In the Hall of Gods, Olympus. Kilgarrah was the first to arrive on his throne, and had invited all of the other gods for a meeting before their initial embark onto the world again. He sat there, in his massive draconic glory, however his size was fitted so that while he still towered over the angels that began serving him massive plates of food, he wasn't much bigger then the other gods that would be arriving, nor was he too big for his throne. The other three thrones of the primals are of the same size, each one bearing a color of their respective owner. Green, Red, Blue, and Yellow. The rest of the chairs sitting along and at the end of the massive chair were smaller, but still large for the massive gods, and were outlined in gold, with the inner fabric detailed to their customed domain.

At his side, Bahamut, his most trusted primeval, Sat perched like a Dog in front of his throne, allowing his child to consume much of the massive slabs of meat the angels had to deliver in a massive group. Kilgarrah's tail slithered around the back of his chair, his two front feet were relaxed and resembled more so of arms in his post. The time was ripe for the gods to return to the world, but he had to make sure that all was in order as in hopes to prevent more drama from starting. There was much to discuss after all.

Each of the many gods were given a letter from an angel in their own private realms for the meeting, and were informed that if they refused to go to the meeting they were not allowed to return to the earth.

Out in the open of the god-occupied realm, was a vast clearing of water, sinking down into a opaque blackness. It was known officially as Nahargu’ul’s Reef, though some other deities had plenty of their own joking names for it. In the past, Nahargu’ul had chastised them for it, but now… he’s just grown indifferent to the practice. There he lounges most of his time, down in the dark, surrounded by a collection of his favored merfolk, whom he elevated to his own realm for their accomplishments on the mortal coil. The Sea-Fiend was rested on a curved stretch of bedrock, six red eyes close to shut. Around him lounged too his eyeless, sharp-toothed subjects. They, and the water around them, were all calm, collected, and silent.

Until one merman dropped into the water from above, swimming down towards Nahargu’u, with a rolled letter in hand, given to him by an angel from above. Of course, the letter itself did not succumb to the water’s effect - it was not its writer’s will to let that happen. Nahargu’ul perked his eyes upward as the merman neared him. No words were exchanged - he simply held out his hand, taking the letter in his slate blue fingers. He unrolled it, gave it a good once over, and sighed. The merfolk watched as he let the letter drift away, and swam up to the surface of the water.

In the land of the gods, anything that wasn’t one specific deity’s territory was neutral ground, which allowed Nahargu’ul to traverse it. As he breached the waterline, he pulled himself onto the ground, whereupon two of the tentacles that comprised his lower half shifted into a pair of human-esque legs, encrusted with the same eroded chitin on most of his body. The rest of his tentacles dragged behind him, somewhat like a longcoat.

He made his way forward, towards the Hall of Gods.

---

Yigzavath’s Lair was all the same dull as Nahargu’ul’s Reef, though not quite as silent. All throughout its web-covered caverns, one could hear the skittering of one or many horrible creatures in the distance, clicking sounds, and other generally unnerving audios. It was here that, every equivalent to a day, Yigzavath toiled - jotting down ideas, drawing unsightly designs on weathered parchments, and so on. As he was deprived of the world in which he once set his creations to roam, all he could do now was prepare for the day he returned.

And that day had finally come.

An angel walked through the Lair, unimpeded but still observed by the many creatures inhabiting it. They came upon the central chamber, where before an open chasm, Yigzavath lurched over a table carved out of a stone slab. And in the open before him, petrified and preserved species were hung up by massive webs, spun by some sizable arachnid. As the angel approached, Yigzavath ceased his writing, and turned towards them.

"What. Is it." He said, in a sinister, somewhat irritated tone.

“A summons for you, Filthmonger.” The angel replied, lightly bowing their head and holding the letter outward. Yigzavath grabbed it, unrolled it, and read it. His calm composure slowly turned into an unsettling rage, as he clicked and groaned. He suddenly tossed the letter aside, brushing past the angel, making his way towards the exit from his Lair. The angel followed a distance behind, darting their eyes occasionally, on the lookout for any creatures.

---

They both arrived in short time, almost simultaneously, with Nahargu’ul leading. “You, and all this formality…” The Sea-Fiend said in an eery, guttural voice, taking his seat in the azure throne alongside Kilgarrah’s crimson one. “I expect it all to be dashed away, the moment we are returned to the mortal realm. But it would be quite the surprise if you proved me wrong, unlikely though it seems.”

Before the dragon god could give his answer, Yigzavath went by on his many insectoid legs, directly towards his own assigned seat. Nahargu’ul called out, “And the Filthmonger joins us for our parting, as well!”

“QUIET.” Yigzavath angrily retorted, shooting a glance at Nahargu’ul before approaching his seat, shoving it aside, and simply placing his hands on the table, head lowered, waiting for all of this to be over and done with.

“Ever such a shortcoming that he can’t even sit in a chair.” Nahargu’ul remarked, lowly.

The realm of Sombra was rather simple. It was basically a library of secrets known as the Agartha. Notes continued to flap in, books fluttered by, all information gathered from her children. But notes never left, a consequence when many of her followers had stopped believing in her, and the stories were rarely past from parent to child. Sphinxes laid about with a depressing air of boredom. Some were even playing small games. Other’s riddled each other. She understood perfectly… what was the point of defending something with no access?

Still... today was something that will change that.

Yet… no letter came for Sombra, whom was sitting outside of the library on a massive pillar staring out to a void to the end of eras, and seeing nothing. Such a thing as delivery was not needed for her. Once the letter was drafted, simply exposing its contents to the world for a mere second would be all she needed to read it. To her… her eyes were not her real eyes, they were more like decoration. Her conscience danced around space like an amoeba, seeing all at once in a general view, and focusing in to see the finer details. Strange how no one bothered to ask how she –sees- things from a great distance. But she is kind enough to provide privacy when asked. Many of the gods have holes in her vision where their personal bed chambers lies. Few realms were actually ignored, and those that were... were requested or lined in bronze.

Once the letter was read, the feline slowly rose off of her pillar. She spun around blindly, and began trotting off across the air in a casual gait.

---

Sometime later, the feline’s incorporeal body easily stepped through the wall. First her head crowned in the other side in a whispy cloud of smoke, then came the rest of her body. The feline quietly slinked across the grand hall and found her chair. The goddess paused for a moment, and turned her head to the three other’s in the room and gave a respectful nod.

She then climbed her way into the seat and made herself comfortable. Angels approached her, expecting to wait on her desires. The feline’s head tilted back for a moment to reguard them, then slowly tilted to side in thought. A few seconds later, she raised a paw, and turned it so that the pad faced the distant river.

The Angles nodded and went to work, she had somehow managed to train them in understanding some of her most basic gestures. She simply said… surprise her. And that they did. They brought her a piece of fruit, a mango. The goddess smiled, and bit down on it. Her fangs sunk down into the flesh giving her anchorage to lift it off of the plate.

In the midst of a seemingly endless deserts, a large clump of sand, ever changing, rested. It surrounded itself with cacti, great creations of sand and rock, and a small group of Djinn, who due to their actions were allowed entrance into the sand god's realm. The shifting sands, known as the Earth Blight, Thu-mmmok, rested within his ideal world, waiting for the silence to end, so he could spread his beautiful deserts further, surely the humans would like him then, right? His thinking was interrupted by one of the Djinn near him looking up, and muttering one question. "An angel?"

Thu-mmmok's form hastily changed, from the endlessly shifting sands into an amalgamation of rags, bones, and sand, towering high. to meet this angel in a form that was easier to talk to, than a mass of swirling sand. "What is it, messenger?" Thu-mmmok's raspy voice whispered harshly. The angel said no words, and simply handed a letter to the desert god. Thu-mmmok's large hands quickly seized the letter, tearing it open with surprising grace, to read its contents. His voice boomed across the desert, in a voice filled with anger and surprise. "He thinks himself mighty enough to command us so readily!?" Thu-mmmok's form heaved, and trembled, bits of sand falling off of it, due to his loss of composure, before exhaling, and calming himself.

He bid farewell to his companions, the Djinn, they were the only company he had, as the other gods very rarely visited. Dreading meeting some of the other gods, and excited to meet some of the others once again, he set off, the angel following with a sigh, Thu-mmmok's rages were not uncommon, nor were they surprising.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Thu-mmmok arrived in the Hall of Gods swiftly, despite his earlier protests, and reluctance to hear what Kilgarrah had to say, entering as a shifting mass of sand, before taking on his preferred form, a human nomad, and walking to his seat, without a word. He didn't attempt any remarks, or any personal greetings, Instead he took a deep breath, and spoke. "I suppose its nice to see you all again, for whatever that formality is worth."

The constant echoes of Ha'mmer striking anvil sang out from the divine forge, rolled down the mountain of fire it sat upon and into the dead forest below.
Within the alabaster walls of the forge, he toiled with his next creation. A blade which sang the song of doom as it was swung. To strike fear into the hearts of its enemies.

Entering the main work room where Ha stood, was an angel. It waited patiently for a while so that the divine smith would notice it, but alas, he was transfixed by his work.
-"Divine one." The angel sang out, the beauty of its voice abrupted by the violent clang as Ha struck the blade wrong, it snapped into two with a wail and the loose part clattered across the floor.

Ha heaved with hatred and anger, his work ruined, he looked up to see one of the angels had disturbed him.
-"YOU DARE DISTURB ME!!!" Ha boomed out, the slits in his helm blazed up with flames as he threw the unfinished sword, blade first towards the angel. Barely missing, as the angel stood motionless the blade screamed in anguish as it flew past its right shoulder, moved its hair and embedded itself into a wall behind it.

The angel lifted a scroll, Ha took a few slow thundering steps to the holy messenger and stroke his gauntleted hand gently an inch from the left wing of the angel. He looked distant as he leaned his head in wonder.
-"There is a price to pay for insolence within the divine forge. Luckily for you, the others have forbidden me to destroy the angels of Olympus." Ha spoke, now much more gentle. He took the scroll and read it, he read it carefully and wandered around the glowing furnace.
-"Bah, Kilgarrah and his rules..." Ha lazily tossed the scroll into the furnace fire, it burned violently and disappeared.

-"I wonder what sort of intricate thing i could make... with the wings of an angel?" Ha pondered as walked up to and gazed upon the wings of the angel, then without warning he plunged his fist into the feathered plumage and ripped loose a few feathers.
-"Be thankful i am in a good mood!" The forge master boomed out with an irritated tone before carefully laying the feather upon a workbench.

In the meeting hall.
The iron throne suddenly blazed up, the flames illuminating the many swords and weapons and pieces of armour forge-welded into its design, the grilled hatch upon the back rest revealing a buildup of heat inside it. With a violent gust of fire the hatch flew open and a spasming gauntleted hand grasped the air, then fell with force upon the seat and grabbed hold.
Another fist emerged and from within, Ha pulled himself out from within the furnace, stood up and drew 'Ember' from the fire, held it in his right hand and pointed it towards Kilgarrah while smoke, soot and embers whirled around Ha's form.

-"This better be important, king of beasts. My latest creation was destroyed because of your summons!" The black clad warriors voice boomed in the hall. But with that he seemed to have let out most of his aggression and sat down in a way akin to falling into the throne, he held 'Ember' at the handle with its tip upon the floor. With his left hand Ha rested his head upon, his index finger and the next pointing upwards while the rest was more of a fist.
He looked annoyed but weary. He realized he had worked for too long lately.

The smith gazed upon those currently gathered. The shifting sands, the virulent, the dragon and the cat. And... judging by his appearance it could only be Nahargu'ul, davy jones.
He realized he had never actually seen him properly before, an inconceivable coincidence. More like a prank of a trickster than something that was realistic.
Ha immediately looked upon Del sombra, but also thought of Nahash. It was no use, they were gods whom Ha seldom had the will to bother speaking to. Even less figure out some divine prank. With a miniscule shake of the head he ignored it.
Nahargu'ul, he was smaller than Ha had initially imagined.

Screams fill the fires of the Underworld as wraiths drags souls into the pires to listen to them scream and laugh at their tortured screams as a wraith flew toward the Dark Citadel that looms over the entire underworld like a tall mountain. The wraith rushed to the throne room and bowed its head when it reached the Dark God and in a raspy scratchy voice it spoke. "My lord. A letter has arrived for your from the heavens..." within the hood of this dark menacing figure sitting on a throne of blood and bones "...forgive me my lord i.." the dark god grabbed the wraith and the wraith now terrified struggled as the boney hand of the dark god reached for the letter and released the wraith, that wraith then turned to escape and the god tore open the letter and scowled as the god of dragons had demanded that the god show up to the heavens for a meeting and this dark gods anger began to rose and the fires in the Underworld rose and this dark god called for his lead deathknight and they flew through the Underworld up to the Heavens.

This Dark god appeared in the heavens with his scythe in hand and the DeathKnight Heshrud by his side he sat down on his black throne waiting for what he was called for by this god of dragons. "Kilgarrah i hope this is important!" He demanded as he gazed across the meeting hall as he noticed Ha, Nahargu'ul, Sombra, Thu-mmmok yigzavath and scoffed

The silence had been long, and... unbearably quiet. Iuppiter was left with little to do. At least Ha had his forge and Dormammus had his studies. Iuppiter had done work in physics and space for the most part, but the mortals he did it for had left a large hole in his heart. What was the purpose of doing work if there was no one to enjoy it?

The letter was some sort of gift. Gently being carried through the clouds until the wind had carried it right into his face. But he was too exuberant to be upset. This changed everything, and for the better.

When Iuppiter came to Olympus, he came as a self that wasn't underdressed. Human in appearance, with a large white beard and clothing that seemed to be made of clouds themselves. He looked undoubtably comfortable. Iuppiter stopped at the foot of the meeting room and gave a respectful bow to all that had presented before him. They were his equals. Primal gods or not.

"I've missed your all dearly." He said, rising back up. He looked to each of his brothers and gave them a soft smile. Then he moved into his seat- which resembled a yellow rocking chair more than a throne, and reclined into it. He turned to his right to face the empty green throne and wondered when Kalla would show. He had missed his sister. He looked to his left to Kilgarrah and Nahargu'ul- his two closest brothers. He gave them a smile, and then turned to face the rest of the group.

"It is wonderful to see you all again."

Nirvana, the realm of eternal combat. The lord of bloodshed’s divine realm was one, massive forest. Woods stretching endlessly, occasionally with a clearing for a creek or a small flow. The woods were full of game and predators living their eternal lives. You could die here, but once the sun went back up the next day deer would find itself awakening near creeks and wolves near their own pack. It was here Asivar remained for the entirety of the Silence. But the forest was not calm. No it was a blood-soaked place of violence, murder and a criminal amount of rage.

In the epicenter of the realm stood Asivar’s Hall. A massive, wood construction separated in 2 parts. The most eastern part was filled with beds, the western part was a massive hall filled with benches and tables. At the center of the feasting hall was a vat of ale and a table filled with cooked meat. That, every morning, was refilled. Near the entrance was the sacrificial table.

From the early dawn, right when the sun came up the chosen Champions of Asivar would rise up from their beds. Taking up their weapons from the feasting hall, they marched outside. To the clearing before the hall. Where, with a single horn blow from Asivar, chaos was unleashed. In a massive free-for-all warriors struck at each other. Fighting for almost the entire day. Those fallen were carried back towards the beds, where they’d rise again the next day. Re-invigorated. But not all participated in the mad battle. Some picked up their bow and arrows and stalked the forests. Nirvana was a place of Eternal Battle and Eternal Hunt. But once the moon came up, all warriors dropped their weapons, and the hunters were welcomed back to the hall from their long day of stalking their prey. The dead animals are to be thrown on the sacrificial table, from which they disappear. Serving merely to appease Asivar and prove that they were worthy of the Eternal Hunt and Eternal Battle. Every night he grants his warriors their wish. To feast on infinite ale and meat. Like madmen, they devoured the food while raging and shouting at each other. Fistfights at night are common. But all retire towards their sleeping quarters because only then can the sun come upon again. Dawning a new day of battle.

And so Asivar remained in his realm, fighting or hunting among his Chosen. Maddened every day with blood. Trying to fight off the yearning to return to the real world. His God War was not yet won, nor lost. It had to continue. And on a faithful day, when he just finished decapitating one of his own Chosen, did a white wolf appear from among the forest. Asivar immediately knew this creature was not from here. It carried a letter in his mouth, which it gracefully laid before Asivar and ran away. Behind him the clamor of metal upon metal never seized as the God of Bloodshed read his message.

---

Throwing open the large doors of Olympus Asivar marched towards his old throne. A crude construction of wood, bone, skulls, and fur. He slammed his massive war axe 'Avenger' into the table. A clear insult towards Ha, who forged the divine weapon back during the God Wars. The elegant metal has long since blackened and red, bloody veins pulsated its desire to strike out at something. It was not, in fact, the weapon Asivar would use mostly. It was fairly unworthy yet he carried it around as a stark reminder towards anyone of the God Wars he fought against his brother. With a grump, he took his ale-skin and took a sip of the bitter liquid inside, before he, begrudgingly spoke: “Speak, Kilgarrah. I have no desire to be among detestable company for long.” Though while he spoke to Kilgarrah, he eyed his age-old brother, Ha. Completely ignoring the annoying god, Iuppiter. If only he was the constant bringer of a storm, maybe then Asivar would grace him with a nod.

As Iuppiter entered and spoke to him, Ha responded with a simple raised hand.

As Asivar slammed the massive axe into the table and turned to the forge god. Both glared at each other, unmoving.
Past enmity resurfacing after being apart for so long, the silence had helped calm the hatred they held for the other, but it was far from quenched.
As Asivar looked upon him, Ha sat motionless. As not to have the meeting turn into a simple battlezone between the two.
But surprisinlgy, the avatar of steel spoke with a slightly annoyed but otherwise polite voice.

-"Asivar." Followed by a nod.

Written with @JunkMail.

---

At last, someone pleasant to associate with, at least by the Sea-Fiend’s standards. As Iuppiter took his seat among the three-out-of-four Primals, Nahargu’ul turned and asked him a relatively simple question.

“Excited?”

Iuppiter turned to the god he considered his closest brother and nodded.

“Very much so. I cannot wait to see the world again. It’s been too long.”

Iuppiter opened his mouth as if to say something, but hesitated. He thought for a moment, trying to find his words. He stroked his beard and leaned onto the arm of his chair closest to Nahargu’ul.

“And you? Are you excited?”

“Ah…” Nahargu’ul began, “I would be lying if I were to say not. But… I dread to say that I am expectant of a… less than pleasant state of things, upon our return.” He paused for a moment more, before adding, “Five centuries is nothing to us, but… to mortals, it is several lifetimes over worth of spreading their filth wherever they can. You recall the running waters full of refuse that I dealt with so vehemently?”

“Aye, I remember you being particularly angry with Yigzavath about it too.” Iuppiter said, his lips splitting into a wide smile. He imitated his fellow primal, waving his arms around loosely as if he was trying to be an angry octopus.

“Heh. True. But not all of it was the Filthmonger’s doing.” Nahargu’ul said, glaring a bit at Yigzavath, who simply had his rotten, hive-riddled hands folded over the table, twitching slightly, waiting patiently - and yes, angrily - for this deal to be done. Nahargu’ul narrowed his eyes and continued, “Much of it was on part of the mortals themselves. Tossing their waste into rivers, spoiled cargo over the sides of their ships… so much time without any intervention… it’ll look absolutely horrid.”

“I dont think it’ll be that bad. Nothing we can’t clean up.” Iuppiter said, ever optimistic. He thought on Nahargu’ul’s words for a moment before he added his own thoughts.

“Will be interesting if they manage to invent flight one day. Their air pollution from fires is small now. Hopefully we can get some… good habits into them.” he said. He looked over the sea-fiend once again and seemed to sense his worry. “If you want any assistance, I’d be happy to help in anything I can do. They all know how good we are at… working together.”

“I may beckon the occasional strike of lightning.” Nahargu’ul replied, reclining in his seat. “In truth… I’m not all so morose about it. Gives me… something to do, after all. Breaks the monotony of the ocean. At least, it will, for a time. Then, undoubtedly, things will settle again.” He sighed through his veritable beard of tentacles. “I’ll have to savor the years, I suppose.”

“Should travel with me some, when that time comes.” Iuppiter offered, his whole demeanor changing to a more hopeful one. He knew Nahargu’ul very rarely left water. Maybe a few new experiences could do his friend some good. “Mortal or not, they sure know how to cook!”

“Maybe.” Was the Sea-Fiend’s response, expressing what had to be a smirk with that unpleasant mess of a face. “Though you know my considerations towards the mainland. It’s just… so lacking in the freedom of open water.” Another pause. “Such as unpleasant as any god would feel, outside of the one place they hold power over. Though, saying that to you is…”

Again, he stopped. And sighed.

“Nevermind.”

Iuppiter reached over and patted the Sea-Fiend on the shoulder.

“The god of the sky walked the land like a man an era ago and will so again. Maybe the king of the sea should consider walking among our creations? They are after all, seventy percent water.” Iuppiter said, trying (and failing) to suppress the chuckle that followed. But it seemed the humor was lost on Nahargu’ul, who simply nodded in reply, and turned his head away, scanning the rest of the present Pantheon silently.

Del Sombra looked incredibly distracted. A handful more gods had trickled in. Her gaze would tilt to the door just before one entered, and give a mechanical nod as they did enter. There was little heart in it, like she was only partly aware of her current surroundings. But in truth, she just had her gaze elsewhere for now. Swirling like a storm over the mortal realm. Taking all in at once, and then zooming closer to the much finer details. It was a marvel at how life could progress with little interference from gods. Through the silence, she had been keeping watch over the mortal realm for most of her free time. And only pulled herself away ever so often to go join the goddesses in their hijinx, and of course in Asivar’s battle royals.

Some centuries may be nothing to gods… true. A year was a mere bat of an eye for an immortal. But still… so many misunderstand how far time advances for them. How the mortals adjust to their daily lives. The wars, the inventions, the development. Cities grew more massive, and the architecture changed with time. From the wood and tar walls with whicker roofing, to magnificent buildings and tenements made of stone and shingle. Cities had even grown more dense, where it was less common for a resident to own their own home… and instead shared living spaces with other families.

Children continued playing their strange games. And wild life seemed to have evolved a bit in some areas.

Machines of war grew more intricate, from regular catapults to trebuchets, hwachas, arrow carts, and cannons. And though rare and nearly inconvenient, were firearms. Devilish creations that can punch armor, but were terribly slow and expensive that Del Sombra could only find them in operation under the use of nobles and some adventurers.

What a wonderful world. Well… time to see what her favorite mortal was doing.

---

Far below the clouds of the mortal realm, a Sergal climbed a massive tree in the middle of a bog. Above it was a small shoddy looking treehouse. A creation that basically laughed in the phase of any logical being, and invited only the demented to take permanent residence. With it’s cobbled together foundation in the branches of a tree, rope sloppily made rope ladder, and uneven spacing between boards… a true mason would only cry at the horror. But the truth was… it was made by children.

The massive female allowed every bit of slur and profanity in her native tongue drip from her mouth like a leaky faucet. Some of it was cursing the strange vampiric like giant moths waiting for her below. Some of it was directed to the souls of the children who built the damned thing so high up. And a lot of it was at herself for taking a job… with no pay… from a child.
“FAH! If Reeva did not have such a soft heart, she wouldn’t be in this place! But nooo! She had to listen to a skin bag’s bastard child complain about monstrous voices and whispers in the dark!” She hissed as one of the rungs snapped under her weight, and immediately grabbed hold of the rope.

“Just child’s imagination! NOPE! OH STORM FATHER IT COULDN’T BE THAT SIMPLE COULD IT!? Because the ENTIRE ORPHANAGE IN A SWAMP! A SWAMP! WAS CLAIMING THE SAME THINGS! THEN SOME PINK MENTIONED SOME CHILD’S MONSTER SLAYER CLUB YEARS BACK! AND HERE REEVA IS!”

“ON MONKEY ROPE, CLIMBING UP TO A ROTTING HOUSE IN THE MIDDLE OF A FORSAKEN FOG FULL OF AK’ABS! Oh-ho-ho AND JUST AS NASTY AS THEY SAY! ‘Something I could not, and must not recall’ REEVA’S ASS! YOU CAN CERTAINLY REMEMBER THOSE HORRIBLE THINGS!”

The mortals complaints and livid prattling did not cease until she finally had both feet squarely inside of the tree house.

The child made construction was surprisingly large. It allowed enough room for her to stand up straight and walk around. Chairs, charcoal, and ink were all over. Some dolls and fake swords lied around. Drawings were hung on the wall with patches of dried tar. They were all faded. And dust covered everything.

But some searching around lead her to what was the clubs handbook. They were crudely drawn, but the instructions seemed clear… better than what the map was. Each page detailed the nightmareish creatures in the bog many of which she has seen, including her vicious little friends below. But one final page remained…

“… Bogeyman?” She couldn't read the words. But she recognized the picture to many different children's stories.

Five hundred years... How many deities had a grasp on precisely how long that truly was?

It was nothing in the greater course of things, a drop in eternity, certainly. But to look upon the mortal world, one would see that change came with every grain of sand within the hourglass, every trickling moment between one second and the next, every new birth into an old world, every moment in which fact became myth became lost, every gap between the spark of neurological pathways--

Nahash tilted her head, and her numerous reptilian eyes blinked as they studied her own personal domain, situated upon the long, coiling snakes that comprised her 'hair'. All around her, the evidence of the passage of time stood starkly against the sheer immobility of divinity, the unyielding nature of the godly realm. Armor that once was as new as the dew in the morning now bore a layer of rust as thick as its own plating. The fresh fruit upon the ivory table beside it had not been touched in 600 years, preserved by the Serpent's will.

Mirrors reflected her figure sharply in every corner, upon every wall. Some of them reflected a figure other than her own, and others moved independently of her own reflection, but it mattered not. It was the nature of her artifacts, to be... Surreal to the mind. And after 500 years, they could never hope to surprise her again.

The air whistled as it whipped through the numerous passages into her realm of artifacts and memorable things, brushing against ancient steel and glass, hide and papyrus, silk and gold. A memory for every year was contained within the ancient labyrinthine room, and the very air itself puzzled the mind. Crystals contained the knowledge of Nahash, and the memories of her servants-- preserved, forever. It was wondrous, miraculous, a vast expanse of treasures and memories and moments lost to time immortalized.

It was hers, and she was so incredibly bored.

Nahash collapsed backwards with a hiss, slumping into a pile of silken robes. They were the same robes she had been impatiently fretting about in for a hundred years now, just as these walls were the same splendid patterns of platinum and marble and gold and other chaotic configurations. She had marveled at them when they had first arisen, but now they were dull.

500 years without a single visit to the mortal world, a single chance to experience all that had changed. Nahash felt as if she was about to usurp the god of madness.

"Milady, I--"

The angel blinked at the hand that rested upon his cheek, a hand that had become present between one blink and the next. Those who said the serpentine goddess was quicker than an arrow gave no exaggerations.

Nahash spoke. Her voice was a low, hypnotic by its very nature, alluring in a way that defied explanation. "Servant of the divine, keeper of this realm, I beseech you." She tilted her head up, and the angel was certain her eyes would be pleading, if she possessed any beyond her serpents. "Tell me something has changed, or else I fear my mind is lost."

Rather than replying immediately, the angel presented the Serpent Goddess with the divine message he had been tasked to carry. "You have been summoned, milady."

Slowly, Nahash grinned. Though their faces were rather inflexible, her serpentine hair somehow managed to convey great excitement.

---

Nahash arrived to the hall with all the smooth grace and power befitting a grand serpent, her immensely long tail propelling her across the floor. Her ruby lips were twisted into a sly smile, but it took everything in the Albino Gorgon's power to not simply lunge across the distance and coil around the dragon god in an exuberant hug.

She doubted he would appreciate the gesture.

Rather than embarrass herself and anger the fiery force of nature, Nahash settled for releasing a pleased hum as she examined those in attendance. In truth, not even the presence of Yigzavath could dampen her spirits; they would-- all of them- be returning to the mortal realm soon. How could she find it within herself to be even irritated at the filth god? Kulorerstus still received a displeased flicker of her serpentine tongue, but that was par for the course. Such a brute, that one.

Nahash's fractured view of the world, a mural of dozens of inhumanly keen eyes, caught sight of one of the Albino Gorgon's favorite goddesses before she had even fully entered the room. Their full attention focused upon her, the many serpentine heads turning to focus upon Del Sombra before Nahash's own head did as well. The deity was clearly elsewhere, as distracted as she was, and the Serpent had no doubt that the events she observed were highly interesting. They usually were.

Nahash slithered forward as smoothly as ever, easily navigating into her own strange throne and nodding respectfully to those she glided past. It was close to the goddess of secrets, more of a bowl than a proper chair, padded with incredibly soft silk and large enough to fit her coiled bulk adequately. Curling into herself in a manner akin to a snake, Nahash leaned back against one of her own coils, her arms draped along its length. She was larger than usual today.

Soon, she promised herself, the Mind Shear tapping a soft rhythm against her own pale scales, We'll be there soon.

Madness. Exhilarating, captivating, imprisoning, destructive, seductive but in the end... existing. Gtyaebyklung Myulythcba Aebvn Iepkpicnt Iiliilktve swirled around in his cloak, floating in chaotic ways within the ball of cloak he had made around himself. Using the quality of the said cloak, he was attempting to mimic the infinite depths of the ocean, a place he enjoyed frequenting as staring into the deep abyss brought him delectable feelings of dread and fear. Enough to drive any man insane. Absolutely gorgeous. No wonder why the Sea-Fiend wasn't interested in anything outside his watery domain.

The Stranger swirled around, attempting to upright himself from an upside down position. He cackled madly as he rediscovered that it didn't matter whether or not he was upside down. In a world so bent and warped, the idea of upright was more of a joke than anything else. To some perhaps, it is an ideal or even an ideology. A concept which can provide stability and safety. Laws and order. Light and dark. Black and white. Such preposterous thoughts. 'Ridiculous.'

The Outsider had noticed his ball of cloak had disbanded and began to flail around madly like some freshly dismembered tentacles of a sea monster. It was displaying all colors of the rainbow, and then some in rapid succession. It was a sight enough to drive any mortal mad just through the sheer amount of visual information shown. 'Funny.' The Laughing God thought. 'I never ordered it to do tha...' He didn't finish his current thoughts before another voice penetrated through his consciousness.

'You are displeased'.
'So it seems.' The Outsider sighed.
'Long has been 500 years. Too long for beings such as The Man Between Reality. The Silence has been... suffocating.'
'And yet you forget.' The Stranger raised a finger in a chastising manner. 'Eternity is longer still. Tell me not we weren't at least entertained during our wait.'
'...'

The voice disappeared within Lord Madness' head. He waited a minute for it to comeback, knowing full well it wasn't going to. It didn't like it when Erisbili made a counterpoint to whatever it was saying. He made another attempt to scratch at the back of his mind, trying to goad it back out. Instead he got something else. A message. His cloak immediately calmed down as he returned to his most neutral state; appearing as a generic man clad in black flowing cloth. The room that was his personal space lit up in pale light as an infinitely large sky stretched on over his head as just as an endless floor made of a single piece of mirror ruled the ground beneath his feet. Lord of Illusions lifted up his head to see an angel before him. He realized whatever he found in the back of his mind was actually just the voice coming from the being infront of him. He sighed and scratched his head as he smiled coldly at his visitor, his eyes flashing purple.

"Erisbili, Lord Madness, Master of Illusions, Architect of Madness, among many other titles." This one was a polite one. The Master of the Impossible was rather pleased and his eyes flashed and changed into a deep green hue.
"You have been summoned, my lord." Erisbili was rarely treated so well by other deities. Then again, angelics were far beneath him. In power and influence. And madness. Especially madness. The Outsider gave a deep evil laugh as he were some scheming demon of hell who was just hatching his most nefarious plans. 'WAIT.' He thought to himself. 'That's Kulorerstus' job!' His laughter turned into one that was almost that of a giggle.

"So be it." The Stranger used one of his many voices to communicate to the angel before him, making sure his other ones were still laughing at the stupid joke he made to himself. One of many perks of having so many different voices to speak for him for sure. He disintegrated just into his fabric self, using this form to fly away rapidly to his new destination. The Outsider almost looked like some demented manta ray as he sliced through the air in a strange yet graceful way.

---

Mad cackle filled the meeting room as Lord Madness descended unto his throne. Or at least where his throne will now be. As he descended and formed back into his human form, his cloak began to form into the throne design he wished to sit in for the day. Lord of the Impossible desired to sit in a deep, cushioned and infinitely comfortable chair that appeared to be consuming himself. His cloak made it so. He cackled madly as he sank into his throne, imagining himself falling deeper into madness as if such a feat was possible.

Near The Outsider himself, mad sounds came from within. A cackle, a cry, a scream... thousands and millions of them, forming a mad cacophony. But this was no ordinary cacophony. It was a pervasive, uncomfortable sound that penetrated into the mind deep. In all honesty, this aura of noise combined with a natural sense of antagonistic feeling to madness was what made The Stranger so unpopular among the other deities. He was actually a rather pleasant being; or so he thought to himself. Conveniently however, his throne was situated next to one of his favorite fellow deity, Del Sombra. She had already graced herself with her presence to the meeting but seemed to be distracted with her usual activity of watching a mortal. No matter.

However, next to Del Sombra was Nahash, The Serpent. The Outsider's smile grew even keener and colder as his eyes flashed bright pink. He was no fan of The Serpent. Her obsessive and selfish domain of the mind was haughty enough. Such wonderful domain should be shared, exploited, tasted. Yet the slithering Goddess had never offered The Laughing God any sort of shared venture in such regards, which displeased him greatly. Looking at her, sitting in her silky throne, The Stranger consciously made his throne even softer, as if he was trying compete with her in some sort of "who has the most comfortable throne" competition like a sassy child. He chuckled in a high pitch tone as he teared his gaze away from The Serpent to gaze upon the rest of the Gods as well as the table before him. He licked his lips as he ordered a corner of his cloak to bring forth to him a chalice of nectar. Taking the chalice in his hand, The Stranger proceeded to pour its contents into his cloak.

Dormammus looked towards The Outsider and frowned. "Outsider, why are you here? You're not one of us." Dormammus stated. He wasn't referring to the fact Outsider was a god. He was definitely one of them in that sense, but as far as Outsider being "One of us" is a cause for debate. Outsider's power was illusionary. "Not that we want to kick you out or anything. Oh well, hello and enjoy the feast, I suppose. I can't wait for Kilgarrah to finally announce the subject matter at hand." He sighed. "Listen, Outsider, I kind of enjoy some of your illusions. Perhaps you could liven up the feast halls with Kilgarrah's permission. We sure could use something to interest us right now." Dormammus appeared in his wizard form, with a steel skull cap on his head. "I myself can use powerful illusions, but I suppose you have me beaten in that area of magic."Meanwhile, he wore his fabled Ring of Dormammus on his right index finger, and drank the wine from the Grail. "You know I could offer you something real sweet to drink. Plenty of wine that's conjured from this holy Grail can be given for your tastes. Whatever you want it to taste like, it will taste."

Everything was catching Dormammus'es attention. . . The grandeur, the important people, the dragon on the throne, the angels, the feasting. "Outsider, I am curious, what brings you here? You don't often enter our sights. I hope you aren't planning on mischief."

Sombra: Olympus

Sombra pulled her attention away from the mortal realms for a moment when she detected some prolonged movement near her. She thought it, and she was there, looking upon herself, and the room of Valhalla. It did not seem much more of the gods had arrived. There were only two other’s it seems. The lord of madness in the flesh had taken residence near her throne. She smiled…. only to realize she still had the whole mango in her jaws. So she kicked back her head and swallowed the fruit whole.

A glance to the side, had revealed what had drawn her attention away from the mortal she was watching. It appears the snake goddess had also arrived. She couldn’t speak or make an audible sound, but she did have a few kind gestures that she could make.

The goddess stood from her throne, and bounded into the other’s lap. She found her way to the center of the coils and made herself comfortable. It took very little effort on her part to split her focus, once again locating and watching Reeva Pewterarm.

---

Reeva: Mortal Realm: Some bog
The path to the bogeyman was one that was painted with red. Shallow – ankle high murkey water acted as the cobble stones of a long winding road. The silt and muck clouded it, preventing the woman from seeing more than an inch. But every now and then she’d kick against something that felt more solid than a branch. And rarely, one kick would surface a humanoid's rib cage or femur.

Small skeletons were strewn across the ground like a bread crumb trail. Reeva stopped for a moment to lift a skull and closely examine it.The bone was a mixture of black and red in hue. The black coloring easily scraped off like a goop to reveal some lighter hints of red underneath. The body part was small with a crack running from the eye socket to the cranium. The teeth hadn't even matured yet, and some were missing. Definitely a child’s, would explain the missing children. It appears she won't be able to get back those that disappeared in the nights before.

She tilted it a bit, and spotted some signs of flesh left inside the skull. Maggots writhed and fell out of the various holes. The body didn’t decay naturally. Either some bugs got to it, or whatever it was she got to kill. This was already on the start of a -fantastic- evening.

The further she followed the path marked by the children’s map… the stranger things became. There were no sounds of bird calls. No rustling in the distance. The wind grew still. The air grew dank. And a thick fog became visible. It wasn’t longer before she was in it.

The water was no longer runny, but became thick and congealed with a black and crimson substance. The color in the environment disappeared, and the contrast in the lighting had changed severely, magnifying the intensity of the sun, but increasing the depth of shadows.

Then there it stood. A creature born from the nightmares of children and turned real by some unknown force. It stood, looming in great height staring down to the sergal. Eyes unseen, and it's grin was magnificent. If magnificent was even the proper word to use for such a demon.

The sergal inhaled deeply. Her eyes starting at the creature’s feet, and slowly rising with the aid of her head tilting back to look it in the…. massive skin boiling grin.

“…Bogeyman?” The sergal called out. She mentally cursed herself even further for taking the job and going through with it.

The creature nodded. Its shoulder’s heaved in a silent laugh.

“Oh… fantastic… alright then… you know why I am here.” she sighed. Her right hand lowered to the hilt of her long sword, which was held by the blade in her left hand. She flipped the blade and brought it bare in front of her. Both set of claws on the hilt, and the guard brought close to her hips. Her stance was low enough that one of her knees was early touching the water.

Her mind began processing the various pictures she saw on the back of the page. Many of which were strange. Children covering their eyes... not looking at the creature. Children illuminating the shadows. Or children counting to ten while hiding.

The massive creature bowed, removing what must have been a hat, and spun its cane by his side. When it looked up, the Sergal felt her blood run cold, and the world turn to some dark twisted reality.

She was no longer standing in the bog. But in some far off void. Where reality did not touch, and the rules of physics were quite vague. Swarms of indescribable horrors flew over head. And as for the bogeyman... well he was dancing joyfully in circles around the female.

And breaking the quiet... was a soft jingling sound. A song... made by bells first... then violins... and the voices of departed children. It was more of a funeral refrain than a song for dancing... and yet that was what he did.

Definitely a long... fantastic evening.

---

Sombra: Olympus

Sombra looked up when she heard the voice of Dorrhammus. His intentions... seemed all over the place. First he seemed hostile. Then dormant. Then passive aggressive. Then accepting. Then inquisitive. What a strange batch of emotions to display in only a few seconds.

Nahash's smile only failed to maintain its intensity when the mad god entered the room, the attention-grabbing figure he was. Of course, if she were to tell the truth, then she would have to admit that part of the attention he grabbed was almost certainly due to her own disdainful opinion of the deity.

Her serpents were there to express what she did not; hissing came forth from her 'hair' as it twisted and turned, half of its attention focused on the mad one, while the other half remained split between the rest of the room, albeit mostly towards Sombra. Their tongues flicked in agitation as Nahash watched the mad deity, and Nahash initially refrained from acknowledging his 'challenge' in the form of his self-made throne.

The noise that came from him, for all of its cacophonous dissonance, was a mere annoyance. What his heart held was far more distracting. Of all the gods, Nahash understood Erisbili the least. She knew the mind well, and his mind was no exception, but it was a tangled mess. She could-- in a broad sense- understand him, but the dissonance from a more 'mundane' structure was compounded by her significant distaste towards the mad god; it was as disconcerting--and confusing- for Nahash as communing with a man with no face would be for a human.

Del Sombra interrupted her slow dissent into a negative mood with her timely arrival into the serpent's lap, and her smile became wholly genuine; the distraction was welcome, as was the goddess. Lowering one hand from the coil her back rested against, the Albino Gorgon brushed her fingers against the head of the other deity's feline form. That the form's corporeality was optional was of no concern to Nahash; it was a kind greeting of her own.

And if some of her 'hair' hissed smugly in Erisbili's general direction, it was not acknowledged by Nahash, and thus was similarly of no consequence. Instead, she chose to spoke to the other goddess, despite expecting absolutely no answer. "Something has your interest, dear Secret Keeper." It could be judged by the tone in her dulcet voice that it was not a question.

Somewhere in the mortal plain, under a sunlit sky, there is a stretch of farmland. Sprawling fields of green, forests in the distance, paths to town, and a barn and a house at the center of it all. Everything was perfectly normal within the scene, save for the barn’s stables being very much on fire.

There were men about. Poorly dressed, unkempt, foul-smelling… evil men. Not the simple evil of merely possessing a penchant for raping and pillaging, there was… literally, something evil within them. Seeping from their eyes, noses, mouths, ears, in the form of an opaque, black fluid. Some were riding their own horses around the grounds, afflicted with the same unsightly material - though it was much more apparent for them. Horrible, jagged wounds ran along their necks, with the fluid bleeding out of them and onto the dirt and grass profusely, leaving little black spots everywhere.

Something was alive within it. Squirming, writhing, desperately seeking something organic to… inhabit.

An unafflicted horse broke free and ran from the stables, only to be struck from the bolt of a crossbow moments later. It stumbled, falling, sliding on the dirt. Another horse, with two of the afflicted men riding it, quickly approached. One dismounted, approached the fallen, screaming horse, and brandished a knife. As the equine specimen kicked and neighed, the man gently inserted the knife into its neck and ran it down the length. But before the horse lied still, the man…

Vomited, into the wound.

The putrid black filth, crawling with tiny, worm-like creatures, quickly burrowed into the horse’s wound, spreading throughout its body. It struggled for only moments before, somehow settling, ceasing its movements while the man stood up, and watched it do the same.

It was one of them now.

Nearby, at the front of the house, there was another congregation of afflicted men. One of them particularly, seemed the leader of the terrible band. Tall, gangly, black-haired and pale-skinned. Even more disgusting in appearance, with bulging black veins spread about on his skin. In his hand was a long, serrated blade, almost cruel in appearance. His eyes, yellow and swollen, peered at the farmer who was down beside the door, crying.

“Just, just- please! Take the horses, take everything! Leave me and my family alone!” He called out. The leader, however, seemed none the sort for sympathy. He replied to him, in a horrible, guttural voice with an unseemingly jolly tone, backed by a fluid-stuffed throat, “We’re taking our pickings, don’t you worry. Your horses, they’re all very fine indeed… but we’ll need a bit more to, compensate for your initial failure to… work with us.”

“Anything you want! Just say it!”

“Well… saw your dog earlier… looked to have a good nose on ‘im. Could be useful.”

“Yes! Take the dog!”

“We will! Thank you! And, uh… well, your son, saw him out working the fields earlier too, he’d make a fine addition to our little posse. Young, strong, good at menial labor…”

“No, no, no, don’t take him, please I’ll-”

The man pressed his fingers against the farmer’s mouth, making a long “shh” noise. “Stop talking now, and that’s all we’ll take.” He said, “Cross this kind man’s heart.” The farmer did not say anything - only attempting to hold back tears as two afflicted men breached his home, and searched for his son and dog.

“It’ll be over soon, friend.” Said the leader, with a disgusting smile, “Trust me.”

---

Yigzavath was internally demanding that the rest of the Pantheon hasten their arrival. His hands were twitching, as were his arachnid appendages. Damn it, he had work to do. Why did no one else understand that simple fact? He was no slouch or lounger, he was a god with a job.

At least, that seemed his twisted way of saying it.

He darted his source-hidden vision around the area, scanning the other deities. Sombra, acting like a child nestling in Nahash’s lap. Dormammus going haywire on Erisbili. The Primals all talking silently, with Kilgarrah maintaining his downright annoying vigil.

Yigzavath continued to twitch patiently. He knew full well all he had the power to do now was wait.

Thu-mmmok noticed the gods and goddesses slowly trickling in, it'd only be a matter of time before she showed up, and she would almost definitely make it her duty to state loudly, and convincingly, that an endless desert was a horrid idea. Thu-mmmok needed a drink, ambrosia, not too much, he didn't want to make a fool of himself in front of the other gods, just a small glass, enough to steady his nerves. He waved to an angel, the angel quickly walked over to his side. "A glass of ambrosia, a small one though, I don't want to get too festive, yet." Thu-mmmok said with a charming smile, that betrayed the anxiety welling up within.

Thu-mmmok's eyes scanned the room, as he waited for his drink to be served, Dormammus seemed to be both hostile and friendly to the mad god at the same time, and of course the mad god showing up was far from expected. What caught the desert god's eye in particular though, was the building frustration coming from Yiggzavath, he could at least attempt to lighten his mood, couldn't he? Thu-mmmok's shoulder began to create sand, that wove itself over to the Filthmonger's location, and began to spoke, as if it had a mouth. "Yiggzavath, you seem more frustrated than usual, the waiting pains me too, but this horrid meeting will not last too much longer, perhaps we could discuss collaborations afterwards?" Thu-mmmok said in a calm tone, he knew that any cheerful excitement would have an incredible negative effect on Yiggzavath, and mentioning a collaboration would hopefully get his mind off of waiting. Yiggzavath did love to create.

The sand stayed by the Filthmonger, in case he went to reply, as Thu-mmmok waited for his drink, he smiled slightly at seeing Del Sombra, and Nahash's friendly nature, he was glad at least some could be cheerful today, and he was found of Del Sombra, she was one of the few who appreciated his deserts after all. At last, the glass arrived, Thu-mmmok knew he had to pace himself, but it was so very tantalizing, just a sip, at first. He thought to himself, as he took a small sip. The drink was as powerful as he remembered, and such an excellent taste. While he enjoyed the drink, he attempted to let his mind wander, perhaps that trial he placed had been won by now, perhaps he would have a champion to return to.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

In the great deserts of K'num, there was a single creature, walking through the desert, followed by, as if they were guarding the creature, two large scorpions. This great creature was to lead the deserts all around the world to salvation, a great champion picked by the wisest Djinn in the lands, Al Sabbath. This creature was so great, it only went by one name: Louis, a fearsome camel, and the only creature to pass Al Sabbath's tests, set up by the desert god before the gods vanished, surely this camel was more than an average one. The camel stopped, and began to eat a small patch of grass, before making one of those weird camel noises, and walking in a totally different direction from before. Clearly, this creature was a genius.

Ashevelen stood there in the Great Hall. The Silence was too long for her but Luck has changed in her way and it had ended. As always she didn't choose to stay on a throne but made her own chair made of shadows. She looked at the other Gods and wandered why was she called from her realm here to the pantheon. If the Silence ended , she should return to her wandering of the New World.
Ashevelen wanted to explore this world , she wanted to see what the mortals did to the world. For what is life without a little good Luck ? What have they done to her gift to the mortals ? Would they consider it just a myth or would it not exist at all ? She was restless.
Ashevelen approached Nahash and with a smile , she hugged her as a friend would do and asked " Hello dear friend. Do you know why we have been called here today ? Why we have to stay here and wait ? I want to see the New World. I want to see the mortals. What have they done with our world ? What have they done with our gifts *she looks at the other Gods* or curses ? I...hope that they have not destroyed our world. I mean...we spent so much time building that world...it would be bothersome for us to build another , right ? "

Ashevelen didn't know what to do.

@ShyDot

Yigzavath turned his attention towards Thu-mmmok’s… appendage. The God of the Sands had even the littlest ways of invading someone’s space - although this was much more benign compared to his usual fronts and suggestions. An endless desert… Yigzavath was no fan of the notion. A desert is no suitable environment for his most virulent of scourges. So barren, so far-strung between civilizations… his diseases would die and wither in corpses buried in the sands. Insects could roam about, yes, but that just simply isn’t enough for the Filthmonger.

“We will have nothing to collaborate on.” Yigzavath said to the thin, granulated apparition of Thu-mmmok, “I have five-hundred years of work to implement. I don’t need anymore ideas, I need action. I need OUT of this… gathering...”

He turned his head again. Thu-mmmok’s appendage was unresponsive, and had become somewhat lopsided, indicating that either he was currently becoming a willing victim to a glass of ambrosia, or he simply wasn’t paying attention to the Filthmonger anymore. Yigzavath angrily groaned and swatted the sand away with his hand, going back to his folded position at the table, again waiting patiently for this deal to be done. Thoughts raced through his mind - what he’d have to do once he returned to the Infested Workshop. Check his inventory, see what was still alive and what had perished. Wipe the dust off the equipment, replace the assuredly spoiled mixing pool…

And the Acolytes.

What became of his Acolytes?

He would most likely have to rebuild them from the ground up. It had been so long since he had to carry out such a thing. It aggravated him, the thought of his goals stagnating without a proper workforce. Unlike the majority of the Pantheon, he relied on mortals to see his will done.

He continued to ponder, in twitching, irritated silence.

@NachoBachoPacho