a god. He grew tired of it at times, he preferred a mortal life. To him their lives seemed full of mystery they were not set by anything besides death and life. The fact that he had powers didn't make him feel all that great, but then again he was used to the feeling. So Clique opened a portal to the mortal realm and took on his mortal form. the only people in the whole Empire that knew of Clique's mortal form was the royal family. A family he had put in power at the dawn of the Empire. Elves long lives tended to make a monarchy more successful as you never had a new king every decade or shorter than that.

Once he had arrived on the mortal plane, he looked around. It was hard to believe in such little time that his people had established and Empire and then these cities. It always amazed him at how the city always looked and it was bursting with life. He walked down the street and smelled the fresh bread that was being made in the bakeries along the street nearby. He stopped on a bridge spanning a river, the river was the cities life source in the area. It was also the fastest way of traveling to the coast and sending supplies up river.

[Cresadine]

Vannyne had chosen to enter a resplendent and ancient oak on the edge of the hidden homes of the Vani. Vannyne could see trough the eyes of the tree, for the Vani carved faces into the guardian oaks ringing their lands, one in each direction. They carved these faces so that Vannyne could always watch over them, so that she always had eyes. The mute organic monolith's magnificent branches spread high up into the air, straining to touch the sun and to receive the rains. Its leaves, like a thousand tiny eyes, saw not in pictures, but sensed the movements of the air, the rise and fall of the temperature and the position of the sun, so she not only saw through its eyes but felt what it felt.

She silently watched her people from the oak. They were her only people, besides a few woodsman - but she didn't like them. The woodsman harm the forests, while the Vani guard them. They were playing music, sweet, sweet music. It came so fluid and naturally to them. Their songs were, beautiful, energetic, mystical and ancient - no other people could play music like them. It was like the singing of wind in the grasses, like the tweet and call of ten thousand songbirds in perfect harmony. It was the sound of nature and it was haunting. The tune finished. The Vani dispersed.

She watched as five foragers left the secluded tree-city. It was not unusual, the Vani silently patrolled all the woods unseen. But the tree wordlessly whispered to her, "follow. O' silent goddess of forest and river."

Man thought the Vani to be mythical - that was stupid, the Vani were just good at hiding. Vannyne was better than the Vani at dancing unseen through the wood though, and she followed quietly behind. Vannyne followed them, constantly watching. The foragers trod upon their secret paths without a sound but eventually made their way to one of the paths of men - this was unusual. From behind a quaking aspen the Vani watched a pair of human hunters making their way through these woods.

The foragers followed the hunters for hours until they made camp. As the two men slept the Vani crept mischievously into his tent. From the folds of his woven grass skirt one of them took out a bag of dust, which he blew into each man's face. As they slept deep in dreams of plenty the foragers used their magic to bring them back to their hidden city...

A week later there was much talk in the nearby town. Two nonplussed hunters returning telling tales of wonder. Tales of cities in the trees, of trees with eyes that constantly watch, of hauntingly beautiful music. The told of bonfires at which not a single log was burnt - most paradoxically. But most scandalously they told of the Vani - most dismissed this as the raving of madmen. But Vannyne listens from a far and she hears talk of sightings of little men in the forests. In hushes tones many men say, quite ominously, "the Vani have returned."

[Woodstovia]

Aerion

The Fallen Goddess, Thulefall

Aerion sat in The Fallen Goddess nodding in quiet agreement with one of his followers. The Fallen Goddess had long been a hideout for Aerion's followers the man was explaining. Since many despised him cults had formed in all the major cities in Farhiem that worshipped him in secret. The Fallen Goddess posed as a tavern but the basements below served as a meeting place. Who would check the basement of some tavern for the followers of a specific god?

Aerion of course knew all this and was offended that this idiot thought otherwise. How would he of all beings be unaware of what his followers were doing? But he stopped the man when his target entered the tavern. Aerion had become fascinated with the god Marus recently and his experimentation with dragons. When he had heard the god was frequenting Thulefall he instructed his followers to raise the sign of a wyvern outside the tavern. Perhaps the god of luck had decided to act in Aerion's favour but ever since then Marus had become an almost regular visitor.

Aerion slid himself onto a chair opposite Marus and grinned happily, a devilish fire beaming in his eyes.

"Brother you really ought to pick a less suspicious form." he laughed. "How are you ever supposed to live among the mortals if you look like some big fiery goat?" The two gods looked like the exact opposites of each other. Marus being a big flaming goat wearing armour and brandishing a staff while Aerion wore the luxurious clothings of a spoilt prince.

"I have a proposition for you though." Aerion started, indicating to a barmaid who brought them two cups of wine although Aerion was sure the fiery goat god would probably demand ale or something. "How about you speed up your little experiments, we could gather up all the dragons on this rock and begin producing more and more of your... What are they called? Draconids?" Aerion recognised all of the men in the tavern as his followers so he spoke openly. Another barmaid had put up a closed sign so they wouldn't be disturbed. "And send them into battle. The humans won't be able to stand against an army of dragons." Aerion said sipping his wine as he imagined all the cruelty which would blossom from the draconid's wars. "And think of all the chaos and fear which will be sewn into the world." Aerion's face suddenly twisted into a scowl "Issumatar's followers killed another of my champions recently. Dragged him from his horse and overwhelmed him. He slew 12 of them but was stabbed through the heart." Aerion shook his head "And now my lance has been returned to me. I could give one of your dragons the lance though I'm not sure how they'd use it. I liked that one, I think his name was Oliver. He sacked a city once because he broke a fingernail fighting against a man who flew their banner. I want nothing more than to see Issumatar's stupid little confederation or whatever it's called scrubbed off the map."

[The Orzone]

Wroth-Mar
God of Conquest and Domination and God of the Kingdom of Hargun

Another battle took place for the city in his realm. He sat upon his Skull Throne, hearing the battle cries of the different the kingdoms that inhabited Ragehoth. The walls crashed outside, the fighting in the streets and on the walls, the skirmishes that happened outside of the wall. These were the actions that Wroth-Mar himself loved and enjoyed, but he also valued peace as long as total domination was in place. As he was thinking to himself about whether or not he should join the fighting outside of his hall, the door in the hall itself was broken down and soon a wild band of warriors came crashing down, tearing and slicing and beating each other to death while his own guards joined in the fray.

He stood up from his throne and unsheathed his Mace of Domination, the top being beautiful and shining while the body and handle were crude and ugly to look at. With one shout he pushed the warriors back outside of his hall, looking stern and angry as he descended, step by step down his throne. He saw the warriors getting back up and, instead of fighting, they stood their ground and readied themselves for Wroth-Mar. He made his way outside of the door of the Hall and took a swing against the shield wall they formed. It broke instantly as soon as his Mace hit the first shield it touched, the men were sent flying across the streets as Wroth-Mar swung and bashed his way to the street itself, where urban fighting was taking place among the different warriors of their respective kingdoms.

The warriors stopped fighting amongst themselves and opted instead to charge at Wroth-Mar in the middle of the street, fighting against the warriors while standing above most of them. As soon as he saw they were coming, he smashed his Mace down on the ground and the ground shook as a sinkhole emerged and swallowed the warriors down to its earth. After eating the warriors, the ground reformed itself and the streets looked clean again. He returned to his throne as he repaired the damage done to his city with a wave with his hand. He decided to check on his people instead of fighting again, taking the form of a knight of the Kingdom of Hargun to see if his people were fine.

[Cuprum]

''O Fortune, like the moon you are changeable, ever waxing and waning; hateful life first oppresses and then soothes as fancy takes it; poverty and power it melts them like ice. Fate, monstrous and empty, you whirling wheel, you are malevolent, well-being is vain and always fades to nothing, shadowed and veiled you plague me too; now through the game I bring my bare back to your villainy. Fate is against me in health and virtue, driven on and weighted down, always enslaved. So at this hour without delay pluck the vibrating strings; since Fate strikes down the strong man, everyone weep with me.''

The goddess, waking up from a nap, smiled. She believed she had set up the perfect absolute defense. It probably wasn't, but it was more than enough for now. She stood up, her organic flax and cotton dress swirling lightly, the greens and browns seeming to separate from her seat, and walked inside. "How are you all?" she asked quietly. "Luckily for all of you, I'm in a pleasant mood today. I already had my morning tea and my nerves are calm." The dangling woman writhed in her constraints, the veins along her nude body popping out with stress and fear.

[The Grand Republic of Hedgeland]

Shaman
Mysticism and Torment
Polterguai

Darkness. Eerie darkness. Nothing. From nothing, ghosts of the living: speechless, formless souls, trapped. Millions of millions, souls that once inhabited the mortal world, now lost forever in Polterguai, the realm of lost souls, lost, forever.

There is no up or down in Polterguai, the feeble mind cannot tell one axis from another here, just gravity-less floating. Among the endless void and forsaken specters is Shaman, the lord of this realm, in his natural form on his faded throne, rubbing his Soulshriek in a zombie-like trance. The souls held prisoner inside of it started to circle around it, as everything seemed to become clearer.

Marus had just finished reading the newest scroll to come to his small study within the archives. Located underneath the Mana Spring hat lead to Dere, Marus had chosen this place due to the fact that from it he could moniter the Titans, a favorite race of his. They had never shunned him as the Humans and the Elves did openly, and some even embraced him as an ancestor of their tribe. Marus pushed up off the floor and walked forward, enetering the Mortal realm. He was now in the Fel Lands, near a large cave with massive piles of bones laying in front of it. Some of them appeared humanoid, relics of a race long lost to time, others more bestial. In particular was the skull of a Highborn that covered the entrance way, threatening all who enetered. Marus strolled forward on all four legs, deciding that his hostess might prefer him in dragon form.

"Marus, of Chaos and Fear... a formidable opponent."

Vannyne had chosen to enter a resplendent and ancient oak on the edge of the hidden homes of the Vani. Vannyne could see trough the eyes of the tree, for the Vani carved faces into the guardian oaks ringing their lands, one in each direction. They carved these faces so that Vannyne could always watch over them, so that she always had eyes. The mute organic monolith's magnificent branches spread high up into the air, straining to touch the sun and to receive the rains. Its leaves, like a thousand tiny eyes, saw not in pictures, but sensed the movements of the air, the rise and fall of the temperature and the position of the sun, so she not only saw through its eyes but felt what it felt.

"Vannye, of Fresh Water and Forests... sister, both of us born by Earth... ally?..."

Another battle took place for the city in his realm. He sat upon his Skull Throne, hearing the battle cries of the different the kingdoms that inhabited Ragehoth. The walls crashed outside, the fighting in the streets and on the walls, the skirmishes that happened outside of the wall. These were the actions that Wroth-Mar himself loved and enjoyed, but he also valued peace as long as total domination was in place. As he was thinking to himself about whether or not he should join the fighting outside of his hall, the door in the hall itself was broken down and soon a wild band of warriors came crashing down, tearing and slicing and beating each other to death while his own guards joined in the fray.

"Wroth-Mar, of Conquest and Domination... blood may spill, but my spirits are eternal..."

Shaman immediately ejected himself from this heightened state, as a crude feeling of being spotted forced him out of his trance, out of fear of being detected. As his ghostly eyes refocused on to the surrounding void, he found himself in Polterguai again, floating in the middle of nowhere on his faded throne, faded... nothing...

(OOC: Just something short and sweet to get me going.)

[Houyhnhnm Cities]

Taletes was laughing in his throne room , watching by the show of an octopus juggler. The cephalopod was trowing weird hydrodinamic clubs , catching them with dextery for the amusement of his lord. Taletes was always looking for new talents in his court and this octopus was a real marvel, definitely worthy of the place of new court jester. He was just about to officially gave the octopus his new position when suddenly, a dolphin came in his throne room, ramming through the semi- closed door.

"My lord, my lord, forgive me for interrupting your fun but there is an urgent matter that requires your attention." Taletes sighed heavily."Why it is always when ì'm having fun? he tought, resuming a more dignified posture on his throne.
"My lord, we are receving prayers from the Selenius villagers, on Hargun. They are going to be assaulted by pirates soon and they're beging for Your divine protection.

Taletes frowned. The inhabiants of Selenius had always been very respectful of him,, never missing a sacrifice or a prayer, always remebering who gave them the fish they fed upon. On the other hand he did not rember any sacrifice from the pirates in that zones recently... and he always rembered all the sacrifices. So he stood up and said to his court. "i' ll return soon, don't move."

Taletes disappered in bubbles, just to reappear in the waters before the Selenius village. He saw the pirate fleet, ten ships with a black flag. Worthless scum,assassins, raiders, rapers but worst of all, the one thing Taletes could not stand, disrespectful. Their captain had grew bold, thinking his seafaring skill was the only thing to thank for his success. Such hybris had to be punished.

He started by changing the currents, creating an underwater whyrpool of great power. The ships started to deviate from their course, catched by the irresistible power of the vortex. Taletes could see the men of the crew scrambling on the deck, trying to change the course but it was too late. Ten ships collided with each other, in an horrendous cacophony of screams and crashes. many died immedietly, wounded by the destroyed ships or started to drown, incapable of swimming. But many more, the captain among them, started to vigorously swim to reach the coast.

Taletes grinned, almost impressed by their sheer determination. Almost.

With a flick of his hand dozens of sharks started puring ot a rift in the water, assaulting the sailors. Soon the water had become red with blood, as the sharks ripped the men limb from limb. The captain was the last, asthe shark ripped his legs after he saw his entire crew die.

Satisfied with his job Taletes returned to his to his throne room, where he found his court exactly as he left them. They knew better than to take his orders less than literally.
Now, where was i. Oh yes, i was obout to give you a promotion. Congratulations Felix, you are the new court jester. Now, what's next on the schedule? He said, relaxing on his throne chair, not a worry in the world.

[New Roman Empire]

Clique
Royal Palace, Eldarian Empire



Clique had just reached the royal palace, he was let in and taken to the Emperor and Empress. the Emperor at once ordered everyone to leave the room that wasn't of royal blood. Once everyone had left the room, the Emperor and his wife bowed to Clique who in turn nodded to them. "I sense something large is going to happen, I sense a war like no war has ever been seen will be coming. You must look towards your borders, bring the army to alert and prepare for the worst. I would look to the north for allies in the Black Ice Wastes. You might find allies there, and you will need to find allies else where as well. Look to the Kingdom of Hargun, maybe." Informed Clique as he knew that much of this information was very hard to take in. But he was going to visit some of the other gods and he didn't know how long it would take him to set up alliances let along talk to them. He despised seeing his cousins and brothers. But he knew that it had to be done in that in this situation. "Send envoys to the places I have specified, for now I must leave." Informed Clique as he vanished in a cloud of smoke and appeared in Shaman's domain or what was shaman's domain. "Shaman what happened to your throne?" Asked Clique.

[The Grand Republic of Hedgeland]

Clique
Royal Palace, Eldarian Empire

(Image)

Clique had just reached the royal palace, he was let in and taken to the Emperor and Empress. the Emperor at once ordered everyone to leave the room that wasn't of royal blood. Once everyone had left the room, the Emperor and his wife bowed to Clique who in turn nodded to them. "I sense something large is going to happen, I sense a war like no war has ever been seen will be coming. You must look towards your borders, bring the army to alert and prepare for the worst. I would look to the north for allies in the Black Ice Wastes. You might find allies there, and you will need to find allies else where as well. Look to the Kingdom of Hargun, maybe." Informed Clique as he knew that much of this information was very hard to take in. But he was going to visit some of the other gods and he didn't know how long it would take him to set up alliances let along talk to them. He despised seeing his cousins and brothers. But he knew that it had to be done in that in this situation. "Send envoys to the places I have specified, for now I must leave." Informed Clique as he vanished in a cloud of smoke and appeared in Shaman's domain or what was shaman's domain. "Shaman what happened to your throne?" Asked Clique.

Shaman
Mysticism and Torment
Polterguai

"This is my throne." Shaman replied, "It belonged to a long lost tyrant who died many centuries ago, and with his legacy came this throne."

"But a better question. State. Your. Business..."

[New Roman Empire]

Clique

"Well I don't know about you, but I would like to keep Order and Chaos equal. Plus the mater of fact is that I do not trust Marus to play fair and keep the balance." Informed Clique as he looked around at the void of nothing. He could hardly believe how this place looked. "So I was hoping to form an alliance against Marus if he were to try anything." Informed Clique.

[The Grand Republic of Hedgeland]

Clique

"Well I don't know about you, but I would like to keep Order and Chaos equal. Plus the mater of fact is that I do not trust Marus to play fair and keep the balance." Informed Clique as he looked around at the void of nothing. He could hardly believe how this place looked. "So I was hoping to form an alliance against Marus if he were to try anything." Informed Clique.

Shaman
Mysticism and Torment
Polterguai

Due to Shaman's impulsive nature, he assumed that by "keeping Order and Chaos equal" he could send more souls his way.

"Sure... but how do I know I can trust you?"

[New Roman Empire]

Clique

Clique shook his head, "Well for one Law and Order, I am the essence of keeping my promise. Plus put it this way, is Chaos were to reign who do you think would get the most souls? Hmmm you? Me? No, Marus would get the most souls out of anyone. I don't know about you, but I would rather like to avoid that if at all possible." informed Clique as he summoned a chair from his realm to appear.

[Jorliefstreiken]

Aerion

The Fallen Goddess, Thulefall

Aerion sat in The Fallen Goddess nodding in quiet agreement with one of his followers. The Fallen Goddess had long been a hideout for Aerion's followers the man was explaining. Since many despised him cults had formed in all the major cities in Farhiem that worshipped him in secret. The Fallen Goddess posed as a tavern but the basements below served as a meeting place. Who would check the basement of some tavern for the followers of a specific god?

Aerion of course knew all this and was offended that this idiot thought otherwise. How would he of all beings be unaware of what his followers were doing? But he stopped the man when his target entered the tavern. Aerion had become fascinated with the god Marus recently and his experimentation with dragons. When he had heard the god was frequenting Thulefall he instructed his followers to raise the sign of a wyvern outside the tavern. Perhaps the god of luck had decided to act in Aerion's favour but ever since then Marus had become an almost regular visitor.

Aerion slid himself onto a chair opposite Marus and grinned happily, a devilish fire beaming in his eyes.

"Brother you really ought to pick a less suspicious form." he laughed. "How are you ever supposed to live among the mortals if you look like some big fiery goat?" The two gods looked like the exact opposites of each other. Marus being a big flaming goat wearing armour and brandishing a staff while Aerion wore the luxurious clothings of a spoilt prince.

"I have a proposition for you though." Aerion started, indicating to a barmaid who brought them two cups of wine although Aerion was sure the fiery goat god would probably demand ale or something. "How about you speed up your little experiments, we could gather up all the dragons on this rock and begin producing more and more of your... What are they called? Draconids?" Aerion recognised all of the men in the tavern as his followers so he spoke openly. Another barmaid had put up a closed sign so they wouldn't be disturbed. "And send them into battle. The humans won't be able to stand against an army of dragons." Aerion said sipping his wine as he imagined all the cruelty which would blossom from the draconid's wars. "And think of all the chaos and fear which will be sewn into the world." Aerion's face suddenly twisted into a scowl "Issumatar's followers killed another of my champions recently. Dragged him from his horse and overwhelmed him. He slew 12 of them but was stabbed through the heart." Aerion shook his head "And now my lance has been returned to me. I could give one of your dragons the lance though I'm not sure how they'd use it. I liked that one, I think his name was Oliver. He sacked a city once because he broke a fingernail fighting against a man who flew their banner. I want nothing more than to see Issumatar's stupid little confederation or whatever it's called scrubbed off the map."

Marus removed his helmet, revealing a head of longer oily black hair. It fell over his eyes, which remained Crimson colored and still seemed to glow a bit. He drank deep from his wine while listening to Aerion. When Aerion finished Marus placed his cup back on the table "They are called Draconians. And yes, while they can overpower humans, they are not numerous enough for us to raise an army of them. Nor can you breed the. Assuming you can capture the dragons and elves, the spells no longer work. I dried up an entire Mana Spring to make the first clutch and I do not wish to damage the Archives like that again. As for actual Dragons... If you are lucky you may be able to convince a few of the Silvers to follow you. The Blacks however... Not even I can control them. They hate everyone, including their mother. And she can control the minds of most Dragonkins." Marus refilled his cup magically with a golden liquid, with the rough consistency of an extra thin milkshake. "While I'm sure that you could convince a Draconian to wield your lance as well, I doubt he would be able to unite the clans of his brood. Draconians decide their leaders by combat, and their idea of combat does not involve lances. Here is what you must do if you want Draconians to follow you. You must seek out Wyvern in the fel lands, and convince her to spawn a new clutch with you. You may then accelerate the hatching of one of them, and take the newborn with you. Accelerate it's growth and then experiment with it, see if it spawns anything. If you get lucky, and find a strong enough magic source, you may get a Draconian among the broods of abominations." Marus had finished his second drink now. He filled his cup again, swirled the drink around and then looked straight at Aerion "I do have an alternative plan though. Shall we agree to an alliance of sorts? To strengthen both of our power. We both gain access to each other's forces should we need it." Marus licked his lips and stood up "I like your new tavern by the way, it is quite... comfortable. If you do want to pursue the plan of action I suggested, Wyvern can be found within Highskull cave. I would suggest looking the part of a potential mate, else she may ignore you for the rest of time, or try to eat you." Marus suddenly grabbed the Barmaid. As he did, she sprouted dragon like wings and horns, her eyes becoming like emerald searchlights. She put her arms around Marus' shoulders and Marus spoke one last time. "Should you wish to pursue this alliance however, I shall be in my realm. Until the, Aerion" Marus and the former barmaid dissipated in a swirling portal of dragonfire and lightening that appeared on the floor.

[The Grand Republic of Hedgeland]

Clique

Clique shook his head, "Well for one Law and Order, I am the essence of keeping my promise. Plus put it this way, is Chaos were to reign who do you think would get the most souls? Hmmm you? Me? No, Marus would get the most souls out of anyone. I don't know about you, but I would rather like to avoid that if at all possible." informed Clique as he summoned a chair from his realm to appear.

Shaman
Mysticism and Torment
Polterguai

"Grrrr..."

Shaman hated the thought of other deities getting more souls than him. His impulsive nature kicked in again.

"Fine, it's a deal. As long as Marus doesn't get all of the souls."

[Cresadine]

Vannyne can feel it - there was conflict coming. She hears it whispering in the wind as they rustle through the leaves, she feels it in the soil and in the eternally beaming rays of sun. The world feels it, and intuitively she knows it. The leafy goddess strolls through one of her woods, a golden green light streams through the rich canopy casting complex labyrinthine shadows on the ground. She makes her way to a pond, very shallow and filled with many fish and colourful and deadly salamanders. After staring quiet intently at its glassy surface she dunks her face into the pond, so she could communicate with the various villages of Vani throughout the world through the medium of a Sacred Pond.

In the centre of every Vani village there is a Sacred Pond, through which the wisemen may communicate with their Goddess. At the shore of most of these ponds there are weeping willows. These trees have faces carved into them, so Vannyne may watch and talk.

The Vani are a peaceful people, they play music and tend to their wild gardens - they are not for war. Vannyne is their Guardian-Mother and she must get them to protect themselves.

The water of Sacred Ponds across the world begins to ripple - the Goddess wishes to speak. The wisemen, constantly attending to these ponds, discard their grass skirts and cloak-of-leaves and submerge themselves in its cold, black, and87:,?/,254// water. In their ears they hear the whisperings of the goddess - her voice as soft as the song of a bluebird but as commanding and full as a gong.

"It has been a long time since we have came into contact with the outside, long have we dwelled in our old and hidden groves. It seems many of you and your brothers have brought humans to our sacred bonfires and let them hear our holy music, for what reason, I know not - but I hear whispers, man is spooked. This is good, my children, for they now know our reality and they are aghast by our sudden reappearance.

I hate to inform you, my children, but conflict will soon come - and as stewards of the woods we will not involve ourselves. These forests of ours will not burn in wars to come, they will be beacons of our proud people and peace. It is such that I command you to carve faces into trees at the edge of the forests - so we may guard these woods which we have always nurtured and tended too. "

The next morning many woodsmen awoke to begin their daily ventures but stopped themselves. Some of the larger trees had faces carved into them, one looking silently in each direction. The faces displayed many emotions, for anger, to bloodlust, to joy and extreme sadness. They were both beautiful works of art and horrifying signs of the supernatural. The more superstitious would not enter the woods, and fewer did each day, for every new morn there was more faces. In the night some swore they could hear ominous sounding drum beats from the forest and sweet, sweet music.

[The Orzone]

Wroth-Mar
God of Conquest and Domination and God of the Kingdom of Hargun

Instead of taking the appearance of a knight, he would instead take his natural mortal form to talk with Balor, the king of his people. Raising his mace in the air from the Throne upon where he sits, a bright sudden flash is shown, along with the now empty throne.

He is teleported in the throne of King Balor, where he sits along with his family and officials who are eating and talking. As soon as Wroth-Mar arrived, Balor ordered the room to be emptied besides him and the royal family. The king and his family put their fists on their chests as a sign of saluting and respect, while Wroth-Mar also did it. With the courtesy of the way.

Balor asked " Lord and God, what is the matter? Did something happen? Do you bring joyous or ill omens?".
Wroth-Mar nodded and said with a deep voice worthy to be afraid of "Yes, I sense a war is coming. You must expand further from this island and prepare for conflict. I sense it and so do my brethren."
Balor and his family looked shocked at the news, but Balor silently agreed and said "Will you protect us? What must we do after expanding? Please help us if what you say is true Lord and God Wroth-Mar"
Wroth-Mar simply looked at Balor with confusion and said "I say is true, and do what I COMMAND!", with the last word booming through the halls, scaring the Royal family.
Balor immediately said yes and he would do as what he commanded.

Wroth-Mar was grateful and immediately teleported himself to his realm then to the Archives, where he would confront the God of Chaos named Marus, hoping to find some answers and clearance from this feeling.

[New Roman Empire]

Clique

Clique Smiled at Shaman before he disappeared from his realm and reappeared in the archives looking for Worth-Mar. He always hatted going here, but he needed to find Wroth and this seemed like the best place to do so. Not to mention he sensed the god was close. He was going to need to talk to two more gods to solidify the alliance to ensure Marus didn't try anything. After following his senses he found Wroth-Mal. "Wroth! What are you doing here? I assumed you were going to be in your realm watching your many battles. But I do need to talk to you about Marus, I think he may be planning something, I feel the tide of order and Chaos shifting to an uneven level. I already convinced Shaman to stop Marus if he were to try something. Also I had my people send an Envoy to your king to establish an alliance. We both know a war with Marus will be fought on the mortal plane and in our godly plane." Informed Clique as he started to go through some of the scrolls.

[The Orzone]

Clique

Clique Smiled at Shaman before he disappeared from his realm and reappeared in the archives looking for Worth-Mar. He always hatted going here, but he needed to find Wroth and this seemed like the best place to do so. Not to mention he sensed the god was close. He was going to need to talk to two more gods to solidify the alliance to ensure Marus didn't try anything. After following his senses he found Wroth-Mal. "Wroth! What are you doing here? I assumed you were going to be in your realm watching your many battles. But I do need to talk to you about Marus, I think he may be planning something, I feel the tide of order and Chaos shifting to an uneven level. I already convinced Shaman to stop Marus if he were to try something. Also I had my people send an Envoy to your king to establish an alliance. We both know a war with Marus will be fought on the mortal plane and in our godly plane." Informed Clique as he started to go through some of the scrolls.

Wroth-Mar
God of Conquest and Domination and God of the Kingdom of Hargun

Wroth-Mar was on his way to confront Marus when Clique suddenly approached him and told him about Marus, Shaman and a balance he could care less. Wroth-Mar looked at Clique with some interest from the words he said, finding the god's sense of fear somewhat amusing but knew the issue Clique was very much serious.

"I came here to talk to Marus himself, and you are right, I sense the feeling of conflict arising. My blood rages in joy to sense such conflict, conquest and Domination that could happen. Unfortunately, Marus is the God of Chaos, and in Chaos, there is no conquest and domination, only pure fighting. As for your envoy, I will not meddle in that, they are free and strong enough to decide, although prepare for some diplomatic issues. It is surprising to see you friend, but I must talk to Marus, alone if need be, but if you wish, you can come and witness the confrontation

With that, Wroth-Mar was about to walk when he turned and spoke again to Clique, saying

"The Balance, Clique, should and will be preserved, but you must understand that there will be a time where it will be UNbalanced, and when that happens you must accept for a time."

With that, he walked away from Clique, walking towards the lair of Marus

[Icthyia]

The Butcher's Path
South of Firstholm

"No! Please god no, anything but this! Please!"

Zin, disciple of Xitar, slammed the pathetic whelp against the bloody altar where so many had died before. This one, a mage, was in the employ of Firstholm; the regional power, who finally took notice of the Butcher's Horde when cities in the southern fringe had been entirely ransacked. Thousands dead, the King immediately moved the royal army to the southern pass to block access to the North; dooming the southern regions to the Divine Butcher's cruelty.

Nonetheless, the pass proved easily conquered. The men, primarily conscripts, now lay strewn across the field, screaming in pain. The men broke easy, utterly dismayed at the relentless onslaught of berserkers and and absolute lunatics. Stories of what happened to their enemies broke out quickly, legends of those in the south, caused many to flee, and the more deranged of the army to even defect, murdering their brethren for the hope of joining the slaughtering hordes.

And so, now, Zin stood, his titanic arm holding the pleading mage against a crudely crafted altar, dedicated to his patron deity, Xitar, the God of Slaughter. The mage continued his sobbing and pleading, as other warriors began to surround the circle, chanting their demonic prayers.

"Oh, Xitar, Lord of Killing, Despot of the Slaughterhouse, accept this soul as tribute, as a apathetic offering so that we, your children, may be spared, and gift us the power to torture your enemies, to feed you, and to end this nonsensical, impotent planet."

And so, the warriors continued chanting, bellowing their praises for the Dark God into the sky, hoping for his favor so that they could mutate, becoming more powerful, fast, and deranged in the process. The mage, meanwhile, began to notice the headless corpses piled on the other side of the bloody circle from which the altar lay centered.

Closing his eyes and opening his heart to hatred, Zin continued holding the mage's head against the altar, silencing his screaming, and raised his other, wielding a a primitive mace. In one quick stroke, he smashed in the mage's head, bashing his brains all over the altar and adding to the pool of blood that surrounded it. The body first stiffened, then went limp, as the soul was transported to Xitar's domain to eternally serve as his plaything.

This mage, particular powerful though now dead, greatly pleased Xitar. As a reward, he granted Xin with a blessing - his cranium spouted a round growth, filled with drugs and chemicals that would flood through his system and neutralize pain, allowing him to dance among the enemy without fear, decapitating and murdering as he did so.

Zin collapsed from the pain of the growth, but awoke to a similar scene; across the battlefield, survivors were rounded up and sacrificed, while those of no real note were simply put in a wagon, to be flayed later. With the army decimated, Firstholm lay open, a city home to tens of thousands...

[New Roman Empire]

Clique

Clique Smiled at Shaman before he disappeared from his realm and reappeared in the archives looking for Worth-Mar. He always hatted going here, but he needed to find Wroth and this seemed like the best place to do so. Not to mention he sensed the god was close. He was going to need to talk to two more gods to solidify the alliance to ensure Marus didn't try anything. After following his senses he found Wroth-Mal. "Wroth! What are you doing here? I assumed you were going to be in your realm watching your many battles. But I do need to talk to you about Marus, I think he may be planning something, I feel the tide of order and Chaos shifting to an uneven level. I already convinced Shaman to stop Marus if he were to try something. Also I had my people send an Envoy to your king to establish an alliance. We both know a war with Marus will be fought on the mortal plane and in our godly plane." Informed Clique as he started to go through some of the scrolls.

Wroth-Mar
God of Conquest and Domination and God of the Kingdom of Hargun

Wroth-Mar was on his way to confront Marus when Clique suddenly approached him and told him about Marus, Shaman and a balance he could care less. Wroth-Mar looked at Clique with some interest from the words he said, finding the god's sense of fear somewhat amusing but knew the issue Clique was very much serious.

"I came here to talk to Marus himself, and you are right, I sense the feeling of conflict arising. My blood rages in joy to sense such conflict, conquest and Domination that could happen. Unfortunately, Marus is the God of Chaos, and in Chaos, there is no conquest and domination, only pure fighting. As for your envoy, I will not meddle in that, they are free and strong enough to decide, although prepare for some diplomatic issues. It is surprising to see you friend, but I must talk to Marus, alone if need be, but if you wish, you can come and witness the confrontation

With that, Wroth-Mar was about to walk when he turned and spoke again to Clique, saying

"The Balance, Clique, should and will be preserved, but you must understand that there will be a time where it will be UNbalanced, and when that happens you must accept for a time."

With that, he walked away from Clique, walking towards the lair of Marus

Clique

I would be careful Worth-Mal, we both know that if the scales are unbalanced he will gain more souls than any of us. You know that as well as I, I was hoping to get you to join the side of Order if only to ensure Marus doesn't get more souls than we do. If you want to discuss this further, come find me." Informed Clique as he smiled and disappeared in a flash of light and then reappeared where Vannyne was possessing a tree. The tree did make him feel uncomfortable, that was for sure. "Well cousin, I am sure you feel the conflict coming? Surely even you know that if Marus tips the scales of chaos and order he will gain more souls and become even stronger. I am working to create the Pantheon of Order to stop him from tipping the balance. But a war is coming, your people and mine are not safe even behind your woods. Plus we both know this war will be fought on the mortal plane and our godly plane. We both know that we cant be in two places at once. So I am offering you an alliance to help defend all of our people from Marus." Informed Clique.

[Cresadine]

Clique

I would be careful Worth-Mal, we both know that if the scales are unbalanced he will gain more souls than any of us. You know that as well as I, I was hoping to get you to join the side of Order if only to ensure Marus doesn't get more souls than we do. If you want to discuss this further, come find me." Informed Clique as he smiled and disappeared in a flash of light and then reappeared where Vannyne was possessing a tree. The tree did make him feel uncomfortable, that was for sure. "Well cousin, I am sure you feel the conflict coming? Surely even you know that if Marus tips the scales of chaos and order he will gain more souls and become even stronger. I am working to create the Pantheon of Order to stop him from tipping the balance. But a war is coming, your people and mine are not safe even behind your woods. Plus we both know this war will be fought on the mortal plane and our godly plane. We both know that we cant be in two places at once. So I am offering you an alliance to help defend all of our people from Marus." Informed Clique.

Vannyne departed the tree she was inhabiting. Her body adopted tree-like qualities when she possessed them, like the colour and texture of its bark and leaves. Quickly her body began to reform to her natural shape. Vannyne was shorter than Clique, being a tiny 3"11 - a trait she shared with the Vani. She stood before her cousin, who was mighty and tall - yet this was her land. Here in this land where the faces of the trees always watched she was queen and he was a guest in her palace. "An interesting proposal cousin, indeed. But alas, the Vani make music and tend to the trees, they do not make war and tend to their wounds. Indeed it is true, war is coming, but my people have survived many wars, indeed they were the first race - decimated by the coming of man but still alive after millenia. They as a people are older even than I, who is far older than you. We will survive, for the roots of the trees run deep - the question really is, not whether I want this alliance or not, but what will you give us?"

[Cuprum]

+

[New Roman Empire]

Clique

I would be careful Worth-Mal, we both know that if the scales are unbalanced he will gain more souls than any of us. You know that as well as I, I was hoping to get you to join the side of Order if only to ensure Marus doesn't get more souls than we do. If you want to discuss this further, come find me." Informed Clique as he smiled and disappeared in a flash of light and then reappeared where Vannyne was possessing a tree. The tree did make him feel uncomfortable, that was for sure. "Well cousin, I am sure you feel the conflict coming? Surely even you know that if Marus tips the scales of chaos and order he will gain more souls and become even stronger. I am working to create the Pantheon of Order to stop him from tipping the balance. But a war is coming, your people and mine are not safe even behind your woods. Plus we both know this war will be fought on the mortal plane and our godly plane. We both know that we cant be in two places at once. So I am offering you an alliance to help defend all of our people from Marus." Informed Clique.

Vannyne departed the tree she was inhabiting. Her body adopted tree-like qualities when she possessed them, like the colour and texture of its bark and leaves. Quickly her body began to reform to her natural shape. Vannyne was shorter than Clique, being a tiny 3"11 - a trait she shared with the Vani. She stood before her cousin, who was mighty and tall - yet this was her land. Here in this land where the faces of the trees always watched she was queen and he was a guest in her palace. "An interesting proposal cousin, indeed. But alas, the Vani make music and tend to the trees, they do not make war and tend to their wounds. Indeed it is true, war is coming, but my people have survived many wars, indeed they were the first race - decimated by the coming of man but still alive after millenia. They as a people are older even than I, who is far older than you. We will survive, for the roots of the trees run deep - the question really is, not whether I want this alliance or not, but what will you give us?"

Clique shook his head, "Yes, mortal wars. They survived MORTAL wars not a war driven by a god, Cousin trust me, Marus will come here, he will wage war and he will burn everything here down. These people, this forest will be all gone and you know what he will do after that? He will enslave everything in fear empowering himself. He will turn on us, you and the mortals. I don't think even these people will survive the wrath of a god. So what I have to offer, an alliance to ensure the survival of all of our people and frankly the world. But if you don't want in, don't come crying to us when Marus decides to go after your forest and your peace loving people. That is what I have to offer, now what do you say?" Asked Clique as he looked around and all he could see was trees. Even he had to admit this would be a sad place to lose to Marus.

Envoy from the Eldarian Empire

The evnoy that had been dispatched to go to the Kingdom of Hargun had finally arrived at their capital. He had never seen a place that was different than his and even then it was jaw dropping. He approached the castle's gates and spoke, "I am a envoy of the Eldarian Empire, I request and Audience with the King. I am on urgent business and this is for his eyes and advisors only!" Barked the envoy.

[Icthyia]

The Slaughterhouse

Xitar stirred on his throne, made from the flayed flesh of his sacrificed enemies. Their faces covered the horrifying spectacle, each face left with the visage of unending torment. Indeed; the souls of these poor victims still lingered, feeling the constant pain of their existence, but unable to scream or cry, unable to relieve their stress. Their suffering filled Xitar with glee, and their inability to find a coping mechanism made him particularly ecstatic.

Despite this sadistic distraction, Xitar quickly turned angry again. The other Gods, the schemers, he could feel their plans, he could feel their movements. He knew not what they did, he didn't know who was allied with who; but he knew, that with the increasing power of the Gods, peace would not last for long. His Butcher's carved their way through land after land, and that did not even speak of Gods with a similar temperament. Those Gods steeped in the darker, hidden aspects of the universe could not remain hidden forever. Xitar, himself, longed for bloodshed, longed for soldiers and warriors to enact their fantasies and hatreds on their enemies and victims. Even now, unspeakable horrors occurred near Firstholm. The horde slowly marched, sacrificing souls at a level never before seen, destabilizing societies with thousands of years of history, now to be forgotten, forever.

Nonetheless, Xitar could not survive alone. He was but one God, not a Highborn, as much as his own parent, Life, loathed his existence. He was a being of immense hatred, but that is not enough to carry him.

Marus, the God of Chaos, despite his conniving, annoying nature, benefited as much from the instability as Xitar did. Although Marus enjoyed a more primal form of Chaos, they both loved unraveling society from within itself, destroying the foundations of which every society found itself relying on.

With his knowledge, he reported to the realm of Marus, and psychically requested his presence.

The Siege of Firstholm

Billowing smoke filled the horizon, choking out the sun, as the fields around Firstholm burned in a fiery blaze. What was once an idyllic countryside now resembled hell itself, mutated creatures once known as men stalking its lands, murdering peasant and noble alike. Only the cruel and evil were spared, in a horrible parody of justice. They were given weapons, and allowed to turn on their neighbors, friends, and family. Farms lay barren, salted so that nothing could ever grow again, the corpses unable to fertilize it.

Now, the massive horde, hungering for food and flesh, surrounded the ancient city of Firstholm. The royal army had scattered to the winds in the southern pass, and now only a citizen's militia remained to defend the city. Poor, untrained, and with weak morale, they nonetheless knew the horrors that awaited the city if they broke. Behind it lay tens of thousands of men, women, and little children. If the horde broke in, if they broke in...few wanted to think of what would happen.

Sighting of Aratrax himself had been reported, and the Divine Butcher's presence would no doubt be a great problem. His screams could echo through the minds of the defenders, he lumbered at an amazing eight heavy, and carried numerous blessing of Xitar, the God responsible for this tragedy.

When night fell, the horde moved in. Carrying torches, the horde stretched for miles in every direction, although the soldiers, how much land was actually taken was hard to determine; few enjoyed looking at the individual members of the demonic infestation for very long. Massive war machines filled the horizon, catapults, siege towers, and ladders were spotted easily. The city could rely on counter-battery, but if the horde broke through the walls, there was little hope for the place.

As midnight struck, and the moon achieved its highest ascent, the horde began moving in unison, and the soldiers knew it was now or never.