Best of Pantheon 2.0

[I'm Murrin]

I'm referring to what Syl talked about--directly interfering with divine influence. Using your power to affect what another person is doing with their power.

[O-gon-cho]

Hmm...OK.

[I'm Murrin]

(If I meant the other, I would not be planning to call my next post "Meddling", hehe.)

[O-gon-cho]

Ah...definitely OK then.

[Astavyastataa Kadna]

...the mechanics have never allowed subversion or even deflection of divine might...

A good example for the 'good guys' might be the deflection of Argothoth's movement of the time distortion.

[Fist and Faith]

Somebody deflected that? I thought it was a random event... Just something that went terribly wrong.

But I don't think that's what Syl's talking about. The distortion was up and running for a turn or two before it went haywire. Syl's talking about if someone messed with Argothoth's spell as he was casting it, during the actual creation of the distortion, so it came into existence as, say, a shower of pretty flowers.

[Astavyastataa Kadna]

Somebody deflected that? I thought it was a random event... Just something that went terribly wrong.

But I don't think that's what Syl's talking about. The distortion was up and running for a turn or two before it went haywire. Syl's talking about if someone messed with Argothoth's spell as he was casting it, during the actual creation of the distortion, so it came into existence as, say, a shower of pretty flowers.

That would be sooooo cool!!

[Fist and Faith]

I have a gift for these things.

[Bhakti]

I'm also rather fond of this:
kevinswatch.ihugny.com/phpBB2/viewtopic.php?t=11113

[Norn]

Somebody deflected that? I thought it was a random event... Just something that went terribly wrong.

That was me, or more specifically, my curse.

[Fist and Faith]

Sweet!!!

[O-gon-cho]

*posted with Hedra's permission and blessing*

As my Liege has commented on many an occasion, once started on a topic I tend to PM a lot. So for me to claim that one PM in all of my correspondence stands out is saying something. Yet for me...this one does.

It is written totally ~IC~. I no longer have my initial PM, but as soon as I wiped the tears away from my eyes upon the initial read through, this was put right away into my Savebox.

This is in response to me asking Hedra if I can access Simjen's domain of Fire once he was defeated by Nephirthos, without giving up one of my current four domans. Obviously, most of my moves for the rest of the Game were based upon this PM...

One choice is to give up a domain. If you need to access fire, I think you might ask yourself what your domains are doing for you and why you can't get what you need from them, taking a close look at which specific domain does the least for you. As you have undergone a transformation, it is perfectly understandable that your needs may have changed. For instance, you say that the ability of laughter is now beyond you. Are not music and laughter different expressions of the same truth?

Another option is to examine your domains and see how they might relate to fire. As I understand it (my husband would have known much more), the hottest flames on Eiran come from dragons. As their mistress, I see nothing preventing you from accessing it. Combine that with your mastery of air, the introduction of which causes things to burn, and you could create a flame to rival what my husband could have done.

Or to go back to the domain of music, there are many types of song. Songs of war, drinking, love, and grief (I know, for my heart sings one such now). Sing a song of fire. Make whatever you wish to use fire on vibrate with the very essence of it. After all, is not music created by the mundane moving rapidly, at a level beyond mortal sight, making the very air move in a pattern? And ask yourself, how is it that we gods hear. There is no 'air' in the godly realms. We hear things and speak to eachother over great distances, even through voids. Think what the power of music could do in such a medium. Not only does our power go to the very fundamental nature of things, but it can go beyond, doing whatever our imagination wills of it.

Thinking on this subject, it occured to me. What can stop Nephirthos? Or to approach it from a different angle, what has always allowed Nephirthos to succeed? My hypothesis is that it's the divided nature of Eiran and its gods. If the potential of Eiran is infinite (and I believe it is), then the combined strength must surely be greater than any single god, no matter how powerful. Indeed, as Kadna's myth explains, it is the gods who gain power from Eiran, not the other way around.

So how can all of Eiran be unified? O-gon-cho, I believe it can be done by you. Unite all of Eiran in song. Sing a song of Eiran and its will to survive. If Nephirthos seeks to break the world, then let the world break him. So long as the purpose isn't to benefit one god, I see no reason why your power (along with all of mine and anyone else who chooses to follow) could not act as a catalyst, drawing all the strength of Eiran for one purpose - its own survival. The principal is nearly identical with that of Law; the more universal the agreement, the less power it takes to enact.

Your role in this is especially important. First, your part in bringing Nephirthos into this world (of which, I do not blame you) thematically means you have a large part in removing him from it. Second, the nature of your struggle and how you overcame it, being born anew, is the perfect model of Eiran's plight. And last... Music has to be considered one of the weakest realms. But that only means it is more subtle. Just as gravity is the weakest form of energy, yet it effects the entire universe, which would fall apart without it. So does the stretch of your influence spread beyond what the most fearsome display of fire could match.

I think Nephirthos' baiting of you is in truth a guise to mask his fear of what you could do to him. He seeks to make you think you are weak. And the key to defeating any bully such as he is to make your greatest weakness into your greatest strength.

I beg of you, O-gon-cho, show your strength - to Nephirthos and the entire pantheon. I will support you.

[Astavyastataa Kadna]

You showed your strength!! We could never have had the impact of the SCREECH without your help!

[O-gon-cho]

I have already acknowledged the brilliance of the corruption of the Song, Astavyastataa Kadna. Now I am showing the beauty of what prompted the Song. The idea came from another who never claimed credit. And although putting it into action had unforseen circumstances, I believe s/he deserves the honor of being recognised for the imagination of the move as intended, and for the simple beauty of how the PM was written.

But, I guess for you to take any opportunity to gloat is to be expected. I would not expect different from you.

[Mithyaat Vam]

I have already acknowledged the brilliance of the corruption of the Song, Astavyastataa Kadna. Now I am showing the beauty of what prompted the Song. The idea came from another who never claimed credit. And although putting it into action had unforseen circumstances, I believe s/he deserves the honor of being recognised for the imagination of the move as intended, and for the simple beauty of how the PM was written.

But, I guess for you to take any opportunity to gloat is to be expected. I would not expect different from you.

wow! who's been taking haughty lessons from the WENCH!

[O-gon-cho]

Why, thank you sister.

[Argothoth]

the first show of power!

Your army is strengthened by the arrival of a Midnight Gem which is imbued with your powerful necromantic magic. The power condensed in the Midnight Gem is such that the Gem itself is changed, becoming far more powerful and retaining the necromantic spell within its depths, it becomes known as the Urn of Unlife. Adomorn's soldiers join yours in the campaign, and they seem to be distrustful of your undead, with several minor clashes between them and your followers being reported, although nothing serious happens. Your armies crashes against the false army of Maeror like a tidal wave, and each death strengthens your undead; the dead slowly gather together into the semblance of a corpse dragon, until sentience emerges within it, and it takes on the name Rothgarh for itself; its roar is deafening, and the fear it emanates is so powerful that no living being can stand it. Adomorn's soldiers are horrified by the dragon's "birth", and when Maeror's soldiers are routed, Adomorn's warriors eagerly run after them in hopes of getting as far away as possible from Rothgarh.

Turn 20

The dead of Eiran arise!
All over Eiran, the ground shakes and trembles, moaning as if suffering the pangs of birth. Mortals are frightened as the skies grow cloudy, and black lightning thunders above their heads, even as an earthquake unlike any other shakes their lands... the ground writhes, and all over, fear grips the hearts of the living as no sleep is undisturbed... not even that of the dead.
It begins slowly, with a fleshless hand emerging from a grave, pulling up its skeleton behind it; here, the victim of a murder, his blood still warm, suddenly lurches back on his feet and shakes off death from his mind; there, the corpses of brigands left to rot in the sun shiver, and slowly rise again, cold undeath in their veins. The ashes of diseased soldiers, burned to prevent the spreading of the plague, swirl together into a semblance of a specter, and a dragon embedded into a stone wall shakes itself free, horribly disfigured but filled with unlife; those buried in graveyards, old and new alike, rise again from their graves, and those whose corpses were destroyed still return, ghosts of their former selves. All over Eiran, the dead awaken, and crawl out of their tombs, their graves, their pits, heeding the call of Argothoth, the God of the Undead. But this is not all, for not only the freshly dead heed his call; no, the ancient dead come next, erupting from the ground on which cities now are built, shattering stone and sanity with their appearance, their screams and pains of unbirth filling the air with the moaning of countless living dead! All the way to the corpses of the First Age, no longer bone but hard stone, the dead awaken in the earth's womb, and hearing the call of their master, emerge from their sleeping places and into the world of the living! Creatures the likes of which have never been seen - the bones of dragons far larger than the greatest dragons alive today, monsters beyond imagining, and countless, countless humans - arise, and arise, and arise in endless waves, disgorged by the earth, vomited forth into the living world! All over Eiran - Olaern, Khenstorn, Landir, even Immeril and the lesser continents - mortals quake in fear and despair as the apocalypse unfolds, and the world as they knew it comes to an end: the bones of their loved ones, of their friends, of their enemies, of their ancestors and of creatures from their nightmares rise, filled with a new and horrid unlife, screaming to the skies where Argothoth's thunder calls to them... crawling, walking, flying or swimming, ALL those who ever died in Eiran - be they animals, humanoids or creatures of legend - awaken at Argothoth's behest, and the world - air, earth and water - is filled with their presence... LIVING DEATH HAS COME TO EIRAN!

The two seeded wombs give birth to another two wombs. You put one of them into another, and send them to the Fallen.

Aikul trembles, and its streets and buildings shatter as the dead rise again; worse than an eartquake, thousands and thousands of ancient dead, many of them wearing archaic armor with Argothoth's symbol on it, rise from the ground once more. The ancient and mighty Graveguards of Argothoth, long buried beneath Aikul - theAi-Skull of old - and lost in their slumber have been awakened by the God of Undeath, and they come to heed his call. But they are not alone. For together with them, shadows blot out the sky that have not been seen for millennia, spreading their bony wings against the boiling black clouds, and roaring to announce their return. The skeletons of dragons far greater and mightier than today's dragons erupt from Aikul's martyred ground, pinpoints of red light in their empty eyesockets, unholy flames in their fleshless mouths: the dracoliches of old, crafted by Argothoth millennia ago, who long slept in buriedAi-Skull after the cracking of the world, rise once more to greet their master! Faced with the apocalypse, the people of Aikul go insane, and many of them tear out their eyes, or commit suicide rather than face the end of the world and their own death. But even suicide does not spare them, for no sooner have they plunged to their deaths, that their corpses are filled with unholy energy, and they rise again, enslaved now to Argothoth's will.
Your lands are flooded as a consequence of Undine's actions against Nor Yekith; your undead couldn't care less.

Undeath has filled the world, and your power grows terribly! The only corpses which do not rise are those touched by the Wand of Peace Eternal, on Immeril.

who do not rember the rise of the fallen?
kevinswatch.ihugny.com/phpBB2/viewtopic.php?p=483651#483651

[I'm Murrin]

I'd forgotten about this one, from turn 4:

Maeror holds the souls of the dead within himself, for he is Death. When one is pulled out of him, yanked violently into the world, he feels it, and so discovers Darkstaff.
As the necromancer pulls soul after soul out of the underworld for his purposes, Maeror watches, and waits. He chooses a soul from among the legion of dead--an unassuming soul, a man unremarkable to others when alive, but with great strength of spirit. A man who also bears the mark of having found faith in Jastrau before he died.
Having seen Darkstaff at his work, Maeror knows how to prepare his trap. The chosen soul, invested with Maeror's power so as to resist any compulsion the necromancer places upon his minions, is put into place, and Maeror watches as Darkstaff pulls it out and into the body of an undead warrior.
*
The warrior lies twitching on the slab as the soul is bound within it. Darkstaff, the great necromancer, works the binding with flair, as perfect a creation as are all those he creates. The ritual complete, he waits for the soul to recover from the stress of recovery.
Slowly, the sunken eyes blink, and the creature gaps a breath. Darkstaff smiles triumphantly. "Welcome, my child. I am--"
His voice turns to a choked yelp when the undead being turns its face toward him. Its eyes are empty black pits that trap and hold Darkstaff's gaze. Within that stare, nothingness--the endless abyss, black and terrible. He stumbles backward from the warrior as it rises and marches toward him, the strength and agility he had given its twisted frame making its movements easy, though grotesque to watch.
His eyes cannot leave those of his creation--the blankness seeps into his mind, dulling his thought, making movement difficult. A voice screams and wails in terror at the back of his mind, but he is trapped and slowly sinking into blackness....
The creature reaches out and takes hold of the necromancer's head between his hands. Darkstaff feels, distantly, the crunch of his skull.
The blackness seeps over everything. Darkstaff, the great necromancer, gibbers and cries and wails in madness, somewhere deep down within; but nothing can penetrate this dark. His soul has been consigned to the abyss, forever.
*
The warrior stumbles away from the body of the necromancer, and collapses to the floor, his stolen body wracked with great sobs. His soul burns in contact with it, every part of him bound tight to this creation of evil, and repulsed by it. Agony fills his every living moment.
Footsteps on the stone floor: delicate feet, under the flowing white of robes. Above, a face bending down towards him, expression one of supreme tragedy. His eyes meet hers, and the pain within him stops. He stares, rapt, as she stoops further, and presses her lips to his brow.
"Your reward," she whispers, and a single tear runs down her cheek.
The tortured body of the warrior collapses, lifeless.
*
After a long day of peaceful work, Jarrow wanders through golden fields, his tools slung over his shoulder, whistling tunelessly. The sun slants down from the west, casting his shadow long ahead of him, and a cool breeze ruffles his hair. At home, his family are waiting. He sits at the head of the table for dinner, and hears each of his children tell of their day. After dinner, he takes them all to their rooms and tucks them into bed.
His wife kisses him good night and goes up to their room, while he finishes putting things away. He puts out the lights, and in shadow heads to join his wife. As he climbs the stairs of the farmhouse, he thinks of the next day's work, and that of the day after, and after, and silently offers thanks to Jastrau for his blessings; then, on some strange whim, he offers a prayer to Maeror.
He goes to sleep smiling, feeling as though his happiness will last forever.

[I'm Murrin]

Third topic: Meddling: Conversion, Interference, Misdirection, and Ploys

Now that the game is completely over, I'm free to admit just how many times I tried to convert your followers. I also have, on occasion, attempted to interfere with the actions and areas of influence of other players. I'm going to lay out these actions for you now--the message to be taken from them is: actions purely of word or power work quite well. Act in a way that can be witnessed, and it will come back to bite you.


The first such act happened in Turn 1, my very first action, and it was probably one of the least thought out--and least efective--actions I attempted.

Knowing that he must spread the word of the new Lord of Death, the Lord-General chooses from amongst his new followers five men who will head out into the world in all directions, stopping at each village they pass, at every town, to spread word of Maeror and the gods' chosen champion.

It came to pass that one of these messengers reached the sea, and devoted to spreading the word of his new god, set out across the ocean to take it to new shores. This messenger was young, but he had seen battle and survived; now his new-found faith had given him a strength of will unmatched. His journey was long and perilous, and many times he came close to death, but Maeror knew of his devotion, and she smiled upon him, and conveyed him safely across the world to a new land, where he could continue to spread his faith.

As he crossed this new land, speaking of the god Grief to any who would hear, he began to find rumours of a dark force, a power that had rained out of the sky in a nearby country--one that twisted those who could stand the transformation, and destroyed those who could not. And so inevitably the messenger came upon the land of Nor Pupae, and Maeror saw through him the dark malice of Nor Yekith.
Horrified at the extent of suffering Malice had wrought upon the innocent people of this Greater Kingdom, she decided to act. The Lady visited to the messenger in the night, and bid him drink of her tears. Through this act was he granted powers of healing, so that he may fight mutation, undo the twisting wrought by malice; and with it, protection from eyes of the god Nor Yekith. To this acolyte she gave a new name: Putus; pure.
And the Pure One set out into the lands of Malice, to ease suffering where he found it, and to spread the word of Grief.

In turn 2, he was left to continue without interference--but then I think perhaps Nor Yekith acted to prevent his attempts; the actual cause of his death I never discovered.

Putus continues deep into Nor Pupae, administering to the mutants. However, something happens to him while on this journey; perhaps he was too confident in Maeror's protection, perhaps he was noticed by Nor Yekith, perhaps some other deity decided to interfere - whatever the reason, Putus dies in his sleep a few weeks after having entered Nor Pupae.

It was around now that I began to send out priests and healers to the lands of other gods--with permission, of course, and under strict rules.

Following the words of his god Maeror, his prophet chooses from among his disciples those ready to serve as priests in his temples, to minister to the dead and grieving. The chosen are dispatched to the cities controlled by other deities as per Maeror's agreements with them:
-Lord Adomorn, on the agreement that my priests will not enter his Academy;
-Undine, in exchange for the Lady's blessing (non-DRP) on his experiments into the healing powers of sea vegetation;
-to the lands of Simjen, priests who will provide healing as well as funeral rites.

All are to abide by Maeror's word: they shall work only in the capacity they have been assigned, and will preach their religion only as it applies to death and grief. By this manner may people come to accept me as the peaceful Lord of Death alongside whatever other deities they worship.

Later on, after some of Undines priests attacked my prophet, I violated the agreement not to let my people proselytise:

Maeror has priests in many cities, directing the rites of funeral. The god has forbidden them from proselytising actively, but some do not keep to this command. In Porsulis, the priest has secretly met with people of the city who were interested by his rituals to speak of the power of Maeror.
Few are moved by his speeches, but word of Maeror does reach the people, and spreads. Some, though, find something to believe in his devoted words.
The Lady comes to Porsulis, and sees the faithful scattered among them. One such she picks out, a man who has found hope in the word of the Healer. While he lies asleep in his bed, she visits upon him, and gives to him of her power. When he wakes, he finds that those he comes near are cured of their illnesses; those close to dying recover. He takes this as a reward for his new faith in Maeror.
Soon, people begin to notice the miracles that occur around him, and people bring their ill to see this man. He does not speak openly of his god, following the example of the priests, but whispered rumour spreads that this man is a chosen prophet of Maeror... and so the faith of the Lady begins to spread in Porsulis.

Illumar, the man blessed by the Healer, spreads the word of Maeror across Porsulis.

This was also the turn when Jastrau left, and Adomorn's army camped outside Linver. The city had not yet converted, so I tried to get my foot in the door...

The people of Linver begin to see strange apparitions wandering the streets--restless spirits, allowed by Maeror to leak through to the world of the living in this one place rather than go to his realm.The people in Linver seek a way to calm these ghosts, and appeal to their gods for aid.
[1DRP] (Hopefully Adomorn will ask for my help )

Of course, that was one of the things that prompted my war with Adomorn. When I saw the city converted to his worship, and I found that he had something of worth to me, I told him what I had done and withdrew the spirits. The response annoyed me a little:

The restless spirits are withdrawn from Linver; Adomorn's Prophet tells the people of the city that it was through Adomorn's power that the spirits were banished.

More priests spread to the cities of other gods:

With the god's permission, priests of Maeror are dispatched to the cities of Vadhaka Chorah, to serve under the terms set out earlier in the game.

I had also, much earlier, sent a healer from Solimn to Myriele; I got no word of her until this turn, when I gave Chisi some aid in exchange for allowing her to found a clinic there.

With Chisi's blessing, in return for Maeror's attempt to stop Veria's Hand, the healer who travelled to Khenstorn is allowed to establish a small clinic in Myriele. She sends word back to Solimn, so that a few more of her fellow healers may travel there to serve the populace. The skill of Maeror's healers is, as always, open to any in need of it, whoever they worship.

I had heard about the mists surrounding the world, but could not get Undine to tell me anything about them, so, hoping to find some new land that I might convert before anyone else got there...

The Order of Regret have chosen for themselves an unusual task: They seek to discover what lies beyond the edges of the world. If a land exists beyond this edge, they feel it is their duty to find it - for a realm that does not know Maeror will surely have need of them, to seek out the restless spirits who can have received no succour, and to spread Maeror's word. A ship sets out from the City of Regret, and heads north, carrying several minor devotees of the Order who have volunteered to act as missionaries in whatever place they arrive.
Maeror shares their interest--their inability to see beyond the edges of this land worries them. The twin-aspected god lends a small blessing to the party and the ship, so that they may find them wherever they travel.

It didn't go as planned.

A ship sails from the City of Regret, heading north, towards the mists that encircle the world. After months of navigation, upon first seeing the dreaded mists, your worshipers begin to pray for deliverance, fearing that only death may await them beyond the mists. Yet they have a duty to perform, and none wishes to disappoint their god. So onward they sail, until the writhing, cold tendrils of the world-encircling mists stroke the ship's wooden hull like the fingers of a long-dead lover, and shapes unlike any the sailors have ever seen seem to form and dissipate in the grayness beyond. Faintly, it seems to them as if screams could be heard, blood-curdling and horrified beyond comprehension; the sailors' fright grows, but still they continue, knowing without a doubt, now, that they cannot turn back anymore. The sailors whisper a last prayer to Maeror... and then disappear from your sight, swallowed by the mists.

And at the same time, my purposes in Porsulis came to fruition--aided by the knowledge gained that Undine had invited Nor Yekith to send his Houka there, then drowned them, and told the people of Porsulis he was saving them from Nor Yekith's malice.

In the city of Porsulis, Illumar receives the sick and hurt, and makes them whole. So many seek his healing, now, that he cannot see to them all, as he would wish. In the months since he received his powers, much has changed. The priest of Maeror, hearing rumour of him from the mouths of those who knew, had sought him out, and declared him blessed by Maeror, taking this as a sign that he should continue to preach their word. But still they feared the attention of Undine's priests, and so their work had to be in secret.

The number of followers increased as more saw his work for themselves. The priest could not use his temple to preach the word of his god. It came to pass, through the gratitude of people the man had healed, that they found a place for this, in a warehouse far from the city's temples and mansions. The priest and Illumar began to give services, going to great effort to keep the work secret; now, several months since the appearance of his powers, Illumar was appearing nightly before the worshippers of Maeror, and they brought out their sick to be healed by him.

Surely some rumour must have reached the rulers of the city of this change, but no attempt was made by them to prevent the spread of this faith, and so the followers of Maeror had grown. But the longer they went unchallenged, the more careless the people had become.
Finally, it became more than a rumour, and Undine's followers could ignore it no more.
They descended on the warehouse in the night, while Illumar ministered to the people. Soldiers of the city surrounded the gathered congregation; priests stood with them, their accusers.
Just as the priests stepped forward to denounce the followers of Maeror, a strange silence fell upon the room. A sense of warmth came into them, and the people found themselves turning toward the man who stood alone at the head of the makeshift temple.
He opened his mouth, and spoke with two voices.
"People of Porsulis." The man's lips moved with the words, but his voice seemed but an echo of the other. "You have followed Undine because he protected you. But the Lord of Rivers' protection is a lie." The priests of Undine might have protested, but they found themselves unable to speak. "The enemy he killed came at his own command. They died at the hand of betrayal." The god's voice faded, while Illumar's gained strength; but the power in the words remained. The knowledge was his now, and this his purpose. "He gave you a lie to fear, and offered himself as protection from it. And his betrayal has given him a true enemy.
"When you follow Undine, you follow one who would bring destruction upon you through his schemes." Illumar stopped, and looked down at the people who knelt around him. Fear filled some faces; anger, a few. But in most of them, awe, and hope.
"The Healer will protect us. Maeror will not betray our trust.
"Grieve for Undine, for his betrayal will bring him great harm. But do not allow him to render this harm upon you."
The god's power faded from him, and the presence lifted from the room. The people of Maeror remained silent. Then one by one, they began to come forward, and each received his blessing. The priest of Maeror was first among them; among them came soldiers, and priests who wore the robes of Undine. Only some few of the priests remained behind, and seeing they could do nothing to stop this, left.

On this night, the word of Maeror went openly into Porsulis. The people went out into the streets, carrying the words of their god. Priests of Undine wept at their god's betrayal, and in the temples renounced their devotions. The Healer's new Prophet walked in the city, and laid hands on all he passed. To each, he spoke the same: "Maeror grants you hope."

Eventually, he came to the home of the city's rulers. He would see what they had to say when they heard his message.

Unfortunately, Xar never quite lets you get away with meddling cleanly:

Illumar's words in Porsulis sway many from Undine's dubious protection to your worship. The common people, awed by a god's visitation and instinctively believing in Illumar's words, rise against Undine's clergy in Porsulis, bringing their just wrath to bear against those who tricked them into believing they ever needed the protection of treacherous Undine; the night after Illumar's revelation, a night of fire and blood, sees many rising against the city's rulers and Undine's temple. The enraged population of Porsulis, including many soldiers, assaults the city halls and Undine's temple, looting both, capturing Undine's staunchest followers. Disgusted by Undine's treachery, the people of Porsulis shatter his altar, desecrate his holy symbol, take down the basreliefs showing his glory; they tear the tapestries, destroy the vases, and violate the inner sanctums of Undine's temple.
When all is done, dawn rises over the ruins of what was once a majestic temple, now reduced to little more than a pile of smoking rubble; and not too far from it, the bodies of Undine's staunchest followers and priests, as well as the city rulers, hang from a series of crudely constructed gibbets where they sway in the wind, easy prey for the crows. Thus it was that Porsulis's Night of Blood cleansed the ancient town of Undine's stench.

I admonished them for their actions:

The people of Porsulis have brought violence in the wake of Maeror's appearence. Illumar cries out against this act, and the bodies of the dead are taken down from the gibbets, and given the funeral rites they deserve. He asks them to rebuild the temple of Undine, saying "He has bretrayed your trust, but he is still a god. He has power, and that, at least, deserves respect."
The souls of those killed are granted paradise.

But this did little to appease Undine. He joined the war against me.

The war seemed to be calming, but I had lost followers and wanted to increase my strength in case the negotiations did not go well. I changed the orders of my priests in other cities.

The priests of Maeror in other cities all begin to spread the god's word in secret, throughout Eiran. Behind closed doors and in cover of night, the priests bring more people into the Lord and Lady's faith. In the cities of Vadhaka, Undine, and Adomorn; in all the cities to which his priests have been allowed access, the faith spreads slowly. Only those in Myriele, at the new clinic, do not do this.
Maeror gives their strength so that the actions of these followers is not discovered.
[1DRP to keep this unnoticed. I may have forgotten who I have priests with and who not (surely not just four gods accepted?), so check up if you need to. Anyway--everywhere except in Chisi's lands (I feel like it's too soon to try meddling there).]

Things calmed down with the end of the war, but I never remembered to retract that order. It did not seem to have any effect after that one turn, however.

For a couple of turns, I did not attempt to interfere with anything. The next was my resurrection of Glianneth--posted earlier--whcih I deliberately had take place within the temple at Sanctuary, and had him give his speech, so that people of that city would convert. It worked.

Glianneth's body is brought to Sanctuary and the Pantheon temple; there, vigil is kept for five days and five nights, until your power, Bhakti's and Undine's mingle together to restore the Chosen One to life. Upon seeing this miracle and hearing his words, many people in Sanctuary spontaneously convert to your worship.

When the mists parted and the new continents appeared, I once again tried to get my foot in the door before others could.

And in these new lands, this fresh world, Maeror sees... opportunity. One cannot heal someone that does not wish to be healed, after all. To bring peace is not enough: the receivers must welcome it, or there is no peace at all. He knows what must be done.
As one part of Maeror reaches into the world and claims her role, he also reaches outward, across the oceans and the new lands, into the world that has opened to him. But it is wrong to say that it is He alone tht touches the new world--for they are both plural and singular, together and apart. When the hand of the Lord reaches outward, the hand of the Lady is there with it.
And throughout the new world there is felt the presence of Maeror, the hand of Life and Death, the bringer of comfort to all who suffer; in visions, in dreams, in each and every part of a world untouched by the gods until this moment, in every place where there exists a mind open to their touch: there is Maeror. A new world dawns, and with it, the Word.
Respite, Salvation, and Rebirth.

[A whopping 4 DRP on this one. Glad I had a nice easy turn so I could go ahead with this.]

I never did agree with Xar's decision to say those continents were uninhabited, but that was mostly because it wasted much of this order. O-gon-cho's reveal--the excuse Xar used--may have said that noone inhabited it--but only of the desert, which covers a tiny portion of the continent, and only the parts her prophet had flown over.
I'm lucky that Xar misinterpreted my order, and had it apply to the entire world, not just the new lands--I still gained a large number of followers.


My effort of sending priests and healers out to other cities continued. I never did come to the point where I might use them to try and convert the cities, but that idea was always in the back of my mind.

The Healer speaks to her most devoted followers: the acolytes of the healing orders, the people of the Hospital. They must spread their knowledge to the world, and bring it health. They are to choose from among their most talented members the persons who will travel out of Solimn, and head to the cities of Vadhaka Chorah. Each of those chosen will take with them acolytes, and workmen; and in each of the cities of Vadhaka's faith, they will establish their Hospitals. With Vadhaka's blessing, the healers of Maeror will provide their knowledge and talents to his people.
In time, the Hospitals founded in these cities will grow; they will use their knowledge to train new healers in their arts, and study to increase their knowledge, which will be shared freely with other Hospitals in other cities.

I also made another bid for converts within one of Undine's cities:

As spring reaches its end in the land on Thellarr, the last part of Maeror's fleet arrives in the city of Mai-e. A small ship, carrying only a few priests, comes into the harbour, and the priests walk to the palace to greet the rulers, the servants of Undine.
"In three days, the hand of Maeror will touch this land," they say. "In three days, hope will be returned."
Fearing these words, but uncertain of how to act, the rulers have little choice but to imprison the priests and wait for this dire threat to be fulfilled. After all, the hand of the Lord of Death could only bring sorrow.
On the third day, the priests' prophecy comes to pass. In the land of Thellarr, where magic had once before scoured the surface clean of life, the hand of Maeror passes. As the sun climbs above a blasted horizon, each place the light touches brings... Life. In the dead lands of the southern island plants burst from the ground, animals climb from burrows, the air fills with the sounds of birdsong. The hand of the Mother touches Thellarr, and Life begins anew.
The voices of the priests echo from the cells below the palace, their voices rising even to the ears of the rulers far above: "The Mother of Life brings hope."

[2 DRP]

Undine never suspected that the imprisonment was part of my own plan for the priests' visitation. He apologised for his followers' reaction.


The biggest, and stupidest, meddling attempt to date occured when Nor Yekith took a short break from the game. The world had just been shaken by an earthquake, and the continent of Khenstorn had changed shape: the new shape seemed to offer opportunities. I decided, unfairly, to take advantage of Nor's absence.

"Our greatest task lies before us."
The Lord-General stands, Hope at his side, and addresses his men.
"It is time to leave the safety of this realm, and travel into other lands." The soldiers below watch him with devotion in their gaze; their loyalty and faith make ties stronger than any other. "Maeror has shown me this. There lies a blight across the world, a realm shrouded in mystery. A realm of disease and deformity; of cruelty and depredation."
Events have already been set in motion. Even now, his most loyal officers prepare to hold Fort Hope and the lands of Maeror in the Prophet's absence. More men are recruited from the followers of Maeror each day--this land will not be weak while Admar Tellem Meckros is gone.
"Know that we do not go now to wage war. That time will come, but for now we go for better reasons. We go to prepare the way."
Not all below him are soldiers. Beyond the troops of his army stand the civilians. They cover the slopes of the hill, stretching down below the fort toward the distant sight of Solimn. Labourers, all. Volunteers, all. Twenty thousand men. Since spring began, they have been called to give themselves. And while they slowly gathered, the work to take them south began. In Regret, the ships were built. Funded by the wealth of Bassina, supplied by the industry of the northern forests. Even as he speaks, an armada gathers in the east.
"We go to bring the light of Maeror, of Life and Death, of Healing, to a people who stand under threat. We go to bring them the means to resist the blight.
"The time has not yet come to fight. But when that time does come, we will not be found unready."

From Fort Hope, east and south the people march, the civilians and the soldiers, to the sea. The ships await them, a massive fleet. South they sail, south beyond the land of Olaern. Not all are destined for the same final target. South and then west, toward the Solus sea, toward the broken lands.
One week into the journey, the fleet divides. One fourth of their number sail west, to land upon a great island that rises up from the Solus sea, shattered remnant of a broken realm. For them is the task of converting this land, of building the shipyards and the manufactories that will provide the line of communication between the Lord-General's armies and the lands of home. From this island, between Olaern and Khenstorn, they will secure the route between the two great continents.

The remaining three-quarters of the fleet turn southward, to pass by the lands of Lady Luck and into a realm that feels the shadow of the blight. The Worm does not have dominion here, but the presence of this alien malice is felt. This is where the opposition will begin.
"Hope. It is a sign, that the place would be named such."
Lord-General Admar Tellem Meckros leads the occupation of Hope. He sends his delegates, shares the word of his god, shows the signs and symbols of his power. He offers them Maeror's protection from the power of the Worm. And so his people are welcomed, and the word of Maeror once more brings peace.
To Aldastrian, he first sends priests, who speak to the people of the city, and bring more into the faith of their god. When word reaches the city of Hope's conversion, many more come to them and hear the words of this god of Life and Death. They need only see Admar's next act to be convinced of the protection that he can offer.
Admar wastes no time in beginning the next stage of his plans. To the west lies the realm of the Worm, the only connection the narrow strip that joins two halves of the once-whole land. The labourers he sends to this bridge, protected by the men of the army. Here they begin the construction of a great stronghold. Here will Admar hold fast against the Worm. Here will Maeror guard the world against this threat. On this strip of rock will stand the Citadel of Tears, the greatest fortress ever built.

[3 DRP. Found settlement on the big island between Olaern and Khenstorn, convert Hope and Aldastrian, found the Citadel of Tears in between those cities and Nor Pupae. This may my most ambitious action yet.]

This action had already been heavily revised on advice from Xar, to make the motives less outwardly hostile toward Nor Yekith; also after discussing with Xar, I later removed the part about the fortress. Still, my meddling was punished:

From your lands, ship sail to Khenstorn and the isle between that continent and Olaern. Those who land upon that isle find it uninhabited and pristine; wondering at its beauty, they begin to settle it, while word arrives that Bhakti's Forestals will be coming soon. The settlement they build is named Serenity, for such is the feeling that is in the hearts of all who see the beauty of this new realm. The others sail further south, to Khenstorn, and land on the strip that separates Nor Pupae from Chisi's lands. From there, theLord-General and his people move towards Hope, even as delegates are sent to Aldastrian. But when they reach the cities which once belonged to Queeaqueg, they discover with horror that both cities - Hope and Aldastrian - are no longer. It is as if monstrous gorges had opened where they once stood, and then closed after swallowing them. Some believe this to have been the work of the earthquake; others whisper that Melirelle took them. But soon, doubts are laid to rest as a Yekith rises from the ground and addresses the Lord-General. Its voice is cold and seeps into the Lord-General's mind like water into an underground cave.
"I am Klasthrishh, Favored Prophet of the Elder of the Yekiths. I speak in her name. You have come to a land that is not yours to take, Prophet of Maeror; the lands of the foul Queeaqueg were taken from him by right of conquest. My Lady now rules over them, as Argothoth does on the others, and has protected them when the earthquake came. Tell the gods of Olaern and Landir not to intrude upon Khenstorn, lest the gods of Khenstorn intrude upon their lands in turn. If it is land you seek, Prophet of Death, seek it west, where all gods can find it, and thank the good will of the Elder of Yekiths for this bounty she has given you all. Now depart, for you are trespassing upon the lands of others."
With these words, the Yekith disappears back into the ground, as if it were swimming, leaving the Lord-General alone with his people, to ponder its words and decide what to do next.

I misinterpreted what had occured: As far as I knew, the cities had been destroyed just because I attempted to claim them. I refused to leave, and so attempted to find a way to continue on Khenstorn.

The Lord-General sees the fault in his approach to his task. The cities are gone, and he has heard the words of the Yekith. His task, given him by his god, remains.
The events force a change in tactics, to one more subtle, and more sure. From the coast on which they have landed he sends many of his people back to sea, to join their fellows at Serenity. But many more remain, and they begin to work on a new task.
The builders Admar has brought work quickly and with skill, the words of the Prophet keeping their spirits raised. On the coast near their landing point, there rises a tall structure of stone, a spire looming high above the land. The stone is carved by artisans with many strange symbols and figures. And for each day of its construction the Lord-General Admar Tellem Meckros stands beneath it and focuses his strength, his will, his faith in the cold rock.
Through the burning passion of the prophet, through his will and strength, Maeror reaches into this symbol, and on the final day, when the last stone is put in its place, when the final mark is etched into its surface, the power of Maeror fills it.
And outward from this spire there spreads the force of this power, the essence. To these faithful men who stand within its range it brings health, peace, restoration. The power of Maeror covers the land around this point, shielding it from the hands of the gods, shielding it from their sight. Within the range of this spire, the people of Maeror are protected.
And finally, comes the hardest part of Admar's task. The prophet stands like a beacon to the eyes of the gods, and would draw their sight toward him. And so he must leave his men in this harsh land, leave them to build and to prepare beneath their shield, until he may walk in that land without fear that his presence will draw down the hand of his enemies upon his people. For them to remain protected, he must turn back. On the day the shield extands over this land, his ship sets sail for Serenity.

[3DRP to shield this area of the Khenstorn coast from the sight and hand of the gods, so their power may not act against my people there.]

Xar continued, however, to punish me for taknig advantage of Lore's break.

A sizeable group of your followers from the new settlement built in Khenstorn abandon the settlement and seek out Argothoth, having converted to his worship.

When he said "a sizable group", he wasn't joking. Xar gave ten thousand of my people to Argothoth for interfering--and with no action on Argothoth's part. They simply walked away.
After being informed of what had really happened to the cities, and seeing just how cruel Xar can be when he doesn't want you to do something, I withdrew.

Maeror speaks to her prophet, Admar:
"It seems a mistake has been made. Know this: the cities you sought to convert were not destroyed. They have gone willingly to the Goddess of Birth, and having chosen their fate for themselves, we would not contest it.
"There is no blame to be handed out for this. Unaware of the goddess's actions, your response was entirely justified. However, it seems that the current course of action must be abandoned, for this and for... other reasons. Your people are leaving Khenstorn, and will join you here. The spire will not serve the purpose it was constructed for. For now, be content to remain in this place--this land so near to paradise--and I will return to you, soon enough, with new plans."

The forces on Khenstorn leave as stated above; Maeror reaches into the spire once more when they have left, and redirects its power. The force that had blocked, had shielded, is refocused, is turned into a field spreading outward--one of health, to touch all within its range, and leaving the land unclouded.

[1DRP]

Nor Yekith returned, and Yekithii was created, on the turn after this. There is one action I might have included at this point in "Meddling", but I want to save it for a more prominent position in my next post. I meddled twice on that turn, though, and the second actions I will share.
One of Astavyastataa's followers had kidnapped a child and a dragon's egg from Zandarar. I decided, on a whim, to interfere.

In the north, a fugitive flees pursuers belonging to several gods. For weeks Vaxxa has been running, since the day of murders and kidnappings in the Weyr. And so Maeror finds her, hidden, with hostage and the stolen egg. He comes to her, and he makes an offer.
He does not ask her to change her faith. Only to accept him, for a time, as patron. A door he shows her, into a pocket of his realm, where she will not be found by those who hunt her. In the future, she will be called upon to give her service in a single act, and afterward, she will be free to go as she will. His only requirement is that she leave her hostage, and give to the Lord the dragon's egg.

(Should she choose to accept, Maeror will deliver the egg into the care of Or. Given what the goddess has done to her children, he cannot be sure that the dragon will survive alone, and fears that it may already be too late to repair the damage of being removed. So, he asks Or to hold the child in secret, and to see if it can--with the Lady's aid--be made to survive this ordeal.)

[2DRP]

(I afterward added an unused DRP by PM, making it so that if Vaxxa refused, their memories would be wiped of my visit.)
This is one of only a few instances I am aware of where several god's desgins have converged to produce an... interesting result. All credit to Xar for devising the outcome of this convergence.

You find and speak to Vaxxa, in the Immerilian desert; she mistrustfully agrees to your proposal, gathers child and egg, and prepares to enter the portal you provided for her. However, a figure suddenly leaps from the shadows of the cave where you found her - a black-clad man who grasps Vaxxa's head and then... is no longer near her, but several meters away, holding her still-twitching head in his hands. Her headless, bleeding body falls onto the egg and the child; Calypso, horrified, screams and, seeing the man reaching with blood-spattered hands towards her, quickly grasps the egg and jumps into the portal. The man immediately follows, but finds himself trapped into your realm, albeit with the child and the egg in his hands. Here, in your realm, you can clearly feel that his essence was touched by Astavyastataa Kadna - and O-gon-cho.

This turn of events left Maeror kind of stuck: another of the people hunting for Vaxxa witnessed what happened, and though my identity was hidden, they knew that the child, Favoured, and egg were taken by a god.
The child and egg were stuck in Maeror's realm where he had intended to take only Vaxxa. Privately, I contacted O-gon-cho, admitted my action--though I did not reveal my intent for the egg--and arranged to return them to her. Through her, Astavyastataa was told the same, though he was not given my identity. (So now you know, hehe. Surprised?)

Solus, Sontag, and and dragon's egg have entered into a place of Maeror's creation, one that he had intended to hold Vaxxa until he was ready. A branch of the realm of the dead, where time does not pass as it does in the living world. And it is this quality of the realm that preserves those within it. It is as if only moments have passed, when the doorway opens again.
Maeror has shaped this door differently; it does not go to only one place. Sontag it looses into the desert north of Sietch Crumble. The child Solus, and the egg, as they pass are pulled away to another destination: they emerge further to the north, at the Valley of Celestial Harmonies near Zanderar.

And that was that. Even Sontag did not know who had taken him.


For a while now--since my attempted incursion--a force on Khenstorn had caused distress to anyone who did not follow Nor, Melirelle, or Argothoth. I decided to take advantage, once again, using the unaligned cities left by Chisi LaRoo's departure:

Maeror sends a message through his followers to the people of Khenstorn in the cities that formerly followed Chis LaRoo: As the unease grows in strength, and they are driven to leave their homes, Maeror invites them to make a new home for themselves in his lands, either on the island where lies Serenity, or on the southern edge of Olaern. If they would settle his lands, they would have the protection of the Lord-General's army, and the service of Maeror's healers and priests. He does not ask for their faith in return for this; he only wishes to give them a place where they are safe and unaffected by this compulsion.
Maeror's own followers in these lands shall go with them, if they choose to move to these lands, or if not, shall take themselves back to other cities of Maeror.

You send a message through your followers to the people in Chisi La'Roo's lands, inviting them to join the remainder of your people. Many of Chisi La'Roo's erstwhile followers turn to you for worship due to your kindness, and accept your offer.

When I claimed the domain of Justice, I once again had Glianneth make a speech in Sanctuary, so that people would be converted by his words. I'm not sure how effective that part of the action was.

Glianneth, Divine Emmissary of Maeror, stands in the Pantheon Temple where assembled are the representatives of each of the gods who had sent their folowers to Sanctuary. From his mouth comes the word of Maeror.
"I am asked to bring this message before you so that you may carry it beyond these walls, to your people and to your gods. This message is to be heard by all, so that they may know my Lord's deliberation.
"The Lord Adomorn has gone through many changes of heart since his arrival in this world. He has been Conquest, Combat, Protection, Strength; but ever his most significant role was as the Lord Justice. Justice, the fair and equal treatment of all, the dedication to act in a way that is guided by truth, reason, and law. Justice is something the world is ever in need of.
"The Lord Adomorn has abandoned this role.
"The world cannot do without justice. And thus is my Lord's word: Justice will be given. The Lord Maeror, god of Death, and the Lady Maeror of Life and Health, from this day claims the role of Justice, to act as guided by truth, reason, and fairness. He will hold this role in perpetuity, unless the Lord Adomorn should change his path and once again be willing and capable of holding the domain, in which circumstance the Lord Maeror will yield the title Justice to its rightful holder.
"Maeror has taken this upon himself for the benefit of all. The people of Eiran deserve a source of Justice in their lives; Maeror hopes that he can be it."

Toward the end of the game, the "meddling" became more about counter-action: as Astavyastataa attempted to kill or convert my followers, I began to act in ways that would foil his attempts, or acted to convert his own people in turn. I posted the first attempt to convert the Domain before. A turn later, the second:

The power of the World Breaker rains down upon Castle Chaos, and souls flood into Maeror's realm--with many souls of the Favoured, Astavyastataa's chosen. All the Death in this one place empowers Maeror and lends him influence there, and he sees the opportunity to oppose Astavyastataa in a new way. Timing is key: to strike while the souls still scream their way into the afterlife, when the Lord's power is greatest. As the last part of the attack fades, and the Castle is left smoking crater, Maeror's hand strikes: From the centre of the desolation, power floods out, blasting across the damaged land; and it heralds the formation of a great stone spire that thrusts upward from the earth. In design it resembles the spire that Maeror left dormant on the Khenstorn coast, but on a much larger scale, hundreds of feet high, and in runes spiralling around it is written the Creed of Maeror. It thrusts its length high into the air, until its dark figure is clearly visible even from the Peaks of Destruction that surround the Domain. And the power that floods from it is not Death, but Life. A voice booms from the spire, out to the Domain of Destruction that surrounds it.
"The World Breaker spoke only truth. The Lord Astavyastataa Kadna can bring no salvation. The true Lord of Chaos will destroy him as easily as he has destroyed this fortress, and those who follow him will be lost. But with Life and Healing stands Hope: Stand at our side, lend us your strength, and We will protect you. Follow our Word, and the World Breaker shall not be allowed to prevail against you. Maeror offers you our strength."

[2DRP, and the power boost that should come from doing this in a place where there has been a lot of death recently (a bit like Ai-Lamentum in P1, built on the site of great tragedy...)--to construct, empower, and influence...]

I wanted to keep using the spire to boost my influence, but Argothoth's attack was devastating, and I didn't have the strength to do it. I left it to be destroyed by his Children of Chaos.

I began, after my weakening by Asta and Argothoth, and after the Screech, to use the excuse of Healing for my own gain.

Maeror has been granted small measure of power to fight the madness that has struck the world. She begins by gathering this strength, shaping it, and making sure that no influence other than that she desires to touch it may do so--no jester will play tricks with her strength. With that gifted to her, she sends it out across Eiran--first through her own worshippers, and then to the minds of others: In those that are afflicted, she twists their mind back into shape, relieving them of the madness the Screech has brought upon them. And when the power crosses the minds of those who worship Astavyastataa, Moxinomal, Mithyaat Vam or Argothoth, she twists it another way: She pulls at their thoughts, twists their faith into a new direction, and brings their minds into the worship of Maeror.

[1DRP from Hedra, 2DRP from Bhakti, and whatever else is offered that I mgiht not have been told of (except, of course, the stuff trying to interfere with it ).]

I'm going to include misdirection in this post, so I can post the way I avoided my people being destroyed by Asta and the time distortion.
First, I moved my followers out of harm's way:

Maeror then sends his own power to those who need him, and who he needs in turn. As the servants of Suffering and Undeath bear down upon them, Maeror snatches up his people: from Fort Hope and Ai-Lamentum where the undead march on, from the Domain of Destruction where Astavyastataa's assassins prepare to strike, he pulls them--the civilians, priests and healers--bodily into a part of his realm, and in an instant, deposits them elsewhere: in the forest of northern Immeril, under the protection of the generous Bhakti, he takes as many of these innocent and mostly defenceless people as he is capable and brings them to safety--however temporary this sanctuary may be.
Ai-Lamentum is emptied, and a message appears in the air before the great dragon: Escape!
In Fort Hope, however, some remain: Admar Tellem Meckros, and what few soldiers he had left with him, stand ready to serve their Lord.

[2DRP to extract as many of my followers from the invaded lands in Olaern and the converts from Asta's Domain of Destruction (since I know for a fact he's trying to have those ones killed). Note that I'm not including the followers in other gods' lands or in the currently unthreatened cities.]

Believing that, despite Asta's urging, Argothoth might not use the time distortion and instead would continue the attack with his armies, I did everything I could to make Fort Hope seem like a target.

And now, the goddess Norn erects her barrier around the Fort, to hold back the undead horde; and the goddess of Knowledge sends to them the sure conviction that this Fort is where their enemies stand against them. Moments before these things occur, Maeror's power is sent to Vadhaka Chorah, who grants to Admar and his soldiers escape from the Fort, away from the encroaching horde, to the temporary safety of the forest in the north.
The undead now march on an empty fortress, convinced it holds their enemy but prevented from approach by a barrier against undead. To give further strength to this illusion, Maeror find in the underworld the spirits of dead soldiers, who in death have chosen to live the afterlife continuing their role as protectors of the people: in their deathly slumber they march the walls of the Fort, and now he allows these spirits to seep over into the living realm, so that to the eyes of any that fall upon it, it seems defended by many men, though in truth there is noone.

[1DRP to Vadhaka. Norn is powering her thing herself, and I'm just using my domain for the spirits thing.]

And while that goes on, I worked elsewhere to weaken my enemies and strengthen myself.

With the remaining strength granted by Bhakti, Maeror then strikes at Moxinomal, the cause of the current turmoil. He reaches to Mox's worshippers, and strips them of their bodies' natural Healing ability: no injury will close, no illness will be fought; all sickness will become fatal. The followers of Moxinomal will not survive.

[The other 2DRP from Bhakti.]

*

An order is sent to the priests of Maeror in the lands of Undine, Adomorn, and Vadhaka: They are granted permission to proselytise. Strict orders are given against preaching to the worshippers of any gods other than our enemies--Mithyaat, Mox, Astavyastataa, and Argothoth; the unaligned are also fair game for conversion. We shall strive to gain as many new followers as we can from among our enemies and the undecided.

Removing Mox's followers ability to heal themselves was Bhakti's idea.

Your people are pulled away from Ai-Lamentum, Fort Hope and the Domain of Destruction, and find refuge in northern Immeril. Or is warned to escape, but the dragon, rather than fleeing, retreats to the temple and coils around your statue. "I have still some measure of power, my Lord", he says softly, "and I am weary, so very weary... let me give my last power to the city I have loved, and to the god I have worshiped, that both may survive and that they may remember Or, one day, when the world is at peace again." He pauses. "I have served you well, my Lord, have I not?" He asks, before laying down and closing his eyes...
The time disruption passes over Ai-Lamentum, twisting everything in its wake, making so that nothing ever existed...
... nothing save Ai-Lamentum, protected by the last of the true Dragons of Eiran, whose immortal spirit embraced the city and held it safe from the ravages of undone time. And when the time disruption flees, the city still stands, empty but triumphant, its streets as silent as they had been when it was rediscovered. And around the pedestal of your statue in your temple lies coiled a great dragon of stone... a memorial to the courage, the strength, the wisdom and power of Or, the Last of the Dragons.

Vadhaka Chorah's illusion wraiths spirit Admar and the other defenders of Fort Hope away, shortly before Norn raises her interdiction and you send the spirits of the dead to man the walls of the Fort. Shortly afterwards, Argothoth's time disruption moves over Fort Hope, obliterating it and everything around it.

The time distortion meant my misdirections were wasted, but it was worth a try.

We are now up to the final turn. As a last-ditch attempt to gain allies in the war, I turned to a group that noone had made any use of in the game, hopnig that they would provide an attack from an angle the enemies hadn't expected.

A respite was not far, for those who suffered from the actions of gods, but for one more season, the goods must guard themselves against their enemies. Maeror's people recovered; too few were available to do their part in the battle that still continued. The prophet, Admar Tellem Meckros, led a band of god-blessed soldiers south, into the lands of Lord Adomorn, to join the battle on the side of Honour. The youngest race, the Wampyr, fought at their sides, by old methods and new. But their numbers, also, grew slowly. The Lord was in need of allies.
He turned to one source that had been long untapped, ignored by gods old and new, and left to suffer the ills of the god-driven suffering that gripped the world alone. They needed his aid, as he needed theirs. In the west he sought them, in the far reaches of Olaern that had gone unexplored: the Centaurs, a powerful, resourceful race, once far-roaming but now, their numbers dwindling, confined to this small region of the world. To them he brought his plea, begging they aid in the defence of Eiran against the forces of Argothoth and Astavyastataa Kadna. If any of their number choose to offer the aid he asks, he will send his blessing across the whole of their race: a blessing of Life and Health, a chance for their race to survive and grow once more.

A few responded, but instead of joining the battle immediately like I intended they just "delared themselves ready to serve". Since it was the last turn, I wouldn't get the opportunity to send them to battle; still, I included fecundity in my Gift to account for my reward to them for responding.


And that, anticlimactic as it is, is that. The game is over, no more meddling--well, a little more that I skipped over in this post. But I'm saving that for my last entry: Creation.

[Fist and Faith]

Removing Mox's followers ability to heal themselves was Bhakti's idea.

Aw, garsh...


*bows*