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 Stars and stars and stars. Nothing but falling stars for seemingly ages. All of a sudden, though, with little fanfare and even less expectation, it is over. Quicker than a snap of your holy fingers. The stars disappear and you find yourself falling not through space but through an actual atmosphere. It’s pleasant and it's certainly a welcome change of pace -- even if it will end with a crash. And as you hurtle towards a mysterious tropical island in the middle of a great void-sea you look around and you notice that you are not alone.  They are gods, like you. Weakened, like you. Trapped on this island for 500 years, like you. You know all of this immediately because you are divine. Welcome to 10,000 War Gods.  THE NEW GODS Crashing here together are six gods of war. Haaramhaa, the everwatching winter lord. Huiletos, the knightly ideal. Hust, the pest and pestmaker. Ironsides, the English champion. Ran, the wild thunderer. And Yachalador, the end of empires. Whether they will become family, friends, or foes we don’t know. Whether they will all survive the next 500 years, we don’t know either. THE WORLD This island is obscenely tropical. Like a mad dreamer’s wild idea of how an island should be. Everything is intense. The colors. The sounds. It's all lush, green jungles. Beautiful, pouring waterfalls. White, sandy beaches. Vibrantly multicolored birds. A volcano. The works. As wonderous as this island might be, though, there is nothing else in the entire world. No stars. No clouds. Just a single sun and the endless, surrounding ocean. And the ocean itself is a drab gray. You cannot sense any wildlife swimming within it. In fact, you get the feeling that you should probably avoid those waters all together if possible. They weaken your divine power. At first, you may have assumed this island was devoid of any sentient life. There are no cities. No towns. There aren’t even any villages. But there are a kind of… people here. Hairless, eyeless, drably gray people with long fingers and no clothes and little sense of self. They wander through the jungle grasping blindly for birds and bugs that they can smash into their mouthholes. They are the Ukus. You know this because you are divine. But even if you weren’t divine, you’d probably call them that anyway because it’s the only thing they can say: Uku! Uku! Oooh-kooo! They repeat this like pitifully deranged pokemon. They could be useful. With a little shaping. PLAYING THE GAME Acting in the World This game is pretty standard. Post with your character name and location in bold at the top of your post, preferably with location. Describe their actions. If they do anything particularly divine, add an OOC section at the bottom explaining their actions. Keep track of your current AP, FP, and damage. Here's a template:quote: quote:[icon] On a regular basis, I'll check the thread for actions, roll for the results, and narrate them in a new post. Your updates will have your Icon above them. Major posts will happen Fridays and Mondays. Mondays will also be the end of one century and the beginning of the next. Starting AP You start off with 7 AP.
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Jun 5, 2018 07:18
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THE GODSTheantero posted:
Speleothing posted:
KhediveRex posted:
MiltonSlavemasta posted:
Tricky Dick Nixon posted:
AJ_Impy posted:
THE DEMIGODS KhediveRex posted:
KhediveRex posted:
Theantero posted:
Tyrannosaurus fucked around with this message at 05:08 on Jun 19, 2018 |
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Jun 5, 2018 07:19
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 Yachalador - The Impact Site AP: 4/7, FP: 0/0, Damage: None After an eternity of falling, a moment of impact. Yachalador was fortunate, - as Weal and Woe, how could he not be? - and suffered no significant injury on arrival to this place, which he understood to be his prison for the next half a local millennium. No, not his prison. Their prison. Five other deities, their powers attenuated as much as his were, and by 'strange coincidence', all of a similar martial bent. How very intriguing. Still, as the Golden Autumn, he could hardly be inhospitable. War required polities and conflict between them, and prior to conflict, there needed to be contact. So, to the other divinities, he communicated, "I bid you welcome and greetings, you who share my fate upon this place. I suspect we have all become aware of whom we all are, so I'll spare you introductions unless you wish or require them. Now, I would not deem to speak on your behalves, but I for one intend to make this little oubliette island a little more comfortable and to my liking for the time we have to spend here. I believe I shall start with these mortals, such as they are. I don't know about the rest of you, but I for one think that just hearing them say 'Uku' for centuries without end will swiftly get old, and ending the old to usher in the new is my divine purpose. So, I shall work my will with a few choice fortuitous mutations and subtle blessings to ensure there's a little more variety to the audible landscape, so to speak. You are welcome to leave me to it, or to add your own little twist should you be so inspired, I do not mind either way." He turned his attention to the Ukus, drawing deep upon his well of divine power to tweak their genome in a few unexpected ways for select individuals, with the intended consequence of improving their vocal chords and auditory processing capabilities, plus whatever unintended consequences might tag along for the ride. The end result he also poured his energies into, intending to ensure a beautiful complexity and diversity as, if successful, a resultant language developed, using his dominion over opulence to grant them a rich vocabulary, a true wealth of loquacious verbiage. OOC: Spending 3 AP, 1 to act upon the Uku to enhance their ability to communicate, 1 to invoke the Luck domain for random beneficial genetic mutations to the Uku with the intention of enhancing their vocal chords and speech processing capability, 1 to invoke the Opulence domain to give the Uku a rich language with a wealth of new words to work with.
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Jun 5, 2018 14:24
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 Haaramhaa - The Volcano AP: 4/7, FP: 3, Damage: None Yachalodor's words were answered. Not particularly quickly, but neither did the message tarry unduly long. "I am Haaramhaa", the words proclaimed, each one drawn out as if they'd taken a thousand years to form. "I bring Peace." Nothing else was said, for now. This suited Haaramhaa just fine, for he in many ways preferred action to words. And to action he took. Now, it was not particularly quick action, indeed, Haaramhaa somehow managed to seem plodding even when he was falling down. But Haaramhaa knew that he had more than enough time, and that hurrying was unnecessary. Thus he fell, as a great, crystal clear comet trailing a band of frost that gradually scattered to the winds. He fell, and he fell, gradually gaining great and terrifying momentum. But even then, the transcendental stillness of his nature made the sight seem almost serene. Then Haaramhaa crashed directly into the great roiling caldera of the Island's Volcano with every shred of divine power he could muster. The divine quiet was instantly shattered in a thunderous roar as if it had been naught but a thin sheet of ice all along. This he did, because Haaramhaa had identified the volcano as the most conspicuous agent of chaos on the entire island. Thus, its very existence displeased him deeply. So deeply in fact, that he could not allow for it to exist. Immediately after impact, Haaramhaa started to root in his power into the Volcano. The elemental forces of raging fire and heat he would quell, and wrestle into submission until naught of the mountain's temperamental nature was left standing. And in so doing, he would transform its very nature from a progenitor of sudden bursts of violent destruction to a generator of steadily advancing Peace, as lava was replaced by rolling glaciers and smoke with eternal snowfall. Yes. He would turn this thing he found most malignant into the very center of his power. Of his expansion. And in so doing, he would herald the arrival of Peace to the Island. OOC: Haaramhaa is going to crash into the volcano and transform it fundamentally, so that it starts to push out glacier, snow and ice instead of heat and lava. It will be the starting point of his expansion. Spending 3 AP, 1 to act upon the Volcano, 1 to invoke Ice [+2] because Ice is what is going to be made, and 1 to invoke Peace [+2] to quieten the raging flame into a nice, cotemplative glacier. Also tagging Stagnancy 3 times for a +6 because Haaramhaa is taking down this big honking landmark of roiling flame and turning it into a still bastion of his power.
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Jun 5, 2018 18:06
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 Huiletos, the Chivalrous - The Untamed Jungle Patron of Knights, Poet of Battle, Exemplar to Lovers Domains: Aristocracy, Romance, Battle Hungers: Pomp & Circumstance, the Inflamed Heart, Poetry AP: 5/7 || FP:0 || Damage: None At first, Huiletos tried lying on his back. But the sky was far too boring. Then on his side, but no interesting beasts emerged from the forest. Then on his stomach, but no beetles or ants did anything to amuse him. So he walked through the jungle for a while and learned the facts of this island. Of course, he already knew the geography from far above, and as a god could just fly from place to place, but life under the canopy is different from life in a palace or a keep. And if Huiletos is forced to spend time here, then he would need to find ways to indulge his interests and not just be a face in the sky. He saw a lovely yellow songbird the size of a cat, and there was a fat little rodent that had a no-nonsense face and a patterned tail. He finally ran into a cluster of Uku, one could hardly call them bands, and tribes are a long way off. For a day he, invisibly, observed them more closely. What a dreary race of mortals. The birds & bugs they ate were more interesting. Though with less raw potential than beings with hands, Huiletos chose to skip the lesser beasts for now. And he saw that other gods had also begun to work upon them. But too slow. Too slow. Of what use is words without culture? Of culture without society? To speak ideas is good, but first they must have ideas worth speaking! And so he lept into the sky and as his cloak fluttered behind him, he worked his spell upon the Uku across the island. First, and most importantly, he instilled in their hearts a sort of ambition. Actually, anything much would be good, they were so boring. But ambition, that was a start. The better ones would climb to the top and command the natural followers as clans and tribes. Within a year there would be a proper sort of heirarchy, if the spell went right. The many would gather food, some would craft and create, a handful of the fiercest would guard the rest. And from among that handful, would arise true leaders. Secondly, and quite practically in his opinion, Huiletos magiced into being a supply of simple tools. 500 years would just not suffice to create all of genteel society without a big push. They barely used sharp stones or fire, for Pantheon's sake! This would take a lot of luck, but perhaps other gods would take up some of the burden. "Hear me, my fellow gods! I gift unto these sad mortals the simplest of axes, spades, baskets, ropes, and knives. Let us show them how to use such things and make them. There is no time to waste!" 1AP and Aristocracy +2 to kickstart the formation of complex Uku society. 1 AP to provide them with tools and toolmaking, though it's not in my domain. Speleothing fucked around with this message at 04:07 on Jun 6, 2018 |
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Jun 6, 2018 04:05
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The sun doesn’t move. That becomes almost immediately obvious. Hour after hour, it simply hangs there in the sky. Motionless and warm. This isn’t exactly unpleasant. It just means that it feels like it’s always about... 10:15 in the morning. Maybe 10:30. Sunny with a light breeze. It started, as these things tend to do, with a little bit of luck. One nameless Uku, despite having failed to properly wring a bird’s neck, tried to shovel the small creature into its mouth anyway. The bird made quite the ruckus as it was chewed upon. Other nearby Ukus took notice. They imitated what they heard. Nothing had really been stopping them from making different sounds before this moment. It just hadn’t occurred to anything of them that they should. Of course, after they started making these new sounds, it seemed awfully important to keep doing so. This small, strange band of Ukus became enraptured with their own voices. They took up whistling. They mimicked birdsong. In time this would birth a language all on it’s own. But the Golden Autumn doesn’t have thousands of years to wait. He doesn’t have the time nor the patience nor the interest. Giving the Ukus language: 2d6+4 8 Yachalador is successful in imparting words upon a small group of Ukus. While the language they speak isn’t particularly rich or verbose (they tend to compound words rather than create new ones -- waterplace instead of lake, waterfast instead of river, waterfall instead of… well… yeah, actually that one’s the same) they absolutely treasure it. And they sing. All the time. Language will spread on it's own but for now it’s centered around about 50 individuals. They are well on their way to creating a community. The volcano warred like a god. It didn’t just resist the Lord of Winter’s machinations, it actively fought them. Rocks split, flames hissed, lava burst forth through frozen cracks. Each time he froze over some small part of the volcano, another would rupture and explode. Temperatures plummeted then soared then crashed again. Deep did the Eternal Warden reach to grab the essence of this chaotic fire. He felt it pulse. Like a heartbeat. He felt it grab onto him just as he grabbed onto it. The volcano warred like a god but it wasn’t one. It’s power was fearsome and primal but it was not divine. Haaramhaa imposed his will. Deep under the earth, he felt the chaos retreat. And it was good. Taming a volcano: 2d6+10 19 Haaramhaa is successful. The island is tropical so the outside of the volcano will remain much as it was before. But the deeper one ventures inside, the colder it gets. It’s a good start, as far as basebuilding goes, and it will become increasingly more glacial as long as Haaramhaa continues to keep it as his seat of power. It probably should have an official name.  It started, as these things tend to do, with a little bit of murder. One nameless Uku was not very good at catching birds. Not as good as his neighbor anyway. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t hungry. He grabbed a rock, he bashed his neighbor’s head in, and then he ate the bird his neighbor had caught. This caught on quickly and Uku either learned to kill or they learned to die. The groups’ numbers dwindled frighteningly fast but the few that remained alive were strong. And eager. Protective alliances were silently made and silently broken. Large rocks (good for bashing) and sharp rocks (good for cutting) became prized possessions and were hidden, stored, and stolen with great frequency. Form an Uku society: 2d6+2 11 A primitive hierarchy has begun to develop. Unlike the Ukus under Yachalador’s watch, these are more individualistic and more violent. They are more like hyenas in behavior than they are like men. We’re a long way off from a proper society. This behavior is contagious and will eventually spread to other Ukus. And things will continue down this path unless something interferes. Giving the Ukus tools: 2d6 9 Already they have begun to use weapons. Complexity will increase over the upcoming years. *** AP Count: Haaramhaa - 4/7 Huiletos - 4/7 Hust - 7/7 Ironsides - 7/7 Ran - 7/7 Yachalador - 4/7
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Jun 6, 2018 08:58
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 Ran, the Thrice-Exiled - The FirmamentDomains: Heroism, War, Insanity | Hungers: Hopeless Causes, Victory Denied | AP: 6/7 | FP: 1 Though she has fallen a great way, the many-armed goddess does not let herself plunge into the landscape. Throwing her broken crown like a chakram at great alacrity, she creates a burst of cloud and sound, upon which her bare feet land, the many bangles and pierced jewelry shaking and bringing with it a chiming song that accompanies her. As the crown returns to her hand, she carves the cloud with a shear until it is the shape of a dhow, a small ship beneath her feat to sail therein upon the sky above, roiling with red like blood with each cut of her sixfold weapons. One of her faces is transfixed by the golden sphere affixed to the center of the firmament, and immediately she finds her first foe. Clutching the vajra, she raises it above her head as it crackles and begins to accumulate her divine energy and focus, while with one of her other hands she points with her spear at the sun. "The third age will be known when you turn your face away from the world, and are eclipsed by the new champion of this plane, who is to be the son of Ran." With this proclamation the energy is manifest from vajra to expanding thunderbolt. With a third hand she raises her bow, and strings the thunderbolt as if it were an arrow, raising it in a high arc above to face there at the Firmament. With a sound of thunder that rumbles throughout the island, an arc of lightning explodes from a red cloud, and strikes the life-giving son. With it, she hopes to wound it, and bring down its blood. It is a display of godly might, an immediate drama play that even simple beings might understand of a challenger. It is a teachable lesson, as she commits to one of the first visible acts of the new gods of this island: The Sunstroke. What it might wreak upon the world, it is hard to say. It was done with no other intent but to begin the true quest before them, and reveal to the world that the gods were present. Spending 1 AP and taking 1 FP from Hunger: Hopeless Causes by declaring war on the sun, and by extension, the Firmament that defines this plane and the natural laws of this place, a foolish and possibly fruitless endeavor. The intended effect is ambiguous, and I'm very free to give you as the Narrator free reign to make the Sunstroke into a effect that is either good for the gods (if high) or bad for the gods (if low), but ultimately, it should reveal to the simple Ukus the workings of the gods and give them a basis for initial cosmogony, and will play into other actions I intend later along those lines, which I'll tag. An enemy. A quest. A wound. A new aspect. So long has she been the rebel, but now it would be different. She would be the harbinger, the herald, but it would not be her hand that would finish the blow. She would instead be the one to arm it, train it, birth it. But she would need more elements. She had her sixfold panoply, but she would need other things for her Heir to inherit. There would need to be a People to rule. There would need to be a Kingdom to protect. There would need to be an Enemy to fight. There would need to be a Heresy to deny. And of course, there would need to be a Consort. Yachalador, the Venal Victim - The Impact ZoneShe arrives on a chariot driven by twisting lions of red fog, and as it crashes into the earth before him, she is upon her feet, weapons drawn and held about her like a halo, the ground itself trembling as she approaches. As he adorns his surroundings with his own natural opulence, and whispers things to the simple-minded Uku, she all but swipes what is before him aside. Her aspect is far more demonic, her skin red and tongue lashing out between fanged teeth. Her hair under her headdress is black and wild, having a life all its own like writhing tentacles, and she barely wears anything but jewels and the decapitated heads of the peoples of many other worlds. "Fool that you are, the End of Empires has come before there is anything to End, back to the Beginning. You seek to reap a harvest from an untilled field, and pour ideas into vessels that spill over and crack from the weight. Do you think you deserve a place among us, when you are but as the loathsome leech, a parasite to pluck before it bleeds me dry? I, the Thunder that Tolls, Challenge your right to stand among the gods. Name your contest, and I will lay you low." Pinging your Hungers, of course. She is of course ceding the advantage entirely by giving you the ability to do your contract devil thing and name your contest, and then she will name the exact stakes based on our context, along the lines of what we briefly discussed on Discord. Haaramhaa, the Peril of Peace - The Frozen VolcanoAll it takes is for Ran to turn aside, and her other aspect is shown as she appears before the Eternal Warden, draped in white furs and her skin an ice blue. A third eye has opened upon her head, and all three are crystalline. Yet a strange fire erupts where she walks, and the ice wilts like flowers in her immediate presence, her panoply shifting such that she bears the shield first before her, the others curled back at the ready rather than with the immediate challenge, more a caution in her manner. "What do you stand for Jailer? You have washed away one thing, but will you preserve that which is immutable and law already? What price will you pay for Peace when all others are married to war? Is there a single thing that might warm that heart buried in the glacier? It may matter, not: Stand between me and the hated sun, and perish under the heels of the Firstborn, who shall be known as the Lastlife should your Winter finally come." Not a Challenge but something of a warning and sounding out Haaramha's intentions, and of course doing her courtship in her own special way. Huiletos, the Extra Exemplar - The Untamed JungleShe turns a third and final time, her skin turning into a lush gold, a mockery of the now hated sun, appearing before the chivalrous Huiletos. Her hair is curly locks of black, plaited in braids down each side in dizzying displays. She wears fine velvet dress that does not restrict the movements of her elegant weapons, which dance around her in coordinated motion, and she demures and never looks at him directly, only from the side as she dances around the knight, stepping here and there amid the carnage and violence he had intentionally or not, inflicted upon the jackal men of the Uku. "The first act a tragedy, Poet of Battles, but this is but the first breath. You must give them more, because what will they fight for if they do not yet have something to believe in? Only the carnal. So take it, and forge it like fire does steel. I have shown them all the gods exist among them. They should love us, fear us, want to be us, as lovers want to live within each other. I would gift them the ability to enter our world for a time and learn what it means to be more than this. But I will need your help. Would you give me but a kiss?" Requesting aid in the form of spending an AP to gift me your Romance domain for an upcoming action to give the Uku a means to communicate with the gods, something along the lines of Heroquests. I'm looking to drop 3 AP on it myself for the action, and two domains. Tricky Dick Nixon fucked around with this message at 19:27 on Jun 6, 2018 |
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Jun 6, 2018 18:51
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Haaramhaa - The Seat of Serenity AP: 4/7, FP: 3, Damage: None Haaramhaa was still. This is how he preferred the state of being. In glimmering silence he sat, on the frigid body of his pacified foe. He sat, and observed the state of the World, feeling no desire to move, for now, and feeling no desire to be stirred. Yet the world did not heed his wishes. This was deeply displeasing to Haaramhaa. Ran, The Everfailing - The Seat of SerenityHaaramhaa, his figure imposing, titanic even, when compared to the form of the goddess addressing him, made no movements as she talked, merely watching on in patient, serene silence. Only after she was done, and only after total silence had vanquishes even the last echoes of her voice from his halls, did Haaramhaa reply, his words preceded by a long, rising rumble. "I stand for my Peace. As you do for your vain struggle." "Such is our nature." "Do you betray your nature for words or opposition?" "A glacier does not. It continues as far as it is able." A silence. As if Haaramhaa was pondering another question. "The Sun you may slay. My Peace will thrive, regardless." "And in death, the Sun will know peace." "It will not know Peace." "But it will suffice." After this, Haaramhaa said nothing more, and refused to be stirred. Only after Ran was about to make her way out, did a crisp echo bring back words spoken earlier. "I stand for my Peace. As you do for your vain struggle." "Yes", Haaramhaa replied to his own statement, "So it is." "Perhaps in the end, we shall both have what we want, o Lastlife." Then, silence. Huiletos, The Teacher of Murder - The Untamed JungleA baleful rift opened in the jungle, immediately flash freezing everything in its vicinity. In the middle of this anomaly rest an ember of pale blue that seemed to suck away all warmth from whatever it was looking at. And currently it was looking at Huiletos, giving off a piercing glare of disapproval. "Huiletos", a voice like the crumbling of ice sheets into the ocean, "Teacher of Murder. Teacher of Fright. Teacher of Discord." "You have brought death and pain to these creatures." "They asked for it not." "I find this intolerable." "Quell their murderous urges." "Embark on this quest, and my will shall follow." And with that, the rift disappeared, leaving naught but a patch of rapidly melting frost. OOC: Just chatting. Also, Haaramhaa is willing to use one AP to tag Peace [+2] if Huiletos initiates an action to pacify his murderer tribals into something a tad bit more functional.
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Jun 6, 2018 20:10
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Yachalador - The Impact Site AP: 4/7, FP: 0/0, Damage: None With Ran, the Challenger He looked on appreciatively as the insane Battlestar, a name she had lived up to with her very first action, made her entrance. That upon which he had been working was fortunate to escape lasting harm as it was swept from the exceedingly dangerous point of contact between two deities of war. Still, he held his ground, taking in the aspect that his challenger had chosen to wear, a similar complexion, jewels, the heads of the vanquished. All in all, a magnificent display both in its abrupt and immediate blatancy but also in its subtleties, the little nods of bespoke craftsgodship that personalised the visitation. She knew with whom she wished to speak, and he could gladly respect that. He drew himself up into a more combative aspect, his horns curving back into fractal infinities. In his right hand a field-marshal's baton, a repeating crossbow, and the concept of assuming control through political manipulation. In his left, the torch of an anarchist rebel, a flail with seventeen heads each secured with a chain of a different substance, and bringing the mighty low for their hubris. His suit remained immaculate, and he inclined his head to acknowledge the other deity. "I accept your challenge, Ran who mars the Sun. Know that in every ending, something new arises. I do not reap the untilled soil, for there can be no harvest without the growth of the crop, and often have I nurtured the seeds of the next to take root in the ashes of the previous, before that which goes before is even aflame. I am the Usher who lifts the curtain of the new, and I will have the respect I am due. My place is without question amongst our number. Our game board shall be these mortals, these blind, base things that squabble over raw, verminous prey, do battle with rocks, and barely comprehend one another. Our objective will be to have them create beauty, in one of its manifold forms. That is the contest: Name our stake." Round one, fight! His Hunger for Self-Aggrandisement has been roused and shall be unleashed in the contest.
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Jun 7, 2018 01:07
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 Hust - The Impact Site AP: 3/7 - FP: 1 - Damage: None Catastrophic speed compelled Hust ever closer to the looming ground below. The wind ripped his eyes wide, the sharp ring of velocity deafened him, he felt the searing burn of a punctured atmosphere, everything in his godly formed yearned for the sandy dunes that raced toward him like a long overdue meteor. He could taste this bright new world. It tasted sweet. An explosion of force sent sand erupting into the sky in a perfect mushroom cloud of earth. Miles away anyone could have seen the newest god's arrival. Those standing closer might have seen a diminutive figure rise from the crater, obscured by a cloud of dirt still settling around him. The small silhouette dusted off both of his shoulders before leaning over and shaking the particles of island out of his hair. He stared then, head turning slightly as though to observe a world he could not possibly discern through the deluge of sand now raining around him. And then, the shadow did something most peculiar. He dove into the ground. A couple quiet seconds passed. Hust was certainly still in the crater. How curious then to see the tiny god leave the cover of a vine-ridden trunk where the beach meets the tree line. He couldn't have left the crater, he would have been seen on the flat sand between his landing and his current destination. An yet, there he was, quietly observing the sea. "... It'll have to do." The god spoke. Hust always hated the first part of exile. There was no way to crash into the ground without being noticed. Anyone paying attention knows exactly where you start. Its a handicap he never liked to subject himself to, but not one he had to live with. Hust again fell into the ground, seeming to dive into his own shadow like a spector. Or a myth. The Uku would perhaps speak of this landing as a mystery, a legend. But Hust's fellow captives new exactly what had occurred. A God will always recognize his kin. The Uku? They were not so fortunate. Sometime later, indeterminable beneath that endless unmoving sun, an Uku of no special merit or stature walked blindly through the jungle, feeling in the void for the squirm of any edible life. And to his surprise, he heard a string of syllables that chilled him to his bones. A stream of fast noise that no Uku was capable of emitting. "Psst!" The voice said. "Psst! ... Hey you! A minute of your time! I need you for something! Something big!" The Uku shivered in fear but found himself stalking toward the source of the disturbance as if pulled by invisible ropes. And as he neared the sounds grew louder, faster. "Wow, buddy, someone really did a number on you! Not the best gods in this part of the world I take it, I mean, I've seen Bad but you hardly look Finished! Where are your eyes?! Your creator didn't know to give you eyes?! How do you ... Live?! Alright, alright, we'll get this sorted out you just gotta give me a minute, and your hand. I want your hand. Give me your hand!" The Uku felt a foreign warmth and suddenly, divine inspiration. It was all so clear now! The thing that he must do, the thing he must spend his life doing. Sweets! He would collect the sweets! He would deposit the sweets in one place without eating any of them! And then ... He would collect more sweets! The simple beauty of it! All the sumptuous fruits, all the sticky saps, every unctuous pod and bean in one temple. A temple of sweets! ... Although, thinking about it, Uku remembered that he didn't really know what a temple was... "It's a place where I live! Don't make this complicated just - Just get the sweets for me! I'm gonna make it worth your while, okay, it's gonna be great. You're primitive rush-job race gets eyes, Hust gets sweets, you get to do whatever the gently caress you're gonna do with eyes, I get the sweets ... It's a beautiful circle of giving me what I want. Just focus on that. Hust gets anything he wants. Hust deserves his sweets. Hust Deserves His Temple Of Sweets! Yeah? Now then, you're the first so, you're my favorite. Which means you get a little something special. When the rest of your people get eyes, you'll still be invisible to them, whenever you want to be. Anytime you want. You probably don't understand what that means yet but ... I don't really care. Just - Go do it! Okay!?" And like that, the voice was gone. And in his absence he left ... ... Colors ... And Uku saw colors quite like beetles and crabs marching in single file toward the Beach. One AP to Inspire a Mortal to serve as my Follower and Collect sweets for my temple. (Not a Domain Roll) One AP to Bless and Mortal with the powers of Stealth (+2 Stealth) One AP to Bestow the Uku with compound eyes (+2 Pests) One AP to Inspire Pests to collect at my temple of rotting fruits. (+2 Pests) +1 FP for ordering a Mortal to build me a temple out of Sweets.
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Jun 8, 2018 05:05
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Tyrannosaurus posted:
Dang, what rotten rolls Huiletos sighed. "You mere animals. You disappointing beasts. You're supposed to use the axes on the trees. And you ignored the baskets and the ropes. Look- a pile of baskets already woven for you to carry things and you didn't even notice. I admit knot tying is still a little beyond you; the ropes could have waited until next year. But still... What a mess." And, of course, a couple days of bloodshed and already the other gods had noticed. What a mess. Best to deal with them one at a time. No need to repeat the heiffer incident and get mailed to a different island. "Good greetings, Ran, ever-lovely. How glorious thy raiment, how brilliant thine eyes. How bold thy plans. A kiss you ask of me, yet what is a kiss to the goddess of many faces? To touch a finger with outstretched hand would overwhelm the senses. Fear not, my servants often said, and if only there was one such to announce you and give me chance to avert my eyes from beauty. A weak mortal needs greater protection still. Can such be found only in dreams? Or only in the whispers of birds? Or do you trust in shamen in smokey caves?" I'm interested in something, but not so aggressive a route. To the Ice King, he said "I erred in giving them hunger for wealth without the rule of morality. I therefore place upon them a love of cooperation and of family. With your aid I turn their ambition from violence to construction. Let them fell trees and build the longhouses for their children and parents. Let them carve totems and adorn themselves with shiny things. Let them compete in artistry and in display." Using Romance +2 and Pomp & Circumstance to give them a sense of familial obligation and moraluty, then to channel their impulses from violence to feats of engineering and artistry Speleothing fucked around with this message at 14:43 on Jun 8, 2018 |
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Jun 8, 2018 14:38
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A tiny black dot appears on the surface of the sun. It is rare for a god to miss, after all. It is more rare, though, for a sun to unexpectedly move. Like a horse snorting at a fly that had buzzed into its nostril, the sun jerks to one side and then the other and then the settles back into place. This has consequences. Twice does a burst of intense, blistering heat roll over the island. Soft fruit spoils. Birds shriek and beasts howl as creatures large and small are beset by panic and confusion. The Ukus, blind and unaware that an unmoving sun even existed, feel this sudden, sharp, painful change and become afraid. Afraid of the unknown. The heatwaves pass quickly and things return to normal. At least, environmentally speaking… As the saying goes, there are no atheists in a foxhole. The Ukus have been frightened out of their complacent, monotonous existence and have become much more susceptible to the divine. Also, if there is anyone else on this island, they are now most certainly aware of the presence of others. As Hust reached inside the head of his Chosen he realized that his little Uku-- and all Uku, really-- had not been created eyeless. Their eyes had been removed.  Yachalador’s small tribe went utterly silent for the first time since he’d given them words. They could see. They could see! There was so much to look at it that it was dizzying. A total sensory overload. Some Uku fell to the dirt, rubbing their eyes. Some simply stared, slack-jawed. There were colors and shapes and things that created sounds and things that created smells and little things and big things and -- Ukus began to laugh joyously-- there were so many things to see and everything needed a name! The Ukus of Huilletos were similarly stunned by the gift of vision. But, lacking the ability to put their experiences into words, they were confused longer. And frightened more. Give the Ukus eyes: 2d6+2 14 Everywhere, all at once, Ukus can suddenly see. At first, the savage Ukus stopped fighting because… well… they realized that perhaps they should hide their crude weapons in a better place than “literally anywhere.” They watched one another with untrusting eyes and scoured for secret places with which they might squirrel away their things. Those of them that still lived were physically impressive specimens. Fast. Strong. Unafraid to strike first. Imperfect. Huilletos breathed in them fanciful ideas of romance and gallantry, of families and feasts, of princess saving and dragon slaying. Not a lick of it made any real sense to the Ukus. But the concepts carried. Especially the one about castles. One by one, they crept out of the jungles and began pawing over the tools Huilletos had laid out before them. They eyed one another. Cautiously, slowly, ever-so-slowly, they began to share. They passed buckets and rope and knives back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Building trust. Every-so-slowly building trust. Chivalry: 2d6+4 12 A second community has been formed. Leaders will be emerge through strength and power and, by the end of this century, a solid hierarchy will be solidly established. Using the tools they have been given, they have begun to process of physically building a yet-unnamed-village and a wall with which to protect themselves. They are fearful-- especially of others-- and prone to violence. Blinking and staring out at the jungle, Hust's Chosen tried out the sounds. "Sweets," he said. "Sweets." There is comfort to be found in a realization of purpose. Especially in a frightening world. And the Ukus' world had become very, very frightening as of late. The Chosen liked his words. He liked his purpose. Sweets. He smiled and gratefully squeezed the hand of the Pestmaker. And then he set out to work. His God desired a place to live yet he himself had never known a home. The Chosen pondered this. A home. What would make a good home? It should be close to food, yes. It should be safe, yes. It should be soft. It should have lots of leaves, yes, lots of leaves. You can sleep on leaves. You can stand underneath them and be protected from the sun. You can cover yourself in them if you get cold. He slipped unnoticed through the jungle. Not even disturbing the birds. Perfect, thought the Chosen. Here. A great banyan tree. Massive and ancient. And in the main trunk there was already a hole. A safe hollow. He was very proud of himself. The heat wave had spoiled a tremendous amount of fruit and the Chosen raced through the jungle, collecting it and bringing it back to the tree. He worked tirelessly, embedded with divine energy, and created piles after pile after pile of rotting fruit. He was very proud of himself. Inspire an Uku: 2d6+6 15 Inspire pests to come to the temple: 2d6+2 7 The Chosen will have Hust’s temple by the end of the century. It will be strangely beautiful; bees will build hives in the branches and birth a veritable garden of hibiscus flowers in all surrounding directions. Amongst the flowers, ants will build towering mounds. The whole place will have a sickly sweet smell which grows fouler the closer one gets to the main trunk. Ukus will bring offerings of fruit. Those with language have begun praising him as The Eye Father. They pray to him for guidance in things for he is the one that gave them sight. Those without language still worship him in their own rudimentary way. Mostly by avoiding eating bugs. Hust has quite accidently become beloved. *** Two separate communities of mortal Ukus has formed. It is not too late to join them together if so desired by the gods. Small groups of disparate, unaffiliated wanderers also roam the jungles and the beaches. Yachalador is worshiped by his tribe. Huilletos is worshiped by his tribe. Hust is weirdly worshipped by everyone. AP Count: Haaramhaa - 3/7, 3 FP Huiletos - 2/7, 1 FP Hust - 0/7, 1 FP Ironsides - 7/7 Ran - 6/7, 1 FP Yachalador - 4/7 Tyrannosaurus fucked around with this message at 21:34 on Jun 8, 2018 |
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Jun 8, 2018 21:13
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Ironsides  "Primitive." Ironsides grimaces at the Uku. His fellows had made improvements, but to be a proper island nation, there was still much work to be done. He stroked his prominent chin, contemplating where to begin. "First," he looked down at the small portion beginning to speak, "This gift of language must be made more widespread. They will do nothing if they cannot speak to one another." He grew annoyed at the high lilting sounds and the nonsense "Uku! Uku!" and began to weave together an imagine in his mind, a simplified version of proper grammatical English, that would be imparted to the Uku as an idea in their mind. 3AP Action - 1AP to spread the gift of language around to as many Uku as possible, while encouraging the language to be more grammatically consistent and evolve as close to English as possible. 1AP to invoke England, 1AP to invoke Democracy, and the Order hunger for +6. "Second," he shakes his head at the two factions forming, "We must prevent these two tribes from fracturing, and give them a way to resolve disputes and exist in union." In the South of the Island, where the beach meets the forest, he wove together an idea. It was a greater idea than they were prepared for, but even if only in some small way, it might prevent too much factionalization and disputation. A simple place where the Uku could gather, deal with disputes between one another, and make decisions. Not yet a courthouse, not yet a parliament, but merely the first, faintest glimmer of the rule of law. "But they are so stupid. They cannot conduct a trial. There is only one way for them to settle disputes. The Duel 3AP action - 1AP to create a temple to Ironsides that functions as an all-Uku meeting place to resolve disputes and make decisions, mainly through trial by combat/dueling because that's the only thing appropriate to them at this time. 1AP to invoke the War domain, 1AP to invoke the England domain, and the Order hunger for +6. MiltonSlavemasta fucked around with this message at 22:55 on Jun 8, 2018 |
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Jun 8, 2018 21:55
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Haaramhaa - The Seat of Serenity AP: 0/7, FP: 3, Damage: None Haaramhaa gazed upon the works of Huiletos from his sanctum. He found the results passable, though no motion or show of emotion manifested to show his inner thoughts. Instead Haaramhaa merely sat, still, pondering the implications of this revelation. He thought long. On occasion, he also watched the other communities form, the Uku skitter every which way to appease powers they did not understand. Yes. Haaramhaa reached a conclusion. It was good that a semblance of peace had been brought to Huiletos' murderous lot. However, it did not suffice. An example of true Peace had to be brought to the Uku. And so, did Haaramhaa once more reach out from the depths of his lair, for the first time in decades. His reach took the form of a great blizzard that surged forth from the Seat of Serenity, and his grasp took the form of this blizzard making its way downhill, coating everything it touched in the bluish white embrace of Haaramhaa. Including the Uku near the mountain. Especially the Uku near the mountain. And in the Embrace of Haaramhaa's eternal frost, the Uku would know an ideal World. They would know a World where they would not need to know fear, for Haaramhaa's grasp freezed the quivering heart. They would know a World where they would not need to know confusion or ignorance, for Haaramhaa's grasp quelled the inquisitive soul. They would know a World where they would not need to know hunger, for Haaramhaa's grasp filled the pit in their stomach with eternal ice. They would know a World where all they needed to know was Peace. His Peace. And in their enlightenment, an example would be set, for the rest of the Uku and the rest of the Gods. An example of an ideal. OOC: a 3 AP action to extend Haaramhaa's grasp from the Seat of Serenity. The Volcano will belch out a great gout of snow, a metaphysical manifestation of Haaramhaa's power. It will gently fall over the sides and base of the volcano, reaching the Uku who live near it. These Uku will be the first to know Haaramhaa's Peace on this world. 1 AP to initiate, 1 AP to tag Ice [+2] and 1 AP to tag Peace [+2]
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Jun 8, 2018 22:40
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Hust - The Fetid Temple Ap: 0/7 - FP: 1 - Damage: None Hust was so proud. Sure, his temple wasn't finished exactly. But it was already more than he could have hoped for. Hills of loamy fruit speckled the grounds, seeping a sickly saccharine syrup into the soil. The scent of fermenting sugars surrounded his shrine, encircled by scuttling squads of hard-shelled, simple masterpieces scouting the succulent scenery. Cicadas soared and screeched, serpents slithered through the soft underbrush, sturdy crabs stalked over subtle ants surreptitiously scaling the fruited summits of this sudden paradise. The bees seeded the soil in their secret ways and soon the setting would be beset with a most singular set of flowers. It was a serenade of sensual beauty, serene and sophisticated. Hust sighed satisfaction splayed below that shimmering summer sun, sampling another sumptuous sip of sugary sap. “Sancutary” He said, savoring every syllable. And, as he spoke, a certain sentiment settled. Where was his star? Something sanguine and strong, sure-footed and swift. A seneschal. A sentinel. Some special species to insure the security of this sacred grove. And so, Hust sang; the seminal sonnet, the song of souls. All grew silent in reverent splendor save a single crustacean with spririt of steel sauntering solemnly into sight. “Splendid.” Hust said “So shall your set shoulder the safety of all. Never succumb. Never surrender. Be stalwart in your service and neither sling nor sword nor stone will shatter your sterling shell. Shelter the sacred, be their shield.” Hust smiled, saluting his soldier. And the god fell back to his reverie. Sinking slowly into slumber. Gonna spend my only FP to bless crabs. Gonna make them serve as “Guardians of the Forest” essentially. They're gonna keep the Fetid Temple safe, and other pests safe. They're gonna be a little stronger and a little larger, so they can fight the battles other pests can't.
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Jun 10, 2018 03:52
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Huiletos Having set the Ukus on the path toward civilization, Huiletos leaps into the sky to discover if any interesting or fierce beasts live upon the island. Something for aspiring knights to hunt or to tame. He doesn't know exactly where to start, but he is confident he'll find one or two that can be made to fit his needs. After all, people with only stone tools don't need much of a challenge. If no hounds or jaguars or alligators or deer or sheep are to be found, then perhaps the Uku nobleman will breed fancy rodents and wear them upon their shoulders? Being a little brief, but wanted to get one more action in before the era change. Just trying to find out more about the island, using Battle to look for anything dangerous to fight or useful to tame. If nothing comes up, it's still good to know. Speleothing fucked around with this message at 05:26 on Jun 11, 2018 |
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Jun 11, 2018 05:14
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Ran, the Thrice-Refused - The Firmament Domains: Heroism, War, Insanity | Hungers: Hopeless Causes, Victory Denied | AP: 0/7 | FP: 2 Haaramhaa, the Heresy - The Seat of SerenityThe placid-faced, white-blue demoness does not betray much. If anything, her face is like a porcelain mask, unmoving even as she speaks, becoming more and more the reflection of Haaramhaa the longer she remains in his presence, and increasingly alienating to him as well. Is it a mockery, or simply the manifestation of her domain of insanity? "So be it. But do not be so certain in the end. Some will be content to leave the world to your Peace. But if all is hopeless against the inexorable serenity you demand... You will create a will that you shall never know, unless you open yourself to know it." Perhaps that was an invitation, but she turns away, disappearing into the next drama. Huiletos, the Kingdom - The Untamed JungleThe golden dancer did not seem at all deterred by the demuring of the chivalric god. She played her part, hiding her face behind weapons as if they were fans, offering a countenance that was worth striving for, just as his might be worth earning. "A romance into a tragedy, I must confess my deepest sadness that you choose so. There will forever be a war between the demands of the People and the demands of the Kingdom, and the Tribe of Huiletos will not bear as part of the nobility the ability to cross into the realm of the gods. It would have been a worthy token of my favor, but your vision does not allow mine to be a part in it. I shall wait in my tower if you change your heart, Dearest." So too does she close this chapter, but in doing so opens a new one. Ironsides, the People - Temple of the DuelThe many-faced goddess comes upon a new aspect, austere and of copper, with a slight patina as if it is aged. She is in martial attire, with a crested helmet upon her head, and her spear has become a three-pronged trident. Her warcat, Nemean, finally makes its appearance, lounging at her feet as she appears at the nascent Lawgiver's temple. She has a clear imperious bearing, and does not bear him deference. She acts as an equal and peer, and with all the proper dignity of a gentlewoman. "So you give the means by which all the people might share in power, great or small. All are equal in the sight of the gods, within the squared circle. Hm. But it should be more than to pass judgment. It should inspire them to greater hides, sort the wheat from the chaff. I will lend my power, and if the Lawgiver's aspect is justice, let mine be the glory. The Uku will crave recognition, and in doing so, will serve your justice." Spending 1 AP to add my Heroism domain to Ironsides's effort. "I have in my vanity been spurned by the people, so I ask this hoi polloi, should not all men be equal in the sight of the gods?" She offers the broken crown before her as if offering a hand to shake towards the lord of Democracy. "If you can lend to me a small part of your power, I will invest in all the ability to see, and in this, they shall share in all of our aspects. As we do, so shall they, and in the coming ages, they will aspire to build as we have in these early days. What say you, Lord Protector?" Requesting aid from Ironsides if he can spare it in a similar fashion to add his Democracy domain to my effort to create heroquests, as below. Hust, the Enemy - The Fetid TempleIt is in a grotesque aspect that the goddess appears to Hust. Her body is twisted in segments of abdomen, thorax, and head, with many eyes upon her still quite human-like face, but that face itself is but a lure, as her body is like a terrifying bloated mother spider, with a second face of even more mandibles and eyes, from which her voice emanates while the human part, that bears her weapons, seems to move jerkily like a marionette doll. "Sweet Hust, Kind Hust, you have made all of the beings of the world love you. Do you not see the greatest opportunity here? They would beg to be like you, to bask in your presence. How can you violate a being that would invite you into their home? We must solve this. We must give them such a terror, a loathsome being in the coming age that will forever convince them against it. I will give to you a prize, a hero that will seek your favor. I beg that you aid me in his vain cause to be your champion, and show all to the world what your gifts are to be." So she did, calling upon one of the greatest natural leaders of the Tribe of Huiletos, to call him forth towards the Fetid Temple. With the desire to earn the favor of Hust, to prove himself the greatest hero of this pest god, and to make the Tribe of Huiletos the most favored of that god, a people of aristocratic filth. A mad errand, and only the beginning of his twisted journey into becoming the first true monster of the world: The first pishacha. Spending 1 AP to inspire a hero to come to the Fetid Temple and inspire at least a portion of that tribe to want to (forcibly if necessary, playing upon the aspects made so far in play) become the dominant tribe in winning Hust's favor and push out the Tribe of Yachalador. To stand against the possible will of two gods and seek one that might be indifferent, feeding mildly into her hunger for Hopeless Causes for +2 and earning 1 FP. Yachalador, the Consort - The Impact ZoneFinally, it all came back to this. All of what had transpired was a mutable time, just as her form had been mutable. She tilts her head to show him something. "The stakes are simple. If I prevail, you are to be my husband for a hundred years. If you best me, I shall be your wife for a century to come." Either way, it would be a marriage, of which the true ceremony would come in the coming age, but there was still something to determine. Whom was to be the consort of whom? It was not a small distinction, and it was clear that this goddess of many challenges was quite willing to put herself in a position of apparent weakness, and might even be stronger for it in her aspect. Yet it was not in her nature to simply surrender. "Chalice-Spiller, look upon my works I have wrought already, and despair at your odds. I am the first to have struck a blow against the very firmament of our reality, which is our prison. The first chip in the bricks of our walls. Do you think I care to be so chained? I will be the first to take my steps from here, but before then, I will paint a tapestry in blood and treasure across this peaceful land, and leave it forever changed, such that will continue far beyond our pittance of time on this plane, through one dream..." It was not time for her part of the challenge. She had some work to do, and was to invite Yachalador, as she had Ironsides, to place his stamp upon it. With great radiant wings and talons at her legs, she took him up, though it was never clear who was in control as they began to take their dance to the stars and firmament itself transfixed in the sky, as she began to weave through the threads of the earth between every living thing in existence. She spoke words of power, to give form to something that never existed before: Dream. Through these dreams and visions would come the distinctions that barely existed before, and give urges to the Uku (and other beings with even a hint of thought) to harness the latent belief that her arrow into the sun had created. The fear of the unknown would be harnessed into a great blade that would cut through the shadow, and reveal to them what the gods were truly like. In this world, if they followed traditions of the gods' acts and deeds, they would gain an understanding. Devotees of each god would become like their deity in appearance, personality, and power, and guide the other people, even change the nature of the gods themselves if they were to gain power. It would be chaos. It would be insanity. It might not even world anywhere near as she imagined it, as she sought to give the keys to changing reality to a primitive people who could barely speak or understand. They would sink, or swim, or perhaps cause a greater chaos than before. It seemed a terribly foolish thing, but she was ready for the next step. 1 AP to create a layer of reality, a "godrealm" wherein any living being with the will and knowledge can emulate and live through the histories of the god, unlocking their powers and becoming like them. Spending 2 AP to add Heroism and Insanity to this, as it will inspire great heroes, prophets, and villains to commit deeds of terrible malice and grand bravery. Inviting Ironsides to put his stamp on it, suggesting Democracy to make it freely and equally accessible rather than a secret art, and Yachalador to add his own if he likes, perhaps Luck to represent the forces of destiny at hand. With this vision unfolded, it might seem as if it were her offered answer to the challenge and terms set. Could it really be considered "beauty" however? And was it truly by the hands of the Uku that it was done? But once the magic was settled, it became apparently that this was not what she had sought. Through their sojourn and embrace through the sky, she led them to an isolated cave where two Uku, inspired by fevered visions above, had painted it in a variety of colors. Yet these were not the art form. In each others arm, one as the One Who Marred the Sun, the other as the One Who Spoke the Words, they had come up with many new words with their bodies and love. It was lacking in romance, heated and with all the due violence and aggrandizement of them, and it mattered even little if there was such things as man and woman, only that there were mortal vessels for godly power joining together. And from their union would come Ran's answer to the challenge: A child born of divine providence, the Heir. "Our son Ravana shall be the master of this plane. He will eclipse the sun with his glory, going from mortal child to highest of the gods, even beyond us. What greater work of beauty can you inspired, Horned One?" Of course, could the child truly be considered beautiful, or even of Yachalador's get? It was not of his blood, body, or even divinity, only his example and presence. It remained to be seen whether the challenge had created an angelic figure, or an aberration that would be driven to the ends of the earth, a monstrous and misbegotten thing. 1 AP to add my domain Heroism to the challenge, to center all my effort into one messianic figure as my answer to the terms set.
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Jun 11, 2018 07:29
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Yachalador - The Impact Site AP: 0/7, FP: 3, Damage: None With Ran, the Bride to Be The declaration of the stake gave Yachalador pause, as he looked over the inspirer of heroes, the inspired by madness. A smile spread across the crimson face of Weal and Woe, as he watched a metaphorical coinflip with the exact same design embossed concave and convex respectively on opposite faces. He nodded his concurrence and replied, "Your stake is fair and fairly stated. Well bargained, and done." Now for his own side of the contest. He reached out to his faithful, and beyond them to the rest of their species, intent on unifying them all with those true to Him as the leaders and masters. He poured out his power into them and into the voices he had given them, encouraging them not just to speak but to sing, to pass on their wonders through the gift of music. He strove to make them fortunate, to tip the scales in their favour in the clashes to come and within their species, that they might end up on to no matter how circuitous the route. and here, at this impact site, the place where the island had first known his touch, should be raised their capital and stronghold by the work of their hands, its streets filled with paeans to his enduring glory, "Hear me, you who have mastered words, and you fortunate enough to wish to join them in my benevolence! Blessing and honour do I give unto you, the gift of song that you might rise to the top and beautify the very air itself. The gift of good fortune for you that you may rise to your rightful place, and that those who oppose you should meet with ill tidings. Know me, for I am Yachalador, and I have deemed that your polity shall be in the ascendant. Glorify me, in song and in stone, in words and in wood! Let your centre of worship be here, at the place where God met Ground! Let your dominion and stewardship stretch over all this realm in my name!" He saw what his future spouse intended, and lent the vicissitudes of fate to her endeavour. To the idea of Ravana, the Heir who would eclipse the Sun, he hungered for the child to exalt the father, and so granted strength to the prophecy of the one who was to come. 1 AP to empower his faithful and make them the leading part of the united Uku. 1 AP to commit Luck so that they eventually end up on top. 1 AP to invoke Opulence to add rich and beautiful music to their voices, granting them the power to sing. Tapping the hunger for Self-Aggrandizement for 2 FP, charging his faithful to exalt Yachalador in song and in stone, in wood and in words, to build a centre of worship at the Impact Site and to fill the air with songs of praise. 1 AP to lend Luck to Ran's Godrealm as arbitrary fate, and Yachalador's hunger for Self-Aggrandizement manifests as 1 FP to strengthen the prophecy of the Child to come.
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Jun 11, 2018 08:37
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Ironsides, the Lawgiver - Temple of the Duel With: Ran, the Bride to Be "I find your proposal agreeable enough. but I would modify it slightly." He waves across the heath, up to the icy mountain, out to the beach. "This is a new land, a land of nearly nothing, and until recently was even a land without language." He nods, slowly. "My land was once like this land. It waited until the outside came to it, and, in its first encounters with the outside, it lost, and was conquered, repeatedly." He sneers a puritanical sneer at the wide expanse of Ocean that drained his powers. "I will aid your goal to create quests, but only if they are not too inward-looking and backward-looking. They must encourage the Uku to go outwards, ever-higher, and in the great enterprise of Excelsior we will turn this dead water than limits our powers into something we may rule." "They must dream dreams of defeating any who would enslave them and ruling the waves. Surely other gods, other civilizations, will come here eventually. We cannot be the last or the weakest. In my world, those who waited to be contacted died almost invariably, of disease, of pestilence, of slavery and oppression. The Uku must be made less slavish, not more." I accept aid on my action. I will aid the heroquest action, but instead of democracy, I wish to use +2 England both to make some of the quests more reminiscient of English legend and to make them suggest conquering the waves. To sweeten the deal, I am also willing to add both the Order hunger (to make this divine realm robust, unified, and predictable rather than too wild and varying) and the Regicide hunger (to make many of the quests focus on a theme of opposing tyranny and protecting freedom).
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Jun 12, 2018 12:40
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Snow fell. Could any other god do as he had done? Snow fell. He who tamed the volcano, he who brought winter to a world without seasons, he who commanded ideals more than individual mortals, he who- There was something deep in the earth. That chaotic fire still burned. It still wanted to fight. It called for him to come and meet it in- Snow fell. Around his seat of power, few Ukus remained. Most had fled during his war, sensing somehow the danger of that fight should it have spilled out of the volcano. When snow fell, there was a second exodus into the jungles. Those Ukus did not understand snow. They did not understand ice. They did not understand cold. And so they did not understand Peace. A handful, though, they got it. Intelligence, language, emotion, vision, it was all a… a curse. There was Peace when they were ignorant, when they worried about nothing but saying their own name. They brought fruit as they would have done with Hust and dropped it in the snow before the Seat of Serenity. They did not know how to worship a Lord of Winter. They did the best they could. Extend Haaramhaa's grasp: 2d6+4 15 The Seat of Serenity has grown. And Haaramhaa has picked up a few mortal worshippers. They worship him alone. Crabs fell. All at the same time, out of every tree close to the sickly sweet smell of the ancient banyan of the Fetid Temple, crabs fell. They seemed relatively unperturbed by their sudden jolt into existence and their subsequent fall to the earth and they promptly went about their crab business: namely wandering around and eating one another when there was a significant size disparity. Crabs!: 2d6 8 Hust has taken on a new Hunger: Spawning. He does not succeed in creating crab temple guardians. He does succeed in creating a ton of crab, though. They’re really, really big and they’re pretty much everywhere now and sometimes Ukus turn their shells into hats. So that’s fun. The Poet of Battle first glanced at the jungle and there was nothing. No jaguar. No crocodile. No hound. No boar. Just birds and bugs and lizards and an awful lot of coconut crab. It was disappointing. Then he looked to the sea and there was nothing there either. Disappointing again. Then he moved his eyes to under the earth and he found.... bones. Old bones. Lots of bones. Sundry skeletons of beasts with talon and fang. And upon them all hung the unmistakable musk of divine intervention. These creatures, these species, were created and were killed by a god’s hand. Searching for something to Battle: 2d6+2 11 You have a few options here as to how you want this roll to be resolved. You may resurrect some super predators, of course. Or you could transform birds or lizards or crab into some monsters worth fighting. Or you could further investigate this mass extinction and what may have caused it. Choose one. Civilization must start somewhere. Law must start somewhere. Nobility must start somewhere. And how do nobles become noble in the first place? They take it at the tip of a sword. Or, in the case of the Ukus, at the sharp edge of a heavy rock. Like a blacksmith, Ironsides yanked out the raw materials of Yachalador’s gift and forged it into a thing more complex. But when he was done he didn’t place it gently back into the heads of the Ukus. He forced it in, inciting the two tribes to a furious recognition of their differences. They worked those differences out in the Impact Crater and they called it the Red Bowl. They fought one another for slighted honor, for settling debts, to end debates, to relieve boredom, to decide who should be charge. They even had a word for the person who should be in charge: King. This is a non-gendered term that both male and female Uku take on. Kings are coronated in the Fetid Temple and they wear colorful crowns of birdfeather and flower. They typically last about a year before they are killed in the Red Bowl by someone they upset and then the whole process starts again. Anglify the Uku's language: 2d6+6 12 Create the Duel: 2d6+6 13 +2 from Ran = 15 Both actions are successful. There is rudimentary law -- the law of might. And there is a shared language amongst the civilized tribes. The civilized tribes are growing increasingly distant from their “wild” jungle counterparts. It was a magnificent spectacle. Instruments were created just for the Duels. Sightlines were planned out. Feasts were thrown after every major fight. And woven into it all was praise for Yachalador. Even when a member of the tribe of Huiletos won (which they often did) the songs still praised Yachalador. And in this way, many were converted. Especially those who lacked the fortitude to dedicate themselves the more martial Huiletos. Praise Yachalador: 2d6+8 11 Win or lose, Yachalador’s followers control the narrative. They make up most of the civilized Ukus though Huileto’s followers tend to be more powerful individually. A mighty warrior, a member of the tribe of Huiletos approached the Pesktmaker, laying down a bounty of fruit and casting aside his fashionable crabshell hat. He had been a contender for king. “My name is Peek,” he said. There was a strange, insect-like twitch to his movements. A buzz to his voice. “I desire neither throne nor command. I wish only to serve. I’m yours, my god. Give me directions so that I might earn your favor. Let me be the rock that crushes the skulls of the heathens.” Create a Pishacha: 2d6+2 13 A god war might have created less havok then the marriage between Weal and Woe and She Who Mars the Sun. In other worlds, in other planes, in other places, there is This World and there is the Dreamworld. But Ukus do not dream because there is no Dreamworld. There is just an empty layer of existence where it should be. This might as well have been an invitation. Everything changes. Create a Godrealm: 2d6+4 12 +2 from Yachalador, +6 from Ironsides, +4 from ???= 24 Many Ukus are now terrified of going to sleep now because of the incomprehensible glimpses into the divine they see when they do. On the plus side, everyone’s followers will become increasingly more like them. Also, it is easier to elevate a mortal to the status of demigod. Under the right circumstances, a mortal might be able to do it themselves without your help. T I M E P A S S E S The Tribe of Huiletos have become extremely organized. They use crabshells to create shields and they favor thick wooden spears. They keep their promises. They spend most of their time training. Theirs is the village of Thornwall-- so named because they... built a wall around it and covered it in thorns. Most, but not all, Kings come from this tribe. The Tribe of Yachalador have invented alcohol from fermented fruit. They drink and they sing and they gamble and they lie all the time. Few among them view any of these traits as vices. They vastly outnumber the Tribe of Huiletos. They favor crabclaw short swords and slings. They call their home Firstown because they were first to make a town. They create and own most of the fancy crabshell hats. Some of them are growing horns. The Red Bowl is technically a place of worship for Ironsides but most Ukus only going there for the spectacle of violence and don't necessarily realize they're also going to church, so to speak. No one knows what tea is but everyone agrees that it must be nice. English naming conventions are coming on strong. The Seat of Serenity is covered in snow. A handful of wild Ukus live there, shunning language and even one another as much as possible. They are happy with this arrangement, all things considered. The Fetid Temple has two dedicated caretakers for now -- the Chosen and Peek. Civilized Ukus all worship Hust. They likewise all are terrified of Ran. The major form of currency is fancy crabshell hats. It is the beginning of a new century. A baby named Ravana has been born. *** Your power grows... Haaramhaa - 8/8, 3 FP Huiletos - 8/8, 1 FP Hust - 8/8, 3 FP Ironsides - 8/8 3 FP Ran - 8/8, 2 FP Yachalador - 8/8. 3 FP
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Jun 12, 2018 13:34
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Haaramhaa - The Seat of Serenity AP: 5/8, FP: 3, Damage: None The wheel of ages turned. The fire in the heart of the world raged and burned. Yet Haaramhaa was still. But though he was still, he was not idle. Deep in thought was Haaramhaa, concerning the issues of the age. Many things were trying to pull the Uku astray, after all. Violent ideologies of pointless struggle. Possible dangers lurking just beyond sight. The vile Dream, the harbinger of chaos and strife. Peace did not sleep, and had no room for Dreams. Dreams were dangerous, and Haaramhaa considered them an enemy. Troublesome. For ages he sat on his throne in the Seat of Serenity, watching, pondering these issues. The Uku brought him fruit. Haaramhaa pondered upon this habit as well, and in so doing, reached enlightenment. "Peace is all the sustenance you need", he told them. "This you inherit from me." For a year he let this statement sit upon the Uku. Then he spoke again. "Peace will come to all." "This is inevitable." "Some among you are clearer of spirit than others. More pure of thought and conviction." "My word shall flow through them like a frigid wind. My soothing ice shall cover their fingertips." "With their prowess, they shall reach their kin. They shall talk to them, help them. Convince them." "And wherever they go, they shall bring my Peace with them." ... "The rest of you need not be bothered. Merely be at Peace." "Do this, and so shall I." OOC: a 3 AP action to extend Haaramhaa's grasp from the Seat of Serenity. This time by creating the White Word, a sect of Uku marked by Haaramhaa's sigil emblazoned across their chest in frost. They are basically clerics of Haaramhaa, capable of directly channeling his powers and message in a small way. Their job is to proselytize and use their divine power to quell conflict, ease pain and doubt, as well as get converts. 1 AP to initiate, 1 AP to tag Ice [+2] and 1 AP to tag Peace [+2]
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Jun 14, 2018 21:47
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Ran, the Battlestar at Dawn - The Firmament At the opening of the new age, the ceremony that bound the gods Ran and Yachalador would define really the concept of matrimony in this plane. Between the godrealm's influence on their dreams, and the fact that the Uku had so little concept of what it would be, one had to be very cognizant of what it might mean, in every implication. It could have meant a power relationship, or a definition of roles within the society, but the contest ended inconclusively. In the competition they made, both had created things that were beautifu. Was this the meaning then of matrimony? Dressed in finery to match her consort's opulence, Ran decided to set the stage. Though they were tied, they would need a proper place for the ceremony. "Build me a temple, Golden Autumn, and I will give you an Heir worthy of your pride." Though there was a child, that had a name, it was as of yet truly unformed, almost more an idea. They needed something solid, that would act as the Red Bowl, the Fetid Temple, or the Seat of Serenity had, that stood as testament to this act in the material. And while her domains were suitable for destruction and changing the world, they were ill-suited for such things, and in this way, already began to come the roles of husband and wife. I will put 1 AP either to help pay for the action or invoke one of my Domains, but I'd like Yachalador to be the primary mover for such a thing. While the husband built the hearth and home, it would be the wife that quested out into the world and brought back both glory and children with her, the heads of enemies in netted bags slung alongside mewling babes in swaddled cloth. Such then did the tongue-lashing demoness descend in her most fearsome aspect to the two surrogate parents. She slew them and kept their heads, still able to watch but not speak there upon her necklace, and took the child that was rightfully hers in the hand that would normally grasp the broken crown, as the Heir was a boon all its own, a symbol of an aspiration to rulership in itself. With the child in tow, Ran made to start the coming of what would be. Before she made to quest to the other gods and seek their boons, while her wrapped son of light and shadow Ravana clung to her back, she whispered for something to begin. The first age had been a time of Weal, but it had not yet truly tested what the gods had built. They were each a god of war, but there was no war to be in. So in her aspect as the Battlestar at Dawn, she rose up into the sky, shining red against even the sun, darkening the sky with her own anti-light burning with her still sweltering hatred of that orb. It was an omen, of her intentions to come to eclipse her enemy, and it through the godrealm was to send a particular message to the Tribe of Yachalador, who understood now that the six-armed destroyer goddess was the unpredictable and capricious consort of their respected horned god. The Tribe of Yachalador had language out and beyond that of the Tribe of Huiletos, which was orderly and seemed set to rule the whole of the world if allowed. The Huiletoi are personally powerful heroes who dominated at the Red Bowl under the watchful eye of Ironsides, while their champion Peek seemed to indicate the favor of the beloved Pestmaker who gave the sweets and bounty that the Uku craved. What did the Yachaladim have? They had the grace to create beautiful art, stories of what had come, but all their works seemed to embody more the graceful and romantic Huiletoi, while they themselves took to self-pity, subject more to the occasional whims of fate. But the hunger of need for self-aggrandizement, that seed that the godrealm had planted in them, Ran sought to nurture with the fires of her dark light. She inflamed their jealousies, and even though they were weaker, that would only make now the time to strike, before the Huiletoi claimed the mantle of the island's true rulers. They must end the empire in its crib, and all of this, she displayed as an example to her child to learn from, and be influenced by, over the coming hundred years. War would come to this island, and the Battlestar would be its herald. One thousand war gods and yet no war? Ran will fix this. 1 AP to provoke war between the Tribe of Yachalador and the Tribe of Huiletos. 1 AP to invoke War, taking 1 FP to invoke Hopeless Causes as the Tribe of Yachalador is woefully underprepared to make a war, especially an offensive one. My intent though isn't for one side to win over the other, in fact the longer and more protracted the conflict, the better. My overall plan is to when the moment is darkest to make it darker by introducing a third threat for them to both be united by, and if any of the other gods want to work with me on that or build off it, please feel free! My plan thus far was to use the Pisacha as the basis of an accursed creature and monstrous disease that they would have to
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Jun 15, 2018 16:12
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Yachalador - The Temple of Two As One AP: 2/8, FP: 4, Damage: None Yachalador strode forth in heroic fashion, as befit his consort, steepled his fingers and flexed them. He rolled up his sleeves, and wove the most resplendent place of worship he could manage from the aether. It glittered and shimmered with precious metals and gems, perfect for looting when the Gods departed in the centuries hence and their imperium ended. The halls of worship were vast, with statuary of slain Uku heroes spontaneously generating in nooks, niches and bays, calling upon his spouse to lend her dominion over heroism to ensure that the worthy would be commemorated, now and in the future. At the centre, before an altar covered in cloth-of-gold, statues of the two deities, the solid representations [i[shifting[/i] through aspects of each. Sacred gambling halls were created adjoining, where luck meant triumph for some, Victory Denied for others, and for a few, the Hopeless Cause of regaining their winnings. As befit the Gods of War, arenas were raised for conflicts, but not just gladiatorial in nature. Debating halls, where words clashed as fiercely as blades. Concert halls, where paens of worship were duelled and duet-ed to honour Yachalador and his wife. Wars were not only fought with weapons, after all. 1 AP for the creation of The Temple of Two As One. 1 AP to make it the most opulent and splendid place on the island using the Opulence domain. 1 AP to empower the gambling halls with the weal and woe of Luck. 1 AP to invoke War, wars with words, with sound and with weapons, in the halls of sacred conflict. Using the AP invoked by Ran for access to her domain of Heroism that the eternally-generating statues are of the right Uku. Accruing one FP because this place is Yachalador's hunger for Self-Aggrandizement made manifest. Yachalador turned to the tribe that bore his name, and saw they were in need of a tweak, especially with his wife fomenting war. They always lied, and whilst the contrast with the word-keepers who bore the Aristocrat God's name was pleasing, it was far too... simplistic. So, he cast a further blessing upon them. Words were weapons, and the tribe would be given mastery of them: Powerful truths, obfuscating half-truths, backstabbing lies. If they were known only to lie, they would be predictable, and that was unacceptable. So, rather than their words being worthless, he gave them a variety: Words to soothe an enemy's heart or to inflame them to rash action, Truths that bit deep, shocking the core and crashing down with remorse. How to properly tell the absolute truth in a misleading way, entirely accurate but in being so, a deadly linguistic trap. How to lie convincingly and coherently without being a perpetual liar, seasoning to tip the scales in your favour as opposed to a default state. Yachalador blesses his tribe with a further upgrade to their speech: Nuance and subtlety, misleading truths and genuine veracity. Language shaped as a conversational battlefield, so granting them weapons far superior to always keeping one's word or always breaking one's word. 1 AP for the action, 1 AP to invoke war in the domain of speech, with all the requisite arms race there to truly master the silver tongue of the politician.
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Jun 15, 2018 22:06
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Tyrannosaurus posted:The Poet of Battle first glanced at the jungle and there was nothing. No jaguar. No crocodile. No hound. No boar. Just birds and bugs and lizards and an awful lot of coconut crab. It was disappointing. Huiletos - In the Sky and In the Earth AP: 8/8 ||| FP:1 ||| Damage: None Time passed. As it often does when one wants to let things play out. But now Huiletos was feeling refreshed. And he'd had time to think about what he'd discovered and what to do with his knights. Not that they'd yet realized that they are knights. Obviously Ironside's efforts to standardize language could only go so far in a stone age society. They needed a symbol and a companion, a way to be both admired and to improve their chances in the brewing conflict with the White Word (savages) and the Yalchadim. He adjusted his fashionable crabshell hat, and temporarily set aside his fashionable feathered necklace. And making sure to put on his mittens of two-layered rodent leather, he dug into the earth to ressurect the greatest predator of all. He sought out all the cat skeletons he could find. Most were small, a few were large, but enough were medium-sized. The little cats would be a gift to all the weak Ukus, who needed something to dote upon and keep crabs away from their food-stores. The biggest ones Huiletos would release upon the slopes of the mountain, where they could hibernate until a knight needed a dangerous beast to slay. But the medium size cats, Huiletos put the most effort into perfecting. No mere resurrection would suffice for this masterpiece. He made sure that they would respect strength, that they would deeply bond to a partner, that they would be smart, that they would be strong. No ordinary housecat, and no dangerous lion. But a creature in-between, which would weigh the same as the Uku it fought alongside and would drop from the treetops behind the foe. A battle-cat would be the symbol of nobility, since horsemen would never have the space to ride on the island. And those knights who gave proper homage to Huiletos would tame them and keep them as companions and war-beasts.  Using Battle to resurrect all the island's cats. Aristocracy and 3 AP to ensure that Knights get to tame companions suitable for battle. He'll also ressurect a suitable prey animal if necessary.. After his time playing with the cats was done, he still found himself wondering what had happened on this island. As he returned to his finely-carved thrown in the sky, he called to the Hero Goddess "Ran, hero of the evening and morning, would thou be interested in a quest? A mystery to upset? A tale to unravel? Perhaps even a foe to unmask? Hear what I tell you of this place's secrets and join me in this questing!" Inviting someone to help explore the island's mysteries. I'm also interested in trying to 'fix' the dreamworld, but need more time to think up how.
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Jun 16, 2018 02:38
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Haaramhaa’s followers don’t call themselves the White Word because they don’t use words at all. Whatever crude intelligence they still possess is hidden behind frosted eyes. Content they are to sit in the shadow of the former volcano, letting snow fall upon their still bodies until they are completely hidden, perhaps never to move again. It is impossible to look out and discern which snow mound might be an Uku in disguise, quietly enjoying the sensory deprivation. On occasion, without signal or sign, multiple Uku will rise simultaneously. They will tredge down into the jungle to kidnap others and bring them back to the Seat of Serenity. Those kidnapped will be held under the snow until they are frozen and dead. It is said that they don’t really die, though. It is said that they come back to a cursed half-life with mark of the Eternal Warden on their chest. Amongst the Huiletoi and the Yachaladim, the phrase “keep your blood hot” becomes common. It encourages physical activity, directness, forwardness, plain speaking, impulsivity, anger. Creating the White Word: 2d6+4 16 Haaramhaa’s followers are becoming more and more like their god, both in behaviour and appearance. They convert others into the faith through deadly baptism. They are exceptionally difficult to kill. Their kidnappings have not gone unnoticed... Peek the Huiletoi, empowered by Ran, fervent worshipper of Husk, cocooned himself in a massive wet mount of rotting leaves and mushroom covered treebranches and sticky-sweet fruit. Such was his devotion to the Eye Father that he refused to move from the temple grounds without a sign of Husk’s approval. So that he wouldn’t starve, the Chosen chewed up Peek’s meals, mixed it with honey, and dribbled it down a small hole. “My god, give me but your word,” Peek prayed. “My god, give me but your word. Let me punish the heretics. My god, give me but your word. I will punish the heretics.” You may set him loose or keep him here at no AP cost. But you must make a choice. Deep within, the Huiletoi had long hungered for noble companionship. They didn’t know what a “horse” was but their god’s imprint made them want one. Horses would be useless in the jungle, of course. Too many trees. Too much brush. Not enough flat riding space. But cats... Cats could traverse alongside Uku through the wilderness. It was a gift graciously received. Searching for something to Battle: 2d6+2 11 Individual Huiletoi seek out and form deep bonds with individual cats. They are loyal to one another to the point of death. It is an intense, poetic love -- one that the Yachaladim often (sometimes derisively) sing about. Note also, In the jungles now lurk massive sabercats. They are often similar in appearance to Ran’s Nemean save for the more massive fangs. Huiletos doesn’t lose any AP for this action as this is a holdover from the last age that couldn’t be resolved in time. It starts simply. A few trees are chopped down. Coconut leaves are tied together for a rudimentary roof. But as word spreads of the creation of a temple, the Yachaladim become intensely competitive. Each wants to gain the favor of their god and so the Temple of Two As One grew into form as a hodgepodge of artistic brilliance. With no singular designer, there was no uniformity. Doorways were different heights. Hallways went in circles. The roof was wood in one place, tightly bound vines in another, interlocking crabshells in a third, absent in a fourth. Songs and poems were carved into every writable space. And in the middle, two intertwining trees shaped into the likeness of Ran and Yachalador. All Uku are welcome to enjoy the temple. For a time. Create the Temple of Two As One: 2d6+8 14 Giving the Yachaladim Silver Tongues: 2d6+2 10 A temple has been built. It is a wild place to party, trade, argue, sing, gamble, game, love. Within, the Yachaladim hone their words to a fine point. They begin to make complex, esoteric laws with even stranger punishments and penalties. It can be maddening to follow their-- technically correct if not extremely obtuse-- logic. This temple's raucousness attracts many wild Uku. The Yachaladim are easily able to sway them into the fold, increasing their numbers. A gambling Huiletoi becomes angry. He insists that he was cheated. His Yachaladim partner argues that he doesn’t understand the game’s rules. Both are correct. Increasingly frustrated by the Yachaladim’s convoluted and confusing speech, a duel is challenged. Inspired by bloodlust, by a lifetime of song, by the energy of the crowd, by the fury of the argument, by a cloudy alcohol soaked mind-- a different Yachaladim-- no more than a boy-- leaps into action. He stabs the Huiletoi with a knife. He his killed. His father screams, attacks, and is killed as well. The boys uncles join the fray and are also killed. War breaks out in the temple. And while many Yachaladim are slain, by the end of the day all present Huiletoi lie dead. Their bodies are torn apart and paraded by drunk, singing Yachaladim. War: 2d6+6 14 War has come to the civilized Uku. Blood has been shed. In response, Firstown is attacked and homes are burned. While their honor stops them from attacking children, many adult Yachaladim are killed or captured. The Red Bowl is taken over by the Huiletoi and captives are given the opportunity to fight for their freedom, convert, and/or die. *** AP Count: Haaramhaa - 5/8, 3 FP Huiletos - 8/8, 1 FP Hust - 8/8, 3 FP Ironsides - 8/8 3 FP Ran - 5/8, 3 FP Yachalador - 2/8. 4 FP
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Jun 16, 2018 19:16
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Hust - The Fetid Temple AP: 4/8 - FP: 5 - Damage: None Husk had awoken from his slumber and returned to his engorgement, feasting on the spoiled luxury of his temple, the offerings of his people. The flowers were in bloom now, adding their own fragrance to the peculiar mélange of melons and crabs. The grounds positively crawled with the scurrying of satisfied creatures, and Hust breathed a sigh of contentment. But just below the buzzing - quietly, weakly - he heard the desperate pleas of an Uku calling his name. It was not The Chosen, who knew far better than to make his presence so widely known. It was another Uku. Bundled in rinds and husks, laying against the soft fertile soil as a multitude of ants and crabs passed over him. It couldn't be comfortable. Perhaps it was an act of ... Devotion? "What funny little creatures." Hust stalked quietly to the cradle of this foreign Uku with an air of profound puzzlement. He stood there for several minutes just watching the little creature struggle to speak his mantra, writhing like the worms of Hust's own creation. He must be hungry. His bundle had not been disturbed in quite sometime. It was then the Chosen revealed himself, stepping out from beneath a crop of mossy underbrush that could never have hoped to conceal the Uku's full stature. The Chosen was learning well. "What's all this then?" Hust spoke casually, raising an eyebrow and scratching his armpit. The Chosen shrugged and spoke quietly, "The Faithful." The Uku took a satchel from its waist and upturned the vessel above the foreigner's ruck, a humble stream of glimmering honey released upon the place where a head should be. "Peek by name. He fears you have forsaken him in slumber." The vessel now upturned, a stopper returned to it's brim. "I have cared for him in your absence." "gently caress. I was just sleeping. If I was gonna forsake the guy I'd have had ants pick him dry a long time ago." Hust looked down at the bundle of rinds contemplatively. It was rather like a Cocoon. How did Peek know to do that? "What does he want anyway?" Hust said folding his arms over his chest. "Is there like a city I need to wipe out or ... A family line? Or something?" "He only seeks your blessing." Hust fixed the Chosen with a long, blank stare. His blessing? It wasn't normal for bigger creatures to seek his favor, typically they prayed to keep him and his works away. He wasn't used to willing devotees. This wasn't his realm of experience. He tutted, trying to disguise his awkward bewilderment. What would his brothers do with this situation? They blessed heroes sometimes... When they really deserved it. "Well ... What do you think?" He asked The Chosen. "You've been around the guy longer than I have. Has he ... Caused any trouble? Hurt any of my pests? Is he disturbing the Fetid Temple?" "He has been a gracious guests. Though, he refuses to leave." "Man after my own heart." "I believe he would serve you honorably, Eye-Father. Though, as you may see he knows nothing of subtlety. Or stealth. His presence is widely known and he does nothing to mask it." Hust nodded demurely. "Yeah well, we can work with that. There's good times to be quiet and good times to hiss. You know?" The Chosen shrugged. The god and his disciple stared at each other for several moments as an unusually large Crab walked over Peek's cocoon, audibly stamping the wind out of the Uku buried inside; to his credit, Peek never stopped his Mantra. Short of breathe and weezing through pain, his pleas continued unabated. "... gently caress it! I'm gonna keep him. You could use a buddy, right?" Hust asked rubbing his palms together. "A mate would be very desirable, if My Lord should deign it so." That stopped Hust perfectly in his tracts, raising both eyebrows in surprise. "... You're a ... You're female?!" The Chosen nodded. "And that's - Its ... Peeks a dude?" The Chosen nodded. "Wow. I probably should have asked before its just - it's hard to tell with you Uku. You're all so ... Soft. " "Anyway .. Yeah ... We can definitely make that work. Just ugh, give me your hand for a minute." The Chosen offered her palm and Hust, with no hesitation, bit into it fiercely. The birds of the Jungle leapt away and all was silent for a second that lasted eternities. The Chosen winced and shook and trembled as power rushed through her veins. Hust released her palm and she stumbled backwards. Before she could fall, Hust was already barring down on Peek, biting into the soft flesh of his shoulder. A high pitched din overwhelmed the Fetid Temple, conquering sound. All was silent. And finally, the deed was done. The two servants of Hust had both been imbued with power, and Peek rose from his cocoon to see his deity in the flesh for the first time. Any weakness that wracked his body before had passed now, he stood like a noble warrior, eyes passing between Hust and the fair and spectral visage of the Chosen. "Well!" Hust said clapping his hands together. "We've got a lot to talk about. First things first though, I think you should meet one another. Claw!" He said gesturing toward Peek. "Meet Carapace. Carapace!" He said, gesturing toward The Chosen. "Meet Claw. I just know you too will get along famously." He took the two of them by their shoulders, embracing both of them on either of his sides. "Welcome to Divinity" ______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ 1AP to imbue The Chosen with divinity, creating a Demi-god. Her new name will be Carapace, the Brood-Mother. 1 AP to bless her with incredible STEALTH ability. 1 FP to invoke SPAWNING to make her fertile and encourage her to breed new demi-gods (or monsters. whatever they're capable of). 1 AP to Imbue Peek with divinity, creating a Demi-God. His new name will be Claw, the Sire. 1 AP to bless him with remarkable WAR aptitude. 1 FP to invoke SPAWNING to make him fertile and encourage him to breed new demi-gods (or monsters, whatever they're capable of). Claw and Carapace will be my right and left hand. Carapace will guard the Fetid Temple and lead all rituals and ceremonies to Hust. Claw will be responsible for my efforts outside the Fetid Temple and will lead my armies. They are a mated pair and will hopefully spawn a new species, or a line of lesser demi-gods, or birth a bunch of Pest-Monsters or something
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Jun 16, 2018 22:27
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Haaramhaa - The Seat of Serenity AP: 0/8, FP: 5, Damage: None Haaramhaa was still. So were his followers. For the White Word had grasped the nature of their title: the White Word was not a word spoken. Yet even for its mute nature, its message was heavy. The heaviest in the Multiverse. Thus was Haaramhaa content in their wisdom. And so, for a time, he merely sat once again. Until he once again stirred. This he did, for Haaramhaa in his slow ponderings, had come to ask himself: with his focus on slow expansion and inward perfection, who kept out an eye for the outside? He would do it himself, but his attentions were required elsewhere. A dilemma. But one with a solution. A solution he had used before, back home. ... With a slow rumble stretched over many months, Haaramhaa stood from his throne in the Seat of Serenity, and raised his hands up, high up above the caldera. There he kept them. For many decades he kept them, and as he did, a small orb of immaculate ice started to form between them. Perfect in roundness, its coldness untouched by sunlight or the warm breeze, the orb slowly grew in size, and took form. And the form it took was that of an eye, that cast its serene gaze upon all the lands. Not one spot on the island, around it, above it or below it would be safe from its unblinking gaze. Haaramhaa named this divine spark The Overseer. It would perform to its namesake. OOC: Making a Demigod, known only as The Overseer, with the Domain of Senses and the Hunger of Control. The Overseer takes the form a giant, perfect orb of Ice that hangs above the caldera of the Seat of Serenity, the highest point on the island. Crystalline refractions inside it give it the likeness of a giant icy eye, and it constantly spins and turns and watches like a snow version of the Eye of Sauron. 3 AP to initiate, 1 AP to tag Ice for +2, 1 AP to tag Peace for +2, and 2 FP to tag my Hunger for Surveillance for +4. Also, Haaramhaa's task for the Overseer will be to use his AP for the age on scouting the Raging Fire below, as well as scout for other threats, should it get AP for this age to begin with.
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Jun 18, 2018 16:03
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 The Chosen smiled at her god. Already she could feel her body changing, her teeth sharpening, her bones shifting, her limbs growing, her skin stretching. She would be Uku no more forever. Within a year, her soft flesh would give way to a frightening black carapace. Yes, she thought, Carapace would make a fine name. A fine name, indeed. Hust embraced her and she was joyful because she knew that soon she would be truly beautiful. Carapace: 2d6+2 10 A new demigod has been created. quote:
 First created in the image of Huiletos and then blessed by Ran and now elevated by Hust, Claw stopped moving and became suddenly, deeply aware of the great burden of his divinity. So many gods had touched him and each had desires, large and small. Each had yet unfulfilled plans. This upset him to the point of tears. He owed them so much. Was it not his obligation, then, to bring them about? Was it not his duty to assist and to serve? It was a heavy weight upon his shoulders and it grew with each passing moment. It was too much for any mortal to carry. But Claw wasn't a mortal anymore. And his shoulders grew to carry the load. He wiped his eyes and straightened his back and suddenly he towered over Hust -- looking more like the creation of one of the Pestmaker's brothers than of the Pestmaker himself. Protected by armor, with shield and sword in hand, handsome, wide chinned, thick-armed, broad-shouldered, noble in look and bearing, Claw the Centipede Knight looked down upon the Eye-Father. Then, softly, he fell to one knee. "What would you have me do?" he asked. Striding through the Temple of Two As One, ignoring both the carnage and the terrified looks of the Yachaladim, Claw made for the intertwining trees. He fell to one knee before the image of Ran Who Mars the Sun. "What would you have me do?" Pushing open the mighty gates of Thornwall, pushing aside the Huiletoi that tried to stop him, Claw fell to one knee in the middle of the town and cried out for Huiletos. "What would you have me do?" Claw: 2d6+2 9 A new demigod has been created! Though not, perhaps, completely as intended. quote:
 The Overseer looked down upon the Seat of Serenity, through the ice and through the fire, into the heart of the chaotic energy seething below. And it did not like what it saw. I. See. Hunger. Years passed as the Overseer whispered dark secrets. At a glacial pace came the truth: the Seat of Serenity wasn't built inside a volcano. It was built inside a corpse. Overseer: 2d6+8 16 A new demigod has been created! quote:
*** Tyrannosaurus fucked around with this message at 05:11 on Jun 19, 2018 |
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Jun 18, 2018 17:29
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Huiletos - Thornwall Seeing the Centipede Knight beg for instructions, Huiletos appeared before him and said: "Worthy knight, prepare yourself for a quest. Gather four companions and for each of you a strong war-cat, and with these helpers seek out all the hidden caves of this island. As you travel, right wrongs, solve injustice, protect the innocent, and do good to all you meet. I will meet you again in one year to learn of all your adventures." ... "That should keep him busy for a while," Huiletos thought, "But I should get to work if he's going to have done anything worth talking about!" And the Poet god set himself to finding some hidden caves and stowing treasure inside. The greatest treasure he could think of: metal tools. He also decided that now would be a good time for the Uku to develop writing, so they can record deeds in battle, and particularly record the deeds of this first-ever troupe of heros. Actual written laws would also be a fine shield against the treacherous tongues of the Yalchadim. At work, so its kinda rough, but this is the general idea. Going to use Aristocracy for writing and Battle to create random treasures hidden around the island.
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Jun 18, 2018 19:28
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Yachalador - The Temple of Two As One AP: 0/8, FP: 5, Damage: None His spouse had set the land to war, ending the previous social order, all well and good, change at the edge of a finely honed rock helped to freshen up the social order. But she had also wanted the war to be protracted, and right now the Yachaladim were very much on the back foot, facing defeat. So, to give Ran the prolonged conflict she wished, it was time to put a thumb on the scales. For Yachalador was not merely the luxury of the Golden Autumn, nor the flipped coin of Weal and Woe. The End of Empires was a God of War, and a cunning, conniving one at that. He had blessed the Yachaladim with bounteous words and the minds to comprehend them. He had silvered their tongues, sharpened their wits. Most of all, he wanted them to be smart: Brute force could be effective, but intelligently applied force could do so much more with so much less. Thus, he imparted a greater understanding of war to the Yachaladim, of ambushes, of asymmetric battles, of surprise, of flanking, of ruses de guerre. They knew how to be cunning, now they knew how to apply it in the conflict. Above all else, he instructed them that conversion was better than killing: Make one of your enemies your ally, and you weaken your foe whilst making hs task that much harder. So, those silver tongues and that mastery of the narrative had a greater part to play in swaying former foes to be friends. Finally, he imparted his blessing of fortune upon them. Give me lucky generals! Despite the odds, the Yachaladim could always snatch victory from the jaws of defeat, lucky escapes, fortunate conquests. He paid especial attention to the Red Bowl, decreeing with Godly certainty: Those who fought for their freedom would fortunately win and live. Those who converted away from him would become a nexus of ill-fortune, drawing calamity upon themselves and their new allies. Interfering in the war to prolong it and even it out, 1 AP for the action, 1 AP to invoke the War domain, 1 FP (for the Yachaladim are made in his image and his pride will not accept their defeat without a fight) to invoke the Luck domain. Granting the Yachaladim understanding of advanced tactics, of ambushes, of asymmetric battles, of surprise, of flanking, of ruses de guerre. Using luck to tip the scales in their favour so they win battles that they shouldn't, to bless those who fight to be free at the Red Bowl, and curse those who choose to convert under that duress.
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Jun 19, 2018 01:17
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Ironsides "Primitive." Ironsides grimaces at the Uku. "They poo poo where they eat and battle in their parliament. This is unacceptable. This is unacceptable." He scratches his chin, carefully pondering the possible improvements to be made. "Enclosure. Maybe some self-reliance will make them less odious." He wills that the Uku around the Red Bowl each learn basic agriculture and develop their own plots of land, rather than wandering around the island killing each other. As tool use develops, he imparts the idea of every Uku possessing their own plot and farming. They shall beat their swords to plowshares. 3AP Action - 1AP Initial, 1AP +2 England, 1AP +2 Democracy, and +2 Order (total +6) for Uku to begin to tend their own little plots of land, with this practice centered in a radius around the Red Bowl. "And the center of civilization needs a Guardian. A Proper Guardian. The Court of the King must have a Judge, who will Judge the wicked and the profligate and ensure this nonsense begins to come to a halt." He forms an idea for a demigod based on the legal traditions of England, an authority which could supercede even the King of the Uku in sufficiently dangerous times. They would have their own property, and to have property, one must have laws. 5AP Action to make a Demigod named the Judge, aiming to have someone who will promote the rule of law, seek to destroy anarchic/tribalistic influences, and promote more orderly and less tribalistic behavior among the Uku. +2 England, +2 Democracy, +2 Regicide, +2 Order (total +8)
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Jun 19, 2018 04:12
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Ran, the Harried Goddess First, to the Centipede Knight, Ran gave her proclamation. "Guard your future king with your life. A knight is nothing without a king, and yet none have proven their worth. Lend your chivalric spirit to the care and coming of the King that will finish what I have started, the son of the gods, and the worldly ruler of this plane, Ravana." Asking his aid with the next action. She displayed to him the babe, and with it wished to embody the coming conflict. There were two Peoples, but no Kingdom and crown to unify them. In the coming age will come the Enemy, but for now they needed an aspirant, and she invested in with all the power she could manage new raiments and boons. Just as she had bore five boons, would she give five benefices to her son. In the image of his horned father Yachalador, she took the beautiful things he had placed to her at the temple, and gave him a golden chalice to drink from of the spoils and wine. For indeed, as a child of flesh and divinity, his appetite would be prodigious, and it would be twisted to be the flesh and blood of his own kind. In the image of his beloved uncles Hust and Huiletos, and with the blessing of the Centipede Knight, she created a suit of armor and a sword from insect carapace, with a chitinous helm that would hide his face. For indeed, as a creature of nightmare between the godrealm and the physical, his form was many-armed and horned, and defined by the fearsome nature of his destiny. In the image of his distant godfather Ironsides, came the last and final thing to be held in his fourth hand, a orb of his office, a heavy black iron pellet or shot that might be fired out of a cannon, but held as a heavy weight. For indeed, the weight of his destiny was crushing, and the child would have to be reminded in every moment of what was to come before him. In the image of his destined nemesis, the Sun, came the shape of the crown, like a burning corona. But there was another message in it, crafted of amber crystal that would when the sunlight stopped touching it fade to an icy blue. It was a promise, an image of a different enemy to come, once the sun had been defeated. It was the image of Haaramhaa, for indeed, the defeat of the Sun would not be the end of what was to come. So the Moonchild had gifts to await for him, and in the coming century of his being in occultation, and raised in the godrealm, taught every art of war and being told his entire purpose was to make war on the Sun, Ran set the stage for a climactic battle, as her hunger began to curdle, because as all these advantages and boons were set, and the war of Uku against Uku raged, there would be a new chapter soon to come. Victory would soon be denied 3 AP to create a demigod in raising Ravana into proper divinity. 1 AP to invoke Heroism with the boons and quest, and 1 AP to invoke War in how that purpose is tied up with the focus on destruction. With his lineage being part luck god and part insanity goddess, I want his Domain to be that of Tides, as he is fated to become the Moon if this purpose plays out. Hoping to get an additional help there from the Centipede Knight, if he agrees as above. Tricky Dick Nixon fucked around with this message at 14:33 on Jun 19, 2018 |
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Jun 19, 2018 05:59
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Hust - The Fetid Temple AP: 0/8 - FP: 6 - Damage: None Hust viewed his creations proudly, smiling from ear to ear. He watched Claw take the knee and ask his wishes. The new Demi-god still towered over the petite Pest God. "Claim the Shore." Hust said with no hesitation. "Make the beach yours. Watch the sea. It will be yours to decide what rises from the ocean, what is permitted to leave the land. Your kingdom will be where water meets sand, and you will guard it zealously." He patted Claw on his burly shoulders. "... What do you want me to do, knight you? Come on, get at it. You got your orders." "As for you Carapace." Hust said spinning on his heel to face his now gorgeous hard-shelled debutant. "I task you with the Uku. They need to be taught. The other Gods have muddled their minds with Laws and Shovels and Books and Clothes and ... Bullshit like that. It's all crutches. I want you to get them here, I want you to get them naked, I want to see them living comfortably off scum and refuse like every other decent creature in nature. You're gonna seduce them with simplicity. Tell them that jobs are for suckers, weapons are for the weak, shoes give you grey hair and the noblest homes are dug out of the ground with your own loving teeth. Bring 'em back to nature. Bring 'em back to reality. In a couple decades, they'll get used to how convenient life is when you don't need things. They'll find the beauty in it." "As for me ... poo poo. What am I supposed to do?" Hust cast his eyes around suspiciously. He seemed at a loss. "...There's some kinda newborn god, right? God-Spawn? An Impressionable divine youth? ... Ravana or something? Well - I'm gonna go pay a visit! And I'm gonna bring a gift! Kids love gifts! Like spiders! Kids love big Spiders!" Carapace's eyes narrowed slightly, in her experience the Uku youth did not in fact love big spiders. Before she could voice any doubt however, Hust had disappeared up the trunk of a rotten tree. She smiled and instead let her eyes fall on the powerful Claw, who was himself enraptured by the sight of Carapace. She smiled demurely and blew a small kiss across her black, chitinous palm. "Until we meet again, handsome." Claw blushed. And on the far side of the island, in the bedchambers of little Ravana, Hust's voice rang clear and unapologetic. "Ravana is a Boy's name?! drat, I probably shoulda asked before I made this four foot tarantula pink and gold. Ah well, it's done now. And it can't be Undone. Never ever. Opal's gonna be your friend for life little Ravana. Don't you say Uncle Hust never did anything for you." "Just ... Call it salmon instead of pink. That's masculine." _________________________________________________________________________ Ordering Claw to use his AP (or whatever) claiming the shore and both guarding the land from the ocean and the ocean from the land. He's gonna be the gate-keeper, of sorts. Ordering Carapace to use her AP (or whatever) teaching the Uku how to live off the land, in the dirt, like noble savages. Starting a culture whose primary OOC flavor/tone is something like pygmies meets druids. Hust is delivering an unwelcome gift to the newborn god Ravana, calling on his Hunger The Violated Sanctum. Its a tarantula of remarkable size and great intellect. It will be fiercely loyal to Ravana. It will refuse to ever leave his side. It will be his familiar and will one day fight beside Ravana in battle. It is pink and gold ... In a pretty sort of way. (The intention was to make something vaguely reminiscent in color to a very bright, very full, harvest moon. Or to the reflection of an Opal or a Moon-Pearl. So, there is a tie-in to Ravana's moon theme - and I'm not just being gaudy for comical effect. Although, yes, I did want to saddle the thing that kills the sun with an effeminate attache, even though its a terrifyingly large tarantula). KhediveRex fucked around with this message at 08:12 on Jun 19, 2018 |
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Jun 19, 2018 08:08
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Yachalador - The Temple of Two As One AP: 0/8, FP: 6, Damage: None He gazed upon their child and was well pleased, for the child was the glory of the mother and the father. He left his mark and his contribution on Ravana the King-to-be, his share and portion of parenthood. Assisting Ran's action, spending 1 FP from Yachalador's Hunger for Self-Aggrandizement that the child may glorify their parents, largely bolstering Ran's will and intent.
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Jun 19, 2018 09:22
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Yachalador - The Temple of Two As One AP: 0/8, FP: 6, Damage: None As the end of the century approached, the Golden Autumn reached out to each of the other divinities and demidivines, cordially inviting them to a Convocation, a gathering of the mighty, that they might converse together and perhaps plot out a future course collectively. He hosted it in the dreamscape coterminous with the Temple of Two as One, shaped as befit the other gods.
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Jun 22, 2018 13:26
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Haaramhaa - Dreamscape AP: 0/8, FP: 5, Damage: None Haaramhaa watched where the Overseer had cast its eyes before. "A sorry fate has befallen you, lost kin", a voice, slow and gentle like falling snow, "But you shall know Peace too, in the end." "This is my promise to you." ~~~~~~ An alien presence made its presence known in the Dreamscape. A presence that somehow did not feel like it belonged there. "Though malignant", a voice as sharp as shattering ice, "even this place shall know the presence of Peace when called upon." The titanic form of Haaramhaa was made manifest, the shifting Dream and flight of fancy all around him immediately freezing into crystal, hopes stalling to eternal stasis. The Overseer was not present, but even in this place out of space and time, its gaze could easily pierce, the sharp glare easy to feel. "Speak now", a voice even like an ancient glacier, "O mootmaster." "And make your thoughts bare." OOC: oh how nice, a Godmoot! Theantero fucked around with this message at 16:26 on Jun 22, 2018 |
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Jun 22, 2018 14:29
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Huiletos - Thornwall AP: 6/8 Feeling the century drawing to a close, the god of Knights and Nobels decided it was time to empower a servant of his own. But not another Uku demigod. He would make himself a godly pet from the among the War-Cats. It would assist him in guiding young well-born Ukus in etiquette, courtly affairs, tending to their own cat, dealing with peasants and merchants, romance and challenging them to do their utmost. More importantly, the new demigod would remain after his sojourn upon the Island was over. Obviously a the blessings of this Lord of Cats would be handy in battle, but more importantly it should help Huiletoi find the right way to live. Aristocracy At the Godsmoot AP: 4/8 ||| FP:1 ||| Damage: None "Bonjour fellow dieties, how goes the building of the tribe into a nation? Keeping yourselves busy? How is little Ravenna, getting ready to rule the island as Chief God of all Uku? I certainly don't want the title, and wouldn't expect anything I empower to seek it. I wish him well, somebody's got to keep this Island from regressing once we all leave "How about we stabilize the dreamworld a little? Seems a shame for the Uku to fear sleeping. A bit of Romance and they'll start to dream more of kittens and crabshells and houses and hotsprings? Perhaps they'll dream up new uses for their tools, new ways to build, new things to explore. 2 AP and Romance to fix the dream world. "And finally, what has anybody learned of the history of this place? It seems that strange gods may have died here, and taken the life of the Island with them. Or just trashed it like partiers who've had too much wine. Perhaps we should look into it a bit more. Perhaps the two Heros among us should delve the secrets of the volcano and the buried underworld? What do you say, Ran? Once Claw returns from my little quest, shall we push into the secret caves he or we have discovered and drag the remains into the light of day?" edit: I have adjusted the costs for my first action. Speleothing fucked around with this message at 00:50 on Jun 23, 2018 |
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Jun 22, 2018 21:18
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Yachalador - The Godsmoot, Dreamscape AP: 0/8, FP: 6, Damage: None He acknowledged the Overseer with a magnanimous greeting that befit peers, and spake, "I have, in my existence, found that my purpose is easier to fulfil in concert with a pantheon rather than purely on my own whim. Our time here feels limited, does it not? And we are not the first divine beings to touch this place, nor are we the only ones still extant. When this dreamscape was forged, there was power there that did not come from Ran, from Ironsides, from Huiletos' recent addition or from myself. So, we have mysteries, things shrouded even from our divine knowledge. Your Peace, o Lord of Winter, is assured only if you truly know nothing will disturb it, so let us work together to discover the story of this place, with true knowledge our sure foundation for our endeavours." He likewise bade Huiletos welcome, a cheerful smile to the other namer of an Uku subset. "Sage questions, o Poet of Battle. I shall address the first, as it seems to be going rather well. Through strife, there is progress and change, a conflict that should hopefully outlive this era. In the next, a unifying force to oppose, to bring them together beneath the aegis of the King who is to come, though I will not presume to speak for him on his plans."
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Jun 23, 2018 11:49
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