Politics of the Divine - IC

[The Assorted Saharan Outposts]

Irekily nods and wrapped and arm around her, patting her on the back. "Trust me, I can tell it's not all sunshine and rainbows down here." He said. "I admire you for that. You spend everyday down here with the damned. It can't be easy, and you suffer through a lot. Don't get much of a thanks though, do you? Everyone tries to avoid death."

That offer had interested him more than it probably should, and honestly, how could he say no to a crying lady? Honestly, this did remind him of one of the first few deals he made. Make a woman happy for something rather simple, but this didn't seem as simple. "You drive a hard bargain, I'll have you know." He said before shrugging. "I can give it a shot if you think we can pull it off." Why not? What did he really have to lose? They wouldn't just get rid of the guide of the damned. No one else would take that role.

[Senkaku]

The Lamp and the Golden Door: Part One

---

Keli of the Thousand Lakes

---

Keli's lamps glowed, yet despite the late hour it seemed as though the city was still in one of its long, hazy twilights, the sky still glowing from Inzi's internal tribulations. It was cold, too, as if it were the most frigid of winter nights- for Keli was a warm city, and rarely did it get so cold. There would be bodies in the morning, street urchins with the life leached out of them by the cold.The City of Lights still bustled, though, even in the wee hours under such ominous portents, as people went about their business across the thousands of bridges and little lakes and canals that defined Chak's greatest city. Keli had been raised out of the swamp by rice farmers and fishermen, who had scrabbled and labored for generations to construct its delicate bridges and pinnacles, its artificial islands and vast main canals and the huge breakwater and port on Lake Chansai, to the east.

Chak looked out over his greatest city from the sky-lamp he was reclining on. It was not the one he so often relaxed upon in Heaven- that one would have seared the retinas of mortal men with its brightness. This was simply one of the lamps that floated above Keli, released from some temple as an act of devotion. Other ones like it, made of silk and bamboo rather than papyrus, were attached by strings all around the city's thousands of bridges.
Beneath him, the Bridge of the White Hummingbird Princess was beginning to stir a little more. As the wee hours continued to drag onwards towards morning, some merchants were returning to their stalls along the wide main road, busily setting up shop so they could be ready for the early rush of people heading off to work. Chak particularly liked this bridge- he had helped the architects and engineers and workers who had designed and built it achieve its airy, symmetrical, repeating arches, watching with pride as they polished its marble facing to a mirror sheen. Now it was a constant site of admirably hard work- small-time merchants hustling to get ahead, workers grabbing a few fish cakes as they rushed off to their jobs.

To Chak, the Bridge of the White Hummingbird Princess was a reminder, that despite the decadence that gnawed at the universe and even the Queen of Cities, that all was not lost- and so long as people would strive to better themselves, all would never be lost.

---

That said, it was an ill hour indeed in Heaven. The King had withdrawn to the Sun, while Chak knew little and less of Inzi's current condition besides that it was not good. Since he had not responded to the King's summons, the Nameless One only knew what was going on now in his absence- probably the vultures were already circling the throne.
Chak allowed his lantern to drift higher, up into the soft, billowing clouds that rose in pillars over the city and floating out over Lake Chansai's smooth blue-green surface. There can only be one end result from all of this, and that is suffering for these people who have worked so hard. The cities of the Chakxi are industrious and virtuous on the whole, even if they share the same flaws that all men have, even if they indulge themselves in their wealth- they have earned it. I cannot permit chaos to allow them to suffer in the cold and darkness of an uncaring and lazy king. Nor shall I allow our politics and bickering to plunge them into further chaos.

---

The First Councillor of Keli awoke, breathing hard, from a dream he did not remember. There was the same dim light filtering in through the fabric window shades, and the room was chilly despite the braziers he'd had placed in it, which now burned low.
A voice made him jump.
"First Councillor Kiyaad." The room was suddenly filled with light as a pair of floating lanterns pushed through the curtains, and Kiyaad Seokhai suddenly saw a figure at the end of his bed. It was a boy, a street urchin, dressed in a loincloth, with a glittering silver sickle in one hand and a nacre charm gleaming at his throat.
Seokhai bowed as deeply as he could while sitting up in bed, kissing his own mother-of-pearl charm. There can only be one explanation for this, he thought as another pair of lanterns came in through the window.
"You and the Grand Council have doubtless heard of the chaos gripping the Heavens, doubtless seen and felt its effects. It is time to move to protect your people from them. Gather your engineers on the morrow- dark times are ahead, and Keli can only protect herself if she prepares."
"Sweat saves blood," Seokhai murmured.
"Indeed. I do not wish to see the Thousand Lakes filled with the rubble of Keli's bridges. The city's engineers even now, in their dreams, are finding inspiration for an artifice that can defend the lands of Kessen from the ficklety of the divine. Sleep well, First Councillor. You have much labor ahead of you, and shirking now may mean death and ruin for thousands."
A breeze suddenly puffed on the curtains, sending chilly air wafting in, and suddenly the lanterns vanished, the room went pitch black, and Seokhai felt sleepier than he ever had in his life...

---

Chak visited all his cities that night, councilling the Chakxi and feeding inspiration to the cities' artificers and architects and engineers. It would not stand for his followers to be endangered by the foolish actions of others- he would help them defend themselves from the darkness that was coming.
Once those who embrace me are secure, I will have to do something for even those who do not- and that will require other action on other fronts.
That can wait, for now. The road to absolute power will be a slow one, if you choose to walk it.

Chak yawned, listening for the prayers being made to him.
Back to Keli. I think I shall relax for a while.
With that, he ordered his lantern up, soaring back from Basreh south, towards the little temple that sat at the east end of the Bridge of the Hummingbird Princess- a small affair made of brick, empty save for a few Chakxi monks in meditation alcoves where they were busy making nacre charms.
Chak sat in the temple's darkened inner sanctum, where only a few candles burned, and buried himself in shadow, waiting and listening.

---

POST SUMMARY:
-Engineers in Chak's cities are working on ideas to both protect their cities from colder temperatures and fickle weather and the like, and also from enemy armies and major natural disasters.

[Kisinger]

"We can pull off anything... Well, us and a few of my friends can..." She smiled as she sniffled and wiped away the tears. "I'll hold you to this.... But, if we truly are to succeed, we need more support... And not those who are chaotic, such as Cultro." She embraced him again.

"I would marry you again, except I doubt it would last any longer than last time." She let go of him and smiled again. "Hell wasn't so bad with you. Just visit me sometime. I'd enjoy." She smiled as she looked at the Soul behind me as it screamed louder and louder. "You better get going... We both better... See you soon hopefully..." She slowly walked away until she eventually disappeared reappearing back in her manor at the balcony watching him as the screams never stopped.

[The Assorted Saharan Outposts]

Irekily nods before looking at the soul he had taken to Hell. "Enjoy your stay, and be nice to the lady, will you?" He asked, looking at the goddess of Hell's manor. "The girl has suffered through this for a long time now, we both have." With that said he waved his pale white hand towards the manor in a goodbye before walking off.

"Shame it didn't work out the first time. She's a lovely girl." He said to himself as he exited Hell, now trying to see if there were other funerals he had to visit. There probably was. There almost always was. He always had to go back and forth through Peragon to get damned souls and send them to hell. Do the process over and over again, and he never really gets noticed for it. Some recognition would certainly be nice...

[Jazz Commies and Sexy Astrophysicists]

Tesh felt a great sort of tugging, as if a physical force was pulling him toward the crossroads of heaven. He had been spending much time in the mortal realm, planning and observing. The force which had given him power, the freedom cries of slaves, seemed to be louder than ever. They whispered it in their dreams in the night, they spoke it under their breath as they labored in the heat of the day. Every slave that dreamed of freedom, and every cry that slaves cry out is heard by him, and his mind is busy. Recently, he'd spent his time in the mortal world exploring in his physical form. He was invisible: the visage of an elderly blind man meant that few cared to notice him. He watched, only reaching out to a few, picking small handfuls of slaves to tell of his nature and his plans. They would be free. His legend spread like wildfire among their ranks,

But this summons of sorts distracted him. He went, as did all of the others who felt it, and listened to He Who Brings Light. He listened as the God placed himself into exile, turning away from the heavens and resigning himself to his own realm within the sun, where God nor mortal could reach him. Tesh felt somewhat unsettled by the change in order, but also encouraged. With the head of the Gods away, the only oversight affecting him would be that of whatever nosy God might follow him. Now, he decided, was the time to act.

He left the presences of the other Gods to his own domain. Achaezel was his plane; his domain. It exemplified everything he stood for and everything that gave him power. Wisps floated near one another, colored with rich blues and reds and purples, sparking and glowing as they interacted. Tesh flew across the open sky of his realm; he did his best thinking as he moved. He tempered himself, caring little for the luxuries and vices many of the other Gods took part in. After some time in contemplation, he made his move.

Itha'avesta (OOC: Fair warning, there's some semi-graphic things here
Farr fussed at the cumbersome jewelry around her neck. Its sparkling chains were ornately decorated, and embossed with all sorts of jewels. It weighed heavily on her neck, and she had found it difficult to find her balance at first. She had since found it again, but now she was more concerned with the song she would soon be singing. Her master had invited many of his friends, and she was to entertain them now that they had finished their afternoon meals. She had sung for him many times before after his meals in the waning hours of the day, but as she stepped out to meet her audience, she found that they numbered more than a dozen. Most of them seemed disinterested, but Master kept a keen eye on her. She nervously took position in front of them and began to sing. She tried not to eye her audience for too long, but she saw many of them turn their attentions to her. She had heard many describe her voice as "captivating", but she only knew that it earned her bread and a place to sleep. She gently waved her arms, matching the rhythms of her song, and those of the instruments being played behind her. Minutes passed, and her song came to an end. Her master and his friends did not clap, of course, but she could tell that they were impressed. She walked into the back room to remove the cumbersome medallions around her neck. As the last of them ceased to burden her, she heard footsteps behind her. She quickly turned to see.

"That was very good, my pet," he told her, stepping closer to her. He brushed a loose strand of hair from her face, caressing her as his hand lingered. "Very good." Farr felt unsettled once more. Master had scarcely ever taken notice of her in this way. "Thank you, Master," she told him, bowing her head in reverence. "Enough of that, now," he told her, tilting her head back up. "Now is time for another form of entertainment." He leaned his head in to kiss her, but she backed away. A twinge of frustration occupied his face for a moment, before a sigh straightened it back out. "Now, now, my pet," he told her in a seething voice. "You must do as I command."

Farr found herself on the floor, he tunic torn as she awoke. It wasn't quite sleep that she found herself emerging from; it was something much more sinister. She heard something stirring behind her, and she twisted to see. She felt a searing pain as she did, and quickly gave it up. She heard footsteps as the figure stepped to face her front. "You weren't half bad, my pet," he told her. "I expect Lynd will wish to go next. Prepare yourself." As he walked out of the room, she began to erupt into a dull sob. Just as she could no longer hear his steps, she heard another come through the doorway. "Please," she begged softly. Again the footsteps plodded to her field of vision.

Who she saw, however, was not any of her Master's associates. Instead, it was an old man, wearing worn purple robes, with a plain wooden walking stick steadying him. With his other hand, he reached down. She moved her own hand to meet his, but the blinding white pain of hers again struck. The man moved his hand, this time touching her midsection. "Rise," he spoke, not as a command, but more of a gentle whisper. Again she moved, but this time, the pain was absent. Taking his hand, she rose to her feet. "Who are you?" she asked of him, wondering who this man was. He examined her up and down, seemingly focused on the spot of her midsection where he had touched. "Do you want to be free?" he asked. "Excuse me?" she replied, taken aback by the abruptness of the question. "Do you want to be free?" he asked of her patiently again. "Do you wish to live, breath, and die a free person? Do you wish to achieve revenge on those who have injured you so?" The old man's question was baffling. She had lived her whole life in fear, and he proposed it was as easy as "not wanting" to be a slave? "Of course," she spoke, with a voice more possessed of courage than any she had used in some time.

"I shall make a great nation of you," the old man told her. "From you, all slaves will find freedom, and justice. But you must hurry. They will not be long." He gestured toward the door. "I will render unto you a sign, you must only listen." He took his staff and carved a glyph into the floor. "Know me by this sign," he added, "and use no other weapon than this. Do this an it shall be as I have said." He handed the staff to her, now. "Hurry," he told her again. She was awestruck. Normally, she would dismiss him as a madman. However, something in his eyes made her feel as if he were telling her the truth. "Who are you?" she inquired. "I am the whisper that every unrighteous man fears," he told her. "In a world where man has grown comfortable and complacent in his sin, I will ensure that the fallacy that Justice and Mercy are no longer considered equals. I am Tesh, and I will remake this world anew if it means tearing its foundation asunder." Wordlessly, she turned and ran through the door, and into the night.

[Sloycia]

Ydes

---

Deep within a forgotten recess of Heaven, a barren and unremarkable square of divine energy, laid the ancient creature known as Ydes. Forgotten by most of the younger gods, and only remembered by the older gods, he had dwelled only within the mortal realm, ignoring the machinations, plots, and perversions that had gripped heaven in his absence. The disorder and chaos resultant of the younger God's hedonism had fueled him greatly, as it had his followers.

The truth was, Ydes had been around longer than almost any of the younger Gods, exceeded in age only by a few, and the Quadruplets. Ever since creation had begun, Ydes had existed, living on the periphery of existence like a shroud, hiding the horizon and slowly encroaching on the forgotten realms. As the Gods grew bored of their creations, and begun anew elsewhere, Ydes approached, feeding of the energy released as decay sets in. Mortals, often born in backwards, rural areas, far from the attention of their Gods, found only one patron. The vast, uncountable hordes of peasants, ignored by society, their Gods, and their rulers, realized that any attempt in improving their lives was futile. Death, and ignominious afterlife were all that awaited them. Hunger, fatigue, and fear made the simpe pleasures of life dull, and as they lacked the civilized pursuits of the city, they had nowhere to turn.

Ydes provided them with a release, a bliss. The pain and suffering of their lives ended, and monotonous joy took over their lives. Their houses rotted, their fields grew barren, as they sat in their homes and let the grass grow. Yet they did not die, nor did they weaken - they were in a perpetual state of rest. A stasis given by Ydes to his followers that deprived them of any sensation but relief, giving them an end to their pointless, unjust life, and the poor cards they were dealt in life.

The most devastating aspect of his reach came as more an more followers went into this idle delusion. Crops weren't harvested, and the basis of society, agriculture, collapsed. While often ignored as quiet, pesky annoyance - the corruption of Ydes could prove devastating.

Within Heaven, he rotted alone in his hole, one devoid of the sensations the other Gods filled themselves with. Despite this, he occasionally emerged, as even his attention could be drawn by something of remarkable importance.

Now, was one of those times.

The Sun God had departed to his realm, leaving the throne vacant, as the younger Gods bickered and argued on who would be most fit to replace him. Ydes, slowly walking among the crowds of completely irrelevant Gods with pathetic powers, avoided attention. Moments after the Sun God had departed, the world started feeling it's effects, and Inzi as well set the mortal horizon on fire, for reasons unknown. The power of Balance was fading, and the uptick of creation was grinding to a halt.

Ydes knew now was the time to began feeding of the world once more.

[The Assorted Saharan Outposts]

Feeling that there was another funeral somewhere, Irekily had left the mortal body he was now possessing and went to go find one nearby. Luckily, his cult members get to places pretty quickly. He was able to get to the area the funeral would be held and looked around. Oh, yeah, he knew how this one died. It was part of the domain. He gained he deceased's memories and now he knew how they died. He sighed. This one was a victim of one of Cultro's followers. Must have been very violent. He had to be the bearer of bad news. Perfect.

He approached the deceased's family after he had scouted them out in the ground. Before they could ask questions, he opened his hand, Palm up. One orb for each family member present appeared in his hands. The orbs went towards each family members and disappeared once contact was made. The ones that were already crying cried even more, and the ones that weren't crying started to cry as they gained all the memories of the deceased.

With another sigh, Irekily walked over to the coffin and left a bone next to it. The spirit appeared next to the coffin and Irekily shook his head. "Sorry you had to go the way you did." He said. "You should have died from old age, but that wasn't the case, it seemed..."

[Alouite]

Victorius, God of War, Glory and Victory
The Divine Hall

---

Victorius returned from watching over Reme and now in heaven caught the beginning of Cultro's speech. Victorius held back laughter throughout Cultro's declaration of being the new King of Gods. He also was relatively ticked off when Cultro began speaking ill of other gods as though he was superior to them. Victorius followed Cultro outside with a smile on his face. He was still amused by Cultro's declaration of monarch status among the gods and his old personality from his birth as god of conflict was tingling as he heard the man claim that he wanted gods to die. He manifested himself in his warrior form and looked at Cultro with a smirk. "King of Gods eh? What were you thinking. There is no way you really thought that would gain traction among the others there is there? Come on, tell me what you're thinking you could stand to gain from making the gods aware that you want to dominate us?"

[The 7th Order]

After thinking on the Kings departure he came to a shaky conclusion. So what? History has a pattern. There'd be a great structure or society and then one crack in its armor causes it to collapse. This was just heaven fitting the pattern. Why should he care? Heaven never agreed with him anyway. Neither did the annoying things that lived here. I mean they came up with gender! Quite a useless concept. Wearily opening one of the hundreds of eyes on his body he surveyed his cosy little bubble. His chosen were everywhere. Playing flutes and beating on drums theirs was a daemonic composition. He screeched with twisted pleasure. Hunger. That thought appeared in his mind as sudden as lightening falls from the heavens. Fear was his sustenance and he thirsted for it. Mindlessly he left the bubble and found himself drifting towards a large concentration of fear.

Every time he came to hell he always expects it to be frozen. Why? He has no idea. The idea of a cold perpetual darkness appeals to him. The fear in hell is strange. It's like the difference between wine and whiskey. Of course he can't really tell which is which. Floating over the damned his many tentacles brushed down as he bathed in their fear. Delicious.

[Woodstovia]

Culro was hiding in his palace, shaking in a corner. He shouldn't have done that... He had failed in spectacular fashion. He needed to get away, he needed some form of escape. Thankfully he had one planned, one of his cultists had slaughtered a new recruit's mother in an amazingly creative fashion, it was a form of initiation; if he could fully detach himself from death he would be a better murderer, he had to remove all qualms about killing. And as the last part of his initiation he was attending the funeral forced to watch silently as he saw the light from a being he loved dearly fade out. Cultro was a proud father-figure to his follower and so he could shield a recruit from a little pain and also distract himself by possessing them and observing the funeral.

As he watched however he felt a great power looming, his head snapped to the left and his piercing red eyes fixated on Irekily. Where was that fool when he had tried becoming king? Cultro gave him plenty of work, made his life interesting. Without him all he'd have would be boring memories of people falling off horses and dying. It was because of Cultro that his life had any notion of excitement and he had abandoned him in his hour of greatest need! Cultro twitched his hand and felt for a knife or weapon. He found one and began to approach. He would kill him, he would see his stupid blood gushing out of...

Cultro snapped back to his palace, a great warrior looming above him; menacingly. "Uh... Hello Victorius." Cultro stammered, obviously scared of the god of war. "Well... I'm one of the smarter gods really... And uh so many gain their powers from murder, such as yourself. And I'm... Older than you so... I thought you might..." Cultro glanced around, looking for something to fight him with.

[The Assorted Saharan Outposts]

Irekily was much more polite to this spirit than the last one. They had suffered more, it seemed. They turned around before gesturing them to follow. "I'll keep you around for a while. I have more funerals to attend to. Maybe you can watch and see how a professional does his work." He chuckled. It was a small joke, maybe to just lighten up the mood a bit, though the spirit didn't seem to laugh. He sighed. "Right, to soon for jokes. Once again, sorry one of Cultro's followers got to you. He may keep me employed at times, but he's a troublemaker."

The spirit only nodded in agreement. Irekily was about to leave, but the spirit stopped him. He turned back and looked at them. "What? You want to stay for your own funeral?" He asked, and the spirit nodded. He sighed and shrugged. "An odd request, but I'll go through with it." He said before looking back to the coffin, hands in his pockets.

[Naymor]

"Now my brethren we shouldn't panic." Cultro said as nobody panicked "For you see I will graciously take up the mantle of king of the gods. Murder of course is the most natural of all domains. It happens to every creature, everything needs to kill to survive. And half of you wouldn't even have power f murders didn't happen. Imagine if there were no murderers to go to hell!" Cultro pointed out. "And I'm sure many of you know how kind and valuable of a friend I am." he grinned.

The words of Cultro echoed through the mind of Midian, a shiver running down his spine at the very thought of Cultro being made their new king. This was the deity who's followers, those who were mage's at least, twisted magic, creating the Killing Curse. He and his followers were cruel, terrible beings, the mere suggestion of them ruling was enough to bring Midian from the mortal plane and into the politics of the divine, the drama of his brothers and sisters. Midian decided that he would throw his own name into the bid for King of the Gods, if only to keep the title away from Cultro.

Midian ascended to heaven, taking on his true form, his wings spreading out behind him as though they were the wings of an angel. His golden skin shimmered as he looked about, trying to find someone who could help him. It was always good to have some friends, especially in situations like this, and Midian truly needed to find some quickly. Looking around, he noticed Tesh, the great dragon that he was, and recalled his domains. Midian was certain that he could convince him to help him challenge Cultro for the crown.

The God of Sorcery and Magic followed the deity as he traveled to his personal realm. Midian walked around, hunting for the god before finally calling out.

"Tesh! Tesh, are you here?" he called, his voice echoing through the realm.

[Kisinger]

Floating over the damned his many tentacles brushed down as he bathed in their fear. Delicious.

Here appeared the God of Fear, Tor'Baalos, a horrid thing to look at and one drunk off of fear. She tended to keep far from him but, today she was in a good mood, she approached him with a blank expression on her face, she neared him and waved towards him hoping to catch his attention. Regardless she began moving the Souls away from the God, preventing him from getting too heavily influenced by the fear that Hell was always abound in.

[Jazz Commies and Sexy Astrophysicists]

"Now my brethren we shouldn't panic." Cultro said as nobody panicked "For you see I will graciously take up the mantle of king of the gods. Murder of course is the most natural of all domains. It happens to every creature, everything needs to kill to survive. And half of you wouldn't even have power f murders didn't happen. Imagine if there were no murderers to go to hell!" Cultro pointed out. "And I'm sure many of you know how kind and valuable of a friend I am." he grinned.

The words of Cultro echoed through the mind of Midian, a shiver running down his spine at the very thought of Cultro being made their new king. This was the deity who's followers, those who were mage's at least, twisted magic, creating the Killing Curse. He and his followers were cruel, terrible beings, the mere suggestion of them ruling was enough to bring Midian from the mortal plane and into the politics of the divine, the drama of his brothers and sisters. Midian decided that he would throw his own name into the bid for King of the Gods, if only to keep the title away from Cultro.

Midian ascended to heaven, taking on his true form, his wings spreading out behind him as though they were the wings of an angel. His golden skin shimmered as he looked about, trying to find someone who could help him. It was always good to have some friends, especially in situations like this, and Midian truly needed to find some quickly. Looking around, he noticed Tesh, the great dragon that he was, and recalled his domains. Midian was certain that he could convince him to help him challenge Cultro for the crown.

The God of Sorcery and Magic followed the deity as he traveled to his personal realm. Midian walked around, hunting for the god before finally calling out.

"Tesh! Tesh, are you here?" he called, his voice echoing through the realm.

Tesh landed near Midian, folding his great leathery wings behind his body as he landed. He picked at his teeth with his claws, as if he were trying to get rid of something. "The mortal realm always leaves a terrible taste in my mouth," he said, not particularly to anyone. "It tastes of corruption. And raspberries. I despise raspberries." He turned to Midian. "Great Sorcerer, what service might I be able to impart unto you?"

[The 7th Order]

The taste was getting faint. As he slowly awoke from his drunken state all of his unnatural eyes turned toward daers. Again with that gender. He couldn't really tell the difference. They all blurred together. Turning his mountain of a body towards her all of his mouths let loose a banshee like noise. Only gods would ever realise it was him talking. "Greetings warden of the damned and keeper of food." Keeping his largest eye targeted on her the others searched for more damned like an eagle looking for a rabbit.

[Alouite]

Victorius took off his helmet and nodded acknowledging what Cultro had just said. He also mentally prepared to grab for his saber if needed, Cultro wasn't the most friendly god after a speech like this. He calmly replied "It was bold, I'll give you that. And I'm well aware of your role in this realm and the realm of mortals. In a way I couldn't exist in my current form if you hadn't come into existence, you helped me become more powerful and in a way are older than me. Thanks to murder, I am no longer the god of conflict but the god of war. However, your domain has faded as of late. You're losing a battle with morality, and yet that morality is making me stronger. You see, I can't have the domains of Glory which is seen after and during battle, nor Victory which is seen at the end of it, if people kill uncontrollably these moral concepts of winning are muddied by the negativity surrounding endless murder. From this I am a growing god, one who warriors from all nations pray to before battle. But calm yourself, I have no true quarrel with you. And without war your followers would be limited in the scale of their destruction, so I don't fear you either. I just thought it was a leap of faith, don't you realize that you've made yourself a target of many of the gods, there's Rhonos who is probably the most powerful god as of this moment. There is Inzi who will demand balance and likely wants to be the king of us to balance our power. Ratius will likely despise the idea of the god of murder heading a kingdom that oversees the mortal realm. Then there's Tesh, who'd hate you leading us. The list goes on. All I mean to say is a friendly watch you back. But I will say this. You are important, very much so, however, you are no king of gods." With that Victorius faded into his divine form before seemingly dissipating.

[Naymor]

"Ah, Tesh, it's been too long," he began, "I wish there were time for pleasantries, but it seems we must save that for later. I'm sure you have heard of Cultro's bid for the now vacant crown, as well as his ultimate failure at it. I have personally never been one to mingle in the politics of our brethren, but this turn of events has caused my mind to wander. It has played out many scenarios with Cultro, or one of the many other darker gods, given the crown and title, and none of these visions end well. What the our brothers and sisters need is a leader who truly wants nothing more than to help the mortals and to keep the power of the gods balanced, so the four who shall not be named do not return.

Tesh, my spheres of influence put me in the perfect position for this task, allowing me to be fully connected to both the divine and mortal, the magic and normal, all walks of life. I have decided to do something I goes against my very code and nature, my friend. I am going to attempt to gain the crown. I have come to you in hopes of gaining your support, unless of course, you wish to take the crown. In which case I will fully support you."

[Woodstovia]

Cultro cowered as Victorius spoke and sighed in relief as he disappeared. Victorius should have more respect... Cultro had essentialy birthed him and yet he still believed he was superior. Cultro clamped his teeth together, he didn't need some overgrown, arrogant, pompous child of his to tell him he was important, he knew that already. Anyway he thought, back to the mortals.

The mortal had burst out into tears, watching his mother's coffin sink into the dirt. QUIT WHINING Cultro growled internally as he dived at the god of bones, knife in hand; stabbing frantically.

[Jazz Commies and Sexy Astrophysicists]

"Ah, Tesh, it's been too long," he began, "I wish there were time for pleasantries, but it seems we must save that for later. I'm sure you have heard of Cultro's bid for the now vacant crown, as well as his ultimate failure at it. I have personally never been one to mingle in the politics of our brethren, but this turn of events has caused my mind to wander. It has played out many scenarios with Cultro, or one of the many other darker gods, given the crown and title, and none of these visions end well. What the our brothers and sisters need is a leader who truly wants nothing more than to help the mortals and to keep the power of the gods balanced, so the four who shall not be named do not return.

Tesh, my spheres of influence put me in the perfect position for this task, allowing me to be fully connected to both the divine and mortal, the magic and normal, all walks of life. I have decided to do something I goes against my very code and nature, my friend. I am going to attempt to gain the crown. I have come to you in hopes of gaining your support, unless of course, you wish to take the crown. In which case I will fully support you."

"I have no interest in ruling the heavens," Tesh replied dismissively, waving his left claw. "But you are not like so many others, weakened by our divine natures. I will assist with your bid for leadership, but you must assist me in my endeavors as well." He moved his claw again and began tapping on his left horn, as he often did while thinking. "The very forces that have created me bind me to my mission; I know no other but it. If you and those who revere you swear to help the enslaved and oppressed of the mortal plane, then you have my assistance."

[Kisinger]

"Hail, Tor-Baalos, The Insane One, I wish to make a deal with you." She shuddered as he spoke and further as the hideous thing kept looking for subsistence for the mass of terror. She feared that he would turn the Damned more restless than usual, a prospect she wasn't eager to experience. "If you help me for the bid to the throne of Gods, I can promise you anything you desire that's within my Godly bounds."

[Naymor]

"Ah, Tesh, it's been too long," he began, "I wish there were time for pleasantries, but it seems we must save that for later. I'm sure you have heard of Cultro's bid for the now vacant crown, as well as his ultimate failure at it. I have personally never been one to mingle in the politics of our brethren, but this turn of events has caused my mind to wander. It has played out many scenarios with Cultro, or one of the many other darker gods, given the crown and title, and none of these visions end well. What the our brothers and sisters need is a leader who truly wants nothing more than to help the mortals and to keep the power of the gods balanced, so the four who shall not be named do not return.

Tesh, my spheres of influence put me in the perfect position for this task, allowing me to be fully connected to both the divine and mortal, the magic and normal, all walks of life. I have decided to do something I goes against my very code and nature, my friend. I am going to attempt to gain the crown. I have come to you in hopes of gaining your support, unless of course, you wish to take the crown. In which case I will fully support you."

"I have no interest in ruling the heavens," Tesh replied dismissively, waving his left claw. "But you are not like so many others, weakened by our divine natures. I will assist with your bid for leadership, but you must assist me in my endeavors as well." He moved his claw again and began tapping on his left horn, as he often did while thinking. "The very forces that have created me bind me to my mission; I know no other but it. If you and those who revere you swear to help the enslaved and oppressed of the mortal plane, then you have my assistance."

"That is a worthy cause, and one I shall be happy to assist in." Midian replied, his eyes glowing briefly before continuing, "More of those enslaved shall be born wizards and sorcerer's, and my Mage's shall seek them out, just as they do to all those who are born wizards and sorcerer's. Those who are enslaved shall be taught the ways of magic, and be assisted in helping their friends and families escape bondage. You are well respected among the gods, and your support means much to me. I look forward to working alongside you more often, and I will certainly do all I can to help those who are enslaved and oppressed."

Midian bowed his head slightly, thanking Tesh in a way that many of the humans, especially those who followed him, thanked others.

[The 7th Order]

A political alliance of sorts hm? He hasn't been involved in politics for centuries. Why not? Of course if they were to be in a alliance of sorts he took a form he thought she might like. Suddenly his massive body collapsed on itself and was covered with a thin coat of greenish flesh. It looked like her form and her lovers form (forgot his name) grotesquely fused together. Almost as if he has no awareness of personal space he leaned in and said "Agreed" in a disturbing mockery of their voices

[The Assorted Saharan Outposts]

Cultro cowered as Victorius spoke and sighed in relief as he disappeared. Victorius should have more respect... Cultro had essentialy birthed him and yet he still believed he was superior. Cultro clamped his teeth together, he didn't need some overgrown, arrogant, pompous child of his to tell him he was important, he knew that already. Anyway he thought, back to the mortals.

The mortal had burst out into tears, watching his mother's coffin sink into the dirt. QUIT WHINING Cultro growled internally as he dived at the god of bones, knife in hand; stabbing frantically.

If Irekily hasn't felt something off, he would have been in serious pain. He moved at the last possibly second, but the god's blade had managed to swipe him. "What the hell!?" He exclaimed as he had moved out of the way. "What's wrong with you?" His bone knife quickly appeared in his hand and he spun it until the blade faced towards the God of Murder.

"Don't tell me you want a fight, kid." He said. Technically, he'd be older than Cultro, as Irekily was as old as bones themselves, so anything that needed bones. It'd only be right if he called Cultro a kid.

[Jazz Commies and Sexy Astrophysicists]

"I have no interest in ruling the heavens," Tesh replied dismissively, waving his left claw. "But you are not like so many others, weakened by our divine natures. I will assist with your bid for leadership, but you must assist me in my endeavors as well." He moved his claw again and began tapping on his left horn, as he often did while thinking. "The very forces that have created me bind me to my mission; I know no other but it. If you and those who revere you swear to help the enslaved and oppressed of the mortal plane, then you have my assistance."

"That is a worthy cause, and one I shall be happy to assist in." Midian replied, his eyes glowing briefly before continuing, "More of those enslaved shall be born wizards and sorcerer's, and my Mage's shall seek them out, just as they do to all those who are born wizards and sorcerer's. Those who are enslaved shall be taught the ways of magic, and be assisted in helping their friends and families escape bondage. You are well respected among the gods, and your support means much to me. I look forward to working alongside you more often, and I will certainly do all I can to help those who are enslaved and oppressed."

Midian bowed his head slightly, thanking Tesh in a way that many of the humans, especially those who followed him, thanked others.

"Then I shall rule at your side," Tesh replied plainly. "I will continue to speak to my people as I can; I may ask specific favors of you and yours when the time arises. It will be nothing that cannot be managed." He stopped for a moment, before resuming. "I have been called 'abrasive' by many, along with whatever respect I command," he added. "But come what may, so long as you hold your end of the bargain, I am with you."

[Kisinger]

She shivered as the... thing had transformed into something more favorable but just as disturbing... She had transformed into a combination of her and Irekily, something that displeased her greatly. Nonetheless he had agreed to an alliance... Something that had not happened for Centuries, the Insane one accepting a political alliance was unheard of by the gods who remembered who he was. "Wonderful, just wonderful." She smiled as she looked at him. "Now, if you'll excuse me I have to ascend into the Heavens to talk to a friend, I am sure I'll be seeing you again." She waved and bowed in a friendly manner. She quickly whisked herself away to the Heavens.


Upon arrival, she called out for him. "Victorius!" She looked around for him, casually walking around.