Theomachy [Deity RP/IC)

[Of the Quendi]

Theomachy

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In the beginning, there was nothing.

Or at least that is the most prevalent theory. No one really knows. What is known that within the empty void of nothingness was, or grew, something. A spark, a seed, a need; something other than nothingness. Perhaps it had been there all along. Perhaps it preceded even the nothingness. What is known is that it began to grow and thus began the creation. As the kernel of creation grew it came into contact, and then conflict, with the nothingness. These cosmic forces clashed in a struggle between the nothing and the something.

It was from this struggle that consciousness would arise. For through the struggle parts of the divine spark came to define itself as something distinct from the nothingness it fought. And in defining itself against this other these parts of the divine spark became conscious. Ironically, having defined themselves against the nothingness they also inevitably set themselves apart from the spark of which they where no longer a part.

What is understood about these unknowable forces is that if not from the beginning then in time they became antagonistic. The Ultimate Principle is something, and the Void is nothing, and one or the other began to expand. Thus these forces came into contact and clashed, the nothingness seeking to swallow the something and the something trying to dispel the nothingness. Neither able to destroy the other this titanic struggle unfolded over many endless eras with no clear result.

So, in the struggle between nothing and something the seed of creation begat what we most commonly refer to as souls; the incorporeal essence of self-aware conscious beings. They where, and are, legion, both eternal and indestructible and imbued with the power of the divine spark, though not in equal measure. Soon it became apparent that some souls was imbued with more power than others and so the souls began to differentiate between one another and the greatest and most powerful souls were the ones that would one day be known as the Gods.

It was some of these future gods that first discovered that they where not the only offspring of the struggle between something and nothing. They discovered the byproduct of the struggle, a shapeless heap of undeveloped matter and unformed energy congested together. This was the unformed Cosmos, and chaotic as it was the future gods saw that it contained all the building blocks for an ordered Cosmos. And so they determined to create such a reality, for they saw in that chaos, discordant as it was, something closer to their own nature than either the divine spark from which they had separated and the nothingness they had fought. And the gods who undertook to create the ordered cosmos was to be the first generation of gods, the Elder Gods, incorporeal primordial deities concerned with establishing order and balance in the cosmos. They organized energy and matter, created the stars and the planets, laid down the laws that should govern the behavior of the cosmos.

As the Elder Gods put the finishing touches on the new and ordered Cosmos the remainder of the souls migrated into this cosmos. With them where the remainder of the gods who had chosen to stay with the lesser souls rather than partake in the creation of the ordered cosmos. These gods had come to serve as leaders and protectors of the less powerful souls and were the Elder Gods marveled at the cosmos they had created, these gods found meaning and purpose in their roles as guides of lesser souls. These gods became the Younger Gods.

Having finished the ordered cosmos the Elder Gods, content with having imposed order on chaos took little notice of the Younger Gods and the lesser souls. Yet on the planets created by the Elder Gods from the unformed matter born of the struggle between something and nothing things was happening, and one planet in particular something spectacular was about to occur; the emergence of biological lifeforms. While the Elder Gods contemplated the mysteries of the cosmos and creation the Younger Gods and the lesser souls took a great interest in this phenomenon, and guided by the hand of the Younger Gods simple lifeforms became more complex and eventually the lesser souls decided to inhabit some of these lifeforms, most particularly the hominids, who so became conscious beings.

A few of the Younger Gods went and alerted the Elder Gods to this phenomenon. But the Elder Gods did not much care, preferring to observe the cosmos as a whole rather than the activities taking place on one obscure planet. Yet a few Elder Gods was intrigued by the enthusiasm of the Younger Gods for this new phase in creation and two of their number went with the Younger Gods to see the phenomenon for themselves.

There they found that the Younger Gods had not waited for the elder ones but had begun busying themselves organizing life in much the same manner as the Elder Gods once organized the cosmos. But there was much disagreement among the Younger Gods as each had its own idea about how to organize life. Infighting and bickering among the gods caused chaos and confusion on the planet, continuously disrupting creation. To spare creation the worst destruction of feuding gods the two Elder Gods each created a plane of existence, the Celestial Realm and the Underworld respectively, which the Younger Gods settled on. While many gods would routinely visit the physical realm and occasionally feud with their peers there, this organization brought some semblance of stability to the physical realm.

Or at least so it has been until now. The gods are fickle and there is much that divides them. Will they manage to bring greatness and prosperity to the cosmos, or will the brief experiment of creation come to an abrupt end? Only time will tell.

[Nova Corina]

Cyrion

Cyrion was in his vast library, hard at work on the latest chapter of his chronicles of the universe. This vast book that would take eons for even a god to read was Cyrion's main and eternal task. However, at points, even Cyrion could get bored with his eternally unfinished magnum opus. Finally, he closed the book shut, strolling out of the library, glancing at the infinite bookshelves lined with infinite books. He teleported to the outskirts of his massive palace, where one of his faithful servants was waiting for him. "Do you need any assistance?" the servant asked. Cyrion calmly shook his head, pulling his walking stick out of a wall.
Then, he opened the door, revealing an infinite blackness. Some might accuse Cyrion of being a god of darkness, but this was a place where darkness did not even exist. Neither, in fact, did anything else, unless it was Cyrion and sometimes a visitor or two taking a stroll, which he was about to do now.
To someone else, the sensation of walking on nothing would be quite strange indeed. However, Cyrion had been doing it for eons, and he had grown quite comfortable in the feeling. In a universe that was mostly made up of all kinds of turmoil, this was a place where turmoil did not exist.
However, Cyrion's stroll did not last as long as he would have wanted - indeed, none of his strolls had. Unfortunately, Cyrion was a being, and every being had some kind of role to fill in their life, whether it take up minutes or eons. His role was to observe, and record, so that the memories and knowledge of all the events that had gone before would not be lost, in all of their significance.
However, even Cyrion could not tell the future. One was that a new chapter of the universe would indeed start very soon. And this one would be very... interesting.

[Arasi Luvasa]

Anamara paced through the altar chamber of Valari-Calburayn, the cathedral of her citadel. As of late she has been spending much more time here than usual. Practically half her time was spent in the physical plane now, mostly in this chamber or in Vala-Calburayn the oceanic-dragon palace. She has noticed some unrest amongst the other younger gods, and she would have paid it no mind had she not feared that it would spill over into this plane.

The goddess paced up and down, illuminated by the faint light provided by certain tissues within the necromantic mushroom. In the floor, there were a number holes arranged in a pattern radiating from the centre of the chamber. From these holes a wispy white smoke began to issue, it smelled faintly of burning human flesh but that was mostly masked by the scents of incense and perfume. The smoke came from the weekly ritual sacrifice, an elderly foreign man suffering from a plague who had been captured within two days.

The Culling of Sacrifice it was called, a ritual she was surprised by but approved of. Within a month of its initial practice, she visited her high-priest within a dream to alter the ritual slightly. The change was mostly just masking the smell of the burning flesh, which would flow into the Holiest of Holies as the writhing victim burned, but also to have the sacrifice killed before burning.

Soon the room was filled with the wispy smoke in seconds, now looking more like a dense grey-white cloud. A minute in this perfumed fog and Anamara decided she had enough, whisking herself away to the throne room of Vala-Calburayn. Finding it empty, the goddess walked down the winding hallways of the mushroom up to the royal living chambers.

[The Shrailleeni Empire]

Purgem

It was cold in the northlands, for it was winter and the nights were long and hard. Those who lived here knew how to resist the effects of the freezing temperatures, but the men who walked the snow-covered path shivered beneath their furs. Ahead of them, three miles distant, were the small flickering lights of the village that was their designation. To the left of the path, high cliffs covered in long icicles against hard gray stone. To the right of the path, frozen fields. The men were armed as warriors, but were weary and limping. Many displayed bandaged wounds. They scarcely looked around themselves, so focused they were on their path and destination.

As they drew near the village, a disheveled figure appeared crouching miserably against the cold cliffs, wrapped in tattered rags and face covered by a hood. The figure begged the passing men in a strained voice raised against the chill wind for any aid they could offer. Most ignored him. One or two, angered by the man, kicked at his disheveled form and spat words in their language.

"How dare you beg beleaguered men for your own troubles? Do you not know where we come from?"

"He'll be dead of the cold soon anyway," some would say, and travel on.

And so it went, until one young man seeing an instance of this treatment found himself moved to pity despite the ache in his legs and the sting of the cold piercing his heart. When he reached the man, seeing the huts of the village were now in sight, he offered him his outer cloak.

"Here," the young man said, "please take this, that you might yet last the night."

Now for the first time the man looked up, his hood falling away as he grasped the offering. He was an ugly man with a large broken nose, unkempt whiskers and a lopsided face. He grinned at the young man, displaying few remaining teeth.

"My thanks to you for your kindness young sir, such kindness!"

Wrapping the cloak about himself, he rose unsteadily to his feet. The youth protested, but the man seemed fit despite surely weathering long hours against the freezing rock.

"Come," he said, "your spirit has moved me, and we shall proceed together."

The young man was uncertain about this arrangement, but could scarcely now complain since he had given over his cloak. The man was quiet for a little while, and then asked what ill fortune brought so many disheveled warriors to the village path this night.

"We fought the warriors western forest in pitched battle today," the youth said tiredly, "and we were routed. Even now they likely follow us. If they reach the village, all will be killed or worse. They will not spare any. We are a caravan of shame."

The man gestured to the youth's belt with a puzzled expression.

"And even yet, you lost your weapon?" he asked.

The youth grimaced.

"We do not have many weapons," he confessed. "I was lucky to obtain a sturdy spear and a sharp flint point. But the enemy have many weapons, some of metal."

"I see," said the beggar man, and said no more.

They parted ways in the village, and the young man wished the beggar well, though privately he was certain that the man would die exposed over the night. Once all was settled and the village quiet, however, the beggar vanished quiet completely. If any could have observed, they would have seen him reappear high on the mountains which overlooked the village. Gone were his rags and cloak, his body exposed to the elements but seemingly unaffected. He looked over the snow and rock around him. Then, with a gesture, a great font of steam erupted around him. As clouds of evaporating water obscured all outside, near the beggar the rock was now dry and warm, and small flames with no source lit the ground. He stooped to touch a hand to the rock, and it began to glow with heat and melt under his touch.

The process was swift, for the Forgemaster needed no forge in his work. The metals were drawn from the rock and refined in his hands, their shape molded from liquid matter in the way that a potter would mold clay. When this was done the iron, still glowing, was struck into shape with a hammer that defied earthly dimensions. When he was finished, he vanished in a flash of light. The steam dispelled, and once again snow settled on the mountain.

The next morning, the youth awoke to find the cloak which he had lent to the beggar had appeared at his bedside. Within it was wrapped an incredible gift, a sword of iron more exquisite and strong than any metal that the youth had ever seen. It seemed to tingle at his touch.

Stories would say that he had encountered nothing less than a disguised god, Purgem, the God of Fire and Forge. And the battle in which he protected his home would become legendary.

---

Purgem preferred the physical world to the Celestial Realm. All in the Celestial Realm was energy, shaped to fit the will of the gods but ultimately ephemeral. The grand palaces and keeps, gardens and fountains, great halls and lush forests were illusionary and could be changed or dismissed at will. He much preferred to feel things with his own hands, shape the physical world to his liking, craft things from it and mold it to his own designs. And he liked to aid the humans, guide those who were worthy, and in his way impact the course of the lesser souls as well.

There were temples to him, under many names, in many places. His followers were craftsmen and righteous warriors. He visited them when he could.

But he could not stay long in the physical realm, for the longer that he remained there the more difficult it was to keep Her under control. Only in the Celestial Realm could he focus his energies enough to contain Her. And so to there he diligently returned.

His portion of the realm was a place of heat and warm light. It was attuned to the sun, and thus was never dark. He had shaped its appearance to that of a great desert of rolling dunes and soft sand, in the middle of which rose his palace. It gleamed in white and gold in the constant light, shimmering like a mirage. Lesser souls, those who chose to serve him upon their ascension, lived out their afterlives here forging with the materials of Creation itself. He lived among them, taking court in the center spire of the palace in a large circular pit of eternal flame. There he meditated, and occasionally looked upon the physical world to decide where to influence next.

It was a peaceful life, but increasingly Purgem was troubled by what he saw. The forces of the Underworld continued to meddle in the affairs of humans, claiming lesser souls for their own often twisted purposes. He felt that it was his duty to oppose them, just as he opposed Her. But battles between gods were difficult, destructive, and often without a true victor. If another war was to come, he would have to rely on all of his cunning and power to overcome the chaotic forces that ruled the Underworld.

[Ah-eh-ioh-uh]

Purgem

It was cold in the northlands, for it was winter and the nights were long and hard. Those who lived here knew how to resist the effects of the freezing temperatures, but the men who walked the snow-covered path shivered beneath their furs. Ahead of them, three miles distant, were the small flickering lights of the village that was their designation. To the left of the path, high cliffs covered in long icicles against hard gray stone. To the right of the path, frozen fields. The men were armed as warriors, but were weary and limping. Many displayed bandaged wounds. They scarcely looked around themselves, so focused they were on their path and destination.

As they drew near the village, a disheveled figure appeared crouching miserably against the cold cliffs, wrapped in tattered rags and face covered by a hood. The figure begged the passing men in a strained voice raised against the chill wind for any aid they could offer. Most ignored him. One or two, angered by the man, kicked at his disheveled form and spat words in their language.

"How dare you beg beleaguered men for your own troubles? Do you not know where we come from?"

"He'll be dead of the cold soon anyway," some would say, and travel on.

And so it went, until one young man seeing an instance of this treatment found himself moved to pity despite the ache in his legs and the sting of the cold piercing his heart. When he reached the man, seeing the huts of the village were now in sight, he offered him his outer cloak.

"Here," the young man said, "please take this, that you might yet last the night."

Now for the first time the man looked up, his hood falling away as he grasped the offering. He was an ugly man with a large broken nose, unkempt whiskers and a lopsided face. He grinned at the young man, displaying few remaining teeth.

"My thanks to you for your kindness young sir, such kindness!"

Wrapping the cloak about himself, he rose unsteadily to his feet. The youth protested, but the man seemed fit despite surely weathering long hours against the freezing rock.

"Come," he said, "your spirit has moved me, and we shall proceed together."

The young man was uncertain about this arrangement, but could scarcely now complain since he had given over his cloak. The man was quiet for a little while, and then asked what ill fortune brought so many disheveled warriors to the village path this night.

"We fought the warriors western forest in pitched battle today," the youth said tiredly, "and we were routed. Even now they likely follow us. If they reach the village, all will be killed or worse. They will not spare any. We are a caravan of shame."

The man gestured to the youth's belt with a puzzled expression.

"And even yet, you lost your weapon?" he asked.

The youth grimaced.

"We do not have many weapons," he confessed. "I was lucky to obtain a sturdy spear and a sharp flint point. But the enemy have many weapons, some of metal."

"I see," said the beggar man, and said no more.

They parted ways in the village, and the young man wished the beggar well, though privately he was certain that the man would die exposed over the night. Once all was settled and the village quiet, however, the beggar vanished quiet completely. If any could have observed, they would have seen him reappear high on the mountains which overlooked the village. Gone were his rags and cloak, his body exposed to the elements but seemingly unaffected. He looked over the snow and rock around him. Then, with a gesture, a great font of steam erupted around him. As clouds of evaporating water obscured all outside, near the beggar the rock was now dry and warm, and small flames with no source lit the ground. He stooped to touch a hand to the rock, and it began to glow with heat and melt under his touch.

The process was swift, for the Forgemaster needed no forge in his work. The metals were drawn from the rock and refined in his hands, their shape molded from liquid matter in the way that a potter would mold clay. When this was done the iron, still glowing, was struck into shape with a hammer that defied earthly dimensions. When he was finished, he vanished in a flash of light. The steam dispelled, and once again snow settled on the mountain.

The next morning, the youth awoke to find the cloak which he had lent to the beggar had appeared at his bedside. Within it was wrapped an incredible gift, a sword of iron more exquisite and strong than any metal that the youth had ever seen. It seemed to tingle at his touch.

Stories would say that he had encountered nothing less than a disguised god, Purgem, the God of Fire and Forge. And the battle in which he protected his home would become legendary.

---

Purgem preferred the physical world to the Celestial Realm. All in the Celestial Realm was energy, shaped to fit the will of the gods but ultimately ephemeral. The grand palaces and keeps, gardens and fountains, great halls and lush forests were illusionary and could be changed or dismissed at will. He much preferred to feel things with his own hands, shape the physical world to his liking, craft things from it and mold it to his own designs. And he liked to aid the humans, guide those who were worthy, and in his way impact the course of the lesser souls as well.

There were temples to him, under many names, in many places. His followers were craftsmen and righteous warriors. He visited them when he could.

But he could not stay long in the physical realm, for the longer that he remained there the more difficult it was to keep Her under control. Only in the Celestial Realm could he focus his energies enough to contain Her. And so to there he diligently returned.

His portion of the realm was a place of heat and warm light. It was attuned to the sun, and thus was never dark. He had shaped its appearance to that of a great desert of rolling dunes and soft sand, in the middle of which rose his palace. It gleamed in white and gold in the constant light, shimmering like a mirage. Lesser souls, those who chose to serve him upon their ascension, lived out their afterlives here forging with the materials of Creation itself. He lived among them, taking court in the center spire of the palace in a large circular pit of eternal flame. There he meditated, and occasionally looked upon the physical world to decide where to influence next.

It was a peaceful life, but increasingly Purgem was troubled by what he saw. The forces of the Underworld continued to meddle in the affairs of humans, claiming lesser souls for their own often twisted purposes. He felt that it was his duty to oppose them, just as he opposed Her. But battles between gods were difficult, destructive, and often without a true victor. If another war was to come, he would have to rely on all of his cunning and power to overcome the chaotic forces that ruled the Underworld.

Creation came too quickly for him to keep track of. He had no idea how people could create so much so quickly. His head spun and an unholy scream of pain escaped his lips as he held his head in his hands. To shut him up the others had tossed him far away so as to not hear his voice.

He did not know when he was born or if he had simply ALWAYS been there but over the time his head had filled with vast amounts of information and his personality began to take shape. Slowly but surely his sobbings began to quiet down to quiet sniffles as he calmed down and processed the last of the latest stream of data entering his mind. It was in a slow meditation that he sought to calm his gasping breaths and quiet his tortured mind. He did not know how he knew how to meditate but he found that in the void of space where he had been thrown, he could find a sense of inner peace filling him as he sat cross legged in the black of space.

A body made of violent flares of fire and light which he previously possessed now began to calm into a less abrasive light and the heat which was once an inferno now became more like soft candle light. Before there was once a flaring of fiery flares that would cook anything to oblivion soon became soft pulsating vibrations that echoed throughout the universe around him.

Obviously not everyone in the cosmos as of yet could feel anything from these happenings. Yet there were at least a few of the more spiritually aware and energetically attuned that could feel this sort of...soft tranquility that emanated from space. It was as if there was some being out there.... Some sort of presence out there that was letting them know that everything was going to be alright. That they would get through this. That there was a way to survive this day despite the stress of their days.

[The Shrailleeni Empire]

Creation came too quickly for him to keep track of. He had no idea how people could create so much so quickly. His head spun and an unholy scream of pain escaped his lips as he held his head in his hands. To shut him up the others had tossed him far away so as to not hear his voice.

He did not know when he was born or if he had simply ALWAYS been there but over the time his head had filled with vast amounts of information and his personality began to take shape. Slowly but surely his sobbings began to quiet down to quiet sniffles as he calmed down and processed the last of the latest stream of data entering his mind. It was in a slow meditation that he sought to calm his gasping breaths and quiet his tortured mind. He did not know how he knew how to meditate but he found that in the void of space where he had been thrown, he could find a sense of inner peace filling him as he sat cross legged in the black of space.

A body made of violent flares of fire and light which he previously possessed now began to calm into a less abrasive light and the heat which was once an inferno now became more like soft candle light. Before there was once a flaring of fiery flares that would cook anything to oblivion soon became soft pulsating vibrations that echoed throughout the universe around him.

Obviously not everyone in the cosmos as of yet could feel anything from these happenings. Yet there were at least a few of the more spiritually aware and energetically attuned that could feel this sort of...soft tranquility that emanated from space. It was as if there was some being out there.... Some sort of presence out there that was letting them know that everything was going to be alright. That they would get through this. That there was a way to survive this day despite the stress of their days.

Like most of the younger gods, Purgem did not often contemplate the universe of Creation at large which was the realm of the elder gods and their lofty ideals. When he meditated, it was on the physical world and what happened below. In his true form he was scarcely distinguishable from the fire that surrounded him, a humanoid shape made of softly glowing red flame. He focussed his energies, and felt for disturbances in the realm of the mortal souls. He frowned as visions of a human sacrifice passed through his inner vision, a burnt offering to the goddess Anamara. The use of fire for destructive purposes displeased him, but he could feel Her joy roiling within him.

The flesh burns a voice hissed, the flesh purifies...

But at that point there was a shift in the universe that was detected by their combined energies. Not in the physical realm, but out in the vast lifeless cosmos of the elder gods. Purgem, who was the youngest of the young gods, struggled to make sense of the sensation. It was as if a great and brilliant flame, akin to the nuclear inferno of the stars, had somehow pacified. It was almost too minute a change to draw attention, but the shift in fiery energy hovered at the edge of his vision like something not quite seen. Even She seemed puzzled for a moment, but then he felt her stir with curiosity.

The Screaming One has stopped, she thought within him.

Purgem did not know who the Screaming One was, but he sensed intuitively that this represented a shift in the order of the cosmos. When he focussed on the source of this shift, he sensed a tranquil energy emanating from it. This tranquility seemed to greatly upset Her, and in so doing pleased him. Had he not just been thinking that he would need cunning and power in the coming days? This was a new variable, perhaps one that could be harnessed. The introduction of a new young god to the order of the cosmos.

He concentrated, mapping his route through the burning stars to find the source of the tranquility. His form flickered a moment and then vanished from the Celestial Plane.

Out in the vastness of empty space, far from the nearest sources of fire, two figures who glowed softly with the warm light of a hearth now sat facing one another in the way that only immortals could. Purgem regarded this other contemplatively, not only taking in the flamelike form of its physicality but also the energy that made up its being. In outward appearance they might have been twins, but in inner energies they were distinct beings.

"I have felt the settling of your energies," he said simply, and awaited a response.

[Ah-eh-ioh-uh]

At least a few warriors as they marched tiredly with their wounds noticed the warm energy flowing over them. They paused and looked about for the source of this mysterious sensation. It felt very surreal and the others weren't quite sure what made them stop. They all talked and inquired as to whether any others could feel it. Soon enough the others upon being prompted soon paid closer attention to the sensation enveloping them and began to wonder at the occurrence.

The "screaming one" (if that was even an appropriate name for him anymore) didn't quite know whether it was something quite out of his control or his subconscious made it so, but as he meditated a sound began to emanate from him that would later shape human perception of him for eons to come. It was a strange sort of vibrating sound in a deep voice that echoed throughout the galaxy. It was a pulsating noise not unlike a very slow heartbeat or a breath. It is unclear whether it came from his whole body or just his mouth but the vibrations and the sound could be heard even farther than the feeling of inner peace that filled the warriors.

"HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuummmmmmmmmmmmmm" his voice vibrated throughout the galaxy, catching the curious ears of villagers throughout the land of mortals and likely many of the gods too.

"Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaauuuuuuuuuuuummmmmmmm" he sang out, repeating this mantra of inner peace.

"Haaaaaaaaaauuuuuuuuuuummmmmm" he sang out as many villagers began to subconsciously mirror his own actions in the void in their homes or even stopping their work to join in on the massive unplanned and spontaneous village wide meditation circle.

"HAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUMMMMMM" the collective villager voices sang out along side him as some of the villagers's deeply un spiritual bosses yelled at them to not dawdle so strangely and get back to work.

The screaming one lifted on hand up subconsciously and worked his fingers into a strange symbol and brought it into the air. The other one in a similar symbol to touch a metaphorical floor beneath him and send out ripples in a metaphorical pond in the universe around him. https://images.search.yahoo.com/images/view;_ylt=Awr9LtZIrcpblFwAHkCKnIlQ;_ylu=X3oDMTI0Y2p0ajlpBHNlYwNzcgRzbGsDaW1nBG9pZANhMjk1ODY1NmJlOTE0NmUzMjBlYTk4Mzc0NTJkNzM4ZgRncG9zAzE5MwRpdANiaW5n?.origin=&back=https%3A%2F%2Fimages.search.yahoo.com%2Fsearch%2Fimages%3Fp%3Dmudra%26fr%3Dipad%26fr2%3Dpiv-web%26nost%3D1%26tab%3Dorganic%26ri%3D193&w=1024&h=704&imgurl=www.yogaenred.com%2Fwp-content%2Fuploads%2F2013%2F09%2Fmaharsis-mudra.jpg&rurl=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.yogaenred.com%2F2013%2F09%2F11%2Fmudras-mahasirs-mudras%2F&size=121.3KB&name=Mudras%3A+Mahasirs+%3Cb%3EMudra%3C%2Fb%3E+%7C+Yoga+en+Red&p=mudra&oid=a2958656be9146e320ea9837452d738f&fr2=piv-web&fr=ipad&tt=Mudras%3A+Mahasirs+%3Cb%3EMudra%3C%2Fb%3E+%7C+Yoga+en+Red&b=181&ni=21&no=193&ts=&tab=organic&sigr=11rfht3cn&sigb=133tnk0fa&sigi=11v68jfkp&sigt=11bh42iu2&sign=11bh42iu2&.crumb=P8oaibSHMha&fr=ipad&fr2=piv-web

Even some of these unspiritual old prudes fell under his spell and eventually and reluctantly joined in on the soothing relaxing meditation.

Later these prudes would forgive their workers and themselves for this slight, having to grudgingly admit it just simply one of those spontaneous and irrational supernatural happenings that affected human civilization from time to time. The meditation wasn't that long so soon enough the vibrations slowly began to die down to a very low hum and eventually to nonexistnce as time progressed.

Everyone had this warm glow about them for a time afterwards and the area became a lot less grumpy of an area to live for while. People were nicer to eachother and they didn't take things all that serious for a while. People didn't stress or live as if they had nails in their backs and the villagers would later look upon the land to find that god (well, one of them at any rate) had placed these strange pinkish flowers everywhere whilst they had all been with their eyes closed in meditation. https://www.wallpaperflare.com/selective-focus-photography-of-pink-petaled-flowers-in-full-bloom-lotus-flower-wallpaper-9326

[Ah-eh-ioh-uh]

Creation came too quickly for him to keep track of. He had no idea how people could create so much so quickly. His head spun and an unholy scream of pain escaped his lips as he held his head in his hands. To shut him up the others had tossed him far away so as to not hear his voice.

He did not know when he was born or if he had simply ALWAYS been there but over the time his head had filled with vast amounts of information and his personality began to take shape. Slowly but surely his sobbings began to quiet down to quiet sniffles as he calmed down and processed the last of the latest stream of data entering his mind. It was in a slow meditation that he sought to calm his gasping breaths and quiet his tortured mind. He did not know how he knew how to meditate but he found that in the void of space where he had been thrown, he could find a sense of inner peace filling him as he sat cross legged in the black of space.

A body made of violent flares of fire and light which he previously possessed now began to calm into a less abrasive light and the heat which was once an inferno now became more like soft candle light. Before there was once a flaring of fiery flares that would cook anything to oblivion soon became soft pulsating vibrations that echoed throughout the universe around him.

Obviously not everyone in the cosmos as of yet could feel anything from these happenings. Yet there were at least a few of the more spiritually aware and energetically attuned that could feel this sort of...soft tranquility that emanated from space. It was as if there was some being out there.... Some sort of presence out there that was letting them know that everything was going to be alright. That they would get through this. That there was a way to survive this day despite the stress of their days.

Like most of the younger gods, Purgem did not often contemplate the universe of Creation at large which was the realm of the elder gods and their lofty ideals. When he meditated, it was on the physical world and what happened below. In his true form he was scarcely distinguishable from the fire that surrounded him, a humanoid shape made of softly glowing red flame. He focussed his energies, and felt for disturbances in the realm of the mortal souls. He frowned as visions of a human sacrifice passed through his inner vision, a burnt offering to the goddess Anamara. The use of fire for destructive purposes displeased him, but he could feel Her joy roiling within him.

The flesh burns a voice hissed, the flesh purifies...

But at that point there was a shift in the universe that was detected by their combined energies. Not in the physical realm, but out in the vast lifeless cosmos of the elder gods. Purgem, who was the youngest of the young gods, struggled to make sense of the sensation. It was as if a great and brilliant flame, akin to the nuclear inferno of the stars, had somehow pacified. It was almost too minute a change to draw attention, but the shift in fiery energy hovered at the edge of his vision like something not quite seen. Even She seemed puzzled for a moment, but then he felt her stir with curiosity.

The Screaming One has stopped, she thought within him.

Purgem did not know who the Screaming One was, but he sensed intuitively that this represented a shift in the order of the cosmos. When he focussed on the source of this shift, he sensed a tranquil energy emanating from it. This tranquility seemed to greatly upset Her, and in so doing pleased him. Had he not just been thinking that he would need cunning and power in the coming days? This was a new variable, perhaps one that could be harnessed. The introduction of a new young god to the order of the cosmos.

He concentrated, mapping his route through the burning stars to find the source of the tranquility. His form flickered a moment and then vanished from the Celestial Plane.

Out in the vastness of empty space, far from the nearest sources of fire, two figures who glowed softly with the warm light of a hearth now sat facing one another in the way that only immortals could. Purgem regarded this other contemplatively, not only taking in the flamelike form of its physicality but also the energy that made up its being. In outward appearance they might have been twins, but in inner energies they were distinct beings.

"I have felt the settling of your energies," he said simply, and awaited a response.

"It is not known why the change took place, nor what caused it" he spoke, as he sat there in a crosslegged full lotus position with his mudras sending calmness out into the universe.

"All that is known is that I needed to stop screaming" he said simply, the humming noises still emanating from him despite him appearing to be speaking to the other.

The humming one felt his brethren with his being. Nevertheless he took the time to open his eyes, whatever that counted for considering he appeared to be little more than yellow candlelight given a vaguely human form. His voice was echoey and reverberated. It had one of those chilling mystic god voices type of feel to it. A soothing sort of calm voice, like a delicate ripple in a pond or the pulsing of a heart.

[Of the Quendi]

Atop a beam in the Valari-Calburyan temple of the goddess Anamara lay a cat. Well cat was perhaps not quite the term. Its size was more like that of a panther or a leopard, its fur too perfectly, almost shiny, white for a cat and its eyes, one yellow and one blue shone brightly. Beyond these obvious descriptives it was however a distinctly cat like creature that lay on the beam. Its behavior, was certainly cat like. It stretched and yawned atop the beam in displays of such absolute relaxation as only a cat could master, every once in a while it licked one of its paws and rub it across its body. Still even the most dense observer could not have looked at the creature and failed to see a being of divine power.

But no one saw the creature. It was invisible to the hairless monkeys scuttling around beneath it burning the corpse of an old and plague-infested hairless monkey. Hairless monkeys; always busy with some random and pointless enterprise. Mau Miaulin would never understand why her cousins thought this the densest and most pointless of primates so fascinating. And yet the reason she was slumbering under the roof in Anamara's temple, where the unpleasant scent of burnt flesh, carefully camouflaged as it was, reached the nostrils of the spirit guide, was because of a hairless monkey. The old plague infested one the Anamara cultists was burning to be exact. Standing a bit away from the cultists the deceased man's soul was loitering in a state of extreme confusion and panic. Hairless monkey's; they always made a big deal of death. If Mau Miaulin's children made such a fuzz of even all their nine death's combined she would have drowned them. But there was no teaching the hairless monkey's.

Despite her displeasure a small smirk crossed Mau Miaulin's face as the soul of the deceased old male tried to attack the cultists and recover his body. It failed of course. Non-corporeality had its uses but it was difficult to interact with physical matter. Mau Miaulin meowed at the soul. A tired, disinterested and slightly irked meow. He looked up. Only now did the fool, the only one of the hairless monkey's in Anamara's temple who could actually perceive Mau Miaulin, take notice of her. Another testament to the foolishness of hairless monkey's. He gaped at the cat on the beam. Then he screamed.

Mau Miaulin rolled her eyes and growled at the annoying noise. She reminded himself the old male was already dead and she couldn't shut him up by killing him. "Are you coming monkey?" Mau Miaulin asked. Then with that she, slowly, meanderingly, got up from her, frankly not terribly pleasant resting place on the beam. She would have to talk to Amanara about making Valari-Calburyan a more pleasant place is the goddess planned to make a habit of having people killed there. Mau Miaulin jumped down landing gracefully next to the soul of the dead hairless monkey. The soul bolted, still screaming. Mau Miaulin sighed. And the other gods wondered why she didn't retrieve the souls of every dead primate. Easily Mau Miaulin chased the soul around the temple of Anamara, perhaps slightly entertained by the hunt and the extreme reactions of the old monkey. His obvious terror and panic was a little funny, Mau Miaulin could not deny. Eventually the man got tired. That happened to souls recently demised. They hadn't learned that non-corporeal beings are inexhaustible. "Are you coming monkey?" Mau Miaulin asked again.

"Who are you? What do you want with me?" The hairless monkey panted. Mau Miaulin rolled her eyes again. What an original question. No one had ever asked that before. "I am your destiny." She dead-panned in a mock tone of somber piety. "I have come to punish for your past sins and transgressions." She solemnly sermonized. To her surprise the hairless monkey looked at her in fear. "You are?" He whimpered. God they where a stupid lot. "No of course not." Mau Miaulin barked. "Sins and transgression? Are you serious? You are dead and I am here to take you to the Underworld. Maybe someone down there cares about your sins, but don't bother me with it, I have better things to do. Are you coming or should I just eat you?" Mau Miaulin growled. Nervously the hairless monkey nodded. Not a complete idiot perhaps.

Without another word Mau Miaulin turned around and sauntered towards the exit of the temple. "Keep up monkey, I aint waiting." She said.

[Kistan]

Hianu was a widely known, but barely noticed deity. Worshipped as a minor goddess of duty and communal unity across half of Thossos, shrines to her were popular in the countryside in clan compounds and the hamlets that littered the winding dirt roads between major cities. Only one of these centers of civilization had a cult dedicated to her - Hastra. The city bordered the Cobean peoples to the west, who worshipped Hianu sparingly and in a much harsher fashion; to the north, great plains and dry steppes hosted sparse Middic settlements and nomadic tribes from across the continent. Hastra was itself a relatively small city-state by Thossan standards, but even then, it was set near the center of trade and travel up and down the Aeotas River. It was here that Antiphes Gais was summoned by several of his fellow citizens to a dilapidated temple building on the edge of the city.

"My condolences about your father, Antiphes. He was a good man." Deon Osius, an old family friend and business partner, led the newly made man into the crumbling structure.

"Couldn't you at least let my family have their week in peace? We haven't finished the mourning rituals, and I'm overwhelmed with the property that needs to be catalogued. We had hoped he would live long enough to see the Solstice -- I would have been ready for the burial by then."

"Normally, we'd let you be, but our Lady said you needed to be introduced to someone. She claims your father bargained to give you an audience with her."

"Lady...?" Antiphes had never heard any titles ascribed to the city's patron deity. Perhaps they were referring to an actual woman, and simply speaking of her oddly. None of these men were beneath anyone else in the city or the surrounds; they lead the voting, landed men as judges and administrators both.

"Look around you. Myself, Calchas, Nicolis... we're the wealthiest citizens in Hastra. You think we're all here for a mere aquaintance? You may only be a regular citizen, but you have a vote now, and everything else your father had."

"I get it, fate and all that. Just show me whoever this 'lady' is."

The elderly man pointed to the temple's inner sanctum. Antiphes stepped in, noting the shabby decoration dedicated to some ancient god; the space was cramped and the walls rough and worn. A simple wooden stand sat between the rear support columns. As he approached, the young man realized that upon it laid a simple amulet. Unadorned, of a dark metal, it was fashioned in the shape of a small square hand, with the palm open and a simple cord attached to the top to make a necklace. "Take it," Nicolis urged him with a wave of his hands, "it is yours, provided you fulfil your obligations."

"I worship Hianu first and foremost, though."

"Take the sigil and you will understand."

The newly landed man pondered his options for a moment. Should he run, take it, or resist? What would happen when he took the little metal hand, if anything? What if --

"Just pick it up, already!"

Antiphes snatched up the necklace.

Hello, little Gais. A voice clearly dissimilar to his own thoughts entered his mind.

"What in the name of the ancients? What is this?" He stepped back, turning his head around in search of a source.

"Alright, we've done our part. Let's go." The three oligarchs behind him hurried out of the sanctum without so much as a goodbye.

"Wait, explain this! Don't leave!" Antiphes shouted after them, but it was no use. They either did not hear or (most likely) refused to return. The first step he took after them was stopped by the voice in his head again.

Halt. He obeyed, whether out of fear or curiosity he did not know.

I mean you no harm. Your father begged me to take you in like I did him; for that, he paid a great toll. Do not speak aloud. Simply listen, and when I am finished, think what you want to say. I will hear it.

... Alright. He focused on the word in his head.

The voice continued. I am Hishar, the personal goddess of your compatriots and your late father. They learned of me from a previous adherent, and now I have decided to offer you a deal. Each of them and the ones who served me before them have accepted, and if you do as well, it will be a lifelong commitment.

I worship Hianu.

I would never demand worship; quite the opposite, in fact. You will never build temples for me, nor will you speak my name without my explicit permission. You will obey my commands, no matter how petty or how little you understand their purpose, nor how much it pains you. In return, I swear to you that I shall not ask you to harm yourself or generally act against your own personal interests. No sacrifice of your kin as the Middites do; no wasteful order to put yourself at risk will come from me. I will give you the edge in every battle, an early start on every opportunity, and most importantly the ability to see every ambition through to its fullest.

And if I refuse?

I am in your head. I could simply drive you mad, unable to sleep and unable to hear your own thoughts. That or make your head split open. Don't think you can avoid it by dropping the sigil, either. I don't actually need it to talk; I prefer to make my followers switch their practices every so often as a sign of obedience.

What are you a god of?

I am the Lady of Iron, Goddess of Domination or Control -- whichever you prefer. I am the one responsible for lifting your father from life as a slave to that of a respected member of society. I promise to you a path to power, wealth, status and any other earthly thing you desire. In return, you will give me obedience and place yourself at my whim as I will place others beneath you. You may worship other gods and spread their faiths as you wish so long as my commands are obeyed first. What say you?

His mind swam with the information. Having power over his city? Getting back at childhood rivals? Gaining the status to court Sandrine, Oligarch Calchas' neice? Will you ever leave me alone, should I wish to be? Or will you be constantly speaking to me?

I suppose it is good you ask so many questions; better an inquisitive servant than a stupid one. I invest heavily in each of my champions, especially since my cult proper was broken in the twilight of the Cobean Empire. Still, I tire of conversation as much as any mortal. I will speak when I must, and when you ask, but rarely in idle conversation.

Alright. He put on the necklace, hiding the cold iron of his new patron's symbol beneath his shirt. Not as if Hianu ever spoke to me in person.

Good. I will let you be for now. You have much work to do acquainting yourself with your inheritance, and I have other works I must attend to.

[The Anarcho-Syndicalist Commune]

Lokarn

The Queen of Death wandered through the halls of Kael Undaran, the great black fortress that occupied the center of the Underworld. Fortress didn't even really describe it. It was a massive mountain of black metallic towers and walls, filled with rooms unending and monsters more terrible than most could ever imagine. She currently resided in the form most mortals called Helnith, the Empress of Destruction. Her long raven hair fell off her head a smoke from her crown of steel followed her like a dark halo. She approached one particular room, guarded by gigantic doors seemingly made purely out of some kind of red gemstone. It wouls have taken an army of mortals to open it, but Lokarn pushed it open casually, revealing a gigantic contraption, filled with several jars of glowing essence hooked up to it. Lokarn smiled as she seemed to judge it postively. Sitting in a massive throne in the middle of device, she had several imps attach wires to her, then turn the machine on, causing the essence to flow into her. Lokarn gritted her teeth before her eyes flashed open, shining with brilliant white light instead of this forms typical crimson red.

Flexing her fingers, she quickly decided that all of the underworld simply wouldn't be enough for testing out her powers. This would be first true test of her strength ever since she was forced to hide on this world and these younger gods. She wanted to destroy something of note, something of importance. It couldn't be anything too large yet. A small mortal settlement would have to do. Stepping forward, she peeled open a portal between the planes, and stepped through.

She was floating high above a medium sized mortal settlement. It was the center of a small tribe of mortals from the north who worshipped the trees for some reason. No god attached to them, no major impact on the world besides what benefited her, and not big enough to attract the attention of whatever of her kin still stirred within the deep cosmos. As villagers began to notice the dark form above them, floating on what seemed to be wings of pure darkness, Lokarn merely pointed her hand downward, and allowed the energy to flow out. Men, women, children, dogs and houses turned into a strange glowing dust that floated on the wind, beggining to swirl around Lokarn. The dark goddess smiled as nothing was left of the village but ice and snow, not even the souls of the villagers. No beam of light came flying down from the cosmos, no other god appeared. It was time for the next phase in her great plan.

[The Shrailleeni Empire]

"It is not known why the change took place, nor what caused it" he spoke, as he sat there in a crosslegged full lotus position with his mudras sending calmness out into the universe.

"All that is known is that I needed to stop screaming" he said simply, the humming noises still emanating from him despite him appearing to be speaking to the other.

The humming one felt his brethren with his being. Nevertheless he took the time to open his eyes, whatever that counted for considering he appeared to be little more than yellow candlelight given a vaguely human form. His voice was echoey and reverberated. It had one of those chilling mystic god voices type of feel to it. A soothing sort of calm voice, like a delicate ripple in a pond or the pulsing of a heart.

Purgem regarded the form of candlelight as it grew warm and yellow in contrast to the burning red of his own form. His own voice was louder in comparison to the soothing tones of the other god, like the bright crackling of a campfire. The humming which now emanated from the other was powerful, and he could feel Her attempts to escape bondage slowly begin to die down. Her hate did not subside, but it was now a quiet stewing hatred rather than a vibrant fury.

"Perhaps," he ventured, "you have simply needed more time to adjust to Creation than most. I know you have been isolated since the Beginning. Much has changed in those eons," he said gently. "I thought that you might like to speak to another of our kind."

[Ah-eh-ioh-uh]

"The introspection would certainly be of great curiosity" he replied, liking the idea of being in contact with another of his kind.

The humming one undid the mudra in his hands and the humming vibrations stopped. The warm fuzzy feeling and faint echoes of the calming buzzing vibrations remained but his active emanations of peace and tranquility ceased. The humming one uncrossed his legs and stood up and looked about the void of the starry sky about him in wonder before facing his brother.

"The information banks in my mind tell me long walks humans take are good for contemplation and conversation" he said gesturing out to him as he stood ready to glide through the skies around him.

The humming one held out his hand in a gesture he was unsure of the meaning behind, but knowing nonetheless it was a pure gesture. In human culture which he absorbed information from (and ultimately and interestingly emulated), it was a mixed bag whether brothers holding hands whilst walking was an okay thing or a bad thing. He just knew that it was either a gesture meaning "take my hand and walk with me brother" or simply, a gesture to tell someone to follow.

This was all of course assuming his brother understood the human gestures at all. The humming one did not of course mean anything homosexual by the gesture. He was still not even certain as to the nature of attraction at this moment and simply saw nothing wrong with walking hand in hand with his brother. Given that neither of them were having of corporeal forms however (nor being arguably brothers at all due to the complicated concept of biology), it was clear that the humming one had only a meditative 'walk' in mind.

[The Shrailleeni Empire]

"I think that this would be a good idea," Purgem said, his agreement in this form radiating from his person. The other within him squirmed at this unhappily, for She dislike this humming one a great deal and found his tranquility to be painful. She was a being of activity, of burning destruction. But for a god of creation, it was a pleasant sensation.

He took the offered hand, his energies entwining with that of the other in small flares of light. Purgem had been human once, a long time ago, and he understood the gesture. Besides this, it was the most convenient way to move through time and space while still within proximity to one another. Space meant very little to a god, who needed only imagine themselves somewhere to ultimately arrive. But this was different, a chance for communication. Back in the Celestial Realm they might have lounged on chairs or walked in a garden. Here, they merely floated through the vacuum that the elder gods had shaped Creation around.

"So you know of humans?" he asked as he proceeded. "Is this knowing, these memory banks, in your nature?"

[Ah-eh-ioh-uh]

"Yes I expect it would HAVE to be a part of my nature" he confirmed as they glided meditatively across the empty space of the stars.

"Otherwise I'd have to learn things in a far more time consuming manner and have to visit each specific location of the known cosmos myself in order to find out what had gone on there" he noted, his voice having lost it's flashy vibrating effect in favor of a more personable one of a still soothing quality.

It was a voice that was soft and soothing but had none of the grandiose vibrating and echoing of a flamboyant manner of speaking. They now just glided through the skies, the humming one looking about space in wonder and smiling at the warmth his brother gave off.

The humming one too gave off warmth, a gentle should being sensed. He could sense the other's aura as well. In holding his hand he received visions of sweat and labor, but not necessarily of negative toil. In his mind he saw the fires of industry happening and the beating of hammers on anvils. He saw smoke and furnaces, the picking of pickaxes on hard rock and the sweat of hard work. He took a short while to figure out if he liked the sensations a washing him which emanated from his brother. He decided he liked the smells and sensations he felt from the visions.

He found he liked hard work so long as it was prompted by free will and that the smells of industry were okay in moderation. Sure, they were a bit stinky and unpleasant but he had a feeling that if someone worked hard to get around these issues perhaps they could get around the unhealthiness of an existence working in the mines.

[The Anarcho-Syndicalist Commune]

Lokarn

As she breathed in the essence of the village around her, Lokarn let out a loud sigh. She drifted towards the ground, the snow near where her feet touched down melting away instantly and the grass underneath became almost instantly scorched away. Laughing as she beheld what she had wrought from the ground level she snapped her finger, bringing forth a small bit of essence she had not quite absorbed yet and holding it in the air before her, she caused it to recoagulate and form into a vaguely man like shape. Allowing it to fully reform, a man dropped to the ground in front of her. After a coarse few breaths, he seemed to break down crying, stunned from the reality of being alive once more. He was after all, one of the only beings to have first experienced unbeing and actually being able to describe it.

Then he looked up, and his shock turned into awe which turned into fear. Above him stood a giant by his standards, with a cape of shadow billowing behind her. Smoke crowned her as her eyes bored into her. He sputtered out there "Wha... What are you? WHAT ARE YOU?"

The response did not come from Lokarn's mouth. Instead the man began to clutch his head as a presence infested it, speaking in a million different voices and dialects as it tore at the very foundation of his being, "I am everything. I am the Eldest of this world's gods. I am the once beloved. I am the nightmare of the cosmos. I am all you fear, and all you love. I am your destroyer, and now I am your creator.

The man cried out as his body began to break apart around him. His bones cracked and changed beneath his skin as his muscles burned with the fury of a hornets nest. His mind was assailed with unimaginable psychic pain and agony as it was tortured over and over until it fit Lokarn's specifications. By the time the pain relieved itself of him, the man had transformed itself into something else. He now stood easily 8 feet tall, with a pair of large metal horns jutting from his head. Terrible fangs sprouted from his mouth and his skin had turned a sickly green. His eyes now glowed an unearthly yellow. Again the terrible voice racked his head Show me mortal. Where is the nearest great city?

The beast grunted "Allow me to lead the way Creator."

Lokarn shifted into an all together different form, transforming into a black robed and hooded woman with similar features as her Destruction form, but her demeanor changed entirely, now reflecting a far more terrifying and eldritch presence than the sheer madness of her previous form. She was also now fairly normal sized, standing at about six feet tall. She stuck her hand forward and caused the snow to whirl around it, transforming it into two great warhorses made of ice. Inviting her new servant to ride one, she let him lead the way out of the grove where the village once stood, off towards the nearest city.

[The Shrailleeni Empire]

He couldn't say that he was happy often. Content at times, especially when creating something new from the materials of the earth or when a new industrious and creative soul joined his court in the Celestial Realm. But his personal life was one of constant turmoil and effort. Strangely then he felt the same sense of contentedness now that was usually reserved for his endeavors. This god, the Humming One, was unlike any other deity that he had met of the hundreds that existed. Most wore their power with the arrogant confidence of a immortal, few were inherently peaceful and fewer still exuded calmness in this manner.

And so it was kindly that he replied with a laughing tone, "many of our kind must do exactly that. You will find that omniscience varies between us. We all possess a certain kind of knowing, but some know much and others less. It would seem that you are one that knows much without effort."

"My own knowing is restricted to my realm, that of heat and light, and to those souls that have bonded to me."

Something was hovering at the edge of his perception once again, a small nagging feeling that he could not place. Something was occurring back on the planet of life, but it was not substantial enough to claim his full attention. Some god interfering in the affairs of mortals again, no doubt. It could wait.

"Then you must know of the Project, and of the splitting of the realms of the young gods?" he questioned, perhaps needlessly, but then he was not all-knowing.

[Ah-eh-ioh-uh]

"I know something of a couple of realms separate from the mortal one if that is what you are referring to" he said as he remembered being aware of a couple separate places where gods dwell.

"Are you referring to the place where mortal souls go after death and the other place solely for the divine?" He asks, not liking the feeling he TOO was receiving from the mortal realms.

"I have been made aware of a hierarchy forming in each realm somewhat akin to the human relationship of landlord and tenants" he said, wondering if this is what his brother was talking about.

[Arasi Luvasa]

The glowing tissues of the royal chambers were covered, leaving its hallways in a blanket of thick darkness. Precious rugs and decorative furniture were placed along the corridor, even if the items were rarely used. To most the combination of these two features would prove to be a hazard, Anamara was however able to see perfectly well in the darkness. Easily dodging chairs and statues the goddess walked to the empress’s personal quarters, a number of rooms making up the highest section of the palace. The great tower was a symbol of splendour. Anamara admired her children’s handiwork; they very much resembled their mother’s nature.

The rooms in this section could only be reached with the aid of a fungal stone. Some were raised, requiring the temporary growth of steps or use of flight, while others were completely blocked of by discoloured section of the mushroom walls. The empress’s quarters would be blocked in a similar manner, only with the stone could one safely pass through while any attempt to hack through would release the poisonous pigments. Many of the raised rooms housed servants, some of the other housed nobles but most of the deeper rooms were empty. Empress Kascagrin was having difficulty with producing offspring, whether with her various concubines or with her husband.

Usually Anamara would not be interested in this sort of issue, but this was affecting the heart of her empire and trouble was brewing. With only prince Rhysandr, the people were becoming restless. The throne had no heir. Anamara could not help but wonder what was going on, even considering the birth-rate of dragons this was strange. Was magic being used to interfere with Kascagrin’s ability to bear young? For what purpose? Kascagrin’s prayers also helped to sway her of course, but the mother of dragons was already contemplating involvement.

Just a few more steps, and Anamara would be in the chambers of the empress. The bioluminescent tissue behind her was uncovered, perhaps she should have just manifested inside the chambers. This section of tissue was dim, the light did not uncover a great section of the hallway but it did reveal her. The mother of disease was glad she had taken her darker form; the pale haired one was the form in which she usually manifested before dragons.

“Who are you?” The voice of a young man asked. Anamara turned slowly to face him, a youth who would seem twenty had he been human. Horns sprouted from his temples, only just lighter than his pale blonde hair and his handsome features were pulled into an ugly scowl.

Thinking quickly, Anamara acted without hesitation. Today she was here to investigate, her presence would not be known yet. “Prince Rhysandr, what a surprise!” She said, smiling courteously “I’m just a simple lesser noble from Ithixrin, a newly founded town. I am here to seek your mother’s blessing so that we may erect Valar-Ithixrin.”
Rhysandr calmed, or at least the scowl faded from his face. He was still somewhat tense. Smart boy… She thought …don’t just trust anyone who happens to appear in your home. As Rhysandr looked her over again, Anamara became aware of something strange at her temple. She had never been present in the physical realm yet, however the presence of another deity in Valari-Calburayn was concerning regardless of the frequency with which it occurred.

The prince frowned, Anamara guessed he had decided to accept her story. “My mother’s sleeping right now.” He said “You can speak to her in the morning; you can use that room there.” He gestured towards one of the sealed rooms, opposite his and likely reserved for one of the siblings the kingdom was hoping to receive.

“As you wish, I don’t have a fungal stone after all.” The goddess said as she walked to the doorway. “Would you walk me in?”

A few minutes later after the prince had left content that she was trapped within the borrowed chambers, Anamara was finally left alone. He was an issue for latter though, Anamara disappeared once more in a cloud of darkness. She manifested once more in Valari-Calburayn, now with light hair and invisible to living mortals. “Who are you.” She demanded of the Mau Miaulin, a deity disguised as one of the feline species of this plane. “And by what right do you enter MY holy temple.”

[The Shrailleeni Empire]

"Your insight is correct," Purgem affirmed, "though truth is not absolute. This is my truth: Two of the elder ones, those who ordered all of Creation while the rest of us travelled, separated from the physical realm two ethereal realms that only we can inhabit. In doing so they hoped to curb the destruction of our conflicts."

"To each of these ethereal realms the lesser souls may journey upon death, and within each we gods have ordered to our liking. Some create hierarchies, some do not. Each portion of the Celestial Realm and the Underworld is as diverse as we who inhabit them, and infinite in space."

"But we have not given up the physical realm entirely. Though we are no longer lords of the planet, we continue to influence the physical world in all the ways that we can. I strive to merely guide the lesser souls, to help them better themselves. I oppose all who would interfere with this mandate. In truth, that is what drew me to you. Your aura is that of peace, at this time when the gods again stir to achieve the supremacy of their different visions over Creation."

[Of the Quendi]

Keep up monkey, I aint waiting. Those where the words Mau Miaulin uttered before ambling towards the exit of Anamara's mushroom temple. She supposed she should have expected to suffer the indignity that followed her remark. Hairless monkeys could always be counted on to be crude, primitive and brutish. Yet when it happened Mau Miaulin was nevertheless shocked. It was an unthinkable act of disrespect and a violation of Mau Miaulin the like of which she had not expected to experience. The hairless monkey, that dirty, filthy, pox-ridden excuse of a soul, had grabbed Mau Miaulin's tail.

Perhaps he had been scared to be left behind, perhaps there was some primitive impulse in the overdeveloped monkey brain that compelled this abominable species to grab hold of things when scared. Mau Miaulin knew not and cared less for the reasons. A bad day just got worse. She jumped, causing the monkey to loose hold of her. She turned, claws out and her long razor sharp teeth barred and hissed at him. "Lay your filthy monkey paws on me again and I will drag you to the hottest hell in the Underworld and torture you like a dog for a thousand eons." She hissed. The monkey fell to its knees in terror shouting inchoate apologies. Somewhat mollified by the obvious fearful contrition, but mostly just annoyed by the loudness of the hairless monkey's professions of repentance which hurt her ears Mau Miaulin hissed at him again. "Yes, yes, enough of that shrieking." Mau Miaulin declared.

As the primate quieted down Mau Miaulin began to lick the part of her tail he had touched profusely, desperate to get cleaned up. Feeling very sorry for herself to be saddled with the thankless task of tending to the souls of primitives the self-proclaimed queen of the cats looked very downcast, holding her head low with her ears kept flattened. Then Anamara appeared. "Civilized company at last." Mau Miaulin mumbled, but whether it was a sincere or sarcastic statement was difficult to tell. As with most things Mau Miaulin said.

Nevertheless the appearance of a fellow deity caused Mau Miaulin to cheer up a bit even if the words of the other god was far from welcoming. Letting go of her tail Mau Miaulin stretched before Anamara as the goddess demanded to know who she was and what she was doing in the temple. "You can call me Mau Miaulin, most do." Mau Miaulin responded to the goddesses first question. Her stretching done Mau Miaulin, despite the unwelcoming tone of the other goddess, sauntered calmly towards the deity. Though Anamara's appearance was much like that of a hairless monkey she was a deity and thus not unclean. Playfully Mau Miaulin rubbed her body against the leg of Anamara once and gave a purr. "I came for the monkey man over there." Mau Miaulin said. "Your folks killed him so now I take his soul to Lokarn in the Underworld." Mau Miaulin continued. "I meant to say thank you. The odeur was most ... pungent, when first your cultists started burning people. Now it smells much better, its very considerate, if killing and burning people is to become a permanent pastime of yours I much prefer to be without the stench." Mau Miaulin complimented the other deity.

[Trivolia]

       "Lester! Master Harold's tea is ready" said a rather timid looking, abiet strong voiced cook from the glamorus entrance of the dining room. This exitable chipper lad, at the simple age of twenty two, was one of he youngest kitchen workers within the manor, who also doubled as the newest hired; Jonathon has rested his head within the staffs quarters for only nine days. Though still energetic and happy, holding the naive posture of one who hadth yet to realize his entire existance would be spent as a beverage brewer, he waited paiently under the large and well crafter oak and silver entrance, branching off from the shifting and changing main area, it seemed the small palace was going through a transition. But as Lester came for the tray Jonathon thought to himself "alas, I know little" and it was true, as said transition began a night before his arival.
       Lester took the silver tray with utmost delacacy, the ease of a professional who had spent his last thirty six years working within Master Elizabeth, spent the fifteen years before that under her roof in training, he came from a long line of servers as Elizabeth had nobels. He knew her mother as well. Lester was greif stricken when, eleven nights before he watched as Elizabeth was burried in the royal garden. A heartattack, damn the stars she was too young. Lester recalls well though, her husband having passed three years beforehand, and the highly esteemed knight she had lay with in secrecy, for the past seven. Lester was indeed shocked when within her will, the manor amd all of its assets went to a gentleman he had never once laid eyes apon, wrote a letter to, nor see step foot within tne place before a few days ago; no, the stars had lied to him, or perhaps his own wit had a falacy of its own, for he was sure his next mastet would be that very knight.
      Briskly trotting his way through, an expierenced race horse on an unfamiliar track, Lester had most certianly noticed the big changes being made. For one, the quantity of the manor's residence has doubled, yes, this newly instated Master Harold had hired numerous new work horses for the track, a changing and expanding track called for more cattle one could suppose, because as Lester made his way up a large staircase he could hear the buzz from outside, worker bees expanding a hive, this new Master Harold had somehow (must have, right?) scraped up the large sum of wealth even before recieving the third wealthiest and largest manor within the feudal Kingdom of Azlaber, for he was expanding and rennovating such a manor. Changes were made within the palace as well, Lester had been keeping a keen eye as the walls shifted and floors moved, paintings replaced or simply sold off, mystical lamps of blue fire dotted the upper halls (perhaps Harold paid a wizard for them? Surely, but surely how?), statues of creatures littered perfectly around the place; perhaps the oddest change though was the giant looming statue now settling in the enormous walk in area. A work seeminly made of pure silver (surely, but BY THE STARS HOW!!! THE KINGS CROWN MUST BE WORTH LESS) of a hand holding a book, and engraved on the cover a simple shape, beholding four (perhaps generous, perhaps sinister Lester had first thought) four eyes.
      Lester scurried down the final corridor leading to the new Master's meeting chambers, "Such a lord must be religious" were his final thoughts as he neared the door, for the Master had been seen more than once with scrolls of his own writing, and when boldly asked by Lester a day ago, had proclaimed "Ahh servant, Lester was it? Im terribly sorry, I am quite forgetful with names, these are not my words but the words of the Exalted", then gently waved him away, content in his studies. Lester supposed he was without a god, no, he simply looked to the stars because quiet cloudless nights are when they shined brightest, and when he could do most of his reading, his thinking, his planning. He walked into the room, "Master Harold, your tea sir."
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And a large room it was, tall and mighty, as if it were carved out of the immortal belly of a titan, its walls were newly decorated with shelves of artifacts, of which Herald had discovered, no had been led to, by the Exalted One, the Exalted Exalibar. Herald was giddy as he sat in his chair, having finished stacks of writing, writing out orders to soldiers, both to the barracks on the grounds and to far away lands, orders also to shores and shops, trading centers, about assets and permissions. Oh yes he was giddy, almost childlike in mind; his tightly toned 5"8 body, inquizitive face and meaty hands could have been set on fire but he would have remained in the state of excacy. For appearing out of nowhere seemingly, his lord, his savior, his salvation. Selestia stood behind him, massaging his shoulders it seemed, and allowing her perfect locks of hair fall around him. Oh how he longed for her, but deeper beyond his primitive lust stirred obedience.
"E-Exalted One"
She smiled "You have done well Herald, Prophet of Truth, and I have blessed you as I promised"
"Yes, oh yes thank you mighty Exalted One, your blessings will not go to waste"
"I know Prophet, I know....it is almost time, for the Prophet to lead the sword, into the belly of the realm"
"Yes! Yesyesyesyes" He notices his grip loosening, then straightens himself out, quoting scripture implanted within his head " 'And when the sky sets on the sixteenthed day, the King's belly will rot with flies and the King's Highmen will fight amongst themselves, and the Prophet of the Exalted One will be crowned Emperor' "
"That is correct, loyal Prophet, and you must prepare...." She stops suddenly, Herald wonders what troubles her but hearing the thud from the other side of the door, he believes that within the Exalted Ones' infinite knowledge knew who was comming, and he knew it was Lester, as if she had inparted this knowledge to him (she had).
"I require sacrifice, the old servant's mind is strong and I shall have it" Selestia says, not a hint of any sinister tone or smile
"It will be done Exalted One" Herald finished, just as Lester walked in and Selestia dissapeared out of sight.
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Out of sight she may be, her eyes were able to watch the manor through the eyes of a jet black crow. A simple creature, and simple creatures were easy to posess, She watched most of her interests within the mortal realm through the eyes of animals. Though usually she would be working there herself, she herself only watched throuh this animaks eyes from the Underworld. "The pieces always fall together" she mutters, chuckling at her own work. Within the Underworld, far from the common grounds Exalibar has built their abode on a black, scorched plain of fire. A giant tower with many rooms, in christian religions a tower existed similar to this named Babylon. Selestia herself though, walked around the bottom floor, eyeing her most prized posession of all, The Cauldron of Souls. When she does not automatically reincarnate souls she stores them in this pit of hell within hell, like all souls before she reincarnates they have the ghostly appearance of their past selves, but the eyes are empty for Exalibar alters the soul and erases all memories. Exalibar held hundreds of thousands of souls. He/her sat themselves upon a throne looking over it, whilst thinking of the plan in action. Exalibar had chosen the Kingdom of Azlaber for their next ambitious expansion effort. It took years to get the prophet, Herald, into the manor, but will only take a few days to assemble the army of ten thousand (soldiers reincarnated to be inhumanly strong, ruthless, and obedient; like most of Exalibars armies they are killing machines, with efficient steel weapons and armor to top it off). Herald had been a travling shoe shiner, and his constant travel within the big cities of the kingdoms and some of the lesser manors made him a valuable asset, as out of him the worship of the Exalted One had already been picked up by commoners, some nobels, and would spread quickly when he (Herald) became king. The army would be lead by Herald to the capital to challenge the king. The high walls might have been enough to ward them, long enough for loyal manors to aid with their soldiers in repeling the invaders, but thanks to the tainted meat fed to the king (for the hunters had been getting easy kill, those animals had been picked by Exalibar to practically run into the range of the royal hunters range) the king would be plauged with literal insects buzzing within him. The army of seven thousand though, would be under the command of three competent captians, except as also said, they would fight themselves, as Exalibar had taken control of one. The army will be fighting to put down a rouge captian and his portion of the army. Exalibar smiles, and this time it is sinister. Perhaps four thousand would be left, if they were lucky. They could have had twenty thousand though, and the perfectly crafted army would still defeat them. By the end of the battle Herald will instate himself as king, the realm will swear loyality to him, and the Kingdom of Alzaber will begin fully adopting the worship of The Exalted One.

[Ah-eh-ioh-uh]

The humming one listened to him speak and metaphysically raised his eyebrows. Such information was useful. It also gave him good insight on his brother's world view. If he could blush in flattery he would have, hearing his brother say he was fond of his emanations. The feeling pulsed through his being.

"Yes I feel it even now" he agreed, refocusing on the more serious topic.

"The different members of our kind are each striving towards their own goals" he noted as he felt the sinister death of many human beings from the mortal plane.

"I find that not all of our kind's goals for the cosmos are to my liking and I wish I could understand what possesses them to harbor such cruelties" he noted, feeling safe in confiding such sentiments to his brother.

The humming one looks to the stars in sadness as he wonders at just WHAT his brothers and sisters were doing now. He was loath to ponder on what poor unfortunate souls had been victimized by the latest attentions of one of their kind. His brother could possibly feel such sadness in him at the thought. Whatever his brethren were doing on the mortal plane he certainly knew he wasn't a fan of it all.

[The Anarcho-Syndicalist Commune]

Lokarn

The twin pair of frozen stallions closed in upon the large walls of white marble that ringed around Holk, almost camouflaging the city against it's wintery backdrop. The gates themselves were made with a rich red wood that popped against the white backdrop. A ramshackle town of peasents had assembled themselves against the wall, trying to find some respite from the harsh northern winter in the city. As they approached the town, the various noises of mortal business stopped when the various people noticed their approach. Ice spread across the carefully maintained road where the horses stepped, and several of the mortals shivered as they passed. Halfway through the town, an older man in armor stepped in front of them. Though he clearly wore the garb of a Paladin of one of the Divine Realm gods, he clearly worshiped the forest spirits of the tribes. The man simply said "No further Daemon. Holk is a city for the pure."

Lokarn watched her newest servant, her large... she hadn't named his species yet had she. Daemon would work nicely however. Her new Daemon... Lokain was a good name for him... Lokain bristeled with rage at the insult to his mistress. Lokarn heard what remained of his humanity screaming for him to join the old man, but Lokarn was good at torturing minds, and Lokain didn't even acknowledge the little voice. However before the Daemon could even react, Lokarn brought her hand forward, and with a flash of light and a whisper on the wind, the old man was no more, now essence for the Queen of Death.

Pushing her horse in front of Lokain's, the Unending's mind reached out and the masses of the ramshackle heard her terrible voice, reverberating as though the Earth itself was speaking to them, screaming at them within their own minds. Behold Mortals. Behold the power of the Unending. I am Lokarn and I am the true god of this world. All others pale in comparison to my true radiance. I am where you begin from, and I will be there at your end. I have chosen you as my people, for the rest of mankind has abandoned you to freeze before their gates, just as my kin once abandoned me to stagnate in the darkest corners of the Cosmos. I shall break down the gates of this city, and I will deliver it unto you. Those who do not wish to partake in the restructuring of the globe shall be brought to their knees like all of Creation.

Lokarn guided her horse forward, it's trail of ice seemingly spread over the whole town as the mortals recovered from direct conversation with an elder god. Soon however, a sizable mob had built up in the streets, following Lokarn like the loyal sheep they were. The group approached the large red doors to the city. Already some of the peasents were trying to break down the thing, with little success. Some of the city guard were throwing rocks from up on the wall itself. Quickly erasing them, Lokarn concentrated on the bigger feat. The gates to the city first grew hot, then began to glow white as Lokarn destroyed them in steps to decrease the energy she was giving off. Eventually collapsing into essence, Lokarn tapped into her true power as an Elder God, and used the essence to rewrite the mob around her. She watched as they morphed and screamed, before they howled with joy. There was no need to rewrite the minds of these ones, they were already loyal. The peasents took a moment to take in their new forms, muscular and surging with magical energy. The horns on their heads and their exotic skin colors, shades of deep red and orange, marked them from the inhabitants of the city. With a small hand gesture, Lokarn unleashed the Daemonic horde upon the city.

[Nova Corina]

Cyrion watched Holk burn. Of course, he had seen thousands of cities burn before, most of them from the wrath of the gods, so this was not special at all, especially with Holk, which was a city on a lump of ice, isolated from the rest of the world by sheer temperature. He noted the creation of these daemons in the infinite book. A new, powerful species created by the elder goddess of the Infernal plane was sure to play an important role in later events.
Deep down, however, a bubble of excitement began to grow within Cyrion. He was one of the only ones who knew of Lokarn's former power, and knew that the goddess emerging from the shadows of the Underworld might mean something significant indeed. Cyrion had been deprived of any truly interesting events for several centuries, with only petty disputes of gods and kingdoms to keep him occupied. Perhaps this would be something truly on an epic scale. But then again, perhaps not.