Pantheon 2.0 - Game Thread

[Benito Alvarez]

It will be GREATLY appreciated. Any such supplies would be best sent to Sanctuary. In that way tehy will be able to serve not only my people, but any others that come to Sanctuary for respite against damage caused by the earthquake.

My deepest thanks Jove.

[O-gon-cho]

Brother Simjen and Sister Hedra Iren,

I wish to express my joy at the reception your prophet and followers bestowed upon my own prophet. Would that my own followers will behave in a similar manner when they chance upon the stranger.

May I request I help light the way and calm the winds for the airships and boats as they transverse the great waters to show my appreciation? And, may I also request you to bestow further blessings and g-dspeed upon their journey in response to their honorable behavior?

My sincere gratitude and felicitations.

[Mistress Cathy]

Lord Adomorn, you are more than welcome.

It will be as you wish. The supplies will be sent to Sanctuary. My guild members are already there as are my priests so they will be able to facilitate the trading to the city and transfer the necessary funds for the war.

[stonemaybe]

Lord Adormorn!

I will do as you request, and also provide you with a diplomatic party of priests who will be able to respond in a more specific fashion to your requirements.

If you think I can help in any other watery way, please ask!

Undine

[stonemaybe]

Sister Norn!

Can I ask if you have any information on a new tear in the Weave of the World?

Brothers and Sisters, it seems that we have a gatecrasher in Eiran! A jumped-up alien tadpole called Pourzoleh is making himself a nuisance off the coast of Landir.

"a fiendish aquatic lord of great horror and power", he is introducing alien monsters of the deep to Eiran's waters.

Thankfully, I've just got my followers organised and arranged to my liking, so I'll be having a little competition with this Pourzoleh in the next few turns, no doubt. I may be asking a few of you for your expertise in various fields to help out, and in the meantime if anything fishy happens to any of your shipping, please don't blame me!

Undine

[Norn]

New tear? The All-Father must have omitted to inform me of such a thing. Where may this new tear be found?

[stonemaybe]

Sister Norn!

I asked, because I'm not sure it is a tear. A 'portal' has opened, near Landir, although I don't know yet if that is north or south, east or west.

Undine

[Norn]

Most likely a portal as they are not as easy to detect due to the lack of violence in their creation. I will inquire of the All-Father.

[Argothoth]

My dear Mithyaat,
i think that it is the right moment to show to all our brethrens how big is my love for you.

During this time i concealed my true emotions, my feelings and what my cold heart has inside.
I love you, milady. You are present in my dreams in my thoughts in every moment. Your eyes are my light, your breath my air. I can feel love once more again. I never thought that i can feel love again. But your presence, your beautiful fill me inside, in the deep of my immortal soul.
But i fear now, i fear that you can refuse my love. I'm so different from you, but my heart is true, and my feelings too!
I must gather all the courage that i capable to ask you that question:

Would you like to marry me?
We can stay together for the eternity and take our place among the stars, looking the world in harmony and happines.

Pleas don't hurt me! Please answer yes to my question!

[stonemaybe]

Sister Tsaloga!

I predict that my special forces teams will be taking part in The Hunt soon. Can I count on your blessing as Goddess of Hunting?

*bows*

Undine

[Bhakti]

Ah, my brethren! The time has come at last. I have opposed the suffering of the world, and was insufficient in the face of it. And so I claim my place, my true role, destined since my arrival in this world.
I am Maeror, Lady, Healer. I am the easer of suffering, the caretaker of the living.
I am the Mother; I am Life.
May I now suffice to meet the needs of this world.

I believe Eiran has just taken a step closer to becoming a paradise. Well done, Maeror!
*bows*

[Xar]

He sat on a throne of bones, in an ancient and dusty room. Even the ever-present spiders and insects, harbingers of decay, had long since died, and not a living being remained within the vast halls he had claimed as his dominion.

He had been sitting on the throne of yellowed bones, many of them taken from the foes he had slain, for countless centuries. But if there was one thing he did not lack, it was time. The endless waves of eternity crashed against him, but could not bend him; he had seen stars rise and fall, and remembered the land as it had been before the Breaking, before the Godswar.

Before the Fall.

No sound echoed across the dusty halls, strewn with bones; but the silence suited him. Only a set of footsteps marked the dust of centuries in front of the throne he himself had built; in time, those footsteps too, would fade, and the Hall of the Dead would return to its pristine, dark splendor.

But as he sat on the throne and thought, and cast his mind beyond the boundaries of the world, into realms of thoughts denied to any mortal, and even most of the gods themselves - as he pondered questions which could not be put into words, as he had done for millennia - he dedicated the smallest shard of his mind to pay attention to the events of the world of Eiran.

He had set events in motion, which only now had given results; but the results had been worth the effort. Even godly prophecies could be thwarted, if one but could see beyond the constraints of time, and play mortals like pawns on a board. His ignorant pawns had taken the one he had sought, and had claimed him for both worlds; and in turn, whispered rumors had led this tormented one to the place where thousands of years of planning would reach fruition.

His mind went back to the Godswar.

He remembered the chaos, and the tide of evil that had spread from the north. He remembered the earth shuddering and cracking, and hundreds of thousands dying in the cataclysm, all because the god of Malice had decided to strike, and all other gods - save one - had been unprepared.

Thus had begun the Godswar, and divine blood had fallen upon the shattered Eiran like a rain. Mortals had seen that gods, too, could die - and how many had indeed died, before the War was over?

He remembered the fall of Amplarx, the god of Protection and Honor. Interesting that a new god had arisen, claiming similar duties for himself, but perhaps the cycles of the world permitted no other choice. Amplarx had stood against the God of Malice, ready to give his immortal life to protect the world and his fellow gods; he had been empowered by his allies, but Malice had been too strong, its clutch had delved too deep. The skies had wept blood and had darkened that day, when Amplarx's godly corpse fell from the sky and slammed onto Eiran, cracking the land even further, and leading mortals to believe that the Endtimes had come.

The God of Honor had died there, on the land of the world he had tried to protect. A valiant effort, but futile against Malice's evil; his sword had shattered, his gleaming shield had broken, and his allies could do nothing but watch, horrified, as the light in his eyes vanished... as they realized they were looking at the fate in store for them.

He remembered how the gods had banded together, hampered by the need to provide for their own worshipers; Nephirthos's malice spread across Eiran, and even as the gods had to expend their power protecting their people, each death among their own diminished that same power, and strengthened Malice. Ordine Naturale had fallen then, struck from behind by the god of fiends; Morgath had gorged upon immortal flesh, and unleashed his demons to savage and rape the broken world. Chaos had spread like wildfire, and both he and the god of Malice had grown stronger and stronger, despite the efforts of other gods.

He remembered the coalition of gods which had met Nephirthos and Morgath in battle... Toringian, Atharidan, Movahl; strong, but not strong enough to withstand their power. How many gods had died that day? He remembered the exile of Maeror; the god of healing had tried to undo the damage dealt by Nephirthos, but his power had waned, and Nephirthos and Morgath had spoken an interdictum, casting the god into the Outer Darkness for an entire Age.

Other gods had disappeared after that event. Had Bhakti died as he had expected, at the hands of Nephirthos? Or had he been banished, like Maeror? No one had ever discovered it.

It was one god - his god - who had turned the tide of battle. Argothoth had feigned friendship with Nephirthos and Morgath, but when all seemed lost, he had undermined their power, and allowed the remaining, beleaguered gods to strike back. Elauradaneth and Avatar died then, sacrificing themselves to avoid the utter victory of Nephirthos and Morgath; their power was too great to be destroyed, but they could be stopped. During the Sunless Time in which darkness had enveloped the world, and the cries of the dying mortals had joined with the cries of dying gods, Nephirthos had been cast out of Eiran, banished himself to the Abyss beyond the Outer Darkness, and Morgath had been imprisoned, hopefully forever, where he could no longer harm the world again.

But then... the gods had betrayed Argothoth, called him a traitor, despite his actions to help them; he had been weakened by the rage of Nephirthos and Morgath, and even more during the battle when the two dark gods had been exiled; and Solus and Thyddian, the only two deities left from the great Pantheon of Eiran, had taken him as he rested to recover his strength, entombed him in a prison from which escape was seemingly impossible, even though Argothoth's struggle had slain Thyddian in the process. Then, grief-stricken and horrified, weakened and wounded, the Last God - Solus - had retreated far from Eiran, seeing at last that mortals needed a time of peace, a time in which no gods would try to interfere with the rebuilding of the shattered world.

And for centuries, and then millennia, so it had been. And throughout all this time, he had sat on his throne, pondering the treachery of the Old Gods, and how to restore his lord to power.

He had finally seen the flaw in the divine interdict, and exploited it; the hapless scholar had believed himself cruelly tricked by fate, but it had been an unliving hand which had chosen that fate for him. It had been an undying voice which had whispered rumors in his ear, as he fitfully slept, suggesting he seek out the lost Tomb of Argothoth. Even the ancient tome Valkoren had discovered had been planted there by the one who had crafted that fate. And all had worked perfectly, and Argothoth had been restored to the world, the last of the Old Gods. What mattered if Maeror had returned - changed and wounded in his spirit by the long exile - or if Bhakti had begotten a son? There was only one Old God left - Argothoth himself, and no other.

He sat on the throne, and he looked at the parchment he held in his skeletal hand. The time had come to abandon the Halls of the Dead, return to the world of Eiran, and kneel once more before his old Master, as he had done countless times before. And so he stood, letting the dust of millennia fall from his skeletal frame; his bones were yellowed with time, but stronger than the strongest steel. Fiery pinpoints of light burned in his eye sockets, and every bone of his body was carved with runes of power and glyphs of might. And within himself, a familiar feeling stirred, as he walked out of the Halls of the Dead, into the world above...

[stonemaybe]

He sat on a throne of bones, in an ancient and dusty room. Even the ever-present spiders and insects, harbingers of decay, had long since died, and not a living being remained within the vast halls he had claimed as his dominion.

He had been sitting on the throne of yellowed bones, many of them taken from the foes he had slain, for countless centuries. But if there was one thing he did not lack, it was time. The endless waves of eternity crashed against him, but could not bend him; he had seen stars rise and fall, and remembered the land as it had been before the Breaking, before the Godswar.

Before the Fall.

No sound echoed across the dusty halls, strewn with bones; but the silence suited him. Only a set of footsteps marked the dust of centuries in front of the throne he himself had built; in time, those footsteps too, would fade, and the Hall of the Dead would return to its pristine, dark splendor.

But as he sat on the throne and thought, and cast his mind beyond the boundaries of the world, into realms of thoughts denied to any mortal, and even most of the gods themselves - as he pondered questions which could not be put into words, as he had done for millennia - he dedicated the smallest shard of his mind to pay attention to the events of the world of Eiran.

He had set events in motion, which only now had given results; but the results had been worth the effort. Even godly prophecies could be thwarted, if one but could see beyond the constraints of time, and play mortals like pawns on a board. His ignorant pawns had taken the one he had sought, and had claimed him for both worlds; and in turn, whispered rumors had led this tormented one to the place where thousands of years of planning would reach fruition.

His mind went back to the Godswar.

He remembered the chaos, and the tide of evil that had spread from the north. He remembered the earth shuddering and cracking, and hundreds of thousands dying in the cataclysm, all because the god of Malice had decided to strike, and all other gods - save one - had been unprepared.

Thus had begun the Godswar, and divine blood had fallen upon the shattered Eiran like a rain. Mortals had seen that gods, too, could die - and how many had indeed died, before the War was over?

He remembered the fall of Amplarx, the god of Protection and Honor. Interesting that a new god had arisen, claiming similar duties for himself, but perhaps the cycles of the world permitted no other choice. Amplarx had stood against the God of Malice, ready to give his immortal life to protect the world and his fellow gods; he had been empowered by his allies, but Malice had been too strong, its clutch had delved too deep. The skies had wept blood and had darkened that day, when Amplarx's godly corpse fell from the sky and slammed onto Eiran, cracking the land even further, and leading mortals to believe that the Endtimes had come.

The God of Honor had died there, on the land of the world he had tried to protect. A valiant effort, but futile against Malice's evil; his sword had shattered, his gleaming shield had broken, and his allies could do nothing but watch, horrified, as the light in his eyes vanished... as they realized they were looking at the fate in store for them.

He remembered how the gods had banded together, hampered by the need to provide for their own worshipers; Nephirthos's malice spread across Eiran, and even as the gods had to expend their power protecting their people, each death among their own diminished that same power, and strengthened Malice. Ordine Naturale had fallen then, struck from behind by the god of fiends; Morgath had gorged upon immortal flesh, and unleashed his demons to savage and rape the broken world. Chaos had spread like wildfire, and both he and the god of Malice had grown stronger and stronger, despite the efforts of other gods.

He remembered the coalition of gods which had met Nephirthos and Morgath in battle... Toringian, Atharidan, Movahl; strong, but not strong enough to withstand their power. How many gods had died that day? He remembered the exile of Maeror; the god of healing had tried to undo the damage dealt by Nephirthos, but his power had waned, and Nephirthos and Morgath had spoken an interdictum, casting the god into the Outer Darkness for an entire Age.

Other gods had disappeared after that event. Had Bhakti died as he had expected, at the hands of Nephirthos? Or had he been banished, like Maeror? No one had ever discovered it.

It was one god - his god - who had turned the tide of battle. Argothoth had feigned friendship with Nephirthos and Morgath, but when all seemed lost, he had undermined their power, and allowed the remaining, beleaguered gods to strike back. Elauradaneth and Avatar died then, sacrificing themselves to avoid the utter victory of Nephirthos and Morgath; their power was too great to be destroyed, but they could be stopped. During the Sunless Time in which darkness had enveloped the world, and the cries of the dying mortals had joined with the cries of dying gods, Nephirthos had been cast out of Eiran, banished himself to the Abyss beyond the Outer Darkness, and Morgath had been imprisoned, hopefully forever, where he could no longer harm the world again.

But then... the gods had betrayed Argothoth, called him a traitor, despite his actions to help them; he had been weakened by the rage of Nephirthos and Morgath, and even more during the battle when the two dark gods had been exiled; and Solus and Thyddian, the only two deities left from the great Pantheon of Eiran, had taken him as he rested to recover his strength, entombed him in a prison from which escape was seemingly impossible, even though Argothoth's struggle had slain Thyddian in the process. Then, grief-stricken and horrified, weakened and wounded, the Last God - Solus - had retreated far from Eiran, seeing at last that mortals needed a time of peace, a time in which no gods would try to interfere with the rebuilding of the shattered world.

And for centuries, and then millennia, so it had been. And throughout all this time, he had sat on his throne, pondering the treachery of the Old Gods, and how to restore his lord to power.

He had finally seen the flaw in the divine interdict, and exploited it; the hapless scholar had believed himself cruelly tricked by fate, but it had been an unliving hand which had chosen that fate for him. It had been an undying voice which had whispered rumors in his ear, as he fitfully slept, suggesting he seek out the lost Tomb of Argothoth. Even the ancient tome Valkoren had discovered had been planted there by the one who had crafted that fate. And all had worked perfectly, and Argothoth had been restored to the world, the last of the Old Gods. What mattered if Maeror had returned - changed and wounded in his spirit by the long exile - or if Bhakti had begotten a son? There was only one Old God left - Argothoth himself, and no other.

He sat on the throne, and he looked at the parchment he held in his skeletal hand. The time had come to abandon the Halls of the Dead, return to the world of Eiran, and kneel once more before his old Master, as he had done countless times before. And so he stood, letting the dust of millennia fall from his skeletal frame; his bones were yellowed with time, but stronger than the strongest steel. Fiery pinpoints of light burned in his eye sockets, and every bone of his body was carved with runes of power and glyphs of might. And within himself, a familiar feeling stirred, as he walked out of the Halls of the Dead, into the world above...

Announce and introduce yourself, Sir!

A new Pantheon has evolved on Eiran, are you Friend or Foe?

Undine

[Benito Alvarez]

:EDIT:

One needs to look closer to certain passages and you'll see who this is, though we have seen the actions in both our world and the mortal world, the face has yet to be seen, untill now.

It was one god - his god - who had turned the tide of battle. Argothoth had feigned friendship with Nephirthos and Morgath, but when all seemed lost, he had undermined their power, and allowed the remaining, beleaguered gods to strike back.

And for centuries, and then millennia, so it had been. And throughout all this time, he had sat on his throne, pondering the treachery of the Old Gods, and how to restore his lord to power.

He had finally seen the flaw in the divine interdict, and exploited it; the hapless scholar had believed himself cruelly tricked by fate, but it had been an unliving hand which had chosen that fate for him. It had been an undying voice which had whispered rumors in his ear, as he fitfully slept, suggesting he seek out the lost Tomb of Argothoth. Even the ancient tome Valkoren had discovered had been planted there by the one who had crafted that fate. And all had worked perfectly, and Argothoth had been restored to the world, the last of the Old Gods. What mattered if Maeror had returned - changed and wounded in his spirit by the long exile - or if Bhakti had begotten a son? There was only one Old God left - Argothoth himself, and no other.

He sat on the throne, and he looked at the parchment he held in his skeletal hand. The time had come to abandon the Halls of the Dead, return to the world of Eiran, and kneel once more before his old Master, as he had done countless times before. And so he stood, letting the dust of millennia fall from his skeletal frame; his bones were yellowed with time, but stronger than the strongest steel. Fiery pinpoints of light burned in his eye sockets, and every bone of his body was carved with runes of power and glyphs of might. And within himself, a familiar feeling stirred, as he walked out of the Halls of the Dead, into the world above..

Veria is here. Given life by the worship of the God of the Undead, though I throw no accusations his way because no direct connections have been drawn yet, there can be no denying that Veria has arrived finially, for good or ill. Though I think the latter. We have seen Veria's actions in our world by the cronies the Hand and the Herald, but now their leader has come. Vadhaka and I stand at Rajas against his forces, and should fate smile on us, our problems will vanish quite quickly.

However, one does not survive long as a God without preparing for all possible outcomes, and now I advise my Brothers and Sisters to keep in mind that a being that survived the Godwars will not go down easily.

[Astavyastataa Kadna]

How long?

The eons passed since the Alpha; since creation gave way to order. The light! how I hated that joyous burst and incandescent structuring of reality. I railed against creation. I am Chaos and Destruction ... and I destroyed. The death of stars! NOVA!! Carnage. My power was infinite and I used it with abandon!! Alas, I was betrayed!! Sister order - creation; you used me! With each star destroyed ... hydrogen fused; higher elements formed ... you used me to fuel creation further!!!

And so I wrapped the winds of chaos and destruction around me and slept. Withdrawn from the cosmos ... except for emanations of my power ... that seep across dimensions ... accessible by the sensitive. I await for the Omega; when sister order - finally rests - and destruction rules again!

But wait!!

I am woken. Is it time? No! Creation is still ascendent. What has brought me back to this reality? I sense a drain! Who DARES to draw the power of chaos. I extend my consciousness into the cosmos again. And follow the lines of chaos. Interesting. Much has changed ... how LONG have I slept!!

Eiran ... what is this place? I slowly stretch out my consciousness to one orb of the countless infinte. ARRRGGG!!! ORDER!! I find myself constrained ... smaller than I was before ... a thought echoes in my mind: "Brother, it is not yet time ... the Omega is eons hence ... and I have dominion yet. But you have been touched; by one who should dare not the Primes. You may seek recompense - but are constrained within the bounds defining these minor deities" And then she was gone. The music of her order in my mind; shaping my power; structuring this incarnation of my being. Power infinite denied ... but CHAOS and DESTRUCTION enough!!

************************************************************

She had just crossed the norther border. A breeze wafted across the desert of Landir, blowing gently thru Stavesta's hair. She is 33 years old, but looks much younger ... and that has gotten her into trouble! "It is not my fault!", she announced to the breeze as she thought back to her earlier conversation with her guild master.

Stavesta is battle hardened, trained since infancy for her trade and is better at it than most. With blade, rope, wire, or hands, she can kill a man, several men in fact, before their sardonic grins are fully formed. Even still, her guild master told her that the council is considering her expulsion. "You cause problem!", Dar Vastree explained. "I know it is not your fault, but they way you look ... adversaries don't take you seriously! When they should fear us they are laughing!! Granted, their laughs stop, usually when you separate their heads from their bodies; but that's too much carnage. Part of our job, part of our duty, in these times, to those that hire us is to convey an image that PREVENTS fighting. You ATTRACT it!"

It was the early campaigns against the mountain tribes that helped Stavesta hone her killing skills. In those battles she learned forrest stealth. She moved unseen, unstoppable, she was like the breeze. If you knew she was there, you were dead. Interesting, she thought now: in those times, when I looked into the eyes of an adversary whose life was slipping away, what I looked like didn't seem to matter. But the times are different now, not open confrontation. The image of power was what mattered in todays more civilized times. "Bah!", she thought, "let them expel me! I will not be constrained!" Indeed Stavesta's need for destruction was almost primal.

Stavesta dropped to her knees in the hot sands. Her mind and soul sent a plea to the ether - her whole being cried out! "Who can understand the turmoil in my soul? Who can help me express it?!"

She was heard.

Reality splits; the order of the universe is rent. And from that malestrom; POWER unimaginable! A power to DESTROY stars, galaxies, ALL. And then ... curiuosly ... constrained! But power still! Stavesta was awed. And then blackness ... the desert is gone ... the word is gone ... all she feels is the Maelstrom!! "I hear you, daughter of my need. I am the OMEGA. And I too know the frustration of being constrained! CHAOS and DESTRUCTION!! We will teach this world to fear us!! And to fear our followers." And then, tidal forces; a feeling of Gravity so constricting Stavesta is almost crushed. A cosmic wail "NO ... It can't be!? Nephirthos is gone! He belonged TO ME!!" And then the pressure abates. "Yes ... I too know your frustration, my daughter. It will be addressed. As will mine. Those who should not, DARED to touch my power. Now we will show this world the TRUE meaning of chaos and destruction!"

And then translation. Pain unimaginable wracks Stavesta! Merging, transforming, power for CHAOS and an appetite for DESTRUCTION!! Then a voice, chaotic in her mind, but clear to her soul! "I am Lord Astavyastataa Kadna, and you are FIRST amongst all who will follow me, Arise Kalpa ... prophet of DESTRUCTION. We have much to do. This worlds inhabitants will tremble at OUR coming *a chucke* and its godlings will too!"

As Kalpa rose, she smiled. And turned back to her village. Yes she thought, home is a good place to start. And as she walked out of the desert, her appearance was unchanged. But the aura of DESTRUCTION that radiated from her would ensure that no one ever would take her lightly again.

[Vadhaka]

Hail Brother, hail and welcome to the Pantheon. *bows*

[Argothoth]

A new god is born! Hail to you brother !

[Mistress Cathy]

Welcome to the Pantheon, brother.

[Mithyaat Vam]

Astavyas! It has been long and long, brother! And what has brought you out of the dreams i have been gifting you for millenia?

[Benito Alvarez]

Welcome to the Pantheon, new Brother.

A word of advice? Discretion is the better part of valor. Watch closley where your "destruction" rains down upon others, for I will not take it lightly.