Zee; Coming from the person that pulled K’nell of super duper well, I have no complaints or nitpicks about Joab. My only fear is that Joab becomes stale because he’s so rigid. But like I said, if anyone can make it work, it’s Gold.
NF: Seems good, I approve.
Capy: ✔️ Dogma -> Punishment seems okay for a theme, personality is similar to previous logic gods, which isn’t bad, its a good archetype for a character than crosses the line between keeper of the peace and evil tyrant. I think Gold has a good plan for how this character will evolve, and the avatar type seems to have become normal in this Mk so I no longer have questions about it.
Capy: ✔️ Ink is an interesting domain, can certainly hold 3 ports and seems like a different take on a possible culture port but with more flavour. I think it's fine. Formless avatars are fine so I don’t see a problem with that. It feels like a type of character that is very flexible while staying on theme. So I am all for it.
Zee; I have a very peculiar image of this character as I listened to the musical theme and read the contents of the app. I like Meghzaal, just as I’ve liked most of Kho’s works, so I might be a little biased.
NF: Seems like a good idea, and fairly unique too. He’s already discussed quite a few ideas with other characters, so I think he’s good to go.
Domain: Perfection. More specifically, bodily perfection, and the constant strive to achieve it. Cadien’s domain is the improvement of one’s appearance or abilities, so that they may reach their physical peak. He is well-versed in the creation and alteration of physical forms.
Although perfection is unobtainable at worst and subjective at best, a fact which Cadien is painfully aware of, it is nonetheless a goal he insists on striving for, and encourages all beings regardless of position or stature to do the same. His followers will never achieve true perfection, but so long as they are always finding new ways to improve, he does not care.
Portfolio: Glamour. The attractiveness of a sentient being’s physical form. With this power, Cadien has the ability to alter the physical appearance of himself and others, or to give people the means to help improve themselves on their own. While he himself has the power to change genders at will and make aesthetic modifications to his own portfolio, he cannot fundamentally change a creature’s shape. He can only make other creatures’ appearances more or less appealing according to either his own personal standards, the individual’s standards, or the standards of the creature’s species.
Realm: Cadien’s Realm, Meliorem, is a fortress situated atop a solid white cloud, floating in an endless blue void. It is connected to Antiquity via a portal of purple energy, framed by a ring of solid gold that is studded with amethysts, and situated at the cloud’s edge.
Upon arriving in Meliorem through the portal, the visitor must then follow a cobblestone path toward the fortress itself - a castle of black stone, with strong walls and sturdy towers. After entering the gatehouse, they will find themselves standing in a grassy courtyard, with exotic flowerbeds at the edges.
The pathway continues forward, flanked by two fountains of sparkling pure water, before it reaches a series of steps leading up to the building’s entrance - a mahogany door with a golden knocker. Upon entering this door, the visitor will find themselves a long hallway, with a carpet of purple velvet. On either side of the hallway are a series of marble statues, representing each of Galbar’s sapient species, with a male and female version for each, and all take the form of their species’ ideal beauty.
Eventually the hallway opens up into a large room with a long dining table, and an ornate marble throne at the end, with luxuriously soft cushions. On either side of this throne room are a series of doors which branch off into hallways and side chambers.
These chambers are constantly shifting based on Cadien’s needs and desires. Art galleries, smithies, gyms, libraries… even connections to other gods’ spheres, assuming he meets one he is willing to form said connection with.
Persona: Cadien is something of a paradox; a perfectionist who knows that perfectionist is unobtainable. He encourages himself and others to rise up and seek improvement, despite knowing there is no end to this quest, and even if there was an end it would make life lose all meaning.
Despite this inner turmoil, he soldiers on. To share his doubts with others would be to show weakness, and perhaps even invalidate his own existence. He maintains an exuberant persona, providing positive reinforcement to gods and mortals alike, while taking the time to enjoy the finer things in life - perhaps to distract himself from his own internal strife.
As previously stated, his philosophy is centered around the perpetual quest for physical improvement. It does not matter if you are strong, attractive, weak, or ugly. So long as you are attempting to become something better than you already are, you are worthy of his respect. If a mortal becomes too complacent with their current prowess, and succumbs to entropy or stagnation, then he loses interest.
He is not as judgemental toward his divine kin, because he understands they are already among the most powerful beings in existence, but he holds great respect for other gods who still find ways to improve themselves or to help others seek improvement. He is a diplomat at heart, and may not always speak the truth.
Base Form: Cadien’s Base Form is that of a seven foot tall man (or woman), with white hair and violet eyes. His skin is flawless, and his muscles well-sculpted. He prefers to wear only a simple loincloth, but is willing to put on armour (usually gold) or clothing (usually purple) if for whatever reason he decides it is necessary. He makes minor tweaks to his form from time to time - nothing that is blatantly noticeable, just slight changes in his eye colour, hair length, muscle mass, or skin tone.
Domain Form: Cadien’s domain form is that of a four-armed humanoid, fifty feet in height, with violet skin, and a serpentine tail in place of legs. A pair of angelic wings sprout from his back, and he has a lush head of flowing white hair. His torso is protected by a golden chestplate.
How does this form represent perfection? Through its utility. The wings allow for agile flight, while the tail allows him to swiftly swim through the water.
Avatar: Cadien’s Avatar is Makellos, the Spirit of Perfection. Makellos takes the form of a swirling mass of purple energy. This avatar does not have a physical form, and instead latches onto mortals, inspiring them to pursue the Path to Perfection. During this possession, their form is gradually altered into an idealized version of themself.
Makellos and the host become one entity. The host maintains most of their personality, but adopts Cadien’s philosophy and drive for self-improvement. Thus, they will strive to ensure that Cadien’s will is done, by inspiring others to follow the Path, but each may have a slightly different interpretation on how to go about it, and may also still be bound by the behavioural patterns of their old self.
The possession lasts a few years, before Makellos eventually leaves, moving on to find a new host. The old host will have their personality restored, and the enhancements remain, but they may feel lost or confused as a result. With each possession Makellos acquires new information about the host he is inhabiting, which is telepathically sent to Cadien, who uses it to devise new methods to perfect the host’s species.
While not possessing someone, Makellos rarely communicates with anyone other than Cadien himself, so it is somewhat unclear if Makellos possesses a personality of its own. But it does, and each host it possesses influences it somewhat, just as it influenced them.
Domain: Perfection. More specifically, bodily perfection, and the constant strive to achieve it. Caedin’s domain is the improvement of one’s appearance or abilities, so that they may reach their physical peak. Although perfection is unobtainable at worst and subjective at best, a fact which Caedin is painfully aware of, it is nonetheless a goal he insists on striving for, and encourages all beings regardless of position or stature to do the same.
His followers will never achieve true perfection, but so long as they are always finding new ways to improve, he does not care.
Portfolio: Glamour. The attractiveness of a sentient being’s physical form. With this power, Caedin has the ability to alter the physical appearance of himself and others, or to give people the means to help improve themselves on their own. He cannot fundamentally change a creature’s shape, he can only make its appearance more or less appealing according to either his own personal standards, the individual’s standards, or the standards of the creature’s species.
Realm: Caedin’s realm, Meliorem, is constantly shifting. When he isn’t receiving visitors or otherwise occupied, he is reforming and reshaping it in his eternal pursuit of perfection. Occasionally he will find something he is temporarily satisfied with, bringing his realm to a state of peace, but it never lasts. If he hears he is receiving a visitor, then he will shift his realm into something he believes they will find appealing, but he has enough restraint to not constantly reshape it when they are actually present.
All that said, his realm does have a few “default” states he finds pleasant or enjoyable, even if he knows they are imperfect. A tropical beach with a sparkling ocean, a cabin in the midst of a tranquill forest, and a magnificent castle with a glorious view from a mountaintop.
Persona: Caedin is something of a paradox; a perfectionist who knows that perfection is unobtainable. He encourages himself and others to rise up and seek improvement, despite knowing there is no end to this quest, and even if there was an end it would make life lose all meaning.
Despite this inner turmoil, he soldiers on. To share his doubts with others would be to show weakness, and perhaps even invalidate his own existence. He maintains an exuberant persona, providing positive reinforcement to gods and mortals alike, while taking the time to enjoy the finer things in life - perhaps to distract himself from his own internal strife.
As previously stated, his philosophy is centered around the perpetual quest for physical improvement. It does not matter if you are strong, attractive, weak, or ugly. So long as you are attempting to become something better than you already are, you are worthy of his respect. If a mortal becomes too complacent with their current prowess, and succumbs to entropy or stagnation, then he loses interest.
He is not as judgemental toward his divine kin, because he understands they are already among the most powerful beings in existence, but he holds great respect for other gods who still find ways to improve themselves or to help others seek improvement.
Base Form: Caedin’s Base Form is that of a seven foot tall man, with white hair and violet eyes. His skin is flawless, and his muscles well-sculpted. He prefers to wear only a simple loincloth, but is willing to put on armour or clothing if for whatever reason he decides it is necessary. He makes minor tweaks to his form from time to time - nothing that is blatantly noticeable, just slight changes in his eye colour, hair length, muscle mass, or skin tone.
Domain Form: Caedin’s Domain Form is almost identical to his base form… only it is a woman instead - a foot shorter with a curvaceous and well-endowed figure. In this form, she tends to prefer wearing short gowns, but once again will not object to wearing less revealing clothes.
Avatar: Caedin’s Avatar is Makellos, the Spirit of Perfection. Makellos takes the form of a swirling mass of purple energy. This avatar does not have a physical form, and instead latches onto mortals, inspiring them to pursue the Path to Perfection. During this possession, their form is gradually altered into an idealized version of themself.
Makellos and the host become one entity. The host maintains most of their personality, but adopts Caedin’s philosophy and drive for self-improvement. Thus, they will strive to ensure that Caedin’s will is done, by inspiring others to follow the Path, but each may have a slightly different interpretation on how to go about it, and may also still be bound by the behavioural patterns of their old self.
The possession lasts a few years, before Makellos eventually leaves, moving on to find a new host. The old host will have their personality restored, and the enhancements remain, but they may feel lost or confused as a result. With each possession Makellos acquires new information about the host he is inhabiting, which is telepathically sent to Caedin, who uses it to devise new methods to perfect the host’s species.
While not possessing someone, Makellos rarely communicates with anyone other than Caedin himself, so it is somewhat unclear if Makellos possesses a personality of its own. But it does, and each host it possesses influences it somewhat, just as it influenced them.
Domain: Pestilence. Although in this context, pestilence is not just disease, but the more malignant aspects of nature in general. Where there is life, there must be death, and Raspadel commands the natural transition between the two states. To this end, Raspadel holds power over decay, poison, disease, rot, mould, and many other unpleasant and disgusting things. He may create new diseases or poisons, and alleviate or worsen their symptoms, and he may speed or slow the natural process of decay on organic matter. Lastly, he holds more influence over those who are sick or dying, capable of manipulating their minds or granting them pestilence-related abilities.
Portfolio: Decay. All things degrade over time, and this natural phenomenon is what Raspadel holds power over. He can make mortals age more quickly, and can reduce corpses into a pile of bones and fertilizer within mere seconds. He may also slow these processes, but he cannot reverse them or halt them entirely - nor would he ever want to.
His power over decay also extends to non-organic matter. He can make stone crumble, or force metal to rust. However, this aspect of his Portfolio is not supported by his Domain.
Realm: The Wasteland. A series of lush, but deadly ecosystems can be found at its edges; poisonous jungles, mushroom forests, and dreary swamps. It is in one of these locations that a visitor will first appear. If they venture further inland, they will find a vast landscape of rolling plains and hills, made from mud, fungus, and moss. At the center of the Wasteland is a lake of acidic green slime, with an island of dead trees and barren soil in the middle.
The entire Realm reeks of sickness and decay, with fungal spores and bacteria clinging to the very air itself. From time to time, it also receives storms of acid rain. When the night sky isn’t obscured by clouds or fog, Galbar can be seen above, though it is unknown if it is an illusion or the real thing.
Even the gods begin to feel sick and nauseous after prolonged exposure. For mortals, the only way to survive this realm is to have either the protection of a god, or to already be afflicted with some sort of ailment before they enter, in which case they are rendered inexplicably immune to the realm’s acid and various diseases.
This does not protect them from other hazards, however. The vast majority of the Wasteland’s ‘flora’ is poisonous, and the fauna is as ferocious as it is disgusting.
Persona: Despite the repulsiveness of himself and his creations, Raspadel has a kind heart. He considers everything he creates and all those who are afflicted by sickness to be his children, and he loves them all. Yet he does not mourn their deaths, for all things die, but he will do what he can to make the passing of those who have already come to terms with their fate comfortable, and he is extremely defensive against any who would attack or persecute them.
Meanwhile, he has little other than apathy toward the strong and the healthy. He does not loathe them, but he sees it as his duty to keep their population in check, and he does not pity them because their life is already pretty good as is. If someone is strong and healthy, then they already have far more advantages than many others, so he is merely knocking them down a peg. Not all of his afflictions are fatal, after all, and even the lethal ones can be survived.
Base Form: Raspadel's Base Form is that of a seven foot tall man clad in slightly faded green robes, spotted with mud. He carries a walking stick, yet he walks perfectly fine, and his posture is flawless. The hood obscures his face with an unnatural shadow, but a single horn protrudes and curves upward from his forehead.
Domain Form: Raspadel’s Domain Form is that of a cute green tree frog, roughly the size of a human hand, with bright red eyes and an equally red underside. A single spiked horn juts from his forehead. If threatened, he can emit a noxious gas that is toxic even to the gods.
Avatar: Raspadel’s Avatar is named Maladia. She takes the form of a six foot tall woman with sickly green skin, long white hair, yellow eyes, and a single horn protruding from her forehead. At will, she may grow a pair of moth wings, allowing her to gracefully glide through the air. She has a smooth, pleasant sounding voice. Maladia also possesses a fit and shapely figure, with both skin and hair as smooth as silk. At a distance, there is no doubt that she is highly attractive.
At a distance.
Maladia’s eyes are bloodshot. Her teeth, although full and undamaged, are a sickly yellow. Her veins are of similar yellowness to her eyes and teeth, and she bleeds a foul pus which carries a dozen different diseases within. Her moth wings, although perfectly functional, are frayed and spotted with small holes. Grass withers and dies under her bare feet, and to the healthy, she emits a rancid odour similar to that of a skunk.
Yet to those who are sick, poisoned, or dying, she emits a very different scent - one that is pleasant and soothing. Nobody is certain what it is, for it varies from person to person. It is similar to their favourite smell, but never identical. Meanwhile, her voice takes on an alluring, almost sirenic quality which might even be strong enough to banish whatever fears they have of her unusual appearance. To the suffering and the dying, she can be a source of much-needed comfort.
It was early in the afternoon when the vessel arrived.
It soared through the sky, its sleek metal hull shining brightly in the tropical sun. Some would be reminded of Shengshi’s ship; it had the same core structure, though it had wings, and lacked buildings at the top.
It passed over the village, to the fear or wonder of its inhabitants, before landing in a large clearing just on the outskirts.
It did not take long before Arya, wearing her large sun hat, descended upon the scene with a giddy smile on her face. She was amazed by the flying fortress, it reminded her so much of Ohannekeloi’s and Shengshi’s but was neither of them all the same. She could only imagine who it was, but she had a sneaking suspicion. She approached with little caution, and before long was able to see the figure behind the wheel. Karamir.
She quickened her pace, and with outstretched arms, she flew in to give him a hug. Karamir’s arms wrapped around her as he returned the gesture. “I hope I wasn’t gone too long,” he whispered into her ear. She pulled away and looked at him for a moment before exaggerating, ”Oh Karamir! How I’ve missed you so!” she brought her hand up to her forehead and pretended to feign distress before bursting out laughing.
As she laughed, a knife appeared in her other hand, before vanishing just as quickly, and a look of relief crossed Karamir’s face. “Well, I certainly missed you,” he said, stepping forward to embrace her once again.
She embraced him back, growing quiet. After a moment she spoke. Her voice soft and peaceful. ”How have you been?”
“I’ve been great,”Karamir said. “How have things been here?”
She once again pulled away and smiled up at Karamir. ”Peaceful.” she started, ”I’ve begun to mend fences with the Mir, but I know in their hearts just how saddened they still are. The rest of the Nebulites… They want to learn how to fight, how to protect with more than just sticks and spears. Your mana has helped, and for that I am thankful.” she finished, and grabbed his hands with hers. ”You did not leave here with this.” she mused, looking around the deck.
It was then that she noticed they were not the only two on the deck. A dark-haired Vallamir man clad in furs was ascending the stairs up to the helm, a spear in his hand and a sling at his belt.
Karamir nodded. “I spoke to Abanoc, and he taught me how to make this. Among other things. Chopstick Eyes wanted to call it the ‘Karamirific Megambulator’, or something like that.” Then the man had finished his ascent, and was standing nearby. “This is Karlyn,” Karamir introduced the stranger, who gave Arya a respectful salute.
Arya awkwardly saluted back at Karlyn. ”Nice to meet you.” she said with a friendly smile. She then looked back at Karamir and rose an eyebrow. ”So it was Abanoc, and here I thought you drew inspiration from uh… Ohannekeloi!”
Karamir shook his head. “I’ve never encountered Ohannakeloi, but I know quite a few gods made structures like this,” he said, before deciding to change the subject. “It’s not the only thing I built. The settlement… it’s done.”
Her eyes went wide. ”Truly? That’s… That’s wonderful Karamir!” she said excitedly.
Nearby, Karlyn nodded. “Yes. I walked the streets myself, and I have to say, it’s quite possibly the most eerie place I’ve ever seen. It’s so empty,” he said with a frown, before twisting it into a smirk. “Which is why we ought to get some people there before the wolves move in instead.”
”Then now comes the hard part.” she sighed. ”Who will go, and who will stay? It seems, we are about to find out.” she mused.
Karamir nodded. “Yes,” he said quietly. “Have you already spoken to anyone about this?”
"Only a vague mention, here and there. I did not want to say more, for fear something would delay you." she said softly. "I'm sure most will be receptive, we'll just have to see."
Karamir placed a hand on Arya’s shoulder and gently squeezed. “Let’s go, then,” he said, before levitating off the ship and onto the ground, while Karlyn descended the stairs and approached the ladder.
She watched for a moment, hesitant but eventually followed after Karamir. Heart weighing heavy with anticipation.
The denizens of the Eye were assembled in the village center later that evening, once they had finished their work in the fields as well as other activities. The Vallamir had been astonished to see one of their race who was a stranger to them, dressed in the pelts of an animal from another continent, and rumours had already begun to spread about his presence here.
“I understand I haven’t known you all very long,” Karamir began, addressing them from atop a roof, “but I have an announcement to make. I know you’ve heard rumours, and it’s time to put them to rest.”
“I told you all of the existence of mana, and then I left without explanation. While I was away, I consulted Abanoc, the God of Recording, who gave me new knowledge. Using that and my own judgement, I journeyed to the north, to my homeland of Kalgrun. There, with the aid of Ashalla the Ocean Goddess, she and I built a settlement far larger than this one. It has strong walls to keep out foes, powerful guardians to help protect it, and vast lands to explore and grow food in. There is enough space for all of you, and more.”
He pulled raw mana from the air, condensing it so that all could see, and then shaped it into a golden image of what he had built - with its walls and its tower and its temple, and a building Arya might find vaguely familiar overlooking it all. After a few moments passed he carefully dispersed it.
“I can offer a place for all of you there, if you want it. Not only will you be protected, but you will meet new people - not just Vallamir, but the rest of the peaceful races too - who you can build a community with, exchange knowledge and ideas, and work to support each other in times of need. I know it’s a lot to ask, for you to leave what you’ve built here behind, but your children and your children’s children will be better off for it.”
“So…” he concluded, allowing his words to sink in, “who is in favour?”
Arya gave him a side glance and stepped forward. "What Karamir means to say, is that no one needs to make a decision right now. Take your time this day to think it over and the day after next, those that want to leave, will go. I am in favor of this decision and I will be accompanying Karamir there as well. This does not mean I will be abandoning Nebulan, however. I will have to ensure this place is protected, for those that want to stay." she said, stepping back. The crowd immediately began to talk and questions were answered to the best of their ability. All in all the sun began to set when the last Nebulites strolled away. Many seemed interested in going from what they could gather, but some did it show any interest at all. They would have to see who joined them.
Once it was over, Karamir turned to face Arya, appearing somewhat dejected. “You were right,” he said quietly. “I couldn’t sway all of them.”
She smiled softly. "It's okay. This place… It's where they were born. Some never want to leave their homes to go out into the unknown, but those that do, risk everything for a chance at something new. Something better. Do not be sad, be happy that you tried. Some will go, I know it." she said.
Karamir returned the smile, and took her hands in his own.
The next day Arya ventured to the home of her father, leaving Karamir to his own devices on his ship. So far, all the Mir had gathered their belongings, and had chosen to leave Nebulan. She knew they would not be the only ones, but first, she needed to see what her family was planning. Orvus had built this place, most of it, from his bare hands ages ago and it would not surprise her in any way if he wanted to remain behind. But she needed to see what he would say, anyways.
She walked up the steps of the old porch, and without knocking, opened the door. She was greeted by Ellowyn, now a toddler, who came running up giggling as children do when they are in a good mood that was. She smiled and picked up the small Nebulite child, a feeling of warm entering her chest as the small girl cooed softly. She walked into the dining room a moment later, to see the others sitting about. Rowan, Orvus, Ava, Lily and Ciellion sat around the dining table, while Doron, Phoset and Andromeda sat on the floor, mingling with themselves. All of them were in their human forms, save the children.
She was happy with Phoset and Andromeda’s progress, they had come a long way from when they first arrived, scared out of their minds. They still displayed some worrying personality issues, but that was to be expected as well. They would still not tell anyone what they had seen at her sister’s hands, but perhaps one day.
She gave Ellowyn to Ava with a smile, who immediately squirmed her way to the floor and ran off to the other children. Rowan was the first to speak to her as she sat down. ”Arya, welcome dear, can I get you anything?”
”No, but thank you.” she said kindly, offering a smile. Rowan nodded as silence came over the table, with only the occasional whispers of the children being heard.
She sighed and looked at Orvus. ”I didn’t say anything about what Karamir planned, because I did not know when he would return, or if he would do it.” she waited for a response, but when none came except stares, she continued. ”So, I know it’s a lot to ask suddenly, but… Will you join us?”
Ava and Lily shared looks, and Ciellon stared at the table. Only Rowan offered a small smile. Then Orvus spoke. ”We’ve been discussing what to do since last night, my dear. I believe we’ve all come to the same understanding. The same conclusion, I might add.” he paused. ”We will go.” he said at last.
Arya sat a little straighter as she blinked. She had not been expecting it to be that easy. ”I… You will?”
”Yes. This place, it is a home, our home. Birthplace of the Nebulite people, my safe heaven for eons, but it is no longer so safe as it once was. It is only a matter of time before a new threat comes, and even you, cannot be in two places at once, unless you create an Avatar that is. But what’s to say, if Laurien returns and you are not here? I fear for my family, for my people Arya. There is safety in numbers, my dear, and if what Karamir has promised is true, we will be much safer there.” he looked to the children. ”I do not know what I would do, what I would become, if something happened to them.” he said, voice soft. Rowan put a hand on his, and he looked to his wife and smiled before looking back at Arya again.
”Besides, it might be nice to see another part of the world. I was banned from Kalgrun, you know, but I think my new existence will allow me to fit in more naturally and I promised an old friend that I wouldn’t sit around here forever.” he said with a chuckle.
Arya couldn’t help but smile as she looked to the twins. ”Are you sure?” she asked.
Lily shrugged as Ava nodded. Lily then said, “Well you know, like what dad said, change of scenery and all that.”
“I think it will be wonderful, an entire new world practically!” Ava said excitedly, before squeezing Ciellon’s hand. He looked up with a small smile before looking at Arya with determination in his eyes. ”I know this might sound silly…” Rowan began, ”But as long as we are all together… That’s home enough for me.” she said with a beaming smile.
Arya clasped her hands together over her heart and her heart was full.
In the end, what remained of the Nebulite people upon Nebulan, decided to embark upon the journey to Kalgrun. Only a few dozen would stay behind. Their reasons ranged from fear of the unknown, to being unable to leave behind the homes they built. They would stand the test of time, or they would falter and fail. They were gifted with everything Nebulan had to offer, or what would remain behind.
Upon the day of departure, Arya stood with Orvus on the deck, overlooking the Marble Star and the homes he had built so long ago. He did not shed a tear, nor did he say a word, but after a long moment of thought, he patted Arya on the shoulder. A look of pride in his eyes, and he made his way off. It left her feeling good, the problems they faced in the past now almost a distant memory.
Karamir nudged his way through the crowded deck, sparing only a moment to glance out toward a colossal black griffin in the distance. He had ordered Shynir to follow him here, and to only reveal herself on the day after his announcement. His ship was not large enough to carry all the Nebulites; only a few hundred at a time. Thus, multiple trips were needed, which meant those who remained behind would need a protector.
Shynir had not been happy about it. She possessed no love for Orvus or his creations. Yet she had been created by Kalmar, Kalmar and Orvus had reconciled, and Kalmar’s heir had made the request, so she grudgingly obeyed. Of all Karamir’s animalistic siblings, only Gorm had been receptive toward the idea, but Karamir believed the other two would come around.
He climbed the stairs up to the helm, and took his place at the wheel, with Karlyn standing nonchalantly by his side. They exchanged a knowing look - Karlyn had, after all, helped him come up with the speech he used to convince the Nebulite people.
Once more Karamir’s eyes scanned across the deck, finding Arya’s, and then he beckoned for her to come join him.
She strolled over with curious eyes, and came to a stop before him. ”Yesss?” she said with a smirk.
Karamir returned the smirk and pulled her in for a short, light kiss. “Is everyone ready to set out?” he asked as he pulled away.
She nodded with a slight giggle. "All who are aboard are ready to embark this round."
“Good,” he said, and then turned to address those still on deck. “We’re going to depart now. I’ve modified this ship so that no matter what speed or angle we’re travelling at, you’ll always keep your footing, even if we’re upside down.”
“You’ll still fall if you jump over the railing though, so don’t do that,” Karlyn added cheerfully. Arya heard Myra laugh from somewhere on deck.
And on that note, Karamir gripped the wheel, and the ship slowly began to rise up into the air. Once it was above the treeline, he turned it northward, toward Kalgrun. And then suddenly it jolted forward, the ground beneath them becoming a blur. Despite the intense speed, those on deck would barely feel any momentum at all.
They had passed ocean, tropics, temperate forest, and grassy fields. It was the first time Arya had been to Kalgrun, ever since she first departed it with Arryn, all those years ago. Arryn himself was perched on the rail, staring at the landscape as it passed by. The familiar sights had raised his spirits greatly.
Scars from the Catacylsm and the Gate Lord’s attack still remained, but had mostly healed - not that the mortals onboard would have been able to notice anyway, given how fast they were travelling. The vessel’s flight had received mixed reactions - some were excited, while others were terrified, or had been shocked into a numb sort of silence.
Karlyn spent most of his time walking the deck and engaging with the latter two, assuring them that he was just an ordinary mortal like them, and had made this trip before. At some point Myra had decided to follow him, to hope that the presence of a familiar face would make Karlyn’s words more reassuring.
After nearly two days of travel, Karamir’s vessel began to slow down, before eventually coming to a halt. Karamir turned the wheel, pointing the vessel westward.
“If you look to the right, you’ll see our destination,” Karamir said with a smile.
Those on deck quickly made their way to the right hand side of the ship. There, far off in the distance and on the other side of a vast river, was the city he had spoken of. It was surrounded by a tall stone wall, and within that wall were hundreds of buildings - the most prominent of which were a massive stone tower, a temple in the sea, and a large white palace overlooking it all from atop the city’s largest and only hill.
There were many exciting states and long sights of exasperation. Arya herself stared awed at the sight, along with the rest of her immediate kin. She floated over to Karamir and with glee in her voice said, "It's beautiful Karamir. It's hard to believe that you were able to build something in such a small amount of time!"
“Ashalla did most of the work,” Karamir admitted, his cheeks reddening slightly. “And the knowledge Abanoc gave me helped too. But I was the one who planned the layout. I built the wall and the three largest buildings. The first two took a few hours, but that one,” he pointed to the palace atop the hill, and his voice took up a note of pride, “took much longer. I had to gather the right materials together and I wanted it to be perfect.”
Her brow raised slightly before she followed his gaze. "What for?" she asked.
“For you,” he answered, before his cheeks reddened further.
She looked back at him with wide eyes. "You didn't…" she started, her expression changing to that of joy. "You didn't!" she laughed, playfully pushing him. "You built that palace for me?" she gushed, whispering slightly.
“I-I did,” he stammered. “I thought you’d like it.”
She took one of his hands within both of hers and said, "I do, Karamir. It is not often I am given gifts. But before I can really say anymore, I have to see it up close." she said smiling.
Karamir blinked, then seemed to snap out of his nervousness. “Of course. I didn’t build it just so we can stare at it from afar.”
And with those words, he resumed his place at the wheel, and the ship began its approach toward their new home.
Karamir arrives back at The Eye on his new ship. He tells her he built a city and the time is now to go to it. After a speech and a conversation with Orvus and the rest of her family, Arya and most of the Nebulites decide to go with. Karamir also built Arya a palace to live in.
Karamir Beginning MP: 8 Beginning FP: 8 -1MP to modify his ship so that mortals will not be affected by its momentum while in flight. Ending MP: 7 Ending FP: 8
Before departing the Kick, Karamir had decided to pay his respects to an old friend…
And so he found himself flying into the mists of the Feasting Forest. Although he was above the treeline, the fog made navigation difficult, and he soon realized this was an utterly stupid idea. He had no reliable way of finding the destination he sought, so he had instead resolved to carry on. Eventually he would fly all the way through the Forest, and out the other end. Besides, he could always find some other way to contact…
A large shape came into view, mostly obscured by the fog, and just barely visible. His eyes widened, and he willed the ship to a sudden halt. “Shit…” he gasped, his hands shaking somewhat as he pulled them from the wheel.
It was the Official Pagoda, he had realized. And the bow of his ship had been mere inches away from colliding with it. A startled- presumably- Lanternhead on the balcony made what might have been eye contact, then ‘back up’ motions with its hands. Awkwardly, he placed his hands back on the wheel, and slowly began to reverse the large metal vessel.
Backpedaling awkwardly through the cloud bank seemed to shove a clear gash into the fog, revealing gardens that were still familiar after their endless remodelling. Something like a swarm of fruit flies was clustering around the winged ship’s hull, carrying dots of light, sounding like a metallic beehive.
Chopstick Eyes stood on a motionless kite, her fingertips on her temples, her eyes wide enough to provide for an entire sushi festival.
Karamir released his grip on the wheel, looked toward her, and then slowly waved. “Hello?” he greeted her in a tentative voice, before his gaze briefly snapped to the building he had almost collided with. “Um… sorry about that. The fog makes it hard to see.”
The goddess exhaled a very large breath. Her fingers made pinched gestures. “Have you considered...” Then pointed up. “Flying above the cloud?”
“That would probably be safer,” Karamir acknowledged, and then bowed his head slightly. “Again, I am sorry.”
“It’s fine. You could’ve made a real dent in… whatever that thing is. Big metal bird? So long as you don’t come around from the other side, that’s where the generator kites...” She shrugged a big ‘oh well’, and all was forgiven. “Meet you on the top floor! You can have the proper view.”
Again Karamir gripped the wheel, and again the ship moved, although this time instead of going forward or backward, it rose.
Once the fog was cleared, the staggering height of the Abacadarium made itself known. It was as if all the landmarks that should have occupied this region had been conglomerated into one, leaving the forest barren of navigational aid elsewhere, and comically well-marked in this one spot. It was busier than Karamir remembered, with swarms of incoming and outgoing Spitfires dancing around, and a whole new array of big kites somewhere to the left. After a few seconds, Chopstick clambered up onto the viewing gallery, huffing. “...Stairs. Damn, Karamir! You’re doing well for yourself! Look at this thing!” She made big gestures to the vehicle. “That thing’s a- Hatchling transistor? How do you say it. A chick magnet!”
Karamir had no idea what a magnet was, so he simply shrugged in response. “I think it’s called a ship,” he said. “I haven’t given it an actual name yet. I didn’t build it alone, though - Abanoc helped me.”
Choppy started to bubble some speech and stalled halfway. “...Abanoc helped you? Not Shengshi? Abanoc?” Her sticks focused. “It is less fancy than Shengshi’s. More sporty. Abanoc, huh… East of here?”
Karamir nodded. “There’s a platform with a book on top of it. That leads to his sphere.” Chopstick tapped her scarred lips with a finger.
“That… checks out. I hadn’t been… Hm.” She waved a dangly arm and a pumpkin-headed robe turned to her. “Gourdface, compile everything we have about that one place that sees the stars. As for you-” She waved her other arms. “This thing is, very clearly, the Humungus Karamirific Aero-Megambulator.”
“The Megambulator… that works,” Karamir said with a smile. He stepped away from the wheel, and flew over to the balcony on which Chopstick Eyes stood, landing next to her, or maybe crashing into her. It was hard to tell given how soon he was hugged.
“Karamir! Long time. You smell… Bigger. You have a big smell.” And like Abanoc. She filed that scent away in her messy dorm room floor of a brain, and didn’t try to categorise the others. Rain, sea, wet dog, the unnamable sensation of being whole but for one thing… the usual travel smells.
Karamir lightly hugged her back. “Well… I did recently become a demi-god...” he revealed.
Chopstick stared, cocked her head slightly. “Is that like a demi-glace?”
Karamir blinked in confusion. “Uh… I don’t think so? It means… that I’m a lesser god, basically. I can create things, but I’m not as powerful as the original ones. I need to claim Kalmar’s sphere if I am to become a full god.”
“Ah, an heir. Got it. That sounds like some magical, heavenly bullspit.” She tapped the side of her head and thought herself awfully clever for making the connection. “Can’t much help ya, but if anyone tries to tax the bequest, leave them to me. I’m sure I can find some loopholes on the estate.”
“Well… thank you for offering,” Karamir said, unsure of how anyone could tax anything in this context. “So um… you are aware that Kalmar is dead?”
A shrug. “I am now, I guess. I dunno, I never met the guy. The clone told me a bit about him.” She softened. “I hope it wasn’t bad, or anything. He sounded like a really nice dude.”
Karamir nodded solemnly. “It was bad,” he said grimly. “But it was also what he chose. Do you remember that incident not too long ago? Where all those meteors began to fall from the sky? Kalmar put a stop to that. He fought the creature responsible for it, and it wounded him. In the end, he decided to let himself die so he could pass his godhood onto me.”
Chopstick held a knuckle under her chin for a fair while. “...I think I owe you. As his heir. The shit that came here, the rot… It’s hard to see through the clouds, but there’s still a meteor on yon hill that I had to bat off, and the lamps are still hunting monsters in the south. It was fun, but I guess I didn’t take the worst of it. Haha...” she trailed off.
“A lot of people suffered,” Karamir said. “I can tell you the full story, if you have time.”
“I love stories! Let’s sit somewhere nice, I want to see your metal bird. Gourdy! Bring pillows and send for Streetbulb.” Chopstick clapped her hands, and the gourd-faced lanternhead, who had only just finished making it up the stairs, paused for a second, then slowly turned and went back down.
The ‘Megambulator’ was unfurnished, so Karamir more or less chose a room at random, where they sat on the large, glossy silk pillow lugged out with some difficulty by ‘Gourdy.’ Streetbulb, a frail-looking thing with a shaded glass orb for a head, stood in the corner with an easel. Karamir looked somewhat uncomfortable as he began to retell the familiar story.
He began with the story of Orvus, and how the God of Desolation had created two daughters: Arya and Laurien. Laurien had fallen in love with a woman named Silver, but Silver was a fragment of the Goddess Li’Kalla, and Orvus had needed to kill her in order to see Li’Kalla restored. In retaliation, Laurien tried to kill Orvus.
But her actions awoke a creature within Orvus, named Abraxus, who took Orvus prisoner. Instead of warning anyone about this new threat, and afraid that she would be discovered, Laurien took half her people and fled to the Dragon’s Foot, abandoning Arya and all the rest. Choppy perked up at the name, putting threads between threads in the ever half-finished tapestry of her memory. Laurien settled in the desert, and somehow, they built a city.
A city named Laurienna, thought Chopstick, with more starry people, and burning hair.
“Ten years later, I came across that city - it was shortly after I left you, actually. Laurien welcomed me in, but there were signs that not everything was right; I was just too naive to see them. Eventually I learned that there was some sort of power struggle there: the people were oppressed, and they kept rising up in an attempt to overthrow their leaders. People died on both sides every time they tried.”
Streetbulb’s soft, distant scratchings at his easel paused, and he turned a new page.
“I thought this was unnecessary, so I asked if there was another way to stop it. Laurien insisted there was no other way, but I doubted that. I suggested going to Abanoc - he sees everything, so he might know something that she didn’t, and that might have a solution. But Laurien was afraid that in going to him, I would discover what had happened with Orvus and Abraxus… so she tried to have me killed.”
He lifted his shirt to reveal the scar where he had been stabbed. “They almost succeeded. But when I refused to die, Laurien instead chose to decay my soul.”
“Oh jeez,” Chopstick knew what kind of thing left god-scars by now, or special-mortal-scars. “That got kind of intense fast.”
”I managed to escape, and my cloak carried me to safety… to the Eye of Desolation, where Arya lived, and where Kalmar’s Avatar - the one who made the cloak - had been visiting.”
Chopstick wondered if Penelope was still there. It didn’t sound like a nice place for her.
“While I was unconscious, the meteors began to fall. Abraxus was trying to destroy the world. Kalmar went to stop it. He fought Abraxus off, then freed Orvus and put a stop to it, only for Abraxus to return and catch him off guard. Arae and Ashalla intervened, but it was too late - he was already wounded. Orvus gave up his divinity to weaken Abraxus, and Ashalla killed it.”
“Meanwhile, I had awoken from my injuries - Shengshi had healed me, at some point. But I had lost much of my memory, and my personality was… different. Arya was trying to help me remember things, but we were interrupted. A creature named Vrog came to the island, and he brought an army of monsters. He threatened Arya to get information, fought her, cursed her, and nearly killed her.”
Both Gourdface and Streetbulb turned their heads very slightly to Chopstick, who did not return their looks, nor move any other muscle that mattered. Her cheek twitched.
“But Abanoc intervened, and convinced Vrog to leave - but he still left his beasts behind, who went on to kill many of Arya’s people. Abanoc then fixed my soul and left. Not too long after, Kalmar was brought to me… wounded and dying. Instead of finding some way to save himself, he decided to allow himself to die, by passing his godhood onto me.”
Karamir shrugged wearily. “And that’s how it happened,” he concluded.
Chopstick’s fingertips had gone to her forehead, and she was resting her oversized head against them, feeling heavy in the pillow. She pulled out one of her sticks and threw it at Streetbulb. It pinned itself to his robe, and she could still see a little from it, looking at sketches on his easel.
The scenes of Karamir’s story were preserved as he had told them, last touches still falling onto paper like leaves in the autumn. Karamir strode through the world in a string of his familiar poses, patient and strong and ever watching a world he did not fully know, falling and thrown into strange cities and distant islands. They were cities drawn by a creature who had never seen cities, and people drawn by a being who had known a very different people. Everything was somehow lantern-ish, from the loosely candle-like visage of Arya and Laurien to the muted rays of the sun, and the texture of skin and god-might and lines of motion and sound was drawn like folds of fabric flying about in the wind. Laurienna resembled a collection of very small Abacadariums. The gods all looked rather much like Karamir or Chopstick or both, except for Vrog, who was depicted perfectly. Karamir’s eyes narrowed. Chopstick still did not look up.
“...Is Arya still… in the Eye of Desolation? Do you think she’ll be alright?”
The mention of Arya brought his attention back. “She is,” he nodded. “But I’m sure she’ll contact me if anything goes wrong, and we have a way to recognize each other if Laurien tries to impersonate either of us again. Though… I do admit I am still worried.”
Chopstick tapped her foot on the floor. “...Yeah. Arya’s sister, she’s hard to tell apart from people? How do you do it?” Another question bubbled. “How do you think she can reach you? I’d… like to know.”
“Well, the knife you gave Kalmar - he passed it on to me. If I decide to teleport it to Arya, and it doesn’t show up in her hand, then I know the one I’m talking to is an imposter,” Karamir explained. “I can contact the real one through prayer, since we’re both demi-gods. It’s… not ideal, but I have a plan that might bring us both together.”
Chopstick pushed a very difficult smile through closed lips. “Mmm! Very not ideal. Mm.” Could gods pray? Maybe she could recognise Arya by smell. Maybe she needed to go travelling east as soon as possible. “Is the plan a secret plan?”
He shook his head. “Not particularly. I did some thinking, and I realized there was a pretty big problem with this world: all the people, they’re spread too far apart. They have all these different ideas and concepts. If I get them in one place, they can share those ideas with each other, and they can work to protect each other. So, I’m going to build a city. Not like Laurienna, or that place Li’Kalla’s followers built - I’m not going to make the same mistakes they did. I’ll do better, and then I’ll bring people to live there.”
This was an excellent idea! Chopstick forgot the bulk of her concerns immediately.
“Oh wow! Do you think you have a location for them yet? Make it big! Then we get you and Arya and V- and all the other cool interesting people all in one place and have a party. And I can finally meet all these interesting people!” It would do her clone some good to sit still here and mind the office for once, too. Karamir seemed like a responsible guy, he could probably pull it off, like he did the moving sky house. “Does Arya know?”
“She knows,” Karamir said, before his expression became troubled. “Although… she doesn’t know if she wants to go, yet. She’s worried some of her people won’t want to leave the Eye, and if she leaves them behind they won’t have any protection. I can only hope that I can convince all of them… or that she decides to go anyway, though…” his voice trailed off.
Chopstick waved a hand. “She’s not their babysitter, is she? If a few of ‘em don’t wanna come, they can handle themselves. And if they can’t handle themselves, I can put them on a private security contract. Arya sounds like she’s doing pretty well for herself, she can afford it.” Shrug shrug. “She should at least visit, give the place a look once you’ve done it up, make up her mind better. Phase one, huh?”
He nodded slowly. “I’m sure she’ll visit, at least. I hope. You’re welcome to come by too, after it’s been built.”
A nod. “I will, if I can… get the paperwork. You’ll have to tell me where unless you want to take me blindfolded, though.”
“On the plains of Kalgrun, where the largest river spills into the sea,” Karamir answered, and Choppy thought, Shengshi!. “I’ll let you know if I change my mind.”
“Or don’t, I’ll puzzle it out,” said Chopstick, poking her tongue out. “Does this place have a kitchen? The boat.”
He shook his head. “It doesn’t even have furniture,” he admitted.
“I’ll fix that. You’ll be transporting mortals soon, they’ll need to eat,” said Chopstick, putting on the chef’s hat that emerged from her pocket, its puffy white peak scraping the ceiling.
And she did.
Karamir takes his airship across the Kick and decides to pay another visit to Choppy’s headquarters on the way. Navigating the foggy Feasting Forest is difficult even airborne, and he finds his way to the Abacadarium by nearly bouncing his boat off it.
Alpha Choppy greets him warmly, noticing but not recognising the scent of other gods on him, and his demi-godhood, which he explains. They discuss the airship, which is nicknamed the Megambulator, but the origin and nature of Karamir’s divinity bears more explaining. They sit down on board to go through the recent history of Kalmar’s death, Abraxus and his role in the meteors and chaos of recent memory, Karamir’s adventures in Laurienna, his later injuries and interactions with Arya, Vrog and Abanoc. Some Lanternheads record the story.
Karamir shares how he plans to discern between Arya and her sister and Chopstick is uneasy with the idea of impersonations.
He also shares his plans for a great city on the coast of Kalgrun. Chopstick is thrilled by the idea and wants Arya to join in, her people on the Eye of Desolation be damned, but can’t herself visit unless someone else is taking care of the office.
Choppy spends 1 Might outfitting the Megambulator for an infinite buffet for a potential human crew and passengers.
It had taken some practice, but soon Karamir had been able to master the piloting of his vessel, and had glided gracefully through the sky, all the way from the Kick to Kalgrun. As the coast came into view, he turned his ship and veered north. He saw various tribes and villages situated along the coast, the inhabitants looking at his vehicle in wonder. He waved to them, though they could not see it.
He passed Li'Kalla's bridge, now clear of remains. He had told his people what awaited them on the other end, and it had been more than enough to dissuade them from making any further attempts to cross it. He considered destroying the bridge altogether, but then decided that the wrath of the Rain Goddess might do more harm to his people than a mere bridge they already knew not to cross.
Further north he went, until he finally reached the destination he had in mind. The Donghe, the Easthe, the Nuhe... all silly names. Why did the gods feud over such trivial matters? Anyhow, the name was of little importance.
The spot he had chosen was where the Straight River met the sea. Abanoc had bestowed upon him the knowledge of boats and ships, and thus he knew the value of seafaring technology - when mortals could actually reach that point, of course. And besides, the river itself would be a vital source of freshwater.
He set the airship down atop a hill which overlooked the river. The wings lowered to the ground, serving as ramps which one could use to walk off. Of course, Karamir himself had no need for that; he simply vaulted over the railing and landed on his feet.
He took a few steps forward and knelt, surveying the flat stretch of land before him on which he was to begin building. Then, he drew his dagger, once again morphed it into a stick, and began to draw in the dirt.
His hands were almost a blur, and he sometimes had to scratch out progress just as quickly as he made it, as he began the meticulous process of planning the settlement’s layout. He couldn’t just place buildings down at random - that would turn the city into a maze. And due to past experience, Karamir was no fan of mazes.
Hours passed as he thought carefully of how he was to proceed. Until finally he finished. He settled on a workable grid system that was fairly easy to navigate, provided one knew about it in advance, which would not be too difficult to learn. The streets and pathways were fairly wide, with enough space for the carts and caravans he had visions of. He stepped away from the crude plan and then once more gazed out at the field.
Where to begin?
Steeling himself, he got to work.
He had begun by raising a wall around the area in which the settlement would be built. He had considered the possibility that the wall might be attacked and had planned accordingly; creating ramparts the defenders could hide behind, machicolations which would allow them to shoot any attackers who thought they could use the wall for cover as well, and evenly spaced towers at regular integrals. It would do little to deter flying enemies, however. There were two gates; one in the southwest near the river, and one in the northeast near the ocean.
That work on its own had been exhausting, lasting well into the night. In the morning he was exhausted, and sat on the beach breathing heavily with waves lapping nearby.
One wave, slightly larger than the others, made it all the way up to Karamir’s feet and licked against them. Yet rather than roll away and recede back into the ocean this wave stopped in place as it touched Karamir. Bubbles fizzed briefly through the water and formed a surprised word. “Kalmar?”
That surprised him, but only for a moment. He rose to his feet, gazing out at the water. “No,” he replied. “Kalmar is dead.”
The water rose up as Karamir did, coalescing into the form of a woman twice as tall as Karamir. “Then you are his successor.”
“I am,” he nodded. “Are you Ashalla?”
“I am. Who are you?”
“Karamir. The first Vallamir.”
“Ah, Kalmar told me of you,” Ashalla said. She quickly glanced around, as though checking they were alone, before flowing slightly closer to Karamir. “How did you acquire Kalmar’s divinity?”
“He gave it to me before he died,” Karamir answered.
“Was not Arae able to heal him?”
Karamir shook his head. “No. There might have been other ways to save him, but… he decided he’d rather pass his power on.”
The ocean was still for a moment. “Another…” Ashalla whispered distantly, like a soft breeze. Ashalla then looked back down at Karamir. “Have you claimed dominion over hunting or cold as Kalmar did?”
He paused, and then shook his head. “No, I have not. I have claimed mana.”
Ashalla rumbled for a few moments. “Well, welcome to the pantheon, Karamir. Remember your station as a divine being.”
Karamir was about to say something, but then he furrowed his brow, as a new thought suddenly occurred to him. “What can you tell me of your interactions with Kalmar?” he asked instead, in a voice that might have been suspicion.
“They were friendly. Kalmar, Phystene and I made a pact to protect each other’s creations from senseless destruction. Kalmar has personally shown me about his continent. The last time I saw him, Arae and I found Kalmar near death at Abraxas’ hand when we went to Veradax during the moon-fall, where I battled and killed Abraxas.”
“I see. Sorry if this comes across as… rude… but recently I encountered someone who changed her form in order to deceive me, and I have reason to believe she might try to do so again. Though… I don’t know if…” he then squinted, appearing to study her form more closely. “Sorry, nevermind.”
Ashalla huffed. “Such deception is unbecoming of gods. Who attempted this deception?”
“Her name is Laurien,” Karamir answered gravely.
The water’s surface seethed. “The blasphemer! Has she too obtained divinity?”
Karamir’s eyes widened slightly. “She has. I’m not the only one who ascended. While Kalmar passed his divinity onto me, I think that Orvus’s divinity somehow ended up passing on to Arya and Laurien,” he said, and then there was a brief flicker of alarm on his face. “But Arya isn’t like her sister. She’s good, and she’s kind, and…” his voice trailed off.
Ashalla rumbled for a few moments. “So that’s where Orvus’ divinity went, to his offspring. What do Arya and Laurien claim dominion over?”
“I… don’t know, exactly. Arya seems to radiate kindness and calmness, but for Laurien… whatever it is, it can’t be good.”
Ashalla huffed. She then lifted her gaze to the structure behind Karamir. “What is this you are building?”
“A community,” Karamir answered. “Where mortals can live together, share ideas, and protect each other. Hopefully in peace.”
Ashalla flowed up the beach and past Karamir. She stretched up and looked around at the walls bounding this patch of land. “Where are the mortals?”
“Not here yet,” Karamir answered, looking back at the empty expanse. “I still need to build shelters for them to live in. And a way to feed a population of this size - the Nebulites of the Eye of Desolation have a way, and I’ll need to invite them here so they can set it up. First it needs buildings, but creating structures…” he took a deep breath, “is quite taxing.”
Ashalla rumbled as she circled the wall. A pseudopod split off to investigate Karamir’s airship simultaneously. “Taxing for a little godling such as yourself, perhaps,” Ashalla said. She completed her circuit and returned to Karamir. “The aid of a more powerful deity would be beneficial to such a community. And I am already recognised by Vallamir in this region.”
“Any aid you are willing to provide would be appreciated,” Karamir nodded, somewhat surprised by the offer.
“I would request something in return, though,” Ashalla added.
“What would that be?”
“In the city of nebulites on the Taipang Delta there is a temple dedicated to Shengshi. I want a temple in this city dedicated to myself as a perpetual sign of my aid and influence.”
Karamir hesitated. “I’ve been to that city,” he said. “Laurien was one of its leaders - before she became a demigod. Most of their people were forced to live in filth, and anyone who objected, or asked too many questions, they tried to kill. She nearly killed me as well.” He sighed. “If you want to be recognized for aiding in this city’s construction, that’s only fair. Just know that I’m trying to avoid making the same mistakes as other civilizations.”
“The status of the nebulite city is irrelevant to my request. I desire a temple,” Ashalla said.
“Very well,” Karamir said with some apprehension, trying to imagine what changes he might have to make to the city’s layout to accommodate this new structure.
Ashalla burbled. Looking at the markings in the dirt she said, “I see you have started planning already.”
He nodded, flying over to where he scrawled his plan in the dirt. “There are going to be three sections,” he said. “The one along the river will have a bridge leading to the other side. The one along the ocean will have a… harbour, or port, I think the word is. A place for vehicles that can cross the water, called ships - Abanoc gave me knowledge of them. The third section is basically the rest of the city, and it’s probably where most of the people will live - it’s closest to the fields where they will need to grow food.”
Ashalla flowed over to the river and entered the water. She grew tall enough to look down upon the entire city, as wide as it was. Dozens of pseudopods rose from the water and stretched across the city, tasting the plots of land and nudging the soil. “Yes, this is good. I can start building by the water. Where shall you build my temple?”
Once again Karamir looked out at the empty space, before setting his gaze east. “Well,” he said. “You are the Goddess of Oceans, aren’t you?”
With those words, he flew down to the beach, staring out at the sea. “Any preferences for what this temple will look like?” he asked.
Ashalla rumbled for a few moments, then answered, “I leave that to your artistry.”
Karamir stood looking at the ocean. After waiting for a few moments, Ashalla turned her attention back to the empty cityscape. Her pseudopods dug into the earth and prepared foundations. The Nuhe began to flow thickly with silt, from which Ashalla filtered out clay. She took this clay and fashioned it into bricks. With a touch she baked the bricks and her many pseudopods started assembling the bricks into houses near the river.
Then it was as if the Nuhe was flowing backwards as a thick black liquid flowed up from the depths of the ocean and up the Nuhe. Ashalla pulled the pitch out of the water and mixed it with some fine mud to create mortar, which she used to bind the bricks together.
Each building was carefully crafted, its architecture and form expressing her artistry. While Ashalla made an effort to ensure consistency in architecture, the floor plans of each building varied substantially. While Ashalla had seen houses and rooms and could deduce requirements for mortal comfort she was not entirely familiar with what made a good home, so she made lots of different houses to experiment.
While she was assembling houses, something else rose up from the depths of the ocean. New pseudopods rose carrying rocks and stones. Ashalla split the rocks into slabs and used them to pave the roads.
There was then a distant rumbling in the ground and the sea rippled. A few seconds later a colossal chunk of granite, larger than the Nuhe was wide, was lifted by a titanic arm of water out of the sea and onto a patch of empty ground south of the city. Giant chisels of ice formed and fell upon the stone, hewing off pieces of rock and carving a form into the granite. When the thunderous work was completed Ashalla had a bridge, carved from a single piece of granite. The bridge was no mere structure but a work of art. Carved along the sides of the bridge were intricate sculptures depicting the natural life of Kalgrun and the sea.
Ashalla dug deep holes at each bank of the Nuhe then drove her sculpted bridge into the holes. The bridge was an arch stretching over the Nuhe, standing tall so as to better allow ships to sail underneath. Ashalla took the off-cuts of granite and the displaced soil and extended the ends of the bridge out and down to the ground like a long ramp. Ashalla then washed over the bridge to clean off dirt and smooth out rough edges.
Sounds then came from the beach to the northeast as Karamir began constructing the temple Ashalla had demanded as a price. A platform of sand and rock rose from the shallows of the sea, forming a small island. And on that island Karamir began to build the temple, dragging more materials from the sea as Ashalla had done, but not as quickly or in such vast amounts. There were several points where he had to pause to regather his strength, but he made progress nonetheless.
He modelled it after the Temple Kalmar had built on the Hunter’s Eye; the one which housed the Oracle. Only instead of the dark grey and black colour scheme that temple possessed, Karamir built this to be a lighter shade of white, with blue carvings of seashells above each pillar. Flanking the entrance on either side were stone statues of fish, and inside the temple itself was a statue of the watery nymph-like form Ashalla had first taken to communicate with him. Finally, he raised a bridge of solid stone to connect the ocean temple to the mainland.
Then, he fell into a sitting position in the sand to recover his strength. As Ashalla’s many pseudopods continued the work of building bricks, houses and roads, she flowed over to the temple. She inspected the building, tendrils of water feeling its sculptures. Ashalla burbled and said to Karamir, “It is lovely.”
Karamir nodded wearily. “The rest of the city… seems to be going well…” he commented.
“Thank you,” Ashalla said. Her pseudopods shifted downstream and started working on buildings closer to the coast. “How many mortals were you planning on bringing here? There is space for many homes within the walls you built.”
“It depends on how many will accept,” Karamir answered truthfully. “But we need more than just homes. Places where people can store goods… spaces where they can meet to exchange them… shared spaces where they can gather for meetings or activities…”
Ashalla rumbled for a few moments. “Yes, those would be beneficial.”
Ashalla’s tendrils continued their busy work. Earth was shifted and stones stacked to create wharves and quays along the river, even out to the delta. Ashalla provided ample space for many ships to dock, sheltered from the open ocean by the mouth of the Nuhe. Ashalla had to do a lot of digging and rearranging of the ground to ensure there were sheltered places, for the Nuhe opened straight into the sea. She also built a few wharves along the coast-line, although she also left some undeveloped beach.
With the wharves built, Ashalla worked inwards. She constructed major roads leading from the wharves and her temple into the heart of the city, as well as from the gates in Karamir’s wall. Storehouses were built near the docks, each given elegant facades and small windows near the top to let light in. Ashalla built more houses as she worked inland. She also built various open spaces. At the intersections of major roads she created open plazas. In some places she built walled squares of open space, suitable for meetings and gatherings. Some places she did not build any structures but left in a natural state. In a few places she constructed auditoriums, where rows of seats curved in front of a stage shaped to carry the sound into the audience.
Parallel to the roads Ashalla constructed ditches. She constructed these ditches such that water would flow to the lower end of the Nuhe and into the sea. The smaller ditches were open to the air, but they fed into larger ditches which Ashalla placed beneath the paving stones of the road. These channels were to carry rainwater and sewage out of the city.
Meanwhile, Karamir had risen back to his feet and flown over to the hill as he began the construction of another building in the city’s northwestern corner. From the ground rose a colossal spire of stone which he quickly hollowed out, giving it windows and stairs. Then he willed furnishings into existence. Considering all that Abanoc and Mnemosyne had done for him, it only seemed fitting that they were acknowledged in some way, so he raised two statues of them on either side of the tower’s entrance.
Then once more he allowed himself to fall to the ground as he watched Ashalla continue her work. Clay continued to flow downstream while pitch and rocks were pulled up from the ocean. Her multitudinous tendrils shaped these materials, stacked them into structures and carved the soil. Ashalla had fallen into a rhythm, with bricks, paving stones and mortar flying through her form in an intricate dance. Such was her focus that she no longer bothered to sustain a humanoid form.
The storm of watery pseudopods, icy tools and flying earth continued to creep deeper into the city limits. The way new buildings were added suggested an almost organic pattern to their growth. Watching Ashalla work was like watching her stitch together a living creature cell by cell, except on a far larger scale. The construction crept forwards like a rising tide, filling in the space between the walls.
As the city neared completion, clouds billowed out from Ashalla and stretched off towards the horizon. In the growing storm the wind was especially intense. From across the countryside plants were uprooted and carried towards the city. Ashalla then planted these plants throughout the city. Flowers, grass, bushes and trees were planted beside streets and in gardens.
“This looks nice,” Karamir commented, as he walked through the freshly created streets. “I’d say it’s almost done.” He shifted his gaze to the north, where a single empty space remained - the hill from which he had first devised his plan.
“Thank you,” said a burbling voice like swirling rivers. The numerous tendrils of water stretching across the city thinned in number as the final streets were constructed. “It has been fun to create. The mortals should like it.”
He nodded. “There’s still one more building I need to create,” he said, still looking at the hill. “It’ll take the most time, but I need to do it myself.”
The last few bricks landed with a clack and the watery tendrils receded into the river and ocean. “Do as you will. My work here is finished for the moment. Call me when you bring mortals here.”
“I will. Thank you for your aid.”
Karamir arrives on Kalgrun and begins planning to build his city. He starts by building a set of medieval style walls, with towers and crenellations and machicolations and all that. Then Ashalla shows up, thinking he is Kalmar, until he corrects her and breaks the news of Kalmar’s death - among other things.
She asks him what he is building, he tells her of his plans to build a city. She offers to help him, on the condition that she gets a massive temple dedicated to her, similar to the agreement between Shengshi and the denizens of Laurienna. Karamir is a bit disturbed by this parallel, but agrees, because he really does need the help.
Anyway, they build the city. While Ashalla builds the three main districts (known as the River District, the Ocean District, and the Grass District respectively), Karamir builds Ashalla’s temple, as well as a gigantic tower which is supposed to be dedicated to Abanoc and Mnemosyne in some way. Ashalla then leaves, and Karamir gets ready to build one final structure.
Karamir Start: 4MP and 8FP Spent: -1FP to build city walls. -1FP to build the Temple of Ashalla. -1FP to build the Tower of Lore. -1FP to build another structure (to be revealed in the future.) End: 4MP and 4FP
Ashalla Start: 5 MP & 7 FP Spent: 1 FP on the River District, notable for its grand bridge sculpted from a single piece of granite. 0 FP on the Oceans District (Oceans Discount), notable for its wharves and docks. 1 FP on the Grass District. All the districts have decent stormwater and sewage systems, due to the Water Cluster. End: 5 MP & 5 FP Portfolios: 8/10 Colour 8/10 Music 4/10 Sculpture
Biography: While dwarves are normally seen as a deeply principled people, no race is without its scoundrels and criminals. Gorim was born a street rat, who as a boy wound up in the service of a dwarven crime lord. He began his criminal career as a pickpocket, but as he grew older he moved on to burglaries, and eventually assassination. The latter he was especially well-suited for, and took a secret joy in.
He became the crime lord's most trusted and efficient agent, and as a reward for his service, a pair of enchanted boots were bestowed upon him: they would allow him to jump to unnatural heights and land safely on his feet. With this gift, his efficiency as a killer only increased, and it was whispered that no target was beyond his reach. Gorim revelled in this reputation, yet despite his infamy, the thought of betraying his boss never crossed his mind. He was happy with his place.
Unfortunately, it was not to last. Gorim's boss was eventually poisoned, and his lieutenants began squabbling amongst each other to replace him. Gorim could have made his own claim, but he had no interest in running a criminal enterprise. Instead he chose one candidate, and personally assassinated all rivals. Yet the candidate he chose was paranoid, and tried to have Gorim killed soon after. The attempt failed, so Gorim killed him in return. The poorer districts of his city soon fell into chaos, becoming a free-for-all between the now leaderless criminals.
It was at this point that Gorim decided it was time to leave the city behind... but not without performing one last act to leave his mark on the city's history. He assassinated the city's ruling lord, sparking a succession crisis, as that lord was the last of his clan. Only then did his home city behind, seeking a new life on the surface.
Life on the surface brought complications, however. Although Gorim had not wished to change his ways, he found that he had to. In a world of humans, dwarves stood out, and so if a dwarf was seen fleeing the scene of the crime, he was a natural suspect. Furthermore, he lacked the protection or connections necessary to reliably find assassination contracts. So, he had to be more careful.
Why have you come to Draydon?: After a long period of travel, Gorim eventually settled in the city of Draydon, where he took to legal work; acting as a mercenary or a private investigator. He considered such work beneath him, however, and couldn't help but occasional revert to his old lifestyle. From time to time he would burglarize a merchant's estate, or murder a particularly sleazy nobleman. He did his utmost to be subtle, as he could not afford to be seen.
Personality Description: Gorim is a man who thoroughly enjoys his work. He takes deep satisfaction from outwitting others. Sneaking past guards, robbing greedy merchants, besting a foe in combat, or killing a supposedly untouchable target. All these things and more bring him an almost giddy sort of joy. Internally, he is in a constant struggle between a need to be cautious and to avoid attracting the law's attention, and a desire to show off his talents and strike fear into the hearts of the city's citizens.
In his everyday life he presents himself as a jovial and generous. He is eager to help those he considers friends, and from time to time he will give a coin to a beggar or buy drinks for strangers at the tavern. He is a friend to the lower classes or to fellow outsiders of the city, and harbours a resentment toward those in positions of authority - especially those who abuse their power. Those of more refined background may view him as ill-mannered and uneducated.
Character Fighting Style: Unlike most dwarves, Gorim relies on agility and dexterity rather than brute strength. Although he generally prefers to remain hidden and strike from the shadows, when he does show himself on the battlefield he is a whirlwind. His stout dwarven stature grants him a lower center of gravity which allows him to nimbly dodge attacks, and his enchanted boots enable him to leap over the heads of his foes with acrobatic proficiency. He is a climber as well, and will often take to rooftops in order to get the drop on his foes.
Primary Armanent: A mithril shortsword. Secondary Armanent: A steel shortsword.
Inventory Items: -An enchanted pair of boots which enable Gorim to jump higher; enough to just barely pass over the head of an average height human. -A concealable blackjack which he uses exclusively for knocking out unsuspecting targets from behind. -A pair of smoke bombs. -A rope with a grappling hook. -A set of lockpicks. -A waterskin.
Member
Lord Zee
Frettzo
Eviledd1984
King of Rats
Vec
Noctis
