The legs straddled the horizon. Extending from the furthermost west they arched towards the north and south, quivering with pain and passion, the muscles standing out in stark relief. Amniotic fluid gushed from the pudenda, seeming to extinguish the setting sun beneath.
Divine cries of distress reverberated through the aether, too low for mortals to hear, but causing gods to turn away in mortification and goddesses to wince in sympathy. The screeches held a note of reprobation as well as agony, of the shame of single motherhood and the loneliness and despair that accompanies such a state.
As the moon arose in the east, the cervix began to dilate. Uterine contractions caused ripples in the heavens as if a divine wind blew through the stars. Waves of mutation from the moon interacted with these ripples, causing a stunning interaction of divine power in a band from north to south across the entire sky. The cervix continued to dilate, mirroring the moon rising on the opposite side of the sky. Love and hate blossomed from the west: love of form and hatred of ideology. The moon, buffeted and attracted simultaneously, stuttered and started in its traverse.
The cervix gaped now, fully extended. Nothing visible emerged as yet. No demigod’s crown appeared. An almighty contraction, accompanied by an agonised scream, seemed to suck the mutating might of the moon in a concentrated beam deep into the west, and as the contraction relaxed, something shot forth towards the moon. A black mass, crackling with lines of fire and divine force, launched itself across the sky at the moon.
Divine eyes widen as they anticipate an apocalyptic collision! But the projectile (child?) does not intercept the moon; it whistles by, and is caught in orbit around the moon. The waves of mutation issuing from the moon stop momentarily, then return. But something has changed.
Pantheon - The Third Age - Game Thread
Moderator: Xar
And yet, you have been waging war with me for years, killing countless thousands. Self deception is an interesting thing, is it not? But have it your way. Do not fight me. But meet with me and oppose me Peacefully so we can be done with this. After all this time, we are of equal strength. How many more must die as we achieve... nothing.Bel wrote:You challenge the Lord of Peace to combat? That barely warrants a reply. Your constant attempts to hinder Peace are what has brought us to this point, and there will be no answer but the complete eradication of your taint from this world.
"... and I will bestow abundant gifts and blessings upon my little nieces and nephews who desire the embrace of their big Uncle Rothmog. ohohohoh"
I sought a cleansing of the Twisted Lands, and you intervened, aligning yourself and your followers against the path of purity. You condemned yourself to the fate that awaits you.
I will not face you, in no small part because I will not trust the word of those who foster violence and ally themselves with War. There is no equality when your allies stand ready to stab me in the back.
You were long ago judged anathema when you chose to assault my people. Your blight will be purged in the way that I see fit, not in a manner of your choosing.
I will not face you, in no small part because I will not trust the word of those who foster violence and ally themselves with War. There is no equality when your allies stand ready to stab me in the back.
You were long ago judged anathema when you chose to assault my people. Your blight will be purged in the way that I see fit, not in a manner of your choosing.
Si vis pacem, para bellum
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O-gon-cho
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Ah Brid!Brid wrote:Divine cries of distress reverberated through the aether, too low for mortals to hear, but causing gods to turn away in mortification and goddesses to wince in sympathy. The screeches held a note of reprobation as well as agony, of the shame of single motherhood and the loneliness and despair that accompanies such a state.
For nine months you refused my succour as Birth while you carried your child, casting me out from uplifting and comforting you as mortals cast out your followers.
And now your progeny dances with the moon, denying even you, its mother, its embrace.
You followed me in to the Sunrise. Why do you yet turn away from me so?
Grandmother looked kindly at him, sensing his despair. “I understand, my child, how much it hurts,” she began, seeing that her words made no impact. She straightened up and considered him. She wanted to help ease his pain but did not know how. Then, she remembered a story she had heard as a girl.
Then she began, “There is a legend of the gods of old, Bhakti and Jove. Bhakti was the god of love and Jove, his wife loved him well. But they were not to be upon Eiran for long for the Interdiction of the Second Age had been carried out by the All-Fatherer and the gods left Eiran and went to their destinies. Bhakti and Jove waved goodbye to their children, Zephyr, Tamarisk, Calais, and the last who had yet to be named. So much was Jove’s regard for Bhakti that she took the essence of this child and created a small, heart-shaped ruby the size of a dew drop to encase her in. Jove buried the ruby in the ground as one last remembrance of her beloved husband for Eiran.
“ As the gods left, the Abyss overtook Eiran and the World Breaker expanded it to rip across the continents, breaking it into shreds, its scars reminding Eiran of him. In that shuddering, the ruby had been lost into the Abyss. It fell into the hands of the denizens of the Darkness who found the ruby beautiful and saw the divine spark within it. It became their plaything and the ruby suffered.
“In darkness and evil, the ruby existed, not understanding the cruelty being done to it, wanting the warmth of its mother and the love of its father. Its internal fire and divinity became an irresistible draw for the demons and evil beings of the Abyss. They coveted it relentlessly, fought over it, but never let it out of their sight.
“Until a Prime Demon finally took control of it, wearing the ruby as a broach on its chest. Yet, the Prime Demon could not tolerate the ruby, so beautiful and full of love, so close to its skin. It was an abomination to the demon. In hatred, it cast the ruby aside, leaving it to the oblivion of the Abyss, a bright light in the darkness of doom. The Demon issued an edict that the ruby must never see Eiran or the demons would see the end of the Abyss.
“The ruby was once again in the hands of the lower demons, the cruel demons, selfish, angry, ugly, and evil. They abused the ruby, controlled it. They kept it hidden, controlled its divine spark, curtailed its goodness, lest its spark light the darkness.
“This control made the ruby stronger for it could only pity those creatures that did harm to it. It saw the torture the denizens of the Abyss suffered at the hands of the Prime Demons and the Prime Demons from the Ruler of the Abyss - the World Breaker. The cruelty of the world the ruby existed in was unimaginable. Only the ruby could survive, having been given the gifts of its parents.”
Grandmother paused and looked at her grandson again, sensing that he was not listening. She needed to pull his attention to her so that she could make him understand that this was not the end of the world. She needed to make him understand that he would laugh – and love – again.
She continued, “The ruby existed in hell until Simjen, the Smith came to repair the Abyss.” The young man looked up as she said this, now listening. Grandmother’s eyes sparkled and she pressed on.
“Simjen’s work on the Abyss created frantic movement from the demons. Their attention drifted from the ruby and it seized upon the moment to escape so that it could spread its love all over Eiran!”
Grandmother paused and looked intently at him, willing him to understand her message. But, she saw that she had failed because he bent his head and began to weep.
“Don’t you see?” Grandmother said. “You are now in the Abyss. Priscilla may have shunned your love but your chance to escape doom will come, too. Be patient and your moment will come.”
The young man stood up. “It was a nice story, Grandmother. Thank you.” He left the cottage without a backward glance. He walked toward the new forest of crystal, not noticing its brilliance in the afternoon sun.
He strode through the shimmering trees, a myriad of colors bouncing off his skin. All he could see was white through his tears.
She didn’t want me. How will I live? Priscilla, Priscilla.
He fell to his knees in anguish, unrequited love emanating from his very bones. Beneath him, the ground was warm. It began to pulse and throb, like the sound of a heartbeat.
His sobs stopped as he opened his eyes and listened. He sat up, quiet, questioning in his eyes. Under his hand, he felt the crystal ground grow warmer and warmer. Looking down, he saw a small red stone – a ruby. It was beating, warm, and giving off a red glow.
Picking it up, the glow surrounded him like smoke.
Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away.
For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone;
The flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the LOVE is heard in our land.
James lifted his head. Where the sorrow had been was now replaced by a love incomparable to anything he had ever felt.
Then she began, “There is a legend of the gods of old, Bhakti and Jove. Bhakti was the god of love and Jove, his wife loved him well. But they were not to be upon Eiran for long for the Interdiction of the Second Age had been carried out by the All-Fatherer and the gods left Eiran and went to their destinies. Bhakti and Jove waved goodbye to their children, Zephyr, Tamarisk, Calais, and the last who had yet to be named. So much was Jove’s regard for Bhakti that she took the essence of this child and created a small, heart-shaped ruby the size of a dew drop to encase her in. Jove buried the ruby in the ground as one last remembrance of her beloved husband for Eiran.
“ As the gods left, the Abyss overtook Eiran and the World Breaker expanded it to rip across the continents, breaking it into shreds, its scars reminding Eiran of him. In that shuddering, the ruby had been lost into the Abyss. It fell into the hands of the denizens of the Darkness who found the ruby beautiful and saw the divine spark within it. It became their plaything and the ruby suffered.
“In darkness and evil, the ruby existed, not understanding the cruelty being done to it, wanting the warmth of its mother and the love of its father. Its internal fire and divinity became an irresistible draw for the demons and evil beings of the Abyss. They coveted it relentlessly, fought over it, but never let it out of their sight.
“Until a Prime Demon finally took control of it, wearing the ruby as a broach on its chest. Yet, the Prime Demon could not tolerate the ruby, so beautiful and full of love, so close to its skin. It was an abomination to the demon. In hatred, it cast the ruby aside, leaving it to the oblivion of the Abyss, a bright light in the darkness of doom. The Demon issued an edict that the ruby must never see Eiran or the demons would see the end of the Abyss.
“The ruby was once again in the hands of the lower demons, the cruel demons, selfish, angry, ugly, and evil. They abused the ruby, controlled it. They kept it hidden, controlled its divine spark, curtailed its goodness, lest its spark light the darkness.
“This control made the ruby stronger for it could only pity those creatures that did harm to it. It saw the torture the denizens of the Abyss suffered at the hands of the Prime Demons and the Prime Demons from the Ruler of the Abyss - the World Breaker. The cruelty of the world the ruby existed in was unimaginable. Only the ruby could survive, having been given the gifts of its parents.”
Grandmother paused and looked at her grandson again, sensing that he was not listening. She needed to pull his attention to her so that she could make him understand that this was not the end of the world. She needed to make him understand that he would laugh – and love – again.
She continued, “The ruby existed in hell until Simjen, the Smith came to repair the Abyss.” The young man looked up as she said this, now listening. Grandmother’s eyes sparkled and she pressed on.
“Simjen’s work on the Abyss created frantic movement from the demons. Their attention drifted from the ruby and it seized upon the moment to escape so that it could spread its love all over Eiran!”
Grandmother paused and looked intently at him, willing him to understand her message. But, she saw that she had failed because he bent his head and began to weep.
“Don’t you see?” Grandmother said. “You are now in the Abyss. Priscilla may have shunned your love but your chance to escape doom will come, too. Be patient and your moment will come.”
The young man stood up. “It was a nice story, Grandmother. Thank you.” He left the cottage without a backward glance. He walked toward the new forest of crystal, not noticing its brilliance in the afternoon sun.
He strode through the shimmering trees, a myriad of colors bouncing off his skin. All he could see was white through his tears.
She didn’t want me. How will I live? Priscilla, Priscilla.
He fell to his knees in anguish, unrequited love emanating from his very bones. Beneath him, the ground was warm. It began to pulse and throb, like the sound of a heartbeat.
His sobs stopped as he opened his eyes and listened. He sat up, quiet, questioning in his eyes. Under his hand, he felt the crystal ground grow warmer and warmer. Looking down, he saw a small red stone – a ruby. It was beating, warm, and giving off a red glow.
Picking it up, the glow surrounded him like smoke.
Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away.
For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone;
The flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the LOVE is heard in our land.
James lifted his head. Where the sorrow had been was now replaced by a love incomparable to anything he had ever felt.
Many waters cannot quench love, neither can floods drown it. There is no fear in love; for perfect love cast out fear.
Deities of Eiran,
It has come to Our attention that a priest of Argothoth is attempting to begin a cult to that falled deity. You have all heard the echo of Argothoth's power, starting faintly in turn 8 and now a steadily growing echo. We believe that this cult is responsible for the capturing of souls that resulted in Our divinity, and is now involved in imprisoning the dead souls of Our own followers. We imagine that this cult has also targetted the souls of other deities' followers.
This will not be permitted.
We intend to act on this matter regardless, but any information that others of you may have would certainly facilitate Our actions.
The Numen
It has come to Our attention that a priest of Argothoth is attempting to begin a cult to that falled deity. You have all heard the echo of Argothoth's power, starting faintly in turn 8 and now a steadily growing echo. We believe that this cult is responsible for the capturing of souls that resulted in Our divinity, and is now involved in imprisoning the dead souls of Our own followers. We imagine that this cult has also targetted the souls of other deities' followers.
This will not be permitted.
We intend to act on this matter regardless, but any information that others of you may have would certainly facilitate Our actions.
The Numen
Nothing rhymes with orange!
Yes, it is sad that Calais met her end. We loved her well. Yet, we are now given the chance to make right the past.Yes, Arcadia. I'm extremely pleased to see you. I wish it was not on the heels of tragedy. But Love is a most welcome thing on Eiran.
Many waters cannot quench love, neither can floods drown it. There is no fear in love; for perfect love cast out fear.
