[IC] Godhood - A Tale of Deities

[SillyGoy]

Godhood A Tale of Deities

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The Plot:

­­ Centuries have passed since the War in Heaven, and Ceyr's wounds have only begun to close and scar. Great canyons forcibly gouged out by powers incomprehensible still crisscross the planet as it tries to get rid of them, but that would take many millennia. Mortal civilizations were utterly destroyed during the climactic battle between the Golden One and its great and terrible children, and even under the wisdom of gods they still cannot compare to the greatness of their ancestors. Where are the skyships they used to conquer the very skies? Where are the great arcologies, with societies where one might live amongst millions but still find genuine fulfillment of self? They are gone, and some for good. Humans, dwarves, orcs and elves and other races have meekly crawled back to the surface from the deepest caves, holding only scraps of the legacy of their great grandparents. In their desperation, they scurry around the ruins of once-great cities, finding ancient knowledge to rediscover and remaster as they begin to reforge what was lost. But it is not only the mortals who have suffered from the death of their creator, the Golden One. The ancient spirits used to be able to crack whole continents, but now can only destroy cities -- and even that takes whole minutes to complete; for all magic was and still is tied to the essence of the Creator. What few are left of the great body count the Golden One's scythe reaped from their numbers during the War in Heaven feel regret, from killing their Mother and Father; remorse, from their inaction when their brothers and sisters took up arms; or sorrow, from not having done enough to protect the Golden One. No mortal inhabits the new realms of Aett, Realm of Love, and Hades, Realm of Hatred, for these are the domains of the spirits. Angels in the former want to see the Golden One live again, but neither the gods nor the demons believe it can be done. The gods of Ceyr, Realm of Life, have decided that they cannot dwell in the past, and must forge on to a new future, however bleak it is; but the angels and demons believe this to be foolish, for what are they without the Golden One? And the demons create the most terrible of artifacts and dabble in creation -- something which only the Golden One could do -- in an attempt to emulate their Creator, and perform the most gruesome and disgusting of magics to meet their goals, arguing that the end justifies the means; but the angels and the gods believe this to be blasphemy, in addition to simply being repulsive, arrogant and insufferably pretentious. But for all their conflicts, the ancient spirits have one clear desire in mind: a return to the glory they once knew, when the land wasn't cracked and rivers of light still flowed from their benevolent Creator onto Ceyr. Only five dozen ancient spirits remain, out of many thousands, and they are all so weak. Survivors of a conflict that should not have been. Doomed to a forsaken future, haunted by a happy past, and living in a depressing present. But there is hope. There is a summons to the Tower of Broken Dreams, a gargantuan, ancient structure of glass, marble and sapphire on Ceyr once utilized by a close group of ancient spirits in an age long forgotten. Who they were and how they used the place is irrelevant, but it is remarkable that the building still stands, given the War in Heaven, and the tithes demanded by time as it goes by. The message, conveyed by Thirianna, figurehead of the angels, invites all the children of the Golden One -- her fellow angels, the gods, the demons and even the upstarts -- to discuss the future. She claims the dismembered corpse of the Golden One stirs in the void between the three worlds of Aett, Ceyr and Hades; she claims that the Origin's magnificent soul is reforming. She speaks of the impossible, that the Creator is rising from its grave. Indeed, this is something to bring the fractious natures of angel, god, demon and upstart together as simply Spirits united under Its All-knowing Gaze. As a spirit, a direct child of the Golden One, it is imperative that you attend. Journey to the Ullanor Wastelands, enter the Tower of Broken Dreams, and take a seat. Fate needs to be discussed. ­

­ Tower of Broken Dreams, Ceyr ————————————————————————— At the crests of the dunes, the desert breeze caught the red sand and made sprays of them that diffused elegantly with the hot air. Aun, mother star of Ceyr, looked on harshly through nigh-cloudless skies at the desolate landscape that belied little of its glorious past, when its sand was fertile soil, and made up rolling hills and plains instead of featureless dunes whereupon an abundance of wretched, low-bellied creatures like scorpions and snakes now crisscrossed their soft surfaces. Indeed, this was wild country that tested the mettle of even the hardiest of creations that tried to make a living here, as evidenced by a lone juvenile Ironwood tree in the distance, its dead, black branches swept with sand, and its body half-buried in the powder. Fitting that a kilometer underneath its roots, the ancient city of Roma, capital of the human Imperium Ferrum, lay in deathly slumber: the tree that they made a proud icon of in the past now marked their graves in the present. But breaking the monotony of sands and scattered, ominous objects in the Ullanor Wastelands was a gleaming tower of white that stretched almost to the clouds. Supported by giant buttresses that curved as they tapered towards the very top of the structure, Aun's light caught the rounded gemstones that regularly broke the smoothness of its surface -- rubies, emeralds, amethysts, but sapphires consisted the most of them -- and arrayed a rainbow of colors to anyone looking at the tower from any direction where they could see it. And at its foot, there was an obvious depression of the sand that surrounded it, obviously not a natural work but one that allowed access to the heavy double-doors that consisted much of its entrance. Made with marble as with most of the structure and gilded with gold, a book's worth of runes was etched onto the doors' surfaces, but the most meaningful ones roughly read: "Hope is the first step on the road to disappointment." While its superficial message was obvious, the unpleasantness that was life after the War in Heaven made Vaul muse for a moment of its deeper meanings, before gesturing with a flick of his wrist and setting aglow the runes, the myriad characters -- each not just a letter but a whole concept unto itself -- lighting up in clockwise manner. The Elven God of Smiths found his eyes following every activating rune, until blue luminescence covered the entirety of the doors, then was suddenly extinguished. He idly put a foot back a pace as the locking mechanism depressed the doors inward and finally parted them away and into ports in the walls, revealing a rather spartan foyer whose only eye-striking object was the beginning of a long, winding staircase that spiraled towards the the very top of the Tower of Broken Dreams. Vaul felt annoyance tug at the back of his heart as he activated the lumen globes that filled niches in the wall at intervals. His armor, made of the finest mithril and decorated with reliefs that portrayed in himself in baroque sculpture as he was written in the grandest of Elven epics, bent like a second skin and made no sound as he skipped every other step in his impatience, such was its quality. The lumen globes were the only source of light inside of the Tower, save for the opening at the very end towards where the staircase gently tapered towards, wherefrom Aun's light poured in rays. There were one thousand, one hundred eleven steps to make in order to reach the rooftop, but Vaul's feet, in his haste, landed on only half that number. And when he surmounted the final step, the frown on his face contrasted with the smile of the figure at the opposite side of the amphitheater of sorts, leaning against the colonnaded parapet. "Thirianna," Vaul said, the name uttered with ambivalent colors of hatred and jealousy, compassion and love, relief and regret. "I have never been a fan of bothersome theatrics." The angel but fluttered her magnificent wings and smiled wider into a grin. Crowned by hair of gold, locks exquisitely curled and long as they fell upon her back and ample chest, with a soft face, deep eyes, and lips whose smiles promise everything, and frowns inspire guilt and broken hearts, this was Thirianna, the Guardian Arch-Angel. Clad in white sleeveless robes that fluttered mystically with the breeze, she held in her life-giving hand a long lance which she was using at the moment as a sort of walking stick, and it intimidated Vaul the moment he set eyes on the weapon, for he still remembered how it pierced through even his armor and drew his blood all those centuries ago... "You have done your siblings a favor: at least they will not have to bother with the door and the lumen globes. It is good to see you too, Vaul, after so many years." "Yes, yes," the smith god said quickly, eliminating the crease of his scowl. "But could you not have picked a more welcoming venue? The sand in the wind irritates my ears." "Ah, but there is no better venue," Thirianna said, as she set herself off the railing and walked calm steps towards the only other figure on the rooftop. "For this is where we recognized our sin, and this is where we shall begin our journey towards redemption." Vaul stepped forward as well. "So you dragged me from the Forests of Ulthanesh into the rough spot on Kharnath's arse because of symbolism?" The angel gave a chuckle. Were Kharnath still alive, he would not have taken that slight well. "Pretty much." There was a silence when they had come within feet of each other, and they both found their eyes examining the figure of the other. Their armor, their clothing, their skin, hair and ornaments. It lasted for a few seconds, ending with the two parties staring each other in the eye, and through the action communicating wordlessly. Vaul was first to break the stare, and looked and gestured to his left, where there were seats like ascending stair-steps fashioned from a single piece of marble and shaped into a wide semicircle that hugged the parapet. "I presume I am the first of my ilk to be here. But where are Aesir, Sophia, Sita, and Maugan Ra -- the other four angels?" Vaul asked, but when there was no reply after a few seconds, he returned his gaze to his elder sister, who looked at him with hurt. "What?" he was genuinely bewildered. "Brother and sister who last met wearing masks of death and stoking the flames of hatred in their hearts, now reunited after so long, and the former acts detached and cold." Vaul bitterly chuckled. "Forgive me, sister, but you tried to kill me." Thirianna shook her head in disapproval. "I had to. You were hurting our Creator, but the return of the Golden One heralds a new age, an era of reclaiming. Let us forget the sins and the selfishness and the grievances of the past, and instead forge on with love and understanding. Is it the lance," she lifted the weapon a few inches up, "that intimidates you?" "Yes," Vaul admitted, his lips pursing at the last syllable as he suppressed a feral growl, and quelled the reflex action to take the handle of his sheathed runesword. "And its wielder. The scars have not healed." "Brother," Thirianna beckoned, extending her free hand as she stepped forward. "Please forgive me. Embrace me." But Vaul merely held a palm up and retreated, not looking her in the eyes. "No, no. You know my memory is perfect. I cannot forgive such trespasses against me so easily. When I think of the War, Thirianna, I feel pain as your accursed weapon nearly tore me apart. Even now, my body aches as my mind relives that time. And you haven't answered my question." The angel looked deflated, and ceased her approach. With her voice lacking some color, she began to answer: "Aesir and the others are attending business regarding the Resurrection. There is no point for them to be here, as they already know everything." "Ah yes, because you people so jealously guard the majority of our Maker's corpse up there in Aett. So us gods and our demon brethren, while we feel our Parent stir, know only so little." "Mhm," Thirianna seemed unperturbed at the accusation, even proud of it. "But you forget to mention our younger siblings." "The upstarts?" Vaul raised a brow. "You consider them to be our kindred?" "Even Itone, yes." And at this, the smith god looked offended. "Now, hush, and let us continue our talk at the railings, where we might behold our siblings as they approach from below."

[Forsythe]

The air came still, as if nature itself held it’s breath as she approached. The snakes and scorpions hasted away from her path, feeling her anxiety. For the first time since the War in Heaven, all were present in her realm - Angels, Demons AND Gods. The huge blue tiger walked through the desert at a slow pace. Hiraga did not want to go - She was their eldest, and she learned long time ago that past wounds open all too easily. She could feel the Nature shiver as most of what remained of the golden One’s power gathered in the middle of the sands. It was only the thought of her creator’s return that made her come. She could still remember it’s demise as if it was yesterday. The pain in her core as the death wail of her creator echoed through all of Existence nearly drove the guardian mad. In the end her precious world lied in ruins, a shadow of it’s former self, accompanied by two new realms. If there was a chance to make everything like it once was, Hiraga was willing to listen. In the past century, she felt weak and mellow - a sign that something wonderful had to be in the making. And yet, as she now looked upon the Tower of Broken Dreams, one question haunted her: If the remains of their forefather were indeed reforming, what would they actually become in the end? Their gathering place was indeed aptly named to convey her fear. The most prominent runes on the building’s door seemed to be the fates laughing at the straws they were clinging to. For indeed, all Hiraga could think of was how volatile this gathering was. The war to end all wars could very well start here today. This time, no one would be spared. The guardian shook her head to banish the thoughts. She could discuss predicting opinions on the future when Sohena arrived. For now, she had to be vigilant. Looking into the ancient building, she saw the stairs that led upwards. Shifting to a shape of a dragon, she ascended the stairwell in a few beats of her wings before landing on her feet in a more accommodating shape of one of her dryads. Aside from her, she could see only two others have made it yet. It took her a few moments to recognize Vaul. His beautifully crafted armor was in her memory, but they almost never talked and his name was lost in her memory. The other though, she recognized immediately. Thirianna; the Guardian Arch-Angel. Her equal of Aett, as far as their power and status went. She would never consider the flawed archangel her equal, as during the war, Hiraga was mortified by the idea of taking up arms against her brethren. Yet this ‘Lightbringer’ ran a lance through the other in this room without much hesitation. “Welcome to Ceyr once again, Arch-Angel.” the guardian regarded her sister coldly, as if meaning to say ‘Be gone from my realm’. “Vaul.” she said with a headbow, her tone much more kind.

[King Solterra]

Ruined Small Temple, Ceyr Neveras suddenly from the spiritual cage he was held in, exhausted, tired, feeling beaten, he groaned loudly in pain as it took everything he had to escape. And at that moment, the spiritual cage dispersed itself, releasing the old seal to alert all the spirits that remained that 'Neveras has escaped, if he regains his power, he may kill all spirits.' Neveras strained his body and took a great gasp of air, finally able to see the world around him, and everything coming to him. The chains kept him weighted down, but not to the ground. But he couldn't think about that right now, any of the original spirits that wanted him dead, and still remained, would surely come back to the temple as it is where he comes out at... he had to regain his strength and run. Perhaps everyone would go to Sohena for answers, or go straight to Neveras for his throat? He quickly stood up, "Dammit, what... happened, while I was gone?" He took a quick glance around. Obviously the temple he was sealed in... which was like an affront to him as it was his temple which was used as the bridge to his own cage.... was crumbling. So much had changed since before he was cast out. But thinking time was over. He is undetectable by the other spirits, but because of the chains it was like a metal detector if they got close. Neveras sighed, standing up with an aching sort of body. Whether or not his body was effected like a Mortals or not, he was purposed to be one with the Mortals. Have their emotions, feelings, personalities, everything. He would feel their pain, their sorrow, as well, not just their happiness. Neveras sprouted his wings, though frustratingly with struggle, out came an angelic wing and a demonic wing, and he jumped up, to soar and find a new place to restart his life, hopefully to find a Mortal colony, and to find out the current devastation of Ceyr.

[EsmetheGreat]

As adaptable a traveller as she considered herself to be, and as practically bound to the notion that so long as you can lead an legion of foot soldiers across it, Voana had no strict terrain preference. Nonetheless, she did not like a desert in any shape or form, for despite her own experience telling her that a legion could charge across it, Voana did not trust a desert, too wary of the unnatural and unpredictable way any path you might fight to claim, would seep and change beneath your feet at the slightest fell of foot. As she continued her stride forwards, the leather reins clutched in her right hand and pulling along the sand-horse behind her, Voanas mind saw fit to summon memories of the Battle of Roqagh, a mortal skirmish over a Citadel on the Sands of the East. Truthfully, Voana had thought it a petty conflict, Roqagh certainly a pretty monument to Elven architecture but not of any importance to a Ancient like Voana, nonetheless it promised to be a fun enough war and Voana had slipped within the ranks of the invaders with no small measure of anticipation. Following months of toiling siege, the army Voana belonged to had broken through the outer walls guarding the great plain of desert that lay before the Citadel and, in their battle-born arrogance had charged towards the city almost instantly. Voana had considered that such a war between Humans and Elves would have attracted the participation of others of her kin, and she had been right. A Sister, Oena, who had the talent of shifting all matter itself into any shape she desired, had met them, stood atop a parapet of the Citadel in the distance, tiny and unseen by all but Voanas keen eyes, the sight had stopped her in her tracks. Those in the army who had raced past her and on towards the city had experienced the earth fall out from under them, Oena commanding the sands and sweeping them into a wave that encompassed half of the plain, blotting out the redness of Aun and sending thousands into a deep dark pit where no man could gain footing against the seamless granules of the sand walls. Those that survived the fall, were suffocated and crushed as Oena released her wave and sent the great mass of sand to descend on them, their cries for mercy melting into the earth as the desert again settled into a smooth plain. In the midst of her recollection, as swept up by the remembered emotions of shock and horror, Voana gave a calculating glare at the desert around her, her steps faltering and her hands clenching at the sudden panicking surety that the sands would seize up once again and turn and envelope them in a red deluge. From her seat atop the sand-horse, Itone called out a questioning and raspy "Voana?", concerned as to why their small caravan had ceased movement. Piercing through her like a cool, fresh and entirely welcome breeze, the voice of her Wife shook Voana from her thoughts and paranoia and she re-adjusted herself, tsking quietly at her foolishness. There was no need to fear Oena and her sand, the Ancients smirking face had been cleaved from her shoulders by Voana herself not an hour after her sand tricks. "It's nothing to worry over..." she called back to Itone, turning to the side and moving her eyes away from the sands and up towards what could be seen of her Wifes face through the thick scarf wrapped around her shoulders and head. Itone as stubborn and unyielding as she was, was a true Northerner in body, and had no head for such harsh, unforgiving heat. The Shield-Maiden had suffered one of her flashes a mere day after arriving in the ramshackle port-town Nursia where they had sailed from the North after receiving the summons. Voana had refused to continue until she deemed her Wife fit to travel onwards across the dunes to their destination, and even then had insisted on Itone taking residence atop the sand-horse ('camel' the merchant had called it) for the duration of the two-day trek across the desert. Itone peered down at Voana, her eyes glinting suspiciously for several short seconds before she relinquished the concern with a pointed, "If you say so...", her voice again raspy and dry enough to provoke concern in Voana instead. Voanas brow furrowed, her left hand dropping to the pack at her waist, fetching her water-skin and holding it up towards Itone, who regarded it with a chastising air and the bundle of scarves that helmeted her head tilting to the side. Voana presented her Wife with an admonishing look of her own, "You should drink my love, you need not worry of wasting it-" Voana asserted firmly, tilting her chin upwards at the tall dune they stood at the bottom of, "-we're almost there." With a slow sigh, Itone leaned down and took the water-skin from Voanas hand, seizing back up into her perch before pulling down the hem of her scarf, exposing her mouth. After taking a long gulp, she sighed again, this time with an air of appreciation, and sat back in her seat, looking up in the direction Voana indicated. "It'll be nice to get out of this heat." Itone admitted, Voana releasing a grunt in agreement before turning back to her task, pulling on the reins to make the sand-horse approach the dune. As they began the climb, Voana called back to her Wife again, "It's a shame my Brother Hotar is not here to give you relief-" she stifled a smile at the look of confusion she imagined would be on her Wifes face. "He had a fine ability of changing the weather, nothing large mind, there were plenty who prayed for him to reverse a famine for a whole nation only to be dismayed to find he had no such power..." Voana continued, pushing the brunt of her strength into forcing the sand-horse further up the dune, "but the immediate area, yes...I imagine he could have made it rain for us, or at least just a little cooler." She cast a spurning gaze up at the cloudless sky, but upon hearing her Wife release a considering sound she turned to look over her shoulder. Itone peered down at her again, a thin line across her visible lips, "You refer to this Brother of yours in the past tense...so I'm assuming he's dead." Voanas nodded slightly, "Aye, he fell during the great war..." she explained, turning her face back towards her task, a smile twisting onto her lips as she finished, "...under my sword of course." Her smile morphed into a grin at Itones short bark of laughter. "See that's really it, that sort of thing tells me so much about you" Itone alleged in a half-amused drawl, "of the few stories you DO tell me of your kin, more than half of them end with" she wove a hand in the air "'and I killed them.'" "Well it seems I'm becoming repetitive, You must be getting tired of me." Voana chuckled. "Getting close to it." Itone sang swiftly in reply, helping to alleviate some weight on the upwards climb, leaning forward in her seat and pulling up the pack tied onto the back of the camel behind her. Soon enough, they crested the dune and found themselves looking out across a wide landscape not wholly dissimilar to that they had travelled across for two days now. What was different about the view was the great monument in the distance, towering and magnificent even from where they stood, maybe half a league away. Itone felt her brow raise and heard her voice take on an faintly impressed tone as she asked, "Is that it?", thinking of all the scattered scraps of ruins buried in the sands they had ambled past the last two days, surely this structure that captured the light of Aun so beautifully could not be counted among them? Voana brought them to a steady halt atop the dune, breathing in shortly before releasing the breath in a slow sigh, "Aye...That's it." The Tower of Broken Dreams was as opulent and imposing as she remembered, glittering and splendid in the rays of Aun as if it still stood as an indication of present power and glory, and not as a monument that had withstood a thousand deaths and conflicts, surviving as a testament to a lost greatness. So gripped by the hazy but pleasing recollections of true power that the sight of the tower summoned was Voana that she didn't register her Wife calling her name, hearing but a muffled shout before receiving a sharp prod between her shoulders that snapped her attention back to the present once more, turning to look up at Itone with a furrowed brow and a questioning expression. Itone gave her Wife a narrowed glance before pointing down below them, "Someone's there." Voana snapped her head to follow the direction of Itones gesture, understanding her Wifes caution and inching her free hand to rest on the scabbard strapped to her hip on instinct. Taking a small step forward, Voana leaned over to glimpse down into the small valley that formed between the hill of their dune and the dune following it, and rested her sharp gaze on the lone figure that stood at the bottom of it. The being, tall and slender and accompanying a shadow that stretched behind her before melting away into the sand, looked up at Voana, their face still and calm and overall expectant, was instantly recognisable to her. Sohena

[Art of Fun]

The wings of a Pahoet Thunderbird, among one of largest avian wingspans of the animal world, not known for their speed but rather endurance flying. Gliding towards the sky-piercing structure, the wings carried something evidently too small for them; Varavana came, heralded by the gusts of wind kicked up by the colossal wings. Upon landing his body returned to its 'normal' state as a sort of mix between a jade robed human child and other mortal species. This was a significant event, and not one he was all too positive about. While he was honoured to have been invited to be among his most elder relatives, he did not seek nor anticipate the revival of the Golden One like many of them. The idea made little sense to him; if an entity that grand can both die and inspire his ancient children to war, then why should it be brought back? Had one atrocious mistake of a conflict not been enough? The mortals, inheritors of Ceyr, would not survive something like that. Not again. Varavana scaled the stairs, the sorting of his thoughts making time pass by the young Upstart much quicker. Before he knew it, Varavana found himself approaching the other three present attendees. He had never met an Ancient in person, Varavana realised at that moment. They always seemed very distant from the world of Ceyr, even if they were present on it. Difficult to reach for one such as Varavana, who paid no allegiances beyond some form of general loyalty to mortals. However, now he knew for the future what it would feel like to meet an Ancient outside this tower. They were distinct from the world, each of them. As he looked upon the faces of Vaul, Thirianna and Hiraga, he found himself unable to completely process what they were feeling - and for a highly empathic entity like Varavana, that was significant. Was that simply due to their nature as Ancients, or had their age hardened them from being read in such a manner? Of course, being able to read their feelings and being able to read the mood of a room are two completely different things. He would have to be senseless to not notice the overwhelming tension, mostly directed at the unfamiliar Arch-Angel. But of course, like the chasms on Ceyr, the wounds of their long-gone war had yet to close. Relationships were still understandably strained between the two former sides of the war, and that would only become more and more evident if other Ancients showed themselves. Varavana broke out of his momentary thoughts once more, and placed his hands in his sleeves and bowed his head in respect and deference to the Ancients. He held the bow as he spoke, a voice that lacked any clear distinction as male or female, but was simply 'pleasant'. "Honoured Ancients, I extend my thanks for inviting one such as myself to this forum." He raised his head, looking between them once more with a smile. "I am Varavana, and I hope our discussion can be fruitful."

[RoflsMazoy]

Gaon stifled a yawn as he looked forward at the approaching tower. He was a little tired, he’d been riding for a few days now. The clouds swept past beneath him, as the wingbeats of the griffin propelled them forward. I wonder why it’s called the Tower of Broken Dreams. He thought airily. It looks like a good old normal dream to me. The glittering tower was his destination. Apparently all spirits had been called to it, something about the Creator or the Golden One. Gaon was probably the only spirit that hadn’t been around when the Creator died, he really wasn’t sure how he was created. As he pondered, the deer in his lap raised its head and snuggled in between his crossed arms. He patted its furry head for a little before it put its head back down and went back to sleep. "Why were you created with me anyway?" He said to the deer. It looked at him quizzically. Gaon knew it didn't know. It only knew as much as he did. Either way, it didn’t really matter. They were both spirits now, and they had been called. Speaking of the call, we’re here. The Griffin flew past the top of the Tower, giving a rather cinematic view of the gleaming tower of stained glass and gem stones. The light reflecting from tower threw up a rainbow of colours as the Griffin perched on the edge of the rooftop. Gaon picked up his deer and jumped off of the back of the Griffin and landed on the solid rooftop of the Tower. He set his deer down and turned to wave cheerily at the Griffin as it left. ”See ya Alto!” He shouted to the Griffin. ”Stay safe!” The Griffin squawked in goodbye as it flew off into the rays of Aun. The Griffin was a friend of his, just as many were. Surprisingly enough, almost all of his friends were animals and the like, even though he was once human. Well, that hardly matters. There was no point in dwelling on it, he was here for the meeting and nothing else. He turned towards the auditorium on the roof. What he saw was quite a strange sight all things considered. There was a massive glowing blue tiger, seemingly glaring in unison with a richly clad armoured elf; at a kindly looking angel holding an impressive lance like a crutch, and some really weird hybrid child/person who really didn't seem to be able to read the mood. All of them radiated intense power, but the child/person less so. Maybe this kind of thing was a regular occurrence? Gaon knew he was extremely young by the standards of most spirits. This kind of thing certainly seemed like something that would happen if an immortal family met after a war that they were on different sides of. The war he had missed, which apparently had killed the Creator. And the Creator was the topic of discussion as well. How strong are they, I wonder? He thought. Actually, am I early? There really wasn’t anyone else there on the roof besides the five of them. He looked over the edge behind him, but it was difficult to see if there were any approaching visitors. He saw three people fairly close to each other but that was it. Maybe he was early. Looking back at the amphitheatre however, he sort of didn’t want to sit in one of the seats while the ancients there were busy glaring each other down. It would probably be a bit awkward. With a lack of alternatives, Gaon shrugged and sat where he was, fishing rod in his lap and deer looking on with curiosity at his side. Guess I’ll just have to wait. He thought.

[Dud]

Elsewhere, Ceyr The black storm raged. Winds tore across the land and torrents of dust and sand roared through the sky. A single speck of light, far below, tried in vain to create a path through the gale. A lone camel-drawn carriage inched its way across the cracked earth. Blown glass lanterns on each corner were the only light visible without. The reins that stretched from a slit through the front of the carriage pulled taught as the two camels reared and nearly stumbled. A door was thrown open, and a single figure wrapped in heavy protective cloth leapt from the stalled carriage. It turned in several directions, seeking a sign and finding none. It reached inside the cloth and pulled a fragment of amber on a string and held it out in one hand, the wind nearly pulling it loose. Nothing else happened. The figure turned, frantically, the wind dying slightly as its roar settled into a resonant boom. The necklace slacked and hung almost loosely. "MIRNA!" A covered head shot out from the door of the carriage. "Mirna! Is it working?! Did it show you?! Which way do we go?!" Mirna pulled the heavy cloth from her face and let it drape around her neck. "Damn damn damn. It's no use, Borah," she sighed. "Gods' blood, it's no use. Tell mother not to worry, we'll be there soon." She ran the back of her free hand across her face and put on what she thought was a smile. "How's dad?" Her brother's face screwed up at this. "The same," he replied. "He's asleep, and breathing fine for now. Mom stopped crying, which is a good sign. Water the camels and come back inside. It could start again at any moment." Borah threw her a large canteen and bucket and pulled his head back in. They had been traveling through the wastelands nearly three days. Mirna sighed a long, heavy breath and stuffed the amulet into a pocket and walked around to the camels. Five days since their father fell ill. The village's mystic called it a terrible curse, but Mirna stood firm and insisted it was a sickness, one that could be cured in the city. The nearest hospice, in the city of paved roads and lanterns at night. Days of journeying away, but better than sitting home and waiting for a sickness to take him. The people of the hamlet on the edge of the desert told them to avoid the wastelands, as all life disappeared within. A small and gray and incredibly old priestess smiled with her one remaining tooth and told them going through was days faster than circling around. She even offered to sell them a pathfinding amulet. A very expensive one, a stick of charcoal encased in a beautiful triangle of amber, blessed by the local priests and instilled with the power of the gods. All the money Mirna had. Days faster. Three days. Mirna stroked the camel's head as it sucked nosily at the water. She struggled to hold back a sob. They would die out here. "No death here." A moment passed. Realization dawned and Mirna's breath caught in her throat as she spun around, clutching the bucket to her chest. Nothing. She looked down. A tiny figure in a tiny brown robe, barely as tall as her waist, looked up at her. Even in the gloom she could see its face was ashen gray, with a large nose and shimmering brown eyes that contained an eternity of sadness. Though she had only read of them, she recognized it as a goblin. It looked very young, possibly, but at the same time very, very old. "W-What?" "No death here," it spoke again in its odd tremoring voice. "No life. Only dust." Mirna caught herself and lowered the bucket as respectfully as she could. She had heard of bandits, but nothing had prepared her for this. She hardened her gaze and pulled herself taller. "Forgive me, uh, sir. Madam. Goblin. We're lost, you see. My father is gravely ill and we're looking for the city and to be honest w-we've been sidetracked, you could say, but we have no money, no money at all, and if you would kindly show us the way we'll gladly--" A sword was pointed at her. At least, Mirna thought it was a sword, burned to ash as it was, and tiny as it was, even in the small creature's grasp. The goblin turned and stretched its arm to the right side of the carriage. There was a deep, nearly humming boom, barely audible, and a flash of golden light in the distance. Mirna gasped slightly, her eyes frozen on the warm, welcoming light beaming through the dust and ash. "MIRNA!" She jumped again, and turned to see Borah sticking his head out the window. "I think it's starting again! Are you finished with those spitting bastards?" "I--the camels? Yes but, this goblin..." Mirna turned to where the goblin stood. It was gone. The ashen land stretched away, no footprints in the sand below, as the horizon darkened and the winds closed in once more. ... Tower of Broken Dreams, Ceyr Ashes swirled through the marble doors of the Tower and gathered on the floor. Dust rose to his feet in the flickering gloom, gathering his cloak about him and placing a hand on the sword at his side. Traveling as a cloud in the presence of others would expend energy, and he saw no reason to hide himself in the company of gods. His large brown eyes followed the staircase as it spiraled upward, shrinking and disappearing into the distance. One thousand one hundred eleven steps. Dust took them without haste, with the same measured pace of ages past. He walked.

[SillyGoy]

Tower of Broken Dreams, Ceyr ————————————————————————— Snarling mildly for but a flash at seeing Voana's figure in the distance, Thirianna stepped back to receive the newcomer, and her sapphire-like eyes met those of Hiraga, but frowned at the feigned cordiality. Vaul took action first to return the guardian's greeting, dipping his head in a deeply respectful bow, his long, platinum blonde hair pulled away from their usual place behind his shoulders and encouraged to fall over his obscenely baroque breastplate. "Hiraga," he rose, his chin tilted slightly upwards in that Elven manner when they were genuinely happy, if the smile that curved his thin lips and reached his bright eyes wasn't enough to convey it. "Your dryads continue to keep the Forests of Ulthanesh and Eldanesh so lush and beautiful. On behalf of the Elven Pantheon and the mortals we call our children, I thank you sincerely." In contrast to the smith god, the guardian arch-angel's reply was cold in its insulting shortness. "Good to see you too, elder sister," she said, as her eyes wandered all over the disgustingly fake body Hiraga had chosen to take. The firstborn was a shapeshifter, and proclaimed herself to be Guardian of all Ceyr. How pretentious. But none of these venomous thoughts showed through Thirianna's convincing-enough smile. "I hope you've been keeping well." But Varavana found himself ignored by Thirianna, even when he bowed and spoke at some length. He was right in the tension that filled the air, as the the second-born tried to spark conversation with her elder sister with an extremely generic "How have you been?" The only attention the upstart got was from Vaul, who looked at him for a second, decided he wasn't interested, and returned his gaze to Hiraga. If the smith god noticed Gaon, he made no effort to show it. Indeed, the ancient spirit that helped to shape and form the greatest and most terrible mortal race to ever conquer great swathes of continental Ceyr would be just as cold to the third upstart who was taking his sweet time in ascending the steps.

[Vilhelm]

A shadow whisked across the desert dunes, out of place in the otherwise sun-scorched landscape. Formless, it could easily have been mistaken for the silhouette of a cloud whisking across the sun- But there were no clouds. No, this shadow was Danives himself, flitting over the heated landscape with far more ease than others might have managed on the ground... After all, he currently had no body to overheat, or to beg his mind for water. And so, with no worries in his travel, he let his mind wander. The Tower of Broken Dreams. He hadn't been there since.... -Before- the golden one's death. Long before. But this wasn't a summons he could ignore receiving. Mentally, he smiled at the memory of when he gained his summons. He'd been in the middle of assisting one of his followers in their task. He remembered it quite well- The young human had used his shadows well, dancing unseen and unheard through the halls of a wealthy man's home. His body had flickered much as Danives' own tended to do, blending with the darkness until he made his way to the man's own room. A single blade of shadow was gifted to his hand. It had been a grand sign to Danives that the summons hammered into his mind the moment the assassin's shadowy dagger speared through the heart of its victim. Normally, he might have stayed to assist the follower in leaving... But his task was done. How he escaped was up to the assassin himself- And so Danives left, his boon lifting from the human as he flew across the land in his shadowy state. And now, here he was, rising over the crest of dune after dune, ever-nearing the fantastic shape of the Tower. Unlike his poor, poor siblings, he had no need to tire himself climbing so many stairs- He merely raced up the walls themselves once he arrived, pausing briefly to brush a shadowy finger of greeting over the climbing Dust's shoulders. He was friendly to upstarts, and knew Dust would recognize the greeting. But then, a bare moment later, he was on the move again- And soon materialized on the balcony, behind Thirianna and Vaul. Silent, he raised a quiet hand in greeting to the others that faced him, before finally speaking out so that those with their backs to him might also realize he was there. In the shadowy, death-like form he took now, he leaned oh-so-casually against the rail of the balcony. "Brothers, sisters, it's so -pleasant- to see you all. Still all glares, I see? Come come. Daddy's war ended -ages- ago. Literally. Can't we all hug and make up? And stop ignoring our younger siblings, won't you? They need attention as much as the rest of us." A brief smile was sent to Varavana and Gaon with the words.... Well, as much of a smile as the shadowy form could muster. It was more of a feeling. Like they could -tell- he was smiling without seeing it.

[Forsythe]

“Your thanks are unnecessary, but appreciated.” Hiraga replied with a warm smile in kind. The presence of her followers in the elven forests wasn’t particularly large - the elves did a splendid work taking care of their own part of the realm - but it was warming to know she was appreciated and welcome somewhere. That said, Hiraga wasn’t particularly interested in a conversation with her sister, but she would never be impolite. “I have been feeling tired lately.” the guardian replied, “Perhaps a sign that what you preach might indeed be coming. I suppose you will be telling us more soon enough.” she shared and left it at that. When some of the Upstarts started arriving, Hiraga spared them a look, having a unique opportunity and time to meet them in person. The first one she actually recognized and gave him an acknowledging head nod. The other upstart didn’t ring a bell in the guardian’s memory, but she acknowledged him none the less. It was the third presence she felt rising on the stairwell. To her, it felt as if a void was approaching. Hiraga looked aside from the door that would admit Dust any moment now. To her the little upstart was a constant reminder of her failures, and his presence always made her think of what she could have done better. She didn’t held it against the young spirit - it was hardly his fault. If anything, she felt a little sorry for him, and was grateful to him for watching over the barrens. Hiraga gazed out the window at Aun. She wondered just how many would arrive, and if the archangel would be waiting for everyone and keep them here away from their duties and followers. She wasn’t particularly keen on leaving prayers unanswered and the warnings of her reincarnated servants unheard.

[EsmetheGreat]

They began descending the dune at a daunting and tremulous pace, Voana pulling on the reins tightly and provoking a throaty groan from the mouth of the sand-horse, the beast tossing its head in obvious irritation. Itone slumped forward with a quiet oomf, the scarf wrapped around her head slipping down to cover her eyes as a result. Gritting her teeth, the Shield-Maiden wrenched the hem of the scarf up away from her eyes with a huff of indignation, leaning forward and delivering a kick between her Wifes shoulder blades. When Voana halted in her punishing stride and turned to look up at her Wife, Itone made to pull the reins from her, "I'll do it you fool, lest you tumble this poor creature as well as your Wife in your haste-" she stated, her voice clipped and firm, but her face softening as she looked down at Voana, "-go on." Voana gave a short, grateful squeeze to the small hand laid upon her own before slipping the reins from her grip and turning back downwards, racing off down the dune, kicking up sand behind her. Letting loose a short song of laughter as she approached Sohena, Voanas lips twisted into a wide easy grin as she looked upon her Sister for the first time in years. Sohena herself, as serene in face as ever, received her with a slow, small smile, turning her tall and slender form fully to face Voana as the warrior charged up to her. Standing before her, Voana looked her Sister up and down, and reached out and grasped each of Sohenas slim shoulders, regarding her with a wholly fond and faintly disbelieving look. "Sister..." Voana murmured, her voice soft and holding the same small measure of disbelief as her face, with that she pulled Sohena forward, and pressed her forehead against her Sisters. Voanas eyes slipped closed for several long seconds, comforted when Sohena didn't throw off the gesture and instead brought her hands up to clutch at Voanas elbows, squeezing shortly before letting go. Pulling back, Voana turned her head to look behind her when she heard the sand-horse grunt once more, and saw that her Wife had successfully brought the beast to rest at the bottom of the dune, rewarding it with several calming strokes to the side of its long neck whilst she watched them both patiently. Voana released her Sisters shoulders and smiled up at Itone, "Itone, you remember my Body-Sister, Sohena?" motioning to Sohena with a wave of her hand. Recognition flooded Itones face, her hand ceasing patting the sand-horses mane as she sat up in her seat, offering a thin smile down at Sohena, "Of course, though..." her brow furrowed somewhat as she spoke "...it has been a while." Sohena brought her hands to clasp together in-front of her, bowing her head in greeting at Itone before speaking, "It has indeed, I believe last we met you graced me with a wonderful feast at your home-" here she lifted her head, "-my apologies that I did not repay your kindness, I became quite indisposed afterwards..." her voice trailing off as she gazed up at Itone. The Shield-Maiden met Sohenas gaze and regarded her with a wary air for a few seconds, before bowing her head in return. "There are no apologies required save from myself," Itone replied shuffling in her seat atop the sand-horse, "I forget my courtesies, would you like to take my place and rest your feet as we travel?" Sohena shook her head, "My thanks, but I will be just fine, though we should continue walking if we wish to reach the Tower before the meeting begins." Sohena relayed, turning away but not before sending her Sister a pointed look. As Sohena began to move in the direction of the Tower, Voana turned to look at her Wife, her eyes firm and cautionary, Itone responding with a silent shrug of her shoulders before clicking her tongue and giving a soft kick to the side of the sand-horse, spurring it on to follow after Sohena. Voana turned and strode forward, catching up to Sohenas gliding steps quickly, and came to walk a steady pace beside her Sister, letting the silence reign for four short seconds before beginning her enquires. "You travelled alone?" "It is my preference, as it has always been. Did only your Wife accompany you?" Voana shook her head, "Across the desert yes, but from the North a retinue of my pupils insisted on following us. We left them behind in Nursia-" a considering frown appeared on her lips, "-it was surprising enough that the summons had called for Upstarts to attend, I didn't want to push my luck by bringing mortals to the Tower." Sohena gave a small hum of agreement and replied, "Indeed, wise you are sometimes Sister, though I thought you wouldn't risk bringing Itone to an audience of our kin...". Voanas frown deepened, her voice lowering to a mutter, "I was against it of course, but my Wife has come to dislike the entirety of my protection." she glanced back at Itone before leaning closer to Sohena, "She has not been well,and she believes that the knowledge of our kin could help." She leaned back at Sohenas slow nod, and gave her Sister a goading stare, "Besides, you're one to talk of wisdom with these events, I honestly didn't believe you would attend despite the summons requesting all of us. Last I recall the 'Angels' did not regard you with much love." she pointed out. "And, if I know what I know, they regard you much the same, Sister..." Sohena shot back smoothly before turning to Voana with a thin, knowing smile, "and yet here we are." They began to climb the dune that lay before them, Voana looking behind her to supervise her Wifes ascent on the sand-horse, "Aye, we are here-" she muttered to Sohena, "-and I wonder if we truly need to be...whether the reasons to be here are true..." her voice trailing off as she turned her face to her Sister again, an unspoken question in her voice. The two Sisters came to stand atop the dune, the Tower of Broken Dreams now again visible in the distance, Sohena quiet all the while as Voana looked at her, unmoving and expectant. The silence prevailing, Voana sighed and pressed the subject once more, "Sohena...Thiriannas claims should be impossible, I scarce believed them when I read her summons but..." she paused, hands clenching and her eyes imploring, "...if it's true, I rarely ask this of you Sister but-" Sohena, who had been silent and avoiding of her Sisters eyes, raised a hand to silence Voana, lifting a cool and firm gaze to Voanas face. "I appreciate that you rarely ask Voana, as I have appreciated such in the past...and I ask that you do the same now." Lowering her hand, she returned it to clasp the other in-front of her and turned to begin the descent down the dune, murmuring, "What will come to pass will pass, that is how it must be." Voana watched as her Sister travelled on, a frown deepening on her lips before it settled with a deep exhale of air. Hearing the plodding approach of the sand-horse behind her, Voana turned to receive her Wifes questioning stare. Before Itone could ask, Voana stated "It's fine...come we're nearly there." and reached up to take the reins from Itones hands, the Shield-Maiden relinquishing them with a slow nod but a hard stare that promised they would speak of this later. The three women moved onwards in silence towards the Tower, Sohena and her shadow leading the way, until, in no time at all, the group beheld the splendour and enormity of the structure up-close, and crossed the threshold of the two heavy doors into the foyer of the Tower. The steps of Voanas heavy boots and the hooves of the sand-horse echoed deftly on the decorative but worn tiles of the foyer, whilst Sohena, as always, seemed to glide silently and weightlessly. Sohena gazed back at her Sister and directed a pointed look at the winding staircase that disappeared off up into the heights, making towards it after what seemed a moment of hesitation. Voana gave the stairs a brief glance before moving to attend to her Wife, reaching up to help her off the sand-horse, Itone grasping onto her arms before finding her footing and moving away, her eyes curious and distracted by the inside of the structure. Voana looked back at the staircase, and saw Sohena still stood at the bottom of it, her eyes gazing upwards before glancing at her Sister with an expectant look. Voana gave a short sigh and relieved herself of the heavy robe that had hid her over the trek across the desert, revealing her armour, fine and aged and arousing the memories of a thousand battles. Throwing the robe to rest over the sand-horses saddle, Voana brought her hand back to rest on her scabbard, Iron-Spine a welcome and familiar weight against her hip. Looking over to her Wife, Voana saw that Itone had followed her steed, happily stripping herself of the various scarves as well as the woollen shift, standing small but solid in her cloth tunic, chain-mail vest and leather vambraces, her short-sword strapped to her hip. She offered her a small, reassuring smile and Voana felt a great measure of ill-thought melt from her, her muscles relaxing from stiffness into her easy confidence. She returned the smile and made to move towards the stairs, hearing Itone follow behind her with sure quick steps. Voana turned her gaze upwards, towards the heights of the Tower and the events that surely lurked at the top, the faint sound of conversation bouncing off the marble walls of the interior and drifting down to them. Voana gave another short sigh, hand still resting on Iron-Spines hilt, "Right then." she murmured decisively to herself, and began to ascend the steps.

[Wordweaver]

Agimar traveled to the tower in his human form. While the general idea, of course, was to pass unnoticed, he couldn't resist adding a few...improvements. After all, this would likely be the first real gathering of the gods since the fall of the Golden One. A demon had to keep up appearances, didn't he? A few scales here, a claw or two there, and of course those red, light-devouring eyes he was so fond of. It was worth having to wear a cloak. The heat was, of course, a nonissue. The desert was less than a candle to the flames of Hades. As the tower of broken dreams rose on the horizon, Agimar again turned his thoughts to the summons. One could only wonder what the angels had in mind. Especially when they invited the upstarts. They were spirits, yes, but little better than mortals. The matter at hand must be truly important, if the angels had summoned them. Regardless, Agimar was grateful for the meeting, in his own way. The spirits stirred, and they always tended to create opportunities in the stirring. He knew there would be power to be had for those who sought it, Golden Orb or no. Agimar broke away from the caravan he was traveling with, impatient at the thought of what might already be happening behind inside closed doors. Of course, now that he thought about it, it wouldn't matter if the humans recognized him, this close to the tower. With that thought, Agimar let a little more of his "godly" form come through, unfurling two monstrous wings. They would probably cut the remaining time in half, at the very least. He took off, ignoring the screams coming from the humans below.

[Art of Fun]

That was disappointing. Varavana had hoped the etiquette of human and elf to be responded in kind, but received a passing glance at best. Varavana closed his eyes and gave his head a slight shake, his serene smile not leaving his face for a moment. At least his respect for one of the Ancients was not completely misplaced. He looked to Hiraga and returned her nod - or at least he assumed it was Hiraga. Who else would take the shape of one of Hiraga's dryads besides Hiraga herself? The words of an unknown guest nearly caused Varavana to jump, their presence having gone completely unnoticed by his senses, a rare occurence indeed. The vast hearing range of an Ulthranesh native, and able to pick up the slightest changes in an areas scent with the Tartarian Slicehound's nose - and that was just the beginning of it. All of it bypassed by the one who had just 'appeared' behind him by the railing. Varavana turned his head to identify the culprit. Danives' appearance and his demeanour were...surprising, not quite two things which Varavana would associate with one another, but there was that saying about judging books by their covers. None the less, Varavana bowed to him, one which involved the lowering of his upper body as opposed to the mere bowing of his head. A respectful, yet subtle gesture to display his gratitude for acknowledging not only himself, but Gaon as well. Bringing himself to stand upright once more, the regal Upstart spoke. "Honoured Ancient" He greeted, his hands not leaving the deep jade sleeves of his robe, "I am pleased to make your acquaintance." He gave him a slow nod, much like the one he gave to Hiraga, and turned to face the others once more. "I am inclined to agree. The hot coal of a poor past may be thrown, but ultimately you will be long burned before you bring it to bear. Drop the past, if not for your own sakes, then for the sake of Ceyr." Varavana's smile faded somewhat, but was still present none the less, and a subtle hint of determination set in across his features. His words were directed mostly towards Vaul and Thririanna, but all were included. The reference to state of Ceyr after the war was clear and piercing, but not rude in its mention. It was those kinds of feelings that would hurt those around them, and being Ancients that would mean a lot of people. In a meeting like this, dropping those feelings was required in order for the best outcome - which is why they had come together.

[Pie Flavor]

Ullanor Wastelands, Ceyr "Caliburn you feeling alright, we're almost there so don't worry you wont have to deal with this much longer" Yakushi cheerfully said as her hand ran through its fur and rubbed against the magical gem that laid on Caliburn's head. The two were riding on a simple light blue cloth that was big enough to hold onto the two of them while a decent amount of room still available to lay if needed, if you had something to compare it to, it would be the size of a full bed. A steady yet small stream of energy was used to supply the carpet with the ability to fly, this was Caliburn's task for the trip; if it was need an small additional amount of energy could also be applied to direct the carpet however, it seemed at the moment the carpet was just where the two wanted it to go. With the carpet flying in its automatic mode, the two had little to do besides Yakushi messing around with an barrier to protect the two against the dessert wind and sand, she achieved the tasked not too long after they had entered the dessert and had been looking at the never ending sand. Yakushi couldn't understand why they were going so far out, but she went along with it as this was something she was interested to be involved in. Teleportation was an option for the two of them, but the energy to make such travels was so inefficient, that riding out would be simply better. In the distance they could see the Tower of Broken Dreams in the distance and they would get there in no hurry, however it was honestly going to be awkward if you take in the fact that everyone would be there. It hasn't happen like that for a while if, Yakushi could remember and it was going to be exciting to see what was going to happen, not to mention she would be seeing some of the people she been keeping an eye on. So it would be a good experience, at least for her as she gained much from coming to this event. So with her hand looming over the cloth, she began to slowly supply the cloth of additional energy causing it to zoom faster towards the tower in the distance. Tower of Broken Dreams The shadow of the flying rectangle ceased to exist after reaching the Tower, where Yakushi had finally got to the base of the tower in which brought some... distant memories of the long forgotten past. She too released the barrier that surrounded her and Caliburn, finally feeling the desert weather after being in the weather-proof barrier for so long, the two didn't feel too hot yet from the heat of the sand and in fact was delighted to experience some stimuli. However, unnecessary exercise was something that they would indeed try to avoid and with their carpet they flew up to the balcony to where the others were most likely waiting. As a straight incline up to the balcony would just had been difficult to hang onto, they went up in a spiral to the balcony. Upon reaching the balcony, she slowly appeared from beneath the railing and floated behind the backs of everyone who weren't looking, while the ones who were facing her obviously saw her laying down on the cloth with Caliburn at her side. It was a silent entrance as the two didn't make much noise and simply waited until they were noticed by the ancients who had their backs turned against her, but to those who noticed her she gave them a warm smile that could of meant anything considering it was thing she learned from humans, which was that they could easily relay many emotions with a simple action that had deeper meaning than what was on the surface. But it was something maybe the other ancients haven't done much of before consider how everyone is or simply it could of been her for her naivety in social situations but she didnt worry about that and during the mean time she took a precaution to prepare several spells on top of her mind, it was something that she always did even in a social event due to being overly cautious from her past experience. Besides that, Yakushi was there waiting for something to happen now that she was present now wondering what was going to happen now that most of everyone has gathered here.

[King Solterra]

Tower of Broken Dreams, Ceyr Neveras had been away, seeking out those who had knew of his name, those of Mortals. If he could gain any Mortal to his side, it would be those who had read of his scripture. Hopefully, he could gain more to his side. Whether it was so that he could defend himself, or defeat the others, was yet to be seen. He took a deep breath as he approached the tower from a length height, among the clouds, beginning to descend. What made him decide to answer the calls, he did not know. He was walking into a hornets nest, and each hornet was as strong as they could get. Even with the bumblebee's around, they all proved it to be suicidal... what Neveras was thinking of doing. His wings battered and waved slowly, rushing up the air around him and making a sound that didn't alert others to vibration or thuds, but of a strong presence... that should not exist. Neveras was in his true form, one Angelic wing on the left, and one Demonic wing on the right. As he gracefully landed at the stairs of the tower, he slowly formed his spiritual sword. Not to start a fight. He was raising his only shield in case someone inside decided to get hot tempered and freak out by his greeting. As he looked up to see his surroundings, he saw Sohena, standing there at the stairs. His heart started to race, but not from fear or intimidation, something more. And just as quick as his emotions started to wash over him, he twitched his head away, looking away in almost hatred. He gripped his sword tight, crossing his arms as he held it in his right hand and slowly walked inside. Without wasting a moment more, he wisked to the group of others, a decent length of way between them all. To his eyes he saw an angel that did not have much meaning to him. Beautiful in his eyes, elegant to his presence, but no. There was a purpose to being here, and he looked to the others. "Greetings, everyone." A frown on his face, his eyes calm. He wasn't sad, or angry, but he was stressed and tired. His body looked like it had beaten and battered from the cage he was swallowed into, the chains that pulled against him. His spirit, his soul, could be seen to everyone. He was showing a fake appearance of his body, even though everyone, including the upstarts could see through. Perhaps it showed the emotion of the pain he went through, given to him by his Creator? So that he could know the equal feeling that a Mortal would feel. Cut up and bruised his pulsing true inner being showed, soon he gained control, and no one would see that side of him. His wings pulled inward, closing against his back and his left hand reached out. "It is good to see you, Danives. I didn't think I'd be able to see a friendly face again." But then he realized something, and looked around. This wasn't a mass grouping... there were fewer faces here, numbers that didn't seem realistic. He looked at all the faces, noticing a few, but mostly Voana, in which his face immediately changed. Gripping his sword and showing his teeth as his eyes went into anger before closing, calming, and opening again to look at the angel before them. The war in heaven was this devastating? "So what, Angel?" Neveras spoke broadly, "You expect us to believe the great Creator will return? It was because of the Creator I feel this pain, that I am forced to keep my guard down around this so-called God that stands before me. My purpose will no doubt be altered upon the supposed return of the Creator, and I can not even carry it out because these Angels think I were to become selfish and greedy. They didn't even know I must have the Mortals true faith before I can even strike my sword against them!" Neveras took a step back, as he was getting ahead of himself and exhausting too much energy. Without followers, his current power is equal to that of exhaustion. "Even, if we were to believe," he took a breath, "That the Creator would return, why would we want him back?" Such a blasphemous remark, but from a blasphemous creation. Neveras was created to take the side of the Mortals, not the spirits or the Creator them self. So while it may be breathtaking to Upstarts, the Ancients may just get pissed off or frustrated from it.

[SillyGoy]

Tower of Broken Dreams, Ceyr ————————————————————————— When Varavana offered his verbal piece, Vaul's relaxed expression as he regarded Danives contorted into one of annoyance as his eyes, normally green, adopted a peculiar red tinge and flicked towards the chimera. "Your attempts at philosophy are amateurish and irritating, infant. What do you even know of Ceyr? I don't recall you being there before the War. Now, speak not unless spoken to; your existence is-" Thirianna's angelic figure then suddenly came in between the two. She shot the smith god behind her a disapproving look, but then smiled at little Varavana before her, bending her knees, a nimble hand on her thigh, as she tried to be at eye level with the shorter creature. "Please do not mind Vaul here, little one; he's always been cranky since the day of his inception. You must be Varavana, correct? What an adorable little thing!" And then she started ruffling his hair. The Elven smith god scowled and frowned; then indifference flashed on his face, and then he looked confused, as his elder sister approached Gaon and smothered the wretched upstart, too, with scandalously abundant maternal affection. But to protest at this would invite rebuke from her, and he most certainly did not want that humiliation to add to his sister's recent, silent and effective admonition. Thirianna was amongst the most powerful of the spirits back then, and even weakened as she was now, there was little doubt in her ability to best him in the martial arts. Thankfully, Neveras' arrival brought his mind away from such troubling thoughts. He looked at the battered spirit, whose form was that of an athletic youth, two wings -- one a majestic white and the other an ominous black -- sprouting from his back. He cocked an eyebrow in recognition, before a millisecond later he noticed that the supposed keeper of the balance of power -- one who failed in his task, by the way -- gripped in his hand his naked spirit sword. Vaul frowned, and raised his palm and interjected as Neveras spoke, his voice resolute with power and authority: "Be silent. We come here with open hands, but you ready a clenched fist. Sheathe your sword." Thirianna, who had finished returning Gaon's hat after patting him on the head like a dog, mirrored in silence what Vaul said with an unamused look. Neveras' threatening stance spared for Yakushi no attention from the two.

[RoflsMazoy]

Gaon looked on with more than a little trepidation after the archangel ancient left hugged him. He blushed a little as smothered him, he wasn't quite sure what to do. Her embrace hed felt quite nice of course, but he was more than a bit confused. There was so much happening already, there was shadowy ancient he'd seen a long time ago, who turned out to be quite light with his humour... It appeared that the strange child didn't know how to take a hint either... And now he was sure all of the spirits present were aware of his presence, if they weren't before, and he really felt like he should've been doing something. Maybe I need to calm down a little... he thought. Even as he was trapped by the ancient's embrace, took a deep breath and slowly closed his eyes. When his eyelids closed, calm instantly spread throughout his whole body, as if turbulent waters suddenly stilled. As he opened his eyes, he found his sight overlaid with a tone of blue. Mentally he took up his fishing rod, and in his sight he cast a glowing blue line of energy that no one else could see. The line plunged through a the surface of a layer of water which only he could see, and it continued a ways down the tower. Not long after that, he felt the presence of the others at the meeting. They ripples they cast on the waters surface were like waves, they buffeted him but they couldn't actually affect him in reality. It was only what he felt from them that was causing the sensation. If he had to call it anything, it would have been 'fisherman's instinct'. The ability let him see the ripples that other creatures created by casting out his fishing line. The larger their 'presence' was, the larger their ripples were. He looked ahead of him towards what looked to be turning into a veritable geyser, so large were the presence of the ancients that there combined waves were casting the waters skywards. I suppose a congregation of spirits would always look like this. He thought. Suddenly, he felt something break the 'water level' behind him. Looking up briefly, he saw a rectangle of blue float gently over his head. As it touched the ground, he saw its owner. Ah. He'd only ever heard of her, he didn't really know her name but her rabbit was quite distinctive. He'd heard many whispers about her, mainly that she was one who saught all knowledge; she was known as the Harvester of Knowledge, Weaver of Intellect. Perhaps she knows how I was created. He thought. She turned towards all of the people she knew had seen her arrive, and gave each one a warm smile. But Gaon could feel the way the smile formed, and he knew it wasn't exactly genuine. It wasn't exactly forced, but it was more like it was something that someone has learned, but not quite mastered. Well, she seems nice I supposed. He thought as the Archangel returned his hat and patted him on the head. He felt another presence break the surface, one from the stairwell this time. The newcomer's presence was also loudly announced, but his rippled were rather strange. They were sporadic, random. The waves flowed over each other at varying speeds as if they wanted badly to escape from him. As Gaon looked at him, he could see that there was good reason to. He could feel something different from him thn usual, something outside of his powers. His instincts told him he was dangerous, simply dangerous. But as Gaon looked, he found reason to believe his instincts and reason to disregard them as well, even as the Archangel rebuked him. Either way, it didn't matter much. The meeting promised to be... curious.

[EsmetheGreat]

It took some time, Voana slowing her usual quick pace, ever concious of Itones recent exhaustion and illness, but soon enough the two Ancients and the Upstart approached then top of the stairs. As they neared the top, the faint and aloof chatter that had echoed down to them during the climb, suddenly erupted into a sharper tirade, seemingly just from one person. As Voana fought to place the familiar voice to a name and face in her head, she noticed that Sohena, two steps ahead of them, froze, one foot poised upon the next step up but her form stiff and suddenly unwilling to move. Voana strode up the steps towards her, laying a large hand carefully on her Sisters elbow, "Sister?" she questioned, her face taking on an expression of concern. Sohena did not lift her gaze to meet her Sisters, instead keeping her eyes trained on the step in-front of her, her face still a beautiful picture of serenity and coolness, a contrast to the rigid set of her body that Voana could now feel distinctly, having a firmer grip on Sohenas elbow. "It's nothing..." Sohena whispered to Voana, eyes still pointed at the stairs, after a few seconds she continued, in a louder and more authoritative tone, "You both, go on, I'll follow behind..." Voana did not relinquish her grasp on Sohenas elbow immediately, her face still trained on her Sisters face and only growing more concerned and frustrated by the second. Itone, sensing the mood keenly, climbed up the few steps between them and clutched a small, calloused hand on Voanas arm, digging in her fingers and pulling her hand away from Sohena, giving her Wife a pointed look when Voana turned to look at her. Voana frowned slightly but surrendered, giving Sohena one last short look before she continued up the stairs, her Wife a comforting presence beside her. As they reached the top of the stairs, they found themselves suddenly freed from the dimness of the stairwell and instead drowning in the rays of Aun, as the stairs opened up into a large space, built somewhat like an amphitheatre and containing a small group of beings, none of whom Voana had deigned to meet willingly even before the Great War. "Be silent. We come here with open hands, but you ready a clenched fist. Sheathe your sword." was the order she heard echo around the room, boomed with an authoritative voice that she had heard several times on the battlefield, and more times on the training grounds growing up. Voana felt her eyes roll before they came to rest on the finely-armoured form of Vaul, who stood in the centre of the group, his admonishing stance aimed at the winged being that stood a small ways off from the others. Voana took in the battered and indignant form of Neveras with no small measure of surprise, though the expression quickly melted into one of matched ire when the Ancient noticed her arrival first and faced her with a look of distaste. Bringing her hand down to rest on the hilt of Iron-Spine, Voana released a hard breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding and turned her head to look down at Itone, regarding her Wife with a cautionary glance, Itone responding with a silent nod and a solidifying of her stance. Suddenly but quietly, Voana felt the presence of her Sister at her back, having quietly found resolve and crept up the rest of the stairs behind them. Her appearance burgeoned more confidence in Voana, and the ancient chose to pull herself into her advantageous height, striding properly into the room, her shoulders back and her steps heavy and loud. "Never thought I'd hear you tell someone to put their sword away Vaul-" Voana called as she approached the group, Itone marching at her side and Sohena gliding along behind them, "- war has made you softer."

[SillyGoy]

Tower of Broken Dreams, Ceyr ————————————————————————— "Softer, you say?" Vaul said, dry amusement coloring his voice as he measured Voana's wife with his piercing gaze. "You think me softer now?" His eyebrows quirked up mockingly; he found Neveras non-threatening enough to be flippant, and he was about to grin, laugh even, before quelling its precursor of a ghostly smile. "Well, perhaps you are right. In these relatively peaceful times, those who can test my mettle are few and far between. I must confess my sword-arm not seeing much use since the conclusion of the war. Or rather, since Thirianna over here rendered me incapable. Good day to you, Sohena," he abruptly ignored the warrior god, and gestured limply with his hand. "It is well that you are out of Hades; its grimness and fires do not suit one such as you. Could the small one be your sister's... wife?" Thirianna's relative solemness contrasted with the playful Vaul, and she greeted the newly-arrived trio with only a nod, with respect to the smith god's making conversation. She turned appropriately the moment her right cheek was bathed in red light, and beheld a tear in reality wherefrom swirling crimson and heat profusely bled. The angel could not help but frown as her direct opposite stepped out of the portal. It was a large bipedal crow whose feathers shone in the colors of the rainbow. A clawed, feathered hand held at its right a long golden staff headed by the horned skull of a goat, whose empty eye sockets eerily glowed blue with eldritch power. Its belly had white down mottled with black, and was festooned by many golden chains and baubles like brooches whose arrangement was chaotic and devoid of symmetry. Two necks with wrinkled skin terminated in avian heads. As Kyras, Arch-Demon and Guardian of Hades, spoke, his twin beaks revealed their serrated teeth, and when one beak spoke half of a sentence, it would silence, and the other would finish it. "Thirianna," Kyras put in, cutting her off before she could speak. "Firstly, know that I find little joy in being taken away from my projects, and that I am here only because of my position as Guardian. Second, know that the others do not believe, and think you are lying or deluded to the point of madness, which, if I were less clever, would believe; but at the moment, I only find it a probable thing. Thirdly, it is folly to wait for any more of our siblings at this gathering. Only Dorn, self-proclaimed God of Humanity, journeys toward this place; the others lack faith in you, and will not come." He tapped his relic staff on the ground, partly to punctuate that last statement, partly to prevent rebuttal from the angel. "You will tell me all that you know; I shall extract the truth from your hopeful conjectures," he said, his four beady eyes regarding Thirianna and her only, before apparently realizing that they were not alone, and took a look around with only one head, lowing the other a few inches so as to get a better view. "This reunion is pathetic. Sohena, Vaul, Hiraga -- you don't actually believe that the Creator stirs from death, do you? This is a waste of our time. Look," he gestured at Varavana and Gaon, extending a claw towards them. "The infants are tired from traveling. They come here for nothing."

[King Solterra]

Tower of Broken Dreams, Ceyr Neveras scoffed, "Excuse me? I prepare myself to be defended, and here I am being ordered?" He relaxed his arms, putting them to his sides and looked directly at Vaul. "I came here out of respect. Even though surely it is a death sentence for me as many in here know how I am killed and know how to banish me. If this was a day in the War of Heaven I would threaten you to respect me for I had done nothing but good. But now, I truly could not care, but I will not take orders from someone who does not deserve it." Neveras fixed his footing to a more calm and casual stance, but he still had a determined behavior. "However, disrespect to your own family is wrong. Many of us that stand here today are just as old as you, and potentially more powerful. This does not mean we are better, but it does mean we are not lesser. I will not stand for an insult. Apologize for demeaning accusation of the others, or we shall become enemies." Even though he spoke the truth, he was actually standing up for someone that Vaul singled out. Neveras, however, did dissipate his sword, and stood strong, straightening up. "I don't think it matters if any of us came in belief the Creator is returning. Those of us who did attend are not childish and have open ears. Not only that, but we are respectful." Neveras looked down as he thought for a quick moment. "I failed to realize Voana had respect, and I prepared to draw my blade against her once again." He looked up, and faced Voana. "I will forgive you, if you forgive me for raising my sword to you in such a holy place. I do not wish you harm, I never did. Especially now, since you have someone to share your existence with." Neveras' strong output was ceased, and he could breathe clearly. His fake appearance fell and he no longer put up a guard of any kind. Neveras' sorrowful emotions began to show. He didn't do it to pull a guilt trip, but it was a show of his pain... of the distrust he was given, the betrayal of his family. Neveras was now on the edge of falling to one side or the other and his mind didn't know how to react. Being one with Mortals was overwhelming, as while he had his own personality and being, he had two conflicting beings that were just as powerful, but from the Mortals emotions. He wanted love, but he also wanted revenge.