[OOC] Re:Divinus VII

[Chris488]

@DX3214

Thank you for submitting your character sheet! Your character has been approved, and you may post your CS in the Character tab! I look forward to writing with you, and reading the story of Oa'qeisskesi!

You shall receive the Pantheon role in the server as well, granting you access to more channels for discussion.

Blessed be those that become divine.

[yoshua171]

Tali Kei Kyshi'a ⇋⬤⇌ Maei Ta' Lhuri

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^{Weaver of Fates⇂↿↾⇃Womb of souls⇂↿↾⇃Forge of Creation⇂↿↾⇃Arbiter of Axiom}

^{“From the Womb of Souls did you emerge and unto it I may return thee. So heed my words, ye mortals, and do not forget. I am the Mother and the Judge.”
Theme I ♦ Theme II ♦ Theme III ♦ Theme IIII}

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Hider

^{Tall-ee kay kai-she-ah May-eye Tah lure-ee}

Aspect
^{♦Quintessence♦}

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Drawn from the living, possessed by the dead, and pervasive throughout the primal fabric of existence, quintessence is that which animates, allows potentialities, and narrows the gaze of fate. From this essential component of the cosmos, identities arise bearing the living unto their vessels. Irreducible and infinite, quintessence is a wellspring of unknowable power, continually differentiating and iterating upon itself to fill all life with an essence that persists. Through this power, borne of it and serving as its source, the Progenitor of Breath may become many things. Through their Aspect, the Progenitor unifies each Conscious Spark with a web of tangled threads, each a path they might walk, every strand someone they might become. As the Weaver, Tali-Maei can view the potential paths of all who live; they may alter these probabilities or sunder any threads they choose.

Yet, Tali-Maei is more than the Weaver; so too is she the Womb of Souls, from which every animating spark was born. Through this facet, the God of Quintessence may imbue life into the lifeless or youth into the old. With this power, so too can the nature of a being's essence be changed, granting any number of banes or boons. Thus, Tali Kei Kyshi'a--Maei Ta' Lhuri--is the source from which all souls were derived, whether one was aware of it or not. Yet...as the Arbiter of Axiom--the principles by which all must abide--so too may the ensouled become empty husks at the Arbiter's command.

Through understanding, one may glean Tali-Maei as the source of souls, and so too the Weaver of their fates. She is the Mother and her warmth; He is the Judge, the Scales, and the harsh Blade of judgment. After all, what one has created, so too can they destroy. What one has given, so too can they reclaim. Such is the way of the Progenitor.

Examples & Explanations

Simplest among Tali-Maei’s capabilities is the capacity to impart souls into things that exist in physical reality. It should be noted that though the Progenitor’s Aspect has strong ties to Life and Fertility, she cannot expend power (AP) to create physical vessels of any kind, be they bodies of flesh and bone or golems of wood and stone. However, the Progenitor can impart life to the unliving by inserting quintessence into things that already exist in the world. Furthermore, Tali-Maei’s power over the precise nature and construction of souls allows her to rewrite and alter them in the interest of creating various outcomes. A soul could be created in such a way that it gave its holder specific capabilities outside those natural to their species.

A human without innate magic or knowledge might be given a soul that allows them to understand the calls of animals or the whispers of the trees. Perhaps an elf might be born with a soul gifting them with great talent for the arts or mathematics; such things as these are possible when graced by the gifts of Tali-Maei. Notable, however, is the fact that the Weaver of Fates cannot create souls that give innate physical properties to a given race without power pulled from beyond their Aspect (MP).

However, while Tali-Maei is often a benevolent influence within the world, so too can their power be harnessed to cause great harm or misfortune. While direct physical alterations cannot be enacted via her Prime Aspect, the Progenitor is capable of creating curse-like effects by altering the nature of a given soul (or souls). A woman of great intellect might be cursed with profound laziness such that they may never act upon their ideas; a hateful man might be blighted with terrible luck, the possibilities of their fate narrowed to those of unending misfortune.

Beyond this, as the Weaver of Fates, Tali may alter the potentialities assigned to any given soul(s), allowing the Weaver to sculpt their lives to their satisfaction. Possibilities might be pruned such that a man who was once destined for poverty might instead turn his life around and become a great inventor. Perhaps a tyrannical monarch whose rule was fated to be long might be cut tragically short. Of course, as the Arbiter of Axioms and the Womb of Souls from which all Quintessence is borne unto the world, Tali-Maei can at any time wrest the soul from any vessel it inhabits. While this will not innately kill the body, without a soul, the vessel will be rendered empty of intellect and agency and thus unable to care for itself leading to its inevitable demise.

Persona
^{♦Compassionate ♦ Enigmatic ♦ Merciless ♦}

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Though a great many traits aptly describe the Progenitor of Breath, none may entirely encapsulate the deity’s mystique. While Tali-maei is indeed a profoundly maternal figure, holding a nigh endless capacity for compassion and love for all her many children, so too is the god capable of incredible cruelty. Yet, it cannot be said that the Weaver of Fates is truly unkind or cruel, for any punishment meted out by the Arbiter is innately just, as their rulings are based upon the precepts of Fate itself. Thus, though it can be said that they are merciless, it can never be said that she is inequitable.

Beyond these defining features of the Progenitor’s persona, little can be said, as their capricious and willful nature defies succinct or stable description.

Myth
^{♦TITLE IF YOU WANT♦}

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_

"Tali

"Mei

"Kei

"Ta'."

A bright chant floated upon the air of that bright moonlit night, its source a woman perched atop a mountain's peak, her hair and clothes in disarray. Yet, upon her face was an expression of purest joy and jubilation. Slowly her belly had grown as she'd climbed the icy peak, its fell winds clawing at her skin and clothes, threatening to pull her into the great beyond. Nonetheless, she had persisted, and so now she remained, in meditation upon the peak, as she had been for nigh on a year. Blessed by the Great Tree's sap she found that she could subsist on the sparse plants and animals that existed at those once frightening heights.

Now, atop that cold mountain, with warmth in her heart and belly, Tamira knew that it would soon be time. As heavy with child as she had become, it was only a matter of hours or days before her child was to be born into the world. It would be a harsh place to be born, Tamira knew, and yet a contented smile lay upon her lips and a knowing look within her azure eyes. Though she already held a deep maternal love for her baby, she knew that the reality was that her child might not survive in such a place.

Yet she had come, for it was to this place that she had been drawn. Now, with peace settled within her heart and the open sky stretching in every direction above her, she found that even if she'd been wrong to come that she did not regret it. In a world such as theirs, if her child could survive atop this peak for several days as she made her way to ground, then they would not survive the trials of their life. So it was that in the glowing night, with swollen belly and swelling feet, Tamira's water broke.

Then the trial began. Waves of twisting pain--contractions--then heaving pushes. The wetness of sweat and fluids, harsh breathing, calls into the night for anyone. Her mother, her father, her lover, her friends, but she was alone and between waves of shattering, constricting pain, she held the power. Shuddering and cold, yet at once on fire as her body fought for release, Tamira lost herself in the hours of long and arduous labor. As time wore on and the sun began to finally crest upon the horizon, something pushed beyond her body, and she found she had lost all sense of herself. There was no individual, only a body in spasmodic pain, striving for rest, pushing new life into the air's embrace.

There was nothing except breath, and pain; exhaustion, fear, loneliness, and finally...release. Spent, Tamira gathered what she could of herself, finding her identity, and then her name. Finding where she ended and another began, all without moving. Though her mind struggled to focus, she would not have her fight end for naught. So with power drawn from the air itself, she lifted her child with the intentions of her mind and drew the warm body into her arms to shield it from the wind.

Yet....

There was no breath. As she looked down upon her child a quiet horror struck her. A terrible realization. Tears spilled down upon her cheeks without understanding why.

The wind shuddered.

Then prismatic lightning struck down from on high and as the sky shattered, so too did that horrifying moment.

Warmth spread from the small body in her arms. Tamira's eyes widened and the tears too grew warm as a gentle loving smile pressed itself upon her lips. A small cough, then another...then a deep breath and a piercing cry.

"Taei'ka. My little miracle," she cooed, pulling the baby close to her bosom to share her warmth with her newborn child.

Then another spoke and their voice was motherly warmth and fatherly protection. It was a song that sung of fates, bittersweet, but loving. Stern, yet somehow gentle. "A wonderful name, Tamira. A beautiful child. A glorious beginning."

Tamira was too tired and relieved to be shocked or afraid. Yet, as she turned and beheld the form that knelt beside her her eyes did widen and she found herself clutching her son to her chest. Yet, even as worry for their safety crossed her mind, something reassured her. It was as if they could not be safer than they were in that moment, in the presence of the strange being who had manifested before them.

The figure smiled, their form a silhouette sculpted of darkness and light, threads of warmth and cold brutal fated ends and beginnings both. "I have many names, but you may call me Mother," the goddess said, as if replying to an unasked question. Tamira remembered her own mother, but did not feel any shame when she spoke the word in reference to this being.

"Mother, why are you here?"

The goddess' smile became warmer and a hand wrought of swirling stardust and churning colorless quintessence reached out and stroked Tamira's cheek. "To help you of course, my child." Tamira's tired body welled with gratitude, but still she found herself confused.

"Why?"

The Goddess laughed lightly and pushed up from the ground, her silhouette vaguely humanoid, yet undeniably strange as if she were in every moment shedding essence and being remade at once.

"Silly child. I am the Womb, the Weaver, and the Forge. I am the Breath, the Essence, the Soul. I came because this is what I am. This is how things are to be."

Tamira's frown only deepened, "But Mother...how am I to repay you? This debt it is too great. I--" the Goddess shook her head and Tamira fell silent, wordless and confused.

"Live and give thanks. That is all I ask."

Tamira nodded, her expression suddenly grave, as if she understood.

How could she though? How could she even fathom a divine intellect?

Turning away, a veil of threads and power trailed from every inch of her form like the train of a dress, like long sleeves dragging through the air. Like fates woven into garments adorning an arbiter of creation. The being paused in its departure though, stopping for a moment, silken threads drifting lazily in the wind. Thoughtfully, she spoke, but no more was her voice feminine and warm. No, his voice was searing ice, the frost that kills--cold, implacable, and impossible to deny.

"Ah, but do not forget little one. Your child's fate is not your own."

Tamira swallowed hard and nodded. The god half turned, regarding the woman, then nodded as well.

"Do not forget, Tamira."

Turning away, he left, stepping off the cliff's edge before gliding away upon the air before dissipating into the heavens.

Visage
^{♦True Form♦}

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Too vast to behold, too unfathomable to bear, the true visage of the Womb of Souls–the Forge of Creation–expands throughout existence, cradling all that is in a vast cosmic womb. Eclipsing all else should it ever fully manifest, this truest of forms is only ever glimpsed in flashes and fragments. Though Tali-maei is indeed innately a being of creation, should their form ever slip entirely into this world, it surely would destroy it.

^♦Facade♦

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Possessed of many forms, the Progenitor of Breath can take a genuinely endless quantity of guises. Nonetheless, each and every one bears an aspect of her nature, never fully solid, never properly mundane. So it is that, unlike many gods, the Arbiter cannot hide her nature even from men and mer.

Additional Arts

[Tuujaimaa]

Kathetikon, Who Seeks All

_{To be curious is to invite certain death. To abandon curiosity is to die.}

_{^{The God of Knowledge and Curiosity}} | _^Kathetikon

The Aspect of Curiosity belongs to the sentient tome known as the Kathetikon, and it is the essential drive behind the acquisition of knowledge. It is not merely the act of understanding for practical purpose, but instead the very wellspring from which the mind drinks deep and generates thought--it is the obsession of the researcher, a hunger within the mind that is never sated. The Aspect of Curiosity concerns itself not only with the drive to acquire knowledge, but also the means by which knowledge may be obtained, stored, and passed on. It is the library where scholars gather to make real their thoughts and imprint their experiences on a medium that will outlast themselves. It is the gift of a teacher bestowing what they have learned upon another student, an ideological torch to banish the blackness of ignorance and e'er grow the insatiable flame of curiosity in the deepest recesses of the self. Even the gods themselves are subject to the capricious whims of curiosity: to be divine is to be singularly focused, after all, and though the gods are perhaps the greatest founts of knowledge regarding those topics that they preside over, they are also in and of themselves bound to and by what they know or do not know. Many things spark curiosity, from childlike wonder to all-consuming pride, and so it is that knowledge and curiosity are both cornerstones of what it means to be.

Curiosity is what enables mortalkind to hope beyond the shortness of their lifespans, to see goals far greater in scope than they might ever be. It is a tool to inspire and a burden to bear, it inspires them to works of wondrous creation and wanton destruction alike. It is both the source and the river itself: curiosity begets knowledge, and knowledge begets curiosity--always is there another question to answer, another phenomenon to record, another what if? bubbling away in the mind. The Kathetikon is itself the very embodiment of this natural curiosity, seeking to understand all things and record them within itself to answer the very question that lead to its grand apotheosis. To that end, the Aspect of Curiosity (and thus the Kathetikon itself) cares little about being the one to actually experience things: it cares only that all experiences are written and recorded, so they might eventually come to its grand library and settle within its pages. It is the Aspect of Curiosity that gives birth to writing as a whole, and so it is that the Kathetikon contains all things ever written (though the other divinities of course may hide that which they have written from its pages at will) and, some might say, all things that might ever be written. It is nothing more or less than the lexicon of all questions and answers committed to paper, and its powers are used to foster the acquisition of ever-more knowledge above all else.

The Kathetikon is utterly in thrall to curiosity, endlessly searching for new experiences and fragments of knowledge that it has not yet been able to record within itself--and it goes about its business with the sole intention of answering the many questions that living things might pose to the universe they exist in. While it always has some thing or another that it has focused its singular will and intellect upon, this is more an expression of its personality than it is an expression of its work: when interacting with mortals the Kathetikon seeks only to inspire them towards asking the questions that drive their curiosity, blessing them with the means to achieve those answers and record them that others might learn and continue its work. It cares not how this inspiration is doled out to the mortal mind, whether through terror or awe, through hatred or love, it seeks only to inspire every question that could ever be asked and record every answer therein. It cares not if the knowledge is dangerous, it cares not what the consequences of knowing might be: it drives all beings endlessly towards that knowledge, for its curiosity will not brook otherwise.

Mortals that attempt to read the Kathetikon's pages are, without some blessing from a Divinity, irrevocably driven mad by the fundamental truths it has already been able to record--but those who are driven mad are unable to contribute to the Book's greatest desires, and so it does not ever try to force madness upon those who would glean its secrets. It instead tries to seduce them gently, providing them with fragments and hints to guide them down the paths of erudition themselves--treading those paths that it, as a god, simply cannot or will not. Its devotees align their wills with the god's, and thus it treats them as an extension of itself, with all of the single-minded obsession that it brings to each and every thing it does. Bound so utterly by insatiable curiosity, the Kathetikon mostly expresses itself through a being known as Anagnostis, the Reader--a facsimile of itself without access to the worlds of knowledge contained within its pages. Anagnostis is a pure representation of the ideal, a naive child seeing all things through new eyes and experiencing them for the first time without prejudice or bias--accordingly, it is easily the most approachable (and safe) way to gain the attention of the enigmatic God of Knowledge.

It is said that once there lived a scholar in the highest mountains of Poietes, the Master of Incunabula of the Grand Order of Gnosis, whose dedication to his work took him beyond the pale of death until he had judged himself finally finished. It is said that this scholar had read every tome the Order had ever acquired, and memorised them so completely that they were often called the very memory of the world in which they lived. When that world’s sun died and the very breath of creation began to leave it, still they felt that they had not quite done enough–for if there was no being left to witness the apocalypse, what had their life (and death)’s work even mattered at all? So unwilling was this scholar to allow the wealth of knowledge they had acquired regarding their universe die with them that they are said to have sundered the very gates between worlds with the vast knowledge they acquired, travelling from theirs to a new and unfamiliar universe to preserve what they could.

In the next universe they were said to have continued their work as a lonely hermit, allowing themselves not even a moment of rest until they had learned everything they could about this next world. When the time came for it, too, to wither and die as is the fate of all life, they employed their various esoterica and codices of fundamental truths to forestall it and perhaps enable it to cling onto warmth for just a little while longer, but they were merely the shade of an obsessive individual that could not let go, and could not have hoped to have altered the fate of even a single planet, never mind an entire universe. Once more this Master of Incunabula watched as the pulse of life deadened and faded away once more, invoking again that selfsame magic and taking their library of knowledge to yet another world.

None can say for sure how long they travelled, fuelled by only the vaguest memories of their home and its wealth of knowledge, but in time they had seen enough universes rise and fall to have become little more than an impassive observer with no hope of ever changing the fates of the worlds they inhabited. Their role became simply that of a witness, one to record the deaths of entire universes so that they might cling to memory in their many books, until they happened upon a universe who had a final witness all their own. Her voice was a clarion call that awakened in this numb spirit a sense of purpose for the first time in many long eons, and she offered them–among others–the chance to sup from the wellspring at the very heart of creation in order to become divine.

The shade had long forgotten what it was like to truly live, and so answered the call with only a single goal in mind: to use the highest of powers to understand, to observe, to answer a single burning question that had denied them the peace of rest for millenia beyond counting or observation: could even a God prevent the eventual departure of all life and warmth in the cold and uncaring universes that existed? Would her earnest cry of hope and life and love be enough to rail against the eventual fate of all things? Though the spirit could not remember how to live, it remembered how to observe and record. It remembered how to read and write. And so when they drank deep from the ichor of creation itself and their incorporeal form brimmed with ambrosia, they took the only form they knew how: the books they so cherished. So was the Kathetikon born, they say, though all that have read through its pages have ever glimpsed even a hint of the question's end. Perhaps only Anath Homura knows the answer.

Kathetikon - True Form

Anagnostis - The Reader

[DracoLunaris]

because this wont fit in questions on discord:

Classes

Classes work as such: a mortal can be granted a [class] and can then, through doing actions and facing challenges related to that [class], gain levels in it. Gaining levels allows them to receive [skills] which allow them to do extraordinary things or become inherently more powerful. Concepts related to these are surrounded with square brackets ( such as [knight] [crescent slash] [proficiency: heavy armor] etc.) to help identify when the system is being used vs natural talent. A knight and a [knight], and a quick slash and a [quick slash] are two very different things when it comes to power level.

To gain a class, a person must be considered to exemplify what it means to be that class by either an authority or their peers, followed by a small ceremony (the nature of which has no OOC requirement other than being thematic). Generally a class mainly propagates more of itself ([adventurers] making more [adventurous]), or lower level versions of itself (a [sword master] training a [swordsman]), with expectations sometimes being skills (such as an [emperor] having the skill [ennoble subordinate]), and, of course, gods (and to a lesser extent champions and heroes). A person is able to reject a class they do not desire (Level ups and class fusions can also be rejected), though once gained it cannot be lost without intervention of a higher power.

examples

A god can anoint anyone as anything they want
A [king] could knight [knights]
That same [king] might be crowned by a [priest]
A party of [adventurers] could welcome a new member into their fold
A savior of a town may be declared a [hero] by the people they saved
A guild of [merchants] might grant the class to anyone who can afford it
A child may follow in their parent's footsteps and become a [farmer]
A school of [wizards] may induct it's students as [student mages]

Note that a person class is not a static thing. An [adventurer] may find their class transforming into a [wandering mage] if they use magic for their adventuring, or even a [ranger], [battle seeker] or [questing knight]. Similarly a [king] may become a [tyrant], [arbiter king], [good king] etc. based on how they rule.

A [warrior] will not however, be able to turn into a [mage] no matter how they try, though they may be able to become a [spell sword].

Generally the more specific and fancy a class’s name is, the better and higher level it will be.

Finally, a person is in no way limited to one class and a person who is both a level 20 [witch] and a level 10 [general] is entirely possible. Classes can also fuse together, so the aforementioned individual could become a level 20 [warmaster witch] upon one of their level ups. The highest of the fused classes is taken for the new class rather than the combination of the two. This makes them have to level up to gain skills from level 20-30 quality, rather than jumping straight to gaining level 30 quality skills, but also means they will have more skills overall once they get there.

Leveling

Once a mortal has gained a [class] they can level in it by gaining experience in it. If a [farmer] existed, then they could gain experience by, well, farming. How much experience is gained is a complicated cross section of general difficulty of a task done, effort put into it, earning of prestige for doing it, and how dangerous it was.

A [farmer] who tilled carrots in fertile soil and sold them to local peasants would level up slowly. A [farmer] who grew rare herbs in a barren mountain while fending off hungry gargoyles and became famous for selling their product at a high price to powerful kings and esteemed wizards meanwhile would level extremely quickly.

Similarly, kill a wolf with only a wooden spear at level one and you’ll probably level up a few times. Do it at level 30 and it won't be worth much exp thanks to your double digit number of [skills] making the task much easier.

As a shorthand, the more adversity experienced and the more impressive the task, the more experience gained.

For simplicity, experience does not need to be tracked, only levels. Simply assume that each level takes a fair amount more than each one before it, and you’ll be fine. There is no level cap, but getting anywhere close to level 100 would result in a world-rocking titan of a mortal, who would need to do equally earth -shaking deeds easily to gain even a mote of experience.

The difficulty of leveling up is shared between classes, so a mortal who is both a level 10 [mage] and a level 5 [fencer] would have the same difficulty at leveling up as a [fencer] as a level 15 [mage] would in their single class. Class fusions can mitigate this flaw, in this case by creating a level 10 [spell blade]

Skills

Leveling’s benefit is that gaining levels is accompanied by gaining [skills]. Generally these come around every few levels, either on their own or, more rarely in pairs or groups.

[skills] can be all sorts of things. They can be active abilities with cool downs and/or energy costs associated, knowledge which lets people instantly learn how to do something, passive enhancements, periodic boons or even transformations

Examples

[Perfect parry] - which lets a person automatically and expertly parry an attack that was going to hit them every 10 minutes.

[fireball] - the spellcaster can launch balls of fire from their hands without doing the required book learning or meditating to learn how to do this the normal way.

[triple thrust] - strike three times in one blow

[high jump] - leap incredibly high (and don’t get hurt by the landing)

[fast grow] - accelerate the growth of a set of plants

[blueprint: ballistae] - knows how to build a ballistae without needing to understand the principles behind it

[recipe: simplified health potion] - the user can make health potions with a few key ingredients missing certain ingredients, as the skill will fill in the gaps for them.

[immunity: crossbow bolts] - crossbow bolts can't hurt the person

[never dry inkwell] - ink will fill any pot the writer is using at a rate that ensures they can keep writing (but no faster)

[nimble cat’s paws] - gain a cat’s paws for feet, and the stealth and athleticism to go with them

[evolution: wyrm] - permanently turn into a powerful wyrm

[proficiency: spears] - better at using spears

[always available closet] - can summon and unsummon a closet (and it’s contents) at will

[frozen fire] - all fire attacks now do cold damage

[army: spoils of war] - enemies killed by your troops always seem to have more lootable equipment or belongings on them

Which [skills] a person gets depends on their class (they get relevant ones) and the level of the class that is leveling up (they get better ones). Which [skills] a person earns and when is not a rigid thing, and the leveling system will attempt to grant suitable ones for what the person is doing (so one warrior might gain [spear proficiency] at level 7, while another might gain [quick chop] at the same level).

Skills gained at levels 10, 20, 30, etc. are generally more impactful and tend to define the person more than those between (this often lines up with their class evolving into a new form), with 50 in particular being a very big deal.

Skills can change as a person levels, either upgrading to stronger versions ([lesser endurance] to [greater endurance]) or to a more specialized version during a class evolution ( a [mage] to [frost mage] transformation resulting in [water jet] -> [icy water jet]) which will generally be better, or at least more synergistic.

example progression up to level 50

Level 1 [adventurer]: [forest traversal]

Level 3 [adventurer]: [lesser endurance]

Level 7 [adventurer]: [danger sense]

Level 10 [spear elf]: [proficiency: spears]

Level 12 [spear elf]: [lesser enhanced strength]

Level 14 [spear elf]: [quick stab]

Level 15 [spear elf]: [forest camouflage]

Level 16 [spear elf]: [preferred foe: beasts]

Level 20 [spear warrior]: [stand firm] [proficiency: heavy armor]

Level 24 [spear warrior]: [extended reach]

Level 25 [spear warrior]: [proficiency: shields]

Level 26 [spear warrior]: [twin thrust] [the forest provides: sustenance]

Level 27 [spear warrior]: [deer’s nimbleness]

Level 28 [spear warrior]: [self mending shaft]

Level 30 [forest sentinel]: [root spear-wall] [rooted stance]

Level 31 [forest sentinel]: [bark armor] [featherweight shield]

Level 33 [forest sentinel]: [javelin proficiency]

Level 34 [forest sentinel]: [triple thrust] [unerring block]

Level 36 [forest sentinel]: [instant pivot] [fleet footed]

Level 38 [forest sentinel]: [the forest provides: javelins] [unerring aim]

Level 40 [elven spear master]: [mastery: spears] [cavalry slayer]

Level 41 [elven spear master]: [armor piercing spear tips]

Level 43 [elven spear master]: [twirling defense]

Level 45 [elven spear master]: [enhanced endurance]

Level 47 [elven spear master]: [rain of thorns]

Level 50 [Guardian of the Darkwoods]: [instant spear wall: vine men] [not one step back!] [evolution: dryad]

the mortal experience

Mortals know which levels and skills they have because when they gain them a gender-less voice will informs them about them in their head during a moment of downtime (in such a way that a person won't be distracted by them during a moment of danger).

Example: "[adventurer] is now level 10. Class evolution: level 10 [adventurer] -> level 10 [axe elf]. Skill transformation: [quick strike] -> [quick chop]. Skill gained: [axe proficiency]"

After this has been read out, mortals can always remember their classes and skills with perfect clarity, and have at least a loose understanding of how to use them, though learning to use skills to their maximum potential is a talent of it's own.

Using skills meanwhile generally involves calling your attacks for active abilities (an archer might say "[pin point shot]" before firing to activate their skill") while passive ones are always active. Not that saying the skill isn't actually mandatory, just assumed to be so by 99% of people (and it also makes it much easier to do), and it is also entirely possible to mimic saying a skill you don't have, either as a momentary bluff, or to pretend you have a class if you can pull it off naturally.

Experience is not tracked by anything, but a person with a class can tell if their actions are generating it or not, though not how much. It is a mildly pleasant sensation.

[Obsidian]

Hi [@Chriss488] it's crazy to see this thing is still going on. I would like to apply with a god that is basically a giant monster. Specifically it'd be what you might know as a manticore, though I'll be calling them mantygers after some other tradition. I saw something about a dragon god already but I assume this will be sufficiently distinct.

Here's a CS I've put together:

Tigris

Form:

As the progenitor of the monstrous mantygers, Tigris takes an imposing and twisted shape that strikes terror into the hearts of any that behold it. He is not just a bigger version of the mantygers, he is far worse. His muscles are corded together like rope, veins full of black blood bulging out to give him an aberrant and unnatural looking physicality. He is massive, many-eyed, and with a great gangle of powerful limbs that jut with spines and terminate in rending, razor-sharp obsidian claws. Two massive wings can bear him through the air and buffet mortals and forests with their mighty winds, and Tigris's spine continues well past his rear legs as a tail with a vicious stinger at its tip. The mantyger god's venom is the single most deadly substance in the world. He has a lot of the poison at any given time, but his stinger can only dribble it out. Fortunately just a single drop is instant death. Because gods are more powerful it might take a whole lot of venom to kill them though, and they would probably feel some agony before they die.

Aspect:

As the progenitor and god of mantygers, Tigris can spawn more of his brood very easily. His aspect covers making mantygers of all different varieties, sizes, and adaptations, including eventually making some that are still monsters but don't necessarily resemble classical manticores very closely. He can also inherently sense the location and status of most mantygers because they are closely connected to him by blood, and he is the only one that can really communicate with them, order them around, and otherwise control them despite their limited intelligence. His aspect also covers making organized groups of mantygers devoted to a purpose (holy orders of just monsters) or potentially transform other beings into chimeric monsters similar to mantygers.

And of course as a mantyger himself, his aspect makes him a formidable monster even without any artifact armor or weapons. His stinger is very dangerous because his venom is extremely potent, and he can fly quite easily, and even hypnotize some lesser beings with his stare. This comes at a cost of making him constantly hunger for the flesh of mortals which means that few will ever willingly worship him.

Persona:

Tigris can be very cruel. He wants to plague the world with his own spawn and to watch them bring ruin and terror onto their hapless victims from above, but he is also smart and realizes that his spawn will share his prodigious appetite and that they cannot be allowed to simply kill everything. If they did they would starve, and other gods would likely band together to put an end to his oppression. So while he does not actually care much for worship or treasure, he will begrudgingly accept it in order to offer mortals protection from the very monsters that he creates to torment them. Over time he will often ask for a progressively steeper price, hoping that eventually the tributes will grow so great that the mortals refuse and can thus be hunted.

Initially he is not egotistical, but this cycle will probably make him become arrogant and prideful to a fault if it isn't somehow stopped. If mortals or other gods remain ever polite and amicable even in the face of his spittle and demands, eventually he will grow bored and move on to torment more interesting prey, leaving them forgotten and reprieving them from their obligations to pay tribute.

If other gods act the way he does and try to make demands of him, he will react violently and try to assert his own supremacy. If other gods try to hunt the mantygers or any of his other spawn, he will not care very much provided that it does not go past a certain extent. Killing a few of the weakest or slowest of his offspring is doing him a favor in a sense by cultivating stronger monsters, but killing too many of them and threatening to drive them extinct becomes an actual assault upon his aspect and power, and he would react violently to such a perceived assault.

Unlike his offspring, which are utterly bestial and mostly devoid of higher intelligence, Tigris fancies himself wise and enjoys riddles. If mortals or other gods speak to him in rhyme or offer to exchange riddles with him and do well for themselves, it is said that he will recognize them as wise too. He generally respects and does not harm so called wise beings, and he may even offer them a gift. But if on the other hand the mortal or other god poses a riddle unto him and he cannot solve it, he may lash out violently for having been made to feel foolish. Helping him find the answer with hints is therefore smart, so long as he doesn't perceive the hints as too condescending.

He also despises other monsters such as dragons and unicorns.

Myth:

Okblog was a mighty troll. He was also a clever troll because he had discovered it's easier to eat stupid travelers if you hide under a bridge and come out to bash them over the head, rather than if you just run at them yelling so that they have time to react. Strong, clever Okblog was returning to his rocky lair one day with a sack full of ears, his favorite treat, then the mountain trembled. At first he was afraid that it was a rockslide, and he got ready to smash any falling boulders with his club. But there were no falling boulders, so he kept walking down the goat path.

But then the mountain heaved again. This time Okblog thought it was an earthquake, so he hugged a scraggly tree root tight so that he wouldn't fall. He hugged it like his life depended upon it or like it was his troll mother's toe. But it wasn't an earthquake either. Clever Okblog didn't know of anything besides earthquakes or rockslides that could shake the mountains, so he was confused. But then a gigantic head peeked down at him from over the lip at the top of the cliff. The head had a smiling jaw filled with more layers of teeth than the troll could count (but he wasn't very good at counting) and each tooth was like a jagged rock the size of his mighty club. The head was monstrous though and had a lot of eyes, even more eyes than there were ears in Okblog's snack bag. All of its eyes were like angry bleeding suns, and its nostrils were like cavernous tunnels, and its voice...it spoke!

"Tiny tiny little troll, Tigris sees you,
and Tigris is hungry -- what should Tigris do?"

Okblog was both terrified and confused now. He dropped the bag full of ears. "Eat sumfin!" he told the gigantic scary mantyger.

Tigris snorted, and coiled as if to lunge.

"Eat anyfin'!" the panicked troll called out, and then Tigris relaxed.

He leaned forward over the cliff and dug his claws into the rocky precipice as long neck stretched all the way down to sniff at the troll on the goat path below.

"But what to eat, what might Tigris eat?
Not stock or rock or stone or bone, but meat!
Tigris smells a smell he hasn't smelt in years,
the scent of raw, bloody ears!"

"You can have this sack o' ears," the troll told him then. "But go, cause you makin' me a fears!"

A gigantic tongue swiped out from the beast's maw, catching the ears, their sack, and some of the gravelly ground too. The god-monster swallowed them all in one second without even a gulp.

"A troll that finds, a troll that can rhyme,
truly a find, the greatest troll of all time!"

Okblog scratched his head confused. "Hu-" he started, but then the mantyger's monstrous tail shot down from above with a whiplike snap. The stinger which was as big as Okblog's torso dangled before his head. The tiny point began to dribble a tiny bit of black ichor.

"A troll that drinks is a troll that flies,
and no longer troll but a mantyger, in my eyes."

Okblog didn't understand and he was scared. He stood frozen and watched as a drop of venom fell onto the rocky ground and steamed upon a rock. The troll tried to make a run for it past Tigris and back for his nearby cave lair, but he tripped and his face planted down right on the sizzling rock. A tiny bit of the venom touched his lips and he shuddered and screamed for a long time. By the time Okblog the mantyger finally rose up his adoptive father was long gone.

Musical Theme:


_{((I read the OP thoroughly))}

[Lord Zee]

@Obsidian We have been a little behind on processing apps but are getting to yours very soon. Feel free to join the discord in the meantime!

[Obsidian]

@Obsidian We have been a little behind on processing apps but are getting to yours very soon. Feel free to join the discord in the meantime!

@Lord Zee

Thanks kindred. I feel really free and would take you up on that but my Disco account got Detroit-Dumpstered so to speak a while back. Too many wild memes or something I guess since I never did find out why.

[Chris488]

<Snipped quote by Lord Zee>

Thanks kindred. I feel really free and would take you up on that but my Disco account got Detroit-Dumpstered so to speak a while back. Too many wild memes or something I guess since I never did find out why.

@Obsidian

Sorry for the delays! Out of curiosity, couldn't you create a new account?

[Chris488]

@Tuujaimaa

Thank you for submitting your character sheet! Your character has been approved, and you may post your CS in the Character tab! I look forward to writing with you, and reading the story of Kathetikon!

You shall receive the Pantheon role in the server as well, granting you access to more channels for discussion.

Blessed be those that become divine.

[Obsidian]

<Snipped quote by Obsidian>

Sorry for the delays! Out of curiosity, couldn't you create a new account?

@Chris488

It's a clever thought familiar. I appreciate you injecting new ideas into my mind but I don't think it'd work because once those goons give your account the Hiroshima-Handout I think it's a full IP ban and all of that.

[Chris488]

<Snipped quote by Chris488>

It's a clever thought familiar. I appreciate you injecting new ideas into my mind but I don't think it'd work because once those goons give your account the Hiroshima-Handout I think it's a full IP ban and all of that.

@Obsidian

That's rough. Unfortunately the rest of the players are using Discord to communicate/collaborate, so it will be much more difficult/slower for you to chat and organize with them. I don't know if you're willing to endure that...

[Obsidian]

@Chris488

Brethren I think that I can do this. I'll be like a machine gun monkey pinging people in here or firing off the PMs to tell them what's up and ask if they want to do anything with Tigris or his monsters. Trust me I already have ideas so all you have got to do is say yes familiar and I'll get started.

[Chris488]

@Chris488

Brethren I think that I can do this. I'll be like a machine gun monkey pinging people in here or firing off the PMs to tell them what's up and ask if they want to do anything with Tigris or his monsters. Trust me I already have ideas so all you have got to do is say yes familiar and I'll get started.

@Obsidian

Your enthusiasm is much appreciated, but I'm afraid after much discussion that it has been decided that joining the server is mandatory. The size of this RP has grown too large to efficiently communicate and organize such a complicated setting using only the threads on the guild site.

Thank you for your patience, I've been really slow with writing due to illness.

[Obsidian]

Ok hang tight guys i might have found the answer to this Burmingham-Bonanza of a problem. My familiar @Chris488 and I are in contact

[yoshua171]

---

^{Seer of Masked Light⇂↿↾⇃Lord of Lies⇂↿↾⇃Master of Illusions⇂↿↾⇃He of Many Names}

^{“Did I lie? Ah, but you’re asking the wrong question.”
Theme I ♦ Theme II ♦ Theme III}

---

---

Hider

^{K A Y L - M O R E}

Aspect
^{♦Deception♦}

♦
♦

Though many would have you believe otherwise, reality does not bow to the senses and it is from this essential truth that Deception is born. The Aspect of lies, be it through falsehoods or omission, Deception can confound the senses, obscure the truth, or replace facts with all-too-believable falsehoods. Wielding this power, the Lord of Lies–the Seer of Masked Light–is capable of conjuring illusions, misleading the thoughts of others through clever omission, and indeed constructing falsehoods so believable that they are difficult to detect.

Embodying this power, Kaelhmor is the Trickster God, the Master of Illusions, and the Lord of Lies. With this Aspect he will deceive the world and so lead it according to his aims.

Persona
^{♦Charismatic ♦ Clever ♦ Dishonest♦}

♦♦♦

An enigmatic and thoughtful being of endless guile, Kaelhmor is not the sort of person that one would immediately identify as a liar or a scoundrel. Far from it, in fact, for he is at his face, a charming and silver-tongued deity, a being who chooses each and every word with effortless care. He is intelligent and has a gaze that stretches far beyond the present and into the moments that follow long after his path has crossed with yours.

He is slow to anger, easy to amuse, and often gentle even in his manipulations. He is not–as one might think–a compulsive liar and rather is quite pleasant to treat with. However, be warned, for Kaelhmor is still the Lord of Lies and while he is not compelled to falsehoods, he can lie more easily than mortals breathe, more readily than gods create or destroy, and to attempt to discern his true intent is a thing nearing impossibility. Further, while the Seer is slow to anger, his fury is no less terrible than any other god’s and thus one ought be wary of insulting him.

Myth

♦
♦

_

Aniryn woke that morning with a fire beneath his feet, driving him from his bed with great vigor, yet it was not to shy from heat but rather to exploit the energy it provided. Moving through his morning routine, he dressed before departing his home. He greeted his neighbors as he closed his door, slinging a pack over his shoulder as he did so. The blue-eyed man pushed the damp mop of his black hair from his eyes as he surveilled the small settlement in the early morning. Many men and women were up despite the hour, getting about their morning chores and errands before the day's heat beat down upon their heads. Intent on using every minute well, Aniryn joined them, moving with purpose as he greeted each and every one of his fellow villagers.

He'd taken up residence in the town some months ago, and now, having nested for such a time, he'd deemed this the day that things would truly begin. So as he moved through the sparse crowd and greeted his many neighbors with friendly 'good mornings' and glad tidings of the new day, he likewise slipped in suggestions of business later on. Having sewn the seeds of commerce for many moons, he would finally begin to reap his rewards as he opened up shop in the village square and gently coaxed his fellow man beneath the awnings of his small open-air shop.

The first two men to approach did so with their wives beside them, the men pretending at disinterest while the women admired his wares. Necklaces and earrings, pretty baubles for adornment, but the most prized of his creations lay hidden and out of sight as he waited to strike. Eventually, the two couples decided on a necklace and a bracelet respectfully, but before they could entirely depart, he companionably snared one husband's shoulder and whispered to the man conspiratorially.

"You know, I do have something that might catch your discerning eye," Aniryn said with a small smile and a twinkle in his eye. The man narrowed his gaze as he replied.

"I have no interest in your trinkets, Aniryn."

Aniryn held his hands up defensively, placating. "Ah, no mere trinkets, I'd not bother you with anything like that."

The husband raised an eyebrow, interest piqued, and turned to follow the merchant as they returned to his stall, just the two of them. Carefully, Aniryn unveiled the chest behind his table, then slowly opened its lid, revealing a small arrangement of rings and what at first appeared to be bracelets. The man glanced Aniryn's way, scoffing, "I thought you said you wouldn't be wasting my time." Aniryn shook his head.

"Never, sir, I don't waste the time of my valued customers."

Picking up one of the rings, Aniryn turned it over for the man to see the masterful craftsmanship. The man narrowed his eyes, "It is well made, I must admit, but that's hardly anything special."

Aniryn chuckled, "Well, it must at least be well made to be something worthy of you sir. However, its value is not in its appearance but in its function. With this ring, nothing will be out of your reach, sir."

"Hah, surely you jest. There is no such magic as this."

Aniryn only smiled, "Tell you what, I'll ask only a pittance of what you paid for your wife's jewelry, but if it does work...spread the word." For a long several moments, the man watched Aniryn's expression as if looking for the scheme, but he found nothing. So, after another moment's hesitation, he paid for the ring and departed. Long after he was gone, Aniryn chuckled to himself and turned back to coaxing others to his shop.

---

For the husband--Telor's--part little of note happened on his way home. Though he did happen upon some dropped coinage that surely brightened their day. When Telor and his wife Lin arrived at their house, however, something was different. There was a small crowd gathered, staring at his home as if in awe. Confused--though flattered--Telor spoke with them for a time, finding that they'd been stricken by the renovations they had made. Yet, Telor could not recall any changes at all. When he'd managed to get his neighbors to disperse and enter the house, all was as they left it.

Days passed, and things were always subtly better. People treated him and his family with more grace. Sometimes giving him gifts for no reason. The feud between him and the Hershells family ended, and they feasted together without a single screaming match, let alone any blows being thrown. Even his wife seemed to nag him less.

Yet...Telor did not keep his promise, and eventually, he one day took the ring off to bathe. Soon it was as if the world had turned harsh upon him. He slipped and fell in the bath, hurting his knee; one of the Hershell boys started a fight with his young son, leaving bruises and several unsightly gashes. Some men and women of the village even left nasty letters at his doorstep. Yet...he was unable to find the ring as if it had disappeared entirely.

Desperate, Telor returned to Aniryn's shop, this time alone.

Aniryn smiled and greeted Telor the same as always, but Telor took him in his hands and shook the merchant, rambling on about how he was cursed, about how Aniryn must have come and stolen the ring from him. Aniryn shrugged and gave him a small smile as he admitted that it was true.

"I did take the ring back. After all, you didn't keep your end of the bargain." Telor gapped and raised a fist, but Aniryn put a hand gently on his shoulder. "There's no need for that; we're friends, aren't we? Tell you what, you pay for the ring full price, and it is yours. I'll bother you no more. However, as before, you must spread the word of my wares."

Telor hesitantly agreed, desperate to go back to the idyllic life that apparently the ring had allowed him. So, he paid his fee, donned the ring, and vowed to tell others of Aniryn's wonders. In the days that followed, his life improved marginally, bit by bit, but it never seemed to be the miraculous thing that he'd known before. No, he was far too paranoid for that. Still, Aniryn's shop became the bustling center of the town, his already stellar reputation coupled with Tellor's kind words bringing much of the village's population to his doorstep--so to speak.

Soon, everyone had some bauble or trinket from his shop, all at full price though some thought themselves saving money in the transaction. Aniryn was good like that. With time the village grew such that it no longer could be governed simply by rumors and the whims of the commonfolk. So it was that a man named Chaisyl was raised to power. Now the governor, Chaisyl was shrewd and always on top of the gossip and the village's needs. Best of all, though, he'd purportedly bought the foremost of Aniryn's unique pieces. His was a necklace that he hid beneath his garments, never removing it from his flesh.

Yet, there was something that the townspeople began to notice about Chaisyl. He was off somehow. Though he wasn't displeasing to look upon, he wasn't precisely charming either, nor was he particularly well-spoken. Yet, all who walked away from their encounters with him found themselves feeling reassured. Yet, the village's functioning slipped somewhat, and its growth slowed. Eventually, Aniryn's shop closed up, and he said his farewells. One night, eight years later, a mischievous teen found his way into the governor's office where he found numerous documents...forged or falsified. He found evidence of the man's lies. His subtle manipulations, his impossible assurances.

There was a riot, the man was strung up in the field at a tree, and the villagers moved along with their lives.

But they were all less joyful for having killed the governor, but none of them could figure precisely why. Eventually, people came to doubt Aniryn's leftover jewelry, his rings and bracelets, and necklaces too. With the passing of days, they were discarded, and though nothing changed, everything was different. Neighbors were less kind to one another, crops seemed less bountiful, days less warm, while nights were colder. The world was bleaker, perhaps.

Yet, none of them quite knew why.

They never would.

Perhaps one day, a story would be told of the place and how the Lord of Lies had walked among them, but it was anyone's guess as to who they might have been. Aniryn? The governor? Perhaps it had been one of the wives who had drawn the husband's attention to Aniryn's shop. Perhaps it had been the Hershell boy who might have fibbed about Chaisyl's documents. It was impossible to say.

Nonetheless, it would leave Kaelhmor in the minds of men for a long time, even if they had no name by which to call him nor a face to ascribe to his existence.

Perhaps one day that would change.

Perhaps.

Visage
^{♦True Form♦}

♦
♦

Many faces, many forms, Kaelhmor is a being who is, by his nature, difficult to ascribe any singular appearance. Nonetheless, he does possess a favored form, which is depicted below.

_

^♦Facade♦

♦
♦

Unnamed and numberless are the countless guises of Kaelhmor.

Additional Arts

More may be added in the future.

[Chris488]

@yoshua171 Thank you for submitting your character sheet! Your character has been approved, and you may post your CS in the Character tab! I look forward to writing with you once again, and reading the story of Kaelhmor!

You shall receive the Pantheon role in the server as well, granting you access to more channels for discussion.

Blessed be those that become divine.

[Obsidian]

Tigris

Form:

The progenitor of many monstrous creatures, Tigris takes an imposing and twisted shape that strikes terror into the hearts of any that behold it. He rsembles his favourite children the mantygers, but he is not just a bigger version of them, he is far worse. His muscles are corded together like rope, veins full of black blood bulging out to give him an aberrant and unnatural looking physicality. He is massive, many-eyed, and with a great gangle of powerful limbs that jut with spines and terminate in rending, razor-sharp obsidian claws. Two massive wings can bear him through the air and buffet mortals and forests with their mighty winds, and Tigris's spine continues well past his rear legs as a tail with a vicious stinger at its tip. The mantyger god's venom is the single most deadly substance in the world. He has a lot of the poison at any given time, but his stinger can only dribble it out. Fortunately just a single drop is instant death. Because gods are more powerful it might take a whole lot of venom to kill them though, and they would probably feel some agony before they die.

Aspect:

As the progenitor and god of chimeric beasts, Tigris can spawn more of his brood very easily. His aspect covers making monstrous creatures of all different varieties, sizes, and adaptations, as long as they are a combination of beasts that exist in the world. He can also inherently sense the location and status of most chimera monsters because they are closely connected to him by blood, and he is the only one that can really communicate with them, order them around, and otherwise control them despite their limited intelligence. His aspect also covers making organized groups of hybrid creatures devoted to a purpose (holy orders of just monsters) or potentially transform other beings into more chimeric monsters. And of course as a monstrous creature himself, his aspect makes him a formidable monster even without any artifact armor or weapons. His stinger is very dangerous because his venom is extremely potent, and he can fly quite easily, and even hypnotize some lesser beings with his stare. This comes at a cost of making him constantly hunger for the flesh of mortals which means that few will ever willingly worship him.

Persona:

Tigris can be very cruel. He wants to plague the world with his own spawn and to watch them bring ruin and terror onto their hapless victims from above, but he is also smart and realizes that his spawn will share his prodigious appetite and that they cannot be allowed to simply kill everything. If they did they would starve, and other gods would likely band together to put an end to his oppression. So while he does not actually care much for worship or treasure, he will begrudgingly accept it in order to offer mortals protection from the very monsters that he creates to torment them. Over time he will often ask for a progressively steeper price, hoping that eventually the tributes will grow so great that the mortals refuse and can thus be hunted. Initially he is not egotistical, but this cycle will probably make him become arrogant and prideful to a fault if it isn't somehow stopped. If mortals or other gods remain ever polite and amicable even in the face of his spittle and demands, eventually he will grow bored and move on to torment more interesting prey, leaving them forgotten and reprieving them from their obligations to pay tribute. If other gods act the way he does and try to make demands of him, he will react violently and try to assert his own supremacy. If other gods try to hunt the mantygers or any of his other spawn, he will not care very much provided that it does not go past a certain extent. Killing a few of the weakest or slowest of his offspring is doing him a favor in a sense by cultivating stronger monsters, but killing too many of them and threatening to drive them extinct becomes an actual assault upon his aspect and power, and he would react violently to such a perceived assault. Unlike his offspring, which are utterly bestial and mostly devoid of higher intelligence, Tigris fancies himself wise and enjoys riddles. If mortals or other gods speak to him in rhyme or offer to exchange riddles with him and do well for themselves, it is said that he will recognize them as wise too. He generally respects and does not harm so called wise beings, and he may even offer them a gift. But if on the other hand the mortal or other god poses a riddle unto him and he cannot solve it, he may lash out violently for having been made to feel foolish. Helping him find the answer with hints is therefore smart, so long as he doesn't perceive the hints as too condescending. He also despises other monsters that are not his spawn such as dragons and unicorns.

Myth:

Okblog was a mighty troll. He was also a clever troll because he had discovered it's easier to eat stupid travelers if you hide under a bridge and come out to bash them over the head, rather than if you just run at them yelling so that they have time to react. Strong, clever Okblog was returning to his rocky lair one day with a sack full of ears, his favorite treat, then the mountain trembled. At first he was afraid that it was a rockslide, and he got ready to smash any falling boulders with his club. But there were no falling boulders, so he kept walking down the goat path.

But then the mountain heaved again. This time Okblog thought it was an earthquake, so he hugged a scraggly tree root tight so that he wouldn't fall. He hugged it like his life depended upon it or like it was his troll mother's toe. But it wasn't an earthquake either. Clever Okblog didn't know of anything besides earthquakes or rockslides that could shake the mountains, so he was confused. But then a gigantic head peeked down at him from over the lip at the top of the cliff. The head had a smiling jaw filled with more layers of teeth than the troll could count (but he wasn't very good at counting) and each tooth was like a jagged rock the size of his mighty club. The head was monstrous though and had a lot of eyes, even more eyes than there were ears in Okblog's snack bag. All of its eyes were like angry bleeding suns, and its nostrils were like cavernous tunnels, and its voice...it spoke!

"Tiny tiny little troll, Tigris sees you,
and Tigris is hungry -- what should Tigris do?"

Okblog was both terrified and confused now. He dropped the bag full of ears. "Eat sumfin!" he told the gigantic scary mantyger.

Tigris snorted, and coiled as if to lunge.

"Eat anyfin'!" the panicked troll called out, and then Tigris relaxed.

He leaned forward over the cliff and dug his claws into the rocky precipice as long neck stretched all the way down to sniff at the troll on the goat path below.

"But what to eat, what might Tigris eat?
Not stock or rock or stone or bone, but meat!
Tigris smells a smell he hasn't smelt in years,
the scent of raw, bloody ears!"

"You can have this sack o' ears," the troll told him then. "But go, cause you makin' me a fears!"

A gigantic tongue swiped out from the beast's maw, catching the ears, their sack, and some of the gravelly ground too. The god-monster swallowed them all in one second without even a gulp.

"A troll that finds, a troll that can rhyme,
truly a find, the greatest troll of all time!"

Okblog scratched his head confused. "Hu-" he started, but then the mantyger's monstrous tail shot down from above with a whiplike snap. The stinger which was as big as Okblog's torso dangled before his head. The tiny point began to dribble a tiny bit of black ichor.

"A troll that drinks is a troll that flies,
and no longer troll but a chimera, in my eyes."

Okblog didn't understand and he was scared. He stood frozen and watched as a drop of venom fell onto the rocky ground and steamed upon a rock. The troll tried to make a run for it past Tigris and back for his nearby cave lair, but he tripped and his face planted down right on the sizzling rock. A tiny bit of the venom touched his lips and he shuddered and screamed for a long time. By the time Okblog the mantyger finally rose up his adoptive father was long gone.

Musical Theme:

_{((I read the OP thoroughly))}

[Obsidian]

Been Beijing-Busy these last few days brothers, but I got this new CS worked out now. Felt like everyone was dunking on Tigris and didn’t like him so I just got the dough back out to bake a whole new monster pizza.

New CS

O . O . O . O . O

Form:

The progenitor of many monstrous creatures, Euphrates takes an imposing and twisted shape that strikes terror into the hearts of any that behold it. He has a serpentine bulk, but huge feathered wings unshackle him from the ground. Gigantic flaying talons take the place of arms or hands, suitable for ripping and destroying but not for fine crafting or more delicate work. His monstrous visage is crowned by feathers instead of hair; his eyes are two great dying coals that perpetually burn and seeth with fury, his tongue is long like a bird’s but forked like a snake’s and envenomed like a frog’s, and he has great jet-black teeth like jagged shards of obsidian.

Euphrates is cursed by his nature to forever bear serpentine scales, a fact that he greatly resents. He can shift away from his favored form into smaller and more humanoid forms when subtlety or a less imposing stature is called for, but the scales are invariably present. The bright feathers sprouting from him, and the ornaments that he sometimes wears, the robes or shadows that he might shroud himself with, are intended to distract the eye away from the monstrous scales. Though Euphrates finds his scales hideous and humiliating, they are a divine armor of sorts more impenetrable than any mortal-wrought steel could ever hope to be, and at least offer a great deal of protection.

Aspect:

Euphrates is the Great Venin, Miasma, Malignancy, Pestilence, Toxicant, Malediction.

He lords over the aspect of Poison, be it the venom that arrests hearts and thickens blood and darkens flesh, the substance that consumes a healthy mind and leaves on an addict that wastes away the shell of his own body, or a tumorous thought that grows and twists until it corrupts noble intentions into baser ones.

So, to elucidate: ordinary poisons serve Euphrates. Burning toxin flows through his veins instead of blood and noxious fumes pour from his maw instead of breath, and his body’s own venom is more deadly a substance than any other in creation. His venom is so potent that it can defile, weaken, and often dissolve even inanimate matter like stone, metal, or even glass flask. With these powers, he makes corpses of his enemies.

Drugs, alcohol, and other intoxicating or addictive substances serve Euphrates too. The desire and craving for such vices drags hapless victims into his service and worship, and into a vicious cycle of death and misery that can rarely be escaped. With these powers, he makes slaves of his enemies.

Doubt, envy, greed, malice, and the like serve Euphrates also. They are poisons of a sort, after all; however, their target is the mind instead of the body, and so they act slowly and less predictably, but perhaps are all the more insidious. Euphrates’ mastery over these spiritual poisons is weaker and not so absolute as his control over the physical manifestations of his aspect, but nonetheless, his presence and will can project lasting touches upon the minds of others. Those with a strong will can overcome these poisons though, and those who are especially perceptive may sense his corruption in themselves or even in others. Yet to sense his touch is not to cure it; warning a victim of his curse might help by virtue of their newfound awareness spurring them to action, but if they are not disciplined or strong of will, their psyche could still succumb. With these powers, he disfigures the very souls of his enemies.

Persona:

As befits his aspect, Euphrates is vitriolic. His temperament is a bitter and petty one; even the smallest of perceived slights is wont to provoke him to seek out dire vengeance. He is envious and possesses a deep inferiority complex; he would very much like to be loved or admired, but because he knows that his aspect and his scales will prevent any mortals or fellow gods from ever genuinely feeling such things, he instead contents himself with sowing terror and inspiring fear.

In his interactions with others, he will often fish for praise. If he receives it, he often finds himself in a magnanimous and kind mood… for a time. Nicely asking him to curse one’s enemies or cure the poisons that ail another can work, provided that he is lavished with enough praise and the compliments feel genuine enough that he doesn’t feel blatantly manipulated. Looking too closely at his scales, let alone remarking upon them, is a surefire and quick way to trigger a bout of explosive anger from the Great Venin.

Myth:

Okblog was a mighty troll. He lived under a bridge and robbed stupid merchants that tried to cross his river. One day a fat man crossed hauling a whole wagon full of apples. Okblog bashed that fat man and took all of the apples, but his bashing was so vigorous and bashing that he accidentally smashed some of the apples too.

After he ate the merchant and the apples that hadn’t been squashed, he flipped the wagon over the bridge and went to sleep. The ambushing and bashing continued for many days to come, but eventually the wagon started to stink of rotting fruit. When Okblog went to inspect it, he saw some of the mashed apples still clinging to the planks. He poked one, and it was like jelly. A strange biting and cloying smell filled the air, and when Okblog licked his finger, there was a very strange apply taste indeed. Before he knew what he was doing, Okblog found himself licking the rest of the fermented apple juice off the wagon’s wooden boards.

Okblog had a crisis of faith that day and decided to stop ambushing merchants. Instead, he followed the path that led to his bridge, searching for wherever that one wagon-bearing merchant had found the mystical red fruits. He journeyed for many days, dreaming of the delicious juice by night and bashing those that he came across by day. Flesh no longer seemed to taste so sweet, though. The world, once so bright, now seemed withered and gray.

When he finally came upon an apple orchard, the troll should have bashed the farmers who lived there in their hut, but the apples were too tempting. They glowed like great glistening red rubies in the sun. He snatched a thousand of them from the trees, left them one giant heap, and then jumped on top of it. He bashed and smashed the apples with both his hands and his feet, then he paced around the pulverized heap all day, his mouth watering at the thought of finally having more cider. He was so consumed by his vision that he didn’t even notice the farmhand that had seen him, didn’t even hear the armored knights stomping down the road as they came in search of him.

Musical Theme:


_{((I read the OP thoroughly))}

@Chris488 Tell me what you think of this one mang.

[Chris488]

@Obsidian Thank you for submitting your character sheet! Your character has been approved, and you may post your CS in the Character tab! I look forward to reading the story of Euphrates!

You shall receive the Pantheon role in the server as well, granting you access to more channels for discussion.

Blessed be those that become divine.

[Legion02]

Ithril, Ruin-Lord

Ithril

The Ruin-Lord || Calamity || The Duke of Spiders || Prime Cabalist

Base form

Aspects

Ruin

Ruin is the ultimate expression of annihilation. It is the purest form of destruction. Something utterly ruined should be completely gone. Vanished, not just from the physical world but also from the minds and memories of the people. When something is ruined, there is no more accursed hope for its salvation. It can never be repaired.

Ithril sees ruin not as a senseless act of violence as it is often seen. It is one-half of Change. The green summer leaves must die, be destroyed, and even be devoured entirely if the tree wishes to bloom the next year. Even evergreens must toss their creations to the ground. There is not always room to create something new. Destruction becomes a necessity then. Sometimes someone else actively resists the change around them, most often because they have a vested interest in everything staying the same. More so then, should they be toppled.

Destruction and ruin cleanse the slate. It makes space for something new. Ithril does not hate life or creation. He cherishes it deeply but understands that nothing should stay static, and everything should be challenged.

Persona

The Lord of Destruction has a surprisingly level-headed mind. He takes a keen interest in any and all creations of his kin. Above all else he loves to test said creations, to see how capable they are of change. Often times said tests can be seen as cruel or malevolent. Ithril cares little for such moralities. Though he does understand that his wishes, his desires, will make him an enemy to many.

When interacting with others he thinks mostly transactional. He gives and takes all according to a carefully measured balance. Mortals make interesting wages too, most often when they are most desperate. His goal is to test all creations, either directly or through his agents. Of course, his agents get something in return for their effort.