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

[Danceria]

"Very well, my people are mustering their forces already. They are just waiting for the call, but we must get moving. We don't have a lot of time to gather allies if we are to march on the stronghold of a dark god. But the mortals will need to be prepared, for even we don't know what to expect in that damn strong hold." informed Clique as he pondered on this.

"Marching on a dark gods fortress? Heavens above what is going on here?" Tyrranus sputtered out. All of the creatures in these woods where his property. The monsters, the insects, the beasts. Anything the other gods begrudged as dull, violent things, Tyrranus domain fell upon. Splinters they where called. And they where his to protect. A dark god could harm them.

Elberes smiled upon the newcomer "The Vile Marus has marched upon Firstholm, he'll soon cross over to the Fel Lands and devastate the lands southwards. Vannyne, Lord Clique, and myself are off to rally the mortals against the Dark Powers." she walked forward to the unusual deity "I have seen you under trees, would you like to assist Lady Vannyne in rallying the forces of nature to our cause?"

[Setinel]

"Marching on a dark gods fortress? Heavens above what is going on here?" Tyrranus sputtered out. All of the creatures in these woods where his property. The monsters, the insects, the beasts. Anything the other gods begrudged as dull, violent things, Tyrranus domain fell upon. Splinters they where called. And they where his to protect. A dark god could harm them.

Elberes smiled upon the newcomer "The Vile Marus has marched upon Firstholm, he'll soon cross over to the Fel Lands and devastate the lands southwards. Vannyne, Lord Clique, and myself are off to rally the mortals against the Dark Powers." she walked forward to the unusual deity "I have seen you under trees, would you like to assist Lady Vannyne in rallying the forces of nature to our cause?"

Tyrranus was astounded. They intended to have a war of gods. Astounding. "What's in it for me and my people, Songstress?" Tyrranus asked. He knew of the medllers plight, as she occasionally came to speak to him when he was alone watching the insects feast on carcasses. Sometimes he joined.

[The New American Nations]

Raan Sil walked to the door of the palace which served as his home within the realm of Bozeim. No Raan Sil had stepped foot in the realm itself since the second Raan Sil, who had been a young Orc woman before killing the original God of Assassins and Thieves and taking his place. Raan opened it slowly, looking out at the realm of fire and brimstone, sulfur billowing and forming a deep fog. No wonder no one had seen anything outside of the palace for thousands upon thousands of years.

Raan sighed and shut the door, walking back to the main room of the palace, looking at the two mirrors which stood side-by-side. From here he could watch over the Brotherhood of Shadows and the Thieves Alliance. From here, he could influence them, help them, and guide them through their missions. He smiled, remembering his time as an assassin for the Brotherhood. Raan, whose mortal name had been Elias, was a mighty warrior, a stealthy killer, and one of the best assassin's in the Brotherhood. It was no wonder that he had become Raan, though everyone was quite surprised at how quickly someone had killed his predecessor.

He kind of missed being out in the field, silently slipping up on his targets and ending their life, sending them to the void. It was a great time in his life, but he knew that neither organization would survive under the last Raan Sil, how that incompetent Red Neyaphem had been able to kill his predecessor he'd never know. Raan sighed, watching the mirrors, before a thought crept into his mind. Perhaps it was time to check up on the other gods, and perhaps get out in the field once more.

[New Roman Empire]

Elberes smiled upon the newcomer "The Vile Marus has marched upon Firstholm, he'll soon cross over to the Fel Lands and devastate the lands southwards. Vannyne, Lord Clique, and myself are off to rally the mortals against the Dark Powers." she walked forward to the unusual deity "I have seen you under trees, would you like to assist Lady Vannyne in rallying the forces of nature to our cause?"

Tyrranus was astounded. They intended to have a war of gods. Astounding. "What's in it for me and my people, Songstress?" Tyrranus asked. He knew of the medllers plight, as she occasionally came to speak to him when he was alone watching the insects feast on carcasses. Sometimes he joined.

Clique looked at the new arrival, Tyrranus always had been a strange sort. "You want to know what's in it for your people? Their survival, cause if we fail and this god gains enough power. It will gain more soils and become even stronger. Then it will be hunted down and eliminated. That should be reason enough." Informed Clique as he joined the two gods in their conversation.

[Pantorrum]

Ezin
Pericox
Room of the World

Ezin had just left the Throne of Judgement after a long time of sending souls through one of three doors, and giving them their earned afterlife. Every person who died would come before the throne to hear their eternity. It was a long and mentally tasking exercise, one that no one should take lightly. Through the use of his divine powers, he had created Angels and invested certain ones with special tasks. Those certain angels were known as High Angels, and there were two. The first was Serimon, the first High Angel Ezin created. The second was Malakith. Above both of them, however, was the Arch-Angel. His name was Terion, and he was essentially the second highest being in Pericox. Aside from them, 600,000 angels resided in the realm.

Controlling the Door to Heaven and the Door to Hell gave him a great deal of power, and it essentially made him the God of the Afterlife. He controlled where you would go, and if you went to hell he determined your punishment for all eternity. If you went to heaven, he determined on what level you would be.

With such vast numbers of Angels to help him carry out his tasks, Ezin could often chose when or when not to do one of them himself. He could go between Judging the World, Judging Souls, and Creating Souls as he pleased. Often, he found himself in the Room of the World, paying close attention to Farhiem and everything that happened there. It was, after all, his favorite task.

Now, he had gone to the Room of the World, where he judged the nations and the different societies of Farheim. He had looked down to see the siege of Firstholm. Under any normal circumstance, he would have judged the nation conducting such acts. Now, however, it was not a nation. It was another god, and that rested outside of his domain. He could not judge a god, only mortal creatures. It was unfortunate, but something that rested outside of his control.

His gaze did shift to the city of Amersil, which sat on the coast of a small bay. It was a vile city, filled with thieves and greed. Murders were common place and violence occurred on a daily basis. The city had good, but only a glimmer of it. For the most part, it was entirely filled with darkness. And on the scales of Good and Evil, it tipped almost entirely in the direction of evil. Not only was the city vile, but it was spreading its corruption to small neighboring villages. Greed was consuming the entire region, and it could not be allowed. An example had to be made of the city, it needed to be judged. He turned to face Serimon.

"Serimon," he said in a deep and commanding voice. "Go to the city of Amersil and tell them this: If they do not turn from their ways, if they do not renounce the ways of darkness and seek forgiveness for the sends of the flesh, I will destroy Amersil. If they do not stop their acts in one week, they will be no more." Serimon nodded, but couldn't help but question Ezin.

"Your holiness, what of the innocent? What of the children? Shall they to be condemned for the sins of others? You know that the town is to vile to actually change." Serimon asked with genuine concern. So genuine, that his question actually swayed Ezin.

"No, they will not be condemned. You are to also tell the innocent of the city that they are to leave at once, never to look back at Amersil again. And stop the sinners from leaving in any way you must." Smiling, Serimon vanished from sight, teleporting to the city.

---

Serimon
Amersil

The inhabitants of the city looked up as a bright light suddenly appeared in the sky. The blinding, white light pierced into every crevice. All darkness was wiped away by the time the light spoke, and every face in the city was looking at it. When Serimon opened his mouth, his voice boomed with authority. The divine noise was heard by even the deaf. It was heard by everyone in their native tongue, and they would know that the voice was foretelling of great doom. The dark tone would cast shadows of fear into every mind.

"Citizens of Amersil, you have committed sins to great to be tolerated. You are corrupted, greedy, murderous, and thieving. You break every law of morality, and for your misdoings, the city of Amersil will be destroyed." The city went into a panic, hundreds yelling and pleading for mercy. This only caused the voice to get louder, drowning out the cries. "Unless you turn from your wicked ways, and the great scales of Justice are balanced again. You have one week. Anyone who tries to leave the city will die." The light stopped speaking to everyone, but still remained. The next thing he said was heard only by those who are innocent, those who would go to heaven should they die right now.

"You who are innocent, hear me now. You will flee this city in 6 days should you not see me again, for on the 7th day, Amersil will be destroyed. You are the only ones who can leave the city without perishing."

Then, as quickly as the light appeared, it vanished again.

[Danceria]

Tyrranus was astounded. They intended to have a war of gods. Astounding. "What's in it for me and my people, Songstress?" Tyrranus asked. He knew of the medllers plight, as she occasionally came to speak to him when he was alone watching the insects feast on carcasses. Sometimes he joined.

Clique looked at the new arrival, Tyrranus always had been a strange sort. "You want to know what's in it for your people? Their survival, cause if we fail and this god gains enough power. It will gain more soils and become even stronger. Then it will be hunted down and eliminated. That should be reason enough." Informed Clique as he joined the two gods in their conversation.

"That..." Elberes nodded, wincing at the orderly god's bluntness. "As well as the fact that the smaller creatures of this world will join side by side with the mighty, and we might join in harmony. No longer will the insects your dominion would be considered "less than" those that make cities and music with instruments they craft." she paused and looked up at the heavens, and a light breeze fluttered through the trees. With a smile she turned to the two gods "Clique, I do believe I have found ourselves an ally just and powerful to fight against the Dark Powers..." with that, she vanished into a small ball of light.

Ezin
Pericox
Room of the World

Ezin had just left the Throne of Judgement after a long time of sending souls through one of three doors, and giving them their earned afterlife. Every person who died would come before the throne to hear their eternity. It was a long and mentally tasking exercise, one that no one should take lightly. Through the use of his divine powers, he had created Angels and invested certain ones with special tasks. Those certain angels were known as High Angels, and there were two. The first was Serimon, the first High Angel Ezin created. The second was Malakith. Above both of them, however, was the Arch-Angel. His name was Terion, and he was essentially the second highest being in Pericox. Aside from them, 600,000 angels resided in the realm.

Controlling the Door to Heaven and the Door to Hell gave him a great deal of power, and it essentially made him the God of the Afterlife. He controlled where you would go, and if you went to hell he determined your punishment for all eternity. If you went to heaven, he determined on what level you would be.

With such vast numbers of Angels to help him carry out his tasks, Ezin could often chose when or when not to do one of them himself. He could go between Judging the World, Judging Souls, and Creating Souls as he pleased. Often, he found himself in the Room of the World, paying close attention to Farhiem and everything that happened there. It was, after all, his favorite task.

Now, he had gone to the Room of the World, where he judged the nations and the different societies of Farheim. He had looked down to see the siege of Firstholm. Under any normal circumstance, he would have judged the nation conducting such acts. Now, however, it was not a nation. It was another god, and that rested outside of his domain. He could not judge a god, only mortal creatures. It was unfortunate, but something that rested outside of his control.

His gaze did shift to the city of Amersil, which sat on the coast of a small bay. It was a vile city, filled with thieves and greed. Murders were common place and violence occurred on a daily basis. The city had good, but only a glimmer of it. For the most part, it was entirely filled with darkness. And on the scales of Good and Evil, it tipped almost entirely in the direction of evil. Not only was the city vile, but it was spreading its corruption to small neighboring villages. Greed was consuming the entire region, and it could not be allowed. An example had to be made of the city, it needed to be judged. He turned to face Serimon.

"Serimon," he said in a deep and commanding voice. "Go to the city of Amersil and tell them this: If they do not turn from their ways, if they do not renounce the ways of darkness and seek forgiveness for the sends of the flesh, I will destroy Amersil. If they do not stop their acts in one week, they will be no more." Serimon nodded, but couldn't help but question Ezin.

"Your holiness, what of the innocent? What of the children? Shall they to be condemned for the sins of others? You know that the town is to vile to actually change." Serimon asked with genuine concern. So genuine, that his question actually swayed Ezin.

"No, they will not be condemned. You are to also tell the innocent of the city that they are to leave at once, never to look back at Amersil again. And stop the sinners from leaving in any way you must." Smiling, Serimon vanished from sight, teleporting to the city.

---

Serimon
Amersil

The inhabitants of the city looked up as a bright light suddenly appeared in the sky. The blinding, white light pierced into every crevice. All darkness was wiped away by the time the light spoke, and every face in the city was looking at it. When Serimon opened his mouth, his voice boomed with authority. The divine noise was heard by even the deaf. It was heard by everyone in their native tongue, and they would know that the voice was foretelling of great doom. The dark tone would cast shadows of fear into every mind.

"Citizens of Amersil, you have committed sins to great to be tolerated. You are corrupted, greedy, murderous, and thieving. You break every law of morality, and for your misdoings, the city of Amersil will be destroyed." The city went into a panic, hundreds yelling and pleading for mercy. This only caused the voice to get louder, drowning out the cries. "Unless you turn from your wicked ways, and the great scales of Justice are balanced again. You have one week. Anyone who tries to leave the city will die." The light stopped speaking to everyone, but still remained. The next thing he said was heard only by those who are innocent, those who would go to heaven should they die right now.

"You who are innocent, hear me now. You will flee this city in 6 days should you not see me again, for on the 7th day, Amersil will be destroyed. You are the only ones who can leave the city without perishing."

Then, as quickly as the light appeared, it vanished again.

In the hundreds of miles between Oracle Lake and the city of Amersil, the small star-like object darted across the heavens and landed gently in the rolling hills surrounding the city. Again she took the form of a little Elberen girl. She carried a flute and a lute that looked too large for the small child as she slung it over her slender shoulders. Thus the Songstress came upon a group of refugees fleeing the city.
"Where are you going?" she asked in childlike innocence. The person who answered was a middle age woman, her face wrinkled with stress of living in such a place as Amersil. "Oh child..." she answered "You must leave, for the people of this city are condemned..."

"Why?" she asked again, her chocolate dark eyes alight with concern and curiosity.

"The Just God Ezin commands it." another refugee answered, this time a gruff man "It's sin reeks so high, 'e's commanded all to repent by week's end or be destroyed. Those who have done no wrong were told to flee. Serve's 'um right..."

"So what happens if they do repent...?" she asked, her little feet scampering over to the broad and bronzed man who spoke gruffly. "What happens then?"

"Then the city's spared, but I doubt that..." he sighed, "I suggest you get what belongings an' family you've got and get out of the city..."

"I'll help 'em!" she smiled and jumped in excitement "They'll turn their lives around by week's end, if not sooner!"

The broad shouldered man threw back his head and roared in laughter, "You? A little girl? How's a wee lass like you gonna convince a whole rotten city like Amersil to turn it's ways?"

She pulled out her flute and smiled, "I'll sing to them." she played a few notes after that simple answer.

The broad shouldered man laughed "No lass, get out while you can...that's what most smart people are doin'..."

She harumph-ed and stamped her foot upon being set down and wandered up the refugee column to the city itself. Elberes had hoped to deal with this "Ezin" herself, however as the Fates would have it, a young boy would follow her out of curiosity, and out of her sight. That child's name was Barades...

[Pantorrum]

Ezin
Room of the World

---

He sat, curiously looking down at the city. It was already happening, the innocent were leaving. And the Magical Barrier erected around the city kept all those who had not repented and turned from their ways trapped within. The city was lost, defeated from within by the instruments of darkness. Corruption, greed, hate, murder, thievery, lying, it all marked the city. It made Amersil a scar on the face of Farhiem, a scar that that Ezin had grown tired of tolerating.

No, this wasn't the first time he had looked at the city. Every day it caught his attention, the people falling to the ways of the dark. Every day, they grew more and more wicked. And for so long he spared them, giving them chance after chance to change. He had hoped it wouldn't come to this, and he very rarely took such desperate measures. But in this case, the wickedness wasn't just growing inward-it was growing outward. The region was beginning to fall to darkness. That was what really pushed him over the edge. He couldn't wait any more, he could give no more chances. This was it. If Amersil was not delivered, the world needed to know the power of Ezin, and the fate that awaits all who succumb to the lure of evil.

A he watched the city, his gaze was brought to that of a goddess, disguising herself as a child. A clever disguise, the inquisitive girl had gotten all the information she sought with ease. He knew exactly who it was, as nothing couldn't be hidden from the God of Judgement who sat in the sky. It was the Goddess of Starlight and the Arts, and why she had come to Amersil was a mystery beyond even Ezin's great insight.

Summoning the Archangel of his armies, he turned to give a loud command.
"Terion, you are to go and summon the Elberes here. She has found her way to the outskirts of Amersil, near the hills, and I find it necessary to speak with her myself. Perhaps she has questions about the fate of Amersil."

Terion only nodded, understanding Ezin perfectly. He had been his first angel, created millennia ago. He had served loyally, and had a close bond with his maker.
"As you wish, my King. Shall I begin the destruction of the city? It seems most of the innocent have left by now. There is no longer a need to give them time." Ezin was quick to respond, rising to his feet and turning to face Terion.

"No," he said forcefully. "The city was promised one week to repent. I am a God of my word, and it's a week they shall have. Though it is unlikely, it's not to late for the city to become renewed again, and for them to turn from sin and darkness. It is never to late. Now go, and deliver my message to Elberes."

Understanding entirely, Terion left for Farhiem. In but a flash of light, he was gone and appeared near Elberes. She was exactly where Ezin had said she would be It was not difficult to spot her, not for the Angel at least. Actually, she had not had any Angel sent to retrieve her. She had been sent the Archangel. Disguising himself as an elderly man, he walked in a limping fashion, holding a cane and wearing worn clothing.

"You girl, what is it you do here in Amersil? This city will not long remain, it be best of you get on your way. I can see you are interested here, but I can take you to a place you can have answers. Perhaps you seek an audience with Him?"

[Setinel]

Tyrranus was astounded. They intended to have a war of gods. Astounding. "What's in it for me and my people, Songstress?" Tyrranus asked. He knew of the medllers plight, as she occasionally came to speak to him when he was alone watching the insects feast on carcasses. Sometimes he joined.

Clique looked at the new arrival, Tyrranus always had been a strange sort. "You want to know what's in it for your people? Their survival, cause if we fail and this god gains enough power. It will gain more soils and become even stronger. Then it will be hunted down and eliminated. That should be reason enough." Informed Clique as he joined the two gods in their conversation.

"I have no quarrel with any god who would not directly threaten me. I choose survival," Tyrranus shook his head stepping back. "The only thing that matters is my people. We will retreat need be to my own realm. Leave me out of your war."

[Danceria]

Ezin
Room of the World

---

He sat, curiously looking down at the city. It was already happening, the innocent were leaving. And the Magical Barrier erected around the city kept all those who had not repented and turned from their ways trapped within. The city was lost, defeated from within by the instruments of darkness. Corruption, greed, hate, murder, thievery, lying, it all marked the city. It made Amersil a scar on the face of Farhiem, a scar that that Ezin had grown tired of tolerating.

No, this wasn't the first time he had looked at the city. Every day it caught his attention, the people falling to the ways of the dark. Every day, they grew more and more wicked. And for so long he spared them, giving them chance after chance to change. He had hoped it wouldn't come to this, and he very rarely took such desperate measures. But in this case, the wickedness wasn't just growing inward-it was growing outward. The region was beginning to fall to darkness. That was what really pushed him over the edge. He couldn't wait any more, he could give no more chances. This was it. If Amersil was not delivered, the world needed to know the power of Ezin, and the fate that awaits all who succumb to the lure of evil.

A he watched the city, his gaze was brought to that of a goddess, disguising herself as a child. A clever disguise, the inquisitive girl had gotten all the information she sought with ease. He knew exactly who it was, as nothing couldn't be hidden from the God of Judgement who sat in the sky. It was the Goddess of Starlight and the Arts, and why she had come to Amersil was a mystery beyond even Ezin's great insight.

Summoning the Archangel of his armies, he turned to give a loud command.
"Terion, you are to go and summon the Elberes here. She has found her way to the outskirts of Amersil, near the hills, and I find it necessary to speak with her myself. Perhaps she has questions about the fate of Amersil."

Terion only nodded, understanding Ezin perfectly. He had been his first angel, created millennia ago. He had served loyally, and had a close bond with his maker.
"As you wish, my King. Shall I begin the destruction of the city? It seems most of the innocent have left by now. There is no longer a need to give them time." Ezin was quick to respond, rising to his feet and turning to face Terion.

"No," he said forcefully. "The city was promised one week to repent. I am a God of my word, and it's a week they shall have. Though it is unlikely, it's not to late for the city to become renewed again, and for them to turn from sin and darkness. It is never to late. Now go, and deliver my message to Elberes."

Understanding entirely, Terion left for Farhiem. In but a flash of light, he was gone and appeared near Elberes. She was exactly where Ezin had said she would be It was not difficult to spot her, not for the Angel at least. Actually, she had not had any Angel sent to retrieve her. She had been sent the Archangel. Disguising himself as an elderly man, he walked in a limping fashion, holding a cane and wearing worn clothing.

"You girl, what is it you do here in Amersil? This city will not long remain, it be best of you get on your way. I can see you are interested here, but I can take you to a place you can have answers. Perhaps you seek an audience with Him?"

"It will remain long enough for what I wish to do." the young girl spoke with a knowing glint in her eyes, and the slightest curl of a smirk. "Though it would appear that Ezin has done exactly what I wished. You are no doubt an Angel of his, and his eyes and ears, and are a messenger for me to leave, correct?" she smiled "There is a question I wish to ask, a question and two request. My first request if it does not interfere with your master's work, is to have a little wager, with you as witness. I aim to aid the people of Amersil into being more virtuous than they are now, and I believe they have six days to do so. By the end of six days if I am successful in my endeavor, not only must Ezin stay his wrath, but abide by a request I have of him, as I would have proven myself in both power and intent." she unhitched her lute from her back and began to pluck a few strings leaning in to whisper "My second request to correspond with the former is for the both of us not to reveal our identities to the mortals, as they may repent out of fear rather than a genuine desire for change." she leaned back and smiled "Lastly, do you know where a section of town called "Skimpskirt Street" is? I hear it's loaded with houses with people that do...grown up things." she concluded, reverting into her disguise of childlike naivete.

[Pantorrum]

"It will remain long enough for what I wish to do." the young girl spoke with a knowing glint in her eyes, and the slightest curl of a smirk. "Though it would appear that Ezin has done exactly what I wished. You are no doubt an Angel of his, and his eyes and ears, and are a messenger for me to leave, correct?" she smiled "There is a question I wish to ask, a question and two request. My first request if it does not interfere with your master's work, is to have a little wager, with you as witness. I aim to aid the people of Amersil into being more virtuous than they are now, and I believe they have six days to do so. By the end of six days if I am successful in my endeavor, not only must Ezin stay his wrath, but abide by a request I have of him, as I would have proven myself in both power and intent." she unhitched her lute from her back and began to pluck a few strings leaning in to whisper "My second request to correspond with the former is for the both of us not to reveal our identities to the mortals, as they may repent out of fear rather than a genuine desire for change." she leaned back and smiled "Lastly, do you know where a section of town called "Skimpskirt Street" is? I hear it's loaded with houses with people that do...grown up things." she concluded, reverting into her disguise of childlike naivete.

Archangel Terion
Amersil

---

The Archangel let out a smile. Looking down on the goddess as she kept her disguise, he couldn't help but wonder why she would care so much as to save Amersil. She was not a goddess of the Afterlife, why would she want to intervene in the judgement of a guilty people? None the less, he continue the conversation.

"Im sure you can find Skimpskirt Street. You could find those kind of sinners on almost any street in this city. My question is this, what would you ask of his eternal highness? What is it that Ezin would have to do should you save this city? And above that, why do care about Amersil? There are so many righteous places in this world, why save these quilt people who refuse to repent of their sins to Ezin? Do they deserve to live?"

Then he got a sudden message, as if from Ezin himself. Only the Archangel could hear it, of course.
Terion, remember, it is not your place to judge these people. it is my place and mine alone. They have not yet been condemned, hope remains for them yet.

[Drakmah]

[Azezal, Lord of The Pit and embodiment of Corruption]
[The First Layer of The Pit]

Testament of the Ancients

In the first age, when the shadows first lengthened, they stood around the gaping maw on the plains of elysium and stared into the howling abyss that breathed death and torment. It was the commune of judgement, and there the decision was made that falling for eternity would be enough punishment for those deemed unfit to enter the paradises of the gods. They knew nothing of the wonder that they stared into, thinking it a horrible end forged by the Creator for those who were sure to incur the wrath of their colleagues. They knew nothing of the land beneath the fall, and they knew nothing of the eyes staring back up at them. They would not know these eyes for a millennium, but once they did these eyes would bore into their skulls a symbol of revenge and retribution. They would know him as the Harbinger, and he would bring his fury down on them with extreme prejudice.

”It is time“

Azezal lifted his hood over his head, the shadows that enveloped him then being draw into the magic of the artifact as his size began to lessen and he folded into conjured robes and clothing. Now standing at six feet, three inches tall he called for the tortured souls that were assigned to assist him to place upon his shoulders the mantle that would allow him to leave this place, allow him to go forth and see what worlds had been made in his absence as he brought them all to their knees. They would pay for the sins of their creator, he who they thought was perfect, he who had made them who they were today. They were all indirect products of that heartless monster, and they will all die for it.

The large metal pauldrons were placed on his shoulders, with the magical straps winding around his form to secure them to his person. With these wings he would be able to travel the planes of existence and bring his revenge to all who stood in his path. Soon the tortured souls of The Pit stood back, Azezal holding all seven of his artifacts. On his right hand he wore his gauntlet, his sword on his back. Around his neck sat his amulet, his heart impounded into his chest, and his ring clutching to his finger. Finally, his hood lay draped around his head, whilst his great wings sprouted from the metal mantle and hung in limbo as they awaited his command. While not traditional wings such as those from a bird, they were black tendrils of pure corrupted energy that propelled him upwards, allowing for flight. With their magic at his back he pushed off the ground and soared into the air, the red and black dust that made up the ground of The Pit being thrown up around him. The Forerunner climbed and climbed, going up into the gaping hole in the sky of the First layer. Souls came tumbling down past him as he flew upwards, Azezal having to dodge and weave to avoid hitting any of them. While his heart was practically made of Malice toward the people of Farhiem and their gods, he held a generous kindness towards those who were tossed into the pit, and as such avoided collision to keep their journey to his realm as painless as possible.

He hadn’t remembered how far the journey down was, but he was climbing much faster than he had fell originally. He reached the crest of his prison much faster than he thought he would have, and when he flew upwards into the plains of Elysium he stopped, hearing the shouting of people below him. He looked down, seeing great armored guardians taking up arms to stop him, but he was a Forerunner, still holding the power he was given when he was birthed in the first age by the Creator. He landed, the soft grass that coated the plains feeling strange under his feet. He had known nothing of anything but the sand and rocks of The Pit, and as such almost felt uncomfortable.

“Stop! By order of the Highborn none are allowed to leave The Pit. Return from whence you came and you shall avoid the punishment of your lords.”

Azezal looked up at the hulking entity, it being entirely covered in armor whilst holding large metal spears.

”You will be the first to fall.” He said in a quiet voice, the forerunner unsheathing his sword from his back and holding it in gauntleted hand. Blackish green energy swarmed into the blade, the cracks in the metal coming to life in the same color as swung it left and then right. Loosening up his arm. The two metal covered guardians leveled their spears at him and charged, the ground shaking under their weight. With his wings still sprouted he stood and waited, allowing the tips to come as possible before he dashed backwards just a few feet, the energy of the wings propelling him. Their spears plunged into the ground, having been aimed for his small stature. He then pressed his foot down and launched forward, his legs carrying him up the length of the spear as he climbed towards one of the guardians. Having come close he reversed his grip on his sword, the large two-handed weapon now being carried as if it were a simple assassin’s dagger. Once he reached a close enough distance he pushed off the metal shaft and leaped towards the Guardian, his sword outstretched in a stabbing position. When he collided with the entity his hand gripped the top of the breastplate, his gauntleted hand impaling his sword deep into the metal. It cut through the armor as if it were paper, making it cry out in anguish as it crashed to the ground. He aborted his holding on it just before it landed, rolling on the never dying grass before he raised, looking towards the other.

It had pulled its spear from the ground and was beginning another charge, the Guardian knowing not to make the same mistake again. However there was now enough distance between them that Azezal sheathed his sword on his back and leveled the palm of his gauntlet with the entity. After a second a beam of energy shot from it, the focused laser like line of pure energy pouring into the Guardian. It dropped to one knee, its pristine armor beginning to crack and shatter. Piece by piece it fell apart, his energy battling the lifeforce of such an ancient warrior.

There was no contest. With the might of a Highborne in his power he cracked its will and sent it to the ground, the magic so concentrated it seeped out of him in a mist like state. He pressed his ungloved finger to the center of his amulet and felt as all of his power returned to him, being drawn out the Guardian and back into him. This left the ancient a lifeless husk, something he planned on doing to many more.

”It is finished” He said, in his same quiet voice. With that he walked on the never dying grass for a few moments, soon taking flight as he tore out of the plane of Elysium and into the world of Farhiem. While it was an effective way of travel it was not a quiet one, and would have left a magical aftershock that might even have been unheard of in this realm. The trans-planar travel had brought him to what looked like a city. There were people leaving the city in vast numbers to the point where it seemed to be an evacuation. He began to cross the distance to the city as he planned his next step.

The one issue he found was his inability to navigate the world and his lack of omniscience, his time in The Pit having left him blind to the worlds that were made after his imprisonment. He would have to learn this world one piece at a time, and to do that might mean restraining himself. He would have to find his way into the archives, a place that even he knew of. Because of his banishment he had no way of simply entering them, meaning that he would have to seek out its physical entrance instead of simply using his mantle to travel there. Once he was there however he could use his power of corruption to poison the magical of creation, and bring everything the new gods had created to an end.

His blackened wings retracted as he walked to the city, which unknown to him was called Amersil. He would begin here, his ultimate goal an ends to justify all means.

[Danceria]

"It will remain long enough for what I wish to do." the young girl spoke with a knowing glint in her eyes, and the slightest curl of a smirk. "Though it would appear that Ezin has done exactly what I wished. You are no doubt an Angel of his, and his eyes and ears, and are a messenger for me to leave, correct?" she smiled "There is a question I wish to ask, a question and two request. My first request if it does not interfere with your master's work, is to have a little wager, with you as witness. I aim to aid the people of Amersil into being more virtuous than they are now, and I believe they have six days to do so. By the end of six days if I am successful in my endeavor, not only must Ezin stay his wrath, but abide by a request I have of him, as I would have proven myself in both power and intent." she unhitched her lute from her back and began to pluck a few strings leaning in to whisper "My second request to correspond with the former is for the both of us not to reveal our identities to the mortals, as they may repent out of fear rather than a genuine desire for change." she leaned back and smiled "Lastly, do you know where a section of town called "Skimpskirt Street" is? I hear it's loaded with houses with people that do...grown up things." she concluded, reverting into her disguise of childlike naivete.

Archangel Terion
Amersil

---

The Archangel let out a smile. Looking down on the goddess as she kept her disguise, he couldn't help but wonder why she would care so much as to save Amersil. She was not a goddess of the Afterlife, why would she want to intervene in the judgement of a guilty people? None the less, he continue the conversation.

"Im sure you can find Skimpskirt Street. You could find those kind of sinners on almost any street in this city. My question is this, what would you ask of his eternal highness? What is it that Ezin would have to do should you save this city? And above that, why do care about Amersil? There are so many righteous places in this world, why save these quilt people who refuse to repent of their sins to Ezin? Do they deserve to live?"

Then he got a sudden message, as if from Ezin himself. Only the Archangel could hear it, of course.
Terion, remember, it is not your place to judge these people. it is my place and mine alone. They have not yet been condemned, hope remains for them yet.

"Patience...it's one of the seven cardinal virtues, is it not?" Elberes smiled "And keep an eye on the blonde haired boy who followed me in...he's one of the "innocents" I believe." she giggled and dragged the Archangel along as a child would their parent "Come along Grandad! Let's visit the city one last time before it's leveled..." she smiled as she dragged him over to the child known as Barades, who was hiding behind a barrel.

[Maljaratas]

Frankly, sitting in the Archives and reading about stuff was far less interesting than simply observing it, yet it was what Zubher was doing. At the moment, he was rererererereading the scrolls of Fe, always coming back to the part about the five... thinking to himself,

"How where there exactly five, why not 4 or 7 or 6?"

And just as he seemed to be on the verge of discovering something, he was interrupted by a sudden incessant prayer; with all else forgotten. He was always happy to receive a prayer. Except,
It was from Mutehand. A town who was scheduled for disaster, in the form of a drought. And almost no one had prayed in years. While they would have mostly lived through it, and on to a time of wonderful weather for crops, this could not be passed by.

So to answer their prayers for rain, they received a nice Dubstep Storm instead. With the entire town gone, and damage to to other "nearby" towns, maybe the mortals would think next time before questioning him. As was his custom, the ones who he determined had started the prayer movement were sentenced to eternity in his realm, or the death of their soul, whichever came first' and the rest off to Judgement.

Of course, in due time, the winds brought news of the impending destruction of Amersil by... Ezin? Since when did he destroy stuff? Regardless, Zubher was soon above the city in his gaseous state... just watching. "It could be fun to one-up Ezin... yes, yes it would be". With that, he began the silent buildup of a storm to level it... all the while continuing to watch the city from above.

[Setinel]

Clique looked at the new arrival, Tyrranus always had been a strange sort. "You want to know what's in it for your people? Their survival, cause if we fail and this god gains enough power. It will gain more soils and become even stronger. Then it will be hunted down and eliminated. That should be reason enough." Informed Clique as he joined the two gods in their conversation.

"I have no quarrel with any god who would not directly threaten me. I choose survival," Tyrranus shook his head stepping back. "The only thing that matters is my people. We will retreat need be to my own realm. Leave me out of your war."

[New Roman Empire]

"I have no quarrel with any god who would not directly threaten me. I choose survival," Tyrranus shook his head stepping back. "The only thing that matters is my people. We will retreat need be to my own realm. Leave me out of your war."

Clique shook his head, "Do you really think that will be enough? We all will be hunted down and killed. Your people won't be able to hide in their own realm. So either join us and gave allies or stand alone. That is your choice, but wether you like it or not. War is coming and sooner or later it will be on your doorstep as well as ours." Informed Clique .

[Setinel]

Clique shook his head, "Do you really think that will be enough? We all will be hunted down and killed. Your people won't be able to hide in their own realm. So either join us and gave allies or stand alone. That is your choice, but wether you like it or not. War is coming and sooner or later it will be on your doorstep as well as ours." Informed Clique .

"In that case, you really think you could stand against a chaos god?" Tyrranus asked. "I will avoid sides in this war. But when the time comes to side, I can assure you I'll be with the winner."

[New Roman Empire]

Clique shook his head, "Do you really think that will be enough? We all will be hunted down and killed. Your people won't be able to hide in their own realm. So either join us and gave allies or stand alone. That is your choice, but wether you like it or not. War is coming and sooner or later it will be on your doorstep as well as ours." Informed Clique .

"In that case, you really think you could stand against a chaos god?" Tyrranus asked. "I will avoid sides in this war. But when the time comes to side, I can assure you I'll be with the winner."

"Yes, don't forget I am the god of order. I will not allow chaos to succeed. So go hide, wait for it to come to your door step. Or you can join us and not allow chaos and destruction and slavery to infest the land." Informed Clique.

[Setinel]

"In that case, you really think you could stand against a chaos god?" Tyrranus asked. "I will avoid sides in this war. But when the time comes to side, I can assure you I'll be with the winner."

"Yes, don't forget I am the god of order. I will not allow chaos to succeed. So go hide, wait for it to come to your door step. Or you can join us and not allow chaos and destruction and slavery to infest the land." Informed Clique.

"Chaos is the natural order of things. I will welcome it's arrival." Tyrranus replied, unwavering in his voice. "When you are sure you can win this war, then you may approach me. But until then, I will put my people first."

[New Roman Empire]

"Yes, don't forget I am the god of order. I will not allow chaos to succeed. So go hide, wait for it to come to your door step. Or you can join us and not allow chaos and destruction and slavery to infest the land." Informed Clique.

"Chaos is the natural order of things. I will welcome it's arrival." Tyrranus replied, unwavering in his voice. "When you are sure you can win this war, then you may approach me. But until then, I will put my people first."

"I'm certain we will win. Order always prevails over chaos. Plus again, they won't care, they will come after you. You and your people alone won't stand a chance. Plus we have majority of the gods." Informed Clique.

[Setinel]

"Chaos is the natural order of things. I will welcome it's arrival." Tyrranus replied, unwavering in his voice. "When you are sure you can win this war, then you may approach me. But until then, I will put my people first."

"I'm certain we will win. Order always prevails over chaos. Plus again, they won't care, they will come after you. You and your people alone won't stand a chance. Plus we have majority of the gods." Informed Clique.

"Regardless, I want to see Marus incapable of winning before I pledge you my allegiance." Tyrranus crossed his arms.

[Bentus]

Aoyama
Goddess of Rebellion and Freedom

---

The Great Warrior God sat imposingly upon his throne, weathering the unyielding verbal fusillade with an increasingly weary expression. Issumatar – King of Honour, Master of War, Feller of Armies and Deliverer of Triumph – was a name that brought either fear or respect across the lands. Wrongdoers would grovel for mercy before his Grace, while his loyal followers would show him nothing but admiration, with even other deities granting the powerful figure at least the pretence of respect. None would dare cross paths with the God, lest they risk his ruthless wrath, save for at least two creatures in all of existence. Sakari was one, with the Warrior God valuing his wife’s opinion above all others, her opinions often a taming force on his decisions and an influence that he always sincerely treasured. Unfortunately, it was his own creation – having taken strongly after her mother – that was now unleashing the vocal tirade.

“You’re a warmonger!” Aoyama yelled, levelling the accusation with a healthy dose of venom. Her father rubbing his temples as he watched the young Goddess pace angrily back and forth. Along with the fierce determination, she had also inherited her mother’s beauty – a vibrant spark of defiance seemingly permanently lit in her bright green eyes. “You see the faintest sign of a conflict brewing and you can’t but help yourself to fan the flames until they consume all before them!”

He had been enduring the barrage of barbed allegations and inflamed comments for an age. While having initially intended to weather through his daughter’s fury, she appeared to wield a more capable stamina than he had expected. Instead of burning herself out like a momentary ember brought to life by a gust of wind, Aoyama had torn into her father with a vindictive stubbornness, cutting off his every chance to draw her back to a calmer conversation.

“Aoyama, you are not some mortal child that can be expected to ignore the wider –“

“Of course I’m not, because you do not even care about the mortal children, do you? Sending their fathers and mothers off to wage a war while they are left orphaned and starved at home!”

Unwilling to relent, the young goddess continued to probe and sting at her father’s armour. “The mortals are not soulless husks which can be used as mere playthings by you and our kin, played and discarded like some inconsequential pieces on our boards.”

“Aoyama…” Issumatar growled, growing tired of this pointless distraction from a daughter who was too stubborn to listen to any reason but her own. But, if Aoyama detected the warning in his tone, she paid it no heed.

“Even the Ulvan are nothing but a tool to you, to be used to further your own selfish ends – their own wishes naught beside the current whims of their all-powerful Deity as he sits –“

“Enough!” Issumatar’s voice boomed out across the palace like an explosion tearing through its halls. Mortals winced at the scathing sound as tribesmen below heard it as a thunder clashing through the heavens. The single word, stated as an order with all the force of one of the most powerful beings in all of Creation, caused even Aoyama to be stopped in her tracks. Issumatar looked into his daughter’s eyes, wanting nothing more than to sit down and explain to her why what he was doing was necessary, why their responsibilities to the mortals extended far beyond the short term good that seemed to constantly cloud her vision. But, looking into the pair of green gems that continued to glower defiantly back at him from that small form, he knew that it would do no good this night.

With a deep sigh of resignation, Issumatar waved a dismissive hand, ending the conversation without another word. Aoyama bit her lip in frustration, her fists clenched at her sides as she stood stubbornly still for a few more seconds. It appeared as if she were ready to make another outburst, to dispute her father’s authority further. But eventually, it was Aoyama whose gaze wavered, looking away from her father’s piercing glare as she bowed respectfully, before immediately turning and storming out of the throne room in frustration.

---

Adelfo Foti had fought tooth and nail to arrive at his position of prominence. Beginning life as but the lowly son of a noble in the lower ranks of the houses of Amersil, he had taken the only path which had been open to one of his status and birth: military service. A youth spent on the battlefield had hardened his outlook, the thrill and terror of war weakening a man: the threat of death can even lead a good heart to commit atrocities. After he had completed his service, Adelfo had attained a rank that had earned him more than he could have dreamed of as a child – but it had cost him all faith in the heavens above, for he knew that no sane God would have crafted a world where the horrors of war coexisted with demands for a pure heart.

And yet now Adelfo sat in his house shrine, kneeling like some common pauper before yet another idol. The now-ageing man’s brow furrowed, memories of his time in the soldiery flashing in his mind’s eye, images of leading young boys to their deaths for gold and country. Even after he had left the army, Adelfo had discovered that conflict permeated all layers of Amersil, as those with power fought bitterly with cloak and dagger, greedily seeking to hoard and expand their pile of silver by lashing out at the weak around them. He too had stuck his hands into the muck, becoming embroiled in the game of politics – of whores and assassins and bribes – to keep his newfound position secure, perhaps learning to toss aside what decency he may maintained upon finding that he had something to defend. He had killed those who stood in his way, framed those whom he could not trust, and betrayed those who thought that they could he in order to climb up the ladder of power. He had eventually become oblivious to the deeds which he came to commit, and so it was of little surprise that only the first message of the God Ezin reached his ears.

Opening his mouth to recite the prayer for the umpteenth time, Adelfo found the words caught in his throat, unwilling to spill out in yet another feeble lie of desperation. A deep, heavy sigh rocked his body, his tired eyes looking out from a face donning a neatly trimmed beard of grey. His gaze warily wandered up towards the altar, looking at the lavish offerings – the most expensive that money could buy – with a mixture of self-contempt and ironic incredulity. The man stared at the statuette of the Goddess that the shrine was dedicated to, the figurine an exquisite rendition from a local artist of the great Songstress: Elberes. Shaking his head, the old man laughed at the whole situation, he laughed at his own powerlessness before the Gods.

“Even though I am able to say the words which I have been told may save me, praise your good Grace and beg for your aid in your infinite wisdom, even though I may pretend to have been pious and coat my tongue in admiration and adoration; I doubt that I would even be able to convince myself of their truthfulness.” This altar, this idol, this Deity – it was the sixth of seventh one to which he had pledged absolute loyalty to. He had grovelled, wept, repented to them all – just as the hired priests had instructed him to. And yet, he felt little weight from the gold on his fingers, from the priceless robes on his back, from the past that he had soaked with blood and the misfortune of others. He knew that he would repeat the crimes of his past if he were once again required to, so what good would it do trying to fool the Gods?

“Father, have you completed the rites?” Adelfo’s back immediately shot up straight. He hadn’t heard his son enter, but turned with a smile to the young boy.

“Of course! Worry not Ludovico.” Gesturing for his son to approach, Adelfo had no problem maintaining the visage of confidence and indifference to the great menace over his city – politics had trained him well, after all. “Do you know which God I talk to today?”

Frowning, Ludovico studied the bust of Elberes before shaking his head. Adelfo chuckled, wondering if perhaps there would have been more mercy if he had kept his children unaware of his own apathetic feelings towards the Heavens. “This is Elberes: a just and joyful Goddess. She is the shine in the stars and the creativity in the soul of every artist.” The young boy’s features were confused, undoubtedly masking a question as to how such a Goddess could help their current situation, although he was smart enough not to broach the concern.

Adelfo laughed once more, feeling his own mask beginning to crack as he looked at the face of his son. “Go, run back to your mother Vico – I still have work to attend to.” The child nodded before running back the way he came. Adelfo watched him leave, turning back to the altar with a steeled expression. I haven’t given up yet, for their sake.

The old soldier, tired and weakened by time, was no stranger to death or fear, but never had he felt a determination or a hatred as he did now. Adelfo stared into the eyes of the bust, a defiant fire raging within them.

“You shan’t claim them. Even if I have to fight each of you bastards myself to ensure it.”

And with that, he stood to rejoin his family.

[Drakmah]

[Azezal, Lord of The Pit and embodiment of Corruption]
[The City of Amersil]

Testament of the Ancients

Tempered by the fires of The Pit, he crossed the many planes of his prison in search of a purpose. The floors of his new home expanded far and wide, and he found no trouble occupying his time as he traversed the terrain. With each layer he explored his hate receded, the forerunner finding himself unable to find meaning in his unbridled rage, as it would give him no benefit for as long as he remained in his current state. He began to feel the prison around him adjust to his presence, attuning itself to his magic as if it were taking precautions against him, as if it were alive. With this notion of sentience he searched for conformation, hoping to seek out the heart of such a prison. Traveling to the seventh layer, he searched for an age just hoping to find something. When his hands found nothing he turned to the dirt beneath him, and he dug. Scraping and clawing he ripped his way into the dirt.

“You want to get into the city? What are you crazy?” The guard asked, looking around to his compatriots for support as he mocked the armored traveler.

”Was I not clear? Azezal could be described as having the smallest possible tolerance for mortal infractions, and in this moment that tolerance had run out. He had only been on the plane of Farhiem for a few minutes and already he was going to discipline one. The only thing that stilled his hand was his reluctance to use his power.

“Oh I heard you, I just don’t care. If you want back in you are going to have to…” His sentence was stopped as the gauntleted fist of Azezal slammed into his throat. The air passages of the guard contracting with the light contact and he collapsed to the ground choking, clawing at the skin of neck in an attempt to breathe. They eventually returned to normal and the man stumbled back, laying on the ground in shock. Azezal glanced at the other mortals, all of which had back off from him and were returning their normal positions at the side of the gate. He flexed his hand and stepped through the gate, entering the city which practically screamed his name.

He had never encountered abstract concepts before. In The Pit, people no longer had mortal bodies to gain pleasure for. You couldn’t murder or rape a soul, you couldn’t eat or drink, you couldn’t feel pain or pleasure and so the selfish acts done to further one’s self simply didn’t exist. While Azezal tried his hardest to improve the lives of those he ruled over, just like him they were doomed the prison that was made a millenia ago.

However when he entered the city he could feel his power grow, the concept of the word ‘corruption’ giving him power as the spirits of the mortals believed in such a thing, combining the murdering, cheating, stealing, raping, and all things that plagued the city into the word ‘corruption’. With the amount of these things within the city it only fed his power, the forerunner feeling more alive than he had in a long, long time.

The main streets of the city began to frustrate him, as he grew tired of shoving people aside so that he could move. Turning down one of the alleyways, he made his way deeper into the city. It was a rather large complex and the lack of organization bothered him. His thoughts would have brought him deeper into that subject, however he heard movement behind him, the forerunner turning to look over his shoulder as a man in leather armor looked up in surprise, waving a dagger.

“How did you.. Nevermind.” He said, standing up straight. He walked up to Azezal and pointed the dagger to where he thought his throat would have been had he not been a deity of immense power.

“Hand over everything. I want your money, your clothing, and anything else you have.” His tone was dismissive, and he looked at the forerunner with blind superiority. Azezal simply sighed and turned to walk away, finding 4 other thugs blocking his exit.

“Where do you think you’re going sugarplum?” One of the thugs asked mockingly. “You have some money to hand over before you get to leave, or do you not plan on getting out of this alive?” This mortal held a metal bludgeon in his hand, the man slapping it against his palm as a sort of intimidation. Azezal looked around and gave the closest thing to a smile that this form would allow. Glancing around he turned back to the thief that had approached him initially, walking over to him quickly. The man panicked and stabbed forward, the steel going through Azezal’s robes as he expected, however it found no flesh.

”You seem to the leader of this brigand, and so you will serve my purpose.” He said, even his voice carrying power as the men froze in place. He pressed a gauntleted hand to the forehead of the thief and watched as black scars of power began to form, stretching out from where Azezal was touching him. They opened up all over his body, moving down to his hands and down his legs, until his entire body was covered with them. His pupils turn as black as the abyss that was The Pit, the man then kneeling before him. One by one Azezal repeated the same process with the others, until he had all five of them under his control.

”Go forth into the city and discover for me the fate that has befallen it. Tell me why people flee from its gates, and who has ordered such a devastation.” He knew that this usage of power might have blown his cover, but it had been relatively small despite the likely eye of someone over the happenings of the city. He understood his enemies were not blind, and might attempt to stop him. He hoped, however, that they would not understand the magnitude of the threat, and any attempts would be underwhelming compared to his power.

He sent his new servants out to gather information for him, the transformation wiping them of the their previous memories. Now that he had eyes and ears he needed to see for himself the extent of which the gods controlled this city. Making his way through the alleys, he continued to gain servants as several different groups attempted to mug him. Eventually word got around that someone was going through the alleys and doing something to everyone he found and from then on he found no trouble, however he would likely be punished for allowing someone to escape with the information. While he was indeed a higher entity, he was not very good at being unseen, as his high profile personality leaked out as he traveled. Eventually, after questioning someone for directions to the center of town, which he was actually somewhat ashamed of, he found his way to the center of the town. As soon as he made it, one of his many servants appeared at his side, his mind containing the information that Azezal needed.

“Not only hours before you arrived, a white light appeared above the city. They spoke of Ezin’s anger at their corruption and how within 7 days the city would be destroyed.”

”Ezin would take those he murdered on that day and leave them to me, tossing them away like they were nothing.” Azezal growled, looking up to the city center as he drew his blade. ”Lets see what he has to say to this.”

It was at this moment he abandoned all thoughts of stealth, choosing to save these people rather than stay silent as gods murdered these mortals for no other reason than that they displeased them. He began to gather the power that coursed through the city, the lying, cheating, murdering, and all forms of corruption brought to the singularity he created. His body began to glow as people around him fled, the bodies of his servants falling as he drew the power from them. Coursing through his body in the path that his heart took it, he then forced it into his gauntlet and then into his sword, taking the large weapon and stabbing it down into the dirt.

Now with a connection to the ground, his energy flooded into it as the same black cracks of power that had formed on the bodies of those he took as his servants formed in the earth. They stretched and grew as he poured more and more energy in, until they reached the cities limits. While it may have seemed so, the black lines never actually broke the dirt, and so the structural integrity of the city remained the same, it only signifying his control over the land.

“I defy your judgement Ezin, as i have for a millenia.’ He said aloud, his sigil painted in the center of the city as it coursed with his blackened power. ’And you will be the first to feel my wrath.”

[New Communist and Socialist Unions]

Aishmael-Lich, Shatterlands

'Is the Fallen Horde ready Hordelord Azai-Fthan?' Aishmael inquired, 'Yes, my god Aismael, all Fel hordes are prepared for war,' replied Azai-Fthan, 'We are simply awaiting the opening of the portal.', 'Good Fel you,' Aismael said with a smirk, 'You go lead the hordes, I shall prepare the portal, I'll go lead the hordes with you later.'. Aishmael then whispered, 'Curse you Fe, Curse you for siring me, then declaring me a bastard, curse you...', Aishmael then spoke, 'My horde! For far too long, Fe has sealed us here! But, that bastard of a God has gone, has moved on, this means, we are no longer under Fe's tyranny! We are now freed! So, rejoice my horde! But, we must conquer, this world on the other side of the portal, so, I say to you my Fel, shall you conquer for me? Shall you march great distances? Shall you raid and pillage?!?!' 'Yes great lord Aishmael Lich!' shouted the Fel Horde, 'Then we have not a moment to lose,' Aishmael said, 'My hordes! Go! Destroy! Raid and Pillage!', the horde, hearing this, immediately rushed at the portal, entering the Fel Lands like a tsunami. 'For the Horde!' screamed the Fel, as they started to slaughter the followers of this so called 'god of slaughter', the butchers followers being butchered, how ironic, in some sort...

[Icthyia]

The Divine Butcher's Ascendance

"No! No! Let us go! We will do anything! We will follow you, we will fight for you! Just anything but the sacrifice, please Gods above!"

A vast range of countries and villages lay between the now ruined Firstholm, and the Narwood. A huge, lengthy forest filled with life of every kind. This land betwixt the two landmarks was filled with unassuming peasants; innocent, peaceful folk who eked out a meager, though satisfactory, existence.

All this changed with the fall of Firstholm. The horde of Aratrax, now with no other clear place to sack, began rampaging towards the Narwood. Once under the vassalage of the King of Firstholm, these peasants were now defenseless, the wealthy and wise fleeing from the coming slaughter.

The poor folk however had no escape, most remaining on their farms under the vain hope they would be spared or ignored. This sad decision was promptly ignored, as the horde approached Narwood, burning and killing as they went. Beyond just simple murder, however, Aratrax had a unique plan in mind.

His men began rounding u families, promising themselves salvation if they converted to Xitar's worship. Those who resisted were slaughtered, but most complied out of fear, as many of the lower classes due under such threats by armed men.

They were brought to a large mound, surrounded by a wooden wall. Thousands were corralled in, and the gate behind them locked. This was once a orteress of a nearby garrison, now reclaimed by Aratrax's foul horde.

As the last innocent was forced in, drums began playing and the soldiers began singing dark hymns of praise and worship, sending even the most atheist among them into a supernatural state of fear. These were not just words, but physical manifestations of the afterlife; a dark one, one of extreme, unending pain and misery. These individuals, having lived such simple lives, were flashed in their mind with images of this afterlife. Many screamed, some died on the spot, but most were paralyzed from the visions, horrified by such unbelievable truths.

Aratrax, meanwhile, stood in his beastly form atop the mound, looking on the crowd beneath him. As the peasants lay paralyzed, he began to scream his own prayers.

"Oh, oh, glorious Xitar! I offer you these souls, just as I have those in Firstholm, and the lands before, and the lands soon to come! Grant me ascendance, make me a demigod, make me the sword with which you will disembowel this world! Use the souls of these pathetic weaklings to transform me, please!"

With his request done, he opened the fleshy tome which carried the forbidden knowledge of Xitar's summonings and prayers, and began to recite it.

As he did so, the chant increased in volume, as did the drums. The lands within the walls began to warp, and transform, into a portal towards Xitar's realm. Imp's and demos began to appear, dragging the peasants into Xitar's torturous hell. As they did so, the flesh and muscle was slowly ripped off from the transference, casting aside their physical bodies so their souls could be eternally damned.

Aratrax himself began uncontrollably shaking, his already perverted flesh mutating further, his skin and armor fusing into one sickening piece of arcane distortion. His bones exposed themselves, interlocking with the armor to create an impenetrable cage. His soul became inextricably bound with Xitar, forever ending any chance of redemption of light.

The souls of the innocent continued to plunge into a fate they did not deserve; but nevertheless received. Their spiritual energies feeding Aratrax's ascendance. As the last soul slipped into an eternity of torture, Aratrax's apotheosis was complete, and a new demigod was born.

[New Communist and Socialist Unions]

Aishmael-Lich, The Fel Lands

Aishmael-Lich was overseeing the base construction site in the Fel Lands with his fellow Hordelords, the followers of the slaughter god were being crammed into steel cages that were heated to the limit, and they were shipped to the Shatterlands for torture and eventual fealty. 'Hordelords Azai-Fthan, Ishtar, Terrae, Qara-Batauh, and Selim-Kahn' Aishmael spoke, 'I shall split the hordes in six, I will have one, and each one of you will have your own horde as well.' 'Thank you, Lord Aishmael-Lich.' they all replied. 'I shall name you Hordelords of the Qasim, Khagatahi, Sepouknoai, Qarakhnid, and Seluk Hordes.' appointed Aishmael.