DrRtron

The Grim Crusade - A Warhammer 30000 RP

Kaldun’s Stateroom, After the Trial on the Edict of Tolerance

Kaldun slammed the door to his stateroom behind him, only narrowly missing Chandrian as the Astarte hurried into the room behind him. The Primarch was in a fury that was notable, even for him. They would have to do their best to keep it behind closed doors, or as much as they were able too. Chandrian opened the door and spoke to the two Spears that had followed them. “Guard the door, stop anyone you can, alert us to those you can’t.” They nodded their understanding, and Chandrian closed the door and turned to face his Primarch.

Without a word, Kaldun put his fist through the desk that had been left for him and smashed it violently on the ground until it broke in two. If Chandrian had been human, the sudden cacophony of violence would have been startling. As it was, he simply counted how many blows it took for the desk to break in half (Six smashes. It seemed they had built the desk for sturdiness. A pity.) Kaldun threw the one half that remained on his fist towards the wall and kicked the other soon after. The two halves shattered against the wall with a deafening crash.

“I see you’re taking today’s events well.” Chandrian noted, stepping back and to the side slightly. It would be best to get the fury out of the way now, before trying to address anything that had happened during the Trial. Not that there was much to talk about aside from the accusations Eiohsa had made.

“MONSTERS. BASTARDS!” Kaldun shouted, lightning bolts sparking off of him in fury. They struck against the walls, tearing out chunks and leaving burn marks all along the office. “We knew! We knew what they were all along and we let them get away with this!” He grabbed a chair but it disintegrated in his hands as lightning raced up it from his grip. With an unintelligible growl, he shot out another lightning bolt at the wall, setting the tapestry there alight.

“Well, we didn’t let them get away with anything.” Chandrian pointed out, watching another bolt of lightning whisk by. The Lurkers were always a sore spot with Kaldun, and today’s events only threw fuel on the fire. A lot of fuel on the fire. “As soon as you discovered what the Lurkers were, you refused to work with them and actively hindered their attempts at gathering humans for ‘research’ when you were in the same sector.”

“I should have killed Sarghaul as soon as I met him! Then purged his foul spawn from the galaxy! It would have improved the Imperium! It would have saved Eiohsa’s daughters!” The words came out with such fury that for a moment Chandrian was afraid Kaldun would unintentionally ignite the air in front of him. When that, fortunately, did not happen Chandrian simply shook his head. It was a pretty dream, but nothing more than that.

“No, you would have gotten yourself and all of your sons killed by the Imperium as they took down the rogue Primarch that killed his brother.” Chandrian realized his mistake almost as soon as the last word left his mouth, but it was too late by then. Kaldun let out another furious shout, more akin to a roar. In a flash, faster than Chandrian could comprehend, the Thunder of Labrys was drawn and flung at the wall next to him. With a thunderous crack it embedded itself almost a foot into the wall, lightning crackling off of it.

“That thing is not my brother! It is a monster that my father should have killed in the cradle!” Kaldun’s voice seemed to shake the room, and another bolt of lightning tore off of him and destroyed a chunk of the wall. He picked up a piece that landed next to him and threw it back at the wall, sending smoking shards scattering everywhere. Chandrian nodded, stepping another foot or two away from the embedded spear. Brother had been a poor choice of words, but his point remained the same regardless of Kaldun’s feelings.

“Be that as it may, attacking Sarghaul then,” he hurried as he saw an idea enter Kaldun’s furious mind, nipping a problem in the bud. He was too angry to trust with sudden, impulsive ideas. “or now will only turn the vast majority of the Imperium against us. Even if the Daughters of Iron take our side, that is not a battle we will be able to win without destroying ourselves or crippling the Imperium at large, at a time when we need to keep it together with the Emperor stepping back. As much as we trust Eihosa, we have no solid evidence that the others are willing to go off of. Patience is required, and then we can mete out the justice that is so long overdue.”

“And,” he added helpfully, “we stopped them from turning over the Edict of Tolerance. Which not only would have crippled the Imperium and cost a massive amount of resources to enact, it would have crippled the Golden Legion in particular. So it wasn’t all bad news today.”

Kaldun stood for a few moments, seeming to not have even heard Chandrian, breathing heavily. Then he let out another bellow of frustration, destroying another part of the room with lightning. Chunks scattered against his armor, smoking from the heat. A few more moments of silence followed before Kaldun had mastered himself enough to speak. When he did, something else had entered his mind. Chandrian could tell. “Fine. We will wait. For now. But we won’t be idle. What was that planet that had the altered Ogryn?”

“Trandashar. They had altered the Ogryn so much through cyborgs and chemicals that they were able to put up a fight against the Spears.” Chandrian looked over at the destroyed room before turning his attention back to Kaldun, confused by the question. His Primarch had never cared to think back on former enemies before. They were all the same to Kaldun. “Why?”

“I want you to have the Golden Legion start carrying a significant number of them, in reserve. In addition, I want the Spears to start studying combat footage of all of our fellow Legions. If anyone asks, we are increasing the combat capability of our Auxilia and hoping to increase the Spears' knowledge by studying other Legions.” Kaldun began to pace back and forth, crushing debris beneath his feet. Chandrian’s eyebrows rose with concern, and a dawning realization that they were heading into dangerous territory. as the Golden Conqueror continued to speak. “Also increase the recruitment of the Golden Legion. I want their numbers to increase as fast as possible without sacrificing too much training.” The Primarch continued before Chandrian could interject, waving a hand to stave off any warnings or attempts to divert his mind from this train of thought.

“Even if we assume that the Lurkers allow the Custodians to search through their den of monstrosities without any trouble, we can’t assume that they’ll just accept the Emperor’s punishment without a fight. I want the Spears to be alert for when the Lurkers try to escape justice, and I do not want them to be unprepared.”

Kaldun paused, looking over at Chandrian. “Perhaps I am wrong. Perhaps Sarghaul is correct, and he has lost control of his spawn and he will allow them to be exterminated as they should be. Perhaps this will all be for nothing more than increasing the combat effectiveness of the Spears. But if I’m not, I don’t want it to be a drawn out battle.”Kaldun clapped his hands on Chandrian’s shoulders. “If they ever tell the history of a Civil War in my Father’s Imperium, it will not be a history of months and years, bloody battles and bitter victories. It will be a history of days and weeks, swift justice and merciless executions. All because the Golden Spears were ready.” He gave Chandrian a small shake on the shoulders.

“And we will be ready.”

Divinus: The Deity Roleplay Mk. VI

Yesaris Week

---

Vandak cursed as he watched the flock of sheep out in the cold, tightening his grip around . Just another gift from his cursed luck. He could be with the tribe, eating the mushrooms that Glor had brought in. But no, he had foraged berries that were spoiled and accidentally poisoned the chief. In punishment for yet again costing the tribe some valuable food, he was sent to protect the flock from predators while they ate. This was just like the time he had tripped while carrying his end of the deer, sending it careening into the river and away from them and their hungry bellies. He had spent hours trying to make up for that lost meal, and had lost out on his own fair share of meals for it. Or the time when he had been hit by the spear that Glor threw, meant for the boar they were hunting. It had been his bad luck to stand right when Glor was throwing, trying to make up for giving away their position in the first place by stepping on an unnoticed twig. He was cursed with bad luck, he knew it and so did the rest of the tribe. That’s why he was alone so often, so that he couldn’t hurt others with his curse. And yet, he still found ways. If the tribe could afford it, they would have cast him out long ago. They were too small to afford such a luxury. As it was, they managed his curse as best they were able and kept him around. So long as his contributions to the tribe outweighed his curse, he should be fine.

It was a cold comfort that didn’t stop his stomach from growling.

The minutes turned into hours and Vandak distracted himself by counting how many times the sheep moved in their sleep. The average was three movements before settling down for a while. He didn’t count the ones that woke up fully, as they spent a lot of time moving or getting a late night snack. Like he wished he could.

Finally he heard steps behind him, and breathed a sigh of relief. He could scrounge up some food from the leftovers, perhaps. At the very least he’d be able to get something in his belly for the night. Whomever was relieving him had evidently eaten too much, judging from their groans.

“Took you long enough to get here!” He complained, turning around to face whomever was going to replace him. “I’ve been starving for the past few hours! How long does it take to eat mushrooms any…” He trailed off as the person stumbled forward out of the shadow. Fungus and mushrooms were growing out of his mouth and eyes. Vandak gagged, stumbling backwards, and gripping his staff tighter. “What, who-wha- Stay back!” He swung the staff, cracking the monster across the head. It’s head snapped back and it stumbled backwards, landing on the ground.

It snarled, suddenly rushing at him on all fours. Vandak backpedalled, gasping in fear. He needed to get past this thing, to warn the tribe. As he scrambled backwards, his eyes looked past the monster to see if anyone had heard the conflict. He let out a cry of fear, seeing more of those things rushing from where the tribe had been cooking the mushrooms. On all fours, they rushed towards him. As they got closer, he began to recognize them. Fungus grew from their faces and eyes, their hands and ears, their bodies and limbs, but he could recognize them, much to his horror.

Before he could flee and get away from these horrible monsters that used to be his tribe, his bad luck struck again. He tripped over a sheep that hadn’t fully awoken and the staff, his only weapon, flew from his hands off into the darkness. He scrambled backwards, muttering prayers to anything that would listen as the horde rushed forward, drooling and snarling. He just wanted to live, he just wanted to live, why did he have to be cursed with bad luck, he didn’t deserve this he didn’t deserve this, please something just go right in his godsforsaken life for once, please-

His panicked stream of thoughts were suddenly cut off as a white light enveloped him. The last thing he saw was the fungal monsters descending on the sheep like a ravenous horde. Vandak landed with a soft thud on cold dirt, gasping for breath and willing his heart to slow down as he stared up at the cavern ceiling. He was alive, he thought. His back hurt too much from where he landed for him to have been dead.

With a groan he pulled himself to a sitting position, looking around. He was in a nondescript cavern, with water flowing by. It was quiet and, strangely, comforting. The only thing that stood out to him was a small headstone. Vandak struggled to his feet and walked over to the headstone, quietly reading aloud what it read.

“Luck is gone, but her blessings remain.”

Summary

-Vandak the sheepherder is on guard duty, complaining about his bad luck and how he can’t eat some of the cool mushrooms one of his tribe gathered.

-Surprise, the mushrooms were the hiveminds fungal stuff, his tribe tries to eat

-Vandak tries to escape, trips, and then prays to anything that’ll listen to save him

-Fortune’s Refuge kicks in, and he’s teleportd there.

Blades of the Blood Coast

Faeril, as per usual, is annoyed by Lorcan and paranoid about an attack.

Blades of the Blood Coast

Faeril looked around the quarrem, with his lip instinctively curling. This was a hive where the rats of the city scurried about and hoped they wouldn’t be noticed by the guards. They wouldn’t receive any trouble from the law here. That long arm would only come down here occasionally to shake the nests or if the rats bit someone above their station. Still, this was what they would have to work with if they wanted to get the alcohol required to soothe the innkeep. Faeril kept his hood up and his back to the wall of the room that Raddek had entered. They didn’t want to attract the attention of anyone shilling broken wares or false powers.

“Hello my friends…..”

Faeril’s eyes beseeched the heavens as the fortune teller immediately started begging for coppers. Gods above, it was like he could smell that they had some money on them. The fortune teller was right to speak to them of course. There was at least one of them who wouldn’t be able to resist such wriggling worm on a shiny hook.

As if on cue, Lorcan opened his mouth. Faeril sighed as he watched the giant man walked over to the fortune teller, spouting off some nonsense about how the fortune teller was probably fake. Which was obvious to everyone with a pair of eyes. A real fortune teller wouldn’t be trapped in this hovel. It was as if the giant couldn't help himself. There was some desperate need for him to run his mouth and prove how smart and intelligent he was too the rest of the world at large. At every available opportunity. Still, it wouldn’t do them any good if the giant fool was shivved in front of them.

Faeril pulled his crossbow into his hands, and kept a careful eye out. Blood here would summon more rats.

Roll

Perception: 6 + 1 for 7

Divinus: The Deity Roleplay Mk. VI

Voligan

And

The Monarch of All

Voligan stood at the top of the Earthheart mountain, looking up towards the Palace. He turned into his true form and raised his voice to the heavens. “Lord of Creation! I, the Great Bearer of Lands, have come to request something of you. I have noticed the storm that haunts Galbar’s skies. I have seen the devastation and grief wrought by the attacks of my siblings on their own flesh and blood. I wish to prevent such crimes from happening again, and to fight with you against the battle that is coming. The bones of Galbar strain and groan with the rising tension of the conflict to come. I wish to be your Champion against whatever darkness plagues our canvas.” Voligan waited in his kneeling position with his head bowed, for the Monarch of All to respond. There came no voice, though; there was no grand statement from the Monarch of All, but the bridge to the Palace of the Divine extended itself to Voligan, opening the heaven so that one of His spawn may return.

Voligan entered the palace, turning his form to that of a humanoid made of shining silver, reflecting the red of the palace. He arrived before the Monarch of All, getting down on one knee and bowing his head towards this creator. It was always better to seem as humble and deferential as possible when one was requesting gifts from their creator. And creator was a far more fitting title for the Monarch than Father. The elder god was too distant, too overbearing, too demanding to be any paternal figure.

“With your blessing, and as your champion I would protect the canvas you have charged us with and ensure that no more of my siblings commit such gruesome crimes as familicide. I will be our shield against the darkness inside of my family, and your sword against the darkness that the earth of Galbar warns all of us of.” Voligan spoke calmly and clearly, head still bowed towards the Monarch of All.

The Monarch of All’s eyes went to Voligan, burning in his soul before the Monarch slumped back within the Jade Throne allowing the ruse of royal strength to fade as He had little to give at that time. The Almighty let out a pain groan, taking the time to think of an answer for the earth god as the pain radiated outwards, almost palpable to even Voligan. The hallowed form of the Ruler was battered from a previous fight, scars slowly receding into His form were noticeable all across His body. There was a sigh as the pain withdrew and the Monarch of All gazed upon Voligan once more, before His pained voice manifested itself weaker than it normally was.

”And what makes you worthy of being such a champion? Worthy of warring upon my behalf against those that wish to oppose my will?”

"I am the strongest of all my siblings." The statement was spoken matter-of-factly, without a boast or a hint of pride. He could feel the pain of his creator, the Monarch's battered form just at the edge of his vision.

"My siblings relied on my strength to raise the lands they now paint. When Ao-Yurin's sea water remnant attacked Rosalind, it was I who defeated her. When Aletheseus attempted to kill Rosalind, daring to question the power of your shackles, I was the one who defeated him. I have raised mighty mountain ranges to and islands that connect the two main lands, all without my strength faltering."

"I possess the self-control and wisdom to carry out your will without resorting to killing those that you do not wish to be killed. Much like the justice you meted out to Yudaiel, I am capable of bringing your will to bear without killing. Of course, my strength is more than capable of destroying whomever you deem deserves such a fate. My strength would be yours to direct, with the trust that it would not require your constant oversight."

There was silence as the Monarch of All’s gaze continued to wash over Voligan before He motioned a hand for the gods to rise. It was only until the great Supreme One let out a light, cruel chuckle that He would allow yet more words to callously move their way to the earth god. They seemed to be taunting in nature, almost looking for a reaction from Voligan as they swarmed into his mind with a dark, infectious hold.

”Would you say such things had you heard about my judgement upon your niece, Ea Nebel? How she is to endure four trials or die?”

If Voligan’s form had possessed any features, there would have been a twitch. A small crack in his deferential facade. As it was, there was the most fleeting of emotions from the now standing Earth god. Worry and anger appeared and were covered by the same calm confidence as before so quickly that any other being would have wondered if they had been felt at all.

“She is strong. She possesses the fire of her mother and the will of her father. She will take on these trials and not only survive them but grow from the experience. She will prove herself to you and all others that may be watching. And if not…” Voligan shrugged, almost pulling it off as a careless gesture. “Her father made her promise to not flee her doom.”

“Your judgement is unquestionable, your word is law. I would, and will as your champion, continue to enforce that even if I had been there for your judgement of Ea Nebel.”

”Your words convey unquestioning loyalty, yet, you wavered. I felt it.”

The cruel inflection of the voice had dropped itself, giving way to far more neutral one as the Monarch of All had responded to Voligan’s loyal words. However, He was able to detect the brief anger that the earth god had felt despite his best efforts to hide such feeling from the One. Voligan did not deny the claim but simply stood, awaiting the next words from his lord.

It was a tense few moments before the Monarch of All arose from His throne and continued His wordless gaze on Voligan, light reflecting off the form and decorating the walls. The Monarch of All spread two of his hands wide, outstretching them to either side of His form as His will manifested into cold words once more.

”There are beasts and monsters far more powerful than you that roam beyond and within the veil. I have faced such beasts, as has Tuku, we have slain the great Pariah. Could you accomplish such feats through strength alone? Could you face down death with unbroken will?”

“If my strength alone was not enough and my death was not required for victory, either right then or later, I would retreat and create weapons to increase my power. I have a talent for crafting, I have discovered. It is an aspect I would like to claim to further my skills as your champion and to more easily create whatever is needed to enact your will.”

Voligan looked up at the Monarch of All. Storing away the tidbit of information that he had been given. Things stronger than the gods? Strong enough that the Monarch needed help to slay them? That was something to be considered later. “I do not fear death, Lord of Creation. My will is my strength, and my strength is my will. If my death is required to protect my siblings, yourself, or the canvas you have created I will do so gladly.”

”You have proven to be loyal, to be a protector of family and the weak. Then let it be so, Voligan, Great Bearer of Lands, that you shall become my champion. You shall be my sword, arbitrator of my will, and protector of the Divine Palace and Galbar.”

As the Monarch of All spoke, power flooded into Voligan’s very soul as he was branded the Champion of the Monarch of All and imbued thusly imbued with the power that such a position held. The two hands that had sat at the ruler’s sides reached out and laid themselves to rest upon the shoulders of Voligan, their weight heavy but uplifting. His gaze met that of the earth god and it brought untold warmth to his soul, as the power continued to course through him until it fell away and became one with Voligan. The Earthheart was surprised by the weight, bracing himself as he received both the power of the Monarch and the weight of His gaze. Voligan’s silver form began to shine with an inner glow as he received the gift of the Monarch.

Once more would He speak, His voice presiding over the newly dubbed Champion of the Monarch.

”To this end, breaking the covenant that is being my champion will strip you of this power and you might not ever be able to regain it until proven worthy once more.”

Voligan nodded his understanding. With the title came responsibility, and if he neglected those responsibilities he would lose his title. It was only fair.

“I will be the sword and the shield, Lord of Creation. And I will not fail in those duties. To further your will and my duties, may I have the Aspect of Crafting, so that I may forge monuments and artifacts to honor you and help Galbar. ”

In a brief moment of consideration, the Monarch of All withdrew His hands, tucking them together as He sat upon the Jade Throne and looking past Voligan for a time, as if His gaze was wandering all over the planet. With a huff, He absentmindedly plucked yet another shard from His chest, loosing a curse of pain as He did so, before allowing the shard to slowly float to the earth god.

”So young and eager for yet more power than has already been gifted to you. Ambition can be a curse if not tended to properly. Do not disappoint me, Great Bearer of Lands.”

Voligan took the shard within himself, gasping as he felt his divine essence be irrevocably changed. His form, once only vaguely humanoid and ill-defined, sharpened into focus like a carved statue as lines of divine power spread all throughout him. His face remained featureless, but he was no longer a crudely shaped god. “My ambition is only borne of my desire to protect our family and paint your canvas as you have demanded, Lord of Creation.” He knelt before the Monarch again, as much out of respect as to catch his breath. The process of receiving a shard was more tiring than expected.

“I thank you for your trust and your gift. Unless you have a specific decree for me, Lord, I will take my leave and continue creating.”

”As a matter of fact, I do have a decree for you Voligan. I will give you this one order, make weapons and armor fit for use by those who would defend the palace. I will require an army’s worth for what I have planned.”

"As you say my Lord. I request to know what I will be making these weapons and armor for. As you are aware, weapons and armor for a Bjork are going to be different than the weapons and armor for a human."

The Monarch of All inclined His head, pondering the thought for a brief few moments before His voice dictated the answer to the champion in a more amused tone.

“Form will not matter. They will be molded into their armor.”

"Understood. Any specific requests for these weapons and armor?"

Gesturing to His body, the scars and wounds left behind by the pariah not so long ago, His voice split the air in a vindictive manner and filled the air with malice and anger. Wrought with a need for further revenge, His claws dug into the sides of His throne carving out the image of the Monarch of All skewering the great pariah upon the trident.

”Let them be powerful enough to fight the beasts that had done this to me.”

Summary

-Voligan requests permission to enter the Palace, it is granted.

-He arrives, kneels before the Monarch and requests to be named Champion.

-Monarch grills him about loyalty and such, Voligan passes and is named Champion.

-Voligan then requests the Crafting aspect. It is given on the condition he makes a metric fuck ton of arms and armor for the Monarch.

No Vigor spent.

Blades of the Blood Coast

Divinus: The Deity Roleplay Mk. VI

Voligan

The Great Bearer of Lands, The Earthheart

Aspect: Earth

Vigor: 9

Voligan headed back to the Earthheart Mountain, finally able to finish what he had started there now that things had calmed down. Or, at the very least, things weren’t so violently exploding that he had to drop everything and run all at once. He checked on the dwarves that he had established. They were doing well so far. Exploring the cave systems that he had established for them and beginning to organize themselves. One of them had risen as a natural leader and was directing those around him as they others looked to him for answers and guidance. Yes, they were doing well. They needed just a touch of guidance to help them on their way.

Voligan appeared in front of the dwarves as they went about their business, startling them as a vaguely humanoid rocky shape took form in front of them. They cowered before him, backpedaling from this faceless thing that looked over at them. Voligan held his hands out placatingly. “Do not be afraid. My name is Voligan, one of the Gods of the Monarch. I am here to help, and to teach you things that you will need to know if you are to thrive in this world.” Their leader pushed himself forward, looking up at Voligan. The fear was palpable in his eyes, but so too was the desire to protect those that were in his charge. Voligan was pleased to see that. The dwarf in front of him would be a good leader.

“What makes you a god? What makes you worthy of teaching us anything, and why should we believe that you’re not going to harm us instead?” He challenged, his voice shaking only a little. Voligan didn’t reply. They were good questions, and the first one at least deserved only a demonstration.

Voligan lifted his hand and the stone wall to his left melted away at his will, creating another long tunnel in the mountain. The dwarves all gasped and muttered amongst themselves, looking between Voligan and their leader. Voligan spoke before the leader could.

“What makes me worthy of teaching you is the fact that I created you and all of your fellows. I know more of what is going on amongst the pantheon of gods and the world outside than you could ever hope to discover in your mortal lives. I created this mountain in which you live, and I will teach you things that will make you the undisputed masters of this mountain and the range beyond it. As for why you should believe I won’t hurt you,” Voligan shrugged, and a deep pit opened up between them before rapidly closing. “I could have harmed you all without you ever knowing I was here.”

The dwarf nodded, slowly. The fear in his eyes wasn’t gone, but there was an understanding. Regardless of whether or not he trusted what Voligan was telling him was irrelevant. He didn’t have a choice but to go along with it, and he knew it. “Very well, Lord Voligan. Teach us.” Voligan chuckled, a sound like rocks tumbling together. “First lesson, do not call me Lord. I am not here to rule over you. What is your name?”

The dwarf relaxed, if only slightly, at that news. “I am called Hema.”

---

The dwarves turned out to be fast learners, once they got over their fear of him. They absorbed his lessons on the history of Galbar, as much as he knew at the very least, and hurriedly scratched crude renditions of the various creations, battles, and deaths onto the walls of a large cave. They did not want to forget the lessons and stories he had told them once he left. As quickly as they remembered and crudely recreated the stories of the gods, they also quickly picked up his lessons on how to make tools to shape the earth and how to make proper shelters that weren’t just what the caves naturally gave them. They chose the name for their group at his suggestion, naming themselves in honor of the god they lived atop of: The tribe of Aleth, or the Alethians. There was no discussion as to who would lead them, for they already knew. In all things, the dwarves looked to Hema for their cues and leadership. His direct challenges of Voligan had only solidified their choice in him.

Voligan pulled Hema aside after the final lessons. “Your fellows look up to you as a leader, Hema.” The dwarf nodded watching as the others experimented with and techniques they had been taught. “Yes. Despite my protestations, they continue to look to me for decisions and then abide by what I suggest.”

“Hmm. It sounds like you have been nominated as leader. You will need a title, and a symbol of power then.” Before Hema could protest, Voligan pulled a straight line of stone from the ground. “Yes, this will do nicely.” He held the line of rock in his hands and concentrated, forcing the dull and lifeless mineral to bend to his will and fill with his power.

The stone shifted and glowed with power. Voligan adjusted it til the artifact was to his liking, shortening and widening it until a lightly shining pegmatite scepter was in his hands. He rumbled, pleased with himself and his work. “I proclaim you the first Shaper of Aleth. May you guide your people justly and well, Hema.” A thought occurred to Voligan as Hema took the scepter. There were no other gods who built things, he was sure. It was a role he enjoyed, and one that he could step into. If he proved his skill at creation to the Monarch.

“I have to leave for now. I need to make requests of the Monarch of All, and he prefers the utmost respect and humility while in his presence. If you find yourself and your people in need of help, pray to me or whichever one of my siblings you think will help the most. The majority of us will answer and be helpful.”

Hema nodded again, staring at the scepter in his hands. By the time he looked upwards to fully reply to Voligan, the god was gone.

---

Voligan headed to the top of the Earthheart, where he was sure he would not be bothered. Before he could visit the Monarch with his request, he would need to prove his prowess. The Monarch would not willingly give up another one of his shards without proof that Voligan was deserving, afterall.

Voligan summoned a countless number of metals, gems, and minerals around him as he pondered what he would make next. “Hmm. The Scepter was a fine start, but simple. I need something with more impact now. Something that isn’t just an extension of my own power.” The cloud of materials swirled around him, occasionally stopping as he peered closer at one thing or another before continuing.

The light of the Tree of Harmony in the far distance caught his eye, and he was struck with an inspiration. Rapidly the materials all around him scattered away until he was left with metals and gems at his disposal. They spun around him, glowing with his power once more, as he spoke aloud and crafted them into shape. “Hmm. Mana is messy. Too many things that can go wrong, too much that is poorly defined. Something that can bring it into shape, no matter what is around or not around, is needed. Something that mortals can use reliably, without fear of their personalities or the nature of the realm around them changing things is what is needed.” By the time he had finished speaking, ten rings with ten gems were resting in the palms of his hands. Runes were carved into the bands, and each of the gems glowed lightly with an inner green fire. “Yes, these will do nicely for bringing order. But the mortals will have to earn them first, just as Hema earned his Scepter.” And he knew just the place to put the rings, waiting for a mortal to earn them. In his search for what was ultimately Ashevelen’s resting spot, he had passed by one of Astus’s Colossi, presumably destroyed by the blast. That would be a perfect place to put the rings, and let the mortals who found them earn their reward.

Voligan was there in a flash, carefully putting his rings in the center of the Colossus. “May mortals find you quickly, and discover your use to them.” He paused, looking up through the ruined Colossus. “Hmm. Mortals and strength.” Another idea struck him in a flash and he was gone.

Voligan returned to the top of the Earthheart, carefully pulling out the remnants of Aletheseus’s mask. It had been shredded by Iqelis and could no longer be used for its original purpose. But it could be crafted into something else, and Aletheseus’s will could live on in another way. The shredded mask began to glow a soft green as Voligan’s power filled it, and he slowly began to reshape it. This was connected to a divine, if deceased, being. Not only that, he wanted to get this perfect. Not just because the Monarch would be pleased with perfect work, but because Aletheseus, for all his faults, deserved an artifact that encapsulated him perfectly.

The tears in the metal slowly sealed shut as the mask lengthened and the many spikes and curls came back into the main body. It curled into a simple band with softly glowing smokey blue lines running through it. Simple. Perfectly made. Perfect for Aletheseus. Voligan put the crown back into his body for safekeeping, and then looked up towards the Palace. “No time like the present, I suppose.” He hoped that his nervousness didn’t show through to the Monarch. And if it did, that it didn’t get mistaken for aggression.

Summary

-Voligan, relieved that he he has time to do things now, heads back to the Earthheart. He briefly watches the dwarves he had dropped off there before revealing himself to them and beginning to guide and teach them.

-He teaches them all the history of the world and the gods (that he knows), how to do basic survival things like forage and make a fire, and also how to make basic tools to shape the earth and bricks to make simple shelters. He also encourages them to pick a name for their tribe, and they choose to be called the tribe of Aleth.

-During this he meets the de facto leader of the Alethians, Hema. Seeing that the tribe won’t choose anyone else, Voligan makes it official and gives Hema a fancy title (Shaper) and a fancy pegmatite scepter (The Stone Scepter). As he’s making the artifact, Voligan goes ‘man, there isn’t any gods dedicated to this. And I like doing this. If I can prove myself, I’ll be able to get this job from the Monarch!’

-He leaves to the top of the Earthheart and, once he’s inspired, creates two more artifacts The Rings of the Runemaster and the Peculiar Crown

-Confident that he has made enough things, he then heads up towards the Palace to meet with the Monarch and hopes that King Daddy his creator and lord is in a good mood.

Vigor

-1 Vigor (reduced from 2 due to aspect: Earth) to teach the Alethians how to make basic earth shaping tools, how to use those tools, the basics of survival (make fire, forage, make shelter, etc etc) and how to make bricks to make sturdier shelters.

-1 Vigor to create The Stone Scepter an artifact that turns its wielder into a Champion (but they still grow old and die) that can manipulate things around them like they have Voligan’s aspect (not to anywhere near the same extent he does, but to a really powerful degree for mortals)

-1 Vigor to create The Rings of the Runemaster Ten rings that form one artifact that allows the user to use Rune Magic instead of accessing Mana in the area. It produces a more reliable form of magic that is less powerful that traditional magic. But you also don’t have to fight your personality, the nature of the land, the nature of what you’re trying to do, and all that jazz.

-1 Vigor to create The Peculiar Crown a crown made from Aletheseus’s mask that fills its wearer with the aspect of Fortitude, making them really tough, filled with endless stamina, and strong of mind as well making them immune to fear, despair, and domination by all but the divine. However, it forces the wearer to also protect and help the innocent whenever they can.

5 Vigor left.

Blades of the Blood Coast

Faeril is all for not relying on their party's proven inability to be stealthy to get things done. He has money for this very reason!

Blades of the Blood Coast

Faeril murmured a prayer of thanks to Sulimo as they entered the light of day. It wouldn’t be much protection against anyone who truly wanted to do them harm, be they mortal or monster, but the protection of the light did offer some comfort. After last night, he would take all the small comforts he could get. He was especially troubled by the fact that the demon hadn’t been attacking Beren, but had been trying to get into the hallway. Unless Jonathan had some terribly dark secrets that he wasn’t revealing, he could only assume the thing was coming for one of them. It would have been easier to go through the door if it wanted to get to something or someone on the ground level, but it specifically chose the area where they were all sleeping. Troubling.

At least whoever had been murdering people in the streets didn’t seem connected. Beren had been burned by the hybrid, not bloodied. Whatever was going on with the bloodied corpse with a gaping hole in its side was, hopefully, not their problem. Faeril followed Raddek’s example and moved on without a word. That wasn’t something they wanted to involve themselves in.

The wharves were impressive, more impressive than Faeril would admit aloud. At some point he would have to take a proper tour of the city and just see how well done their architecture was all around. Everytime he discovered a new location, it seemed to get better and better. Not as good as home, of course. But better than most human works. Faeril scowled under his cloak as his back twinged at the memories. No sense in reminiscing. He wasn’t surprised that the docks were mostly empty of ships. Even for as large and wealthy as Varone was, no one wanted to go to a land that had been cursed by the gods.

Faeril leaned against a wall in the circle, keeping an eye out for anyone taking too much of an interest in them. They didn’t need any overly inquisitive fools bothering them, or thugs trying to rob them. He rolled his eyes at the immediate suggestions for sneaking and stealing. How quickly they forgot that the last time they tried to be stealthy the plan fell apart at the seams. Plus, it wasn’t like they needed to be picking fights in a city they didn’t even know.

“I’d suggest we go to the smugglers. No sense in us getting on the shit list of any group in the city when we haven’t been here long. And given our previous experiences with trying to be quiet and stealthy, “ Faeril looked pointedly at Lorcan before continuing, “I’m going to guess we’ll fail at that. We have the money for it, might as well make a small connection with a smuggler. Easier than trying to sneak in and then having to cut our way out.” He turned to face the group, hiding his coin pouch from any prying eyes, and pulled out the five golden royals. “Unless the smuggler deals exclusively to nobles and the rich, this should be more than enough. Or do a job for them in exchange for the alcohol. And if it all falls through then we can go find some poor bastards and steal their alcohol.” He shrugged, stashing the coins away again and returning to watching the wharves. “Seems easier that way.”

rolls

Perception: 1+1 = 2. Faeril is mostly focused on the conversation, alas

Blades of the Blood Coast

Should have a post up tomorrow. Sorry for the delay, between exams and holiday season things have been a little crazy.