Well, as secure as a ring of loose ice, stone, and salt could be, floating in a vast empty void through which any god like himself could freely roam.
But it would do.
He needed a place. A place where there would always be shade against the sun. The sun was his creator's creation, and no doubt one his creator did not wish for him to interfere with. But this was not interference. It was merely a shelter. A shield. One that ultimately only covered a small portion of the world. Besides, there was beauty in darkness. His maker had to understand that. Otherwise there would be two suns, or the world would have been flat.
It was time to get to work.
He shifted into the inky black mass, and then began to expand himself along one section of the ring, filling the gaps in between the chunks. Then, he focused. A wave of black energy shot down the ring, generating a field of darkness down the entire length, and extending a fair bit beyond the ring's actual width as well.
This field served a dual purpose. The first purpose was to serve as a tether between the chunks of the ring, so that they could not be easily ripped away. The second purpose, however...
The second purpose was to serve as a shield against the sun. At night-time, there would be no difference; allowing the moon and the stars to remain visible. When the sun rose over a section of the ring, however, the shield would activate, and blot out its light. The heat and the energy would still be allowed to slip through, so that the vegetation below would not wither and die, but most of the light would be stopped. The sun itself would remain visible, but as a pale orange rather than a bright yellow fire; no brighter than the moon itself. This would in turn allow the stars to remain visible as well.
Constant night. And one that would not be completely without light, nor deprive the world of the sun's heat. Yes, that seemed fair.
"I name this the Black Ring," he announced, to no one in particular.
Satisfied with his work in the sky, Zelios finally descended down to Galbar.
There was other work to be done.
Zelios enchants Galbar's ice/salt/rock ring that has formed along Galbar's equator, and decides to name it the Black Ring. It is basically a ring of a black gas-like substance, with chunks of ice and rock floating in it.
The Black Ring has two functions. The first function is to fix the ring's position in orbit, making it harder to move - naturally or unnaturally. The second function is to serve as a shield - blocking out most of the sun's light until it is no brighter than the moon. It does not block out the lights of the moon or the stars either. However, it doesn't stop heat or energy. This makes it permanent night-mode along Galbar's equator, without any of the drawbacks one would associate with such a state (aside from reduced visibility.)
Satisfied with his work he decides to head on down to Galbar.
Zelios Starting Vigour: 10 -3 (enhanced by Darkness Aspect) to create the Black Ring. See Post Summary for effects. Ending Vigour: 7
While all the other shards dramatically shattered and some even went so far as to damage the palace itself, one was considerably more... subdued.
Instead of shattering into a thousand pieces, or colliding with nearby walls and furniture, the quiet shard hovered in place. For a moment it looked as if it might not crack, as if it was a dud. Then, it began to slowly fill with a peculiar inky blackness, until the entire thing was as dark as an abyss.
Crack!
The surface of the crystal was suddenly marred by a single jagged line; an imperfect crack in what had previously been a smooth surface. Then, black smoke began to pour from the crack. Instead of dispersing to fill the room, as smoke was wont to do, it instead remained concentrated. Instead of rising as high as it could go, it went straight to the floor, and began to accumulate there. Aside from the initial sound of the crack forming, all of this happened soundlessly. The darkness in the crystal, meanwhile, was beginning to drain.
Only when the crystal was empty did the mass of black smoke begin to shrink in on itself, before suddenly stopping as it took on the form of a black silhoeutte; a bipedal form with two arms. Then the blackness shifted once more, as a pair of what could only be wings extended from its back. Seemingly satisfied, the darkness finally began to transform into actual features: short black hair on a handsome pale face. A suit of fine silver armour with blackened trim. The dark mass of wings sprouted shiny black feathers.
The God of Darkness was born.
Turning around, he placed a gentle hand on his still-intact crystal, and slowly it floated down to the ground. Then he turned toward his creator, and approached.
"Rather rude to leave such great messes in your maker's home, is it not?" the God of Darkness asked the gods who were already gathering around the Monarch. Though his smile and the amused tone in his voice made it clear it was not intended as a true reprimand. "Ah, but I'm not one to talk! I haven't even introduced myself yet." He turned to the Monarch and offered a low bow. "I am Zelios," he introduced himself.
Zelios is born. Unlike the other gods he takes care not to have his crystal shatter into a million pieces or damage his surroundings. He takes in the form of a dude in silver armour with black feathery wings. Then he approaches the gods gathering around the Monarch and introduces himself.
Darkness. Traditionally characterized as the absence of light. But there is more to it than that. To some, darkness represents fear; fear of the unseen, and unknown. To others, it represents peace, safety, protection. The God of Darkness has the power to dim or outright banish light, to make it easier for his servants to move unseen, to command the creatures of the night, and to manipulate the very shadows themselves into physical objects that might harm or hinder mortals, be it by sapping their strength, holding them in place, or resorting to a more direct attack.
Persona
Zelios is a surprisingly friendly and affable man, all things considered. While some might assume a god of darkness to be cold, menacing, or secretive, he is anything but. He has his secrets, to be sure, and he is more than capable of appearing threatening when the situation calls for it, but amongst his fellow gods he generally attempts to maintain an air of friendliness.
Zelios holds a particular disdain for tyrants. What he defines as a tyrant is someone in a position of power who abuses that power to impose their will on others who are no threat to them and have not done anything worthy of such a punishment. At the end of the day he usually tends to sympathize with those whose only wish is to be left alone.
When it comes to punishing these so-called tyrants for those actions, Zelios has no preferred method. It usually depends on the circumstance. If the problem is with certain individuals rather than an entire class or system, then he will usually try to air out their crimes and discredit them, or resort to assassination. Even then the manner of the assassination may vary depending on whether or not he wants the death to send a message. However if the issue is systemic, then he will instead resort to more intricate means; usually by identifying people willing to reform the system (or by inspiring them to do so if no such people exist), and doing everything he can to bolster their position so that they might overthrow the system. However, if a society is utterly corrupt, irredeemable, and rotten to the core, with everyone being complicit in it, he may decide that it would be better for the society to be destroyed completely rather than reformed.
When it comes to leading mortals he does not prefer to make grand speeches in public. His preference is to instead meet with leaders in private, or whisper into their ears, or plants thoughts inside their heads. He also likes to act through agents, such as secret cabals of spies and assassins. Not all of his agents act in secret, however; he is more than willing to deploy small elite bands of warriors who can take a more... direct hand in events if necessary.
He likes to see himself as a patron of the downtrodden, but those who misinterpret his nature may instead view him as a patron of schemers, thieves, assassins, and sycophants. But in truth he is willing to accept pretty much any worshiper, so long as they respect him and his values.
Some might argue that Zelios is a tyrant himself. Depending on his mood, he will treat such accusations as if they were either a joke or a grave insult. He is not incapable of self-reflection, and can recognize when he makes mistakes, but to him those mistakes are just that - mistakes. Isolated mistakes which are not a symptom of any deeper character flaw.
True Form
Zelios's true form is a mass of darkness in its purest, densest form. Such a form can take any size, any shape, any state - be it gas, liquid, or solid. It radiates an aura that creatures of the day would find malevolent, and creatures of the night would find comforting or inspiring. Depending on the size it takes, all lights within a certain radius will find themselves dimmed.
The speed and strength of this form directly correlates with the day and night cycle; in the day it is slow and sluggish, while at night is freakishly swift and monstrous even by divine standards.
Creatures of the day who stare deeply into the mass will find their very own perception altered, to be more attuned with the night. They can effectively gain constant night vision, capable of seeing in dark without any aid, but their vision in turn becomes far more sensitive to sources of light; blindingly, and even painfully so. They may find themselves never able to look upon the sun again.
It is a rare day when Zelios invokes this form, however. Most days he prefers to walk in the form of a simple mortal, in black robes or armour, with a raven feather cloak or a pair of black angelic wings.
Darkness. Traditionally characterized as the absence of light. But there is more to it than that. To some, darkness represents fear; fear of the unseen, and unknown. To others, it represents peace, safety, protection. The God of Darkness has the power to dim or outright banish light, to make it easier for his servants to move unseen, to command the creatures of the night, and to manipulate the very shadows themselves into physical objects that might harm or hinder mortals, be it by sapping their strength, holding them in place, or resorting to a more direct attack.
Persona
Zelios is a surprisingly friendly and affable man, all things considered. While some might assume a god of darkness to be cold, menacing, or secretive, he is anything but. He has his secrets, to be sure, and he is more than capable of appearing threatening when the situation calls for it, but amongst his fellow gods he generally attempts to maintain an air of friendliness.
Zelios holds a particular disdain for tyrants. What he defines as a tyrant is someone in a position of power who abuses that power to impose their will on others who are no threat to them and have not done anything worthy of such a punishment. At the end of the day he usually tends to sympathize with those would rather be left alone.
When it comes to leading mortals he does not prefer to make grand speeches in public. His preference is to instead meet with leaders in private, or whisper into their ears, or plants thoughts inside their heads.
He likes to see himself as a patron of the downtrodden, but those who misinterpret his nature may instead view him as a patron of schemers, thieves, assassins, and sycophants. But in truth he is willing to accept pretty much any worshiper, so long as they respect him and his values.
True Form
Zelios's true form is a mass of darkness in its purest, densest form. Such a form can take any size, any shape, any state - be it gas, liquid, or solid. It radiates an aura that creatures of the day would find malevolent, and creatures of the night would find comforting or inspiring. Depending on the size it takes, all lights within a certain radius will find themselves dimmed.
The speed and strength of this form directly correlates with the day and night cycle; in the day it is slow and sluggish, while at night is freakishly swift and monstrous even by divine standards.
Creatures of the day who stare deeply into the mass will find their very own perception altered, to be more attuned with the night. They can effectively gain constant night vision, capable of seeing in dark without any aid, but their vision in turn becomes far more sensitive to sources of light; blindingly, and even painfully so. They may find themselves never able to look upon the sun again.
It is a rare day when Zelios invokes this form, however. Most days he prefers to walk in the form of a simple mortal, in black robes or armour, with a raven feather cloak.
The Surface-Gate of Kral-Norden, built against the side of a small mountain, was a formidable fortress, with tall stone walls, and a deep spiked ditch. The gate itself was impenetrable; it was made of thick wood reinforced with metal and enchantments, with a drawbridge and a portcullis as well. Dwarf-made cannons were mounted on the ramparts, and two banners were displayed proudly on the gatehouse. One was extremely similar in design to the banner of House Chakravarti, while the other was clearly of dwarven style, depicting the grey stone crown of the Clan Underking.
The gates were wide open today. Rarely had there ever been a cause for them to be closed, except at night. The city maintained close relations with the surface, and there had been no major incidents within living human memory. A pair of armoured dwarf guards flanked either side of the gate with arquebuses in hand and poleaxes on their backs, standing almost as still as statues.
A third dwarf stood amongst them, asking questions of those who wished to answer, and recording their answers in a book. If the visitors came with a cart, the two dwarves would stride forward to make a quick search of it. Once satisfied that they carried no contraband, the customs officer would simply ask them to take an oath that they would commit no crime nor harm against the Underking’s subjects while they were within the Underking’s realm. Only when that process was complete would they be allowed through.
In total, it was an immaculate system designed to control the inflow of guests and their role in the underkingdoms. Unfortunately, this only applied to mortality, and in the eyes of the onlooking Beyre -- it would be downright ridiculous to get caught in a queue meant for mortality.
Thinking herself sensible, Beyre quickly adopted a form neither here nor there, an ethereal body. Invisible to the corporeal realm and not bound by physical restrictions, Beyre took it upon herself to not only walk right in, but to pass directly through any mortals she would have had to wait in line behind, as a final sort of snicker at the idea of being stuck in queue.
Content, Beyre passed through the open doors. Within the walls was a small village, where humans and dwarves lived amongst one another. Most of the facilities here were intended either to service the influx of travellers, or the garrison that protected this place. But ultimately there was very little of note. Following the road through the small village, she would eventually come across the true gate, which led into the mountain itself, and from there, down into the depths of the Underkingdom.
Some time later…
For one not used to it, it was a hard journey to descend into the Underkingdom. One had to traverse what felt like hundreds upon hundreds of steps, passing through checkpoints and outposts, all of which were manned by dwarves. Some were friendly, others suspicious, but they allowed all travellers to pass. Fortunately it wasn’t too difficult to navigate - the corridors and stairways were illuminated by glowshrooms and enchanted lights, and in a few cases where the route became more complex than “just keep going down”, there were always signs to point the way.
Eventually she came upon the final door. This door was perhaps the sturdiest of all; it was made of solid metal, at the end of a long wide corridor of arrow slits and murderholes. Any who somehow managed to defy all odds and fight their way down to this point was assured to meet their doom here.
And when she passed through that last door, she finally emerged into the city of Kral-Norden itself. The vast cavern stretched on beyond mortal sight, although her divine senses could see the edges of it easily enough. The buildings were strong and sturdy, some of which extended all the way up to the cavern’s ceiling where they served as both housing and support beam.
There was more than enough light. A massive orange dome was mounted on the ceiling as well, glowing as if it were an artificial sun, and glowshrooms grew out of the cavern’s walls or in pots along the streets.
Sturdy walls separated the various districts - even so deep beneath the earth, behind so many fortresses and chokepoints, the dwarves were still concerned about defense.
At the far end of the cavern was a vast palace of granite and marble. A vast stairway lined with statues led up to its raised entrance, above which was a balcony which overlooked the entire city.
Squinting, Beyre tried her best to make out any holy buildings or places of worship. There were quite a few; ornate and sturdy temples of grey stone, scattered here and there. Standing on either side of the doorways were statues of the Underking Algrim and the Underqueen Arira, and directly above the door was the banner of the Underking Clan.
Picking the closest temple, Beyre took it upon herself to perform an inspection of sorts. Inside, despite its impressive construction, the temple was not particularly busy. Perhaps she had visited during its off hours, or perhaps the dwarfs prefered to honour their gods through crafts and architecture than actual ceremony. Either way, it was mostly empty; a vast stone room with rows upon rows of stone benches, which only a few dwarves sat upon. A robed dwarf priest was sweeping in the corner, although he was no mere civilian - a rather deadly-looking warhammer was hooked to his belt, and it did not appear to be ceremonial.
At the far end of the hall was a black stone altar with gilded edges and unlit silver braziers. Just behind the altar were two statues similar to the ones outside; one of the Underking, and one of the Underqueen. But there were other smaller statues beside them; some of which Beyre would recognize, while others were strangers. Their names, etched into the plinths upon which they stood, were as follows: Yaerna, Uwne, Chakravarti, Lonn.
Beyre knitted her ethereal brow. She ran her fingers across the smooth black altar, fingers passing through as she thought. Turning from the place of worship she called out to the priest, her form suddenly very corporeal.
“How do you honor these names?”
The priest jolted slightly. He had not seen her materialized, but her sudden interjection had nonetheless been unexpected. He was surprisingly young, at least by dwarf standards. His grip tensed on the broom and he looked up at her. Elsewhere in the room, one of the dwarves - an older looking man - muttered about the disrespect of humans; an orange eye glancing at him brieflyk.
Despite this, the priest took the question seriously. “Y’ stand in a Temple of the Pillars, lass,” he said. “Those monuments which ‘old th’ world together. These six are th’ builders and th’ keepers.”
He raised a hand and gestured to the statue of the Underking. “That is th’ Underking,” he said, his tone reverential. “Father and ruler to us all. Th’ pillars were ‘is idea, and ‘e ‘ad a ‘and in creatin’ each ‘un. Next to ‘im is the Underqueen, Keeper of the First Pillar. The Underking took ‘er as a bride, even though she was surfaceborn, and she rules beside ‘im.”
“As for th’ others?” he swept his hand to indicate the other four. “Lonn, Keeper of the Second. Chakravarti, Keeper of the Third, and the Underqueen’s mother. Yaerna, Keeper of the Fourth, and Uwne, Keeper of the Fifth,” he said. “We honour the others by maintainin’ these statues and rememberin’ their names, so that we never forget the duty they ‘ave embraced. Would be a damned rude thing, t’ forget somethin’ like that.”
The other dwarves nodded respectfully, and the priest continued on. “That’s not th’ only role they hold in our ‘earts, o’ course,” he said. “But in th’ context of this temple? That’s why they’re ‘ere. We ‘ave other gods too, who we honour in different ways, in different temples.” The young priest smiled slightly. “Do y’ understand?”
Beyre turned to the statues, pinching her chin in silent contemplation. A pregnant pause lingered between the question and Beyre, her gaze stuck flickering between the names until finally she opened her mouth. “What did they do?” She quickly added, “besides your father.”
The word was accompanied by the goddess’s own eyes lingering a second longer on Lonn’s name.
The priest did not seem to notice. “Before we Underkin walked under th’ land, the earth was unstable. No stability. Constant shakes and tremours. It would have come apart if nobody did anything. So, th’ Underking met th’ other gods ‘un by ‘un, and each ‘un joined their powers with ‘is. They ‘elped ‘im shape the pillars from the earth, an’ through the Underking’s might, they projected an aura of stability.”
“Some o’ these meetings went better than others, o’ course. According to our Prince, Lonn attacked th’ Underking on sight, not knowing who ‘e was. They say the Goddess o’ Families was so smitten by the Underking that she asked for ‘is ‘and, an’ ‘e refused. An’ the goddess Yaerna only agred to ‘elp ‘im after they worked together ta banish a mighty beast,” the Priest recounted. “Th’ meetings with th’ Underqueen and the Craftsman were uneventful, by comparison, but both went well.”
A certain light accompanied Beyre’s green eyes. “I think I understand.” A smile formed. “These subjects of your worship committed a helpful deed to you all, and so as such you honor them, yeah?” Beyre leaned in, studying the priest’s face eagerly.
“That’s aboot right,” the priest nodded. “Though it wasn’t just fer us. It was fer th’ entire world.”
Beyre folded her hands together, her thoughts spinnin quicker than she was listening. “If I did something nice for you, would you all honor my name as well?”
The dwarf priest blinked. “Well that depends on what ye do. Our scribes keep records, t’ honour those friends, allies, and ‘eroes who stand by us in our time o’ need.” He paused. “That is what y’ meant, right?”
“What do you like?” Beyre’s smile was wide and pearly, energy in her green eyes. “Do you like gold?”
The priest chuckled. “There isnae a dwarf alive who doesn’t like gold, ah don’t think. An’ I don’t think any o’ the temples would turn down a donation. Though, it’d take more than a donation or two t’ be honoured as a dwarf-friend. Who would y’ be, anyway? Is this yer first time in a dwarf city?”
Beyre nodded her head, eyes shimmering as they glanced off to nowhere in particular. Her smile turned soft before looking back at the priest. “It sure is! Oh, I’m excited, aren’t you?”
“Well yer not th’ first outsider I’ve spoken to, pretty as ye may be,” the priest said with a slight smirk. Which faded somewhat when the old dwarf shook his head and muttered something about the folly of youth; again a sneaky orange eye glared at him for a moment. The white-bearded dwarf paid her no mind, and instead got up to leave.
The young priest had not noticed the look in her eye, not until the old man had reached the temple door -- which swung wide as he approached. The stiff material of the door slammed into the old man, sending him and a tooth of his to the ground.
“Oh dear!” the old woman who had launched the door open gasped.
The priest rushed over to the old man and helped him to his feet. “Are y’ alright?” he asked, but the old man merely grumbled something unintelligible and stormed out of the building.
“How [color=orange]unlucky[.color],” Beyre said, every bit of her lips curling into a frown, save the very tips. Not wasting any more time on the fuss, Beyre approached the priest once more.
“What else do you like?”
The priest did not reply to her at first. Instead he consoled the old woman who had accidentally knocked the other dwarf over, before directing her to a seat. Only then did he turn to Beyre. “Sorry, lass,” he said. “It’s nice that ye’ve taken an’ interest in our ways - more than most surfacers would - but ah really need t’ get back t’ my duties. Yer welcome t’ stop by later, if ye ‘ave more questions, or yer free t’ take a seat if ye just want t’ think or pray.”
“Wait,” Beyre said with a tense urgency. After she simply stared hard at the priest -- as if she was waiting too.
The priest stared at her for a few moments, his brow furrowed. When it seemed as if nothing would happen, he began to turn away.
Beyre grabbed his shoulders to hold him still. “[green]Wait![/green]”
The priest tensed, and the other dwarves still in the room rose from their seats. “Lass-” the priest began...
Before he could finish, the temple door whooshed open again; but this time a dwarf a shade younger than the priest came huffing through -- face redder than a ruby. He ran right up to the priest, paying no mind to the strange woman holding his shoulders and began to shovel words out between puffs of breath.
“Brother!” His eyes were wide with excitement. “I... whew! I... brother! You won’t believe it!”
Beyre let go of the priest, smiling wide and taking two steps back.
“Bloody ‘ell, what now?” the priest growled, his patience having finally faded. Instead of words, the younger brother simply slapped a yellowed piece of paper to the priest’s chest.
“Map... Grandfather... gold!”
“What?” the priest stared at him in confusion, before his expression turned to worry. “By the gods… ‘as grandfather’s madness taken ye as well?”
The brother stabbed his finger into the paper he already pinned to the priest’s chest. “Take a look fer yourself ye ass.”
Shaking his head, and looking more than a little embarrassed at the fact that all this was happening in his place of work, the priest pushed his brother’s hand aside and turned the map over so he could take a look. He stared at it for a few moments, as if trying to work out what exactly he was seeing. Then, realization struck. “By the Pillars…” he whispered.
The priest’s brother smiled wide, a silver tooth catching the light. He slowly nodded his head. “Gold. The lost gold vein Grandfather found.”
“Th’ map was real?” the priest asked, before noticing that the rest of the templegoers had begun to approach - clearly the idea of a map to secret gold intrigued them as well. The priest held the map to his chest so they could not see it. “Where did y’ find it?”
“Wouldn’t ye know it, I was cleanin’ the old sod’s basement whe’rin he laid Gramma’s old books she used to like before she passed n’ I stub me toe and this big old tome falls down and when I went to pick ‘er up, me thumb opened to a page where’in this map was saving place!”
“Very lucky!” Beyre chimed in.
The priest looked around, still conscious of the eyes on him. Then, he handed the map back to his brother. “Go home,” he said. “Keep it secret, an’ keep it safe. We’ll talk aboot this later.”
“UH HUH!” The younger brother held the map close to his chest and all but skipped out of the temple. A mad cackle could be heard as he ran down the streets, punctuated by the closing of the temple door. Already, Beyre was standing over the priest’s shoulder, a smile bigger than his brother’s.
Disappointed, some of the templegoers returned to their seats, while others left the building. Once things were settled, the priest turned back to Beyre. “I’d like t’ speak with ye outside,” he said.
“Okay.” Beyre was already moving towards the door. Passing through she stood completely still until the priest was also through, at which point she blatantly spoke, “Can I have my name on the wall now?”
But the priest only stared at her, keeping his emotions closely guarded. “Who are you?” he asked her.
“I’m Beyre, the lady of luck!” She rolled her eyes. “You’d think there would be some appreciation for chance around here already.”
The priests eyebrows rose. “So… yer a goddess, then?” he asked. “Truly?”
Beyre held a finger to her lips. “Just don’t tell everyone what I look like, yeah? I forgot to change before this and I need this one.”
The dwarf did not give much indication on whether or not he heard her. He spoke quickly, his words outrunning his thoughts. “Ye should introduce yerself to the Prince,” he said. “If ye are a goddess, or someone of great power, he’d be ‘appy to receive you. An’ if yer ‘ere t’ ‘elp, ‘e can tell you how. And…” he paused. “An’ thank ye for th’ map, if that was yer doing. I don’t know how ye would ‘ave done it, but… it may ‘ave saved my family.”
“That’s good luck,” Beyre agreed, “you’re welcome.” She looked around for a moment before looking back at the priest. “The other ones never helped you personally, yeah?”
“Personally?” the priest asked. “Well, aside from all th’ great deeds they performed… no, they never ‘elped me specifically…” he said his voice seeming to trail off, before he spoke with new urgency. “Not that they had much reason to, o’ course.”
“Ha!” Beyre seemed to be celebrating a small victory. “How short sighted of them.” Finished with her contentment she grinned. “Take me to your prince.”
The priest blinked. “Right now?”
“You’re the one who suggested it, yeah?” Beyre was quick to cross her arms.
“I… I did,” the priest nodded, though he was clearly taken aback by the enormity of what was just asked of him. “V-very well. Let’s go.”
“Yes!” Beyre shook the dwarf by the shoulder. “And when we get there, you can present me!”
The guards standing before the outer gate of the palace could have been mistaken for statues. They stood ramrod straight and perfectly still in their heavy armour, with halberds in their hands, swords at their belts, and large shields on their backs. If the priest had not addressed them, there would have been no indication that they were alive at all.
“I am Brother Ranulf of the Temple of the Pillars,” he said. He waved a hand to indicate his charge. “And this is Beyre… the Goddess of Luck.” He took a deep breath. “She wishes t’ meet his lordship; the Prince of the Underkingdom and the Tzar of Kral-Nordern.”
Beyre stood there, having changed her look about partway to the palace. She did away with the disguise of Nellie the Red in favor of a more transcendent appearance. Her dark red hair remained the same, as did her complexion -- but one half of her was stained orange, the eye on that half of her face as bright as a fresh citrus. Her Red City clothes were replaced with a long green dress pierced with stitchings of clover and heather -- something Nellie would never be caught wearing.
Her smile quickly faded, clearly expecting something more than the silence she was receiving.
Without saying a word, the two guards bowed in perfect synchrony. Then, with flawless precision, one of them turned and marched through the gate, up the steps to the Palace.
“The Silent Guard,” Ranulf explained. “They don’t speak a word. Not while on duty. Probably going to inform the Prince of your coming.”
“Well let’s hope they don’t trip on the way.” Beyre crossed her arms.
A minute passed in awkward silence. Then, the sound of footsteps and clanking metal could be heard as the guard returned. He nodded to the other guard, who nodded back, before turning to face them once more. They offered another bow, before one of them gestured for the two to follow. And with that, he went back through the gates again, while the second guard moved aside to let them pass.
And so, a goddess and two dwarves passed the threshold of the gatehouse and ascended the steps of the palace, under the watchful gaze of the statues of dwarven lords and heroes. They reached the top, where more guards stood at attention, but stepped aside to open the door for them.
Then they entered a grand entryhall, with carpets, candles, sculptures, and paintings. They carried on to a pair of doors at the far end, and upon passing through those, they entered the throne room. It was spacious, with a high ceiling from which two ornate chandeliers hung. A carpet led from the door to the throne, and on either side were crowds of nobles, merchants, military officers, and other prominent citizens.
Upon the throne itself sat a man who could only be the Prince. He looked young, as far as dwarves went. He wore armour that appeared to be made from silver with a golden trim, and had a luxurious red silk cape. His hair was short and blond, but his beard was at least a foot in length. Upon his brow was a crown, in the center of which was a large perfectly spherical emerald. And around his neck was an amulet with a sapphire of similar size. He would have been handsome, if not for the patch of stony skin on his right cheek.
As they approached the throne, the Prince rose to his feet, descended the steps of his throne, and offered them a slight bow. “Arvid Algrimson welcomes you, self-proclaimed Goddess,” he said.
The priest, Ranulf stepped forward. “This is Beyre, the Goddess of Luck,” he said, by way of introduction.
“And this is Ranulf.” Beyre put her hand on the priest’s shoulder. “Your best dwarf.”
Arvid’s eyebrows rose. “High praise,” he said. “What service did the lad perform for you?”
“Me?” Beyre let out a laugh not quite sarcastic but not quite genuine. “He brought to my attention, a literal Goddess of extreme power, how great your people are. So now I’m here, in all my might, impressed and happy with the dwarves.”
“Well it is good to know we ‘ave impressed you so,” the Prince went on. “Had we known you were coming, we would ‘ave prepared a better welcome. May I ask what brings ye to our city?”
“I was curious,” Beyre admitted easily. She started to walk around the room, eager to prod the decorations and gaze up at the chandeliers. Her pacing continued with her speech, “I was really wondering how you all handled chance and what you thought of me. Ranulf showed me that you enjoy me very much, for sure.”
“Always a risk involved in mining and trading,” the Prince said, “and those are the Underkin’s lot in life.”
“Yeah, well, um...” Beyre turned to the prince. “So you could sort of say I’m very prevalent in your society.”
“Is that what ye wish fer?” Arvid asked. “A place in our pantheon?”
“Seems only fair, doesn’t it?” Beyre lost her composure for a moment, a snap of orange breaking into her usual complexion. “I mean anything could happen anytime, anywhere and no one seems to really appreciate it when it does or doesn’t!”
“That does seem fair,” Arvid said, his lips curling into a slight smile. “And easy enough to arrange, though it’ll take time t’ build temples and recruit new priests. But, if ye can swear an oath to safeguard an’ protect the luck o’ my people, I can swear an oath t’ revere you alongside the rest o’ our gods, an’ do my best t’ convince my people t’ do the same.”
“Well now hold on.” Beyre raised her palms, “As pleasant as that sounds, not everyone is lucky. If everyone was lucky then no-one would be lucky... or something. Either way, I can only go so far as to promise luck to those in my favor, and whatever chance may have in mind for those who are a little to the side of my... favor. Makes sense, right Ranulf?”
Ranulf nodded somewhat hesitantly.
Arvid continued speaking. “Oh, I’m not askin’ for us all to ‘ave windfalls and bountiful ‘arvests. If such a thing were possible, the gods would ‘ave done so long ago. An’ if they did, we’d all be a lot softer an’ weaker than we are now. What I’m askin’, is if ye can make occurrences of bad luck less common.”
“Oh! I know how to do that for sure.” Beyre smiled. “Keep me as happy as Ranulf managed this afternoon and you can have all the luck you want, or something. I think this is a good turn of events, yeah?”
“Indeed it is,” the Prince nodded. “Yer more than welcome t’ dine with us tonight, though it won’t be until tomorrow that a proper feast can be arranged. Until then, I can arrange t’ give you a tour of the palace or the city. Or I can ‘ave some bards and poets share our songs and histories. We Underkin are a hospitable people.”
“Mm! I like it, though I have to make a quick trip to the underworld in the morning -- but after that, let’s do!” Beyre clapped Ranulf on the back. “I told you it was going to be exciting!”
Beyre is a force ghost on a covert mission to the dwarf fortress. Once inside she locates their places of worship and infiltrates only to find altars of gods that aren’t her. Naturally she materializes as Nellie the Red and harasses a priest about it (who has the patience of a ... priest). Anyways, during this learning exchange, an old man earns some bad luck and eventually gets what was coming to him BUT the priest, known also as Ranulf earns some good luck and his younger brother uncovers the map to a lost vein of gold that will set them both up for life and beyond.
Impressed, Ranulf asks Beyre who she is, and she eagerly tells him she is the Lady Luck. Ranuld suggests meeting the prince so Beyre changes her form to something more goddess like and goes. Algrim is amused by Beyre and agrees to have her added to the Pantheon that the dorfs worship.
After months spent educating his people and constructing settlements and palaces for them, Algrim felt compelled to return to Paradise, and check on Arira. Although it had been some time since they last spoke, he had not forgotten her promise to hold a welcoming feast for him, nor had he forgotten his promise to take her up on it. Besides, of all the gods he had met, she perhaps left the strongest impression on him. Maybe it was because she was the first he had encountered, or maybe it was something else.
The Underking decided he would not journey to his new realm alone or unadorned, and so he brought an escort of a dozen dwarves. They had come from one of the newly-created underground settlements; one situated directly beneath the Paradise. They were those who had demonstrated exceptional leadership, initiative, or work ethic. Pillars of the community, one could say. They were donned in robes of varying colours.
Algrim himself wore bright blue, and made the decision to go in his flesh-form rather than his stone-form. Upon his brow he wore a heavy crown that appeared to be carved from simple stone, but was adorned with several bright and rare jewels.
Before he departed, in a rather uncharacteristic display of vanity he conjured up a mirror to examine himself. That was rather odd, he mused. Never before had he been all that concerned about his appearance.
Oh, who was he kidding. He knew why.
The mountain walls of Arira’s paradise were within sight. He had sent word ahead, and the messenger had returned to confirm that they received it, so the inhabitants should be expecting him. The dwarf god felt an unusual twinge of nervousness. “Get ahold of yourself,” he whispered.
“Is something the matter, oh Honourable Underking?” One of his followers questioned.
“Nothing,” Algrim said, shaking his head. “Now let’s go. I have a pledge to honour, and we have a feast to get to.” If the offer still stood. Hopefully the goddess still remembered, and wouldn’t feel jilted that he had taken so long to take her up on it.
And with those words, they carried on toward their destination.
As the dwarves would eventually make their way up to and enter the Ariran Paradise, before them would be something that only Algrim himself had seen before. Trees and bushes and shrubs and so forth all about, land stretching out farther than the eye could see with hills and plains and so forth, game and beasts and fruits and plants of all possible edible kinds one could imagine...and then some, and even untouched minerals and eternally-regenerating deposits of all resources civilizations could ever want and so forth that lied below it! It wasn’t as comfortable as the underground perhaps was, and yet all the same the aura of the place screamed of ‘divinity’ and ‘bliss’. It was a vast enough, grand enough place that a city and towns and villages spread and growing all about were possible for those who lived above, though the untold potential and incredible beauty of it all was notable indeed.
Still, it seemed the humans had built up more since the last Algrim had been there as the group in time would have gotten closer and closer to the temple. Homes of proper brick and stone, with proper roofing and all, were beginning to pop up as the former wooden abodes and huts and such of yesteryear were beginning to decline. Even so, it would be...a long time for the population to grow and change things fully.
Yet more than this, it seemed as if the population was abuzz with activity! Racks of great grass-feasting beasts were being carried about on mortal-carried palanquin-like work platforms. Hunters wielding longbow and matchlocks and so forth in a peculiar array were resting, cleaning up, or even jovially laughing amongst each other. Paths made with brick and very tightly-fitted stones were beginning to emerge, even, to connect living spaces and the barely-starting-to-grow population.
Smells of savory cooked meats offm myriad kinds that had been simmering for untold hours, lovely pots of stews and soups sat bubbling with both lighter as well as richer and darker broths that contained untold spices, fire-roasted veggies and fruits seemed to add a sweet scent to the air as they cooked upon great fires or upon slabs of metal placed over fires, and so forth trailed through the air.
There too were celebratory hangings of myriad colors, ranging from light blues to lovely yellows and rich reds and royal purples hung about on banners, flag-like hangings, and the ilk. Artistic depictions of Algrim and Arira hung about in places as tapestries or paintings or so forth, all alongside even a few statues that dotted along the side of the grain main street that now led to the temple’s entrance rather than the former dirt path leading to the bottom stairs.
As the dwarves and Algrim would walk along, humans would make bows or tip hats and so forth in their direction in respect, with a few young children watching from behind their mother’s backs or chattering among each other excitedly as they looked at them from afar. Even those of some...oh? Some other races seemed to be present as well. Festive magical lights, woven by the shorter and furry Brynlic, could be seen along with those weaving them whilst other Brynlic danced about. Orderly and mannerly Erimav could be seen dotted about as they helped organize humans and others alike...though one or two seemed to be struggling with a few rather mischievous Brynlic out of the corner of the Earth God’s gaze. Even the great Ketto, rather large female-looking humanoids with red skin and superhuman musculature to boot, had donned great robes and so forth as they stood either as policing guards, big cooks helping with the preparations, sitting among hunters, or simply helping hang things from the homes or from festive poles and such. Dirham were too among the bunch, somewhere between humans and Erimav they might seem physically, and wielding strength somewhere between Humans and the towering Ketto as they could be seen in good numbers among the rest.
Algrim wasn’t entirely sure what most of these races were, or where they had come from. Another sign of how busy the other gods had been while he toiled underground. His own companions looked upon them with varied reactions; suspicion, fascination, curiosity.
“It’s a very diverse place, eh?” one of the dwarves commented.
“Da,” another answered. “Zey have sekritz we can learn?”
Algrim for his part was silent, taking in the sights, and contemplating what he would say upon meeting the goddess herself. Assuming she was here. She had to be, with all this activity.
Ultimately, the troop of dwarves and Algrim would be met more properly at the bottom of the stairs that ascended up into the fortress-temple. Whilst a proper wide landing and public square had been added down there by now, at the foot of those stairs stood a semi-circle of representatives. Among them, one adult human man who seemed to have several ladies bearing lovely sashes of dwarven size and colored after valuable metals and jewels.
“Greetings, Lord Algrim, God of Earth, and your compatriots with you in kind! We were told to prepare for several, but we did not know much of what to bear to you,” the man said before politely gesturing to the ladies about him, who would come over and gently place the sashes over Algrim and the dwarves with him, before the man spoke again, “Still, these most festive of sashes were prepared with the finest Ariran silk in the whole of the Paradise to decorate our most honored of guests to this first great feast and festival so held in your honor! As Lord Algrim is the God of Earth, Lady Arira decided upon these colors that stem from the valuable things of the earth! We pray they will be suitable for your lordship and your entourage.”
As the dwarves ran their hands over the strange fabric, Algrim looked the man in the eye. “My title is th’ Underking now,” he said. “But I thank yer lady for th’ hospitality, and th’ gifts. Please show me ta her.”
“My sincerest apologies, great Underking! But my thanks for the correction.”
The man spoke once more and gave a deep bow, before stepping aside and gesturing to the temple entrance at the top of the stairs.
“Lady Arira awaits you in the lower chamber, where the Great Pillar rests. If you desire I shall guide you myself, and any others about would be willing to do the same of course!”
“Unless things ‘ave changed, I remember th’ way,” Algrim answered, as he began to stride forward with his dwarven escort in tow. As they ascended the stairs up to the building, some of the dwarfs made comments on the stone workmanship. Some offered quiet praise, while others mumbled criticisms. There was no clear consensus, and most of it would be lost to any observer.
They entered the temple, and then descended to the lower chamber. Algrim was the first to step into the large room, with the rest of the dwarves filing in to take their places beside and slightly behind him.
The vast chamber itself was something to behold even now, having been cleaned up and smoothed out and so forth. Lovely stone flooring clacked underneath the step of the Underking, Even the stairs on the way down had been far clearer than the first trip, though the same winding trip down had been inevitable perhaps.
Yet upon this platform, this one that sat before the great and mighty pillar whose width and the massive size of the chamber outshone even the grandest of fields in space and scale, a familiar face stood there as she had been looking upon the pillar proper. She was adorned, however, in finery far better than the first Algrim had seen her. Her golden ornaments seemed to have been shined to perfection, their craft far beyond any mortals’ hands could dream of, and were now studded with rubies and sapphires and emeralds and other precious stones. Her dress was longer and silkier to the touch than ever before, and along the borders had been intricately decorated with cyclical depictions and even touches related to her and Algrim having made the pillar. Indeed those borders each bore a story, and were woven of the finest silver and golden threads that a divinity’s power could manifest. Even the circlet upon her head seemed to have flowered rather than be in the form of berries.
“Hmm?”
The goddess turned her head at hearing the approach, but seeing Algrim there her gentle smile returned in an instant. In fact, it seemed even wider and more jubilant than before as she turned around to him and gave a bow before him. Still, one could tell her joy was being restrained in order to keep up appearances...or perhaps it was something she only subtly allowed Algrim to see in particular.
“Dear Algrim, it is most splendid to see thine face here in mine Paradise once more! A most welcome sight I hath looked forward to indeed.”
For a moment Algrim was left speechless by the sight, but only a moment. He offered her a bow in return. “I could say th’ same,” he said to her. “Never in my travels have I met someone more fair and more friendly than ye.” Then he cast his eyes downward, seeming almost ashamed. When he spoke next his tone was drastically different from the one she had known him to use before. “I offer you my apologies for not coming sooner, and for breaking my word. I said nothing would keep me from it, and, well… I did get caught up in something.”
Slight distress at seeing Algrim in such a state gripped the goddess’ face for a moment, and taking a knee she put a gentle finger under Algrim’s chin and lifted it to look at her own face.
“Worry not, nor should’st thou feel guilt over this thing. If thou desirest, thou art forgiven. Yet stilI could’st never be wroth or such ilk at thee, for what thou dids’t need to do then, that hast thou done. I too twas’ caught up in mine own work for this world…and twas in such I ran into mine own troubles to be truthful with thee.”
Despite her gentle smile and putting in her best to try to cheer up the Underking, Arira’s tone did seem to drift into a melancholy near the end as she trailed off. Letting out a sigh, the goddess then returned to a warmer smile as she gently took Algrim’s hands into her own.
“Wherefore do not fret, for naught is wrong with thee in mine eyes. Quite the opposite!”
Algrim returned the smile, but then his expression shifted into concern. “What sort o’ troubles? Anything y’ need ‘elp with?”
A flash of sadness crossed the goddesses’ eyes, and ever so slightly she gripped Algrim’s hands tighter as she still held them within her own.
“I...oh dear. I shalt be truthful to thee, nay a lie, I did go far into the heavens to try to bringeth mine pain to a finality. I did take on my true form, and in that I did bring the seasons and climes and all cycles into existence and bound deep into mineself to be rooted and bound eternally. It cannot all be undone, save I cease to exist, and indeed it did bring my pains to a halt.
…...Yet it was too much all at once. I did return to this form, and from the center of all the heavens I fell like a great stone dropped from there.”
She grimaced at the mention of her falling, somewhat embarrassed at admitting she had overexerted.
“Twas nothing most could have done, so there should’st be no regret from thee or the few I have met yet, but whilst unconscious I was’t plucked from mine fall by the Goddess of Beauty, Wyn. To the sight of her did I awake thereafter, and she dids’t ask of me what I had been doing. So I did answer her, and spoke even of mine Paradise and parent as she did ask me about them, though as she spoke of if mine rather peculiar parent would desire mineself to marry I did admittedly panic and become afluster with worry.”
A long-drawn out sigh then came out of her lovely lips before the goddess continued.
“She was’t most lovely to the eyes to behold, and was most kind to me despite beauty itself not being always so, yet I was’t most unprepared and twas’...seduced then and as I recovered. Naught but mine inexperience to blame, but all the same I worry it shall make me look less to thee for speaking this truth...tho I would’st prefer to tell thee this truth than hide from thee. Would be’st mine greatest regret to ever lie to thee most of all.”
Her eyes struggled to meet his, and she seemed near to almost crying to be frank.
Meanwhile, her words had been enough to almost send Algrim reeling. How was he to respond to that?
She had begun by confessing to an immense personal struggle. Between her flowery speech and her somewhat vague wording, Algrim wasn’t entirely sure what she had done, but it sounded important - not just for her, but perhaps the world. Surely, she should be consoled, or offered help, or something. That was clearly the more important of the two subjects.
At the same time, she had also confessed to bedding another goddess, and that was the source of Algrim’s conflict. Was she unaware of how he felt toward her? Of course she was. He had only had one conversation with her and had never told her. They had no commitments to one another. The feelings he had felt for her even before his revelation were both premature and irrational, yet he felt them nonetheless, and this revelation still stung as a result.
And yet he also felt ashamed. Ashamed for his selfishness. Because now he was thinking about just how much this revelation had hurt him, when she herself had gone through a great deal of pain, over something far more serious, and still seemed to feel remorse over the lesser of her two problems.
That in turn gave way to anger. Not at Arira, but at this ‘Wyn’ woman. Had the beauty goddess manipulated her? Put some form of spell on her? Is that why she was so regretful? If that was the case, Algrim would need to swear a vow of vengeance against the Goddess of Beauty, for regardless of how he felt, Arira was his friend and ally, and he would allow no one to strike such a person with impunity…
Then confusion struck. Why had Arira told him this in the first place? Why did she think he would about who she shared a bed with? Unless she already suspected his feelings. But if she did, why tell him that at all? A subtle way to deter him? No, that was an unworthy thought - he had no reason to assume she would resort to such manipulations. Did she want him to take some sort of action against Wyn on her behalf? The anger threatened to return. Perhaps he would.
Or maybe… he considered her closing words. It would be her greatest regret to lie to him most of all? She was asking for forgiveness. Why would she think she needed to be forgiven if she didn’t… which meant…
Algrim cursed himself. Once more he was thinking selfish thoughts. Friend, ally, or something else, she had exposed her secrets to him and such confidence demanded a reply!
And then suddenly he was conscious of the fact that several seconds had passed, and he had failed utterly in concealing the maelstrom of emotions which raged across his face. “I…” he began. “You don’t…” and then he was conscious of the eyes on his back.
“Leave us!” he suddenly commanded his companions, who had watched the entire exchange in stoic yet awkward silence. “Wait outside, and speak not a word of this to anyone.” Obediently they marched back up the stairs.
Only when they were gone did he look Arira in the eyes again. When he spoke next, his words were quiet, but clear. “Do not weep on my behalf,” he said. “I… I will return truth with truth, as I always have, and as I always will. Your words have hurt me, but that is more my fault than yours. I had just… I had hoped that something might be possible between us. Perhaps I should have told you sooner, or perhaps I am a lovesick fool of a godling for developing such feelings so quickly.”
“Either way…” he continued. “Whatever has passed between you and this ‘Wyn’, it is not my place to judge you for you for it. I would ask you, though… what does she mean to you? And what do I mean to you?”
A couple of tears rolled down the goddess’ face as she looked Algrim back in the eyes.
“Dearest Algrim...oh my I have caused thee such pain, though to hear truth from thine own mouth touches my heart so,” Arira said, still holding the Underking’s hands in her own, though she did move up her right hand to cup the left side of Algrim’s face softly as she looked into his eyes, a few more tears beginning to come down from her eyes as she spoke, “To know how thou feelest...it in truth makes mine heart most glad. Worry not, for Lady Wyn is a friend but no closer. I holdeth no hate for her, yet she doth not hold mine heart.”
She would then place a chaste kiss upon Algrim’s forehead.
“Such is why I hath felt such great worry to confess what had happened betwixt mineself and Lady Wyn to thee...for in mine mind I have thus feared thou would’st cast me aside forever more. I am no expert in matters of love, and all of this is new, yet still if thou thinkest thineself a lovesick fool even after all of this...then I shalt forever be one alongside thee as well.”
Arira then took a long, deep breath, drumming up what courage she had before she continued once more.
“I hath felt such great worry to confess what had happened to thee...for in mine mind I have thus feared thou would’st cast me aside forever more. I am no expert in matters of love, and yet still if thou thinkest thineself a lovesick fool even after all of this, then I shalt be one as well so that thou art not alone. So if even with the truths I hath told thee thou desirest not me anymore, I shalt respect it. For I wish not to hurt thee, as such even in thought causes me pains greater than those I felt from the world itself prior.
Yet in the plainest of language I shall most truly make mine words and feelings most clear here and now...
...Of all the gods or mortals I have met or ever will meet, of all the ages before and ever to come, no matter what come or what may, my heart belongs to thee alone. I love you most of all, Algrim Underking, and this will never change no matter how the tides of this Shard of Creation go and no matter what you decide for yourself. Since our first meeting my heart has longed after you for uncountable nights. The touch of your strong hands, the comfort of your presence and splendid character...all of you. Such is my deepest, heartfelt truth that I make known to you now and forevermore.”
Algrim blinked in astonishment. The way she spoke, the attraction she had to him burned far more brightly than what he had felt for her. This was not what he had expected. Not at all. It went beyond what he had dared hope for. For the second time that day, he was at a loss for words.
So, he didn’t speak. Instead, he lurched forward and upward, planting his lips on hers.
Arira returned the gesture without hesitation, her lips pressed against those of the dwarven God’s own. She kept her hand on his cheek as she kissed him in return. No words. No shouts of jubilation. No nothing. Just the warmth of the Underking’s face pressed against hers was enough, the silent feelings shared between them without anything else needed in that most precious moment. The god wrapped his arms around her waist, deepening the embrace.
And then, he pulled away, but still held onto her. “Well…” he said softly. “I accept your feelings, as you have clearly accepted mine. But…” his voice trailed off. “It could be unwise to progress too swiftly. Whatever we might feel toward each other, we have in truth spent very little time in each other’s company, and there is much about each other we do not know. Let’s fix that. And then, after enough time has passed, and we have seen more of each other, we shall see if we both still feel the same way.” He brought a hand up to touch her cheek, wiped away a tear, and awaited her response.
The goddess silently nodded as she held onto Algrim in return, a joyful and happy smile upon her face as the tears that had begun to flow more freely now began to dry.
“Indeed...haha...but to spend time with thee more so now would be most welcome indeed. So let us spend time with each other, to get to know one another, and see if our feelings thus remain the same.”
“Indeed. And um… no more affairs with others,” the Dwarf-God said, somewhat awkwardly.
The goddess lightly nodded in return.
“Tis’ my promise, dear Algrim, and for thee I shalt keep it,” she said, still smiling despite the truth and seriousness of her words, though one hand came to her stomach as she raised an eyebrow at her stomach before looking to the Underking again with a small chuckle escaping her lips, “Oh my...perchance I crave some of the feasting foods above?”
Algrim smiled. “Aye. We’d best get to it.” He offered her his arm, and the two proceeded up the stairs.
After months spent civilizing his dwarves, Algrim decides to go return to Arira and take her up on that feast offer. He arrives to a warm welcome, having already sent word ahead. He then goes down to meet Arira herself. They exchange some words, and Algrim asks how things have been.
Arira then tells him of some of her troubles, before also confessing her past fling with Wyn. Algrim is a bit hurt by this because he had a bit of an infatuation with Arira as well. He goes through a bit of an emotional roller coaster because he’s not sure why Arira has told him this, before finally deciding to confess his feelings toward her. Arira then reveals that she feels the same way about him, and told him about the Wyn thing specifically because she didn’t want to feel like she was keeping any secrets from him and wanted to get that sort of baggage out of the way before anything else.
They kiss. But then Algrim is like: “Hold up this is only our second conversation and we don’t actually know each other that well.” So they agree to enter what is basically a period of courtship; spending time together and getting to know each other before they come to a final decision on whether or not they are actually compatible.
With the world stabilized, the months that followed were ones of great productivity for Algrim. He had returned to Arira’s paradise, only to discover that the goddess was absent. The disappointment he felt was almost immeasurable, but she most likely had her reasons. There was much more wrong with the world than earthquakes, after all. Perhaps it was good that she had begun to look beyond this one little corner.
In any case, he saw no sense in waiting around. Already, the rest of his kind had made immense strides in repairing the world. Where there had once been wastelands there were now lush and diverse ecosystems.
However… something about it didn’t sit well with him. All of those ecosystems felt too… open. Exposed. Vulnerable. They were easy to find, and there was nothing protecting them against attacks from above. Had they learned nothing?
Algrim shook his head. How foolish. He would not make the same mistake.
And so, he dug downward. Deep beneath the earth. Then, upon reaching sufficient depth, he began to dig outward. For months he toiled, creating an advanced network of vast city-sized caves and long winding tunnels, which spanned across much of the known world. Between his mastery of earth and the pillars he had constructed, there was barely any impact on the world above, save maybe the occasional tremour.
But a cave could not support life. Not on its own. So, he created mushrooms, mosses, and roots, all of which served different functions. He embedded ores and other minerals into the walls, that could one day be harnessed.
One mushroom would emit a bright golden glow, serving as a source of light, and this was perhaps the most frequent of the underground vegetation. It tasted horrible, and was mildly poisonous, in order to discourage creatures from eating it. The other mushrooms and mosses came in a wide variety of colours, and were considerably more edible, with some also having medicinal purposes.
Next, he added animals. Various species of mole-like creatures, which would serve as a source of meat and protein. Snakes, and bats, to serve as predators which kept their population in check.
But all of this was only intended to support something even larger. Intelligent life. And so it was that the Stone God built statues in his own image throughout the tunnels and caves.
When the vast stone armies stood in completion, Algrim retreated to the largest and centermost of the caves. Then, he licked his lips, cracked his knuckles, and punched the ground.
A massive shockwave of energy boomed outward. At first, nothing seemed to happen. Then, the stone he had created his people from turned to flesh. The gemstones embedded in their faces became eyes. The moss piled onto their heads and chins became hair. Algrim turned his own skin to flesh in order to match them. They stood, blinking, confused, and amazed.
They were his people.
Although they were short compared to the humans, they were considerably more durable. Their skin and muscles were tougher, their stamina more plentiful, and their bones were made of steel. They could live a healthy life of up to four hundred years. Personality-wise, he made them creatures of honour and integrity; they could never knowingly share a falsehood, while breaking an oath would fill even the most immoral among them with a certain sense of shame and regret unless Algrim and only Algrim would absolve them. At the same time, he also made them beings of cunning and ingenuity, especially when it came to building and crafting.
He needed a name for what he had built, he realized belatedly. The Underkingdom, he eventually decided upon. And he would be its King, for it was his creation in his domain, and inhabited with his subjects. The Underking.
With a smile, he turned to his subjects and addressed them for the first time. There was much to teach them, and his work was only beginning.
Algrim has finished building the pillars. He decides to go visit Arira but pops in while she isn’t there. He’s disappointed. He then decides to go back to work. He builds a vast tunnel and cave network underneath the world, filling it with ecosystems. I haven’t specified how expansive this is yet; it mostly depends on what the GMs will allow and also who actually wants dwarves under their civilizations.
Anyway, he then goes on to make dwarves, and names this place the Underkingdom.
-Create a massive cave and tunnel network underground. -Fill those caves and tunnels with ecosystems that can support life. -Create dwarves. -Begin teaching those dwarves civilization.
“Through selfless service, you will always be fruitful and find the fulfillment of your desires”
The sixth and final destination was in sight. After so much time spent travelling, fighting whatever monsters were foolish enough to pick a fight with him, Algrim’s task was nearly complete. With the construction of this final pillar, the world will be fully stabilized, and he would finally be able to celebrate his triumph.
He emerged from his boulder, the large rock once again dissipating into a cloud of ash, and approached the hill upon which he intended to build the final pillar. There was someone there already -- a dark shape, partially divine. The An-Clastophon was sat upon the hill, and they beckoned Algrim up.
“And who would you be?” Algrim called up to them.
The An-Clastophon responded, “I am a servant of my god, here on business. Is this to be the center of the next ring of stabilized land?” She stood up, looking first at Algrim then down at the hill, as if to illustrate her question.
“Aye,” Algrim replied. “You’ve been travelling, then?”
The An-Clastophon nodded, and with a look of appraisal at Algrim, asked, ”If I may ask, how have you been stabilizing the land? Is there a specific method?”
“There is, aye,” Algrim said. [color=brown]“Though I’d prefer to discuss this with yer master.”[/color’
She shook her head, waving dismissively with an off-hand remark, ”My master does not so easily reveal themselves. Anything you tell me will be relayed to them,” she paused, and then tapped her head, ”and you can rest assured it will be relayed how you intended it. I quite value my life, and lying to my master is an easy way to trip my monitor.”
“Why can’t yer master be ‘ere themself?” Algrim asked.
The An-Clastophon narrowed her eyes, and responded, flatly, ”As I’ve said, they do not so easily reveal themselves. There’s nothing you can do to change this, as it was not my decision, nor will it ever be my decision.”
Now Algrim narrowed his eyes. “Watch yer tone, lass. What is yer master’s name? What are they the god of?”
Another shake of the head from the An-Clastophon, as she quickly answered, ”I cannot say. That would be a quick route to the death of this form and the correction of my mind. All that’s truly necessary to know is I am a servant of a god, anyways.”
“A god who you’ve now given me cause t’ distrust,” Algrim replied. “Won’t let me know their name, won’t meet me in person, won’t give me any information, and will kill their own servant for revealing such things.” He shook his head. “Can’t say I approve o’ such tyranny.”
She sat down on the hill, saying in return, a slight, fierce edge to her voice, ”Tyranny implies wrongdoing. I understand the whys of it, and recognize the hows. How can you tyrannize someone who is a part of you and acts in agreement?”
“Regardless,” Algrim continued. “If yer god wants any answers from me, they’ll ‘ave t’ reveal themself t’ me in person. A messenger won’t be of any help with what I’m tryin’ t’ do, an’ I can’t trust any oaths or pledges from y’ unless they’re made by yer master in person.”
The An-Clastophon spread her arms, saying, ”I am not just a messenger. I act with the empowerment of my god -- and as my god has ordered me to foster cooperation with gods, I intend to look for ways we can cooperate.”
“That’s all well an’ good,” Algrim replied. “But what if yer orders change? What if y’ make a promise to me, and then yer god, not beholden t’ the same promise, orders ye to break it?”
She stood up once more, answering as she paced atop the hill, ”What difference would a promise from my god make as opposed to a promise from me? My god could break a promise made by themself just as easily as one made by me,” she paused, and then, in a reassuring tone, ”I do not expect any promise will be broken regardless; what is hidden is not necessarily evil or untrustworthy. I have been ordered to build rapport and cooperation with the gods for a reason, and that reason is not served by violating trust.”
Algrim glared at her. The secrecy, her stubborn refusal to adhere to it, her dismissal of the importance of promises and pledges, all reeked of disrespect and untrustworthiness. Under other circumstances, he would have driven her off and carried on with his work. However, after some thought, he realized that would accomplish very little.
Her master already knew where the pillar would be and would have some idea of what it would do, and it wasn’t like he could put it somewhere else. Driving her away wouldn’t make her master any less of a threat, but might instead what could have been an unreliable ally into a dangerous enemy. Besides, with the way the pillar was designed, if any treachery was intended, he would know about it at once.
So the god bit back whatever fiery reply he would have normally uttered, and swallowed his pride. Just this once. “The question still remains,” he went on. “What can ye personally do ta ‘elp me?”
”It depends on what you need help with,” the An-Clastophon answered, halting in place and turning to look at Algrim.
“I need some’un who can provide a bit o’ extra power, and also ensure this spot remains protected, from th’ other gods if need be,” he said. “Now y’understand why I needed t’ speak with yer master?”
The An Clastophon once more shook their head, saying in return, ”Not necessary. I am a servant of my god, and as such am empowered to act in their name. If it is power you require, I have a way to provide it,” she assessed the hillside, ”and if it is protection that is needed, well, I have ideas in mind.”
“What sort o’ ideas?”
The An Clastophon gestured to the hill, explaining, ”I can more than defend the pillar, assuming I have a suitable terrain to work with. I think a volcano would do nicely; it’s defendable terrain while still being controllable. Better to have a natural disaster under our control than a series of natural disasters borne of mortal or divine meddling.”
“A volcano?” Algrim asked. He stroked his beard for a few moments. “Hm. I s’pose if we bury it deep down in th’ lava, no one could get at it. It’ll prevent the volcano from erupting. An’ if anyone does some’ow get at it, and destroy it, the resulting eruption will make ‘em pay. Aye… that could work,” he said, though there was still a guarded tone in his voice.
The An-Clastophon nodded, ”Exactly. Now, what will you need me to do to assist in creating this pillar?”
“As I said, just a bit o’ extra energy, that I can channel into building it,” Algrim said, extending his hand.
She held out her hand, an orb manifesting within it. It pulsed with power, and she offered it out to Algrim, saying, ”Take it, and use it.”
Algrim did so, reaching out to take her hand as he had done five times before. He formed the energy into another gem, this one being of the sea. He looked at the gem was scrutiny, as if inspecting it for some hidden flaw.
Then, he stomped his foot.
The earth began to shift. The hill they were on rose upward, transforming into a mountain. He stomped his foot again, and a circular space in the center of the hilltop - now a summit - began to sink down into the lowest depths of the earth. Deeper and deeper it went, until the faint magma of lava was visible beneath. A glow which was rising closer to closer, for the magma was rising now that it had a path to the surface.
Algrim threw the stone down the hole, and it met the lava with a light ripple through the molten rock. At once the lava’s rise halted. Time passed, and then slowly, it began to lower back to a more reasonable level.
“Y’ can’t see it,” he said, once things had settled. “But it’s under there. I expect you t’ do yer part in protecting it. Else there will be a reckoning.”
The An-Clastophon nodded, as she looked down upon the sea of lava before her. She said, ”I will see to it. It will be in good hands.”
“It better be,” Algrim said. “Now I must be off.” Although all six pillars had been finally constructed, and the world now fully stable, there were other tasks he had to see to.
The An-Clastophon waved him goodbye, and as he flew off, she began to dig. Deep beneath the earth, she blasted the magma below to create a path to the pillar out of cooled obsidian. Hollowing out a large room within, she excavated the pillar. Once she had done so, she began to prod the pillar.
If it stabilized the land, she could modify the land with it, she believed. With a specific application of power, the earth rumbled as she raised mountains. Another specific application of power, and certain sections sunk deep beneath the sea. Then, an eruption; with one massive press of power, the lava began to flow.
By the time she saw fit to end the eruption, great canyons had been carved in the land by the streams of lava, and ash spewed endlessly from the sky down on the land around the pillar. Emerging from beneath the rock, she took note of all of this. She took it upon herself to learn as much about the machinations of the pillar as possible.
Algrim is flyin’ around makin’ pillars, and meets the As-Clas at the final pillar site The As-Clas found circles of stabilized lands in her travels and did fancy maths to find out where the next pillar would be She talks with Algrim a bit, who really does not like the fact the As-Clas won’t reveal where her god is After the philosophy section, Algrim agrees to make the pillar under a giant volcano. She offers up an artifact that stores an MA, and he gets to work. Then, he flies off. The As-Clas carves out her first lab around the pillar and messes with it. She creates the lands around the volcano.
With the birth of a single mote of green in an otherwise bleak world, Yaerna turned her gaze towards tempering the unruly beings that rampaged on the surface for survival. Chief among the issues at hand were the strange creatures that sprung forth from cracks in the earth, or worse - from strange rifts in the fabric of existence, and tried to establish an unstable dominance over the few scraps that were left.
They uprooted her vines and like those first humans, trampled any place and sought to kill everything in their path. Though the creatures were not an affront in and of themselves, they were untested; and thus should only remain if they managed to do so in an altering landscape with other creatures. So the Queen of Thorns resolved to test them herself and began her first of many hunts, leaving her extremely slowly growing glen behind to proactively hunt the beings of the world - and those beyond it.
She took the form of a grandiose and wide-winged bird of prey and scoured the landscape for movement. Whenever she found movement, she dove to examine and pounce on it. Such events turned out to be extremely rare, and Yaerna instead ended up sailing across the western half of the shard observing the havoc and stability that seemed to slowly be establishing itself. A glowing jewel in the northwest caught her eyes from afar, and she made a mental note to visit whatever place exuded such curious glimmers after she had made her own mark on the world.
Then another curiosity dawned on her. Far below, halfway to the edge of the world, an oily black shape twitched and slithered erratically across the ground, leaving a black trail after it. It was formless and shifting, a seemingly endless set of wriggling tendrils matched only by row upon row of sharp teeth and mismatched eyes. Curious, the Queen of Thorns leapt out of her flying form and turned into a weak approximation of her true self; a shadowy black and green lupine beast. Much smaller of course, Yaerna merely wanted to test this strange beings mettle, not invoke the full force of her royal dominion over nature. So the goddess dove from the sky in her beastlike form, paws pushed forwards as she howled a threatening warning in her playful attack.
The creature did not have the sense to move. Yaerna's paws pressed on the black, irregular beast and it exploded with force, showering the landscape and goddess with a thick and oily black substance. Yaerna sniffed with disappointment. It had been larger than she first estimated and yet it couldn't even handle a single pounce. And it smelled foul - like an old corpse bathed in sulphur. Thoroughly let down by her test of strength, Yaerna interested herself in the trail the being had left behind, stalking across the landscape to follow the oily slag back to whence the creature had come. After a few moments of expeditious trotting, the Queen of Thorns came upon the only reasonable place the creature had come from; a reality-breaking rippling tear in the landscape itself, with no apparent care for what lay around it. To a lesser being, it took the appearance of a bubbling pool of tar nestled into a cavernous rift in the ground. Yaerna was not fooled. The very existence of it was anathema to the rest of the world, a foreign power that imposed itself on all it touched - teemed with an incomprehensible malice. It was a hole into another place, a place filled to the brim with some kind of primal, malicious sludge. So naturally, Yaerna had to experiment with it. Other trails of sludge came from the rift, suggesting the creature she’d pounced on had not been the only one. So the goddess resolved to wait and see if more would come. Turning back to a humanoid form, she settled down on a nearby stone, leaned back, and watched. The rift bubbled with evil intent, ever so often popping or burbling to spray the nearby rocks with sludge. Mostly it seemed innocent enough.
When two days had passed, Yaerna started feeling the itch of impatience in her legs. The rift mocked her with inactivity. After another day, the Queen of Thorns resolved to meddle more actively in her experimentation. She kicked a rock into the sludge, and the black sludge accepted the tribute with an angry burp. A few moments later, a thin tendril sprayed up onto the rocks, almost as if the rift was trying to grab whatever had disturbed it. Amused, the goddess began feeding the rift with random things she could think to conjure, teasing the black goo with intermittent feeding and stirring. Poking and jolting. Pleased with her new game, the goddess lost track of time.
The sound of approaching footsteps snapped her out of it. “Oh?” a deep voice rumbled. “What’s this?” Behind her was a short humanoid who seemed to be made entirely out of stone, save for a mossy beard and gemstone eyes. He smiled at her. “I’m Algrim. Would ye be a fellow god? I’m always runnin’ intah those these days.”
Yaerna, caught holding a stone almost as big as herself over her head, had no real ability to deny the claim. After a few moments of hesitation, she dumped the rock into the brewing rift all the same, and turned to regard the short man. She cleared her throat and brushed her dirty and tattered clothes down. "Ahem, indeed. I am Yaerna, the Queen of Thorns. My demesne stretches beyond the horizon. To whom am I speaking?" Yaerna questioned crisply and adjusted her wooden crown.
“Well, I already told y’ that,” the other God replied. “Unless y’ mean my domain. Then I’m the God of Earth.” He dug his heel into the ground and twisted it to emphasize the point. “Y’ some sort of nature goddess, then? Plants and soils are natural allies, I’d say.”
”Earth? How quaint. I’m inclined to agree, Algrim. My keenest wish is for a verdant paradise where all manner of creature may freely compete. Unfortunately…” she replied and kicked a small rock into the bubbling pit. ”Between the earth-shaking, the dreary conditions and holes in the world like this one, it may yet take a while.”
“Quaint?” Algrim repeated her word, affronted. “Quaint!? Are y’ in the business of insulting every’un ya meet?”
Yaerna produced a thin smile, but nevertheless gracefully dipped her head in apology. ”It was not my intention to denigrate your very important domain. Without earth there would be nowhere for life to take root and grow.” the woman produced swiftly, and curtsied with her tattered leaf robes. ”What brings you to my neck of the woods, honorable god of earth?”
“Well, I thought I’d see about stabilizin’ the local land,” Algrim replied. “I’m sure ye’ve felt the quakes. I came ‘ere t’ do somethin’ about it.”
"That's excellent news, Algrim. Would that I knew how to help, I would leap to your side in a heartbeat." Yaerna concluded with smooth etiquette and a hand placed gently to her heart. The bubbling pit burped angrily behind her.
Algrim smiled. “Well that’s good, there is a way y’ can help, if y’ want.”
"Oh, grand," Yaerna offered briefly. "What role would I play in such an undertaking?"
“Well it’s quite simple, really. Just offer a bit o’ extra power ta ‘elp me build an object that’ll stabilize the local area. Then do yer part in keeping it safe. You’ve set yerself up in this area, aye? So ye already ‘ave a vested interest in protectin’ it.” He glanced at the rift behind. “Is uh… is that thing back there gonna pose a problem?”
"What do you mean by bu- Oh, this? Yaerna quirked a brow, turning to gesture at the black pool of swirling, otherworldly madness. "I doubt it. I've been watching it for a few… hm, days? It spawned some unearthly critter before, but it seems to have calmed down by the time I got here." she sighed and vented her mild frustration by chucking the stag helmet she'd worn in the past into the bubbling hole. The pit accepted it with a bubbling pop. A few seconds later, the ground rumbled and groaned under the burgeoning growth of the black sludge. Long dark tendrils slashed up from the hole and attached itself to dirt and stone, and the rift in reality seemed to grow ever larger as something within its dark core fought to claw itself out of the boiling sludge into their reality. Before long, it took shape as a massive stag of black sludge and random bits of debris. Dead animals captured by the dark mass and various things Yaerna had offered to the mysterious hole jutted out of the formless being like connecting points holding the madness together. Atop a giant heap of black goo vaguely in the shape of buck's head sat Yaerna's stag helmet, the crowning catalyst in sparking an otherworldly invasion. The shifting black creature was a jumble of gaping maws, loose black tendrils and an endless assortment of eyes, yet still saw fit to vaguely appear in the shape of a grand stag. It rose out of the pit with swift anger, soon towering several dozen heads taller than Yaerna and Algrim both. It released a deafening roar, spraying the landscape with black goop, before setting hundreds of eyes on the two deities.
"It appears that your arrival has jostled it." Yaerna concluded to Algrim with a non-plussed expression.
Briefly, Algrim glanced at her in befuddlement, before snapping his attention back to the creature. First and foremost, that thing needed to be dealt with. “Yer an ugly sight,” he taunted the beast, while digging his heel deeper into the ground and twisting his foot.
The creature reared back, ready to charge, only to immediately slip when it lurched forward. The soil beneath is very feet had been loosened, and the abomination crashed to the ground in a tangle of limbs and antlers, sliding toward them. “Th’ thing about fighting a god o’ earth,” Algrim said casually, as he levitated dozens of stones from the ground and shaped them into spikes, “is that there’s Earth all around us.”
As the creature attempted to rise, Algrim let loose his attack, sending a storm of stone spikes flying toward his foe. And yet as they made impact, they did not cut into the beast’s flesh as he had hoped. Instead, they were absorbed by it, and seemed to do nothing at all. Algrim let out a growl mixed with disappointment and frustration.
Yaerna had been watching the exchange with barely suppressed glee, and her eyes shone when she watched Algrim fire off his stone missiles. The fact that they had no apparent effect on the creature did not appear to bother her much. "You are more powerful than you appear." she quipped briskly before turning her attention towards the black beast of sludge, bone and stone.
The abomination lurched overhead, raising one of its oily slag-like limbs to prepare to crush them both with a solid slam. The mere act of raising its long tendril showered the landscape in black sludge. The goddess at Algrim's side was prepared however, and the small shoots and roots littering the ground came alive at a flick of her chin. Far away from them, two long vines cracked through the ground as they grew in size and slashed through the air towards what could be understood as one of the beast's hind legs. The power of the two giant whips cut straight through the sludge, separating the leg with a sickening sound. The beast fell backwards briefly, stumbling and roaring as its legs fell to the ground on its own and reshaped into its own little formless spawn of evil. Despite her best attempts to sneak attack the beast, it still lunged with its full limbs attention at the both of them, and Yaerna extended both her hands to the sky, quickly creating a seemingly impenetrable tangle of leaves and branches in a small dome around to take the extent of the slam. The barrier shook with a rumble and black sludge forced itself through the gaps, and the goddess grunted loudly as she was forced to her knees, almost as though she took the feedback of the hit on herself.
Yaerna gasped for air and the barrier fell in on itself quickly as the shield became a jumble of inert weeds and bark, revealing the beast still looming above. The landscape around them was now entirely covered in the dark goop; the abomination has obliterated just about all old features during its assault.
While this unfolded, Algrim had not sat idle. He had conjured forth more stone and dirt from the ground, this time forming it together into what appeared to be a large rectangular slab, with one of the edges sharpened. As he levitated it over his head, it could perhaps be compared to an oversized knife blade.
Algrim took stock of his target, noting that despite all the damage Yaerna had done, it still had a head. Algrim lowered the rock-knife so that it was directly in front of him, with its blade pointed up at the creature. Then, with a mighty kick, he sent the stone slab hurtling forward, cleaving straight through the beast’s head.
The abomination paused for a grueling moment, roaring and gurgling with unrelenting fury. Then, it's head lost what little stability it had left after the massive stone blade sheared through it. In massive globs of black sludge, the beast destabilized and fell apart. Starting with what remained of its head, smaller shapeless sludge creatures broke free from the main body and fell down onto the ground - most immediately splashing harmlessly against rock and dirt, leaving the landscape an oily mess. The entire creature rippled and fell apart, with a few autonomous abominations remaining stable as the large body collapsed onto the ground.
Yaerna pushed up onto her feet beside Algrim, breathing out sharply and adjusting her crown. Fresh vines rumbled through the ground from faraway places, cracking through stone and dirt to lift into the sky and slam down like lashing whips onto the smaller abominations, who could not handle the pressure of the vines' weight or the force of the strikes, and simply squished undervine, one by one.
Yaerna turned to the earthen god and allowed herself a curt but terse smile. "Your strength does you credit, Algrim. Perhaps you would hunt with me in the future? I've not ventured far yet but if there are other beings out there stronger than this, I'm certain we could make a day of it."
A smaller abomination lurched up from beside the pit, screeching with dozens of maws as it rose to assault the two deities. It nearly reached an arms length before the previously inert leaves and sticks on the ground around them twisted and several new vines smashed into the creature, splattering black sludge everywhere.
"Oh, I nearly forgot," Yaerna breathed with brisk humility, wiping some sludge from her arm. "You had a request for my assistance?"
Algrim nodded. “I believe I’ve already explained the principles to ye,” Algrim said, nodding. “I just need ye ta loan me some extra power, so that we can build something that’ll stabilize the local area. Are y’ still interested?”
Yaerna tapped her lips as she considered the matter anew, even as her vines battled what remained of the abominations, some of whom were now attempting to return to the growling black ditch from whence they came. The vines smashed and squished even tiny fragments, however. "...I will lend you my power, if you in return seal this loathsome abyss into your realm of earth. I do not want these hellions in the food chain."
The God of Earth nodded again. “I suppose I could do that,” he said, striding toward the pit, right up unto its very edge. One of the abominations leapt at him, but he punched it into the rift with ease. He gazed into it for only a moment. Then, raised his arms and shouted: “DOWN! Ye bastard!” before thrusting his palms down toward the ground.
The earth rumbled, and then the black rift suddenly fell downward, for the God of Earth had opened a hole directly beneath it, of the exact same shape and diameter. It fell to a great depth, perhaps three hundred or so feet. Then the God of Earth did a series of complex hand gestures, packing earth and stone around it as tightly as physically possible. Then, he compressed it, packing more and more onto it. Every single particle of dirt, stone, and gravel was fused together. Every atom so tightly bound as to make the stone harder than any natural metal. He piled this on for several layers, until he was confident that no natural force in the world would ever break through it.
Then the earth shook again as he filled in the hole. The ground they were standing on lowered somewhat as the earth was displaced, creating a valley. Then, finally, it was over. He took a deep breath, visibly strained from the effort. “There,” he whispred softly, in a rich weary voice that was noticeably different from any he had used before. “It’s done.”
He held out his hand to her. When he spoke again, it was with the voice he had originally used. “Now come on lass, let’s get to it.”
Yaerna had stood silent, watching her peer and his efforts with interest. Given attention, she offered a gentle nod in return, and stepped forwards to take the offered hand with her own. "Let this covenant signify a shared vision; I lend you my power, Algrim of the Earth."
As he had done three times before, Algrim channeled his power; both his own, and that which was offered to them. This time it came with much more difficulty, due to his previous display of strength, but he managed it all the same. His palm flashed green, and when the glow faded there was a bright green emerald, radiating power. He offered it to her. “Now y’ just need tae plant this gem in the ground. Like a seed.”
Yaerna accepted the gem with due reverence, keenly creating her own ceremonial curtsy as she took it from him. She took a few steps aside, and knelt onto the dirt in the middle of the valley to create a space for it by hand. With some determination she cleared a neat resting place for the emerald and laid it down with expectant eyes. Satisfied with her own diligence, she packed dirt and soil on top of it with care and artificial mysticism before standing up.
Awkward silence followed as the goddess stared intently at the earth where she had planted the gem, refusing to budge for fear of missing whatever wonder would take place. When several moments had passed, Yaerna swung around to face Algrim with a thin smile. "After such effort and fanfare about lending you my power, I was expecting something more poignant, Algrim. I won't say I'm not di-"
The ground rumbled and shook under their feet, and before the goddess could finish her admonishment clusters of vines and long roots and brambles shot from the ground, coiling and twisting around each other. They lifted the surprised Queen of Thorns into the sky as they climbed high, breaking earth and sky alike as they entwined each other in a race upwards. When the assault ended, the vines tightened a final time, leaving barely more space between each other than bark would have. The massive cluster of rising vegetation had formed itself into a giant, leafless tree in the center of the valley, twinned out of taut green and brown vines. Roots and vines coiled around the base of it, and Algrim could observe the base of it digging itself firmly into earth with far extending roots both above and below ground.
From far above, the goddess of the wild gave an excited thumbs up from a vine before catching herself in the act and returning to a more composed manner.
“Ye were saying?” Algrim called up to her.
Yaerna stepped off of her perch and fell from the great height. The goddess gripped her cloak on both sides and held it out, giving herself makeshift wings to safely glide down on. She came to a halt in front of Algrim when her feet touched soil again. "I lov-.. Amaz-..” she began, but contained herself, brushing her clothes down as she took a breath. ”Ahem. I find it acceptable. It shall make a good jewel from which to oversee the extent of my demesne. A good effort, if I may say so.”
“Hm. Well, just be sure ta keep it safe. I need t’ be on my way. Thank ye for your help, an’ may we meet again,” Algrim said, before turning away to resume his journey.
Yaerna watched the earth god turn, and parted her lips to speak, eager to get the last word in. She seemed to think better of it, and eventually turned back to regard the massive tree and the barren landscape around it.
"I should probably clean this sludge up. Yeah. Can't have the jewel of the land smelling like death. ...Yes, an important task, to be sure. A great undertaking that must be considered first." she concluded to herself in quick procrastination and turned back to look for Algrim, but he was already on his way, and Yaerna couldn't very well chase him down. No, that wouldn't do.
Yaerna finds a weird black rift thing and decides to spend a few days throwing stuff into it. Algrim appears and tells her about his plan to build the pillars. Yaerna agrees to help but then the rift spits out a sludge monster. Algrim and Yaerna destroy the monster, before Algrim seals the portal deep within the earth. Then they create the pillar, which takes the form of a tall mass of vines.
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