Berdagon

Godmode

akje said
With all the servitars enthralled by the conversation between gods, Misha found his way sneaking trough the edge of the long hall.Not much later he stood at the gates of the citadel of death. Staring out at the bleak landscape between him and the world of the living."I don't know who you are who tests me but I will show you that I will not stay here.I will stand before the lord of nightmares, because I am not afraid.I will steal from the citadel of death, because I am not afraid.I will walk to freedom trough the valley of death, because life is worth it!"With those words he stormed down the steps of the citadel and ran as fast as he could.

In Dim Halls, the trinity sat and watched. From a Steel, Copper and Stone throne, three men looked at a man running down an enormous flight of stairs.
“What say thee, brothers, about the unfearing mortal?” said the torchbearer.
“He has shown bravery, but that is no remarkable feat with our blessing…” said the builder.
“And he stole from a Divine! Even if this wasn’t one of the most vile creatures of creation, it is a crime and he should be punished for it!” demanded the soldier.
There was a silence. The three man pondered, looking at the man that ran from the cathedral of death.

The torch re-lit. A twinkle was seen in the eyes of the torchbearer. “He was not tempted by its offer.”

The others looked questionly at their brother.
“He was offered immortality, an army, to be free of all chains but his. But, his reason told him that it was against his nature, his nurture.”
The torchbearer bended towards his listeners. “He is incorruptible.”
“This is true! Because of his fearlessness he could think about his true nature, and not betray it!” shouted the builder. “This is a quality of a great man!”
The soldier’s face changed. His expression became hopeful.

“… it’s a quality of a saint…”

The silence returned. These words wear heavy and important. There had be no saint for so long, could it be that maybe...

.. maybe it was time for a new empire to rise?

The torch, hammer and sword were raised above the running man. In unicine the three brothers spoke:

We think, so that others are enlightened
We speak, so that others are inspired
We act, so that others are protected
Deemed worthy by the stone throne, the copper throne and the steel throne
We declare you are Saint Misha, the Vigilant


As Misha ran down the stairs, the world around him darkened. He saw nothing but the stairs and eternal darkness.
In the distance, he saw a dim fire. As he aproach it, the stairway ended in a flat floor. Before him stood three massive thrones, filled with an evenly massive figure. One held a torch, the other a hammer and the last a sword. The torchbearer spoke.
“Do not be afraid, Saint Misha. We are here to protect you, in exchange for a single awnser…”

“Would you want to carry a torch, sword or hammer?”

Godmode (Private Party)

The fire crackled as the bellow blew into it. It warmed the sweaty skin of Lod, who wept his brow as he threw another tree on the pyre. It had to be high and hot before people started to sacrifice.

Lod looked around the temple courtyard, proud of his work. The smell of the burning green pines behind him filled the whole cathedral. Three fires burned brightly. One was small, in a pit with a roster above it. Another was slightly bigger, with an altar in front of it. The last one, the one he just finished, was enormous. It stood right under the central tower, so that big sacrificed could be thrown into them from the balcony.

It was the one where most human sacrifices would be brought.

This information fazed Lod little. It had been done before, so it would be done again. Most of the sacrifices would be food, or tokens dear to the one giving it. But sometimes people would throw themselves, or others, into the fire. That is why Lod burned fresh pines, so that the smell of burning flesh wouldn’t make the other visitors sick.

Lod was done, soon he would be paid for his effort, like any other year. He walked to a big barrel and filled a tankard with Mead. He sat down and fondly drank the golden honey brew. Soon the people would arrive, so Lod sat quietly, enjoying the crackling sound of the pyres.

Godmode (Private Party)

Name: Cre’oan Mal
Titles: The Diver, The Voice Without Breath
True name: The name of Cre’oan Mal is a deep moan. It is a sound that man is not able to make, but Cre'oan Mal's known name is a very old, and mortal interpretation of the sound.
Inspiration:

image

the endless depths of the ocean, the secrets beneath the waves, the darkness watching.
Appearance: Cre’oan Mal appears as a speaking body of water. When de voice of Cre’oan Mal emerges from any liquid, it becomes a very dark blue or black, like it is an endlessly deep pool. His voice always sounds from far away.
Symbols: an arched line, wider at the top than at the bottom. Under it is a dot.

Portfolio: The Depths, The Eldritch
Alignment: NE
Servitars: great, unimaginable horrors from the depths of the ocean.
Weapon: stone dagger
Agenda: [Only gods know of Cre’oan Mal agenda. Mortals know him only as the terrible sea god, that gifts those who work from him with maddening and frightening knowledge]

Divine Agenda

Cre’oan Mal sits at the deepest point of the sea, protecting and studying an ancient building. The origin and purpose of this place is unknown for all but its discoverer, for when Cre’oan Mal found it, he created terrifying guardians to keep the gods out. These beasts are strong enough to drown and kill a deity, three gods have died at their maws before. It was made very clear that Cre'oan Mal was to be left alone. As long as he was left undisturbed, he would harm no god.
Cre’oan Mal is obsessed by the structure and wants nothing but to study it. He wouldn’t let any but the most brilliant of creatures gaze upon it. He did so before, using mortals to uncover the mysteries of the underwater temple, but they always disappear from the face of the world, never seen or heard from again.

Godmode

Well, i have some catching up to do.
There is a post for Tavon and Haedorman, and one for Arcturius. Today i'm also going to post as the Doctrine, I might even choose a champion.

Godmode

Flin was exhausted. He spend the passing few hours, or maybe they were just minutes, fighting ghouls and undead. The woman had disappeared quickly before they arrived, so maybe she had something to do with it. However, Flin stoped thinking of her when he saw his family was in danger.
The steel shield proved to be a remarkable object. In battle with the undead, it litteraly showed him what to do, how to fight. It did so at high speed, so none of the momentum was lost in battle.

Just a couple of the vile creatures lay dead in front of the young boy. Flin defended more than he could attack, taking blow after blow on his shield to protect his wounded father and innocent bystanders. Sometimes he managed to land a lucky hit on the attackers, but those were few.
Now, the boy was broken and tired. He took no wounds, but fighting took all of Flin’s energy. This was his first battle and it had taken every bit of him to survive it.

Overcome by stress and exhaustion, the child started to cry.

His teary eyes went upward, searching for guidance once again.

Thank you great soldier spirrit, thank you for helping me. Without shield and without mind, I would not have survived or have protected dad. I am so tired, but thank you, thank you, thank you. I just wish I wasn’t so tired. I wish I was never tired ever again.

Before sinking into a deep, well deserved sleap, a single thought went through the boys head.

What would you want me to do now?

Godmode

Vortex said
"Bah! Coward! Whenever he sees that his lose is inevitable he runs like a coward! What dishonourable creature runs from a fight refusing to finish entertaining his guests? Its those plants I tell you, spends far too much time with them he does, cant be healthy" Haedorman sighed and snapoed his fingers making all his creations wither and collapse. Helooked back to Joren "Well what is it then Skald? A life where you can have anything you wish? Or would you like to spend a eternity being a nightwatchman for some gods garden?"

Jormen stood there, contemplating his reply. He seemed deep in thought.
Then, suddenly, he burst out in laughter. The crowd that gathered started to whisper, shocked by the old man’s reaction. Tears of joy welled up in Jormen’s eyes as he almost lost his breath. He spread his arms as he shouted:

“NEITHER!”

“I have what I asked for: inspiration for a new epic story. A tale where two gods fight for the poem of an old mortal! Where two immortals try to trump each other, only to lose sight of the original prize!”
Jormen ripped the piece of paper in half and threw them in the fire. “Here, you can both have a verse, for I truly can not decide. But I am sure you two can figure something out”
The old man, still laughing, put the original rose in his hair. He then grabbed his kantele and started to play. Jormen sang as he walked away from the pyre, triumphantly and with head held high.

At the great pyre two gods desire
The words of just one bard
Flowers and trees, all to appease
The wish of an elderly bard

Silver and gold, contest uncontrolled
For the cost was no regard
But when all was done, all they had won
Were the words of just a bard

Godmode

Vortex said
This rp has pretty declined into "Who's the best gardener? 2014"

It's the idols of the divine.
My old Skald is just trying to take it as far as possible.

Godmode

Vortex said
Oh kudos old man kudos indeed, Haedorman though bitterly "You are quiet a arrogant mortal arent you? Demanding to be entertained by the gods, me no less!, and still you are not satisfied! You have the spine request more of me? A god? The greatest god of them all?" Haedorman smiled "Then I must oblige for a host must always entertain his guests no?" He raised his hand and a small sliver tree, twisted with age and covered in a glowing fire arose from the fire pit, on the tree were many flowers and while they were not as good as the original, which Haedorman suspected Tavron created, they were decent enough for Haedorman to be pleased with his own artistic genius. "Are you not yet entertained?" He said to the crowd

Jormen jumped when the silver tree bursts from the fire. When he saw the fire colored flowers he became uncertain. Was it than that Haedorman created it, and not some other deity?

No, it could not be. If he had to guess it would be Tavron, the gardener, who granted him the rose.
Jormen chose to continue the challenge.

“A beautifull work of art, Haedorman. You are indeed a generous host.”
Jormen held the original rose firmly in his hand.
“Is there anyone who thinks he can do better than our host? Let’s make it a challenge or a bet of beauty and amazement!”

LordMarwain said
A figure stepped forward from the circle. It was a farmer. Something glimmered in his hair. Golden.“You had such a long time watching my work and that is all you could show the people Haedorman? I am disappointed.” Tavon spoke with a stern voice. He then turned to Jormen. With a smile he said, “I will show you who it was that made this rose.”Tavon started humming a tune and then started singing in an ancient language. His words carried far and wide. In the city a flower started to grow. It did not stop growing until it was the size of a large tree, pointing towards the sky. Then another one. And another one. All over the city this event started to occur. And so, all over the city, roughly twenty meters apart from each other, those flowers stood tall as trees. The petals of those flowers were colored in the many colors of the flames. Jormen saw figures atop of the flowers. Each of those huge flowers was carrying a druid wielding a scythe.“Like the old priest told you, a danger like you have never seen before is coming. Now I got eyes in the sky. I will also need eyes on the ground.I’ll trade your secret for a secret of mine. Come with me and I will change your life span to the life span of a mighty tree. Become my eyes on the ground and you will surely have stories to tell.“

Jormens eyes grew wide when the enormous flowers sprung up around him. Not only was it a display of godly might, but also a sing of great beauty. A tear welled up in the old man’s eyes.

It was quickly wiped away. There is no time to be sentimental. This is a great opportunity. Tavon’s offer was very tempting, but more could be won here.

“Tavon! I thank you for your gifts and miracles! I also thank you for picking up Haedorman’s chalange. A game of miracles would be dull with only one player.”
Jormen turned to Haedorman. “However, if I am not mistaken, Haedorman may now reply to your miracle, Tavon. So, deceiver, show us how you could do better than the gardener!”
“I doubt he can” he whispered to Tavon, smiling broadly as he did.

Godmode

TheSecret said
"Great, you still can stand up" C.C said getting more and more excited, killing the boy was a waste, she wanted him to comeback for revenge.C.C sheathed her sword and ran towards the boy whe she suddenly changed her directrion and jumped to a wall, using it to impulse herself over the boy and land behind him, she kicked the hand he was hoñding the shield with

As the woman leap from the wall, he saw a pattern emerge. Calculations toiled in Flins head. How fast she was going, where she started the jump, how far and strong her leg would kick. His mind was almost to quick to read.

This was not his own mind.

From the corner of his eye, he saw strange reflections in his shield. Lines and patterns flashed inside the shield, battle tactics were drawn out and moves were demonstrated. The shield sped up his mind, it made him think faster and faster. In a fraction of a second, millions of calculations were made.
Flin turned, and lowered his shield by 3 inch.

Instead of the whole boot, only the heel hit the shield. With a loud crack it broke, leaving the woman unbalanced. With his spear he hit the leg she was standing on. When her other foot landed, trying to catch her balance, she stumbled because of the missing heel.

Flin pushed her, and she fell.

Snakingly, Flin pointed the spear towards the woman, and went in for a stab.

Godmode

TheSecret said
C.C was a little confused by the thunder and all but did not pay uch attention to it, she found someone to fight and that was all it mattered.The spear barely made a scrach on her knee, with a grim she rushed forward, jumped and with both legs kicked the shield at the same time as she tried to slice the boy's head, however the kick hit first and sent the boy 16 steps back, the blade didn't reach the boy's face

The force of the kick was immense. Flin tried to recover from the blow as fast as he could, but when standing up his knees began to shake. If that was the first attack, what else would she have in store?

No time to think about that, focus! What can be done now? She is acrobatic and quick, so balance is important. A small change to weight or mobility should hamper her movement and her ability to
strike with full strength.
Then Flin noticed that the woman was wearing high heels.

Break those and force her to walk on her toes, maby harm or break her ankle. The thoughts and strategies raced through Flins head, so clearly he could almost feel the motion.

Flin braces his spear, held up his shield and waited for the woman to attack.

And still, the shield sounded.