The Heavens, the most beautiful, and brilliant place in all the world. Nothing could compare to it’s majesty in the lands of Mortals, the brilliant white ivory that made up every column, and pedestal, the magnificent statues, and art that made up the décor in every room. The delicately placed gold inlays that streamed seamlessly across the domed ceiling to it’s very core where a large crystal filled a void in the ceiling filtering in beams of sunlight. This place was built beautifully, and every detail carefully crafted by the King himself, no detail went untouched, and though there was an air of foreboding, still this place shined like a star in a sea of darkness compared to what his children had made in the lands below. Set in the middle of the room was a single box, clear, shimmering, made of pure diamond, and inside was the body of the King, forever frozen in time by his beautiful coffin. Making a semi-circle around the tomb is series of thrones, each carved, and decorated for the God that would be assigned to it, several though would of course go empty as their owners were no longer alive. Meanwhile one large throne sat at the head, empty it would remain, several centers of power sealed into its frame, vibrating and waiting for someone to claim it.

The sky flashed outside for a moment, a single bolt of lightning streaking through a window, and across the chamber crashing against the smooth marble floor. A flash of light would have blinded anyone there before revealing Oksana to stand where the flash of lightning had once stood. Rather than her armor she wore a smooth robe of sheer silk, it clung to her body like damp cloth though it was light as air. Every outline of her body stood out in detail that could only be more revealing if she had gone naked. Turning to look around the council chambers, she saw that no one else had arrived, and gave a sigh. “Always late, even when the Keeper calls.” She muttered as she moved to her throne, one that literally was storm clouds floating in the air, with flashes of lighting appearing inside the dense, dark nimbus. She settled into the throne. A sharp rectangle of light suddenly cut its way through near the corner of the room.

From the rectangle of light steps a large dark skinned man, clad in gold armor, and carrying a staff with a eye upon the end. “I see you are the first to arrive as always Oksana. I have sent messages to the minds of all your siblings. All of them, and even your nieces and nephews.” Slowly the man walked towards the middle of the room, standing before the diamond coffin calloused hands stroking across the lid of the tomb. “You know, I used to be jealous that your father named all of you, but me.. I am simply Guardian, or the Guardian. Though I have grown old and understand that my purpose is greater than I realized at that time.” Giving a sigh a he began to shuffle towards the King’s throne, his age beginning to show more with every step. “We have maybe a few years… Before it all.. I suppose I should wait till the others arrive.” The Guardian waved his hand, and a smaller chair appeared next to the King’s throne, the Guardian taking his seat.

With pursed lips Oksana listened to the Guardian speak, of emotions that had never been expressed aloud before. “You were most precious to the King, Guardian. You are also precious to all of us.” She looked to her Father, staring at his corpse, his white hair long and brained down his chest. A single tear rolled down her cheek and dropped onto her robe. She then looked to the other thrones, they were empty for now, but soon most would be full. Only the major Gods had thrones though, those that were minor gods would be forced to stand, and listen, their words likely to be ignored by the rest of those attending. “I hope we can come to a peacable outcome…” Her eyes lifted wandering to the windows, remembering the rebellion as she looked at the thrones that would remain empty, remembering those who died. Her mind began to wander to her daughters, and Hilde, how she missed Hilde… Another tear rolled down her cheek.

---

The lands of Eperus a hot, dry, empty place full of blood-shed, and anger. A large four armed feminine figure stood alone, blood soaking the sands beneath her feet as she stared at a rather large worm like creature half protruding from the sand. Zadia flexed slightly as she yanked her spear free from the creature’s head, eyes narrowing as she smiled a bit gleefully at the bloodshed. Today had been a good hunt, she thought to herself as she stepped onto the corpse. Her body glistened with a light sheen of sweat, her attire simple, bracers, shin guards, and the most insignificant covering on her breasts in the form of gold coins molded and fit to her body’s shape. This was more than was normal for the race that she was bred from, as they typically wore nothing at all.

As she soaked in her victory a voice suddenly sounded through her mind, the voice of the Guardian, speaking to her, to the one who was banished from all of the other God’s lands after she had warred against so many even after the rebellion. ’Come now daughter of War, daughter of Kovar. The time has come for you to join the other gods, to take your place among them. The time to choose a new King is upon us.’ For a long time Zadia could do nothing but stand there, staring off in the distance, her body tense.

“I see.” She said more to herself than anyone else.” Suddenly her legs flexed and she jumped into the air, her body sizzling away as she turned into a red ball of energy that shot up towards the sky. “Now is the time for me to take my place, to claim the throne for my father!”

The heavy blows of his hammer against the heated metal currently in his care, the heavy striking with expert placement to shape the metal to his will, the Forge ringing with every impact, the sound almost musical to his ears, drowning out the hatred he felt for why he was making this weapon. Remaking would be a better wording, for this weapon was one he had crafted many centuries before, before the devastation of the rebellion of Kovar, a weapon he had shattered and damn near killed himself.

Vatra soared over his head, a wash of fresh, invigorating heat flowing over himd as he worked, his avatar soaring to take its perch atop the Forge itself. He smiled, his hands never stopping the work before them, he had spent nearly six months restoring this weapon, his mind running through the countless weapons forged through his hands in his life, fixed on the long spear, almost nagatina-style weapon, it was a deadly weapon, the scar on his chest was tantamount to that, and here he was remaking a weapon that could kill him, and others of his somewhat argumentative family. With a quiet sigh he pushed the cooling metal back into the forge, the blade had to be perfect again, the haft was completed, down to the engravings etched painstakingly with the same detail he had placed in it all those centuries before.

“Father,” came the soft voice of his daughter, Siani, stepping into his sanctum from the worlds of gods and mortals, none could enter without his permission, the temper of the Forge itself was not something to be taken lightly, and to trespass was a severe tempting of fate.

“What is it, daughter?” he said, pulling the metal from the Forge and placing it upon the anvil.

“The Guardian calls us, to choose a new King, all are summoned,” she said, keeping her distance from her father.

“Find your brother, I’ll meet you at the Mouth of the Forge,” he said, continuing to beat the metal into what his mind was picturing it to be.

It was a rare thing that would make Ferrum stop what he was making, and Siani knew in her heart, despite all the hate and death dealt in the war, the loss of the King, Ferrum’s own father, cut deep into him, piercing deeper than any blade could, a wound that no armor could prevent. He was focussing on something to keep the pain of it away, despite the side he choose during the Rebellion, he did love his father. The heavy blow was a little much, even she saw that bubbling of frustration in how tense his muscles became, the hissing of the metal telling her he thrust it back into the heat to correct it.

She left without another word, but Ferrum could feel the eyes of Vatra upon his back, the great fire bird was still perched above him, staring at him when he looked up at her. She stretched her wings and let him take in her full glory before settling again and looking up to the skies above. Ferrum smiled as he pulled the steel from his Forge, beating the imperfection out of it quickly and precisely, the ringing of the strikes becoming quick and almost musical as he worked, forgetting the world around him as he finished forging the metal to his will, leaning up some hours later with the finished piece in his grasp. He stepped over to the haft he had remade for it, the moment the base of the steel touched the haft he felt the almost shocking charge of the connection, of a weapon that knew it was to be whole again. He didn’t need to fix the pair together, the steel slid easily into the haft, the neck constricting suddenly to hold it in place, a wave of fire cascading over the blade and down the haft as the powers it once held were once more held into creation.

“Father! We must go!” called Siani from the great gate to the Forge, Krixis, her bearded brother standing at her side, a full two feet taller than his sibling.

“I know, was just finishing an old mistake,” said Ferrum, wrapping the weapon in a sheet of cloth bearing the sigil of his Forge and realm. He carried the weapon as though he revered it, passing it to Krixis as he reached them.

“Wyrm’s Tooth is a creature of pride, she won’t allow me to hold her completed form for long, not after the last time,” he said, seeing Krixis take the weapon carefully in his hands. The weapon was almost as tall as he was.

Ferrum turned and gripped his own weapon, God-Smiter, an immense war hammer crafted by his brother, Aesis, the weapon was perfectly balanced, a masterpiece created by one other than the God of the Forge, a fact that Ferrum readily accepted. With his weapon in hand, he lead his children to the mouth of the Valley of the Forge, an almost sullen silence between them as Siani wanted to hold the weapon as well.

“I’ll have something for you to carry in the future, daughter, but the fires within that weapon are beyond even your control, I do not wish to tempt fate with your life,” he said as he noticed the looks Siani gave her elder brother.

At the mouth to the Valley, overlooked by the fortifications of Corinth, as well as the two largest golems that Ferrum had ever crafted, was a small dais, raised from the stonework that led through the Valley, and with four large pillars set in a perfect square, the dais was Ferrum’s choice to leave his realm for another, it was an ancient design, before the Dwarfs had mastered the use of hammer and chisel, placed there by the King himself when Ferrum first began to forge his land and people from the wilds they had once been. He looked up to the sky as he placed the head of his God-Bane into the slot, twisting it and watching the fires of the Forge suddenly fill the slight gaps in the stonework, the great flames casting a swirl of sigils and ancient words. With an almost thunderclap of sound, the world around the trio changed.

No longer were they stood in Corantha, the great mountains surrounding them, the open sky above and the great golems watching over them. The stood in the King’s realm now, the beautiful architecture was something that even the God of the Forge was unable to equal on such a scale, Ferrum hefted his God-Bane to his shoulder, running his hand along the great columns as he passed them, stepping into the great hall, two people were already present, the ancient Guardian, and the enforcer of the Gods, a momentary feeling of hatred boiled within his heart, the humiliation of the punishment given to him for his part in the rebellion, and the loss of one of his closest brothers threatening his control of his fiery nature.

“Oksana, first as always I see,” he growled, a voice like granite, grounding from his chest as he stepped past his throne, the monster of shaped iron and stone, with no backrest, it was practically a large anvil, with arm rests of marble at the sides.

His children said nothing as they stepped to either side of the throne, Siani’s temper flaring almost beautifully to Ferrum’s eyes, while Krixis was as cold as metal, his expression giving nothing of the feelings he bore to the Goddess of the Storms. He stepped towards his sister, hammer still at his shoulder, inclining his head slowly before looking to the body of his father.

“Even in life he looked peaceful,” he said, sighing lightly. “You’d think he was just asleep,”

Turning away he stepped to his seat, placing his weapon across it, his silver hands untarnished by any sign he had worked a Forge at any point in time. He looked to the other empty thrones, his eyes settling on the War God's throne, Kovar would never take that throne again, it would remain empty until the sins of the father had passed from memory, but with this family, those sins would burn for a long time yet.

Drums of war pounded against the golden shoreline in the dead of night and the light of day. Light where no man could see, sound where no man could hear, life where no man could breath. In the west it swallowed all light, in the east it birthed anew. Never calmed, yet constantly still. Always moving, never the same. Constantly amending, remaining unchanged. No description could truly capture it's mysterious majesty, yet only a few words could express it's beauty.

Jack knew it would be a rough passage home. The sea was too placid for a sanguine moon. There was a storm a-brewing.

The boat began to roll from side to side and the temperature dipped all of a sudden. Dark clouds obscured the moon. They churned grimly in the night sky, as black as a witch’s Sabbath. The moon’s mercury flush was painted silver by the thunderheads, casting down shivers of light with a ghostly glow. Underneath the moon, the rain moved towards him like a wraith’s veil of sorrow. A winnowing wind fermented and sighed, rippling the surface of the corpse calm sea.

His boat heaved and tossed in the rising swell and he gripped the tiller with his naked fingers. He could just make out the figure of his wife standing on the shingled beach, lamp raised aloft to guide him home. Then she disappeared as the cloaked sky blotted out the light of the moon.

The rain-shroud passed by, spitting at him with its undead tears. It wrung his hobbit curls into a mop and soaked his jerkin through. The rain whipped down like crystal nails and streaky lightning emblazoned the sky. The sea swells rose and his beard time froze as the north wind blew and sped him to his doom. Lacerating rain stung his bare arms like ice burn and the sea throbbed grey with woe.

His boat bobbed like a cork upon the capacious sea and for the first time ever, he felt his own mortality. The brine hissed and sissed, lashing his face, and he felt a fever in his eyes. His little boat keeled and tilted like the death flop of a mackerel. The timber planks buckled and bulged, then screamed and shuddered, but the boat righted herself once more.

The bedlam of the sea caused a hectic in his blood, but he could swear that an old man’s, spectral face was fixed in the sky where the moon should be. It wore a mask of hatred and longing and it transfixed Jack utterly. He looked at it aghast, like a mooncalf would stare at the night sky. The old man’s eyes seemed to glare at the sea on his starboard side. Jack’s own eyes followed and slowly widened as he gazed down into a whirlpool opening and spinning beneath the boat. The words of his father came to him unbidden then: “There’s nothing worse than the dreadful curse lodged in a dead man’s eye.”

Jack became angry, trying to remember the rest of the advice. He knew it was important, but he couldn’t think with the tumult and the tempest.

Jack’s two hands gripped the tiller and refused to let go. His father’s words came back unbidden; “A true mariner never deserts a sinking ship.” He gripped on tighter. A mountainous wave rose up before him, blotting out the sky. The wind howled out his doom, the whirlpool span faster and whiter and the old man’s face leered down in triumph.

The boat rose with the swell, inclining upwards to its destruction. It was propelled up onto the lip and hovered there, a fly-speck on the cobwebbed lines of the wave. Time seemed suspended. The whirlpool gaped under him with dire-white jaws. It roiled and spun, inviting Jack in. Then the boat plummeted down into its milky depths, swallowed whole in a final, terrible, squeak of timber.

Hear, Aesis, ruler of the sea profound, whose liquid grasp begirds the solid ground; who, at the bottom of the stormy main, dark and deep-bosomed holdest they watery reign.

Aesis' boom laden laughter shook the very foundations of the world, the sea responding to his giddiness with roiling waves and incessant rain. He derived pleasure from the little things in his realm. Every sinking ship, every sailors scream, every crushing wave, every childish squeal of joy when the cool tide washes over thier little toes. For hundreds of years the sea king kept to himself, watching and indulging. The Rebellion had tired him, lulling him into a silent stupor, giving mortals rest from his raging waves.

Only death roused him from his nigh-slumber. Death wasn't kind. Aesis knew that. It snatched where it could, taking people who were far too young, far too good. It didn't pretend to care, it didn't pretend to distinguish. The hooded vale of death had hung over the world for a long time, always threatening. It had never touched Aesis quite so close. Death had ripped away a part of all his brethren, the part of him that was most loved. Now Aesis sat staring for hours, happiness soaking right into his bones. He closed his eyes and savoured the feeling, but never released his grip on the seemingly inconsequential piece of reality that now would decide his future. For the first time in forever his body and mind relaxed.

Father was dead.

He suddenly let out a boisterous laugh, rain falling in crazy chaotic drops, the gusting wind carrying them in wild vortices one moment and in diagonal sheets the next above the home of the King. Torrents of water traveled through and into the throne room, rushing waves that smashed and surrounded the room, keeping its inhabitants dry. A cyclone of waves turned and twisted in the massive throne of rainbow colored coral, a bubble of water surround it perpetually as Aesis body condensed and formed.

Aesis blue tinged muscular body settled into the throne, his white beard soaking in his makeshift pool. He regarded his shield-brother Ferrum, and his loving enemy, Oksana. A pristine white smile formming on his face upon seeing his sisters wet, tear stained face. "Are you crying sister?" he mused. "And you shield-brother, does sadness gnaw on your soul? This isn't a night for mourning." he jibbed, shaking his head as a piranha nipped at his fingers lovingly.

---

---

With a final swing of her scythe, the Sun Goddess sent the final soul, free of its vessel, towards the afterlife, to be judged by the God of Death. With the body falling to the ground, its bestial groans now silent, the Lady Reaper sighed. Such sorrow, dreadful work but such was her punishment for her sin of the Curse of Hallows. The irony of having to kill her own children as punishment for creating them always hung in the back of her heart but she did her duty, it was only just.

“Farewell my child, may death finally embrace thou and release thy curse.” Ilyona ran her hand through her locks, the light shimmering off of her hair. With a gentle touch, the deity’s hand hovered over the Soulset Scythe, it too glowed but it did not glow the ethereal gold which so much of her other belongings did but instead twas a deep amethyst with an unsettling chill; not even Ilyona’s innate sunlit warmth could not dispel the shivering edge.

“My Maiden,” Lady Malicia kneeled before the Herald of Dawn, her cadre of fellow hunters dressed in similar garb following the actions of the Life Hunter, “I do believe we hath cleared this locale.” Cloaked in black, many would have never believed such a sinister figure would be a champion of the sun, even if she did wield a pair of enflamed blades in the name of Ilyona.

“Thou art right I do believe, this hunt has ended. Thou hath done well.” Ilyona raised her hand, a glistening halo began to swirl around it. Within seconds an orb formed as she closed her fist before it exploded with a flick of her wrist.

“May the light cleanse the shadows by blessings most divine.” Lady Malicia and her hunters muttered in devout prayer as the sphere of light expanded with the softest tinkling of distant bells. Bursting into shimmering shards of sunlight upon completion, the area had been purified by the light of Ilyona’s blessings, the hunt was officially over, “Let us retire to Lindenhold, my children beckon for me once more.”

Focusing her mind, the goddess turned her scythe into a tuning rod into a staff, perhaps a mockery of her former staff, the Great Banner of Dawn. Infusing the purple wisps of the blade with golden misty fog, Ilyona slashed the air a head of her, cutting a portal to her throne room in Kharstav, using its great beacon of light to guide her.

With her loyal hunters, her feet transitioned from the soft dirt of the outside to the pure chiseled marble tiles outlined in fine gold on the floors of her royal keep. A stunning autorium it was, fit for a queenly mother with enough room for an audience to meet her. A few chosen hallows officials lumbered and mulled about, doing whatever they had to keep the Haven of Hallows running. A guard patrol of Spartans Solaris marched by in their polished amber armor and illuminous circular shields, taking a moment to kneel as their goddess walked out of her portal.

In the distance, golden bells danced in the high mountain winds that brought shinning warmth instead of the usual frigid peak winds of most mountains. Through great windows streamed in rays of sun, perfectly tuned by engineers and Sun Mages over years of tinkering to grant just the right amount of the eternal Lindenhold sun through to bring just enough light to illuminate the already illustrious hall without it being blinding. And in the center stood a great set of angelic plate armor covered by a pure white hooded tabard, streams of blue rays floated in the air behind it.

“My Maiden, welcome back.” Ilyona’s second demigod champion, Talvyrn the Dawn Guard, put his hand over his heart and nodded slightly, “How was thy cleansing harvest?”

“Fine as per usual, nothing of note; Lady Malicia and her huntsmen have done a fine job in assisting.” Ilyona smiled slightly and beckoned Talvyrn to resume a straight posture, “Doth ye have any news for me?”

“I do, one of the Guardians of Heavens hath delivered thou a summons to the Heavenly palace.”

“And they haven't sent one to me personally?”

“I am not sure but I would assume so.”

“Well, beast hunts are isolated, solitary activates, it could easily be that I forgot or never acknowledged it.”

With graceful strides, Ilyona walked over to one of the many fountains and looked at the reflection which stared back at her. As the spigot poured crystal waters unto itself, the goddess looked at herself in a moment of introspection. What sins she carried, it twas her undead children, born of a too kind and caring heart, which she thought was her greatest, but as of late it was the rebellion or more specifically, War. Not the act of conflict, but the God of War which she had struck down with her Soulset Scythe, spirit still lingering in its swirling void, unable to pass on due to its once holy, divine nature.

“My Maiden, perhaps we ought to depart.” Talvyrn appeared over the crouched shoulder of Ilyona, only just taller than the goddess.

“Yes… lets.” Channelling the light of the Ascention Beacon, a ray of pure blessed light that stretched from the heavens to the earth was caught in the goddess’ scythe-staff as a light blinded the Mother of Hallows and her two champions. Once again using her Beacon as a northern star, the three found themselves in the palace of the gods, next to the shinning throne of finely carved white stone with golden amber details, small figures reaching up towards a symbol of a sun with an infinite number of rays.

It seemed that three others had already arrived, two of the old rebels, oath sworn brothers in arms of the Gods of the Forge and the Seas, and then the sister goddess Oksana. “Greeting you three,” Ilyona nodded towards them all, “Glad to see two of you continuing on but what troubles you Oksana?” Radiating her normal gentle warmth, she approached the other goddess, hoping that Ferrum and Aesis did not hold her to how she was the one who dealt the deathblow to the God of War.

A familiar sound drifted through the twisted forest of Elkesis, a sound of labored breathing and heavy footfalls. A good creeped between the tress, deep in his own mind pondering the suffering of the world. He thought of those still in bondage he could not save, the wretched lost and alone in the world who payed him homage. He shed tears of blood for the souls he could not lead to his oasis in Elkesis. His footfalls were pain as he focused upon his own as well as others, the cruel spurs and spikes on his bones scratching and cutting his skin inside and out. The feeling of warped bones creaking and bending with stress as his head ached from the cruel helmet fused to it... and yet he walked. Through brambles and vines lined with thorns he stalked, seemingly unaware of their existence.

This was his land after all. No beast would dare harm their God, their caretaker, their creator. Elkesis thrived about him, spined warthogs scurried away from him to find other prey. The largest among them bowed their heads before turning, knowing it was they who must pay homage. He moaned quietly in pain and anguish, listening to the souls in pain in his ears who he only wished to relieve their suffering. Trees seemed to part before him and plants almost bowed to this king of thorns.

Eventualy he heard the sounds of one of his free folk bands in a clearing. They danced about a great fire, singing praise and rejoicing even in this desolate land. Children born here laughed and played, and the oldest among them told stories of their scars and of the great god of pain, of Naqqash who walked amongst them. the living god of the free folk. A smile found its place upon Naqqash as these souls sang to him, reveling in their strength and past their great pains they danced in his image. Through the trees he came, to a great many gasps from his people as they bowed to their god. He walked to a large felled tree, the free folk crowding around him in awe as their god towered before them. The sound of bones creaking and skin tearing could be heard as the pale skinned god sat heavily on the black wood, a sigh of pain escaping his lips. He looked to his people, gesturing for them to sit.

All did, ears and eyes open to their lord, their savior. He was not one to dissapoint. "A tale, good folk, of chains I bring and the lash that sits above. A great old man who withered beneath,and prayed to the stars above. Not for mercy no, for this there was no plea, but for the strngth in his arms and the love in his heart to spred to others like he. He said to sky 'Take not my scars away, for you see good sky it is them that I must thank for the strength in me.' Our scars only make us all the stronger, for without them we would be less. Never forget your scars good folk, for they will never leave.", it was then the call of the guardian rang in his head, and Naqqash sighed once more as he stood and bid his people goodbye. In a flash of the moon he had dissapeared, leaving only the wonderous eyes of his folk, and the story he'd left behind.

---

Naqqash arrived in the hall shortly after Ilyona. What a dichotomy it was, for the radiant sun to be followed by grotesque thorns of the lesser god. No longer did he moan in pain or anguish, for now it no longer mattered. He did not ponder suffering and so his strength prevailed, and no pain could be felt by him. He looked about the room to all who had arrived. Oksana, slayer of his father and the one who so vehemently oppsed the return of his center. Ferrum, a man who had stood by war in the rebellion but who Naqqash had met only briefly. Then there was Aesis, the braggart sea god who even now seemed to mock the death of his own father, Naqqash's granfather. He looked... odly peaceful for a dead king, Naqqash thought. Of course Ilyona stood not far from Naqqash, but he had hardly ever met the sun goddess, unsure what to think of her or the Guardian who sat at the head of the table next to the throne.

Naqqash quietly took his stance near thee end of the table, a bit behind his fathers old chair, where he could not sit... another slight for him to bear. He glanced only at Ferrum long wnough to give a nod of acknolwledgement, before finally speaking. His heavy voice carried well, but was strangely subdued nonetheless, "Hello. I am humbled to meet here once more, though the circumstance is... painful. Granfathers loss is another burden to bear, and so I shall bear it, as must we all."

Ahru sat in solitude, cross legged atop a stack of crates likely filled with the fruits of her people's labor. Below she watched her subjects dance, her subjects that did not know they were her subjects, reveling in the delights of their abundant harvest. Ahru assured they would have cause to celebrate. In her mind they were celebrating the death of her Father, even though they were none the wiser of the happenings in the Heavens. Her Cloak of Night was draped over her, rendering her imperceptible to all. Usually she would be there dancing among them, them none the wiser that their patron God was by their side, but despite herself she did not have an appetite for their party. A voice sounded beside her, "Mother, I know you are here."

The fox could smell her, she knew. He had snuck up on her unaware while she was caught in the throughs of her own thought, taking a seat next to the God of Mischief. She would be just as happy to ignore him until he went away, but she knew that he would not stop pestering her. She would not avoid the conversation that she had dreaded.

"Reynard, what is it that you want?" The God asked, irritation sneaking into her voice.

The fox sighed. "Why are you up here? Should you not be celebrating with them? After all, you went through all the trouble of arranging their party. Should you not be happy? I know that Grandfather's death is cause for celebration to you." Reynard spoke his piece, and Ahru was hopeful that this was all he had to say. Ahru sighed in return. "You are right, the old man's death is a joyous occasion... but it also represents... how do I say this... a lost opportunity. Are you happy? I asked you not to disturb me, so I hope that you have some greater reason to be here than to check up on me."

The fox merely chuckled; he was beginning to grate on her and he knew it. "Well, there is something else, mother. Várlil... you know you can not let him rampage forever. He must be stopped." Ahru shook her head in response, "I fail to see how the concerns of mortals are mine. Let Várlil the Vile do as he pleases, it is not my job to stop every rampaging human." The fox was quick to return, anger beginning to rise in his voice, "Mother, you cannot pretend forever. He is you son, as am I. He is a demigod and it is our responsibility to stop him. The people of Jarenhold recognize that he is no ordinary human, they will find cause to blame their Goddess for his creation soon enough. Moreover, you must forgive yourself for Ort-" Ahru cut him off.

"Do not speak that name to me, Kitsune. If you wish to stop Várlil then go, I give you heed to do as you wish. This conversation is far too serious for the God of Mischief, so I bid you to farewell." Ahru's anger was clear. The God of Mischief was not often angry, and it was not a pleasant sight when she was.

Reynard frowned. "Very well. I fear I cannot best him by myself and would ask for your assistance, but it is clear that I am not going to get it... there is one more thing, however." The Goddess's patience was wearing thin. "Speak quickly, then." The fox nodded, "I am sure that you will be called to the Heavens soon to sit upon the Council of Gods. You have no retinue to come with you, no servants or subjects that would follow, allow me to accompany you mother. The other Gods surely bring followers, it would please me greatly if you would allow bid me to come."

The Goddess looked over at the fox. She pulled off a part her cloak, leaving only her face visible. Her eyes burned with anger. "Is that what you had to tell me? Leave. At once." The fox nodded. He would still follow his mother's orders in spite of himself. Reynard allowed himself to fall to the ground, scampering off quickly into the crowd.

What an unbefitting display for a God such as I. Such seriousness is not like me. She knew in her heart that it was because of her own guilt that she allowed herself to show such anger; she would rather pretend she had no children at all.

The call to the Heavens came not long after. She was eager to see the old man dead, at the very least. Eager even more for the chance to dance upon his gravestone, but that would wait until her siblings were out of sight so as not to attract their ire. As suddenly as she had been in Alarah she was gone, appearing in the Heavens with great flourish, a retinue of brilliant blue butterflies appearing beside her, fluttering away into nothingness. She enjoyed making an entrance.

She looked across the room. Some of her siblings had already arrived. She called to each of them in turn "Ferrum! Aesis! Ilyona! It is good to see you. And... Oskana too, huh... what a... delight?" Her voice clearly soured as she noticed Oskana, but soon brightened again, "Naqqash! Nephew, what a treat to see you at our council." She strode over to the boy, meeting his eyes readily. Many would flinch at his grotesque appearance but she did not. She beckoned for him to lower himself to her level so she could whisper, "I am sure you will make a great God, nephew." The words of encouragement were low enough that the others could not hear. She had an uncharacteristic soft spot for the newly made God. She then wheeled around to face the diamond coffin that lay in the center of the room. "And how could I forget to say hello to the guest of honor?" She said to herself, low enough so that the others would only hear it as a mumble. She strode over to the coffin. To think, he is truly dead. What a fortuitous day today is. She thought to herself. She had to suppress her smile; she had done a good job of keeping her ire towards her father a secret from the others and she would not reveal it now, lest they turn on her.

She turned back around to face her throne, which was much smaller than the others in the room, made to match her mortal form. It was an intricately carved wooden chair displaying honed craftsmanship, but was simple in comparison to some of the others.

“Well yes, aha… Chane, I believe you have me stumped.” The disguised god returned a laugh to the baker once more, he too continuing his work cheerfully.

As the baker began organize loaves of bread to be put into the oven, a knock came from the door. Before he could even turn around to greet whomever had entered, a much taller woman clad in armor stepped into the bakery. Chane quickly set down the loaves in his hand to greet the Demigod with a folding of his hands and a quick bow. “Madam Vespira, I didn't ex-”

“Pardon my informality but I'm afraid I might have to take Ospira with me outside of the city. I'll be sure to make sure my mother can make up for my rudeness and my taking your company.” The demigod was somewhat slouched over due to the height of the ceiling, as her gaze shifted to her disguised mother. She gave her mother a slight look of disappointment before turning to Chane.

The humble response of the baker was swift, somewhat of respect to one of the guardians of the city. “Of course. You don't have to, Ospira here was just helping me pass the time.” Chane looked over to Ospira with a bit of a questioning expression, then quickly speaking up, “You know Vespira?”

“Yes, pretty well actually. I mentioned I travel a lot, I often encounter her in Valas.” Ospira, as she was known to Chane and other people in the capital, stood up. Sword sheathed and slung over her shoulder, Ospira headed to the door. “Anyways, I'll be back, Chane. It'd be rude to keep a demigod waiting!” The goddess exclaimed cheerfully, before taking steps out of the door. Vespira followed closely behind, giving the baker a wave as the two exited the bakery.

“I'll have something for you ready next time!” Chane turned back to his bread, wondering how much adventure Ospira had left to share.

---

“You didn't have to pull me away, Ves.” Di’Myria looked up at the demigod, shaking her head ever so slightly. It was likely a bit of a far guess that this form actually was the Goddess of Time herself, though Ospira had a striking resemblance to Vespira.

“Yes, well, if leaving me to be late would be rude, how rude would it be being late to a family meeting?” The two of them were continuing their trek to the Sanctuary, which would give them enough time to talk.

“If they haven't changed that much within the past four hundred years, I think we might be some of the first to be there. Okay? Great! And besides, Ves, give it a break. We’re going to be stressed out for about a month for these meetings.” Ospira pulled her hair back before looking up to the skies. “Let me have my time away from my thoughts, is that alright child…?” The Goddess’s true emotion of mourning had slipped through the guise of Ospira, and her daughter noticed.

“Yes mother. Kiroas awaits us.” Vespira had enough respect for her mother not to criticize her in a moment like this, though internally had her distaste. Her mother’s timeliness had always been an issue, her mother’s constant amalgamation with the mortals… Though now that she was here, it was time for a bit of respect.

“Thank you. One your aunts always tries her best to remind me to take time off, and one of your uncles always comes to me for assistance in doing so. Now, we head to the Sanctuary, then to The Heavens.” With a quick flash into her own time-sphere, Di’Myria shifted into her proper goddess form, though instead of instantly returning back into real time, Di’Myria took a moment to breathe. She thought it suiting to take a moment to think before properly heading to the Sanctuary, although now she was stuck for a moment of a loop.

Her father and several of her siblings had always mentioned to her that taking too much time to think was what was going to end up killing her in the end. For the last half of her lifetime, she had been working on taking much, much more time to herself and enjoy her people. Thanks to most of her siblings, she had changed for the better, but now felt the strongest solemnity tied closely with her mourning. She could spare these strong emotions for when she was next to her father’s death bed.

Now was the time to continue on, as Di’Myria flashed back into real time. The Goddess continued her step, looking down to her daughter as the two of them continued their steps upward. The Sanctuary was about a quarter of the way up the path, though their home was up on the top of the path, yet not at the top of the mountain. Just high enough to overlook the interconnected cities.

“Are you alright, mother?” Vespira looked to Di’Myria’s eyes, which somewhat expressed a short bout of pain. She didn’t quite want to address the fact that she noticed her mother taking a slightly extended second to change appearances, though at this point it didn’t matter.

“Yes, I’m fine.” The rest of the walk was taken up quietly, as the two of them had only a handful of steps. Their pace had shifted from Myria matching her daughters to the opposite, Di’Myria then turning to her daughter as they stepped into the Sanctuary. The Sanctuary’s basic design was as of a very large marble gazebo with a relatively small floor clock in the center of the floor, with the words ‘In Tribute to our Goddess, Di’Myria’ engraved around the clock. This clock in particular had much smaller pillars but still worked perfectly fine, as was designed my Di’Myria.

Awaiting their arrival, Kiroas stood up on edge of the Sanctuary, gazing down into the cities below. “Mother, Sister, you’re late.” He turned towards the two of them, bowing his head as the sound of his armor’s movements was the only thing heard for the moment.

“Glad to see you in good shape, Kiroas.” Di’Myria acknowledged her son without acknowledging the lateness, pulling the necklace off of her neck. The several rings began to spin around each other, before Di’Myria closed her eyes for a few seconds.

“Somewhat, though you can’t blame me for Mother.” Vespira stood next to her brother as the two of them share an expression of both irritation and understanding. That is that they both understood each other, not Myria. As the air shifted slightly, the Clockwork Medallion started spinning, the three stepped to the center of the Sanctuary, Kiroas on her Right, Vespira on her Left. The large pillars holding up the roofing had a faint glow around them, with the breeze kicking up and a small sphere of distortion engulfing all of them.

The rings around the sphere disappeared promptly, with the sphere itself dispersing and leaving only the three in it’s place. Di’Myria prepared herself for the overwhelming formalities which approached her, knowing that this would be a solemn few days as things were sorted out between all of the gods. She took her steps forward as she glanced around at those who arrived. Other than siblings, she saw them as friends, allies. Of those present, she saw a constant punctuality, a sibling argument or two, a spell left unchecked, a dangerous inheritance, and a lighthearted joke. Distinct memories she kept close, something about all of her family. There were a few she would like to greet specifically, though after her dues are paid to her father.

Her two children stood at their respective sides of Di’Myria’s throne, which was marbled and with gold outlines, distinct pillar designs making the edges of the throne. On the top two corners were similar rings to the Medallion, though static as Di’Myria wasn’t sitting down. An oddity presented itself, on the foot of the throne was a clock which seemed to be both flat yet working perfectly fine, illustrating its own shadows on the flat surface.

Di’Myria stepped to the coffin, though waiting behind those who had shown up before her. She would have her turn. As she stood there, Myria muttered a quiet ‘thank you’ under her breath, then addressing the gods around her. “Good day to you all. I hope you all have been well.”

“Ferrum, brother, I think you and I should spare a minute or two during an intermission.” She looked one of the taller siblings, with a gentle nod of compassion sent to him, before she turned to Ahru. “Sister, pardon me if I might be less energetic for the time being, and I shall do the same for yoou.” A smile turned to her before Di’Myria stepped back from the coffin. Others will have their moments now, but Di’Myria would have her time given enough space. She only would need a few seconds, but she could easily turn that into half an hour. For now, Di'Myria shifted her gaze on the other chairs, seeing who would approach next, and giving those surrounding the coffin their time and space around it.

Pestering words began to ring out inside her mind. She groaned at the distraction and she pushed herself up to her knees on the bed and moved out from under the blanket; wiping her lips dry of Autumn's dew. Focusing now more onto the annoying voice echoing in her head she was finally able to make out what it was saying.

"...to the throne room for the Kings funeral. All must attend." the message ended. She didn't get all of it but just the important parts. She groaned to herself as she crawled out of bed fully, her body naturally growing back from its mortal size and into its Godly size. "Go on now Autumn. Our fun is over for now." Ki'ivara instructed to the naked woman sprawled across the bed Ki had just left.

The petite girl whined in disappointment before rolling out of bed and leaving the room. With a glimmer of light appearing around her body her normal, minimal attire suddenly formed around her body; the long white and blue accented back of her dress cascading down. Her body swayed beautifully across the room with each step towards the large mirror. She looked herself over, fixing her sex hair into its elegant drape down her shoulders.

This was something she hoped to avoid. She didn't want to address the death of her father. Ki'ivara was a creature of pleasure. She had no interest in solemn gatherings. She almost considered bringing some of her priestess' to liven the whole thing up. Though that would be near impossible with the Guardian around. What a blasted buzz kill he was.

Satisfied her appearance was proper she took a deep breath, letting her entire body relax. From her feet up they began to dematerialize into a mix of blue and white energy.

Through the ground next to Oksana's throne the very same blue and white energy swirled up and with a bursting flash Ki'ivara materialized; sitting on the arm of her throne, facing Oksana. With a devious grin across her pale pink lips she leaned down towards her before she could react. Leaning in to the point her lips were inches from her ear.

"Hello, My pet." She breathed in a sensually whisper, ending her words with a light bite to her ear lobe. Before Oksana could retaliate Ki was already gone. Having spun off the arm and walking away gracefully swaying with each step; taking a look back at Oksana and giving a devilish grin.

Finally giving a look to the rest of the room she took particular note of everyone in attendance. Not everyone was here, giving herself some relief not to be the last to arrive. Without wasting anymore time she ascended the stairs to the coffin where her father lay, peacefully stoic. She stood there silent for a moment, looking down at his unflinching stature. It was almost like he were still alive; except for the faint look of disapproval - even though she was his creation he still happened to be disapproving. But she still loved him all the same. She leaned down a bit into his casket, gently cupping his cheek into her soft hand. She leaned further in and place a soft, loving kiss to his forehead. "Good bye, father.." She softly whispered in a sweet, genuine tone. Uncharacteristically of the Goddess of Lust. To show true emotion. She wiped her eyes before standing back up, composing herself once again.

She turned back to the room, facing little Myria. She flashed her normal, brilliantly beautiful smile. She walked down to her, wrapping her in her arms nice and tight. "Hello my little Myria!" She cooed sweetly, pressing herself nice and tight into the other girl; making sure every curve pressed against Myria. After a long moment she released Myria from her arms and smiled, "We must catch up later." Ki insisted in her soft, silk voice before moving away and too her throne - a beautifully twisted throne of vines and flowers. She sat down among the beautiful flowers and let the vines contort to her figure into perfect comfort.

It was another blistering hot morning in Drake Valley, on a near summit cave on the tallest mountain, lies a pile of gold and treasure, monstrously huge, and stacked like a heap of sand. On top of this pile, the great Dragon King himself slumbered, Writhing in his sleep over piles of gold and gems "No.." He moaned eyes closed, rolling to one side in an almost violent matter. "No, no, no! Damn you Ferrum, this is not the en-!" He cut himself off as he woke up in a cold sweat. So long ago had that wretched event occurred, so long ago did he awaken from that cruel and ironic prison, but without a godsbane what was he to do for revenge? Yell at him and hope he kicks over? Kilgarrah stroked the hair on his chin as he was now back in reality, another day over his kingdom of hellish fire and jungle. Far from the more glorious cities of his kin. Though the vast amounts of wealth he hoards, and sleeps upon, makes up for the lack of much civilization.

His thoughts were broken when he heard a loud thud. Instinctively, Kilgarrah grew into a massive biped dragon, sprawling over his treasure hoard with protective greed. "Who dares approach the lair of Kilgarrah, the progenitor of dragons?!" He bellowed in his monstrous form, careful to not allow the flames building up inside his veins to melt his precious hoard. A familiar, armored figured approach. Equipped with a lance and sported wings on his back. "Father, forgive my intrusion." The armored figure spoke with a humble attitude, bowing before his fire. Recognizing his demi-god, Kilgarrah stepped off of his treasure hoard and came closer to his son, though kept his monstrous form. "Ah, William! It is good to see you have paid visits to your creator, what is it thy desire?" The once cruel and savage beast became more compassionate and endearing in a moment's flash. William looked up to his draconic father and continued. "There is a council of your fellow Gods being hosted, it is mandatory for you to attend.

Kilgarrah leaned back. "I have to see him again" Narrowed his glowing, reptilian eyes, his tail would swing across a heap of gold as unpleasant thoughts of both Ferrum and some other siblings that were equally hated would naturally be there. The only thing he had to look forward to was seeing dear Oksana again. Seeing his father in distraught, William Assured, "I have come to accompany you as well, father." "Come then, my son." His massive tail would wrap around William before they were both converted into a crimson energy, that took off out of the cave with a firey wave of wings following the energetic form.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Moments after the arrival of Ki'ivara, A bright crimson flame bolted the entrance to the hall of the gods. From the flame, stood Kilgarrah alongside William, armored to the teeth. For a brief moment Kilgarrah had the silhoutte of a draconic figure, but that soon shrunk into his normal, mortal-like appearance. William walked alongside his father, as he made his way to his throne. Before so, he stopped to give a bow to the current gods that where present, even in the presence of the gods he despised. He then gave a smile to Oksana. "I have come as soon as possible, what is the news?" As he spoke, he took a seat at his throne. The throne itself was an ebony black, made from what seemed like blackened marble. The arms had to skeletal spines of dragons with their skulls burning fire from their eye sockets. The top of the chair had a much larger dragon skull that hang just above Kilgarrah. Two crossed swords were embedded in the back of the throne, with the blades reaching over the chair's height. William stood just beside Kilgarrah's throne in a vigilant possession, Lance wielded firmly and planted in the floor.

Summer nights on the coast of Tarren lent themselves perfectly to evening parties. The heat of the desert clung to the humidity of the tropical shoreline, leaving the air warm long after the sun was gone. Even when the cold came, the people would be filled with enough cheer and drink to notice it’s arrival. They were Janin’s favourite evenings for hosting; the stone courtyard of the palace was filled with music and laughter as people drank and gambled under fruit trees and firelight. The goddess herself remained in her true form, taking pleasure in the looks of fear and awe the appearance stirred in her guests. She made quite a sight, towering over most who even stood beside her seated form, a gold circlet around her head and abundance of matching jewelry that flashed and chimed with every moment.

“My father believes there may be even more workable land on the other side of the mountain, not the desert of course, but just under the cliffs...” The girl pushed against Janin’s side had a beautiful smile, but the conversation had grown tedious moments after it started. Janin had long since been watching a game of dice taking place to her left in favour of listening. They were quite obviously loaded to the observers, but the losing man had become too drunk to notice, and was trying to shake coin out from his empty purse.

“Is that a cat?” The shrill voice of her companion drew attention again, sure enough a small black cat was resting on her lap. It was an accustomed enough feeling it had gone unnoticed, she filled her glass again, glaring at the animal. The cat in turn began kneading her thigh, purring gently. The woman reached for it and had her hand slapped away with what was possibly more force than necessary when used on a mortal. Janin stood with her wine, clutching the cat by the nape of its neck with her free hand, and walked from the music and laughter into her palace. Slaves lined the entrance, and only watched as their mistress passed through the halls to her private rooms, here it was silent enough the only sound was her own jewelry and bare footsteps on stone.

Her room was large and open, three walls that opened to a second, much smaller courtyard than the one she had come from, shielded only with thin curtains, allowing the breeze to pass in. There were few furnishings for a room of such size, but all elaborately decorated, and most seemed to grow from the floor itself. The desk, wardrobe, lounge and bed where all fashioned from sandstone, with various images of animals, instruments, and humans carved in. Red and while fabrics draped from the ceiling, and matching cushions covered the lounge and bed. The walls where the focus of attention; all were covered in murals, depicting Janin’s coming into being and her various deeds, some sorties more exaggerated than others. The east walls depicted Janin taming the desert with music, charming Desin into her service and using him to raise mountains to protect her people from exposure and the dreaded Scorpios. Janin sat on the only piece of wooden furniture; a velvet-lined chair to sit opposite the stone desk, and dropped the cat to the floor.

As Alek fell she changed back to her usual human shape, rubbing the back of her neck as she walked towards the small heap of clothing in the center of the room, her mother resumed drinking, good humor gone.

“I am sorry mother but this is important,” Janin looked past her daughter, cool glass pressed again her flushed cheeks. The room was wavering and murals blurring, making it harder to focus on her daughter’s words, she already missed the loud sounds and distractions.

“The guardian is sending summons.” Alek finished dressing herself, “Rieth is dead.” Whatever reaction she was expecting never came. Janin closed her eyes, suddenly feeling very drunk and very tired. It was expected, but that did not make the news any more welcome. Meetings with the gods could take months, and that was with Rieth’s oversight. She considered for a moment the consequences of not going, missing the first few days or so wouldn’t mean much, forgoing the preliminaries and polite niceties everyone would play at before falling back to old patterns and revisiting old wounds.

“Cai” Quiet footsteps approached the goddess, and a slave in a white robe came to stand beside her, looking to the ground. Someone had hit the girl, and the wonderful symmetry of her face that Janin had chosen her for was spoiled by a swollen purple bruise just above the eye.
“We will be leaving within the hour.” The girl nodded and left the room quickly. Alek remained standing in the center of the room, hands clasped.

“What is it Alek?”
“Olek, he- he should be with us” This earned a snort of laughter.
“You want him to come along? Of course! We’ll all go, holding hands and pay great respect to the old man’s corpse. Will you weep at the sight child? I know it’s been centuries since you’ve seen your dear grandfather.” Alek remained silent, but did not move.

“I have a gift for you.” Janin finished the last of her drink before reaching to the heavy purse on her hip, and procuring a small key. She used it unlock a small gold box on the desk, which opened to reveal a small medallion-shaped bronze piece.
“Mother I-“ Alek stopped, and was suddenly kneeling before her, head bent.

“It is called an astrola-astro-” Janin blinked, and gave up. “it is for charting by stars or some nonsense. Too small for functional use but it is important to me you have it.” She pressed the trinket into the girl’s palm, who touched it with reverence. “I need you to keep it safe while we’re gone.”

“Of course” She closed her other hand around it and stood again. “But what of Olek?”
“I don’t know where your brother is and he has made it perfectly clear I am not to find him. He’ll hear of the summit and come if he wills.” She stood, leaned on the desk for a moment, and waved her hand dismissively, the subject was closed for the time being.

“I will take you back here to search for him if you like, but for now we leave” Cai re-entered the room at that moment, carrying a sword, lyre, and chalice with some difficulty; everything being made for a being more than twice the girl’s height. Janin took them without a word and stepped to the center of the room with her daughter. Alek nodded, still clutching her new gift in a grip tight enough to whiten knuckles. Janin looped the sword across her back, handed Alek the lyre to carry under an arm and took a long drink from the chalice before taking her daughter’s free hand with her own.

Teleportation after heavy was never a particularly good idea. Whatever dignified entrance she had hoped to make was lost when she appeared directly behind the very wet, occupied seat of Aesis. There was a brief moment of swaying, and steadying on the part of Alek before she managed to move into the circle of thrones. There were more empty than full, but most of those that would come had already arrived, spaced between memories of the dead. Janin barely looked at the coffin before striding across the room.

“Ki’ivara, it has been too long,” she smiled and stopped to briefly embrace her sister before moving on. She spared only the briefest glance at Naqqash as she past his twisted form, not bothering to hide her revulsion at the sight.
Her own ‘throne’ was built for comfort rather than to display power, the seat was wide enough for her to lounge and festooned with red and gold pillows. The left armrest extended further than the right, a perfect place to rest her chalice.

“Arhu,” she acknowledged, raising the glass toward the goddess and drinking deeply as she seated herself as comfortably as possible. The sight of two of her more favoured kin was almost enough to lift Janin’s spirits again. Small feet crawled along her back to rest around her neck, Alek had chosen the form of a ferret, apparently having already found a suitable spot to hide the astrolabe and clothing, the holy lyre and weapon were already resting again the leg of the seat. She brushed the creature away from her face, but made no serious effort to remove her from her perch.

Xsar sat on a stair case that ran between the walls of a corner going nowhere. he sat on the top step, defying gravity, pondering the news he had just heard. He had a feeling that it was true, but then again it might be another hallucination, but then again it might actually be a message, but then again... "oh this is just too confusing" he said out loud mostly to himself, "but- No!" He stood and walked left, or what would be down the stairs from his perspective. He reached the wall and stood there several feet off the ground as if trying to remember how to navigate his own house, which is exactly what was happening.

As if struck by a blow he seemed to remember that he was using the wrong directions, to which he fell the several feet to the actual ground. "right then" he said as he stood, and marched off towards the library to see his daughter. Before long, taking several staircases that ignore rules like, gemometry, or phsyics, or sanity for that matter Xsar reached the Library and greeted his daughter Quelana who sat behind a large desk with a servant girl reading a thick dusty tome to her. Xsar heard something about the mating preferences of salmon... He shrugged, "My dear Quelana"

"Father!" she said brightly but weakly, she beamed in his general direction unable to be entirely sure of the direction as she was blind. "Nora was just reading to me about fish, they are so interesting"

Xsar paused, he couldn't remotely think of what he wanted to know about fish, "Where is your brother?"

"He is in the lower levels guarding the rift, as always." she replies, still beaming.

Xsar nods, and produces the small amber sphere to teleport himself down to the rift.

-Womp-

Xsar disappears leaving a pair of footprints in a mild dusting of powdered sugar on the floor of the library... He still wasn't sure why that happened. Sugar wasnt a reagent for a teleportation spell was it?

-Womp-

Xsar appears directly in front of the Gate Keeper, who's boots are now also dusted with sugar. "Son, we must-"

"None Shall Pass" he says flatly

"Yes, very good. but we must go to the service for your grandfather" Xsar says

The Gate Keeper says nothing, which was normal. The extent of his madness was rather crippling, believing that saying anything except when he had to would mean he would run out of words. Which, after a brief explanation made perfect sense to Xsar. He reached out and touched his son on the shoulder and teleported again.

-Womp-

the pair appeared at the foot of the tomb, several feet away. Xsar held up his arm in greeting, while trying to make something interesting happen and make his enterence spectacular. He was aiming to conjure a small flock of doves, or ravens or something to fly away from him in a very picturesque way. Unfortunately he thought of the Salmon that his daughter was reading about in that moment, making his conjuration cause several dozen fish to appear around him and fall to the floor to flop around. 'close enough' he thought

"Greetings Family!" he shouted while standing in a circle of flopping fish before making his way to his throne. His throne, made of the lowest quality wood and iron was little more than any other chair at a table of a poor family, the only difference is that the wood shifts its color randomly like paint being endlessly poured over it. On his way to the throne he stops to greet Janin, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

Roars of bloodthirsty cheering and the stamping of feet on stone carried into the air and out into the city as a crowded Coliseum watched a fierce battle between a group of eight humans and four centaurs. The centaurs had the advantage of speed on the humans as they continued to run in circles around the humans who had formed a shield circle to protect themselves from the savages. Swords flashed in the torch light that illuminated the cavern as the centaurs would dash in to try and break up the shields but would only get cut for their effort. Eventually one of the humans couldn't take being trapped and broke formation to try and take out one of the centaurs only to get swarmed by the other three and quickly cut down.

Another ten minutes passed between the two forces before the remaining five humans were brought to their knees in front of the crowd with four bloodied centaurs standing over them with swords still in hand. At this moment all the cheering fell quiet as all eyes turned toward a dais that overlooked the blood soaked field where Azo'tet appeared looking down at the warriors. "You all have fought bravely. I welcome your souls to their new home as you will not be forgotten." The Lord of Death told the men on the field who held their heads high until they couldn't anymore. Azo'tet watched as the centaurs finished up the humans to the cheers of the crowd and left the arena before he turned around and headed back to the shadows of his perch over the arena.

"Father, I assume that you received the summons from the guardian as well." The voice came form the far end of the dais that was not touched by the blue flamed torches. Into the light stepped the four armed son of the Lord of death carrying with him one of the two God Bane items that was available in Kalian.

Azo'tet picked up his weapon from its place against the wall before even acknowledging that his son was standing in the same room as him. "We will both have to go pay our respects to the old man and keep up appearances with the others. I trust that you got the item I asked you to get." Morgrim nodded and gestured to the silk pouch that hung from his hip as cheers rose once again from the crowd as new fighters entered the arena. "Let us go before we are late." Morgrim joined his father's side as smoke started to surround them and than they were gone and on their way to the meeting that would decide everything.

A swirling pillar of smoke rose from the ground behind Death's throne soon revealing the two from Izamo. Morgrim silently handed the silk pouch to Azo'tet before going to stand next to his father's throne while keeping an eye on the rest gathered. Azo'tet walked past the rest of his siblings and up to the coffin where Rieth lay in rest. The lord of death reached into the pouch to produce a soul stone the size of a boulder that was lit from the inside with a golden light. "I thought a pure soul would be a good companion for the rest of eternity." He said under his breath as he placed the stone inside the coffin before turning around and looking at the gathered gods.

Azo'tet always felt like an outside when gathered with the rest of the gods as his domain was not a pleasant one to deal with. There was also the other matter that he had not taken part on either side of the rebellion and had instead helped to pick up the pieces after the dust had settled. The only god present that he had any close relationship with was Illyona and that felt more like a business agreement rather than a kinship.

He had fulfilled his duty to the last king and now made his way over to his throne to wait for everything to settle down. The throne of death was a large slap of obsidian that glowed with a swirling internal white light with grooves carved into it where Azo'tet could settle and still be comfortable.

As each God, and Goddess arrived Oksana did not move from her place among the thrones, rather she gave each of them a nod, and a simple held, sometimes a wave of her hand. She did however give Ilyona a bit of a smile, as well as giving one to Kilgarrah when she spotted his form. This reaction only changed when Ki’ivara appeared, and bit the lobe of her ear. Oksana suddenly looked angry, her eyes cutting to the side at the Goddess of Lust as she retreated back to her own place among the Gods. With a single wipe of her finger tips Oksana cleared away any saliva that Ki’ivara may have left behind, and flicked it onto the ground with a scowl.

When Oksana saw Naqqash though, her skin crawled, and she remembered her brother who she had so violently beheaded before. Feeling slightly ashamed to be in his presence, she turned her head away, not wanting to look at the Demi God she had orphaned. It was no secret that Oksana was vehemently against Naqqash taking the seat of Greed among the Gods, but was a secret was the fact she felt it was for Naqqash’s own good. Oksana firmly believed that no god should ever take the seat of Greed again, as it was that very domain that had helped lead War down the path of Rebellion.



An explosion of raw energy suddenly erupted across the room, everything turning a dark almost crimson red. A crackling ball of raw hate floated in midair for a moment, when suddenly materializing from the ball of energy stood Zadia, her arms spread wide, and standing tall above the others. She looked between all of them, and grinned wickedly at Naqqash. It was when her eyes fell upon the coffin that Zadia smiled the most though. Stepping rather heavily Zadia stood over her Grandfather’s corpse, and flexed a bit. “Finally dead.” She looked to the others. “The fool is finally dead, and the THRONE belongs to me! My father deserved the throne! So as his heir, it should go to me.”

Zadia turned, and began walking towards the throne, but not so much towards the throne, but reaching out to grab her father’s center of power. The Dagger was a symbol of war, and it glew a bright red the closer Zadia got to it. Her trip was cut short though as Oksana stood in the way suddenly, and glared at Zadia. The two facing off for a long moment as Oksana stared up at the four armed Goddess of Amazons

“You do not deserve your Father’s power Zadia, you are nothing like him… You are a shadow of his glory, and filled with hatred and arrogance.” That was when two of Zadia’s fists found Oksana’s face, and stomach sending her across the room to crash into a wall. Zadia began to follow, as if meaning to pummel Oksana more, but soon found herself flung like a Ragdoll into a pillar. Both Goddesses lay on the floor, staring at the Guardian who now stood. “This… Is not something I will allow in the Heavens. Battle does not wage here!” He shouted, his body becoming immense, larger than any of the Gods attending. All of them had been told by their Father Rieth, that the Guardian was the most powerful of any beings in existence, but was completely restrained by his oaths to only guard the Heavens, and to never seek out violence. “None of you may take the throne simply by sitting upon it. All of you have some part to play in who will become King. You know that whoever is to become king, must have collected every center of power, and placed it within the throne. Now... I have called you all here, so that you may see each other. Perhaps come to a peaceful conclusion as to who will ascend the throne.”

Naqqash watched the arrival of each of the Gods from behind his father's old chair. It was a gaudy, ridiculous thing in his eyes, made up of every precious metal and constantly changing its ornaments. Heavy jewlery piled about it, thick strands of gold and silver woven into a rich cushion on the seat, beautifully wrought marble armrests, it was never content to remain one fine material for very long. Naqqash stood beside it, though in and of itself he thought the chair was absolutely ludicrous, he was more interested in what it represented.

Equality. He didn't care about the powers of a Greater deity, or the influence it might bring him. Naqqash wanted to be heard. For his people to have a seat amongst the highest of courts so that he and they could not be ignored and trampled upon by those lucky enough to not have had their center taken from them. Even amongst the rebellion it was only those gods who had died that had lost their centers, and their heirs deprived of them as well. Ferrum had kept his, yet had rebelled. As had Ahru, and while Naqqash felt no ill will towards either it irritated him how vehemently his appeals were rejected each time these meetings happeened. Each time Oksana would stand against him, scolding his father for rebellion and Naqqash for blindly siding with his father. Naqqash would try to argue, claiming that any demigod would do the same for their parent... but the outcome never changed. Despite his respect for Naqqash Kilgarrah voted with Oksana, followed by most all the gods on that side of the rebellion and the king said the matter was over.

And so Naqqash stood in the sahdow of a dead father, a shadow he could not escape... but perhaps now was the time. He greeted those gods that bothered to greet him. He bent down heavily, skin tearing and bones creaking though he seemed to pay them no heed, smiling beneath his helmet at her kind words and returning, "If they would ever give me the chance aunt.", and leaning back up. Janin received as good as she got, being one of the few gods Naqqash could claim to truly hate. From beneath his helmet a light snarl met her glare, the woman standing against all Naqqash stood for. She was a decadent slaver, and he could never undrestand how one as good hearted as Ahru could enjoy her venemous company.

Ki'ivara's entrance... confused Naqqash to an extent. In spite of himself, Naqqash naturally drew away from her on instinct, as if afraid to offend the Goddess of beauty with his... twisted form. He had fought her daughter during the war, comign to a stalemate with her before retreating... she had been good but like her mother made Naqqash shrink with their beauty against his sheer ugliness. Xsar... well he was Xsar. He was to... complex? No, he was too ridiculous for Naqqash to even consider him... well more than a relative. Naqqash like Kilgarrah, and gave him a slight bow, respecting him even if he often stood opposed to Naqqash. Azo'tet was always strange to Naqqash. Loss and death were a common occurrence together, but Azo'tet always seemed... lax to Naqqash. He knew little of Ilyona or Di'Myria, giving them nods of welcome.

Now Zadia... that was entrance Naqqash would not soon forget. A fellow orphan of the rebellion, similarly denied her rightful center, Naqqash had always felt a kinship with her, and her entrance surprised him. The room darkening, a ball of hate... what was that grin? she had stopped upon his twisted visage and visited some sort of... excited and insane smile. This was before she walked to take her center and... apparently the throne. For a moment Naqqash thought no one was going to stop her... before Oksana stepped in. The short bout, ended by the guardian was nonetheless jarring. Naqqash was transfixed until it ended... and decided he would be the first to speak up in the following silence. "The Guardian is right. To fight here is... disrespectful. We should discuss... and find our new king in peace if at all... possible yes?", he spoke in his wet, ragged gasping voice torn from tortured lungs and throat, as if each word pained him to speak. If such was the case, he showed it not.

Ahru sat in silence as the rest of her kin filtered in. She only moved to respond to those that acknowledged her, unusually contemplative and reserved considering her usual behavior. She merely sat on her throne, observing those who entered and returning the occasional greeting. She acknowledged Di'Myria's greeting with a nod and a smile, happy that her sister, and by extension the others, seemed unaware of her contempt for their father. As Ki'ivara entered Ahru in truth felt slightly snubbed as she walked past, the Goddess of Lust making no move to greet her; the Goddess of Mischief could certainly be a petty creature at times, and Ahru had expected Ki'ivara to greet her as she did Di'Myria. Next came Kilgarrah, whom Ahru knew had little regard for her. Despite this Ahru certainly enjoyed tormenting the God of Dragons, who has become a regular target of her pranks. After him Janin made her entrance- Ahru wasn't surprised to see that she was more than a little drunk. Ahru was not offended- it came with the territory after all, as Janin was the God of Alcohol. Janin rose her cup to Ahru, and Ahru toasted back with an imaginary goblet of her own. And then came Xsar, ushered in by a retinue of salmon. Even after their time drinking together Ahru would never be able to figure out the God of Madness, and she quite frankly might prefer it that way. At least he was fun, which was more than she can say for many of her kin. Finally, and somewhat fittingly given his status in the God's social structure, came Azo'tet, who Ahru truthfully had little knowledge of despite being her sibling. He kept to himself which was sensible since most of their ilk were quick to disavow him.

And that was everyone, assembled. Almost everyone, at least... and therein lied Ahru's problem with this meeting. The appearance of Zadia.

War's daughter appeared in a flurry energy, suddenly and in a most unwelcome manner. Ahru glared at the newly made God- referring to her as such made bile rise in Ahru's throat- as she appeared. Zadia apparently reveled in her grandfather's death, I may be inclined to gloat as well, but I hope she stops her squalling soon, or I may stop her myself. Ahru thought to herself, ready for any excuse to provoke the fledgling God. Zadia's next move proved to be provocation enough, as she suddenly began to stride towards the King's throne. Apparently she had presumed to take her father's place, and saw that as reason enough to take Reith's seat as well. Ahru reached for the bow that should've been at her back, instead finding it absent. She hadn't elected to bring her weapon to what should've been a peaceful meeting, but she wished for it now. Thankfully Oskana- wretched Oskana, yet now in Ahru's eyes a savior- stopped Zadia's march. Ahru returned to her seat- with Oskana in her way Zadia surely would not get through. Surprisingly enough she managed to muster up enough force in her fists to send the Storm God flying, but the Guardian was quick to intervene, sending Zadia into a pillar of marble.

With The Guardian's plea for peace everything seemed to settle down. Ahru was glad to see Zadia flung around- hopefully there would be reason enough for more of that. The God of Mischief cleared her throat, making it clear she wished to speak. "Yes! Yes, yes, I agree, a peaceful solution is best... and, uh, to that end may I so humbly suggest that we remove Zadia from this meeting? Please?" She glanced to Oskana and The Guardian in turn, "Pretty please? She's made it clear she cannot hold council with us in peace, after all! We, uh, shouldn't tolerate her disrespectful actions in the presence of father's grave!" Now Ahru gave a sweeping glance across the assembled Gods, appealing them to support her. She made no effort to pretend that any of what she said was really the reason that she wanted Zadia gone- the others would already knew, her animosity towards the daughter of Kovar was well known, no one would be fooled regardless of how well she had lied. In fact, despite her ability to lie very well she was prone to displays like this, obvious deceptions with no effort put into them- it made it all the more unclear when she was actually lying.

The Forge God lowered himself into his throne slowly as Aesis, the King Kraken as Ferrum called him once centuries ago, for his mood could get as foul as those damnable creatures, his obvious glee at Father’s death grated on Ferrum, even if he had fought against him in the Rebellion of Kovar. With a slight smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, Ferrum nodded to his brother, tipping God-Smiter in his direction before laying it head first next to his throne, Krixis standing slightly in front of him to the left, Siani to the right.

“Sadness, brother?” he asked, his fingers tapping against the armored thigh, leaning against the side of his throne. “Am I sad that Father has passed? Yes, I am. Am I sad that it takes an occasion such as this for our family to come together? Yes, I am. Am I sad to see your cranky face again? Yes, I kind of am,”

He cracked his neck slowly as more gods appeared, Ilyona was the first, another kin-slayer, killer of Kovar himself, a feat that, while it sat ill with Ferrum, was one worthy of respect at least, to beat the God of War in battle, kind of ironic in his mind. His hand clenched again as he was reminded of his brother’s death, two kin-slayers of the “rebels” and two survivors of the “rebels”, didn’t Fate just enjoy its games with the Gods.

“Aye, we’re continuing, Sister,” he growled, slowly relaxing his hand.

Naqqash was next, the son of Greed, a horror on the eyes, one that someone could find revolting had they not the patience to see past his skin to the heart within. He despised slavery, he hated inequality, he had noble intents from what Ferrum had understood from the son of his rather distant brother, but orphaned regardless, leaving Ferrum to sometimes nudge things along had they targeted the young fledgling God. He returned the nod without a word, returning to drumming his fingers on his armor as they waited for their kin to arrive. To have a Demi-God appear so early was unexpected, but then again, Naqqash held a fair amount of pride of respecting others.

Ahru, Ferrum honestly smiled at her appearance, even though Krixis tensed at her arrival, the slightest clinking of his golden plate, Ferrum chuckled as he remembered the last prank that Krixis had suffered at the hands of Ahru, the mask of the Forgekin now sits mockingly in Ferrum’s personal vault, something that Krixis quietly hates him for, having forged it while under one of Ahru’s many pranks.

“It’s been too long Ahru, maybe you should prank Krixis again just to visit again,” he said, the granite voice cracking a little to allow some warmth into the words.

It was Di’Myria that arrived now, drawing Ferrum’s gaze, he had fought with her many times during the Rebellion, and every time they faced one another, it would come to something else calling them away from one another. Kovar’s demands for victory elsewhere, or Father’s own plans drawing the Time Goddess away. He’d never held hatred against her, with her powers Ferrum knew she could have wounded him at the very least in the past, instead she stayed her hand. Although Loshtar had fallen to her hands, and she was another kin-slayer, Ferrum couldn’t fault her for it. Loshtar was Murder after all, and he had said he would kill the Time Goddess during the rebellion, not one of Ferrum’s favored brothers, and he often forgot that as kind a soul as Di’Myria was stained with death.

“A minute or two we shall have, Sister,” he said bowing his head to her in respect.

Ki’ivara arrived without a word to him, pressing herself to her sisters with her habitual glee in such moments, Ferrum would never fully understand her, even though he had to deal with her during the rebellion, a fact he personally didn’t want to repeat, there were only so many lusty people he could beat aside without killing them in a realm such as hers. It was the one who followed her that made Ferrum sit up fully, his children reading themselves almost on instinct, Siani’s flames burning a little brighter and Krixis gripping his own hammer.

“Peace, my children, we won’t be the ones to break the rule of the Guardian this day,” he said, seeing the eagerness of Siani fading slowly, although Krixis kept his hand on his hammer.

Kilgarrah, the dragon lord, and the one who Ferrum had fought bitterly, losing one of his prized projects because of the blasted flying wyrm. He said nothing to Ferrum which was fine by him at this moment, Krixis keeping the shrouded Wyrm’s Tooth at his side, and he was suddenly beset by the decision to unmake the weapon again. It was a gamble in his mind, and just seeing the dragon again made him question the choice in allowing the weapon to be made once more. Sighing he relaxed again, his eyes flashing to keep him in sight, he had no desire to risk losing more family this day.

Janin arrived, Ferrum admitted he knew little of his sibling, keeping his distance from that one out of habit rather than dislike. And then there was Xsar. Madness certainly was his domain, salmon, that was his entrance, salmon, Ferrum could already feel Aesis’ prickling at it. With an inward sigh, he realised just how dysfunctional his family was whenever Xsar appeared. And impressive ability which Ferrum hated about the God personally.

Azo’tet, the centaur, the death god, at least he brought a gift for the old man, a pure soul, something Ferrum doubted existed in a world where the Gods exerted their differing wills and schemes onto their peoples. At least he was a neutral party, he hadn’t taken part in the rebellion, and many times Ferrum had heard Kovar raging against not having the God of Death on side.

And then there was Zadia, Kovar’s daughter, and she held the same belief of Kovar, that she should have the throne, even though he cared for her, he pressed his palm against his forehead as he watched her parade around as though she was already empowered. Even Krixis’ jaw fell open as Zadia made to claim Kovar’s center. It was Oksana who stopped her of course, ever the enforcer. Ferrum watched silently as Zadia struck the Storm Goddess, only to be flung across the chamber by the Guardian.

Stepping from his throne, he offered Zadia a hand to her feet again, staring at the Guardian and Oksana before turning his attention back to the four-armed amazon.

“Now’s not the time for such claims, Zadia, work on earning Kovar’s throne first, rather than thinking of it as a birthright,” he said quietly to her.

It was Ahru’s request to have the daughter of War ejected from the Heavens that caused Ferrum to look up, it wasn’t surprising, Ahru’s dislike of Zadia was plain, what caught him off guard was the brazen attempt of it.

“Zadia is the daughter of Kovar, our brother and the son of Father, she has every right to be here, as a representative of War in the… absence of Kovar himself,” said Ferrum loudly to all the assembled Gods and Goddesses, his eyes falling on Ilyona as the last of his sentence.

With each god's arrival, irritability began to set in, weighing deep on Aesis' soul. Ilyona's coruscating light singed his skin. Naqqash's twisted countenance was anathema to his eyes. Ahru's butterflies were swallowed by his piranhas. Ki'ivara's oddly colored aura vexed him. Kilgarrah's flaming bolt seared and cooked his aquarium, smoking a few of his children. Janin's degrading appearance within his pool lowered her expectations to the point of no return. But Xsar's appearance angered him the most. With a flourish and an explosion of fish, the mad god took to his poorly made throne, leaving behind dozens of suffering cold-blooded aquatic vertebrates.

It was like a vexing of the soul, for what Aesis felt was nothing new, it was twisted and distorted but it was something strong. It burned like fire lacing his veins and creeping up his spine, his skin began to froth and foam like the waves of the sea, but all he could feel was desire; desire to hate. He was intoxicated with an emotion he had no intention of feeling at this moment, not on this day. The acidity of it was residing in his stomach waiting to be spat out of his mouth in foul and vulgar words he would be stared at for saying.

Then, the near tipping point came, Zadia's arrival. Without thought or whim, her stride wasn't towards her throne, but his Fathers' own. This brought the look of disgust upon the sea gods face, and the throne room began to feel his wrath. His pets began to scream and swim erratically, his aquarium began to twist and turn into a violent miniature hurricane. Before he could turn his fury towards Zadia, Oksana took his place instead, stopping the war goddess in her tracks and proceeding to be launched across the room with a nasty sucker punch. Only the Guardian's interference, saved the two goddesses from his own getting involved. Despite his own dissatisfaction towards his father, he still maintained common decency when necessary. Their very own creator had died, and before his body, on top of his grave, she attempted to steal his throne? Did she know no respect?

Aesis throne began to shake, his anger clearly made known by the swirling torrent that surrounded him. Words could not describe the actions that may have taken place if the Guardian's words hadn't brought him back to reality. The King Kraken was many things, but he was not a hypocrite. He to, would bring respect upon the territory of his father, and calm himself. The raging water that surrounded Aesis slowed to a stop, but the embers of his rage still burned within him.

-a peaceful conclusion-

The Guardian's words replayed over and over within his head, and a frown formed upon his face. Confusion quickly set in. It was clearly apparent from the get-go that such an ending was farfetched and childish, and as an elder god, Aesis felt that his opinion should be heard:

"You are very mistaken if you truly believe such a conclusion is a plausible outcome. All of you are." he began, his words washing over the room like a rushing wave. "The altercation, he made sweeping gesture with his hands, alluding to the very spot in which the fight began. "proves my very point. Peace, that is not and never will be the answer here." he concluded, leaning forward in his throne. "The the situation is no longer so clear cut, Guardian." "Brothers." He turned to his right. "Sisters." he turned to his left. "What is the answer?" Aesis began to stroke his beard, thinking on such an conclusion, a violent one. The answer the clear and no doubt in the minds of all those present, once they faced reality. Once they realized they realized the reality of the situation, they would also sense the jaded motives behind them.

But the answer certainly didn't involve kicking anyone out. His sea blue eyes landed upon Ahru. Her dislike and contempt for Zadia was no secret indeed, but she should have known better. It was clear who was stronger between the two, the Guardian meant little outside this room.

The first one to approach the Goddess of Time was the cheerful Ki, and of course after she finished her moment of mourning, Ki came to address Di’Myria. Not that she minded at all, it was too long since Myria had actually talked to her family. Ki was no exception, unfortunately. So of course, Di’Myria returned the embrace with a smile. “Absolutely, Ki. If Ferrum gets two minutes, I can spare five for you.” As Ki stepped away, Myria turned back to the coffin in solidarity.

Standing next to her mother’s throne, Vespira made an obvious cough, while shaking her head at the passing Ki’Ivara. Both Vespira and Kiroas share a bit of disdain for the presentation of some of the Gods present, though that doesn’t mean that they didn’t respect everyone here. They both glanced at each other, before a loud crash was heard across the room. Respecting the Guardian’s authority, they both said nothing.

Di’Myria on the other hand, quickly turned her heel to face Zadia. The Goddess was quite irritated with the younger one’s display of both disrespect and misunderstanding of the system, taking a few steps to her and crossing her arms. Respecting the rules of The Guardian, she refused to lay a hand on her weapon, though was afraid for conflict in the land of mortals. “You are a damn fool. Learned nothing from those twelve years, it seems. Don’t force me to make the next one forty.”

Unfortunately not knowing a single story of their mother from the war, save for rumors from the mortals, the siblings glanced at each other questioningly. It did seem a bit uncharacteristic, her reaction to this, as they haven’t seen her more serious side past the respectfulness she portrays when needing to show authority. Those times were never close to Di’Myria attempting to be authoritarian by any manner, leaving the two siblings blissfully ignorant. The two of them stepped in front of the throne, only to question each other for knowledge.

“Old rumors, sister?”

“Likely so. Some things about the old war, though I attribute it to the mortals praising the greatness of their gods.”

“There’s more to that. She did mention she was going to tell us eventually, maybe we should ask…?”

Myria smiled to Ahru, with a nod of similar contempt for Zadia. Ferrum cut in, to which Di’Myria sighed in admittance. “At least her father thought he was doing something worthwhile. I suppose an equal opportunity is at hand, should she learn even a fraction of respect from The Guardian.”

This was when Aesis cut in, prompting Di’Myria to shake her head in disappointment. She stepped back for a moment, engulfing herself in her own small distortion to let herself think. Just for a minute. Barely even a second in real time. Maybe he was right, maybe there was no chance for peace? Myria didn’t trust really anyone to take power at the moment, save for likely two exceptions, and isn’t going to settle for someone taking the throne in spite.

So what options were there? The least they could do was honor their father and at least try to go for peace. That seemed like the best option, try and work for peace. At the very least, try her hardest. If not, the outcome might be unfortunate, but Di’Myria would never let someone just take the throne.

Opening back up to real time, Di’Myria spoke quickly. “One oddity in our family should not and cannot leave us with no other opportunity. At least give it a chance.” The slight hypocrisy showed through her voice as she stared right at Aesis. Give it a chance… She thought to herself again, realizing that she hadn’t really given him an opportunity for redemption after the war. Though this, this might be it.

Azo'tet was slightly annoyed that he seemed to be the last of his siblings to show up to the meeting as no one had appeared after his arrival. Not even Sekt had showed up and that was what annoyed him the most as he needed his closest ally present for his ambitions to succeed. He was silently mulling over his options on how to approach his current situation when Zadia appeared in the room making a large show of power as she strolled toward the throne claiming that power was her right. Morgrim tightened his grip on his scythe and seemed ready to act and even Azo'tet was putting weight onto his ax as he was ready to act at a moments notice as well. That was the moment that the guardian acted to split up the argument causing Azo'tet to raise his hand to his son as a signal to stand down.

It was strange listening to his siblings discuss what to do with Zadia which ended in mixed results. It would be beneficial to keep the young demi-goddess in council as it could distract from his own goals to put his own name forward for the crown. He would also need to get Naqqash to take his father's throne and get a seat among the gods so that he could get another god to vote for him. He knew his siblings had mixed results about his person and he would have to campaign to earn some of their votes which wasn't always his strong suit, he would probably have to get Morgrim to whisper into the ears of their own children to sway some of their minds.

The lord of Death slowly rose from his seat at the assembly and used his ax to support his weight as all four legs got underneath him. "Siblings, this is not a time for us to swing weapons at each other. We already saw how this has affected our family." He waved his hand around the room as he pointed out the empty thrones. "There are a few issues that are to be brought up today and we should all be present for these decisions." He made circles around the room using his large ax as a staff as he looked at each of the gods.

Azo'tet needed to choose his words carefully as he new the tempers that some of the Gods had toward each other. "This is a neutral place and we should honor that choice. Zadia may not seem fit to take her seat among us, but that does not mean that she should not be present for the rest of the meeting. On another note, I move to have Naqqash take Greed's throne as I believe that he has earned his right these four hundred years." He nodded toward the spiked demi-god as a gesture that he was on his side.

"There is also the matter of the empty throne that sits in front of us. I offer my own name be put forth as a neutral party who did not take part in the fighting all those years ago. I see no favorites on either side of the rift. I do regret my decision at times a I wonder if I had taken part if some of the dead may still be among us today." Azo'tet knew it was a big risk to throw a bid for the throw this early, but it was a gamble worth taking with the guardian watching over everyone. With these final words said, he made his way back to his throne and took his seat once again to see the reactions of the others.

Whatever fears Janin had of boredom at the beginning of the meeting where quickly extinguished; starting with the arrival of Xsar, and his aquatic accompaniment.
“An entrance as always” She greeted in return to her brother’s embrace, her smile returning at the look of Aesis’ face behind him.

Zadia’s arrival, and what came with it was the real surprise. Janin had no opinion of the still-young god, but liked her well enough if only because of the stir she caused so quickly. The guardian was suddenly visible, gods who had been sitting quietly suddenly standing and speaking if not yelling, and Oksana and Zadia herself where on the ground. It had all happened a bit too quickly for the spinning mind of Janin, who remained him her seat and suddenly very much in need of her drink again. Alek on her shoulder was hissing, an action more clearly demonstrated by the tensing of her small form then the sound only her mother could hear. Janin was content to pick up her glass again and let everyone continue talking until they calmed again.

Aesis was the first to try and gain control of the situation. Of course, so hasty to finish the war he had lost centuries before. The better part of the conversation was lost to the now substantially inebriated goddess, but Ahru’s words she clung to most, unjustly biased as they may be.
“I agree with Ahru” Janin didn’t move, face only shifting to a frown, focus spent on remembering how to speak with authority and without slurring “these new gods are too young and inexperienced to have a voice in these discussions. Let them mourn their grandfather and be gone.” She waved her hand at Zadia, but it was Naqquash her gaze went to after whatever attention her remark might have gained faded. Or it would have, but she hardly managed to look at the mangled body before turning away out of disgust.