Goldeagle1221

Divinus: The God RP, Mk. III. Finished in Record Time™!

Very tantalizing.

Divinus: The Divine RP, Mk. III

A work in progress for sure. @Cyclone: to note, I was iffy on if the form section would fly, but my argument for it is... well it's a dream, anything can happen.

K'nell

Name:

K'nell

Their Sphere:

The Palace of Dreams -- A ethereal capital of towering spires and cavernous ballrooms. This sepulchure of the sleeping, and den of dreams is what calls all mortal life to sleep. An evergoing party of limitless themes and scenarios plays at the palace in perpetuity, and all are invited to the point that their attendance is mandatory. The pull of this palace can be described as tiredness and exhaustion (an almost entropic pull on awake and awareness), and to fulfill the attendance requirement is to sleep.

The palace has an endless amount of rooms, each incredibly tiny or infinitely large, sometimes both. These strange rooms hold all the combinations possible for any scenario, or as K’nell sees it, stages for any play possible. At the center of the palace is the throne room, a decadent ballroom where creatures and guests of the dreamscape collect and dance around the throne of K’nell. Further back in the palace there lies a library, fit with a record of all of K’nells artistic creations so he may enjoy them long after they have been dreamt, despite this record, K’nell is hardly seen using it, claiming to say he rarely finds pleasure in the same dream twice.

Location of Sphere:

The Palace of Dreams is chthonic, located directly below Galbar, as to influence the circadian rhythm of the mortal sphere.

Portfolio:

K'nell is embedded with the powers of sleep. He has the ability to create, destroy, and alter all functions of sleep. Where there is no sleep, he can make it, where there is sleep, he can take it away. The essence (mind, soul, spirit, however you want to describe the separation of corporeal body and a non entropic extracorporeal form) of sleeping beings are swept to his palace, where he reigns supreme. At the palace he can assign dreams and nightmares, or otherwise craft the entire sleeping experience (to which he finds great pleasure in doing). In some cases K'nell has been known to cause day dreams, quick jaunts in the palace without entirely submerging the subject in sleep.

Persona:

K'nell can be described as greedy. He is a sovereign in his own right, and because of this he demands all sentient creations on Galbar to be subject to his reign. He considers himself generous, however, and only demands half of their lives at a time (but in truth he simply wishes his guests to have free will, so as to spice up the party). This manifests as sleep, where half a sentients’ life is spent sleeping in various increments, where they join the Lord of the Palace of Dreams in his perpetual festival.

Despite the almost tyrannical demand, his reasons are far more unique. He does not wish to conquer and subjugate, but rather demands attendance to keep the party going, to keep his palace lively, and to make new faces and old appear to entertain him and his ethereal guests.

K'nell himself is known to be polite, youthful, creative, and even fun so long as his greedy demands of sleep are met. His taste for the finer things as well as the curious have given him the nickname of the Gentleman of Dreams, or Good Man Sleep.

Creating dreams and unique sleeping experiences both good and bad are K'nell’s passions, as every entertaining sleep equals an entertaining event at the perpetual party. He uses dreams and nightmares to create all sorts of fun, and he does it without bar. He is the sole sovereign of dreams and liberally exercises this right for his own fun, revelling in both the conscious and subconscious results of his limitless creations and woven stories.

Appearance/Form:

Outside of the Palace of Dreams, K'nell appears as a well dressed gentleman. His face is young, pale and shaven, with two dark eyes and a polite cheshire smile. Inside the palace, K'nell can take any form, and such appears as any form imaginable in dreams and nightmares

Musical Theme:

Hider

youtube.com/watch?v=VNUgsbKisp8

Divinus: The Divine RP, Mk. III

Dibs on deity of sleep and dreams.

Phosphoros

Farrin watched with knitted brow as is new group cut through the Hoplites. His own hand was making work of the lashings of one of the horses in the stables, the frightened movement of the horse making everything difficult. As the last of the hoplites were cut down, Farrin’s fears were made reality: the bronze helmet of one of the Kotharians rolled off as the body slammed into the bloodied dirt, revealing a youthful face, no older than fourteen or fifteen winters. A horn blew and Farrin snapped to attention, his face looking back towards the town.

“Hold fast, most of these were green, tempted by loot to abandon the bulk,” Farrin shouted over the ever growing cheer in the distance. Slowly a black line of soldiers began to ooze through the buildings of the town, the grunts of unified movement matched by a harmony of steps. The enemy was closer than expected, with some Kothar soldiers spilling out next to the stalls, a mere stone’s throw away, each chanting a single name.

“Torros! Torros! Torros!”

The champion whose name they chanted walked in front of the soldiers, a tattered red cape snapping in the wind, and a spear pointed at Farrin. It became apparent that without a good distraction, the Kothar were close enough to gather their own horses and chase down the group if they had wished.

Farrin quickly turned to the closest member of his group, Alcello, and handed him the reins of the horse he had just untied, “Ride for Roshad, find the Silesian named Yua’ad in the great library, and give him this.”

The old man procured a jeweled dagger from his belt and handed it to Alcello, “tell him to take you to the second gem, he will trust you.”

Farrin took Alcello’s other hand and palmed the gem into it, “You have an old Kestaphos’ trust, Yua’ad will fill in the rest.”

With a gentle push Farrin nodded at Alcello before turning to the approaching Torros and unleashing his own blade from its scabbard. Pointing it at Torros, Farrin yelled, “Let Lekos decide who deserves to live among us!”

Torros bellowed back from across the dusty street, “I accept your challenge, old man.”

Farrin swung his blade a few times and began his walk towards Torros, the other Kothar soldiers stopping in their place to observe what would be a massacre of the highest caliber, and in the name of Lekos to boot.

The old Kestaphos raised his blade in an unusual ward, unseen far from outside the lands of Silesea, “by Ill-” Farrin was cut off as a stampede of horses shook the ground, a wave of Mennonites breaking out of the plains to the west and spilling into the town, lead by a line of shimmering Kestaphos, lances angled. The old hero cringed as he heard the unmistakable slam of the two armies and the screams of the horses. Bodies went flying into the air, some ripped off of horses, others pounded out of the simple shield wall the Kotharian’s managed to form. Despite this, Torros stood unharmed, his eyes glaring like a devil’s at Farrin.

“Fools,” Farrin muttered, he craned his head towards his group, “Leave!”

Without another word the old man charged into the new fray. He ducked under a swinging shield, slicing at the knee of the offender as he slinked by. He dodged to the right, avoiding a spear tip, and as a Kestapos lance nearly struck him in the head, he rolled.

The old man tumbled between the piles of the slain and the forest of fighting men around him, sliding his handless arm through the loop of a Mennonite cavalry shield. Rising quickly back to his feet, he raised the leather bound wooden shield, a great thwack sounding as a Kothar kopis chopped into it.

Farrin looked past the shield to the arm holding the kopis, the arm of Torros. The man’s face was twisted with the rage of battle, blood speckling his tanned skin. Farrin yanked his shield to the side in an attempt to disarm Torros, but the seasoned warrior held fast, ripping the blade out of the shield in time.

Torros swung again, but Farrin slipped to the left. He punched out with the shield, but Torros leapt backwards, only to spring forwards again with his blade. Farrin caught the iron with his own sword, the blades sliding off each other with a vibrating clang. Another Kothar soldier thrusted forward with his spear, but Farrin managed to step into it, knocking the spear to the side with his sword. Before Farrin could counter strike, however, Torros swung his blade at the back of Farrin’s leg. Quickly the old man slapped the other enemies spear with his shield, forcing it at an angle to parry Torros’ strike. The Kothar soldier swung with his shield arm, but Farrin ducked, rising up to strike Torros, who spun away from Farrin’s sword.

A Mennonite stabbed at Torros as he escaped Farrin’s swing, but Torro’s quickly hacked his kopis into the soldier’s exposed inner elbow, severing it all for a length of stringy muscle in an explosion of scarlet. The Mennonite’s attack fell limp, and Torros spun behind the screaming man in time to use him as a living shield against a Kestaphos’ lance.

Farrin leapt from the fighting masses, his blade leveled at Torros’ neck. The Kotharian managed to catch the blow in time on the bottom of his blade, Farrin’s sword cutting a notch into the edge of his kopis. Farrin swung backwards, his blade slicing an unexpecting Kothar soldier who was approaching from behind, the Silesian metal sinking into the soft exposed flesh of the neck. The Kothar gurgled as he fell to the ground, Torros not missing a beat and stabbing at the exposed Farrin. Farrin shifted to a side stance, catching the kopis on his battered shield. Farrin took the second of control to lean forward and shove Torros, who fell backwards into the fray. The old man gritted his teeth, leaping in after Torros as both Kothar and Mennonite soldiers overtook any chance for Farrin to escape the battle, their own eyes set on survival in the ever growing mist of blood and gore.

Phosphoros

@Briza @Cleverbird @Aristo @Dr Catfish

Ukufila the Dung beetle -- Ukufila represents new birth as well as the continuation of life. Friend of Kalpii, signs of Ukufila are often taken as a blessing, especially after the death of loved one or before a birth, for the dreamer can rest easy knowing that Ukufila has them safely in their grasp, to be contentiously moved through the dreaming in bliss until their renewal or on a safe delivery to the mortal realm where Kalpii awaits their arrival.

Ukufila and Uiyo were born at the same time in the dreaming, and while childhood friends as well as brothers, when time came to decide who would bring the dream souls back to the dreaming from the mortal realm and who would endlessly move them through the dreaming, the two entered a contest. Teccum aided Uiyo in fooling Ukufila by inviting Ifu and the other elders of the dreaming to watch the competition, while advising Uiyo to test Ukufila's ability in strength and endurance rather than the guile and charisma needed in the mortal realm.

Uiyo decided that the challenge would be to roll a massive boulder from one end of the dreaming to the other, and back again, to which when Ukufila completed the task with ease, Uiyo was merely beginning. The words of Teccum slithered in the ears of Ifu, Isihlahla and the Elders, and it was decided. Ukufila was indeed the strongest, most induring spirit of the Dreaming, and this it was only rightfully so he be tasked with moving the souls through the dreaming, granting Uiyo the coveted position of being the intermediate between the mortal realm and the dreaming for deceased souls.

Ukufila, however, mended his relationship with Uiyo under the guidance of Kalpii and Isihlahla the Baobab, and now the two work together in synchronous harmony.

Isihlahla the Baobab -- Isihlahla the Baobab tree is the great elder of the dreaming, and her visage represents home and family. From her the mortals were eventually budded, and when he saw them different, he planted them in a new garden, the mortal realm. From these first seeds the many people of the cradle grew. Isihlahla is taken in reverence for all decisions that would affect the tribe greatly, or for the union and separation of people. Her unifying spirit is often called upon during arrangements and agreements, the callers knowing her roots lie in all things social, and her great branches shade honesty from corruption.

From her the dreaming was populated and from her the mortal realm was populated.

Lanzi the Fish -- Lanzi the Fish is a symbol of great fortune and luck. Often worn as a badge next to Kalpii on the chests of warriors and merchants alike, Lanzi insures that the odds are ever in the favor of the deserving. Lanzi is also the symbol of truth, and such is often crucial in times of law and justice. Lanzi despises Teccum.

Thengisi the Gorrak -- Thengisi the Gorrak is the mark of the worst a mortal can do. She is the symbol of murder, treason, violence, and adultry. When her image appears in the minds of the dreamers, great caution is taken in the days ahead. Thengisi despises even herself, and wishes to punish all who she symbolizes in the dreaming. Souls said to have undergone the punishing of Thengisi before rebirth are said to cause suspicious birthmarks similar to a gorrak bite on the neck or ankles. Self obsessed criminals sometimes will tattoo gorrak bites on their necks and ankles to symbolize their way of life, or sometimes an elder may call for this to be done as an eternal punishment for the criminal, letting all in Baccum who see's them know that they are tainted.


Ifu the Cloud -- Ifu the cloud is the husband of Isihlahla, and from their marriage the spirits of the dreaming were born. Ifu represents redemption, rejoice, joy, love, compassion, and heroes. The mark of Ifu is a sacred tattoo that very little have the worth of receiving. Ifu sees that all children of Isihlahla, both mortal and spirit, both bad and good, both pure and corrupt, have a chance at redemption, at true happiness in the dreaming and beyond. He turns away no one and represents true altruism. It is said that all heroes have felt the call of Ifu somewhere along their way through life, and that all who have wronged the world may yet become as Ifu is.

The tale of Ifu is an old one, about the storm cloud and the Baobab tree, to which the storm wrecked the lonely tree for years upon end. The storm would throw down her branches, rip up her leaves, scatter her fruit to land not fertile. Many years went by, and with each outrage, the Baobab tree would sing to the storm, in hopes that it may one day hear her words of plea. Slowly the song penetrated the storm, to which they fell on the ears of the raging Ifu, who in time calmed to listen. He grew of shame for his actions, but was easily forgiven by the Baobab Isihlahla, and in time, the two fell into a deep love.

Ifu has been redeemed, and found happiness, to which he offers to all his children. It is said every mortal is born with both the storm of Ifu and the song of Isihlahla, and that one day we must all decide whether to hear the song that pleas inside us, and calm our storm to allow happiness, or rage on and destroy the Boabab in blindness.

Phosphoros

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jS_Shu8y0sI

Phosphoros

Farrin let his eyes bounce from each face as they poised their questions, and flexed their confidence upon each other; To him, in all his years, this was a familiar sight. The young and the ambitious had always bickered like hyena when presented with opportunity, each having relied on their own natural abilities so long they have yet to learn the many paths to the same goal. Farrin's thoughts were wise enough to separate a few from this category, as some bore the cracked voice of experience, the wrinkled eye of conflict, and in one case, the jade of an old soldier.

Farrin nodded to himself as he pondered their questions, knowing in his heart that either the young will grow old in the quest before them, or remain young for eternity. He sucked in a thoughtful breath and first addressed the calmer and more collected of the Baccumese, the young man who had wondered if a gem truly rests in Baccum," Baccum is not alone in being unaware of such a object being hidden in her own earth and skies, a good four out of five of the nations are unaware of their existence completely."

He looked over at the Woman of Marra, her beauty falling mute on old eyes that had seen the price paid for her existance, "As fr how I myself acquired it, I had used the knowledge of the books in that ancient temple I had found in the Brimlands, and delved into a great chasm between two plains. The Sorcerer had taken notice of me, but only too late, and his monstrous ghouls were well taken care of. I fear next time we may not be so lucky to be there first."

"As per our task," He turned to the larger, boisterous Baccumese man and held out his hand, his empty palm open to Cical, awaiting the return of the gem.

Phosphoros

p-p-p-poost

Phosphoros

Farrin grinned wide, holding the gem up before suddenly tossing it to Cical, "By the Ancestors of Mennon, I'd like to see you try and crack it, Sky gods of Roshad and the Hubris of Kothar know's I've tried."

The great old man suddenly stood up, his legs shaking not out of weakness, but something akin to a great giant waking up after a long sleep. The old Mennonite stood tall and broad despite his age. He stared intently at Cical, his remaining hand tight on the pommel of a curved Silesian blade, "if things were as easy as you suspected, there would be no use in this gathering, boy."

"But go ahead," Farrin nudged his chin at Cical, "it is only fitting we end the sin of the ancients hubris by starting with an act of our own."

Before waiting to see if Cical would attempt to break the gem, Farrin continued, "but of course, that leaves question on what we shall do when we do have all the gems. An old Roshad tale tells of the great hallow of the cradle, a dire hellscape deep underground. I believe with all five gems we can access such a terrible place, and at its center, we offer the power of the old mountain back to the cradle, and then we seal this place..."

"But of course," Farrin swallowed drly, "we have plenty of task to do before such a grande endeavor."

Phosphoros

I return from active week!