Age of Myths (Age of Sigmar Quest)
The world was ending.
How it came to this? This story could...
The world was ending.
How it came to this? This story could...
Age of Myths (Age of Sigmar): Third Time the charm
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ganonso
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Age of Myths (Age of Sigmar Quest)
The world was ending.
How it came to this? This story could and has fill volumes. Perhaps this fiery end had been written when the great gates to the Aether that stood at the two poles had been forced open in the mists of age past, unleashing a torrent of horrors. Perhaps that even when the Ever-ships of the First Race had sailed the sea of stars and that the Old Ones first glanced on the orb they decided to seed, destiny was already in motion. Perhaps it was not the case. Perhaps that a simple pebble, a single death or a single life could have paid for the world and left the Four Faces of the Devourer deprived of their great feast. Alas it was not the case. Mortals and gods had tried to oppose the shadow and had failed and died. Even the eight new gods had been vanquished and they lay as corpses in the streets or around the world's mortal wound, without being able to do it.
But even the bleakest end holds the seeds for a new beginning, for gods are born of catastrophe as much as they are born of paradises. In the darkness beyond the world, they were not Four to howl and scream and whisper with the voices of the mad, still reeling from the agony of their terrible birth, still covered in the bloody caul of its aftermath. No they were Ten but none knew that. There were Ten who howled in pain and burning as the world died around them. Some of them had been mortal but of different races, other had been gods and been worshipped as such. Three had been elves, haughty and immortal and possessed of the lore of magic. Two had been dwarves, children of stone and fire whose word held strong as the mountain side. Two had been of ancient but opposed race, cold blooded aloofness and thoughtless savagery, both of them as inhuman as the other. Three had been human or creatures that once were human shapes, two of them had struggled to avert this fate, the last one had done everything to set it into motion.
Their screams sounded the same thought.
It lasted centuries or perhaps millennia. You could be surprised at what can still crawl while the air become thick with fleshy nightmares and the night alive with screams and whispers. The Nine and the Tenth struggled and stalked the land, absorbing the souls and symbols best resonating with the eldritch magic they were infused. In their wake the world was unmade as, slowly or quickly, Fire, Heavens, Beasts, Death, Metal, Light, Life and Shadow devoured anything they deemed kin. It was not an evil act but a thoughtless birth scream, the gods seeking to preserve most of their old home in their own essence, until at last it remained only a spark of molten fire drifting in the maelstrom of the Warp.
Or perhaps it lasted only a moment. A horrible and wondrous moment where the air become scalding energy, where the seas boiled, where the heavens were rolled like one roll a parchment after finishing its reading. The air lacked lightness, the sea depths, the fire flame and all was unmade in the primordial slime, save the Ten and what they absorbed, flotsam and jetsam adrift in the waves.
For in the Realm of Chaos, time is not linear and effect can sometimes precede cause for the great delight of the gods that reigns there.
Mortals that envy the gods, do not envy the birth of the Ten! For it was frightening beyond all mortal fear.
Some of them saw their surroundings as inky blackness, others as a riot of deadly colors and riotous tints burning their eyes and bringing their minds to the brink of madness. Some believed they were cas adrift in a great sea and felt the weight of deep black waters, other saw fire and air and were pulled and pushed by the howling winds. One of them saw a great pit of quicksand biting at him from all directions. And they fell. There was no up and no down but they fell, away from the world of their birth, away from the world they failed.
The first of them to release his power had been the first of them to be born and the first of them to die the true death. Kroak of Lustria who had held the souls of the ancient Slann race, that were in the world at its beginning and whose end had heralded its end, grew to monstrous proportions before exploding outward in a shower of stars. And the Warp was repulsed from this explosion and the Sea of Stars mantled the world anew, as a cloak against the attention of chaos. And in the starry night, under the strange light of nebulaes and galaxies, the Slanns opened their eyes anew and they were alone.
Sigmar was the next. Sigmar whose name had long held the Great Ennemy at bay, he fell through the newly born heavens but was unwilling to forsake the world of his youth, so he screamed and the souls that filled him tore him asunder. The Hammerer died before being reborn, a storm arising from his remains and bridging the distant stars with roads of clouds and lightning. The stars, seeded by thunder were made fertile and new creatures were born to roam the worlds uncounted. Thus the ancient and the young created the Realm of Azyr where distance is a myth and lightning and comets rule before ancient hidden might.
He who seeded the wanton void next, none know exactly what his name is. For the first thing he did was to split himself in two, a young warrior in brilliant mail and wings of fire, and a bent mage made of pure moonlight. They were twins but not alike and elven blood ran in their veins. They screamed too and around them the light that surrounded them built grandiose landscapes to imitate what they had lost. And it was grander that the isle that went below the waves for it was whole and untainted, and neither mountain peak or watery abyss held anything but wonder for the elven souls that came to roam in them. Thus Tyrion and Teclis created the Realm of Hysh where rivers spell mystic patterns and the sun is in splendor.
Next to stop was a dwarven god, ancient beyond belief and young as the end of the world. Grimmir was his name and often was he invoked in oaths of vengeance and war. His red hair now burning without harm he screamed not under the strain and burned in silence. And around him grew seas of tar and great volcanos and calderas. He was wounded by his endless struggles and creatures of smokeless fire sprung with each drop of his blood touching the earth. Harsh and rough were these lands but he loved what he had wrought for fire, be it from the earth or the heart, must be splendid and dangerous, and taming it must be a challenge. Thus was created the Realm of Aqshy where passion rules the heart and source of the flames of the universe.
At the same time another dwarf who took the name of Grugni, without remembering if he was truly the old blacksmith, stopped his fall. His scream too created high iron mountains, and seas of quicksilver and plain of razored steel, and forest of viridian copper. However, as he regained his bearings and the control of his sense he was not satisfied with his savage and sterile domain. Creating the tools of the forge he set up to work and changed and shifted much of the new world, eroding mountain, taming the seas and erecting cities of gold for his people to live him. Great throngs of golems by him were wrought, to roam the land and put it to use, for metal must be forged to be beautiful. Thus was created the Realm of Chamon where metal shifts and change and gold and iron and silver are one and the same.
Next was Allarielle the Radiant, bearing the hope and the life of the world in her body. She saw the light of the Realms above and rejoiced for knew that life could endure. She alone of the Ten release her power willingly and her realm was thus the brightest and the greatest. For trees as great as temple pillars and fields of new red flowers and fertile earth and clear water were born as soon as she entered labor and what she birthed looked like the old world but covered in full by green hues and whispering woods. Then beasts and birds to come in the trees while they walked to bow before their queen. Thus was created the Realm of Ghyran where trees walk and forest is alive like in the day of yore.
Savage was he that stopped near her. Savage and unfocused and bearer of the rage of a whole race in addition to the multiples monsters of creation. So he howled for eons in the darkness and the tempest and at first his screams fashioned a rough land of great mountains and brackish swamps, of fetid heat and ghastly cold. Then when the jungle and the desert alike were set up, his screams became beasts and dragons and monsters and the entire race of the greenskins reborn from their creator's fertile loins rejoiced at the battle without end that was awaiting them. Thus Gork (or perhaps Mork) created the Realm of Ghur where great reptiles savage themselves under the red angry sun.
Long had the king of shadows held his power, for pain was an old friend to him and he bore his kiss better than the others. Still came a moment where he could only say: "No more!" and release the bounty he had taken. Inky darkness formed around him but to his eyes, secrets appeared like corpses in water, thirteen layers of shadow and intrigue he formed, thirteen layers of fear and spite and judgement waiting for the unconscious to come in. Amidst dark forest and endless night, he established a realm once more, found his mother consort to shadow beings of great power. He did not know if he had birthed her with the world but he didn't care. Thus Malekith created the Realm of Ulgu where shadows whisper of secrets yet to be uncovered.
Last was the Undying King who, more than anyone, had desired godhood. Were the choice his to make, he would never has released it. Yet the souls burned in him, howling to release and not a few of them had loathed it while they walked under the sun. Glutted he was, beyond belief and still at a moment, he was forced to release his grasp and let his power flow like water. Around him fields of graves were sowed, black seas of amethyst and their gardens of drowned ones flowed. Whole kingdoms of shades arose from the ground, courts of flesh-eaters, great city of vampires fleeing the coming of the light and like an abcess on one's skin, cities of living dead with golden armor and power over the other dead. Thus Nagash created the Realm of Shysh where all the dead come to find their rest
And the Tenth. He fell further than the rest. It was not greed that pushed him to burn in the abyss, falling like lightning through the tempest until he was out of sight even from the lowest of the Nine. It was hate for he had hated the world that was, and destroyed it. He did not will to birth a world of its own, wishing only to destroy all that have ever been, even his Dark Gods he loathed with as much passion as he loathed the rest of creation. Still the fire of creation burning in him would not be denied. The world that come to be created around him was rough and mutable and ill-defined yet it was livable. And the Tenth birthed anew the beastmen, the ratmen, the worshippers of destruction to live in these lands and suffer as he suffered. Thus at the nadir of creation, the furthest away from the light, Archaon created the innumerable Realms of Chaos.
Yet perhaps the Dark Lord still held a shard of light and life. For from the fertile ground of his new realm grew a great tree made of magic and dark wood. Roots in the madness of the universe it grew and its branches soon found their way in every Realm, a pillar to hold the worlds together, immune by accident or design to any weapons, sorcery or corruption, gate and key to the Realms.
Thus was ordained all that is.
And long did the Incarnates slumbered in the heart of their new domains, broken by the effort of creating universe and weakened by the loss of so many souls they had added to their own substance. Sleep was the only way for them to regain a little of what they have been, and more than that did they regain. Eons passed, kingdoms were born from the souls of the freed, great civilizations that sometimes resembled the kingdoms of the fallen world and sometimes did not. Dwarves, elves, men, orcs and ogres prospered in every realm and when they died, they journeyed to Shysh where every soul was drawn to be returned to the cycle. Yet all was not well in the Realms while the Incarnates slept the sleep of the ages, for great beasts born of magic and the Realms itself beset the peoples of these places, driving them to despair. That was true of every realm, from Azyr to Shysh, even fair Hysh and Ghyran. Lesser gods, sometimes coming from defeated realities where the Chaos Gods had won and devoured everything, sometimes called by the wellsprings of magic themselves bickered and fought.
Until the Incarnates woke from their enchanted sleep and fought against them to announce the beginning of Creation
Who are you among the New Gods?
[] The Sublime Communion of the Slaans, Incarnate of Stars
[] Sigmar the Hammerer, Incarnate of Storms
[] Tyrion-Teclis the Mourning Sage, Incarnate of Light
[] Grimmir the Savage Warrior, Incarnate of Fire
[] Grugni the Fertile Blacksmith, Incarnate of Metal
[] Allarielle the Radiant Mother, Incarnate of Life
[] Gorkamorka the Twin Monsters, Incarnate of Beasts
[] Malekith the Dark Phoenix, Incarnate of Shadows.
[] Nagash the Undying King, Incarnate of Death
[] Archaon Destroyer of Worlds, Incarnate of Chaos Undivided
The world was ending.
How it came to this? This story could and has fill volumes. Perhaps this fiery end had been written when the great gates to the Aether that stood at the two poles had been forced open in the mists of age past, unleashing a torrent of horrors. Perhaps that even when the Ever-ships of the First Race had sailed the sea of stars and that the Old Ones first glanced on the orb they decided to seed, destiny was already in motion. Perhaps it was not the case. Perhaps that a simple pebble, a single death or a single life could have paid for the world and left the Four Faces of the Devourer deprived of their great feast. Alas it was not the case. Mortals and gods had tried to oppose the shadow and had failed and died. Even the eight new gods had been vanquished and they lay as corpses in the streets or around the world's mortal wound, without being able to do it.
But even the bleakest end holds the seeds for a new beginning, for gods are born of catastrophe as much as they are born of paradises. In the darkness beyond the world, they were not Four to howl and scream and whisper with the voices of the mad, still reeling from the agony of their terrible birth, still covered in the bloody caul of its aftermath. No they were Ten but none knew that. There were Ten who howled in pain and burning as the world died around them. Some of them had been mortal but of different races, other had been gods and been worshipped as such. Three had been elves, haughty and immortal and possessed of the lore of magic. Two had been dwarves, children of stone and fire whose word held strong as the mountain side. Two had been of ancient but opposed race, cold blooded aloofness and thoughtless savagery, both of them as inhuman as the other. Three had been human or creatures that once were human shapes, two of them had struggled to avert this fate, the last one had done everything to set it into motion.
Their screams sounded the same thought.
It lasted centuries or perhaps millennia. You could be surprised at what can still crawl while the air become thick with fleshy nightmares and the night alive with screams and whispers. The Nine and the Tenth struggled and stalked the land, absorbing the souls and symbols best resonating with the eldritch magic they were infused. In their wake the world was unmade as, slowly or quickly, Fire, Heavens, Beasts, Death, Metal, Light, Life and Shadow devoured anything they deemed kin. It was not an evil act but a thoughtless birth scream, the gods seeking to preserve most of their old home in their own essence, until at last it remained only a spark of molten fire drifting in the maelstrom of the Warp.
Or perhaps it lasted only a moment. A horrible and wondrous moment where the air become scalding energy, where the seas boiled, where the heavens were rolled like one roll a parchment after finishing its reading. The air lacked lightness, the sea depths, the fire flame and all was unmade in the primordial slime, save the Ten and what they absorbed, flotsam and jetsam adrift in the waves.
For in the Realm of Chaos, time is not linear and effect can sometimes precede cause for the great delight of the gods that reigns there.
Mortals that envy the gods, do not envy the birth of the Ten! For it was frightening beyond all mortal fear.
Some of them saw their surroundings as inky blackness, others as a riot of deadly colors and riotous tints burning their eyes and bringing their minds to the brink of madness. Some believed they were cas adrift in a great sea and felt the weight of deep black waters, other saw fire and air and were pulled and pushed by the howling winds. One of them saw a great pit of quicksand biting at him from all directions. And they fell. There was no up and no down but they fell, away from the world of their birth, away from the world they failed.
The first of them to release his power had been the first of them to be born and the first of them to die the true death. Kroak of Lustria who had held the souls of the ancient Slann race, that were in the world at its beginning and whose end had heralded its end, grew to monstrous proportions before exploding outward in a shower of stars. And the Warp was repulsed from this explosion and the Sea of Stars mantled the world anew, as a cloak against the attention of chaos. And in the starry night, under the strange light of nebulaes and galaxies, the Slanns opened their eyes anew and they were alone.
Sigmar was the next. Sigmar whose name had long held the Great Ennemy at bay, he fell through the newly born heavens but was unwilling to forsake the world of his youth, so he screamed and the souls that filled him tore him asunder. The Hammerer died before being reborn, a storm arising from his remains and bridging the distant stars with roads of clouds and lightning. The stars, seeded by thunder were made fertile and new creatures were born to roam the worlds uncounted. Thus the ancient and the young created the Realm of Azyr where distance is a myth and lightning and comets rule before ancient hidden might.
He who seeded the wanton void next, none know exactly what his name is. For the first thing he did was to split himself in two, a young warrior in brilliant mail and wings of fire, and a bent mage made of pure moonlight. They were twins but not alike and elven blood ran in their veins. They screamed too and around them the light that surrounded them built grandiose landscapes to imitate what they had lost. And it was grander that the isle that went below the waves for it was whole and untainted, and neither mountain peak or watery abyss held anything but wonder for the elven souls that came to roam in them. Thus Tyrion and Teclis created the Realm of Hysh where rivers spell mystic patterns and the sun is in splendor.
Next to stop was a dwarven god, ancient beyond belief and young as the end of the world. Grimmir was his name and often was he invoked in oaths of vengeance and war. His red hair now burning without harm he screamed not under the strain and burned in silence. And around him grew seas of tar and great volcanos and calderas. He was wounded by his endless struggles and creatures of smokeless fire sprung with each drop of his blood touching the earth. Harsh and rough were these lands but he loved what he had wrought for fire, be it from the earth or the heart, must be splendid and dangerous, and taming it must be a challenge. Thus was created the Realm of Aqshy where passion rules the heart and source of the flames of the universe.
At the same time another dwarf who took the name of Grugni, without remembering if he was truly the old blacksmith, stopped his fall. His scream too created high iron mountains, and seas of quicksilver and plain of razored steel, and forest of viridian copper. However, as he regained his bearings and the control of his sense he was not satisfied with his savage and sterile domain. Creating the tools of the forge he set up to work and changed and shifted much of the new world, eroding mountain, taming the seas and erecting cities of gold for his people to live him. Great throngs of golems by him were wrought, to roam the land and put it to use, for metal must be forged to be beautiful. Thus was created the Realm of Chamon where metal shifts and change and gold and iron and silver are one and the same.
Next was Allarielle the Radiant, bearing the hope and the life of the world in her body. She saw the light of the Realms above and rejoiced for knew that life could endure. She alone of the Ten release her power willingly and her realm was thus the brightest and the greatest. For trees as great as temple pillars and fields of new red flowers and fertile earth and clear water were born as soon as she entered labor and what she birthed looked like the old world but covered in full by green hues and whispering woods. Then beasts and birds to come in the trees while they walked to bow before their queen. Thus was created the Realm of Ghyran where trees walk and forest is alive like in the day of yore.
Savage was he that stopped near her. Savage and unfocused and bearer of the rage of a whole race in addition to the multiples monsters of creation. So he howled for eons in the darkness and the tempest and at first his screams fashioned a rough land of great mountains and brackish swamps, of fetid heat and ghastly cold. Then when the jungle and the desert alike were set up, his screams became beasts and dragons and monsters and the entire race of the greenskins reborn from their creator's fertile loins rejoiced at the battle without end that was awaiting them. Thus Gork (or perhaps Mork) created the Realm of Ghur where great reptiles savage themselves under the red angry sun.
Long had the king of shadows held his power, for pain was an old friend to him and he bore his kiss better than the others. Still came a moment where he could only say: "No more!" and release the bounty he had taken. Inky darkness formed around him but to his eyes, secrets appeared like corpses in water, thirteen layers of shadow and intrigue he formed, thirteen layers of fear and spite and judgement waiting for the unconscious to come in. Amidst dark forest and endless night, he established a realm once more, found his mother consort to shadow beings of great power. He did not know if he had birthed her with the world but he didn't care. Thus Malekith created the Realm of Ulgu where shadows whisper of secrets yet to be uncovered.
Last was the Undying King who, more than anyone, had desired godhood. Were the choice his to make, he would never has released it. Yet the souls burned in him, howling to release and not a few of them had loathed it while they walked under the sun. Glutted he was, beyond belief and still at a moment, he was forced to release his grasp and let his power flow like water. Around him fields of graves were sowed, black seas of amethyst and their gardens of drowned ones flowed. Whole kingdoms of shades arose from the ground, courts of flesh-eaters, great city of vampires fleeing the coming of the light and like an abcess on one's skin, cities of living dead with golden armor and power over the other dead. Thus Nagash created the Realm of Shysh where all the dead come to find their rest
And the Tenth. He fell further than the rest. It was not greed that pushed him to burn in the abyss, falling like lightning through the tempest until he was out of sight even from the lowest of the Nine. It was hate for he had hated the world that was, and destroyed it. He did not will to birth a world of its own, wishing only to destroy all that have ever been, even his Dark Gods he loathed with as much passion as he loathed the rest of creation. Still the fire of creation burning in him would not be denied. The world that come to be created around him was rough and mutable and ill-defined yet it was livable. And the Tenth birthed anew the beastmen, the ratmen, the worshippers of destruction to live in these lands and suffer as he suffered. Thus at the nadir of creation, the furthest away from the light, Archaon created the innumerable Realms of Chaos.
Yet perhaps the Dark Lord still held a shard of light and life. For from the fertile ground of his new realm grew a great tree made of magic and dark wood. Roots in the madness of the universe it grew and its branches soon found their way in every Realm, a pillar to hold the worlds together, immune by accident or design to any weapons, sorcery or corruption, gate and key to the Realms.
Thus was ordained all that is.
And long did the Incarnates slumbered in the heart of their new domains, broken by the effort of creating universe and weakened by the loss of so many souls they had added to their own substance. Sleep was the only way for them to regain a little of what they have been, and more than that did they regain. Eons passed, kingdoms were born from the souls of the freed, great civilizations that sometimes resembled the kingdoms of the fallen world and sometimes did not. Dwarves, elves, men, orcs and ogres prospered in every realm and when they died, they journeyed to Shysh where every soul was drawn to be returned to the cycle. Yet all was not well in the Realms while the Incarnates slept the sleep of the ages, for great beasts born of magic and the Realms itself beset the peoples of these places, driving them to despair. That was true of every realm, from Azyr to Shysh, even fair Hysh and Ghyran. Lesser gods, sometimes coming from defeated realities where the Chaos Gods had won and devoured everything, sometimes called by the wellsprings of magic themselves bickered and fought.
Until the Incarnates woke from their enchanted sleep and fought against them to announce the beginning of Creation
Who are you among the New Gods?
[] The Sublime Communion of the Slaans, Incarnate of Stars
[] Sigmar the Hammerer, Incarnate of Storms
[] Tyrion-Teclis the Mourning Sage, Incarnate of Light
[] Grimmir the Savage Warrior, Incarnate of Fire
[] Grugni the Fertile Blacksmith, Incarnate of Metal
[] Allarielle the Radiant Mother, Incarnate of Life
[] Gorkamorka the Twin Monsters, Incarnate of Beasts
[] Malekith the Dark Phoenix, Incarnate of Shadows.
[] Nagash the Undying King, Incarnate of Death
[] Archaon Destroyer of Worlds, Incarnate of Chaos Undivided
Character choice: Finals
Awakening
ganonso
Compulsive Quest Starter
- Location
- PACA France
Awakening
In your first youth, you were born in space, aboard the everships of the First Race, the Old Ones and the Urfolk. You don't know if you were crafted as a shadow of their forms, molded at their image and resemblance and you didn't care. They were bright figures beyond your ken, beings whose mastery of the cosmos confined to the divine. They were not gods though but flesh and bone and blood who did not intrude on the material universe but were born on it. They made you as vigilant servant of their wills and as you pushed your birth-scream you saw the countless stars of heaven's fields contrasting with the carved stone of your ship. You looked at the stars and your first question was "How many are they?" The voice of your masters thundered in your skull, telling you all would be brought to light and life under the wise dominion of the Old Ones. Brothers you had in this time, crawling from the same pools as you. With them you attended lessons where signs of the stone shifted to the voice of your lords telling you of the Laws who arrayed the universe and the means to change it. Life was good then, full of possibilities.
You saw the world in its utmost youth filled with life waiting for your masters' firm claw. Dragons and Ogres with the bodies of dragons fought in the mists while giants walked the land, forests growing on their backs. You changed all that and more. You took the world in your hands and carried it closer to its sun. You shaped a moon and set it to light the night. You looked at the seas and said to them: "No more! Here will break the pride of your waves." You commanded to the seasons, put the cycle of water in place and froze the surface of the abyss solid. From living clay in pools of stone and glass you crafted the strong Sauruses and the agile Skinks to help and serve you as you helped and served the Old Ones. Other races were destined to other tasks, some of which you are not sure. For the elves and their gods came from seeds brought from afar and humanity's many throng arose from simian stock, the Dwarves of the mountains were meant to build the world and defend it against the Empyrean while brutish ogres and nimble halflings were unfinished sketches, made just before the great catastrophe.
Shining gates opened by your masters' word connected the world to the rest of the universe. Sometimes you remember they opened on the chaos of the Warp, tamed by science older than the world, sometimes you saw the inkling of some place who was neither the Empyrean nor the material universe. When they crumbled you had already been bloodied by war with the Orks escaped from their confinement pens but you couldn't imagine what would happen. Even to this day you don't know what brought Chaos to your world even if you thought sometimes to spy an inkling of an answer when looking at the elves. You had the vision of creatures much like them birthing a monster in the throes of their decadence, losing both their crown and their soul to their son-daughter. Even if those on your world were blameless you decided to shoulder the war alone, especially after your masters disappeared and your prayers went unanswered. What happened to them who were mighty as gods as the daemons rampaged through the wreckage of their portals you don't know. You directed your servants to their worship but in your heart ever dwelled the blasphemous thought they had decided to abandon you to the mercy of the devouring gods.
You fought the endless war from the beginning of the world to its fiery end. You stood with all your brothers and armies of lizards and beasts against the first tide of daemons threatening to consume your world. You discovered loss at this time as your brethren were slain until only one remained of the first spawning who had seen the world from the outside before stepping on it. You fought the Eidolons of the Primordial Annihilator, corrupt gods in their own right as they came to you in an endless wave of filth and impurity. You saw them face to face and forbade them access into the world. You, a part of you, first among those of the first spawning, lord of the first city ever raised on the world, you died to their claws but that was not the end. The Green Sun itself struck you down with his blade, splitting your mortal flesh in twain but you refused to die. Your spirit rose like a white cloud and you became more powerful than you could ever have imagined, mighty enough to banish the daemons from your home.
You refused to die. Whatever happened to your people, you refused to die and let go off the world. Daemons came in their hordes, then those of the elves who had forgot who you were, then the loathsome children of Yakeen Voidsinger and you didn't submit. Plague came and shrouded your cities in its embrae and you didn't submit. That caricature of a moon brought upon in the First Coming of Chaos was broken asunder and the fragments hurled to the world and your last act was to limit the devastation as well as you could. Even as you died in the flesh you refused to give in. You felt the world roll merilly from your grasp into the abyss but you willed yourself to endure, shielding your souls from the madness of Chaos and devouring those who wielded the power of the star into their beings. You saw your creation disappear in the Warp, like some imperfect sketch an artist throw into the fire and yet you didn't submit to oblivion's embrace or betrayed your oath to your departed masters. Your scream made this place and from the jaws of the Dark Gods you took the corpse of the world that was, happy in even this insignificant victory.
Your power crafted this place, this realm, so similar to the sights of your youth. A realm where distance is but a fleeting dream and one can step on stars to get to the next destination. A realm cold and uncaring you share with the storm who will destroy the enemies of creation. Something in your old, cold heart warned you about something when you realized that despite your powers, despite the vast expanses of stars, planets, and other celestial bodies produced by your magic you couldn't create life save for the ephemeral images of your troops. So you willingly went to sleep, letting your body be carried on the winds of space.
There was also another reason you went to sleep. In the World that Was you carried the old designs of your forgotten masters. You failed and now, for the first time in your life you are free. It is not something you are accustomed or even prepared for, so you decided to flee the realization by sleeping the sleep of the ages. Perhaps you would never wake and thus be spared the harsh decisions of independence. Alas it is not the case and you stir.
You sensed in your dreams the coming and goings of great many people filling the emptiness of space, some were born of your primeval scream, others, like you, ran from worlds long destroyed. There are gods and monsters and heroes who hunt across the stars and hate the scions of chaos as much as you do.
Where do you wake up?
[] Sun: You awake near the golden orb of a sun letting the golden light melt away the coffin of ice you were encased in. Near the burning stars you can see temples where priests with masks of gold offer thanks to the king of all kings.
[] Moon: You awake near the silvery orb of a bright moon letting the ice covering you disappear in the bright radiance. You look at the ever-shifting moon and see you are in a system of celestial bodies where the howl of wolves is loud enough to shake the very stars.
[] Stars: You break your cocoon in the sea of stars seeing old cities similar to yours. Humans skulk in the ruins offering thanks to the Morning Star and trying to divine the dictates of Fate. They are beset by demons and monsters and hide in great edifice of carved stone.
[] The World that Was: Your journeys brought you back to the old world shining in the darkness. You will feel perhaps sadness or shame looking to this errant orb but you also notice a storm is brewing near your position, burning with great power and waiting for the moment the clouds will be pierced lightning and the rain pours.
Also how do you feel?
[] Determined: Your problems came from the fact you didn't leash the younger races enough and they fell to the wiles of Chaos. Even before the Skavens were a problem your armies didn't leave Lustria. That should cease. You are the oldest foe of Chaos and will be respected as one.
[] Regretful: You failed the world entrusted in your care because you didn't cooperate enough with the younger races. Many of the horrors who befell the world could have been avoided if you communicated clearly with at least the elves. You are free now from the mandate of the Old Ones and you will try to change your ancient ways.
[] Vengeful: Chaos took everything from you. Your masters, your brothers, your people, your world. Looking back you didn't hurt them back nearly enough. No more. You are filled with a cold reptilian fury and you will harness it to great intent. Chaos will suffer. Its innumerable children will be cleansed in fire and with their corpses you will build monuments to the price of their insolence. Their gods will die and their taint will be expunged from all universes that ever was.
In your first youth, you were born in space, aboard the everships of the First Race, the Old Ones and the Urfolk. You don't know if you were crafted as a shadow of their forms, molded at their image and resemblance and you didn't care. They were bright figures beyond your ken, beings whose mastery of the cosmos confined to the divine. They were not gods though but flesh and bone and blood who did not intrude on the material universe but were born on it. They made you as vigilant servant of their wills and as you pushed your birth-scream you saw the countless stars of heaven's fields contrasting with the carved stone of your ship. You looked at the stars and your first question was "How many are they?" The voice of your masters thundered in your skull, telling you all would be brought to light and life under the wise dominion of the Old Ones. Brothers you had in this time, crawling from the same pools as you. With them you attended lessons where signs of the stone shifted to the voice of your lords telling you of the Laws who arrayed the universe and the means to change it. Life was good then, full of possibilities.
You saw the world in its utmost youth filled with life waiting for your masters' firm claw. Dragons and Ogres with the bodies of dragons fought in the mists while giants walked the land, forests growing on their backs. You changed all that and more. You took the world in your hands and carried it closer to its sun. You shaped a moon and set it to light the night. You looked at the seas and said to them: "No more! Here will break the pride of your waves." You commanded to the seasons, put the cycle of water in place and froze the surface of the abyss solid. From living clay in pools of stone and glass you crafted the strong Sauruses and the agile Skinks to help and serve you as you helped and served the Old Ones. Other races were destined to other tasks, some of which you are not sure. For the elves and their gods came from seeds brought from afar and humanity's many throng arose from simian stock, the Dwarves of the mountains were meant to build the world and defend it against the Empyrean while brutish ogres and nimble halflings were unfinished sketches, made just before the great catastrophe.
Shining gates opened by your masters' word connected the world to the rest of the universe. Sometimes you remember they opened on the chaos of the Warp, tamed by science older than the world, sometimes you saw the inkling of some place who was neither the Empyrean nor the material universe. When they crumbled you had already been bloodied by war with the Orks escaped from their confinement pens but you couldn't imagine what would happen. Even to this day you don't know what brought Chaos to your world even if you thought sometimes to spy an inkling of an answer when looking at the elves. You had the vision of creatures much like them birthing a monster in the throes of their decadence, losing both their crown and their soul to their son-daughter. Even if those on your world were blameless you decided to shoulder the war alone, especially after your masters disappeared and your prayers went unanswered. What happened to them who were mighty as gods as the daemons rampaged through the wreckage of their portals you don't know. You directed your servants to their worship but in your heart ever dwelled the blasphemous thought they had decided to abandon you to the mercy of the devouring gods.
You fought the endless war from the beginning of the world to its fiery end. You stood with all your brothers and armies of lizards and beasts against the first tide of daemons threatening to consume your world. You discovered loss at this time as your brethren were slain until only one remained of the first spawning who had seen the world from the outside before stepping on it. You fought the Eidolons of the Primordial Annihilator, corrupt gods in their own right as they came to you in an endless wave of filth and impurity. You saw them face to face and forbade them access into the world. You, a part of you, first among those of the first spawning, lord of the first city ever raised on the world, you died to their claws but that was not the end. The Green Sun itself struck you down with his blade, splitting your mortal flesh in twain but you refused to die. Your spirit rose like a white cloud and you became more powerful than you could ever have imagined, mighty enough to banish the daemons from your home.
You refused to die. Whatever happened to your people, you refused to die and let go off the world. Daemons came in their hordes, then those of the elves who had forgot who you were, then the loathsome children of Yakeen Voidsinger and you didn't submit. Plague came and shrouded your cities in its embrae and you didn't submit. That caricature of a moon brought upon in the First Coming of Chaos was broken asunder and the fragments hurled to the world and your last act was to limit the devastation as well as you could. Even as you died in the flesh you refused to give in. You felt the world roll merilly from your grasp into the abyss but you willed yourself to endure, shielding your souls from the madness of Chaos and devouring those who wielded the power of the star into their beings. You saw your creation disappear in the Warp, like some imperfect sketch an artist throw into the fire and yet you didn't submit to oblivion's embrace or betrayed your oath to your departed masters. Your scream made this place and from the jaws of the Dark Gods you took the corpse of the world that was, happy in even this insignificant victory.
Your power crafted this place, this realm, so similar to the sights of your youth. A realm where distance is but a fleeting dream and one can step on stars to get to the next destination. A realm cold and uncaring you share with the storm who will destroy the enemies of creation. Something in your old, cold heart warned you about something when you realized that despite your powers, despite the vast expanses of stars, planets, and other celestial bodies produced by your magic you couldn't create life save for the ephemeral images of your troops. So you willingly went to sleep, letting your body be carried on the winds of space.
There was also another reason you went to sleep. In the World that Was you carried the old designs of your forgotten masters. You failed and now, for the first time in your life you are free. It is not something you are accustomed or even prepared for, so you decided to flee the realization by sleeping the sleep of the ages. Perhaps you would never wake and thus be spared the harsh decisions of independence. Alas it is not the case and you stir.
You sensed in your dreams the coming and goings of great many people filling the emptiness of space, some were born of your primeval scream, others, like you, ran from worlds long destroyed. There are gods and monsters and heroes who hunt across the stars and hate the scions of chaos as much as you do.
Where do you wake up?
[] Sun: You awake near the golden orb of a sun letting the golden light melt away the coffin of ice you were encased in. Near the burning stars you can see temples where priests with masks of gold offer thanks to the king of all kings.
[] Moon: You awake near the silvery orb of a bright moon letting the ice covering you disappear in the bright radiance. You look at the ever-shifting moon and see you are in a system of celestial bodies where the howl of wolves is loud enough to shake the very stars.
[] Stars: You break your cocoon in the sea of stars seeing old cities similar to yours. Humans skulk in the ruins offering thanks to the Morning Star and trying to divine the dictates of Fate. They are beset by demons and monsters and hide in great edifice of carved stone.
[] The World that Was: Your journeys brought you back to the old world shining in the darkness. You will feel perhaps sadness or shame looking to this errant orb but you also notice a storm is brewing near your position, burning with great power and waiting for the moment the clouds will be pierced lightning and the rain pours.
Also how do you feel?
[] Determined: Your problems came from the fact you didn't leash the younger races enough and they fell to the wiles of Chaos. Even before the Skavens were a problem your armies didn't leave Lustria. That should cease. You are the oldest foe of Chaos and will be respected as one.
[] Regretful: You failed the world entrusted in your care because you didn't cooperate enough with the younger races. Many of the horrors who befell the world could have been avoided if you communicated clearly with at least the elves. You are free now from the mandate of the Old Ones and you will try to change your ancient ways.
[] Vengeful: Chaos took everything from you. Your masters, your brothers, your people, your world. Looking back you didn't hurt them back nearly enough. No more. You are filled with a cold reptilian fury and you will harness it to great intent. Chaos will suffer. Its innumerable children will be cleansed in fire and with their corpses you will build monuments to the price of their insolence. Their gods will die and their taint will be expunged from all universes that ever was.
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Character Sheet: Lord Kroak of the Sublime Communion
ganonso
Compulsive Quest Starter
- Location
- PACA France
Character Sheet: Lord Kroak of the Sublime Communion
Diplomacy: 10+5+20: 35 You hear now the chorus of the allies you never had
Intrigue: 10-5+21: 26(45) Skulking in the shadows is unworthy of you and even mortals can beat you at this game.
Learning:10+5+5+5+18: 43 Your will is rooted in magic and not base flesh and bone
Martial: 10+5+23: 38 (40) You led the war against chaos and even if you lost it you are ready to take your revenge
Piety: 10+18: 28 Your gods are dead yet in their name you continue.
Stewardship: 10+5-5+23: 33 (53) To order, to constrain, to lead were you crafted long ago
Traits
Incarnate: To you has been bestowed one of the eleven crowns of existence, in time your power will eclipse all gods who were, are and will be. Begins with 10 in each stats and adds 6d5
Priest-Mage: The great communion was powerful in magic and war but contemplating the higher mysteries can leave one's blind to coarser reality. +5 Learning and Martial, -5 Intrigue and Stewardship
Star-Favored: You see in the midst of time and can say which seed will grow and which will wither. +5 Learning and Stewardship
Mantle of Regret: A new world means a new path. +5 Learning and Diplomacy
One and Many: You are Kroak yet you are also the Communion. Will divide in many Slaans to lead armies and do research.
Callings: Hunter, Judge, Sage
Purviews: Stars, Fortune
Diplomacy: 10+5+20: 35 You hear now the chorus of the allies you never had
Intrigue: 10-5+21: 26(45) Skulking in the shadows is unworthy of you and even mortals can beat you at this game.
Learning:10+5+5+5+18: 43 Your will is rooted in magic and not base flesh and bone
Martial: 10+5+23: 38 (40) You led the war against chaos and even if you lost it you are ready to take your revenge
Piety: 10+18: 28 Your gods are dead yet in their name you continue.
Stewardship: 10+5-5+23: 33 (53) To order, to constrain, to lead were you crafted long ago
Traits
Incarnate: To you has been bestowed one of the eleven crowns of existence, in time your power will eclipse all gods who were, are and will be. Begins with 10 in each stats and adds 6d5
Priest-Mage: The great communion was powerful in magic and war but contemplating the higher mysteries can leave one's blind to coarser reality. +5 Learning and Martial, -5 Intrigue and Stewardship
Star-Favored: You see in the midst of time and can say which seed will grow and which will wither. +5 Learning and Stewardship
Mantle of Regret: A new world means a new path. +5 Learning and Diplomacy
One and Many: You are Kroak yet you are also the Communion. Will divide in many Slaans to lead armies and do research.
Callings: Hunter, Judge, Sage
Purviews: Stars, Fortune
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Establishment
ganonso
Compulsive Quest Starter
- Location
- PACA France
Establishment
Long is your sleep unbroken by dawn's fierce radiance or even the fey light of some errant moon wandering the fields of stars. Long were you asleep, your body encased in ice and dust, brought to the place where the winds of time-space come to die. There where the light of suns is but a distant dream, your mind, consumed by thoughts of your failure to protect the lands of your birth and stewardship reached to the stones and molded it like clay. Great wanderers of rock were crushed together to form the pavement, great mountains were chiseled in many-stepped pyramids whose silent altars mock your former impotence. For yourself a great temple was built high above a hole in the center of the city, a fitting tomb for your torpid body, filled with the statues of all you failed. The city is not dark, for your mind grasped a star and made it fall, filling great rivers and pools with blue-white fire. Some would call your home beautiful but a beautiful ruin. For the stone holds nothing alive except perhaps you who knows stir from endless sleep. Unbroken was the sleep who followed your departure from the husk of the World That Was. Unbroken and yet not dreamless.
For behind your closed eyes your gaze focused inwards, always inwards, following the road of memories. Your whole existence, your whole stewardship was examined, as were the lives of those you devoured in your frantic escape. You sought the mistakes you made and how you could have acted otherwise. In retrospective some faults are obvious. When you shook down the pillars of the earth and sundered the kingdoms of the Dwarves, you caused many of their strongholds to fall, either to the Orcs or the Skavens, and thus weakened defenders of order. You took no confident and even the High Elves of Ulthuan or their cousins in the woods did not know on what their power was built. What warm-blooded souls are now in you speak without speaking on how you could have bribed, cajoled, impressed the younger races. The innumerable rats could have been slain by grand rites and your formidable powers coordinated with other wizards and armies. Your sauruses cohorts could have walked the ether to the wastes and brought battle on dreaded Archaon while you tried to banish his daemonic allies. So much waste, so many failures, many brought by the limitations of your form. But as the ice thaws and splinters, you swear this will be no more.
You have changed and yet remained the same. While you were alive you were in communion with your brother but now, now you are of one mind and one body, clad in power and wreathed in might. You are a paradox given flesh both bloated and skeletal, your diaphanous flesh invisible in the night of Azyr but your bandaged bones glimmering in silver starlight. Your bulk is increased by the numerous talismans, jewels and baubles you wear, each an amulet imbued with starry power. On your frog head you feel the familiar weight of a mask of sun gold. Your throne of power also shines with magic, ready to be used. You are majestic yet not beautiful, but then you never had much use for beauty.
Your wakened mind is so vast it is painful. Your attention barely scratches your surroundings to expand far beyond your body, through black gulfs and comet-swept wilderness. You see the stars and the great patterns they paint across the heavens. You see the stars aligned as the crown of your awakening and you wonder who wrote their silent speech. In your old life, you knew or thought you knew who first wove fate and ordered time to go forth and flow. Now you are not sure of what you read for the stars speak of change, of freedom given and new chances granted. The spheres sing in gracious music about free-will and potentials and the joys of an unpredictable universe. Worry creeps a moment in your old mind for you know these words to be those of the Changer of Ways and with them he ensnared many of the younger races. Yet to your surprise hope doesn't seem to be a complete illusion here. The worlds are still young and their end is still unwritten. So you force your perceptions back to your body, struggling to keep your dead eyes focused on the here and now.
And as a symbol on how things have changed, your will slams the great temple who sheltered your body in the hole at the center of the city of your dreams. No longer will you preside, uncaring to all, blind to what happens on the ground. This place will serve, even as wind blows through broken statues making them weep tears of starlight. First you will attend to the center. What will your will bring to fruition?
[] A gate to the webway, to the realm in-between who like a tree links all realms together. This gate is most attuned to the Realms of Beasts and on the great arch are inscribed patterns representing your erstwhile servants, skinks and sauruses.
[] A great temple dedicated to a dead pantheon. While your masters are not present in this sphere, you know the nature of gods and you know you can remake them with their purviews, as guides and weapons for your growing might.
[] A great pool where in time will surge new Slanns. What your masters never established on the world that was you will set in stone, for it is not good for you to be alone.
Then how will you divide the city? How will you divide your own focus?
[] Three: Sun, Star and Moon the luminaries of existence
[] Four: The Pillar of the universe, the four elements, the sign of stability
[] Five: The Pyramid, four to hold to the universe and one to see beyond
[] Six: The Four Elements and Light and Darkness in balance and joy
[] Seven: the Outcast and the prime
[] Eight: The Wheel of Magic
Long is your sleep unbroken by dawn's fierce radiance or even the fey light of some errant moon wandering the fields of stars. Long were you asleep, your body encased in ice and dust, brought to the place where the winds of time-space come to die. There where the light of suns is but a distant dream, your mind, consumed by thoughts of your failure to protect the lands of your birth and stewardship reached to the stones and molded it like clay. Great wanderers of rock were crushed together to form the pavement, great mountains were chiseled in many-stepped pyramids whose silent altars mock your former impotence. For yourself a great temple was built high above a hole in the center of the city, a fitting tomb for your torpid body, filled with the statues of all you failed. The city is not dark, for your mind grasped a star and made it fall, filling great rivers and pools with blue-white fire. Some would call your home beautiful but a beautiful ruin. For the stone holds nothing alive except perhaps you who knows stir from endless sleep. Unbroken was the sleep who followed your departure from the husk of the World That Was. Unbroken and yet not dreamless.
For behind your closed eyes your gaze focused inwards, always inwards, following the road of memories. Your whole existence, your whole stewardship was examined, as were the lives of those you devoured in your frantic escape. You sought the mistakes you made and how you could have acted otherwise. In retrospective some faults are obvious. When you shook down the pillars of the earth and sundered the kingdoms of the Dwarves, you caused many of their strongholds to fall, either to the Orcs or the Skavens, and thus weakened defenders of order. You took no confident and even the High Elves of Ulthuan or their cousins in the woods did not know on what their power was built. What warm-blooded souls are now in you speak without speaking on how you could have bribed, cajoled, impressed the younger races. The innumerable rats could have been slain by grand rites and your formidable powers coordinated with other wizards and armies. Your sauruses cohorts could have walked the ether to the wastes and brought battle on dreaded Archaon while you tried to banish his daemonic allies. So much waste, so many failures, many brought by the limitations of your form. But as the ice thaws and splinters, you swear this will be no more.
You have changed and yet remained the same. While you were alive you were in communion with your brother but now, now you are of one mind and one body, clad in power and wreathed in might. You are a paradox given flesh both bloated and skeletal, your diaphanous flesh invisible in the night of Azyr but your bandaged bones glimmering in silver starlight. Your bulk is increased by the numerous talismans, jewels and baubles you wear, each an amulet imbued with starry power. On your frog head you feel the familiar weight of a mask of sun gold. Your throne of power also shines with magic, ready to be used. You are majestic yet not beautiful, but then you never had much use for beauty.
Your wakened mind is so vast it is painful. Your attention barely scratches your surroundings to expand far beyond your body, through black gulfs and comet-swept wilderness. You see the stars and the great patterns they paint across the heavens. You see the stars aligned as the crown of your awakening and you wonder who wrote their silent speech. In your old life, you knew or thought you knew who first wove fate and ordered time to go forth and flow. Now you are not sure of what you read for the stars speak of change, of freedom given and new chances granted. The spheres sing in gracious music about free-will and potentials and the joys of an unpredictable universe. Worry creeps a moment in your old mind for you know these words to be those of the Changer of Ways and with them he ensnared many of the younger races. Yet to your surprise hope doesn't seem to be a complete illusion here. The worlds are still young and their end is still unwritten. So you force your perceptions back to your body, struggling to keep your dead eyes focused on the here and now.
And as a symbol on how things have changed, your will slams the great temple who sheltered your body in the hole at the center of the city of your dreams. No longer will you preside, uncaring to all, blind to what happens on the ground. This place will serve, even as wind blows through broken statues making them weep tears of starlight. First you will attend to the center. What will your will bring to fruition?
[] A gate to the webway, to the realm in-between who like a tree links all realms together. This gate is most attuned to the Realms of Beasts and on the great arch are inscribed patterns representing your erstwhile servants, skinks and sauruses.
[] A great temple dedicated to a dead pantheon. While your masters are not present in this sphere, you know the nature of gods and you know you can remake them with their purviews, as guides and weapons for your growing might.
[] A great pool where in time will surge new Slanns. What your masters never established on the world that was you will set in stone, for it is not good for you to be alone.
Then how will you divide the city? How will you divide your own focus?
[] Three: Sun, Star and Moon the luminaries of existence
[] Four: The Pillar of the universe, the four elements, the sign of stability
[] Five: The Pyramid, four to hold to the universe and one to see beyond
[] Six: The Four Elements and Light and Darkness in balance and joy
[] Seven: the Outcast and the prime
[] Eight: The Wheel of Magic
Last edited:
Turn 1
ganonso
Compulsive Quest Starter
- Location
- PACA France
Turn 1
You divide and it's not painful. You are one yet and many, one perspective embodied by dozens of bodies and yet you understand things won't be as in the world that was. There you wielded magic in almost all its forms, avoiding only the taint of Chaos. Even death and shadows were at your command and you used them in the great tapestry of your spells. Your gracile fingers tugged at disparate strands of the great ocean and wielded them together in a new melody greater than the sum of its parts. Now that's not the case. The only Wind you sense here, the only magic that suffuses this new realm is the Wind of Heavens. Some would have despaired of this but you were master of magic. You are able to do with one wind some of what you could do with eights. You wonder a moment if this is due to your own mastery over the ether or if it comes from the fact Azyr is the only source of magic in this strange world. Magic has always answered need after all.
But there is no time for such thoughts, the world is vast and even the might of the sublime communion is weak to explore all its turns.
Explorations 1
South: To the south, you hear the rumble of a great river but as you focus your mind' eyes you see not water but starlight flowing through a city you feel you should remember. There are pyramids, mountains hewed by human hands for the dead who remain as stars and palaces and gardens for the living. They wield weapons and armor of light but you feel it is a people given to art and magic and artists and philosophers shuffle as restless stars as they are struck by inspiration. In the middle you see a high lady with the signs of godhood. She is sharp as a knife and a great hound with coat of night.
West: There are ruins to the west, ruins and huddled community but a prosperous one nonetheless. There are clothed in feathers and jade and their buildings look like yours in a fashion. They are men, skin adorned with patterns of starlight with weapons of obsidian and coat of feathers. Some have the skin of jaguar, others the feathers of eagles. Their altars stand bloodless for they offer only incense and butterflies to their master. You see him like a man but also like a great serpent with feathers and wings, on his brow stands the crown of morning and he is a great magician
North: There are hunting grounds in the north filled with monstrous serpent with feathered wings. Hunting them is one of their kin, a great muscle-bound warrior whose eyes see all. His prey is reborn each time they are slain but he is still a god with godly powers and godly ambitions. He fights often with his mother who keeps women with shirts of snakes thirsty for the blood of mortals and obsidian butterflies beautiful as they are deadly.
East: To the east you see high ziggurats staring at the heavens. There is a great harbor where ships who now sail the sea of stars leave for other cities and other kingdoms and come back rich with trade. Elephants with glistening fangs and men with horned helmets. Here is a proud land and its mortal queen stands as someone who died of love and rose back again. The goddess who rules here is clothed in a bright mantle but she bears spear for love is close to war like two brothers are close. She is wild but has fought death before and Chaos and the foes of all life.
Nadir: Down the tri-dimensional space of the realm you see a place whose pull is so powerful it defines the "down" direction for at least your section of the realm. It is a city of marble with columns and statues white as moon. Here live giants whose skin is alabaster and eyes bright as night. In great pools of darkness appear vision of what was, what is and what will be. The god who resides here was once a son of the very heavens but he warred against his father and his nephew before fleeing there. Always was he a lord of stars and his wife besides him shines with her own terrible radiance.
Zenith: High, high in the sky you see a palace, a complex city of red whose spear-point defenses leaves no choice but to enter the gate guarded by lions. In the hallways and the room you see dazzling displays of wealth, elegance and culture. Everyone here is fair and gifted in at least one way, participating of the star own radiance. The master of the place is a youth beautiful as the lonely star which he keeps and you see him play languidly a lute making people of starfire dance and dance at his bidding.
You divide and it's not painful. You are one yet and many, one perspective embodied by dozens of bodies and yet you understand things won't be as in the world that was. There you wielded magic in almost all its forms, avoiding only the taint of Chaos. Even death and shadows were at your command and you used them in the great tapestry of your spells. Your gracile fingers tugged at disparate strands of the great ocean and wielded them together in a new melody greater than the sum of its parts. Now that's not the case. The only Wind you sense here, the only magic that suffuses this new realm is the Wind of Heavens. Some would have despaired of this but you were master of magic. You are able to do with one wind some of what you could do with eights. You wonder a moment if this is due to your own mastery over the ether or if it comes from the fact Azyr is the only source of magic in this strange world. Magic has always answered need after all.
But there is no time for such thoughts, the world is vast and even the might of the sublime communion is weak to explore all its turns.
Explorations 1
South: To the south, you hear the rumble of a great river but as you focus your mind' eyes you see not water but starlight flowing through a city you feel you should remember. There are pyramids, mountains hewed by human hands for the dead who remain as stars and palaces and gardens for the living. They wield weapons and armor of light but you feel it is a people given to art and magic and artists and philosophers shuffle as restless stars as they are struck by inspiration. In the middle you see a high lady with the signs of godhood. She is sharp as a knife and a great hound with coat of night.
West: There are ruins to the west, ruins and huddled community but a prosperous one nonetheless. There are clothed in feathers and jade and their buildings look like yours in a fashion. They are men, skin adorned with patterns of starlight with weapons of obsidian and coat of feathers. Some have the skin of jaguar, others the feathers of eagles. Their altars stand bloodless for they offer only incense and butterflies to their master. You see him like a man but also like a great serpent with feathers and wings, on his brow stands the crown of morning and he is a great magician
North: There are hunting grounds in the north filled with monstrous serpent with feathered wings. Hunting them is one of their kin, a great muscle-bound warrior whose eyes see all. His prey is reborn each time they are slain but he is still a god with godly powers and godly ambitions. He fights often with his mother who keeps women with shirts of snakes thirsty for the blood of mortals and obsidian butterflies beautiful as they are deadly.
East: To the east you see high ziggurats staring at the heavens. There is a great harbor where ships who now sail the sea of stars leave for other cities and other kingdoms and come back rich with trade. Elephants with glistening fangs and men with horned helmets. Here is a proud land and its mortal queen stands as someone who died of love and rose back again. The goddess who rules here is clothed in a bright mantle but she bears spear for love is close to war like two brothers are close. She is wild but has fought death before and Chaos and the foes of all life.
Nadir: Down the tri-dimensional space of the realm you see a place whose pull is so powerful it defines the "down" direction for at least your section of the realm. It is a city of marble with columns and statues white as moon. Here live giants whose skin is alabaster and eyes bright as night. In great pools of darkness appear vision of what was, what is and what will be. The god who resides here was once a son of the very heavens but he warred against his father and his nephew before fleeing there. Always was he a lord of stars and his wife besides him shines with her own terrible radiance.
Zenith: High, high in the sky you see a palace, a complex city of red whose spear-point defenses leaves no choice but to enter the gate guarded by lions. In the hallways and the room you see dazzling displays of wealth, elegance and culture. Everyone here is fair and gifted in at least one way, participating of the star own radiance. The master of the place is a youth beautiful as the lonely star which he keeps and you see him play languidly a lute making people of starfire dance and dance at his bidding.
The Queen of Heavens part 1
ganonso
Compulsive Quest Starter
- Location
- PACA France
The Queen of Heavens part 1
You don't know how to describe the process. You fly on the cosmic winds at speed unthinkable but still maintain the regal stature of your palanquin. You make a gesture of your long skeletal fingers and reality opens and space folds to make your way. Perhaps it is both and neither for in this place space seems to be strangely arrayed and its paths are wondrous to wander. At first you don't understand the rules and are dismayed but little by little you understand. Despite its resemblance to the starry vault, Azyr is still a place of magic and thus plays by its own rules. Distances are determined here in part by the closeness of minds and the links between concepts. For you who stood distant from all things, it is a long journey full of wonders when you see stars of red, blue and even green light great and desolate worlds who seem to have been sculpted by the elements as surely as any mortal craftsman. You see planets linked together with bridges of lightning and rainbows, hear the baying of wolves hunting fleeing asters and wandering comets and even spy great tentacled things swimming peacefully in this ocean and dreaming silvery dreams. Then you see it as your visions shown you.
There are great ziggurats in the distance, great temples vast as human cities. Life grows from them, gardens full of all sorts of trees and flowers and beautiful to behold even to your cold mind. You see priests in white robes, hairless as babes, sing and mourn for something you don't understand. Their tears and their blood water the trees and make the crops grow from the light of the star and the stones of the sanctuaries. Merchants there are and many craftsman and they rejoice in the counting of their riches and the might of their armies. Just like they did as they were mortals they launch ships from their harbor but now their vessels of silver and steel ply the sea of stars bringing back tribute, and trade from distant lands and kingdoms who rose again from their world's destruction. Not for the first time you wonder how many worlds did Chaos defile? How many mighty as gods like you were cast adrift in the mists of time and space to find there a refuge to prepare the riposte?
You would know that, and you would know this city and its proud merchants. You would know their customs and their battles. Curiosity stings your heart like never before for those mortals were never your charges and you wonder what it would mean to have allies and not servant.
Your presence is felt and something leaves the city to intercept you, stopping you in mid-flight. Not the mortal leader of the city, the queen you saw rise through the pyre of her love and made herself whole again. No the presence is divine like you and images come at the forefront of your mind as she manifests to defend her home.
You know of gender even if it's a concept who doesn't concern you as you were born from the muck of sacred pools just like your servants. It didn't seem to apply to the Old Ones or perhaps did they judge not useful to imbue you with the knowledge of their identities. Yet the presence you feel is indeniably feminine and perhaps it is the source of your fear.
Once there was a goddess know by many names in many tongues in a now long destroyed world. She had lovers aplenty but her husband was a god of life, of growing things and sheep who give birth in blood. Perhaps he had also authority on the storm and was king of these gods but you are not sure. He died and she went to the Underworld to save him, leaving all ornaments and all clothing at the gates of the house of the dead. She fought and she pleaded but the owls nesting at the nadir of all things had their way. For half the year would her lover be at her side in life and joy and for the second half he would descend with nearly all growing things in the realm of the dead and here abide. Bitterly she cries now for in their exile her love has fallen to the Realm of Life and he shares his time between there and the Realm of Death.
Azyr has no spring for Dubuzki to rejoin Astarte, at least not yet, so her priests mourn with her and their tears make life possible in this realm of light.
She appears before you and you feel no desire yet find her fair beyond compare for so is the power of her body. She is strong, her locks black like three nights combined and twelve gems shine like stars in this dark crown. Her flesh is the color of the sun, rich with life and the promise of many children and yet she is strong and armored and has the feet of a lion. Wings she has like a great swam and they are ready to engulf you. She holds in her hand a spear most terrible and you see in her black eyes she has fought the forces of Chaos like you and has spilled many a Neverborn's ichor on the flagstones before fleeing before the final annihilation.
You feel the depths of her mind and it feels you with terror. Love, hate, grief, desire. All things you don't really understand and she is like an ocean of feelings ready to drown you in her abysses. Wild and frightening for you know that even if you tried this one kneels before no master and is mistress of her own lusts.
Her voice thunders in your mind: "Who are you and why do you intrude on my sorrow?"
What do you answer?
[] I am one who knows of grief like you, exiled in a strange land
[] I am a foe of Chaos, defeated like you and biding his time for the next battle
[] I am one who knows defeat but has chosen to build anew here
You don't know how to describe the process. You fly on the cosmic winds at speed unthinkable but still maintain the regal stature of your palanquin. You make a gesture of your long skeletal fingers and reality opens and space folds to make your way. Perhaps it is both and neither for in this place space seems to be strangely arrayed and its paths are wondrous to wander. At first you don't understand the rules and are dismayed but little by little you understand. Despite its resemblance to the starry vault, Azyr is still a place of magic and thus plays by its own rules. Distances are determined here in part by the closeness of minds and the links between concepts. For you who stood distant from all things, it is a long journey full of wonders when you see stars of red, blue and even green light great and desolate worlds who seem to have been sculpted by the elements as surely as any mortal craftsman. You see planets linked together with bridges of lightning and rainbows, hear the baying of wolves hunting fleeing asters and wandering comets and even spy great tentacled things swimming peacefully in this ocean and dreaming silvery dreams. Then you see it as your visions shown you.
There are great ziggurats in the distance, great temples vast as human cities. Life grows from them, gardens full of all sorts of trees and flowers and beautiful to behold even to your cold mind. You see priests in white robes, hairless as babes, sing and mourn for something you don't understand. Their tears and their blood water the trees and make the crops grow from the light of the star and the stones of the sanctuaries. Merchants there are and many craftsman and they rejoice in the counting of their riches and the might of their armies. Just like they did as they were mortals they launch ships from their harbor but now their vessels of silver and steel ply the sea of stars bringing back tribute, and trade from distant lands and kingdoms who rose again from their world's destruction. Not for the first time you wonder how many worlds did Chaos defile? How many mighty as gods like you were cast adrift in the mists of time and space to find there a refuge to prepare the riposte?
You would know that, and you would know this city and its proud merchants. You would know their customs and their battles. Curiosity stings your heart like never before for those mortals were never your charges and you wonder what it would mean to have allies and not servant.
Your presence is felt and something leaves the city to intercept you, stopping you in mid-flight. Not the mortal leader of the city, the queen you saw rise through the pyre of her love and made herself whole again. No the presence is divine like you and images come at the forefront of your mind as she manifests to defend her home.
You know of gender even if it's a concept who doesn't concern you as you were born from the muck of sacred pools just like your servants. It didn't seem to apply to the Old Ones or perhaps did they judge not useful to imbue you with the knowledge of their identities. Yet the presence you feel is indeniably feminine and perhaps it is the source of your fear.
Once there was a goddess know by many names in many tongues in a now long destroyed world. She had lovers aplenty but her husband was a god of life, of growing things and sheep who give birth in blood. Perhaps he had also authority on the storm and was king of these gods but you are not sure. He died and she went to the Underworld to save him, leaving all ornaments and all clothing at the gates of the house of the dead. She fought and she pleaded but the owls nesting at the nadir of all things had their way. For half the year would her lover be at her side in life and joy and for the second half he would descend with nearly all growing things in the realm of the dead and here abide. Bitterly she cries now for in their exile her love has fallen to the Realm of Life and he shares his time between there and the Realm of Death.
Azyr has no spring for Dubuzki to rejoin Astarte, at least not yet, so her priests mourn with her and their tears make life possible in this realm of light.
She appears before you and you feel no desire yet find her fair beyond compare for so is the power of her body. She is strong, her locks black like three nights combined and twelve gems shine like stars in this dark crown. Her flesh is the color of the sun, rich with life and the promise of many children and yet she is strong and armored and has the feet of a lion. Wings she has like a great swam and they are ready to engulf you. She holds in her hand a spear most terrible and you see in her black eyes she has fought the forces of Chaos like you and has spilled many a Neverborn's ichor on the flagstones before fleeing before the final annihilation.
You feel the depths of her mind and it feels you with terror. Love, hate, grief, desire. All things you don't really understand and she is like an ocean of feelings ready to drown you in her abysses. Wild and frightening for you know that even if you tried this one kneels before no master and is mistress of her own lusts.
Her voice thunders in your mind: "Who are you and why do you intrude on my sorrow?"
What do you answer?
[] I am one who knows of grief like you, exiled in a strange land
[] I am a foe of Chaos, defeated like you and biding his time for the next battle
[] I am one who knows defeat but has chosen to build anew here
Critical Vote
ganonso
Compulsive Quest Starter
- Location
- PACA France
You rolled a 100 on the Diplomacy roll. Choose 1
[] Sacred Marriage: You will unite with Astarte at the manner of her people and gain from such coupling knowledge you do not possess. Even if you do not mate in the manner of the other races Astarte can bear children even from the genderless.
[] Crown of Stars: As a sign of friendship the goddess gives you a star to serve as your diadem, enhancing further your mastery of the starry expanses. It will make you even more yourself and wreathe the warriors you summon in silver flame.
[] Sacred Marriage: You will unite with Astarte at the manner of her people and gain from such coupling knowledge you do not possess. Even if you do not mate in the manner of the other races Astarte can bear children even from the genderless.
[] Crown of Stars: As a sign of friendship the goddess gives you a star to serve as your diadem, enhancing further your mastery of the starry expanses. It will make you even more yourself and wreathe the warriors you summon in silver flame.
The Queen of Heaven: part 2: Sacred Marriage
ganonso
Compulsive Quest Starter
- Location
- PACA France
The Queen of Heaven: part 2: Sacred Marriage
"I am one who knows defeat and has chosen to build anew here"
This is true. It could not be otherwise for in a place like this there are no lies possible and such things were not in your habit while you were alive. You have known defeat, a long defeat spanning ages uncounted until your final demise. You have known of shrinking, fading away and retreating to ever tighter locked ranks. You have known the death of knowledge as many things were left unused and even your prodigious memories failed to fathom their original use. You have seen through the eyes of your servants the dead piled up like mountains and even your august flesh being flensed alive and eaten by hordes of chittering rats. In the end your great temples took to the sky but even then it was a final defeat from which you couldn't recover. Yet you have vowed to change and youth has been granted to you. You will expand and grow strong and accomplish whatever you desire. Such is your will rooted in stars and moon and sun. And such a will and a declaration impress Astarte even as she finds you deprived of everything she has.
Her wings engulf you and cold leaves your bones for a moment as you are taken by cotonous warmth. Her tears flow on your mummified flesh and where the starlight fall, you sense the deadened skin take the colors of life anew. If you were mortal she could give you life anew but you realize that your dead image is a symbol for what you are now and that can't change. Yet you sense many years of pain and many centuries of rot falling from your face and what seemed like the corpse of a sundered world now looks like stone and marble and ivory who while dead and unmoving have their own majesty. You see her and desire her even as you never desired, for such is the power of Astarte who in her world was set to protect love and passion. Yet you do not mate with her at the manner of the younger races but your mind dive into the oceans of her being, almost drowning but relishing the experience.
You never were a being of movement. You and the others of the Sun Departed little less than the others. You remained eyes fixed inwards, gazing upon the waves of the aether and despising flesh and bone. Were you not yourself the proof the flesh was just the plaything of the eternal spirit? You never were a being of movement but you are engulfed in waves, your palanquin shaken by the winds and falling in circles. The touch of the Goddess burns and hurts only because you denied her purview so long. Yet you were created with feelings. Without them you couldn't make decisions and the Old Ones could have created images of living stone to serve them better. She coaxes them out of you and makes you examine your life with new eyes.
Who ever said Love is only rooted in flesh. Astarte who was Love and War and the Morningstar teaches you that desire and mating can also be actions of the mind and that everyone holds chaos.
You loved the world and the mandate you were given. You loved molding its surface, raising mountains and hollowing seas and sets the winds in order and the paths water takes from sea to sky to land and sea again. You loved your cities built by magic and hard work, block upon block gathered in ages uncounted. Even war you realize you loved, at least some of your number did. You remember when the greenskins fell on the world riding meteors and how they changed even as you warred upon them until they were plants no longer but animals who needed to be conceived and born in blood. You remember the muted calls of your heart as you slew demons and beasts when the portals fell.
You believed once the only feelings there was were sadness who breaks the heart, fear of tomorrow and the unknown and slow burning wrath for those who despoiled the lands of your stewardship. Yet now that you dive not only in your own memories but also those of the wielders of the Wind of Heavens you see offered cups and granted thanks, victories who were fair even if they didn't matter in the end. You understand why the other races, even your servants lied and loved and did everything they did. Yet one emotion governs it all
[] Desire
[] Regret
[] Fear
[] Wrath
[] Compassion
[] Hope
But from the mélange of your two egos, the memories of a family you never had, of great cities you never saw and people you never ruled come children. From what do you create them, Warm sunlight shining like gold, born and dying in blood at each rising and setting? Moonlight changing and shifting, deep as a silver ocean and yet eternal in her silver glory? Starlight cold and harsh and yet centering the universe? Or even what lay between light, fecund darkness, the ocean from which all sprang and all returns.
[] Sunlight
[] Moonlight
[] Starlight
[] Darkness
"I am one who knows defeat and has chosen to build anew here"
This is true. It could not be otherwise for in a place like this there are no lies possible and such things were not in your habit while you were alive. You have known defeat, a long defeat spanning ages uncounted until your final demise. You have known of shrinking, fading away and retreating to ever tighter locked ranks. You have known the death of knowledge as many things were left unused and even your prodigious memories failed to fathom their original use. You have seen through the eyes of your servants the dead piled up like mountains and even your august flesh being flensed alive and eaten by hordes of chittering rats. In the end your great temples took to the sky but even then it was a final defeat from which you couldn't recover. Yet you have vowed to change and youth has been granted to you. You will expand and grow strong and accomplish whatever you desire. Such is your will rooted in stars and moon and sun. And such a will and a declaration impress Astarte even as she finds you deprived of everything she has.
Her wings engulf you and cold leaves your bones for a moment as you are taken by cotonous warmth. Her tears flow on your mummified flesh and where the starlight fall, you sense the deadened skin take the colors of life anew. If you were mortal she could give you life anew but you realize that your dead image is a symbol for what you are now and that can't change. Yet you sense many years of pain and many centuries of rot falling from your face and what seemed like the corpse of a sundered world now looks like stone and marble and ivory who while dead and unmoving have their own majesty. You see her and desire her even as you never desired, for such is the power of Astarte who in her world was set to protect love and passion. Yet you do not mate with her at the manner of the younger races but your mind dive into the oceans of her being, almost drowning but relishing the experience.
You never were a being of movement. You and the others of the Sun Departed little less than the others. You remained eyes fixed inwards, gazing upon the waves of the aether and despising flesh and bone. Were you not yourself the proof the flesh was just the plaything of the eternal spirit? You never were a being of movement but you are engulfed in waves, your palanquin shaken by the winds and falling in circles. The touch of the Goddess burns and hurts only because you denied her purview so long. Yet you were created with feelings. Without them you couldn't make decisions and the Old Ones could have created images of living stone to serve them better. She coaxes them out of you and makes you examine your life with new eyes.
Who ever said Love is only rooted in flesh. Astarte who was Love and War and the Morningstar teaches you that desire and mating can also be actions of the mind and that everyone holds chaos.
You loved the world and the mandate you were given. You loved molding its surface, raising mountains and hollowing seas and sets the winds in order and the paths water takes from sea to sky to land and sea again. You loved your cities built by magic and hard work, block upon block gathered in ages uncounted. Even war you realize you loved, at least some of your number did. You remember when the greenskins fell on the world riding meteors and how they changed even as you warred upon them until they were plants no longer but animals who needed to be conceived and born in blood. You remember the muted calls of your heart as you slew demons and beasts when the portals fell.
You believed once the only feelings there was were sadness who breaks the heart, fear of tomorrow and the unknown and slow burning wrath for those who despoiled the lands of your stewardship. Yet now that you dive not only in your own memories but also those of the wielders of the Wind of Heavens you see offered cups and granted thanks, victories who were fair even if they didn't matter in the end. You understand why the other races, even your servants lied and loved and did everything they did. Yet one emotion governs it all
[] Desire
[] Regret
[] Fear
[] Wrath
[] Compassion
[] Hope
But from the mélange of your two egos, the memories of a family you never had, of great cities you never saw and people you never ruled come children. From what do you create them, Warm sunlight shining like gold, born and dying in blood at each rising and setting? Moonlight changing and shifting, deep as a silver ocean and yet eternal in her silver glory? Starlight cold and harsh and yet centering the universe? Or even what lay between light, fecund darkness, the ocean from which all sprang and all returns.
[] Sunlight
[] Moonlight
[] Starlight
[] Darkness
Sacton the Mute
ganonso
Compulsive Quest Starter
- Location
- PACA France
Sacton the Mute
Diplomacy: 10+ 17+5: 31 You are born with a powerful voice
Intrigue: 10+18: 28 You eyes are keener than your parent but not by much
Learning: 10+21+ 5: 36 You sprang all armed from the belly of Ishtar
Martial: 10+ 17 +5: 31: Both your parents know war and you understand it
Piety: 10+21+5: 36: Born in Azyr, born from Azyr, hungering for the destruction of Chaos
Stewardship: 10+20+5+5: 40 A god can bring life to even lifeless stone
Traits
God: You are the offspring of two gods of the stars and you are of their august company: base stats are 10+6d5
A Sign of Hope: Even crippled you were born from your parent's hope in a better tomorrow: +5 Diplomacy and Piety
Mantle of Stars: You see in the midst of time and can say which seed will grow and which will wither. +5 Learning and Stewardship
Orderer of Chaos: In you are mixed the two forces at the origin of creation, cold order and wild chaos, yet you are an orderer first and foremost: +5 Martial and Stewardship
Callings: Sage (Godly 1/3), Lover (Godly 1/3), Creator (Godly 1/3)
Purviews Stars, Forge (9/12), Earth (9/12), Chaos (9/12)
Assumption: The Crown
Legend 12
Diplomacy: 10+ 17+5: 31 You are born with a powerful voice
Intrigue: 10+18: 28 You eyes are keener than your parent but not by much
Learning: 10+21+ 5: 36 You sprang all armed from the belly of Ishtar
Martial: 10+ 17 +5: 31: Both your parents know war and you understand it
Piety: 10+21+5: 36: Born in Azyr, born from Azyr, hungering for the destruction of Chaos
Stewardship: 10+20+5+5: 40 A god can bring life to even lifeless stone
Traits
God: You are the offspring of two gods of the stars and you are of their august company: base stats are 10+6d5
A Sign of Hope: Even crippled you were born from your parent's hope in a better tomorrow: +5 Diplomacy and Piety
Mantle of Stars: You see in the midst of time and can say which seed will grow and which will wither. +5 Learning and Stewardship
Orderer of Chaos: In you are mixed the two forces at the origin of creation, cold order and wild chaos, yet you are an orderer first and foremost: +5 Martial and Stewardship
Callings: Sage (Godly 1/3), Lover (Godly 1/3), Creator (Godly 1/3)
Purviews Stars, Forge (9/12), Earth (9/12), Chaos (9/12)
Assumption: The Crown
Legend 12
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