Bhakti wrote:One thing occurs to me, my divine siblings... He showed these children a full view of Nor Pupae. This means that we can get a very current picture of Nor Pupae by looking into their minds to see what they saw. I will share what is revealed to any who donate a DRP to the process. The more DRP's, the better the picture we will see.
I might add that the area has changed greatly since then.
Perhaps.
And perhaps not.
Anybody want to find out?
I am the self-fulfilling prophecy. Give love, and you WILL receive love. Let your every answer, your every action and reaction, your every desire, be rooted in love.
The three walked down the cobblestone streets of Sanctuary, the grit of the streets making a grinding sound beneath their boots. Their presence commanded attention. The first, A large man 6' 5", muscular weighing 320 lbs; he appeared to be in his early 40's, but his steel grey eyes conveyed an ageless experience in dealing death. The other, MASSIVE, 6' 11", at least 400lbs of muscle and fury, with COLD expressionless blue eyes ... they were empty ... no, not empty ... emotionless ... with a hunger that burned. And then there was the woman ... petite, shapely, 5' 4" with short brown hair. From a distance, an observer's first thought was how youthful she was. They wondered what such a woman was doing with two such imposing men. And then, as the trio drew close, all such thoughts were banished ... by an ice cold fear that spread from the pit of the observer’s stomach to the tips of their extremities. The sword strapped to the woman's back looked vicious! It conveyed its ability to kill in one stroke in the emanations of its undeath origins. And her eyes, "oh my gods, protect me", most observers thought. Her eyes conveyed CHAOS and DESTRUCTION ... and she had an aura that made the men beside her look small; insignificant in comparison. A glance from her made many men loose control of their "bodily functions."
They had come to Sanctuary, at their Lord's command ... looking for allies. Those who were strong enough of will and character to fight by their side. They approached the door of the Blue Tankard. Patrons leaving gave the trio a wide berth. Others, who were headed to the tavern, seemed to decide they had other places to be.
The worn oak door of the tavern was pushed open, and Shivada FIRST of the FAVORED, Astroth second only to Shivada, and Kalpa Prophet of Lord Astavystataa Kadna, God of CHAOS and DESTRUCTION walked into the tavern.
Shivada took in their surroundings. The stained floor strewn with nutshells ... potential exits other than the front door ... and patrons that could pose a problem. A faint smile came to his lips, he liked problems. Kalpa had kept them on a close leash; he felt the need to stretch unused skills. Most of the patrons averted their eyes as he gazed at them ... except one ... he sat in the corner by the fireplace. To the unobservant, he was lost in his own thoughts. But Shivada was far from unobservant. This man watched the trio with neither fear nor aggression in his eyes. He waited. Shivada tensed, ready for whatever move the warrior might make, grudgingly aware that it would be a good fight.
Kalpa looked for the barman ... patrons almost fell over themselves to move out of her way as she approached the bar. Spotting an overweight man across the bar, sweat beading down his grimy brow, Kalpa spoke. "Barkeep." Her voice was soft, melodious, but with a touch of chaos and echoes of destruction in its tenor. As light as it was it demanded obedience. The barman stuttered, "Ye ye es, M'lady ... what can I do for you?" "We are seeking a favored of Mithyaat Vam, where is he?", she inquired, softly ... and with an overwhelming compulsion that demanded obedience. "I don't rightly know, Mistress. My name's Erl. I'm just the barman here. I don't bother nobody. I certainly don't ask any questions. I just .... Would you like ....", Erl's babblings faded in her direct gaze. "Perhaps that gentleman by the fireplace ... he looks like one of your kind, meaning no disrespect M'lady." Erl's head bobbed in his attempt to be agreeable, and sweat poured even more profusely off his forehead.
But Kalpa had already dropped her attention from the barman, and swung it to the identified man. Her pulse quickened slightly as she saw him. She knew in an instant that he was no weak minded fool. He would not fawn or fumble or fear them. She smiled ... this was the man their Lord had instructed them to find. She knew him on sight, could feel the aura of power around him from across the room. Perhaps he would give battle. Eagerness quickened her breath. If it came to blows, he would die well though she would regret having to kill him.
The trio moved over to the solitary man. He hadn't moved since they’d arrived. But his gaze drew up ... he looked directly in each of their eyes. Absolutely no fear ... but no aggression either. Shivada was almost disappointed. "Who are you?" Astroth barked in a deep, gravelly voice.
"Heel your dogs, Kalpa; I’m a bit scrappy before I’ve had my dinner." Seura said quietly. He smiled at the staunch self-control of practiced assassins. Only the smallest tics at the corners of their eyes, the slight, almost imperceptible flexing of muscles in their hands belied their impulse to draw weapons. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this little visit?”
“To the whim of my Lord Kadna, Kortralian,” the woman spat, “and my good graces. Are you First Sword to the Prophet of Mithyaat Vam?”
He put up his hands in mock surrender. “I am he. Give battle or sit down and drink,” he patted the seat beside him and winked at Kalpa, “either proposition suits me.” A strangled growl came from Astroth’s throat and Shivada flicked his wrists and felt the hilts of his knives slide down his arms and into his hands. Kalpa felt a thrill in her gut and couldn’t tell if it was excitement at the thought of burying her sword deep in the man’s heart or something more carnal. She shrugged and pursed her lips.
“Tonight, we drink with you. Tomorrow, who can say?” she quipped and sat down in the chair across from him. Astroth and Shivada also took chairs and Seura motioned for Erl to bring a pitcher of ale and 3 more glasses.
“We have been sent by our Lord to treat with you.” The slight woman had the darkest eyes he’d ever seen and Seura was immediately aware of the chaos behind them. Not like the deep calm of Murah though equally enticing. “This is Shivada and...” He cut her off.
“I know who you are, Kalpa. What could your Lord possibly want with me? I am the servant of my goddess and await word from the Prophet. Do you have news for me?”
“I do. It seems there was a bit of a scuffle. Astroth here was sent on a mission in the Immerilian desert. Murah sent agents to stop him claiming her Goddess so commanded. He killed them. He did not know of our Lord’s wishes in the matter at the time and only did what he felt he must to defend himself. We...regret the incident.”
Seura sat back and turned first to Shivada and then Astroth, assessing the situation. Shivada’s passion for violence was plain on his face but the giant had nothing behind his eyes. Nothing at all. He reckoned he could take one of them out and seriously injure the other before Kalpa killed him. And how many witnesses to that little scuffle would she leave in the Blue Tankard? None, he thought, looking back at her tanned face. She did not blink nor avert her gaze. She looked like a young woman with a terrible secret.
“I don’t imagine you seek exoneration from me, Kalpa. Why have you come?”
“To offer alliance and a command in that alliance. Your legend grows Kortralian and we would have you at our...side.” She demurred somewhat and Seura registered a chink in her steely veneer.
“You are not ignorant, First Sword,” Shivada offered, “Eiren is on the verge of conflict. Why do you sit here drinking this Dwarrow piss while the Prophet of your Goddess raises an army? We offer you, and any you chose to bring with you, transport to Dusk. Murah will surely welcome her First Sword into the fray?”
“Bah,” Astroth growled, “he is comfortable here. He likes it. We should just kill him and go.”
“Our time is short here, Seura. What is your answer? My Lord commands me to give whatever assurance you require that we are here to ally with you only. We have no orders to kill you,” she said turning to Astroth and gritted her teeth, “and no wish to do so.” Astroth blanched somewhat. Seura was smiling when she turned back to him. Her eyes looked faceted like a thousand jewels in the firelight. He believed her. He had come to trust his intuition when dealing with these prophets. And hadn’t he already been thinking about going to Dusk? Arellos and Irvea were here in Sanctuary and could open the warren for him. He had, in fact, already hinted to Jameak that he would not be in the city much longer.
“I am allied already with Lord Adamorn’s prophet Jameak, Kalpa. I will not see him or his people harmed in any way. You should know this before you ask me to your little fete.”
“War is not a party, Seura, as I assume you know. We will speak with Jameak as well if Our Lord commands us. For now, your alliance with him does not inhibit our need for your sword. We desire honor and justice in battle no less than yourself. What say you? Will you travel with us to Dusk to speak with the Prophetess?” Kalpa sat back in her chair and drained her mug. He watched her throat as she swallowed. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and spat. “Dwarrow piss. Is there wine in this stink hole?”
“I do not need transport. My people open the Warren of Dreams for travel. We may travel 300 leagues in an hour’s time. You may come with me or meet me in Dusk at your leisure. I will be there by sunrise tomorrow.”
“We have means of travel much swifter.”
“Yes but I’m not willing to go that road, your Holiness,” he said, and winked at her again.
The corner of her lip twitched. It might have been the beginnings of a smile. He rose and stuck out his hand to shake hers and both the men were on their feet before he could blink. He had the distinct impression that he’d startled them and their knives were pointed at his belly.
“I must go to the city center for my friends. Will you meet me there inside the hour? We will be at the Delegate’s housing. Ask for Arellos.”
“We will see you there in three quarters of an hour.” She rose and the three preceded him to the door. He heard Shivada ask as they walked away “What exactly is this Warren of Dreams, your Grace?”
While we await the Turn results, here slowly are what happened to the rest of the Hatching candidates, sent by other deities...
Drahmin
The rush of feet and wings and excited voices was diminishing now. Drahmin regarded the tumbled sands, littered with spent shells and drying membranes, with something approaching disgust. Never one to rely on fate when strategy was called for, all the same he felt like he’d been kicked in the gut. From his recent training with Master Kavi, he knew that dragons made no judgments, but had hoped one would be drawn by his keen intellect if not to his dashing good looks.
Now as he turned bitterly back toward the caverns, his mind fought to free itself from such disappointment and turn to weighing each possible move in the various scenarios he foresaw. Perhaps a strategic alliance with one of the Impressed candidates would improve his chances next time. Certainly steps would need to be taken to unify the new Riders and forestall any future attacks from what dark quarters soever they may come. He wasn’t really walking in any particular direction, but he gradually found himself in an unfamiliar region of the weyr. Lost in his thoughts of the future, he had foolishly neglected his present position.
He stopped abruptly. Being this distracted was itself a sign of how frustrated he was at not Impressing on the sands. The air in this corridor was less fresh and although the torches still burned, the entire area had the feel of disuse. He was concerned therefore, when he heard a scraping sound, like metal on slate. It seemed to be approaching the junction of another corridor just ahead, but he could see no sign of its source.
He moved forward cautiously, wishing he had spent more time in stealth training, but it appeared likely that he would soon learn more about the source of the sound whether he would or no. For just then, a massive shadow appeared on the far wall. Echoing as if from directly behind him, came a voice like the cracked leather binding on an ancient book.
“Well, are you going to crouch in the shadows or are we going to meet in the open? I can smell you and hear you from here.”
Drahmin nearly felt his heart stop. The voice had uttered the exact words he was thinking! Reluctantly, he drew himself to his full height and strode forward into the junction – a confrontation, when inevitable, must be decisive. Nothing could have prepared him, however, for what he now saw just to his left.
Hidden partly in the shadows of one of the corridors lay the wrinkled bulk of the oldest dragon he had ever seen, or at least the most worn out. It’s brown hide had yellowed in places, and was beginning to flake near the joints. The entire body gave the impression of having been once muscular but now the flesh hung in folds and the overall effect was one of fragility. A long scar above one eye ridge made it appear that the dragon was regarding him quizzically.
“You’re not much to look at, are you?”
“Will you stop that!!” Drahmin exploded before he could restrain himself. It was, afterall, his first experience with a telepathic creature, and he found it uncanny.
The dragon belched. “I suppose you would prefer a more linear dialectic. I had hoped for better, but I suppose even sequential conversation is better than the silence of stone.”
“Who are you?” Drahmin asked, feeling a growing sense of being in the presence of something quite large and mysterious.
“I am Cardamonth, but you can forget it. Everyone else has.”
“Is that why you stay down here?” Drahmin asked. “Why aren’t you on the surface, or in the skies with the other dragons?”
“The simple pleasures of my youth have long been denied me. I seek solace in secrets. Few know me; fewer still would follow me here. But yet, here you are.”
Drahmin felt as though the walls and ceiling of the cavern had retreated, and that he and Cardamonth had entered a large space. He wasn’t sure what was happening, but he didn’t think the dragon looked hungry. He was simultaneously intrigued and worried by the creature’s calm subtlety.
“Oh what times you and I shall have! The weyr is not enough. Why, I almost feel like I could fly!!”
Cardamonth was drawing closer, and Drahmin did not back away. As he gazed into the whirling eyes of this ancient creature, he felt himself falling into a mind of Byzantine complexity, and it felt like home.
The candidates who Impressed had mostly been human. Never mind the two fiends; she knew Melirelle always smiled on her own. But what was she to do now? It seemed useless to go back to endless training or to mingle with the others who seemed not to trust her anyway.
Onveia never understood those who took themselves too seriously, who were afraid to dance with the moonbeams or swing from the trees. She had come a long way and worked a long time, against her better judgment and the impulse of her fey nature, to try to fit in to this new dragon project. Now she stood on the darkening stands, unable to believe that it was all over.
She idly leapt on to a dune and looked among the shadows for an unhatched egg to rescue. But to no avail – nothing was visable except shards among shadows. The G-ddess’ blessing, it seemed, had succeeded only too well. Onveia snickered at her own pathetic desire, and decided to hunt among the newly hatched, but unattached in the dragon nursery.
Just then, something moved in the rocks just above and behind her. Although no human eye could have followed it, Onveia was gone. Never the less, the sound was repeated, closer this time. Blending carefully into the shadows where she had hidden a few meters away, Onveia was surprised to sense something hunting her. Reaching out with her empathy, she could detect no malevolence, only a snuffling intensity.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are! It’s a good thing I wasn’t looking at you, or I might not be able to find you. But I can do that too.”
There was a soft puff of air above her hiding place, and then a large green dragon head came down in front of her, upside down.
“I am Rheema, and you’re Onveia. We’re going to be good friends.”
“How did you do that? I never heard your wings.”
“That would be telling. You won’t get it.”
“By hook or by crook, I will.”
She had a feeling this was going to be an interesting and complicated friendship. But she didn’t hesitate at the next offer.
“Climb on to my back, little one. We’re going to go watch some guys.”
There was another soft ‘pop,’ and the sands were entirely shrouded in darkness.
Birdsong greeted the first violet shift of the velvety black sky as the warm breeze rolled in from a balcony where Phillipa de Monteforte stood clad only in a sheer slip. At first her long curls obscured her face, even as the tugging breeze suggested the rest of her. Then the breeze relented and beneath the curls a face twisted by grief slowly emerged. A night without sleep did not resolve any of the complications in her tangled thoughts, and the prospect of morning seemed unlikely to break the iron bands around her chest. She never expected to suffocate on her own unexpressed love, one that demanded an object, if not complete reciprocation. After all of the build up of the past few weeks training, and the stressful journey beforehand, to go home dragonless seemed an eternally cruel and irremediable fate.
The first blue lines had begun to detach from the far horizon, and on the ridge she could see dragons craning their necks and stretching their wings. Soon the unforgiving light would etch every crag in high relief, limning the weyr, even as it exposed her sorrow to her peers. The situation was impossible.
Throwing on a baggy coverall and a pair of thong sandals, Phillipa decided to walk the walls. Maybe an answer would suggest itself in the painted veins of the cliff sides of morning.
Out on the walls, the first forty minute walk had resolved nothing. The dew had settled in to her clothes even as the air was warming and her toes were beginning to chafe. It seemed she was merely substituting one form of discomfort for another.
Halting abruptly, she slumped down on to a flat rock, and drew her knees to her ears. How long she sat in this fashion she didn’t know but it soon became obvious that she was no longer alone. When a few moments of rude ignorance failed to drive away the interloper, Phillipa looked up. Anger was beginning to color the grief that clogged her heart.
“Who do you think you are watching me like this?” she said, whirling on her stalker.
“Who do you think you are, feeling sorry for yourself when there is a whole world out there waiting to submit to the crack of that whip you carry?”
“So I suppose you think you can show me.”
“I would suggest that you engage your will rather than indulging in this theoretical exercise of self pity. No dragon wishes to be burdened by a feeble or hesitant mammal. In fact, they’re hardly worth hunting. Get on my back and ride!”
Phillipa was angry now. And the increasing light, combined with her proximity to the huge green dragon, gave her indigo eyes a dangerous cast. Never one to be crossed, she sprang lightly up the two meters of flank that presented itself and was about to make a haughty reply, when the shock of contact both mental and physical, broke through the veil of her emotions and snapped the shackles on her soul.
Wolfgar de Grey cinched the straps on his pack and slung it over his shoulder. A few nights away from the hubbub of the weyr would clear his head and give him some perspective on what to do next. Of course he was disappointed not to find a dragon, and peeved that some lesser lights seemed to bond so easily. Still, it was a temporary set back and likely a new option would present itself upon the proper contemplation.
After an hour of steady walking he could no longer hear any of the weyrlings, or see any evidence of recent passings. The forest seemed undoubtedly rich in game judging by the sign, but nothing showed itself. A bit further on, Wolfgang noticed that things were becoming quieter. The trees were taller here and the scrub less dense. Soon it became impossible to tell where the sun was in the sky, as the shafts of light no longer penetrated all the way to the ground. When the path started to slope downward, he followed eagerly thinking to come upon a flowing water source. The vegetation was changing and eventually he could hear water rushing in the distance.
All at once, the path came to an abrupt end where a flood had eroded a riverbank. A long crumbly escarpment promised difficult passage to the river below, which was dotted here and there with broad beaches. On one of the broadest, nearest ones a large blue dragon was basking lazily. As a few loose stones fell away from the tips of Wolfgar’s boots, the dragon opened one eye and began to uncoil, revealing an absurdly long neck. He stretched and yawned widely.
Wolfgar stepped back in alarm at the site of those rows of teeth. But the dragon quickly reassured him.
“Hey, walking dude, don’t be afraid. There’s plenty of beach.”
Wolfgar wasn’t sure what to make of this invitation, but decided it would be impolite to refuse. Besides, he had never been addressed by a free roaming dragon, and this one seemed friendly enough. He scrambled carefully down the scree and sat on a rock a few meters from the dragon.
“I am Wolfgar, a major in the Jovian militia. Very pleased to meet you.”
“Greetings, Wolfish! You may call me Sketch. What brings you to this fine corner of the woods?”
“Well there was this Hatching, you see. There were hundreds of baby dragons everywhere…”
“And you didn’t get picked. Happens to me all the time. I’m always last for everything. But, that’s cool. It gives me more time to do what I enjoy.”
Wolfgar’s features indicated his encouragement.
“Well mostly I lie on the beach and chill or warm, depending on the weather and time of day. It’s so peaceful out here. But I have been looking”, Sketch continued reflectively, “for some buds to chill with, or just something to change the scenary. Like an adventure you know?”
Wolfgar thought about this for a minute and finally said, “I came into the forest hoping for a chance to plot my next move. But I suppose an adventure isn’t out of the question. What did you have in mind?”
“Awesome! Bur first you have to grok the fullness. Look at me – you are gonna love this!”
Wolfgar didn’t think it was possible to fall upward, but that was the only way he could have found himself straddling a dragon’s neck some three hundred feet above the forest canopy. Maybe Sketch was right.
Argothoth was in the center of his chamber of bone. The black flames of the huge brazier were crackling, strange shadows were painted on the skull face of the undead god.
"Once again, I am doing what no one did before! Valkoren, my prophet, I call you! Come and see what the power of necromancy can do."
He lifted a hand, and a shadow portal materialized in a corner of the large chamber. Valkoren stepped out of the shadows and bowed to his master.
"I'm here, my lord, Master of Darkness and Necromancy, ready to serve!"
Argothoth nodded.
"Rothgarh, your master is calling you, come and bear witness to the true power of undeath!" another hand rose, and from a gargantuan shadow portal which appeared in the center of the chamber, near the brazier, the immense corpse dragon stepped out with a mighty roar! A strange voice, formed by the union of hundreds dead voices, spoke: "Yes master, We are here to serve you, order and We will accomplish the task!"
Argothoth nodded again.
"And now, Veria and her heralds must come, to witness the greatest necromantic ritual ever held!"
Shadow started to whirl in a corner and one by one Veria and her heralds stepped in the chamber.
"Master, we are here in your name, speak the word and we will make it so!"
Argothoth nodded to them.
"I talked with almost all the gods of Eiran. They agreed to give me their power in order to do something that no one could ever imagine! Today, before your eyes, all the dead of Eiran will rise! In the name of Argothoth, in the name of the true undying power, they shall walk again! Thousands, or better, hundreds of thousands of undeads will born today, and they will spread all over the world in the name of their master!"
An ancient evil laugh erupted from the throat of the undead god. Power started to flow in his body, streaming from the dark brazier. The dark flow passed through the bodies of Valkoren, Rothgarh, Veria and then her heralds.The chamber started to shake, struggling to contain the overwhelming power of the gods. Pulsating energy limned Argothoth's ancient bones, and his body filled with unbelievable, corrupted divine power.
His prophets and followers groaned as pain, inflicted by necromantic energy, coursed through their bodies. But the ecstasy of the god ended in a dark column of pure necromantic energy that erupted from the brazier. The column teared up reality's veil and it slammed into the ground on the city of Ai-Skull. Suddenly the dark beam stopped and the energy roared no longer.
Nothing happened for a while.
Then suddenly a dark spot started to spread on the ground of the city, then on the ground of the lands near Ai-Skul, and so far. In a matter of minutes all Eiran was covered by the dark spot of necromantic energy. In the sky, dark, boiling clouds gathered with unnatural haste, covering Eiran in a pall of darkness; black lightning struck the ground, again and again, and ominous thunder echoed across the whole world. The earth shook, tombs exploded throughout Eiran's graveyards, and the dead started to walk again. In the oceans, dead animals started to swim again, all over the world corpses entered unlife!
The empty mouths of the dead whispered only a name : "Argothoth..."
----
Argothoth was on his knees. The ritual drained him of all his energies. He was barely conscious and he saw his followers lie on the ground. After a moment of confusion he realized that the dead of Eiran were leaving their graveyards. The God of the Undead laughed when he realized that thousands of followers were born!
Death is the threshold through which life eternal is reached.
Saving Eiran is the main reason for existing.
Embrace Death as the best means towards this goal.
The most powerful god in Eiran Pantheon 2.0
Divine Rank: 11
Total Worshipers and Prevalent Race: 2.411.443 (undead humans)
Of all the candidates who did not Impress on the Hatching Grounds, Raff seemed the least affected. When the festivities were over, he simply made his way to the kitchens, helped himself to a light supper, and retired to his quarters.
During the next day, he made it a point to congratulate the successful candidates and wish them good luck. This drew surprise and admiration from Master Kavi and some of the other longtime weyrfolk. As the afternoon wore on, Raff found himself drawn to the high ridge where the older dragons were accustomed to sunning themselves. His steps took him higher and higher and he always felt like there was more to see from the next promontory.
Finally he came to a large crag with a single occupant.
“I am Greneth. I do not share my perch.”
“I am Raff, and take up little room. But I will climb to another cleft if it disturbs you.”
“No, you were right. This spot does offer the best view. That’s why I come here whenever I get the chance.”
Raff regarded the large bronze dragon with interest. “Is this Talayeh’s perch, then?”
“Not normally. She’s usually too busy running the weyr or spending time with Raucous.”
“So it seems that you rule the roost, then.”
“Most days, but appearances can be deceiving. I have little influence over the important decisions.”
Something about Greneth’s tone struck a chord in Raff’s mind. Wheel’s began to turn, albeit slowly. “So nothing to complain about, then? You have all of the privileges and no responsibility.”
“Well, maybe not all the privileges,” Greneth hinted darkly.
Raff wisely let the matter drop. “Surely a mighty dragon like you gets what he wants? I can feel your charisma from here! Come, let’s reason together. I’m sure there is a way we can make this a win-win situation for everyone.”
Greneth warmed noticeably. Here are last was no monkey-faced boy, but someone you could do business with. He unfurled one wing, and indicated a seat under it on the ridge. As they gazed out on the coloring afternoon sky, there was a grimly amused expression on both of their faces. In this case, did the dragon choose the Rider? Or the Rider the dragon?
the perfect ritual is something of excelent, my sister.
The paradise i saw in my mind is finally real!
Indeed, my sister...
But tell me, who i have harmed?
I gifted the deads with eternal life... what else i can do?
Death is the threshold through which life eternal is reached.
Saving Eiran is the main reason for existing.
Embrace Death as the best means towards this goal.
The most powerful god in Eiran Pantheon 2.0
Divine Rank: 11
Total Worshipers and Prevalent Race: 2.411.443 (undead humans)
Death is the threshold through which life eternal is reached.
Saving Eiran is the main reason for existing.
Embrace Death as the best means towards this goal.
The most powerful god in Eiran Pantheon 2.0
Divine Rank: 11
Total Worshipers and Prevalent Race: 2.411.443 (undead humans)
Eternal (un-)life: the eternal potential for fear, pain and unhappiness.
I gave to the dead peace and comfort everlasting. How have you improved upon that by returning them to the world?
Ah, my Wife, I hope you are right. But I have my doubts. Argothoth, what role will Love play in a world filled beyond capacity by your Undead? I do not see that such a world would have need of me...
I am the self-fulfilling prophecy. Give love, and you WILL receive love. Let your every answer, your every action and reaction, your every desire, be rooted in love.
Perhaps I could remind you, Argothoth, of words you spoke a long, long time ago:
Shortly after he first came into the world, Argothoth wrote:Hail to All Deities! I would like to precise that no one of my followers would animate dead followers of any god. it seems to my eyes that another evil necromancer is doing that blasphemy. I will make him stop such heinous actions!
I would like to say , in addiction, that you are free to act however you wish against those evil beings, infact be an undead does not mean one is my follower. I invite all who want to stop those creature to join my actions against them.
Well replied brother, well replied indeed. 
