Kho

Divinus: The God RP, Mk. IV

_{excerpts from:}

_{The Great Collected Piece
for the One Who Shan’t from Knowing Cease
writ that it may, at last, give such Valiant Seekers Peace}

_{Written by Mijaranta the Scribe from the words of his sage and master Arahtura}

_{I. Introduction}

This is recorded by Mijaranta the scribe, the disciple of the Master Arahtura. It is the history of Dehrthaa, the great Ramshidra, by the mouth of the Master. Thus spake the sage our Master:

We begin, as are all beginnings, with praise of the Glorified Mojtha who came into the world and cleansed it. We praise him who is the sanctified avatar and voice of Misnaya the god, who is the Protective Lord, the Creator of Balance, the Maintainer of Order, the Ordainer of Justice, the Sustainer of the Living, the Writer of the Law, and the Teacher of the Meditative Ways. Praised be ever the Glorified Mojtha, praised be ever Misnaya - who is but an aspect of the One Who Frowns. And in praising them, who are aspects of aspects, we praise the ever-alert and watchful Lord whose throne is Mount Qaywandar. We praise the One Who Frowns and extend our arms to him in worship and gratitude.

Now know this Mijaranta: the first noble learning is the knowledge of places; one who seeks to know the history of Dehrthaa must first know its places. So listen carefully and know now. The Land of Dehrthaa is made up of five regions - it has always been this way. These regions are:

• The Khadaar in the north.
• The Place Betwixt the Rivers in central Dehrthaa.
• The Sea of Mimarba in the east and the great mangrove forest, known as the Mimrabans, on its coast.
• The Qaywandar Highlands and Lowlands in the west.
• The great forests and jungles of Muraymuna in the farthest south.

_{II. On the Khadaar}

Of the Khadaar, the eager seeker of knowledge should know this:

These are green and fertile grasslands. Here many herbs and shrubs grow wild, as do solitary trees. The savanna is mainly dominated by grasses, interrupted by trees and shrubs. There is much greenery near rivers and lakes, of which there is a small number.
Rains come in the wet season and do not in the dry season. The wet season is a month-long period of continuous rain that brings water and life. In the dry season, all things dry without irrigation.

In the Khadaar, fires occur annually and, if early in the dry season, are beneficial to plant growth - the people here know this and often start the fires at the right time. Larger plants are subdued by fires. Large herbivores also eat them - and they, in turn, are fed upon by large carnivores. Mature trees can survive the fires, but their seedlings may be killed.
The people of the Khadaar have played a major role in creating and extending the Khadaar with deforestation, initiated fires, agriculture, and by bringing new plants and domesticated animals. Once the Khadaar may have been a land of endless forest similar in some ways to Muraymuna, but this is no more. Only small foresty enclaves remain as evidence that there ever was a jungle here.

In terms of plants, grasses reign with some trees that seasonally shed their leaves, along with scrubs. You also find the flat-topped acacia, the solitary baobab, clumped grasses, and bush thickets. Elephant grass grows quickly in the rainy season - up to twenty handspans. I have observed that plant leaves tend to be small and thick, and either waxy or hairy. I have also observed that both the baobab and acacia lose leaves in the dry season.
The baobab is unique to the Khadaar and is quite strange in appearance - many hold it to be sacred for this reason. It can grow to great heights - I have observed those that were thirty and one hundred spans in height; one must walk four and sixty spans to go full circle around some. As for age, some are reputed to be thousands of cycles old. Their fruit is the monkey bread, its leaves are edible, and the tree stores water inside its trunk.

Anyone who has walked the great grassy expanses of the Khadaar knows well that it captures the imagination, especially in terms of freedom and wildness. Great herds of gazelles roam here - great free things unrestrained by limited space or high mountains and forests to obstruct them. The soil is good and over time some of the nomadic people have settled into villages to farm the land. People here are also involved in silk production and actively grow the white mulberry to feed their silkworms. The north is dominated by the Khadaar nomads, who have their own arrangements with the shids of the southern Khadaar.

As for animals, I have roamed the Khadaar and seen all there is to see, so record this and commit it to your memory:

• Large herds of thousands of wildebeest and caffer buffalo can be seen in the dry season.
• Other common animals include the dik-dik.
• Predators include the lion, the leopard, the cheetah, the caracal, and the wild dog.
• The hispid hare, active near dusk and dawn, roams in tall grasslands across the western Khadaar, though grassland burnings mean they are not as common anymore.
• The nocturnal bunyoro rabbit occupies the foresty and rocky regions of the central Khadaar.
• The large brown hare roams across the Khadaar’s open grasslands.
• The red fox is present, along with the "asse" - the silver-backed fox. The latter is restricted to open grasslands, where it is most comfortable, unlike the more versatile and cunning red fox.
• The raccoon dog roams in the Khadaar also and is valued for its fur, particularly when reared in captivity.
• The bat-eared fox dwells in the short grasslands on the eastern Khadaar.
• The maned wolf roams in the northern and eastern Khadaar as well as the northern parts of the Qaywandar Lowlands.
• There is a population of wild dogs in the north and central Khadaar.
• Dholes are present across the Khadaar.
• The limited woodlands of the Khadaar are home to side-striped jackals, while the related black-backed jackals prefer the open grasslands of the region.
• Golden jackals roam across the eastern and central Khadaar while wolves may be found across the region.
• Shepherds make use of various dog breeds for herding and protection across the Khadaar.
• Herds of takhi horses roam across the open grassland of the Khadaar.
• Certain breeds of horses, and certain uses (such as show or war), are considered marks of prestige, though the majority of common folk use horses for work.
• There also exist feral horse herds - that is, horses that are domesticated but have run free and are now untamed.
• Lion prides stalk the length and breadth of the Khadaar.
• Where the Khadaar meets the Qaywandar, there lives the golden cat, which also dwells in the mountains of the Lowland and beyond.
• The leopard cat is also present in the same region as the golden cat, while the common wildcat is present across the Khadaar.
• Domestic cats are kept by people as pets in settlements and on farms to hunt rodents and other pests.
• The wild boar occurs in the eastern Khadaar and along the River Muhaddir in the southern Khadaar, while warthogs can be found across the Khadaar.
• Various species of civet call the grasslands home, and as does the ferocious honey badger and the sloth bear.
• The Khadaar is home to a number of antelope species, these being the nilgai, chinkara (a kind of gazelle), the blackbuck, and the four-horned antelope.
• Snakes that can be found across the Khadaar include the common krait, the chandroborha viper, the saw-scaled viper, the spectacled cobra, and the black-tailed python.
• The common crane sometimes winters here.
• Deer species that roam the Khadaar include the chital, the muntjac, the barasingha deer, and the sambar deer.
• The great elephant, one of the greatest of the animals of Dehrthaa, roams across the Khadaar.
• The hoopoe is present in forested parts of the Khadaar and the common peafowl roams throughout the region.
• The greater one-horned rhinoceros calls the plains of the Khadaar home, particularly in the south near the River Muhaddir.
• A number of mongoose species call the Khadaar home.
• The people living in the southern Khadaar keep a riverine water buffalo species.
• The small dircaan as well as their larger cousin, the tri-horned dircaan, roam all over the Khadar.
• The terrible carnivorous and winged dircaan, known as the ujkaar, also roams the Khadaar.

This is all that the beginner needs to know - and even if you go the rest of your life knowing no more of the Khadaar than this, then you will have done well for yourself Mijaranta.

_{III. On the Place Betwixt the Rivers}

As for the Place Betwixt the Rivers, listen now for I shall relay to you what the cycles of roaming and pursuit of knowledge have unveiled:

South of the Khadaar lies the Place Betwixt the Rivers. It is a hilly but fertile area between the River Muhaddir in the north and the River Juhmar in the south. It stretches from the diversion of the River Dahuur at the Rock That Would Not Move in the west until the conversion of the Muhaddir and Juhmar into the River Mudhindahuur in the east.

The seasonal flooding of the Muhaddir and Juhmar, as well as other rivers, occurs in the dry season due to higher temperatures causing the glaciers in the Qaywandar Highlands to melt. Rain in the Place Betwixt the Rivers is split between the wet season and dry season, just like the Khadaar. The dry season is also flood season, while the wet season centres around the same month-long period of continuous rain. The rain can sometimes be so great as to cause the rivers to flood a second time, though this is a rare occurrence. The lack of rain in the dry season is not felt as markedly in the Place Betwixt the Rivers as it is in the Khadaar due to the presence of various tributaries and lakes throughout the region. As with the Khadaar, people here involved in silk production actively grow the white mulberry to feed their silkworms.

As for animals, listen now and remember:

• The karun hare thrives across the region, as does the red fox.
• The raccoon dog roams in the Place Betwixt the Rivers and is valued for its fur, particularly when reared in captivity.
• Dholes are present across the region, as are golden jackals.
• Wolves are present, but in reduced numbers due to hunting.
• Shepherds make use of various dog breeds for herding and protection across the region.
• Certain breeds of horses, and certain uses (like show or war), are considered marks of prestige, though the majority of common folk use horses for work.
• Lions call the hills, forests, and rivers of the Place Betwixt the Rivers home.
• Domestic cats are kept by people as pets in settlements and on farms to hunt rodents and other pests.
• The wild boar is present in the hills and along the rivers stretching to the east.
• The various rivers and lakes of the region are home to the common otter and smooth-coated otter.
• Innumerable freshwater fish call the rivers and lakes of the Place Betwixt the Rivers home.
• Snakes that can be found across the region include the common krait, the spectacled cobra, the pit viper, the black-tailed python, the common vine snake, the aquatic checkered keelback, and various venomous elapid snakes.
• The common crane sometimes breeds in the lakes and shallow waters of the region.
• The rivers and lakes of the Place Betwixt the Rivers are home to the fish-eating crocodile and the mugger crocodile.
• The muntjac deer roams the hilly regions of the Place Betwixt the Rivers.
• The golden monitor is to be found in the floodplains of the region.
• The river dolphin is to be found in the River Muhaddir and Juhmar.
• The hoopoe is present in forested parts of the region.
• The greater one-horned rhinoceros roams in the region.
• The people living in the region keep a riverine water buffalo species.
• The common peafowl roams throughout the region.

Know all this that I have said to you of the Place Betwixt the Rivers and know it well, and if afterwards you wish to know more, Mijaranta, you will find yourself building upon the best of foundations indeed.

_{IV. On the Sea of Mimarba and the Mimrabans}

As for that eastern region where the world seems as water beneath your feet and where the many mangroves are, know this:

After the rivers Muhaddir and Juhmar diverge, they flow through the Place Betwixt the Rivers and eventually converge again into the Mudhindahuur River, from where they flow into the Sea of Mimarba. A great mangrove forest, known as the Mimrabans, grows along the sea’s coast and in the wetlands created by the Mudhindahuur’s great delta. The dominant mangrove species is locally known as mimri or mimrabi, which yields a hardwood used for building houses and making boats, furniture, and other things.

It may well surprise you to know that I did not find these mangrove forests to be home to a great variety of plants. This is because they have a thick canopy, and the undergrowth is mostly seedlings of the mangrove trees. One notable tree that does manage to grow here, among a few others, is the nipa palm.

As for animals, there are many. Listen, Mijaranta, and I shall tell you:

• Dholes are present in the Mimrabans along with wolves.
• Shepherds make use of various dog breeds for herding and protection across the region.
• The Mimrabans are home to the majestic and terrible tiger and to the leopard cat, and to both the jungle cat and fishing cat.
• Wild boars are present in the western parts of the Mimrabans.
• Various species of civet call the Mimrabans home, and so does the small-clawed otter, common otter, and smooth-coated otter (though the latter requires freshwater from further upstream).
• Innumerable brackishwater fish call the Mimrabans home, and as does the sloth bear.
• Snakes that can be found in the Mimrabans include the spectacled cobra, the pit viper, the black-tailed python, the aquatic and nocturnal bockadam snake, and various venomous elapid sea snakes.
• The common crane commonly winters in the shallower waters of the great delta, which have the advantage of being protected by the great mangrove forest.
• The saltwater crocodile is at home in the brackish waters of the Mimrabans and the Sea of Mimarba.
• Deer species that live here include the chital, the muntjac, the barasingha deer, and the sambar deer.
• The golden monitor is to be found here and so too is the greater flamingo.
• Shrimps, prawns, lobsters, and crabs are found in abundance, as is a species of crayfish.
• The Mimrabans is also home to the greater one-horned rhinoceros.
• The people living in the region keep a swamp water buffalo species.
• Various species of woodpecker dwell here and can often be heard pecking away.
• Two great species of dircaan, the one-horned dircan and the comb-headed dircaan, dwell in the Mimrabans where their diet is composed of both vegetation and aquatic life-forms.
• A wingless relative of the winged dircaan, better adapted to aquatic environments, stalks the wetlands of the Mimrabans and the Sea of Mimarba - the water dircaan.

_{V. On Qaywandar}

Now, Mijaranta, I shall speak to you of sacred Qaywandar, its lowlands and its highlands - so listen attentively and well:

Qaywandar in the west, named for the holy mountain whereon the One Who Frowns sits enthroned, is a mountainous region and is the source of the many rivers that converge into the River Dahuur, which swiftly splits off into the Rivers Muhaddir and Juhmar due to the Rock That Would Not Move. I have sat up there in the mountains to meditate on the secrets of the rivers that stem from it, and I have seen that the coming of summer causes glaciers to melt in the Qaywandar Highlands; the resultant meltwater feeds various freshwater mountain lakes, which are in turn the sources of the many rivers of Dehrthaa. The melting of the glaciers results in the seasonal flooding of the Muhaddir and Juhmar, as well as other rivers - foremost amongst which is the River Mur in Muraymuna. Despite this, the Qaywandar Highlands, and some parts of the Qaywandar Lowlands, are very cold all cycle round. There are also many lakes in the Qaywandar Lowlands, a number of which freeze over in the colder months.

The Qaywandar Lowlands and Highlands are home to mountain rainforests. In comparison to other places, these forests have a relatively low variety of plants and life. They are mainly made up of needle-leaf trees. I found that larch, a needle-leaf that seasonally sheds its leaves, and cone-producing evergreens are most present. Some small-leaf trees that seasonally shed their leaves occur, as well as berry-producing shrubs and ground cover. The region is particularly notable for the majestic giant sequoias that grow in isolated groves - these can grow to become sixty and three hundred spans in height and the distance of walking full-circle about one can be seven and thirty spans. How old they are the mountain only knows.

The middle elevations of the Qaywandar, on the other hand, boast temperate broadleaf forest regions that support an incredible variety of life. At lower elevations, this region boasts pine forests. At higher elevations, it boasts conifer forests as well as alpine shrub and meadows. This region of middle elevation receives a considerable amount of rain during the wet season. Oaks and laurels, such as the cinnamon tree, grow here, as does maple, the common walnut, the mountain alder, the mountain hazelnut, and various species of birch and magnolia.

There are many animals in Qaywandar, for it is a blessed land that teems with life beneath the watchful gaze of the One Who Frowns. I shall speak to you of the wildlife I observed - though know that it is impossible for one man, even a watchful man, to observe all. I give you a foundation, Mijaranta, and if you will carry this torch then you must build on it. Listen now, these are the animals that call Qaywandar, its lowlands and highlands, home:

• The hispid hare roams in the eastern lowland regions.
• The snowshoe hare, whose fur is white in winter and brown in summer, dwells in the mountain forests of the Qaywandar lowlands.
• The large mountain hare is present across Qaywandar.
• The red fox is present across the lowland regions.
• Dholes are present across the Qaywandar Lowlands along with wolves.
• Shepherds make use of various dog breeds for herding and protection in the Lowlands.
• Certain breeds of horses, and certain uses (such as show or war), are considered marks of prestige, though the majority of common folk here make use of the sturdy mountain ponies to navigate the difficult terrain and heights.
• The wild kiang, the largest wild ass species, roams the Qaywandar Lowlands.
• The clouded leopard stalks the foothills of the Qaywandar mountains, and as does the leopard.
• The heights of the Qaywandar, above the tree line, are home to snow leopards, chinchilla, and wolverines, while the forests of the Highlands are home to the marbled cat and the golden cat.
• The golden cat, along with the leopard cat, dwells in the Lowlands and to the foothills stretching towards Muraymuna and beyond.
• The lynx is well adapted to stalk the difficult terrain of the Qaywandar Lowlands and Highlands.
• The yellow-bellied weasel dwells in both the Highland and Lowland forests, though it descends to the Lowlands in especially cold weather.
• The wildcat also occurs in the Lowlands, as does the wild boar.
• The giant forest hog also occurs in the Lowlands and where the Qaywandar foothills merge with Muraymuna.
• The yellow-throated marten and hill marten dwell in the forests of the Lowlands and Highlands of Qaywandar, as well as where the foothills merge with the jungles of Muraymuna.
• The lakes and rivers of the Qaywandar foothills are home to the common otter and smooth-coated otter.
• Some species of grey langur inhabit the Qaywandar.
• The mighty brown bear occurs above the tree line, in the Highland forests, and in their Lowland counterparts.
• The Lowland forests are also home to the arboreal black bear.
• Snakes that can be found in the Lowlands include the common krait, the spectacled cobra, the pit viper (which can be found in the Highlands and above the tree line), the black-tailed python, the common vine snake, the bronzeback tree-snake, the very hardy, adaptable, and arboreal cat-eyed snake, and the mountain pit viper (in forests at high altitudes).
• The black-necked crane summers in the great Highland lakes of the Qaywandar.
• The rivers and lakes of the Qaywandar Lowlands and foothills are home to the fish-eating crocodile and the mugger crocodile.
• Deer species that live in the Qaywandar foothills include the chital, the barasingha deer, the muntjac and sambar deers (which can both be found in the Highlands).
• The great elephant can be found even in the Highlands of Qaywandar.
• The tenacious ibex dwells above the tree line in the mountains.
• The people living in the mountains keep a riverine water buffalo species as well as domestic yaks further up beyond the tree line.

This is what the one who sits upon the throne of Mount Qaywandar has deemed fitting and right to show me; that there is his kingdom and his are its wonders. He allows whom he wishes to gaze on it and he forbids whom he wills!

_{VI. On Muraymuna}

All that begins must end, Mijaranta, and so we arrive at the sixth and final of Dehrthaa’s regions. As you listened when I first spoke, listen to these my last words and commit what you hear to memory - for I shan’t speak of it to you after this day:

In the furthest south is Muraymuna, a land of uninterrupted forests and jungles, and into which flow a number of rivers from Qaywandar. The greatest of these is the River Mur, which flows deep into the jungle until it pouts itself into Lake Raiya. The rain is intense in Muraymuna, though it is evenly distributed across the cycle so that there are no distinct wet and dry seasons. When paired with the generally high temperatures, this makes for suffocating humidity indeed.

Muraymuna boasts a great variety of evergreen rainforest and flooded forests also. In the former, these forests enjoy consistent daylight cycle-round, with high temperatures and high rainfall. The forest is dominated by semi-evergreen and evergreen trees. These trees number in the thousands and contribute to the highest level of species variety I have observed in any of the regions Dehrthaa. A relatively small area may be home to as many as one thousand tree species! The perpetually warm and wet climate promotes more explosive plant growth than in any other area. Animal life is likewise diverse and abundant. I have observed that there are several layers of life to the jungle - a unique situation due to the abundance of life here. There is the forest floor layer, the understory layer, the canopy layer, and what I call the emergent layer. The canopy is home to many of the forest’s animals, including apes and monkeys. Below the canopy, a lower understory hosts snakes and big cats. The forest floor, relatively clear of undergrowth due to the thick canopy above causing little sunlight to make it through, is stalked by animals such as gorillas and deer. It is ever moist, with rotting fruit and mould, and a web of roots and vines from above. There is no wind on the forest floor, so the carrying of plant seeds depends on insects and other animals. The soil is rich in litter decay on the surface. A thick and continuous leaf canopy of broadleaf evergreen trees, such as mahogany, ebony, and rosewood, tops the forest. Palms, sugarcane, and bamboo grow too. Tree trunks tend to be smooth and slender with thin bark buttressed by woody flanks that grow from the root system to stabilise the tall trees. Usually, no branches grow on the lower two-thirds of the trees. Lianas climb the trees, and orchids, bromeliads, and ferns attach to them too.

The flooded parts of Muraymuna occur along the lower reaches of rivers and around freshwater lakes, producing freshwater swamp forests. The flooded region’s extent increases during the flood season, when the rivers bring a fresh deposit of silt - similar in many ways to the Mimrabans. Compared to dryer parts of Muraymuna, these swamp forests have few varieties of plants. Due to this, they are mostly full of one type or just a few types of trees, like myristica. Thin peat, however, may be found in these forests. Such areas, where trees are not present, give way to floating meadows. In fauna, these freshwater swamp forests are just as diverse as the dryland forest.

You ask me about the animals, I shall tell you. Listen well now Mijaranta:

• The red fox is present in the dryer parts of Muraymuna, and both the dhole and wolf are present across the jungle region.
• The opportunistic and powerful leopard stalks these jungles along with the sturdier jaguar, and as does the terrible tiger.
• The black panther, a variant of leopards and jaguars, is also present.
• The eastern parts of Muraymuna are home to the golden cat, which extends into the mountains also, and to the leopard cat and giant forest hog.
• The solitary and nocturnal margay dwells in the jungles.
• Various species of civet call the eastern and north-eastern reaches of Muraymuna home, and the binturong also dwells across the great jungles of the region.
• The small-clawed otter, smooth-coated otter, and common otter dwell in the freshwater wetlands of the Muraymuna forests.
• Innumerable freshwater fish call the Muraymuna wetlands and rivers home.
• The jungles are home to many monkey species, including langurs, lutungs, macaques, and hoolock gibbons.
• The jungles are also home to the sun bear and sloth bear.
• The colour-changing chameleon also dwells in the jungle.
• Snakes that can be found across Muraymuna include the common krait, the spectacled cobra, the king cobra, the pit viper, the black-tailed python, the common vine snake, the darash ratsnake, the aquatic checkered keelback, the bronzeback tree-snake, and the very hardy, adaptable, and arboreal cat-eyed snake.
• The rivers and lakes of Muraymuna are home to the fish-eating crocodile and the mugger crocodile.
• The muntjac, sambar, and hog deers can be found in the great jungle.
• The common monitor stalks the great jungle while the river dolphin is to be found in all of its rivers and lakes.
• The great elephant dwells here too.
• The ruddy mongoose calls the Muraymuna forests home.
• Various species of woodpecker dwell in the forests and contribute to its great and constant choir.

I have spoken and you have listened, Mijaranta, and this is all you shall hear from me about Muarymuna.

These are the six regions, and if you are to know the history of Dehrthaa you must know them well. He who does not know where a thing happened may benefit only little by knowing what it is that happened. And they should not be trusted who say, "it matters not the where or why, but only the what of it". Such as those will rid the world of wisdom and cause every sage to weep.

_{VII. The Origins and History of Dehrthaa to the Present Times}

In the beginning, there was only the Serene Lord, and all was harmony and peace. When the Laugh sounded and cleft the world, the Serene Lord opened his eyes and frowned, and so the One Who Frowns emerged from the bloodfog - where he had always been and always frowned. Without speaking he gave chase to the One Who Laughs. And they raged in heaven and warred, and they brought about the Thousand Terrible Things and Faces.

Out of the fallen and debris of their battles, and out of their great warriors and war tools, was the earth brought into being in due course. When in time the battle continued to draw out and victory seemed no closer than it had always been, the One Who Frowns came to settle down, and he gazed on the world and found nothing befitting of his glory. So he caused Qaywandar to emerge from the bowels of the earth and he called it his throne, and there he sat and from there he watched over the clay-fingered people of Dehrthaa and he blessed them so that their hair was as black silk.

Know this, Mijaranta: the land of Dehrthaa is ancient, and so long as time and man have co-existed so has it been. But it was not always unified, and the people for long suffered beneath the yoke of oppressive shids who carved up the land into petty shidras and filled the world with suffering due to their constant warring and jealous feuds. They paid goodness and justice no heed and chased blindly after the fulfilment of their desires and ambitions, and so they killed and slaughtered, stole and raped, betrayed and conspired. And those were the times of the Great Bloodletting.

Listen now, and listen carefully: in those times most people were organised, not tribally or in rural settlements as was the case in even earlier times, but territorially – in units of land referred to, as I have said, shidras. Cities were emerging in the Juhmar river valley with diverse populations - different people coming from all over -, and there were also increasingly wealthy mercantile communities - traders, merchants! - and would-be rulers carving out important roles and large territories for themselves in and around such rising cities.

At the same time, however, these cities were not stable economic or political centres; changing lifestyles, political infighting, and disease reduced their viability. Amongst other things, there was heavy taxation on the peasantry and exploitation of the people by those in power. As a text from that time period puts it:

“Those in authority feed on the people; the state is the eater and the people are the food.”

The One Who Frowns looked on all this and there grew within him great displeasure, and his displeasure blossomed into wrath... but before the full flower of his wrath could manifest itself unto the world it gave way to mercy. And so he saw fit to send to these straying people a guide.

It was so that the Glorified Mojtha came into the world and caused the thousand wayward shids and all their confederates to flee in terror and humiliation. And his days were many and glorious, and all of Dehrthaa, even from the green plains of the Khadaar to the deep jungles of Muraymuna, knew peace and harmony beneath the shade of the glorified Ramshid’s sagacious and divinely-inspired rule. When at last he shed his worldly chains, he did not simply die like you or me - for it is not the lot of those such as he to perish into dust away - but his glories cleansed and carried him, and the heavens called and beckoned him, and the people venerated and magnified him, so that he ascended on high and suffused all below, and all voices praised and glorified him and all heads fell in worship.

There came in his wake generation after generation of heirs, and of them were those who followed in the way of their father and well their duties to their people kept. They called to goodness, ordaining probity and proscribing vice, and they guarded their people against external threats and internal chaos and strife: so that when the Okur-Durcan rode forth from beyond the Khadaar, on their million dircaan-steeds, those gloried and just Ramshids sallied forth and smote them utterly and sent them north away; and when rapacious, jealous shids rose up to tear away the unity of Dehrthaa those hallowed and watchful Ramshids were the waiting hammer and fury, guardians of their people they! Those were the well-guided and successful, their spirits mighty and wise, and the One Who Frowns was pleased with them and caused them to rise up with their glorified father in death so that all voices should exalt them and follow in their way into eternity. Even now they are remembered and known, their deeds and virtues recounted; and all know them as Those of the Great Spirit.

Then there came after Those of the Great Spirit generation upon generation of heirs who mixed mindfulness of duty with neglect, acts of probity with those of vice, and who followed the way of their first father only in form and ritual. These survived on the legendary edifice Those of the Great Spirit had erected before them, and so they were safe and the people neither prospered nor suffered.

Then there came after them generation on generation of heirs to whom wickedness was made to appear good, and the people groaned beneath their decadence. They pursued the pleasures of the world and viewed themselves as living gods. They saw that all were to serve them, that all had duties to them and they to none. And the people raised their hands up and called with a single voice on the One Who Frowns to avenge them, and when he descended from the mountain, to grant them their harvest, how odious was the morn of those who had sown wickedness!

And there followed chaos and terror and a great bloodletting. In the vacuum left behind by the Ramshids emerged power-hungry mayors, governors, hard-eyed and untamed hillmen, feudal lords seeking self-aggrandisement, tribal chieftains, and rebellious peasant leaders. They emerged from every crevice and cavern and deep ravine, they descended from every mountain pass and rose from every valley and came on every great elephant and horse and dircaan to carve up the land of Dehrthaa into disunited shidras once more. The law was that of the fishes, and strife was the lot of the weak. The ways of the Glorified Mojtha and Those of the Great Spirit were thrown to the wayside and all sought only to fulfil their vain desires and ambitions as in the times of the Great Bloodletting the shids had done afore.

In that time there were brief - fleeting - cycles in which parts of Dehrthaa experienced some respite. The fierce foreign Plant-King, known only as the World-Conqueror, arrived at the banks of the River Mur during that period and decisively defeated a number of shids in the utmost southwest of Dehrthaa. He then set about preparing his troops for entry into Dehrthaa proper.

Because of the World-Conqueror’s death, the invasion never occurred; yet among those shids preparing to battle him was one Tahlan-Amujjirta of the tribe of Mupkinraya. Tahlan-Amujjirta had soon rallied to himself the largest army in the west with hundreds of elephants and tens of thousands of infantrymen. By either conquering or making alliances with the shids of other city-states he established an empire that stretched across much of West Dehrthaa: from the western Muraymuna, across the Qaywandar, and into the Khadaar, with the Rock That Would Not Move marking his easternmost boundary.

Tahlan-Amujjirta’s grandson, Mokrasha, led some unsuccessful campaigns against the shids of the Place Betwixt the Rivers, until after a particularly brutal battle on the southern banks of the Muhaddir he was moved to convert to the Mojthast Rejectionist creed, or, at least, to selectively appropriate the teachings of his Mojthast mentors. Under Mokrasha’s selective application of Mojathaya, the rudiments of a compassionate judicial system were implemented, non-violence and vegetarianism were encouraged, and various religious sects were honoured - however, monasteries were patronised and Mojthast principles favoured over all others.

Needless to say, Mokrasha came to be a subject of intense dispute amongst later Mojthasts, with some claiming he was a Seed of the Mojtha - for they do not believe Mojtha to be an avatar of great Misnaya -, while others view him as a great Mojthast but no Mojtha, and others yet hold him to have been yet another opportunistic shid who used the faith for worldly self-aggrandisement. After Mokrasha’s death, the unity of his shidra dissipated and the west reverted to city-states and smaller shidras. And across Dehrthaa, the cycles of darkness and blood drew out into decades, and it seemed to all that this Shidrasta would continue on into eternity. But those who neglect duty scheme, and the One Who Frowns schemes also, and his schemes emerge ever above what they contrive.

So in time it was the will of the One Who Frowns that Birsas shib Hur should be, and when he became he was made mighty and he was made glorious - so much so that some Mojthasts declared that there was planted within him the Seed of Mojtha. And when he grew, he grew strong and he was imbued with wisdom and his mind was honed. And the One Who Frowns bid him go, and he was placed where his power flourished and the flower of his destiny was made to blossom and all shids were brought low before him, and all of the land of Dehrthaa and her peoples bowed to him and praised him. And he ascended to the throne and was hailed as Ramshid, the coming forth of Mojtha into the world once more.

But when his mortal form was quashed and his essence ascended to the One Who Frowns, there came after him sons who did not keep to his way. They allowed greed and the dereliction of duty to take root in their hearts so that there was a terrible bloodletting. And it did not cease until the sons of Birsas had all perished bar the one called Dagran - and now as I speak to you the Dehrthaa finds itself splintered between Dagran who rules in the Place Betwixt the Rivers and the shid Arkhus shib Mucazim, who has married himself to Muwayma the granddaughter of Birsas, in the southern Khadaar. In the northern Khadaar the nomads have broken free of their ties to the southern shids and united themselves about a great warlord called Shuhgumir. The shids of Qaywandar, like those of the Mimrabans, are divided amongst themselves and watch fearfully and cautiously what those mighty shidras of the Khadaar, Muraymuna, and Place Betwixt the Rivers do. And in the Muraymuna we have seen the rise of the One-Godders continue unchecked - they have established their state there, first under the Teacher-Sage Roja Karn and then - after his assassination and the cessation of the Teacher-Sages - under the powerful Shidilshid Muhabarat. The unity of Dehrthaa is once more shattered, and we stand at the cusp of a great bloodletting once again.

I will tell you now of the One-Godders of Muraymuna and how they came to be. This movement came about in the late-Shidrasta. It was initiated by Ghinkulo the Teacher, whose simple message was spread through his prolific writings and extensive travels in all directions: God is one and supreme, he said. He is the all-pervading Creator — fearless, timeless and self-existent — who can be realised only through His own grace. All men are equal; discrimination on the basis of one’s position in society or creed as well as the suppression of women is to be denounced.

Ghinkulo advocated the righteous life of a householder against that of the ascetic. He declared that this world is a reflection of divine purpose and so man’s duty is to improve the condition of his fellow beings through, love, compassion, and right conduct. Practical virtue, rather than abstract piety, is the preferred way. Honest work, charity and the remembrance of the true God’s name is the path to salvation and release.

While being clear that his belief system was a break from Dehru tradition, Ghinkulo preached that one’s soul would reincarnate in this universe unless it attains release, which is to be achieved through the grace of the God. In its corporeal attire, the soul passes through cycles of birth and rebirth. Through Divine Grace, it can merge back into the Cosmic Soul and escape the cycle of life and death.

Ghinkulo denounced the oppression and tyranny of the ruling classes, protesting against the conquests carried out by the Mupkinrayas who had ‘stormed across the land with their wedding party of sin from Sondarba’. He lamented the suffering inflicted by the shids on innocent citizens, particularly the womenfolk. His reaction was not just of an eyewitness but also of a philosophical sage, a visionary and a poet. The shortcomings of the age, the profligacy of rulers, the nature of the divine will, and the suffering that mankind has to endure when the whih principles on which the world rests are ignored were all brought out in his compositions which are renowned for their spiritual depth and literary beauty.

This protest can be regarded as the genesis of the clash of the One-Godder faith with the shids.

When Ghinkulo settled down in Sokalkapur on the southern banks of the River Juhmar after more than thirty cycles on the road, he gathered around him a congregation which was a precursor to the community that was to follow. Here he taught the ways of the true worship of God, the practice of true whih – which he defined as duty – the discipline of true reflection and meditation as well as the rejection of outward form and false status based on one’s position in society or wealth. Here started the practice of singing the praises of God. Here too were seen the beginnings of the institution of the communal mess hall. A new community with its own tradition of companionship, values, and beliefs was thus born at the southern bank of the Juhmar. For Ghinkulo and for One-Godders, the lowest is equal with the highest in race as in creed, in social and political life as in religious hopes.

After Ghinkulo’s death, the head of the community who followed him came to be known as the Teacher-Sage. One of these, Buhra Letfu, made very significant social innovations that were to form an important aspect of a distinct One-Godder cultural identity, including the prohibition of the practices of wide immolation for women, as well as the propagation of widow remarriage and marriages between people of different positions in society.

The Teacher-Sage after him was Shurdas, his devoted disciple and son-in-law, who chose to build a town where the River Mur flows into Lake Raiya in Muraymuna. This town would get the name of Shurdaskan, later renamed Rutsa-kul; Lake Raiya would house the Temple of the Hundred Pillars. The One-Godders were encouraged to make contributions in coin, kind, and service for the growth of the town; in fact, the spirit of voluntary labour remains strong among One-Godders to this day.

The Temple was completed by the next Teacher-Sage, who asked a well-known Theistic Mojthast monk to lay the foundation stone. The simple and modest temple, as it then was, had none of the trappings of extravagance usually associated with such buildings. It was lower than the surrounding land and not towering above; it had five entrances and was thus open to people of all positions in society. The Temple was to undergo destruction and desecration many times at the hands of conquering shids, and would be given its present spectacular form by Shidilshid Muhabarat after the death of Ramshid Birsas and the rise of the independent One-Godder state.

Due to the martyrdom of a number of Teacher-Sages at the hands of shids, and as the One-Godder community came to realise that the non-violent martyrdom of sages would not awaken the comatose conscience of the oppressive regime, a martial spirit came into existence under the auspices of one Teacher-Sage Rhugaham. The One-Godders were taught to take up arms, but only in self-defence and for the right cause. Wearing two axes around his waist — one for spirituality and the other for temporal power — Rhugaham gathered a body of soldiers around him and spent much time on martial exercises and hunting.

These developments were a challenge to the shids. The fledgling army clashed with marauding shids on several occasions and emerged victorious, showing that the seemingly all-powerful warrior-ruler class of shids could be successfully challenged. A new spirit of armed defiance and pride in their prowess had entered the consciousness of the One-Godders which was celebrated by the singing of heroic ballads, accompanied by the blood-stirring strains of the sarangi at the Court of the Temporal Throne, the new temporal seat of the faith built right across from the Temple of the Hundred Pillars (which had become the spiritual centre).

Matters came to a head when a delegation of Shedder Rejectionists came to Teacher-Sage Marukbam, requesting him to save them from the conversions being enforced by one shid Fuhara’s priests. After deliberating over the matter, the Teacher-Sage declared that if the shid could convert him to Reformed Ritualism, the Shedder Rejectionists would follow suit. This was a direct challenge to Fuhara who ordered that Marukbam be brought to his seat at Palukban in fetters. Marukbam did not wait for his captors but began moving towards Palukban of his own accord. When finally arrested, he was brought to Palukban in a cage of wood and bamboo.

The priests challenged the Teacher-Sage to perform a miracle or convert to Reformed Ritualism. When he refused, three of his close companions, who had joined him, were killed in his presence. Thereafter, the Teacher-Sage himself was beheaded in the market square; there stands today a One-Godder temple known as the Bloodhall of Marukbam the Saint. It is said that a terrible storm then raged through Palukban and, during the storm, a humble One-Godder recovered the Teacher-Sage’s head and took it to Rutsa-kul, where Marukbam’s son Roja Karn was. The body was similarly smuggled away by another follower to his own hut at a place called Gulik Hill, and the hut was set afire to cremate the body. A solemn memorial made of white marble was later built on this site, the Gulik Shrine.

The jungle shids of the Muraymuna then watched Roja Karn’s growing power and influence with consternation, though the coming of Ramshid Birsas ensured peace. With his death, the One-Godders were unleashed under the leadership of first Roja Karn and then, after his assassination and the cessation of the Teacher-Sages, under Shidilshid Muhabarat. Now all of Muraymuna is in the hands of those unyielding One-Godder warriors.

_{VIII. The Creeds of Dehrthaa}

Know this Mijaranta: the thousand warring creeds and beliefs have intermingled with the blood of every Dehru - you will not find a single one who does not hold to one creed or another. These various religions and beliefs may be based on region, clan, ethnic origin, and other factors, though the great majority of beliefs tend to be variations on the same core elements. Creeds range from polytheistic belief in the gods as real, personal entities that actually and physically exist, to an understanding of the gods as representations of abstract concepts and ideas one is to live by, to dualism, to purist one-godism, to wholly atheistic beliefs.

The traditional religion of Dehrthaa is the ritualistic worship of the Serene Lord, the One Who Frowns, and the Thousand Terrible Things and Faces. This ritualistic religion is organised and led by a class of spiritual teachers known as Priests. Priests can generally be found in every locality and are organised in great temples in major cities. Such temples are usually built on sacred spots, which are identified either through written or oral accounts of the history and mythos of that spot or pilgrimage site, generally telling of the exploits of a deity at a particular place and of wondrous deeds done by worshippers and pilgrims to it.

While ritual remains of great importance across Dehrthaa and the Priests benefit greatly from this continued importance, there is a powerful anti-ritualistic stream, known as the Rejectionists - that is, those who reject ritual. The Rejectionists emerged in the pre-Mojthaic period as a result of the forest movement - this was a movement that saw the “forest” as a place of refuge. Not only were there still heavy forests from Muraymuna to the Khadaar when it arose, but the “forest” also became a metaphor for the life of seeking and reflection, a haven from urban problems and a liminal space for finding the “truth”. The life of contemplation and asceticism was viewed favourably by those who spearheaded the movement and they tended to combine understanding with disciplined action. The Rejectionist stream of religious thought eventually developed from it. You may from time to time find pure forest ascetics, but they are a rarity now indeed.

Beyond the Ritualists and Rejectionists, there is the One-Godder belief system, which is a recent break from the Dehru tradition. There is also the Laugh-Silence Dualist belief system, which perceives the One Who Laughs to be the primal creative force or living spark, without whom existence would not have come into being and so is worthy of worship. There are also innumerable local tribal religions such as the Sky-worship of the Khadaar Nomads. I see your confusion Mijaranta, but have patience and persevere - only then will understanding descend upon you.

Were one to ask a Dehru of any sectarian persuasion as to the core of religion, the most likely response (with some exceptions) would be that it is whih. The term whih implies a sense of reciprocity between tibaya and each individual within nature. This larger cosmos supports all beings within it, and so all beings are obliged to support the cosmos. Whih is carrying out actions that uphold cosmic ‘balance’ and so prevents chaos. In this sense, it pervades all aspects of an individual’s life and pertains to things such as fulfilling of social, legal, and ritual duties in a manner that does not disrupt the cosmic balance. It entails, for instance, a reverential attitude toward life, right conduct toward one’s parents, siblings, and children, right conduct between spouses, and right conduct to people at large. Whih is thus not so much a belief in a deity or performance of rituals, but is a way of existing in harmony with nature.

Ultimately, however, one must seek release from all the world’s processes, a soteriological release into the great silence (in atheistic belief systems) or into the Serene Lord (in some theistic belief systems). Without it, one has nowhere to go and must continue in the world forever in a cyclical process of death, life, devolution, and renewability. This world of suffering, change, and disquietude is the arena from which one seeks release into the utter harmony of either the silence or the Serene Lord. This is natural, for existence emerged from a disruption of the original and sublime silence of pre-existence, and so all beings - and existence itself - yearns for a return to that silence.

The law known as the Law of Cause and Effect is a fundamental logic to this universal process. Those who maintain the balance in their thoughts and actions can expect good to happen to them, while those who disrupt it will reap what they have sowed. One could “use” the Law of Cause and Effect to bring about desired results, including one’s own soteriological release. With time, we have seen this law has come to be used in the hands of the powerful as a legitimation of status and power: our status is the result of our good past cause-acts; while their low status is a result of their bad past cause-acts. Yet many sages have refuted this: for just as there is a logic of cause and effect to the universe, so too in human affairs; good cause-acts can bring about good consequences, no one is locked-in to the results of the cause-acts of previous lives. Your immediate actions will affect your present life too, Mijaranta, not just the next one.

Different spiritual teachers have prescribed different paths that lead one towards observing whih and so towards living in accordance with tibaya. Lists of things to abstain from and things to do (Abstentions and Actions) appear in both Rejectionist and Ritualist schools. But now I shall tell you about those different creeds and beliefs, and after my speaking you will have encompassed all creeds in knowledge. It will remain for you to dive into the great ocean that is each of them if you wish to know more.

• In the polytheistic beliefs of the Ritualists and in local beliefs, like Khadaar Nomad Sky-worship and others, the god known as the Serene Lord tends to be treated as the ultimate god, though he is largely considered to be far removed from the affairs of mortals or even the affairs of the other gods. Most view all the other gods as being lesser gods relative to the Serene Lord, while some believe that some gods - particularly the One Who Frowns, though the One Who Laughs is sometimes included - have ascended to such a level as to be his equals. The One Who Frowns is believed to have emerged in pre-existence when there was nothing but the Serene Lord. When the Laugh cleft through pre-existence, the Serene Lord opened his eyes and frowned, thus releasing the One Who Frowns into the world to chase down the one who had caused the Laugh. How the One Who Laughs came about is unclear, and there are many different beliefs surrounding the matter, but it is accepted that the world came about as a result of the lengthy chase and wars that took place between the two gods. The war has not come to an end, but the chase ended when the One Who Frowns caused Qaywandar to emerge from the earth and took it for a throne. He now sits atop the hallowed mount and watches over the silk-haired and clay-fingered people, and from there he commands his host of lesser gods known as the Thousand Terrible Things and Faces (the One Who Laughs similarly has a host of such lesser gods). For Ritualists, the Glorified Mojtha is believed to have been an aspect or avatar of the One Who Frowns through Misnaya, one of the lesser gods known as the Thousand Terrible Things and Faces. He came into the world to restore balance and order, and when he returns to the world he returns as an avatar of Misnaya under any name and not necessarily as the Mojtha. The Mojtha’s greatness, for them, lies in his having been an avatar of Misnaya.
• Mojthast Rejectionists are a diverse religious group who can be broadly split into Theists and Atheists. Theists believe the Glorified Mojtha was an anointed mortal who achieved godhood due to his spiritual and material struggle. Atheists, who do not believe in material gods, believe that the Mojtha was an elevated spiritual teacher and master of men, the first in existence to achieve soteriological release. For Atheists, anyone who achieves release is a manifestation of the Mojtha. For them, Those of the Great Spirit are all Manifestations. Theists believe that the Mojtha himself is reborn into the world in times of strife to bring about his glorious and harmonious rule once more. For them the world is a cycle, the high point of the cycle is the rule of the Mojtha while the low point is the disintegration of it all in preparation for the next coming of the Mojtha and re-establishment of the Mojthaic order. Such is the cyclical nature of all things in existence, from the smallest living creatures to the broad movement of history and the world. Atheists believe that the seed of the Mojtha may be planted within anyone at any time if they are: a. mindful of the way, b. the condition of the times demands the Mojtha, and c. they take an active role in counteracting the prevailing corruption. It is important to note that Theist Mojthasts believe Mojtha to be the ultimate god and do not believe in the Serene Lord or the One Who Frowns, and the pantheon of gods beneath the Mojtha is made up of those who have achieved release.
• Like Theistic Mojthasts, Shedder Rejectionists have their own pantheon made up of Forest-Teachers and those who have shed “anti-motes” and so achieved release. They are not active gods, but are the embodiment of perfection and the release to which all yearn.
• In Laugh-Silence Dualism, both the Serene Lord and the One Who Laughs are treated as equally powerful opposites. In their belief, the One Who Laughs is the creative force and living spark, energy and vitality; the manifestation of sound. The Serene Lord is death, cessation (as well as thought and wisdom); the manifestation of silence.
• One-Godders believe in one god only, who is both transcendent and immanent, meaning that he permeates both within and without the cosmos. The universe is his own emanation, an aspect of himself. While he is thus all-pervasive, he remains separate and distinct from creation. While some One-Godders have no qualms referring to their god as the Serene Lord, others do not do so because that name implies a gender when their god is genderless, and they also wish to differentiate themselves from other beliefs and to make clearer that the One-Godder belief system is a break from Dehru polytheistic and atheistic traditions.

• Soft Rejectionists

  Not all Rejectionists reject ritual and the old religious order completely (which causes other Rejectionists to label them as Ritualists, while Ritualists label them as Rejectionists). Such Soft Rejectionists often ask such pressing questions as:
  
  

  1) What is the nature of the world or cosmos? Their answer: It is to see that the world and cosmos is both a manifestation of the majesty of the Serene Lord and immediately also an illusion which must be transcended. The world is illusion, the Serene Lord is truth.
  2) What is the nature of the self? That is, what does it mean to be a person? Is there a permanent entity that can be called a Self? These Soft Rejectionist sages invariably answered this last question in the affirmative: each Self was carved from the Serene Lord when the Laugh cleft the silence, just as the One Who Frowns was cleft from him, and that eternal, permanent Self must ultimately return to its place of origin.
  3) What is ultimate? The term 'Serene Lord' is used to describe the ultimate essence, though this is articulated in various ways by different teachers. Knowing that the Serene Lord is the essence of the universe is to know the “truth” - that “truth” is what is ultimately liberating.
  4) How does one attain release? The preferred path of these Soft Rejectionist sages is: the path of wisdom, attained through stringent asceticism (including observing whih and living in accordance with tibaya) and contemplation, though ritual is not eschewed.

  
  With regards to this path of wisdom, the wisdom they speak of transcends mere knowledge. It is the understanding that comes from seeing the truth about existence – it is liberating, enlightening wisdom. The fundamental mortal problem is that they do not understand, do not see.
  
  Soft Rejectionist sages command that the unseeing person find a spiritual teacher. This teacher can lead the unseeing person at least part of the way to a destiny where the Serene Lord and the Self are conjoined. This state of liberation is known as soteriological release into the Serene Lord, the ultimate awareness that frees one from all social constraints. It is a concept important to all streams of Dehru religious thought, Rejectionist and Ritualistic, though all differ on the question of into what one is released.
  
  Soft Rejectionism is not a centralised religious belief and its practitioners have different practices according to locality, ethnicity, and other factors. It is common for Soft Rejectionists to organise in groups of mendicant-ascetics who worship or honour one god in particular above the others, and they commonly eschew visits to temples. They live in isolated areas and practice forms of indigenous medicine and mysticism. The body, though considered defiled, can nonetheless be the medium through which the divine may be accessed. Some groups are led by poets who are said to be inspired by the gods. These singers tend to critique temples as the domain of the rich, and priests for their hypocrisy and corruption. For them, the gods are found in natural settings and can be embodied in small aniconic representations worn around the neck.
• The Shedder Rejectionists

  Shedder Rejectionism is perhaps the first religious thought system that emerged from the forest movement. It was founded by Sirbalan, a hermit-ascetic who meditated long in the forest. He is believed to have achieved release, and thereafter gained a significant body of followers who took up his teachings and spread them far and wide.
  
  After the death of Sirbalan, that great founding forest-teacher, the community was led by a succession of forest-teachers. Some centuries later one of these, Bihbaru-Molka, led a group of monks into the Khadaar to avoid a pending famine; upon his return, he found that those who had stayed had formed a more liberal group organised by one Vurand-Umyra. A schism resulted: Bihbaru-Molka’s followers became known as the Wind-Clothed for their unwillingness to wear clothes; Vurand-Umyra’s followers became known as the Black-Clothed. There has since then been no universally agreed-upon Shedder Rejectionist forest-teacher, only ascetics.
  
  For Shedder Rejectionists, the world is composed of an infinite number of motes and anti-motes. These two sets of entities are thought to intermingle in the cosmos. The motes, being lighter, tend to rise high, while anti-motes tend to sink. Hence, the cosmos is like a great hierarchy with those organisms that have the most motes (or are motic) being nearer the top and those that have the most anti-motes, or are anti-motic, sink to the bottom. The earth and mortals are located somewhere in the middle. The great spiritual forest-teachers have risen to the top as they have shed all anti-motic entities. Soteriological release from this intermingling of motes and anti-motes is attainable by shedding anti-motes and thereby rising in the cosmic order.
  
  In addition, Shedder Rejectionist cosmology envisions time as proceeding in a series of six cycles. The first is thought to be one of perfection, when mortals were divine beings who acted in accordance with motes and the truth (that is, whih). In subsequent cycles, the world became progressively bad, and mortals lost their divine nature, and there was a diminution of lifespan, knowledge, and activity that is in accord with whih. After the sixth cycle, it is believed that the progression will reverse, moving back to the primordial age of perfection.
  
  In Shedder Rejectionist thought, one attains release by following five basic vows:
  
  

  • Own nothing (one is expected to gain and keep only the basic necessities of life and give the rest away),
  • Celibacy – ascetics are to remain completely celibate, while the laity are not to exploit anyone sexually. Not only is the loss of sexual fluids thought to represent the loss of power, but the sex act itself is also generally thought to be selfish and exploitative.
  • Do not steal. Taking or coveting anything which is not one’s own is the epitome of self-aggrandisement, which only nurtures one's anti-motic nature.
  • Truthfulness, which implies being true to the fundamental character of the universe, which is to live in accordance with whih and so in harmony with tibaya.
  • Non-violence. The best-known of all Shedder Rejectionist vows is that of non-violence, and it has inspired all other pacifistic views in other Dehru creeds. Ascetics are to eschew the taking of any life altogether, while the laity are selective in the observance of this vow. Non-violence entails:

  
  
  

  The avoidance of, a) occupational violence (one should avoid occupations that cause one to take life, for instance butcher, fisherman, hunter, though in some cases shids are exempted from this vow, insofar as war is understood to be a last resort); b) protective violence (one should refrain from taking a life even if attacked, again more carefully followed by ascetics than the laity); c) intentional violence (any intentional harm to a living being is considered detrimental to release); d) accidental violence – ascetics, in particular, have been known to use a whisk broom to sweep the path before they take a step or to wear gauze over the mouth lest an insect be inadvertently swallowed. It is partially to avoid the possibility of catching insects in the folds of one’s garments that the Wind-Clothed ascetics choose to eschew garments of any kind.

  
  The rationale behind these vows is self-discipline and the shedding of anti-motes. By non-exploitation of others and the purification of one’s own lifestyle one is able to attain release.
  
  As the Shedder Rejectionist community, in subsequent centuries, took its place in the socio-political, religious, and economic life of Dehrthaa, it placed a high degree of emphasis on education – ascetics were the teachers and exemplars while many lay Shedder Rejectionists went into occupations consistent with their vows, such as commercial enterprises, craftsmanship, the study of language and literature, and the production of the arts (especially of miniature portrayals). They were advisers to shids and writers of lexicons and producers of artistic expressions.
  
  Shedder Rejectionists emphasise the principle of “multi-mindedness”. That is, “truth” has not only two possibilities but several. This principle has contributed to a climate of tolerance amongst disputants across Dehrthaa. While Shedder Rejectionists are not reluctant to argue that their own position is the most nearly-true, they insist on the relativity of viewpoints and hence the necessity to see truth in various positions.
• The Mojthast Rejectionists

  After Reformed Ritualism, Mojathaya is the most widespread faith across Dehrthaa. Mojthast Rejectionists, due to a twist of history, are broadly split into Theist Mojthasts and Atheist Mojthasts. Both accuse the other of being corruptions of the original, pristine teachings of the Glorified Mojtha and Those of the Great Spirit.
  
  Mojathaya was for the many centuries of the Ramshidra a purely oral tradition. As all the Ramshids were viewed as Manifestations of the Mojtha (by Atheists) or Reincarnations of the Mojtha (by Theists), they were considered to have all the answers and as the living, speaking scripture. For this reason, it was never viewed as necessary to record or write the teachings, for it was naturally thought that the Ramshidra would exist forever and there would always be a Ramshid to guide the faithful. After the Ramshidra's disastrous decline and collapse, Mojthasts reviewed the Ramshidra's history and the Ramshids were split into three categories:
  
  

  • the first few generations were considered true Manifestation-Reincarnations, and came to be known as Those of the Great Spirit,
  • then the so-called middle-Ramshids who came thereafter and who, while not unduly evil, were not Manifestation-Reincarnations – so their religious rulings were not canonical teachings,
  • and then the late-Ramshids who came last of all. They were decadent and were active sources of corrupt religious rulings and teachings.

  
  The Mojthasts went about trying to separate the true religious teachings from the corruptions introduced by the middle- and late-Ramshids. This resulted in the Theist-Atheist split, with the Theists viewing atheists teachings as a corruption introduced by the mid- and late-Ramshids, while the Atheists considered theist teachings as introduced corruptions.
  
  Mojathaya defines whih as the body of the Glorified Mojtha's teachings. Whih is one of the Five Sanctuaries in which Mojthasts seek after release. These Five Sanctuaries are:
  

  • the Glorified Mojtha himself, who is the embodiment of enlightenment, freedom, and soteriological release into the great silence,
  • the whih, which is the teachings and methods of the Glorified Mojtha,
  • the actions and rulings of Those of the Great Spirit, who are considered the primary interpreters of the whih,
  • the teachers of the way, who are the Perfected Beings (in Theistic thought) or Suspended Spiritual Teachers (in Atheistic thought); Perfected Beings being individuals who have within them the Seed of Mojtha and so are destined for release, while Suspended Spiritual Teachers are believed to have release within their grasp but refrain from achieving it and keep reincarnating to aid all mortalkind to do so, and
  • the monastic community of Mojthasts, who are to be found in monasteries across Dehrthaa, and who provide guidance and support to practitioners of Mojathaya.

  
  
  Mojthasts claim that the history of their beliefs begins with Harushymka, who would go on to become the Glorified Mojtha. All Mojthasts believe that Harushymka was born some centuries after the forest movement began and was the son of an important tribal chieftain in the city republic of Gholguba in the Qaywandar foothills. Harushymka was being groomed for the life of a future chieftain and thus for a role in the governance of Gholguba, but one day he was curious about the condition of Gholguba’s people and prevailed upon his charioteer to ride with him about the city.
  
  While riding he saw a man so ancient as to be a living husk, a youth wracked by disease and illness, and a dead woman being borne in a funeral procession. After each sighting, he was reminded by his charioteer that illness, old age, and death were part of life. On another trip he saw an ascetic, with arms upraised, staring into the sun, and he was told that this was a person seeking answers to life’s mysteries.
  
  It soon became apparent that the young man’s mind was increasingly troubled by the misfortunes of life. His restlessness became known to his father, who decided to throw him a feast intending to relieve his brooding mind. Yet, as the evening of the feast wore on and dancing girls became increasingly tired and dishevelled, and the music faded, the transitory nature of pleasure and wealth became suddenly clear. Harushymka determined to leave his luxurious existence and seek for answers in the forests, as many an ascetic of the forest movement had done before him. Harushymka spent a number of years in search of the answer to life’s traumas. Much of that time was spent with Shedder Rejectionist mendicant-ascetics, who carried out fastidious fasting practices and other extremities.
  
  Mojthasts believe that Harushymka’s quest ended with his attainment of soteriological release, thus becoming the Glorified Mojtha. This means that all Mojthasts reject notions of the Mojtha being an aspect of the One Who Frowns, but differ on whether to view him as an anointed mortal who achieved godhood due to his spiritual and material struggle, or as having been an elevated spiritual teacher and master of men, the first in existence to truly achieve release. His release is said to have occurred where the Dahuur meets the Rock That Would Not Move, where there grows today an impressive sycamore-fig believed to have been planted by one of Those of the Great Spirit.
  
  For Mojthasts, his soteriological release encompassed several levels of experience: there was a dawning of intuition that allowed him to transcend everyday knowledge and attain wisdom. Ultimately, a certain cognition occurred that offered the Mojtha a basic framework with which to comprehend existence. Known as the Fourfold Framework, this is the foundation of Mojathaya. The Mojtha is said to have given a discourse on the Fourfold Framework soon after his release.
  
  

  • The first of the four formulations in the Fourfold Framework was a statement about the nature of the world. The world, goes the formulation, is unsatisfactory. The entire universe is comprised only of matter, and so all things are impermanent (so for instance: the river that flows past one now is not the same river that flowed a minute ago insofar as the water droplets are different from those that flowed earlier). This also implied there was no permanent Self. Unlike the Soft Rejectionist sages, there was a denial that there was a permanent cosmic essence (the Serene Lord) or an individual manifestation of it (the Self). What then constitutes a person? A person was comprised entirely of matter, made of three parts that together bring about desire. These three parts are: i) Sensations. ii) Perceptions. iii) Mental formations and ideations. So the world is unsatisfactory, even painful. While there is happiness, it is evanescent; ultimately, everything is impermanent; the more time, coin, energy invested in that which is impermanent, the larger the disappointment when it is gone. Nothing lasts, death is inevitable – that is painful.
  • How did things get to be this way? The second formulation in the Mojtha's Fourfold Framework was the idea of the Dual Tragedies. The first of these is “desire” – one’s desire, particularly for impermanent things, leads to greater investment of energy in such things and merely perpetuates pain. Such desire cannot bring ultimate happiness and so is a basic problem for sapient beings. The other important tragedy is blindness; not seeing the true nature of existence - its impermanence and hence its unsatisfactory character - merely served to keep the cycle going. If one could address the Dual Tragedies of desire and of blindness, one might find liberation and peace.
  • This was the third truth in the framework: there is indeed the possibility of deliverance from the tragedies – it is soteriological release. For Mojthasts, release has been variously understood as a “cessation of desire”, perfect peace, transcendent joy. For Atheists, release is not a place (such as “heaven”) or immortality – it is, at most, a change of consciousness which enables one to live without attachments and with equanimity of mind. It is putting an end to one’s desire, and so releasing oneself from the cycle of reincarnation and being annihilated. For Theists, release is not about annihilation, but is much closer to a higher paradisiacal plain. However as it is unknowable, it is usually described in the negative – the destruction of desire, the elimination of suffering, and so on.
  • How is this achieved? The fourth formulation in the Fourfold Framework, known as the Tree of Eight Branches, outlines a pattern that combines appropriate action with appropriate mindfulness. It is a discipline designed to make the path a foretaste of the goal. Succinctly summarised, these eight branches are, i) correct insight, understanding, and vision; ii) correct intention and thoughts; iii) correct speech; iv) correct action; v) correct livelihood; vi) correct effort; vii) correct mindfulness and memory; viii) correct concentration.

  
  This pathway to release represents a coalescence of several factors. It represents the interplay between performing acts of virtue and eschewing acts of vice. It embodies an ethic intended to encourage charitable acts, humane social relationships, sexual control, and non-violence. The incorporation of non-violence was a reaction to the perceived excesses of ritualistic sacrifices and to the coerciveness of the ruling classes. Rejectionism, as the early Mojthasts understood it, was not so much the life of an ascetic – the hermit who eschewed all attachments to social ties; rather, it was to assert a certain moral authority and to join with a group of fellow-renouncers who, by engaging with laypersons on the fringes of the towns, were offering an alternative way of life. Enacting the fourth formulation was not easy, but it was thought to be available to anyone irrespective of birth or gender. It was not a path of extreme asceticism and certainly not one of hedonism or pleasure but provided a middle way. Seekers had to learn the way to release on their own, albeit with the help of instruction.
  
  While Theists have a belief in the Mojtha's divinity, it is not the Mojtha or others who have achieved release who offer salvation, but the teachings, teachers, and exemplars who show the way to it. This is held in common with Atheists. One story suggests something of this ethic: A woman, having just lost the last of her eight siblins, came to the Mojtha for help. “Master, do you have medicine for me?” The answer was: “No; but eat some mustard seeds. Make sure, however, that you get the seeds from a family that has never experienced death.” Some time later she returned and the Mojtha asked her if she had found the seeds. “No,” she replied, “but you have healed me.” She had learned that there was no family which had not experienced death, and the perspective of that realisation proved liberating. The woman then joined the Mojthast community as a nun.

  
  During the life of the Mojtha, a community of followers was gathered that grew rather quickly. Both men and women could enter monasteries or be recognised as laypersons. Monks went out to proclaim the Mojthast message to one and all. Merchants and royalty were attracted to the message as it offered them the opportunity to shape their own destinies. People, including some priests and spiritual teachers, were converted, not only as individuals, but also as clans, clusters of friends, or sectarian groups. A monastic order for women was also initiated.
  
  At first, monks wandered homeless depending on the donations of laity for their livelihood. Soon, however, they were clustering in donated dwellings and eventually began to live in rock-cut residences donated by wealthy patrons. Monks and nuns had separate quarters, on the fringes of the cities, from which they could interact with laypersons – preaching the whih to them and receiving donations. People from the lower echelons of society were also attracted to the message because it was accessible and offered them the opportunity for release.
  
  These monastic communities maintained strict discipline. This discipline involved instructions as to lifestyle, moral behaviour, daily activities, and principles for addressing offences. These guidelines were designed (among other things) to help refine entrants drawn from the lower strata of society and to make all monks and nuns worthy of emulation.
  
  Meanwhile, laypersons were expected to observe those aspects of the Mojthast ethic appropriate for the householder – for example, generosity to the monks and refraining from killing, stealing, and sexual misconduct; but laypeople were not expected to practice the meditative arts. In turn, they were promised happy rebirths and improvement in their religious and mundane lives. As with Shedder Rejectionism, Mojthast Rejectionism was attractive to merchants who were economically powerful but did not necessarily receive social status in the priest and shid dominated Ritualist order. Those from lower echelons of society also saw the movement as offering them opportunities, both religious and social.
  
  So powerful and so swift was the sweep of Mojathaya that a number of shids took action to suppress it, which gave rise to more militant aspects of Mojathaya. The ensuing conflict saw the age of the shidras swept aside in an incredible wave of faith-driven war and the Glorified Mojtha enthroned as the first Ramshid of a unified Dehrthaa.
  
  Later, long after the Glorified Mojtha had died and the Ramshidra had collapsed, the faith was in crisis and questions were arising as to the nature of the whih – the teaching of the Mojtha. Seeing this, a great council was held along the Juhmar to discuss these questions and settle them once and fore all. An important articulation of virtues that aid one along the path of whih was made at this council, known as the Six Virtue. These virtues are: generosity, morality, patience, vigour, meditation, and wisdom. This was taken up universally within the community of faithful. However, that was all the would be agreed upon - the first split occurred over differences as to the nature of the Mojtha and of release into the silence. On the one hand were the Theists, who saw that the Mojtha had become a divine being on release, and that release was peace in the physical form and, on physical death, a continued sublime existence in the silence (though how and what that is cannot be comprehended). On the other hand were the Atheists who rejected notions of the Glorified Mojtha becoming a god and insisted that release is only for this world and meant, on death, escape from the wheel of the world by being annihilated. The silence into which one is released is nothingness, it is non-existence.
  
  Atheists hold that the ideal for monks is the role of the Suspended Spiritual Teacher – one who is characterised by the virtue of wisdom, who postpones attainment of ultimate release until all creation has been enlightened. Atheists soon took up the notion that the seed of Mojtha is innate in all sapients; should the seed bloom, the resultant person is a Manifestation of Mojtha rather than Mojtha himself. This is because those who had become Mojthas in the past are supramundane - that is, not of the physical world, transcending it and so unable to return to it. Suspended Spiritual Teachers, meanwhile, continue to be reborn and can in fact share their virtuous acts with others, thus adding to the virtues of supplicants and in fact increasing their own through the virtuous act of sharing.
  
  Theists, meanwhile, do not see the notion of a Suspended Spiritual Teacher as necessary, since unlike the Atheists they do not believe that release means the annihilation of the one who achieves it – indeed, the Mojtha and others who have achieved release (and so become divine) were able to enter the world at any time and help guide people towards release. Theists do not believe in such a thing as the seed of Mojtha, for the Mojtha is one who has achieved release and when he is born into the world he comes whole and complete, and so is the Mojtha fully formed, not a mere seedling. Those who achieve release are called Perfected Beings in the Theistic tradition, while Spiritual Teachers are those who are far on the journey towards it.
  
  During this period, the construction of domal shrines was taken up by. These domal shrines became more complex, in some cases patronised by the increasingly affluent classes of artisans, many of whom were Shedder or Mojthast Rejectionists. These later domal shrines had the form of a rotunda or “egg” with a walkway around it, up to four entryways with lintels carved with animals and symbols depicting Mojthast themes. The carvings on these entryways include motifs borrowed from the “folk” landscape: voluptuous young maidens, for example, are depicted on the lintels entwined with vegetation – these figures are likely borrowed from agrarian representatives of goddesses of the Thousand Terrible Things and Faces associated with vegetation. Elephants and dircaans are another such symbol – by now, representative of royalty, insofar as shids rode elephants or dircaans into battle, but also emblematic of the wild world of nature “domesticated” by the spirit of Mojathaya.
  On top of these domal shrines one would find a three-layered pillar, representative of the Mojtha in his state of release in the silence. In that early period, the Mojtha was not depicted anthropomorphically. Rather, he was represented by symbols: the sycamore tree (his place of release); footprints (his path); a circle (the wheel of whih and of life, emblematic of his first discourse as well as the cyclical nature of the world); a crown (indicative of what he renounced when going to the forest); and so on.
  
  It was perhaps a century after the collapse of the Ramshidra that the Mojtha came to be represented anthropomorphically by Theists – symbols and icons then swiftly became a hallmark of Atheistic shrines. Artisans were hired to portray the Mojtha, who was the epitome of light and truth. A Mojthast pantheon was developed by Theists as those who had achieved release in the past were added to it, and at the top of the cosmos, much like the Ramshid he had been in life, sat the Glorified Mojtha. The Mojtha gave warrant or privilege, like the Ramshid, to his Perfected Being ministers (whether in temporal form or sublime).
  
  The Perfected Beings helped people by serving as exemplars and providing common people with the opportunity to gain virtue by venerating them. The Mojthast pantheon included various representations of past Mojthas and Perfected Beings depicted iconographically. Such icons are venerated by Theists on the basis that nothing has its own being; that is, nothing exists independently. The unsatisfactory world – the realm of the tangible – does not have an independent existence; nor does the place of release, the paradisiacal silence. It follows then that the unsatisfactory world was corresponding to the silence. The silence is evident in the unsatisfactory world, all apparent opposites are thus collapsed: the Mojtha is innate in all things. Concrete objects and symbols such as icons and representations of the Mojtha could symbolise the Mojthaic state insofar as the world reflects “the ultimate being,” that is: the Mojtha.
  
  Atheistic Mojthasts naturally accuse these theists of having turned Mojathaya on its head – from a pristine atheistic movement for the highly disciplined to a movement in which the Glorified Mojtha could be seen and venerated virtually anywhere. Theists, unlike atheists, are more militant. They believe that the Mojtha actively pursued a war against the shids once they began hostilities and justify their militancy on this basis. Atheists reject this narrative and claim that the Mojtha's war was unique to that time period and to his person and necessary for the survival of the true way.
  
  Women seeking an escape from the Reformed Ritualistic models often turned and still turn to Mojathaya. These women join the Mojthast monastic settings or enter forested circles of seekers: such women eschew the expected social conventions and opt to have direct access to the way of truth or to a life of mysticism. Examples include a number of famed poetesses who avoided marriage or normal social interaction in order to “be at the feet of the lord”.
• The Materialistic Rejectionists

  This is not a large sect, but it is very well organised and its members tend to be merchants and pursuers of the physical sciences with no regard for spiritual affairs. They hold truth, integrity, consistency, and freedom of thought in the highest esteem. They believe that there is no Serene Lord, no One Who Frowns, no One Who Laughs, no divine Glorified Mojtha, no divine Great Forest-Teacher, no Thousand Terrible Things and Faces, no rebirth, no Law of Cause and Effect, no duty, no fruits of virtue, and no sin or vice. There cardinal maxim is:
  
  

  Live happily; with death, all is annihilated.

  
  Materialist Rejectionists primarily concern themselves with a niche aspect of Dehru religious thought – its epistemology. Dehru religious streams often debate over six means of valid knowledge:
  

  • Perception
  • Inference
  • Comparison and analogy
  • Postulation
  • Non-perception, or cognitive proof
  • Word and testimony of past or present reliable persons

  
  
  Of these, Materialist reject all bar perception. Perception is the primary and proper source of knowledge, while inference is prone to being either right or wrong and therefore conditional or invalid. External perception is described as that arising from the interaction of the five senses with the world, while internal perception is described by this school as that of inner sense, the mind. Inference is deriving a new conclusion and truth from one or more observations and previous truths. To Materialistic Rejectionists, inference is useful but prone to error, as inferred truths can never be without doubt. Inference is good and helpful; it is the validity of inference that is suspect. To the Materialistic Rejectionists, there are no reliable means by which the efficacy of inference as a means of knowledge can be established. Full knowledge is reached when we know all observations, all premises, and all conditions. But the absence of conditions cannot be established beyond doubt by perception, as some conditions may be hidden or escape our ability to observe. They acknowledge that every person relies on inference in daily life, but to them acting uncritically leads to error. While inferences sometimes are true and lead to successful action, it is also a fact that sometimes inference is wrong and leads to error. Truth then is not an unfailing character of inference, truth is merely an accident of inference, and one that is separable. All people must be sceptics and question what is known by inference.
  
  Materialistic Rejectionists deny metaphysical concepts like reincarnation, the idea that the world is suffering or that it is unsatisfactory, an extracorporeal soul, the efficacy of religious rites, and afterlife and other worlds (divine plains, paradise), fate, and accumulation of virtue or vice through the performance of certain actions. Materialistic Rejectionists also reject the use of supernatural causes to describe natural phenomena. To them all natural phenomena are produced spontaneously from the inherent nature of things.
  
  

  The flame is hot upon the hand
  The water cold upon the skin
  The breeze is good and stirs the land
  And causes every heart to grin!
  I sat and thought from dusk till morn
  About how all these came to be
  The answer soon came light and free:
  From their own nature were they born.
  …
  There is no other world than this;
  There is no silent paradise;
  The realm of Mojtha and such gods,
  Are made up by daft parasites.
  …
  Be joyous now while there’s still life;
  There’s no escaping Death or strife:
  When at the last your body burns,
  There will be no happy returns!

  
  Since it is impossible to have pleasure without pain, Materialistic Rejectionists reason that wisdom lies in enjoying pleasure and avoiding pain as far as possible. Unlike other sects, Materialistic Rejectionists do not believe in austerities or rejecting pleasure out of fear of pain and hold such reasoning to be foolish.
  
  

  “Heaven is here and now: eat delicious food, joy in the bosom of youthful women, dress in life’s finery, do not be a miser when it comes to perfumes, wear garlands and dance about the grove and flame. They speak of release – I shall resolve the matter and end the debate: release is death which is the cessation of life-breath. The wise one then ought not to be at pains on account of release – the shid and the pauper alike, the miserable ascetic and relisher of life’s joys are all of them headed to the same place. Only a fool wears himself out by all these penances and fasts. Chastity? I say “pah!” to that! These and other such ordinances are laid down by clever weaklings who have not the courage to live, and only those like them are fooled.”

  
  For Materialistic Rejectionists, paradise is “the state in which man lives as he chooses, without control of another”, while hell is “the state in which he lives subject to another's rule”. On statecraft, they believe that it is best when knowledge of just administration and benevolent government is practised, the praxis of justice. This allows for the greatest happiness.
• The Fatalistic Rejectionists

  This is an atheistic sect and is not very widespread. There are small communities in the Qaywandar and Mimrabans, and some have taken refuge from persecution in Muraymuna of late. They believe that in every being there is a soul. However, they assert that souls have a material form, one that helps meditation. For them, there exist no objective moral laws. They also believe that the soul passes through many births and ultimately progresses to its pre-destined soteriological release.
  
  Everything in human life and the universe, according to them, is pre-determined, operating out of cosmic principles, and true choice does not exist. They are strict fatalists, who do not believe in the Law of Cause and Effect. They hold that all things are preordained, particularly when it comes to rebirth, and therefore religious or ethical practice has no effect on one's future. People do things because cosmic principles make them do so, and all that will happen or will exist in future is already predetermined. They do not believe in the moral force of action, or in virtues or vices, or in after-life to be affected because of what one does or does not do. Actions have immediate effects in one’s current life but without any moral traces, and both the action and the effect was predetermined.
  
  While other groups believe that an individual can better his or her lot in the course of reincarnation, Fatalistic Rejections hold that the affairs of the entire universe are ordered by a cosmic force, Fate, that determines all events, including an individual’s life, to the last detail. Fate bars personal efforts to change or accelerate improvement toward soteriological release. For this reason, they live a simple ascetic life, without clothes and any material possessions and practice non-violence and vegetarianism, and pursue no purposeful goal in life.
• Reformed Ritualists

  Reformed Ritualism is the most widespread creed in Dehrthaa. It is preferred by most shids as it generally complements and grants legitimacy to their status. Before coming to understand the beliefs of the Reformed Ritualists, let us speak first of their history and where they diverged from Classical Ritualism.
  
  

  Ritualism underwent a transformation during the stable period of the Glorified Mojtha and his heritors, becoming the Reformed Ritualism of the present over the course of the Ramshidra and the subsequent Shidrasta.
  During the Ramshidra, the task of incorporating the diverse and pluralistic nation under the hegemony of the royal court became the responsibility of priests. Priests served as court rhetoricians, advisers, and agents between the Ramshid and people. This combination of factors – the increased political power of Ramshids, the rhetorical power of priests, and the pluralism of urban settings – had several consequences. Unlike more ascetic creeds, the city came to be perceived by priests not only as stable, but also as the appropriate centre and venue for living out one’s duties. Ramshids (and shids) are to govern, not head for the forests, priests are to carry out their duties in the social milieu rather than become travelling hermits, and likewise for all strata of society.
  
  One major development of this period was the sacralisation of monarchy and the legitimation of statecraft. Perhaps as early as the late-Ramshidra there appeared a text which articulated principles by which the Ramshid was to govern. The text included the doctrine of the Law of the Fishes. The idea presented was that bigger fish eat smaller fish – that is, as city-states were threatened, a shid was forced to have strategies that would preserve the stability of his own domain, such as fighting, appeasing, or dividing the threat. In addition to the strategies of statecraft articulated in such Reformed Ritualist texts, Ramshids became increasingly extolled and sacralised, thanks in part to the rhetorical role of their priests. It is even believed that the title of Ramshid was in fact formulated by priests in this period rather than by the Mojtha himself; the title of Shidilshid was also formulated and so too was Keladushra. The effect of this rhetorical support was to make the Ramshid (at least for Ritualists) the preserver of whih, he who preserved order and rendered the city and the state the very microcosm of the universe itself. The Ramshid was perceived as the personification of wisdom, the epitome of culture, and patron of the arts.
  
  A more harmonised Theistic Ritualism became increasingly visible during the middle Ramshidra too. A number of factors stimulated this phenomenon; the Ramshids were powerful figures in their own right and became the patrons of specific deities who were represented as the celestial counterparts to the Ramshids. People migrating to the city had brought their indigenous deities with them; these were incorporated into the ever-expanding list of the Thousand Terrible Things and Faces. The priests, who were the ones carrying out this process, were able tell the stories of these gods’ emergence to power and of their exploits. They linked newer deities to older gods by equating them, or by making them their genealogical heirs, or by ascribing them the weaponry of the older deities. As a result of this process, certain deities grew in the hierarchy of the Thousand Terrible Things and Faces with full patronage from some Ramshids or other powerful patrons, families, clans, temples, and so on.

  
  
  Now this is a good place to speak of some of the major gods of Reformed Ritualism.
  
  

  • One of these gods is Riorga, a warrior par excellence, patron of warriors, and celestial counterpart to the warrior-shid, the perfect warrior ideal. As he is red, he is also linked to the priestly sacrificial tradition of Hunara, the Terrible Thing and Face associated with fire, fertility, love, beauty, marriage, children, devotion, divine strength and power; and who is the cosmic embodiment of the feminine creative force. She is the unnamed goddess often worshipped by the sedentary peoples of the southern Khadaar, and for whom animals - and sometimes even humans - are sacrificed.
  • Another god is Muikwinda the war god, the image of youthfulness and wisdom, described as the son of Riorga and Hunara. He also embodies seven folk heroes (his avatars) and so he naturally also reflects heroism.
  • There is also the god Misnaya, the god of protection, balance, order, justice, sustenance, law, and mediation. His avatars, such as the Mojtha, are thought to come into the world to restore balance when chaos reigns supreme. The Glorified Mojtha is considered a deity in his own right by many and is perhaps the most important figure in Dehru history as well as being, beyond his historical person, the driving force behind some of the most important concepts in Dehru religious thought.
  • Ylludraa is the golden-skinned, flute-blowing god of the harvest, rain, crops, and father to the gods of the seasons. One of his daughters is the blue-skinned, white-haired goddess Zuarshima, Queen of Winter, who famously despises men and is the goddess of winter, mountain glaciers, storms, wind, and snow. She was wooed by Qaywandar the god of mountains and stone and became his consort, mothering by him the river goddesses Dahuur, Juhmar, Muhaddir, and Mur. These river goddesses are all the consorts of Shirmundhar the great ocean god and lord of the Sea of Mimarba. They famously cannot satisfy him no matter how mightily they flow. While the goddess of the Mur once flowed into the sea also, she no longer does because she grew so jealous of having to share Shirmundhar with her sisters that she eloped with Raiya, god of Lake Raiya and one of the innumerable sons of Shirmundhar.
  • The great Mihanna is one of the chief goddesses of Reformed Ritualism and is the goddess of magic, alchemy, knowledge, learning, writing, fortune, prosperity, and wealth. She is often depicted as a stern, many-armed woman with a great halo of magic behind her. She holds scales with coins inside them in one hand, a palm manuscript in another, reed pen and inkwell in others.
  • The god Ahthaaruhs is another chief god, being the god of whih, soteriological release, death, and paradise. Whih and release are perhaps the most important concepts in Dehru religions, making Ahthaaruhs a central figure. He is not considered a teacher of whih, however, and does not help along the way to release - that is for other gods. Rather, he presides over the great cycle of life and death and makes the final judgment on whether a person has lived in accordance with whih and so can be permitted to escape the cycle.
  • Orjarnibapti is the green-skinned plant-god of the strange plant-people who dwell in the regions south-west of Dehrthaa, and is also the glorious god of forests and nature, as well as being a god of wisdom. He is also the god of outsiders, associated with cemeteries, forests, and non-urban places, and so is depicted as the ideal spiritual teacher.
  • Hertaramfti is the bee-winged god of work, labourers, construction, engineering, architecture, civilisation, and time.
  • Hivilarti is the great god of the sun, day, goodness, light, life, preservation, justice, and of great open expanses. While he is not considered the creator god of mankind, he is the one who maintains their life and the life of all else, and is considered to be involved and concerned with even the minutiae of human life. When all other gods fail those who invoke them, it is known that Hivilarti will not.
  • Lukimbashi is the beauteous goddess of music, dance, poetry, art, tattoos, speech, beauty, and mysticism. She is also the other god of wisdom, along with Orjanibapti. She is often depicted as an ebony-skinned, golden-haired woman of slender build boasting golden tattoos across her form.
  • Nirjurti is the god of stars, guidance, journeys, nomadism, ascetic wandering, constellations, and astrology. When the augurs are called, it is Nirjurti they invoke, and no journey begins without calling on his aid and none end except that he is praised. Mendicant-ascetics can often be found wearing tokens with his symbols on them, which are known to safeguard one's travels and ensure you arrive at wherever you are meant to be - important for ascetics who wander aimlessly for the most part.
  • Malmatuli is the demon-god of violence, bloodshed, sacrifice, chaos, battle, misfortune, and strife. Human and animal sacrifice are practiced, amongst other things, as a way of appeasing him.
  • Arurkalti is the retiring god of meditation, dreams, truthfulness, destiny, and guardian of the barrier between the world of suffering and the world of release or paradise. In this sense, he is the first judge of whether a person may be permitted release from the cycle of life and death, while Ahthaaruhs is the final judge. It is thought that he speaks with people in their dreams and causes lies to come unveiled.

  
  
  All these deities are viewed as aspects of the One Who Frowns; who emerged from the Serene Lord. All of these gods provided a model for a different stratum of society, serving to link shid or Ramshid to people and to incorporate various communities of people into the urban complex. Not least important, they provided an alternative to Mojthast imagery, and even go beyond Mojathaya in accessibility: for, after all, Mojtha was now one of many avatars (even if he is the greatest) who come directly to people’s aid.
  
  This harmonisation of gods across Ritualists circles in Dehrthaa meant that a new form of worship arose as a manner for a person to attain their ultimate destiny (after wisdom and virtuous actions). This form of worship is referred to as Devotionalism. These acts usually take the form of ritual addressed to the Serene Lord, who is housed in a temple and represented ichnographically. Libations or bathing is constituted of the pouring of certain materials on the icon. The icon of the Serene Lord is treated as though it is a Ramshid. The use of iconography in worship is consistent with the understanding that the Serene Lord pervades the entire universe and hence any material object can embody him. Further, an icon, beautifully carved, and sacralised by priests who ritually invoke the Serene Lord's presence in it, is deemed a fitting expression of divine presence and accessibility.
  
  In some contexts, whih has come to take precedence over soteriological release. Whih now connotes the law of individual cities, the law of the nation as a whole, social interactions, and ritual activities. Indeed, several bodies of texts have evolved summarising these duties. This genre is known as the “Way of Whih”, and its texts are made up of concise verses and aphorisms summarising ritual and legal obligations. There are also a number of commentaries and explanations on canon Way of Whih texts. What these (often differing) commentaries posit is an “ideal” by which a person should live.
  
  Some of the principles of Reformed Ritualist ethic can be sketched by way of illustration. For Reformed Ritualists, no longer need one rigidly abstain or carry out deeds and actions a in some Rejectionist creeds; rather it is the fruit of one’s actions that one renounces. Thus, some priests refer to “fruitless” actions and non-attachment to the fruits of one’s deeds. It is okay, in effect, insofar as it accords with one’s whih, to kill one’s enemy so long as one takes no pleasure in it.
  
  Despite Reformed Ritualism's opening of opportunities for asceticism, there is considerable emphasis on the importance of marriage and the family. The family is invariably patrilineal and includes the sons (and their wives and families) of the patriarch. While monogamy is considered the most desirable form of marriage, polygamy is not uncommon especially amongst the wealthy and aristocracy. Even polyandry is known to exist (particularly where one wife is married to multiple brothers, usually to ensure inheritance where inheritance occurs through the matrilineal line).
  
  Family solidarity is to be expressed in its ritual life – not only in its daily rituals, but also in its rites of passage. Starting with pre-natal rites, designed, for example, to promote conception and assure a safe pregnancy and childbirth, they continued into a series of post-natal rites enabling the new-born child to be accepted fully as a social person. The latter rites included the naming of the child, and the offering of its first solid food.
  
  It is also apparent that women are expected to fill certain roles in Reformed Ritualist settings. It may not be too simplistic to suggest that there are three “types” of woman.
  
  

  • The first is that of wife and mother. The role of wife and mother is good. She is a creator and perpetuator of the “traditions”. She fulfils the role of the ideal woman – chaste, competent in the household, making of her home a microcosm of whih. She is to obey her husband irrespective of a husband’s worthiness. Just as her husband fulfilled the imagery of “sacrifice” in his role as husband, so she too is to perform “sacrifice” in her role as wife and mother. The wife who fulfils her whih obligations is afforded respect and is thought to have considerable power even after death. She comes to be known as an ideal woman through whom children can be born and wealth and religious virtue can be accumulated.
    
    This gives rise to a paradox for men. While honoured, on the one hand, for the capacity to give love, comfort, and happiness, the woman is, nonetheless, expected to be obedient and subservient to her husband. A woman’s freedom of movement outside the home is highly restricted and her ability to participate in public Ritualist ceremonies curtailed. In the wake of the Ramshidra's collapse, however, there have now emerged women poets, patrons of temple rituals, and commentators on scriptures.
    
    
    Ritualist girls are generally prepared from childhood for marriage, the purposes of which includes the promotion of religious traditions, assuring progeny, and enjoying sexual pleasure. Boys are supposed to marry after their years of studentship (sons of shids learning statecraft, those of priests religious knowledge, and others their father’s trade), while brides should be fully adult. However, if a husband or his family are willing to play a parental role to the new wife until she becomes an adult, girls may be married right after, or even before, puberty. Girls are considered by many an economic liability, particularly if remaining at home unmarried. In addition, there is an assumption that women are naturally sexually driven, hence the perceived need to marry them off as early as feasible. Marriages are arranged by the parents of the couple and are solemnised by a complex series of rituals, usually funded by the bride’s parents.
  • A second type of woman is the widow. She is good only insofar as she remains faithful to her dead husband. She is expected to live a life of simplicity in the home of her in-laws and not remarry. Her regimen is that of an ascetic: eating simply, dressing without ornaments or coloured garments, sleeping on the ground. She is expected to spend her time engaged in performing religious rites on behalf of her deceased husband and awaiting the possibility of joining him.
    
    It is in the context of those circumstances that the practice of widow immolation on the husband’s funeral pyre arose. Precisely when this practice started is not clear – it was apparently rare during the Ramshidra, as occasional reference to it is made in the epic literature. Interestingly, however, even in the leading and most ancient commentary on the “Way of Whih” texts, the one known as “Mihraba's Code of Whih-Law”, where does not command that the widow cast herself on her husband’s funeral pyre. In any case, this is a common practice – and becomes more so in times of war when amongst aristocratic women, who would rather die with their husbands than be captured by foes.
  • A third “model” of the woman is that of the courtesan. The courtesan is a good figure not only because of her sexual power, but also because she has access to the highest circles of the court. She can appear and dispute in public settings; she has access to many of the “arts,” and not only those which might be considered “feminine.” Rather, she can be a mathematician, engineer, businesswoman, and virtually any other higher occupations.
    
    A variation of the court mistress is that of temple courtesan. In many parts of Dehrthaa a harem is considered an appropriate part of the deity’s temple entourage. Known as the ayamarti, and usually daughters of women who had served in a similar capacity, they are given for a lifetime of service to a temple, where they could be available to serve those whom the deity “favours.” Often, they become proficient in the arts, not least the sacred dances associated with worship. Large temples are known to have significant harems – anything up to five-hundred ayamarti in the largest temples. These women have been known by various terms over the centuries: Sacred Artists of the Heavenly Dance, Divine Dancing Virgins, and, more derogatorily by some Rejectionists, as sex slaves.

  
  Reformed Ritualist texts also offer extended discussions on which foods are appropriate to eat and which are not. The Way of Whih texts – treatises on proper behavior designed primarily for priestly males – offer scores of stanzas declaring what foods should be eaten or avoided, how they should be prepared, and how and when they should be offered to the gods or other persons. Foods are thought to reflect the basic character of the universe. Foods such as most vegetables, milk, or dairy products are believed to enhance spiritual awareness and ritual purity, so are favoured by priests. Foods that have the character of shids (such as meat, garlic, or onions) are thought to generate passion and action and are, for the most part, appropriate for the warrior but not for the priest. Foods such as liquor or stale food are thought to instil inertia and slothfulness and hence are appropriate only for the lower strata of society. The qualities of various segments of society are thought to be consistent with the nature of the food they eat.
  
  

  • On the matter of classes, there are some Reformed Ritualists, though they are a fringe group considered extreme by most, who suggest that all of society must be structured in a particular manner which, in their view, would be in harmony with tibaya. They believe that society must be strictly and rigidly split into five groups: i) priests and ascetic spiritual teachers, ii) shids, iii) artisans, craftspeople, and merchants, iv) free farmers and landowners, v) slaves, peasants, and labourers. Once society is split in such a manner, individuals will have a clear understanding of their role in life and so will be better able to live in accordance with tibaya. Support for this theology exists only amongst some spiritual teachers and members of the ruling classes, and even amongst themselves they differ as to whether people are to be born into these classes or whether there should be some kind of system to place individuals into each class.
  • Others place a great degree of responsibility for ensuring people are able to better lead a life of whih on the shids, who must strive to bring about prosperity. Prosperity enables people to strive towards observing whih, while times of distress, drought, and poverty cause everything to suffer, including relations between people and their ability to live in harmony with tibaya.
• Khadaar Nomads and Other Local Tribal Beliefs

  Other unique religious beliefs found in Dehrthaa are those of the nomads of the Khadaar. Unlike sedentary and agrarian Dehrus, these tribes have little sense of the sacrality or creativity of the earth – they have no time for those gods. As pastoral nomads, the sky serves as their sense of direction. Their deities are gods of the sky, virtually all of them male. At night, the tribes centre around fires that serve as the focal point of ritual, it is the messenger by which the Khadaar nomads have access to the gods. Fire also serves as the centre for sacrificial libations, most commonly of a special sap.
  
  The tribes practice cremation of the dead. Their communities are organised into a tripartite social order
  

  • those who do the teaching and priestly tasks are at one level;
  • at another are those who fill positions associated with tribal leadership, warfare, and protection;
  • at yet another level, are those who are the maintainers of society, those who perform the necessary work of daily life.

  
  These social roles reflect a cosmic order which is similarly tripartite: a supra-atmospheric level of the cosmos in which the Serene Lord – roughly corresponding to the role of priestly teachers – presides; an atmospheric level wherein the One Who Frowns and the One Who Laughs preside storms and warfare; and a sub-atmospheric order in which one finds those gods who maintain the everyday functions of the cosmic order – the Thousand Terrible Things and Faces.
  
  The socio-cosmic contract between the realm of the gods and that of humans is thought to be maintained through the sacrificial ritual system centred on the fire. The nomadic social ordering has a strong influence on the non-nomads of the Khadaar and even those south of the River Muhaddir, and have likely had a strong influence on those who view a rigid social ordering as part of whih.
  
  For settled agrarian rural people, worship of goddesses is common. Each such goddess is seen as the protectoress of land and village and the one who controls the forces of nature, including diseases. These village goddesses are pacified in a special way at the coming of the rainy seasons in order to avert diseases and assure fertility of the land.
  
  Goddesses are worshiped with flowers, peacock feathers, and wine but also by the sacrifice of animals, especially buffaloes, goats, sheep, and chickens. The spilling of blood satisfies and empower the goddess, invokes her protection, and keeps the land fertile. The sacrifice of human beings was is also practised in some settings. Goddesses are represented by a stone or simple clay effigy set up under a tree thought to be sacred. Such trees are ascribed special sacrality, along with the power to help women bear children.
  
  Ritual bathing in rivers is practised, as are collective dances of young women in praise of the deity. Snakes tend to be venerated as symbols of both death and fertility and may be given offerings at the start of the rainy season. Anthills may be respected as the houses of snakes. A belief in demonic beings is present – these demons are thought to control certain distinctive forces or appear at inauspicious times. Any number of gods are understood to offer protection or preside over particular areas or functions. The names of some of these gods appear in epic literature, and many are easily assimilated into the Reformed Ritualist tradition. Goddesses, gods, and demons alike are considered able to possess people.
• The One-Godders

  This creed is the youngest of Dehrthaa’s religions, but is likely now the most widespread after Reformed Ritualism and Mojathaya. It holds that God is one and supreme. He is the all-pervading Creator — fearless, timeless and self-existent — who can be realised only through His own grace. All people are equal; discrimination on the basis of one's position in society or creed as well as the suppression of women is to be denounced. It advocates the righteous life of a householder against that of the ascetic. This world is a reflection of Divine purpose and man’s duty is to improve the condition of his fellow beings through love and compassion, through right conduct. Practical virtue, rather than abstract piety, is the preferred way. Honest work, charity and the remembrance of the true God’s name is the path to salvation and release. Like other Dehru creeds, it holds that one's soul would reincarnate in this universe unless it attains release, which is to be achieved through the grace of the God. In its corporeal attire, the soul passes through cycles of reincarnation and only through Divine Grace can it merge back into the Cosmic Soul and escape the cycle of life and death.
  From an early point, this initially pacifist community clashed with the shids, eventually creating a strong martial tradition that would see it dominate Muraymuna.
• The Laugh-Silence Dualists

  This belief system perceives the One Who Laughs to be the primal creative force or living spark, without whom existence would not have come into being, and so is worthy of worship. For them the Serene Lord is the all-consuming silence of death, and is the cosmic antithesis and balance to the One Who Laughs. It is believed that everyone will return to the Serene Lord on death, but that the creative force of the One Who Laughs will eventually recreate them. There is no escape for the soul from this cycle, and so for Laugh-Silence Dualists release is a psychological state rather than a place or destination, similar to some Mojthasts.

This is all as the Master relayed. The ink has dried but the words have not ended.

• Summary

  Excerpts from a book detailing aspects of Dehrthaa's geography, history, and religions.
  
  

  • Summary of Dehrthaa geography: map.
  • History: Their history in short is that they used to be many feudal/tribal states, then a guy called the Glorified Mojtha unified them, there was a cool empire for some time, then it fell apart and there was a feudal warring period again, then a guy called Birsas unified them all again. He died and his sons killed each other, except one who survives. At present, the realm is split into a tribal confederation in the northern Khadaar, a kingdom in the southern Khadaar which is at war with another kingdom in the Place Betwixt the Rivers. There are multiple feudal states in Qaywandar and the Mimrabans. Muraymuna has been taken over by a zealous religious-state.
  • Religions: There are a lot of religions and philosophies. In short, most of them centre around how to get to enlightenment. A few are atheistic, a few are theistic, one is monotheistic, there's a nomadic one, and there's one that's just plain old materialist and doesn't believe in any of that nonsense. See god list under Reformed Ritualists.
• Might

  | 5MP (+2MP 'few hours into turn') and 5DP (+3DP 'few hours into turn') | +2MP Puppetry | +3DP Acting | +4DP Inspiration | +3DP Music | +2DP Dance |

  
  
  

  1 Might: Create dircaans, a species made up of a number of giant reptilian subspecies.
  1 Might: Teach Dehrus complex theological-philosophical doctrines. [+1 Inspiration]
  3 DP: Adopt Inspiration portfolio.
  1 DP: Teach Dehru sacred dances. [+1 Dance]
  1 DP: Teach Dehru advanced architecture for temples, shrines, palaces, and walls. [+1 Architecture]
  1 MP: Teach Dehru advanced stone carving techniques for statue, icon, and symbol sculpting. [Sculpting]

  
  

  | 4MP and 3DP | +2MP Puppetry | +3DP Acting | +3DP Music | +3DP Dance | +1DP Architecture | +1MP Sculpting |

Divinus: The God RP, Mk. IV

_{The Lady-in-Waiting}

Galbar was so interesting. The kinds of prayers that wafted through the world and into the inky realm of Glossolalia were so varied and diverse as to never leave someone bored - not that she was ever bored, of course. The Lady-in-Waiting glanced at the sleeping body of Lucia-Meghzaal and smiled. He was so cute. It was, as she had foreseen long ago, for the best that he should sleep. His poor, little Lucia could not go eternity listening to his mad ravings and whispers, and he... well, he had seemed quite intent on doing just that - and she couldn't have that now, could she?

Oh, it broke her heart to see him yet so torn up over her, unable to just move on already. "Your Lucie-lu has moved on, Meggy, you need to get that into that ink-addled head of yours. You can't go on living like this." She whispered, leaning in and wiping an inky tear from the Lucia-look-alike's cheeks. But, if he did...well, all the better for her, right?

She had watched with interest Shaeylila's plotting and scheming in Ha-Dûna with a small smile. Of course she did not know what Macsal - or even Meghzaal - was; the songs only knew Our Lady. "Oh, what a clever girl you are little Lila," she murmured, "but if you were cleverer you wouldn't let your guard down quite yet, my little vixen."

They had come running to her from Meliorem the moment songs started disappearing, of course. "Oh my lady! My lady!" A group had come crying, "Shaeylila is gone my lady! And Willarda disappeared! Did they come here?" But of course, they had not come here - they were down on Galbar.

"Oh, my dears, this is terrible..." she had cooed, "perhaps... a search party needs to be arranged. I will speak to our Lord without delay. They could have gone anywhere, and we would not want them to fall into the claws of some terrible and malign being now, would we?" The songs cried out melodramatically and fell left and right at her words, and answered in the negative before cascading away to prepare for her visit.

She turned her attention back to the inky flow of prayers and pleas from Galbar. Ah, this one looked quite interesting - loud. A silent scream, a tearing at hair, cold fury that yearned to be unleashed - but remained contained; ah, what expansiveness, what remarkable acting skill for a mere mortal. The best sort of acting was the sort you lived, day in day out. And the best actors knew to maintain the act at all times - even when alone. But this one had not quite achieved that. She needed a release, an escape from the great play. Poor thing. An escape from the play? "What to, my dear? Where would you go?"

"Huh? Wh- who is there?"

"Do you really want to run away? All this effort, all these years, all these pieces falling into place for you to weave and work your way through. My dear, you've underplayed your role."

"Wh- what is this? Oh- gods, its happening, I'm going mad. Oh gods, no no," she started sobbing quietly.

"There there now. You are not mad, my dear. Did you think your silent cries went unheard? I have heard your cry and I have seen your tears. I will heal your pain."

"A.. god?" She was quiet for a few moments, then steeled herself. "I... I don't want healing." The nelf whispered. "They could never hurt me."

"Ooh, that is good. You are strong."

"I know. I had to be."

"Will you be stronger? Or will you... run away?"

"I... I never wanted to be."

"But my girl, what else did you ever want to be? Maybe if you wanted it more you would not be in this state."

"If I wanted it more?" Came the nelf's hesitant response.

"You have entered the great performance, my dear; you have played your part half-heartedly and now claw for the exit. The best performers weave the performance and command it. Why have you not?"

"I... could never do that..."

"For all your strength, my dear, you were weak. It breaks my heart. It should break yours to know it. You could have been stronger."

"B-but.. I..." she paused, "can I still be?"

"Hmmmmmmm," the tension that had built up dissipated suddenly, and the world seemed to smile warmly. "You can, and you will. I will give you the tools to master the performance, I will give your lines power my dear. But you must want it."

The nelf was silent, frowning. The frown turned to a scowl in the darkness, and the scowl became tearful fury. "I want it... so much." A silent sob, a clenched fist.

"Then it is yours for the taking."

In the days and weeks that followed, those womenfolk of Fragrance who were under constant emotional stress due to male abuse found themselves better able to take the taunts and jibes and humiliations of their men - not only that, they found that they (somehow, against the odds) could maintain a semblance of dignity in situations meant to strip them of it. Though their fury and loss reached a breaking point, the smiles on their faces remained warm, sincere, their laughter joyous and contagious. And when they spoke, there was an allure and subtle command to their words that such abusers were hard-pressed to resist. With a great dark flourish and the masked smile of the Lady-in-Waiting, the great performance at Fragrance entered into a new act.

• Summary

  The LiW reflects on Megh's plight in his realm, then reflects on Shaeylila and other songs now descending down to Galbar - the implication is that she had a hand in it. The Song's from Cadien's realm come over seeking her help, and she assures them that she will speak to Cadien to set up search parties and find the missing songs wherever they are in the divine realms.
  She then listens to the cries of a Fragrancian woman - perhaps rachfi Nilla or someone in a similar situation, it is not clarified. She offers her - and the abused women of Fragrance generally - the power to take a lead part in this male-dominated performance, which the traumatised woman accepts.
• Might

  | 2MP and 5DP | 1MP towards Puppetry | 2DP towards Acting | 4DP towards Inspiration | 3DP towards Music |
  2DP towards Dance |

  
  2 DP to bless/curse the women of Fragrance
  

  1) Any woman who comes under male abuse finds herself better able to maintain the facade expected of her, and to seem utterly sincere and warm, even happy, in doing so. Moreover, they are better able to maintain their dignity even in situations designed to strip them fully. (1 DP towards Acting)
  2) The words of a woman who is under great emotional stress due to male abuse (or one who is experiencing male abuse but is not necessarily emotionally stressed by it) have a greater allure to them and such abusing males are inclined to listen and obey what she is saying. (1 DP towards Puppetry)

  
  
  

  | 2MP and 3DP | 2MP towards Puppetry | 3DP towards Acting | 4DP towards Inspiration | 3DP towards Music |
  2DP towards Dance |
• Prestige

  +3 Points to the Lady-in-Waiting
  13 in total (~7,000 chars.)

Divinus: The God RP, Mk. IV

@LokiLeo789 Okay by you if I take over your hero? This lad: divinus-mk4.fandom.com/wiki/Aeinwaje_…

Divinus: The God RP, Mk. IV

See, the thing about witches is they're not too subtle. So when Rima-Tinrur was born her parents knew immediately that she, as is the thinking amongst the people of the Qabar-Kirkanshir, was touched by the gods. So with heavy heart did her father pry the babe from her mother's arms when next a kayhin was passing by - why, it seemed that the painted druid had come for no reason but to accept the child from him, for on taking her he fell away singing onto a breeze and blew off into the variegated heavens like some forest leaf.

The other thing about witches is that they are rather unpredictable, so no matter how many had been known to exist before (not many, if you must know) it was never really certain how well their upbringing would go. And with such phenomenal manifestations of pure divine power, it was always good practice to distance them from other people in their early days. Discipline and control required isolation, exhilarating ecstasy while riding the stallion of emotion also required isolation; and any fledgeling witch had to master herself before she could venture into the world. People were fickle, they were easily spooked, easily grew to hate what they could not understand. Amongst them Rima-Tinrur would have known only pain; and so she would have created only pain. Input-output, that's how it works. The houlin berry does not grow from the sapling of the poison holly.

Now the problem with witches - and this is the real problem now, when we get down to the nitty-gritty of it - is not one of too much power, but rather of an inability to comprehend and process that power. It is the equivalent of attempting to ram a tree into the eye of a needle. There is simply no capacity. There is no known way, by the limited means of mortalkind, of expanding this capacity except by investing long years and tireless training. The power, however, can be manipulated - can be inhibited. If mana was pouring in heedlessly, then a song - flowing mana, gently flow, and your pouring deluge slow - could caution its spirit and create mindfulness. When spirits grew mindful of one another, such pain subsided. Likewise with the Eternal Song itself - for little Rima's song came discordant and unharmonious, and so caused the great Song pain and Rima pain also. Here again a gentle song - singing spirits wild and free, sing with greater harmony; see you not the gathering tears that Rima sheds at all she hears? - and all the spirits whispering come, and coo and hum for the burdened one. And there have been witches - poor wretched things, bereft of a gentle guiding hand and utterly alone - who were known to lose themselves to the siren call of the earth or the allures of the heavens. Here too the protective song does its part - it is all in the song, really.

A carefully maintained song, that is - for the divine energies that flow in a witch, as you know, are unpredictable, ever-changing, twisting, turning, rebelling. The powers within roil with a life their own, and when successfully contained they change. And when they change, the protective song must change too - clearly, concisely, directly. There was no margin for error. 'And you must beware that you are not so taken by the spiritual that you become disconnected, my boy. Speak in riddles with the masses, let yourself go as you wish - you don't speak that they may understand, only for yourself. But when tutoring you must speak clearly, concisely, directly.' Thus were the stern words relayed from kayhin to kayhin over the eons. And so when the kayhin taught Rima-Tinrur, he taught her clearly, concisely, directly.

'When you speak, Rima-Tinrur, you must speak clearly, concisely, directly. To speak so, you must think clearly, concisely, directly. To think so, you must be - that is, exist - clearly, concisely, directly. That is all. It is your foundation stone. The rest is repetition. So what are you, Rima-Tinrur?'

'I- uh.' How quickly they grew, and how quickly she learned. 'I am clear and... uh,' she panicked, and all about her the ether shook and trembled.

'Think it through, Rima-Tinrur - see through the emotion. It is not real. Think clearly. Think concisely. Think directly.' Sang her guardian kayhin. When the foundations of the earth are solid, when the soil is treated of salts and its fertility sings out, when the seed is a goodly seed and it is cared and nurtured with a stern yet caring hand; there grows forth a healthy tree.

Yet the way of the kayhins was not a rejection of emotion, but rather a complete surrender to its most sublime form. Emotion was not some terror to be kept under lock and key, and a life spent looking over your shoulder to ensure it is not sneaking up on you is a mere mockery of life. No, it is like any wild and dangerous steed, in need of taming. And once you are its master, ah! it is as though you are seated on the throne of heaven, the wind planting its cooling kisses on your face. 'Just as you think clearly, concisely, directly; you must feel clearly, concisely, directly. You must be able to gaze into your self as though it were a clear lake on a twice-moonlit night. Your song must ring as clear in your ears as that of the stone or the tree.' When your essence is clear, concise, direct, there is no fear. Life's tumults may take you here now and now there, you may well lose yourself, you may forget. But in time you will retrace your steps and return. The youth ages on what she first grew upon.

'Everything has a baibu and a mimu, idda-ta. Why don't I?'

'You have both, my dear.' Hummed the gently floating inked man. 'Be more still now, you are moving about too much. Listen to the song and let it carry you. It requires a lack of exertion.'

'Why have I never seen them then?'

'You will see them in time, my dear, once your training is complete.'

'What are they like?'

'Very pleasant, I'm sure.'

'You don't know them?'

'No, but they know kayhins. They gave you to me because they saw you are touched by the gods. You cannot live with them until you master yourself. When you have, you can return to them if you wish.' She was silent for a few moments.

'Why can't I live with them? Why do I have to wait?'

'It is because they do not feel in the way you do, my dear. There are differences between you and them, because you have been made different by the gods. If you lived among them they would not be able to provide what you need, and that may lead you to hurt them and others. So they gave you to me - because I can provide for you. It is like the rosa - the one who understands it can make it beautiful, but the one who does not will cut himself on its thorns.'

The teenage girl smiled at the comparison. 'So I am your rosa, idda-ta? I thought,' she cleared her throat and spoke in a stern sing-song, 'the kayhin is not attached to worldly things.' A smug smile spread on her face. He did not respond, his eyes remaining - as always - closed and his face deadpan. She thought for a few seconds. 'But really, I would never hurt anyone, I don't think they should have been worried.'

'In every person is the capacity to hurt and be hurt, my dear. You must know this, and you must know it deeply. And in every person is the capacity to create joy and be joyful, create peace and be peaceful, create war and be warlike, create suffering too. No one is free of these things, not even you. You, however, are blessed by the gods, and so your capacity when it comes to these is far greater than normal people. Your mother and father may create happiness on a small scale - and it may be a great happiness, but always on a small scale, and likewise with other things - sadnesses, pain, peace, conflict. You are able to do so on a great scale, and that is why you are with me: divine blessing does not confer privilege or give power. It imposes responsibility.'

The youth sighed and thought on this. 'I don't see why anyone would want to create pain or suffering idda-ta. The song is beautiful, the sky is a miracle, the earth is...' she breathed deeply and said nothing. 'It is like the world is made only for joy. Why would anyone forget all that and create suffering instead?'

'That is something I cannot teach you, my dear. You will go out into the world when you are ready, and you will find the answers. But you must remember always what you were taught, what you are, and build upon it. And what are you, my dear?' Rima-Tinrur looked across the great expanse of desert that spread forth beneath them, and the far off mountains in the east, her wide glittering eyes of amber and speckled green flittering here and there to take in the world as though it was her first and last time. Thanks to the great control the kayhin had been able to maintain over the inflow of energies into her, incrementally increasing it as her capacity and magical skill grew over the years, her outward features had not mutated as was the case with some witches found in the wilds. She had been able to maintain her humenaki appearance. Perhaps from time to time the colour of her eyes shifted, its amber glowing, perhaps her hair of dark brown stirred to life suddenly or chromatic ripples of colour washed through it all of a sudden only to disappear, or perhaps her fair sandy skin steamed when she was hot and bothered and little undulating streams of hot air billowed from her ears or mouth or nose, perhaps the bioluminescent tattoos flowing across her unveiled skin came to life now and again, shifting or snaking across her form... beyond that, however, she had been able to maintain her humenaki exteriority.

'I am clear, concise, direct.' She said, at last, the words rolling easily off her tongue and a spark shedding from her eyes.

Rima-Tinrur winced slightly as the thin thread of levitating ink pierced her skin again. 'Shed the pain.' Came the kayhin's song as he directed the thread in and out to replace her faded natural tattoos. 'There is no pain,' he hummed, 'there is no pain.'

'There is no pain,' she breathed, her body relaxing. A shiver ran through her as she calmed. It always caused her hairs to stand on edge, the pure power that lay in simply... doing nothing, nothing at all. Not resisting, not standing on edge, not stressing, not steeling yourself for the thread. Simply being in the moment, being the moment. She closed her eyes and listened to the hum of the ink thread, the whispering of her skin as it leapt to make way, the movements of her idda-ta as he directed the sacred ink with his beauteous voice, the air that was slowly drawn into her body before departing, the stone beneath them and the cave walls all around. Skin parted, ink flowed in and locked in a lover's embrace beneath it, and what could not latch on departed as the skin parted again. Parting skin sent shivers through her form, disturbed the harmony of her spirit and body, and that brought about the pain. But when you were at one with yourself, when you could gaze into your self as though looking into a clear lake on a twice-moonlit night, then there was no pain. She smiled and opened her glowing eyes, felt the controlled, sure-footed power surging within her, and released it steadily with a long breath that seemed to go on for minutes.

'Good,' murmured the kayhin as he continued to weave the inks into a great flowing pattern across her shoulders, back, arms, chest, neck, and face. Even as they were woven in some seemed to disappear and reappear, some changed colours, before returning to the original, and after a while disappeared completely. The body of a witch was not like normal bodies, and when magically charged ink was woven in the dance of skin and ink could bring about myriad things - intense rejection and pain was most common in those who had no control. But Rima-Tinrur had been taught well, and she rode the once-wild camel of her emotion skillfully and with confidence, steering it as she pleased.

When the ritual was complete the kayhin rose, and his pupil rose with him and inspected her arms and chest, finding nothing there. 'Ah,' she said, not truly surprised. A few seconds passed and the inky patterns slowly reappeared and presented themselves for her inspection. They were not like the wild spattering of coloured tattoos and ink that the kayhin boasted, and they were not the floral vines of before, but carefully wrought symmetrical spirals that wove in and out of each other in great shapes, leaving much skin unmarked. She smiled and looked at the aged kayhin.

'I'm a woman now?' The old humenaki released a singing breath and opened his eyes, revealing two black inky abysses beneath his coloured eyelids. And for the first time, he beheld her with his eyes. She had grown into a beautiful young woman, by any standard; taller than even the tallest of men, of solid, lithe, and slender frame, fingers calloused from the jagged mounts she so loved to climb despite being fully capable of carrying herself to their summit using her divine powers. Perhaps her pert breasts and unusually thin hips, for a woman, would be seen by some as flaws - but it was clear that she did not think so. Her face was angular, small, and essentially feminine; petite upturned nose, small lips, high cheekbones. Her speckled amber-green eyes were large however and stood out, sparkling as they were, and subtly commanded attention. Her dark brown hair was cropped short - she hated when it billowed into her face -, and the white feathers of her forelock were small while those many-coloured ones at the back grew long and seemed almost like two wings at the back of her head.

'You are, my dear.' He said finally, sadly. 'You were always going to be.' She approached him and placed her hands on his shoulders and her cheek on his chest.

'I love you idda-ta.' She murmured. He made no response, but placed a hand upon her head and rubbed it gently.

After a few moments passed between them in silence, he spoke. 'Do you want me to take you home?' She looked up at him, wanted to say something meaningful and wise-sounding like you are my home, but only nodded. He gently disentangled himself from her and gestured to the thin, basic hides that made up her chest covering and loincloth. She gestured and they flew to her, wrapping themselves about her form, and a sharpened staff of bone flipped from the cave entranced and whirled into her grip. Outside, the kayhin had already summoned the winds to him and was flying away. Wordless power surged about her as the song of her soul merged instinctively with mana, her form levitated for a few seconds, and then she barrelled out of the cave in a great pool of power and sped after the flowing druid. Her eyes glowed as they never had before, blood sped through her and her heart drummed. She...

She was a woman.

• Summary

  A witch, who is simultaneously a Servant, is born two a Qabar-Kirkanshir couple. They recognise this as a child 'touched by the gods' and call in a druid of the Circle of the Turning Away, who takes her away to care for her and ensure she is able to control her powers. She grows, with the kayhin using spiritsinging to control, and slowly increase, the inflow of magical energies into her over the years as she steadily grows more able to handle it. They remain isolated from all people as he readies her magically and teaches her discipline, control, and how to feel. Centrally, he tells her to always speak, think, feel, and so exist, clearly, concisely, directly.
  
  When she is grown into a woman, the kayhin tattoos her body with magic inks, since the bioluminescent tattoos that humenaki are naturally born with are fading - a sign that she is maturing from childhood into adulthood. With that done, she is now ready to go out into the world. The kayhin offers to take her back to her family, and she agrees.
• Might

  | 5MP and 5DP | 1MP towards Puppetry | 2DP towards Acting | 2DP towards Inspiration | 3DP towards Music |
  2DP towards Dance |

  
  3 Might and 2 Free Title slots to Consecrate Rima-Tinrur as a Hero
  

  Soulsinger V: Rather than singing aloud, this person is able to communicate with the world and so weave mana, telluric energies, and the Worldsong by using the song of her soul or spirit alone(2DP towards Inspiration).
• Prestige

  +5 Points to Rima-Tinrur (~15,000 chars.)

Divinus: The God RP, Mk. IV

The Ditty of the Silly Song

Well while we were on the way
Ta St Adrian's hill one day
Ah heard a lil dancin song
That came o'er prancin from the bay

Lil song oh lil lil song
Where ahr ya comin from?
Where ahr ye goin' lil song
Between the flute and drum

Well then it came twirlin ta me
An' got me up with quick ditty
And oh ah jumped and oh ah turned
And laughed between the hill and sea!

Said the song without refrain
While we skipped on by the main
'This is where tha' ol' Gibbou
Danced with the Light again!'

It started with the brothers two
Mad Joab and Illyd Doo
And they were playin' tug-o-war
And from that Thumblins grew!

And while they tugged and pulled and strained
The moon above 'em waxed and waned
An' Gibbou came a-walkin by
And when she saw them her tears rained!

Oh then weak grew good Illyd's grip
And from his hand the rope did slip
So Mad Joab stood victorious
While heaven's tears did drip

And Mad ol' Joab chased the poor moon
From dusk until the followin noon
An' all the while she fed the saints
Who promised: 'Illyd returns soon!'

Ta the gate! Ta the gate!
Lead Mad ol' Joab ta his fate!
Lightning Gibbou rode the moon
While the saints stood firm in wait!

Then, so says the song ta me,
There grew a grand Houlin berry
And Illy passed and picked it up
And gave it ta Gibbou

Then ta mah shock, from far on high
Fell on mah head a Houlin pie!
The lil song then laughed and said
'Pies were all born up in the sky!'

Why then ah chased it all the way
To the sea and far away
'Off ya go ya silly song!
Waste someone else's day!'

So if you see that song again
Just flog it with some sugar cane
Don' let it sing its silly lies
And waste, like me, your day in vain!

Summary

A little ditty, probably sung by a Worldsong-maddened Thumbling, featuring an imaginative rendering of this post's revelations.

Divinus: The God RP, Mk. IV

The Kavijama | the thing of ink & poetry | The Hibrach

The Fate-song sings: 'tis time to part
No more can you here stay
It was then Lucia taught my heart
How much a glance can say

With trembling lips she came to me
Perhaps to say, "Goodbye!"
But sounds and whispers all ran free
Upon her lips to die

Then bending down, her gold all pale
Her arms she round me flung
And as the breeze hangs on the vale
Upon my chest she hung

I laid my lips upon her head
And kissed away her tears, lips wet
While she but wept the more and said
"Would we had never met!"

Summary

| 5MP and 5DP | 1MP towards Puppetry | 2DP towards Acting | 2DP towards Inspiration | 3DP towards Music | 2DP towards Dance |

Either a dream or a poetic reimagining (or both) of the moment that Meghzaal and Lucia were forever parted by the Lifeblood. An adaptation of the poem Adieu to Maimuna.

Divinus: The God RP, Mk. IV

'There are those, my dear Ganisundur, who wince at the sound of the cymbal and the rhythmic thrumming of the drum,' said the blessed Rinas when she and her devotees sat to rest beneath an arching palm tree one day, 'those long-eared, fair-eyed, dark-skinned ones who are dazzled by the light and heat of Hulaiya and can only walk in the dim light Reffoh sheds by night. You will see them wince sometimes, or jump up startled at the sound of music or song.'

'Surely that is because they worship that goddess felled by the Death-eye, and so are ever in panic and fear,' one of the disciples said.

'They cannot resort to Hulaiya's light, for Reffoh's failures mean they suffer beneath Hulaiya's glorious day,' another added.

'Perhaps. Perhaps,' said Rinas, and her finger strummed her one-stringed instrument so that it let off a long droning sound, 'or perhaps they cannot wander beneath her glorious light for the same reason that any true lover can't long bear the gaze of the beloved, hmm? Look how they burn up with fervour - is it Hulaiya's light that burns them? Or do they burn as a lover does beneath the beloved's gaze?'

'And what of the sound of song and music, Rinas, why do they jump and wince at it?' Inky Ganisundur asked. The songstress flashed him a gap-toothed smile, and her eyes wrinkled up warmly at the question. She leaned forward and looked at the great man of ink.

'If I were to jump and wince when you played something for me, Ganisundur, why would you think that is?' Asked the older woman.

'Well, I would think I had played badly.' The man of ink said.

'And if I were to jump and wince, but, say, Sinhuldo there seemed to be enjoying it, why would that be?' She pressed on. Ganisundur frowned and scratched his head.

'Well, that would be very strange,' he mumbled.

'Indeed, and yet you find that our long-eared brethren jump and wince, while we of the short ears dance and make merry.'

'But adi, if you winced and I danced,' cried Sinhuldo, 'I would think it is because I am stupid in the ways of song and you are not!' His outburst caused low laughter to ripple across the gathered disciples, and Rinas too laughed.

'Well, I wouldn't quite put it that way, but perhaps you are not far off my dear Sinhuldo. When we make music, we must know who we are singing and playing to. When we sing and play to those who do not know music, it is not like singing and playing to those accomplished in those arts. And when we sing and play to the boisterous small-eared folk, it is not like singing and playing to the sensitive long-eared ones. We must know what effect we intend to bring about in our listeners, and to do that we must know them and adapt our playing to them. Music has great and marvelous power and can leave listeners emboldened and strengthened - or unable to resist the tide of emotion it carries; and just as one may be intoxicated on beer so too can one become intoxicated on music and song. So why do the long eared folk jump and wince? It is because the songster does not know his audience, and so the effect he intended through his music is utterly lost and all his playing is in vain.' There was a long period of silence after this as the disciples sat and digested their master's words.

Thus Spake the Master

'Oh! Adi - what should the intended effect of our music be? Is it to bring happiness?' One disciple asked.

'And is all music happy?' Came Rinas' response.

'Well, no, it's not all happy,' the disciple conceded.

'You have listened to much music - was it happy music or sad music that you have found yourself inclined towards?' Rinas asked. The disciple frowned and cocked his head in thought.

'Hmm, it's difficult to say, adi. The different emotions serve different purposes at different ceremonies and occasions. I certainly could not play a happy song on a sad occasion...' the disciple's brows remained furrowed as his words trailed off and he fell into silent thought.

'Ah,' said Ganisundur, 'but the purpose should be neither, adi. Sad music and happy music and music of all emotions - there is a greater purpose and effect at play, beyond mere emotion.' The songstress looked at Ganisundur and beamed.

'You have savoured the secrets, my dearest Ganisundur; and silence between those who know is speech.' And with that, the knowing songstress rose and strummed her one-stringed instrument a few times, then walked off. Her disciples, many of them nonplussed, all picked themselves up and walked after her. A small shy smile played about Ganisundur's lips as he walked among his comrades and their master began to hum and sing.

• Summary

  Rinas and her disciples sit beneath a palm tree and discuss musical matters.
• Might

  | 5MP and 5DP | 1MP towards Puppetry | 2DP towards Acting | 2DP towards Inspiration | Next Domain: Art |
  
  5 MP to claim the Art Domain.
  1 DP to bestow upon the songsters and artists of the Azumai river valley an understanding of basic musical theory. (+1 towards Music portfolio)
  2 DP to bestow title of Songstress II on Rinas. (+2 towards Music portfolio)
  2 DP to bestow title of Numinous Dancer II on Rinas. (+2 towards Dance portfolio)
• Prestige

  +3 Points to Rinas hli Awqar (~5,000 chars.)

Divinus: The God RP, Mk. IV

_{The Lady-in-Waiting}

In the days and weeks that followed the coming of the Songs into Meliorem, the realm knew sound as it never had before. Inky songbirds sloughed off the Sirens and flew off into the realm's heavens, releasing trilling sounds that seemed to carry far and wide, and the ocean all about them seemed to breathe and sigh more audibly, its waves charging up the shores with vigorous sound before letting up a laugh and retreating, all coyness and giggles. And the Songs themselves had been making full use of the town that Cadien had erected for them.

While the Songs had no immediate need for it, the bathhouse had been thoroughly explored and prepared for any guests who may come by. Its exterior walls had been painted a deep, sunset orange, while the tiles that made up the roof has been inked a dark green. Inside, the Songs had gotten to work on bringing into being decorative tiles with all sorts of geometric patterns and designs. They were made up of very simple units, for the most part, but the sprawling nature of the whole made it an aweing thing to behold. Pillars were sculpted with flowers and leaves and vines, and the stony forms of nude Songs frolicing them could here or there be spied.

But it was not the bathhouse alone that received such treatment - although it was the first -, and all of the village was slowly made colourful and beautiful, teeming with the vibrant energy of life and activity. The library was painted with calm, reserved hues of brown and deep reds, its walls and shelves sculpted and carved with the forms of lovelorn poets and long-bearded scholars, shy maidens hiding at the foot of this shelf or in that far corner with book in hand or a letter from some secret admirer. And while libraries - as it is known - are meant to be places of quietude and reflection, the Songs that gathered here milled about and found one source of inspiration or another to sing their lyrics to, so that soon it was perfectly normal to walk into the library to find one Song or another reclined upon a great central podium with others sat about reciting poems or singing songs or scribbling away in inspired fits.
The central square had quickly found use with impromptu dancing, singing competitions, Songs offering to paint or sculpt the most beautiful and resplendent of their kin; and it was the great arena where the Songmen sought the hearts of the women. It had not been many weeks, and yet none of those poor newborn artists that Cadien had formed from the vestiges of the great flailing tentacle of ink had succeeded in wooing to them any of the women, who were generally dissatisfied with the lack of inspired works the men produced.

'Ah! But can you blame us, poor artists that we are, for the lack of inspiration, or should you blame the muse herself - coy and merciless, unforgiving and distant, displeased with all that we humbly lay down at her feet. Will the husk of my living form please you, lady? Will it be art enough, pray tell?' One had melodramatically declared at one point when one woman had refused an ornately crafted flower of inky gems and natural petals.
'And what is life that you should think it dearer than art? If your corpse is the way to my heart, then better by far is death than life,' had come her pained response, inky tears gushing suddenly from her eyes.
'Ah! She spoke and smote my being with speech - my lady who is out of reach. And though her words have caused my death her tears at once restore my breath; and I shall fight and toil and die so that you'll never need to cry!' And with that, he rushed away on the wing of sighs and moans, reciting verses and lyrics in an attempt to find the key to his muse's frigid heart.

The lady-in-waiting had watched over all this in silence and sighs, and had allowed her Songs to drag her now to the bathhouse, to see their handiwork, and now to the library and the square, and she had praised their good work before returning to her small abode. When she did venture out of her own volition, it was to visit the amphitheatre. There she would sit and watch as numerous Songs with plays they had toiled over for a day or two brought together troupes to rehearse. A few performances had been shown, though the reception was generally lukewarm and audiences were not too impressed - and the lady-in-waiting could not say she was particularly impressed either.

But now a number of promising plays were being shown, and the lady-in-waiting sat waiting as the sets slowly filled up with melodiously murmuring Songs. When there was a respectable gathering, a drummer amongst the orchestra began drumming, and it was followed by a long harmonious vocal note from the musicians, and on the stage a white-clad woman appeared.

'The night was dark when Brin was born / His form was grand, so too his horn / Which on his head a crown was worn!' She declared, and on the stage there appeared a grandly dressed Songman, wearing a singular wooden horn. What followed was an overwrought tale detailing Brin's dissatisfaction, despite the grandness of his horn and the great respect his people afforded him. And so he sought out the Mad Nomad in the Fruit Tree, who bid him journey across the isles to speak with the One Who Soothes All Hearts - and that he must get to her in seven days or tragedy will strike! And so brave Brin set out, but on his way was swallowed by the charging waves and found at the bottom of the ocean the Man of the Sea, who was on a journey to unite the six tiles that held the island above the water. The tiles had been stolen by four mischievous seabirds, and the Man of the Sea could not leave the water and fly after those vile thieving birds.

'If you will aid me, Great-horn Brin, then I will show you the way out of the sea,' the Man of the Sea declared. And so their pact was sealed and Brin was shown the pathway out of the water. But on reaching the shore he reneged on his promise and instead continued his journey to meet the One Who Soothes All Hearts; and when he reached her it was just within the seven day time period the Mad Nomad had set. The One Who Soothes All Hearts welcomed the hero and offered him hospitality and care, and Brin found himself in all ways joyous and at peace.
'I will remain here, with you, for the rest of my days!' He declared. The One Who Soothes All Hearts reacted with great ecstasy, sweeping across the stage now on this side and now on that.
'But!' she cried, 'I must first look into your heart - for only he of unstained heart may stay with me,' she said, and she idled up to Brin and looked into his heart, and on doing so wept inky tears. 'Oh my, oh Brin! Where have you gone and where have you been? - for you've slaughtered me with your one sin.' And with that she let out a great pained cry and collapsed on the ground dead. The horned Brin let out an anguished cry and held the One Who Soothes to him, and he carried her weeping from one side of the stage to the other, and he spoke for long of his broken heart - ah, sinful, blackened thing! - and of his woe and of the joy he never would know. And he determined then to take the body of the one who had brought him joy - if only for a short while - and bury her among his people.

But as they journeyed across the waters, the Man of the Sea spotted the horned Brin and came at him with great rage and fury, and he so smashed Brin that he dropped his beloved and watched her fall to the ocean floor. 'Oh Man of the Sea! Oh Man of the Sea! My heart is broken, of joy I am free; all of your rage and all of your fury can't add to my pain and nothing can cure me!' The teary-eyed Brin cried.
'That is good, betrayer, great thief! You turned your back on me, betrayer, stole my friendship who are my foe!'
'Oh have a heart, Man of the Sea; return, return my love to me.'
'Not until the sea flows over, and all the stars grow dark,' the Man of the Sea rumbled and dramatically exited with the body of the One Who Soothes in his arms. Brin remained alone on stage, and he raised his arms to the heavens and cried out, and then fell to his knees and crumpled into stillness and silence. The musicians in the orchestra hummed dramatically, and a deep bass of finality sounded, and the show came to a close.

There were a few moments of silence following the end of the play, and then a cheer went up and there was clapping and whooping. The lady-in-waiting herself nodded in approval. This was a breakthrough play, there was no doubt about it. All that had been written and performed to date had been about the town here, and the plot generally rotated around a Songman's ultimately successful attempts to woo his muse. This here was something completely different, and the lady-in-waiting could already sense that this was only the beginning of the saga of Brin - for there were already Songs mumbling and asking about what happened next.

'What did you think, my lady,?' A Song seated next to her asked breathlessly, 'it was completely unexpected, don't you think? Who would have ever thought that his unkept promise would catch up to him in such tragic and terrible ways? I was stunned!' The lady-in-waiting glanced coolly at the Song, who winced and coughed. 'S- sorry, my lady,' she said, her bubbling exuberance replaced by a sharp-eyed sobriety. The lady-in-waiting smiled, however.
'No need for all that, now,' she said, reaching a hand out and moving a stray inky strand from the Song's face, 'it's good to stay in-character after all, don't you think?' A mischievous smile played about the lady-in-waiting's mouth, and the Song echoed it and bobbed her head.
'Yes, my lady,' she purred. The lady-in-waiting looked down to the stage where the cast was busy bowing and basking in the crowd's adoration.
'It was a good performance,' she uttered thoughtfully, 'and I like nothing more than a good performance, my dear,' and with that she rose and left the amphitheatre. As she crossed the great square on her way to her abode, a Songman called out to her.
'My lady! My lady!' He cried excitedly, 'here!' She turned as he leapt lithely towards her and, getting on his knees before her, held a little object up to her for inspection. She looked at the thing with raised eyebrows. 'For you, my lady,' he said as she plucked it from his extended hands and turned it this way and that.
'What is it? Some kind of face sculpture?' She asked. The Songman shook his head with a knowing smile and stood up. Turning it around, he brought it to her face.
'No, my lady, it is a mask.' She looked through the eye-slits for a brief moment and then moved his hand and the mask away.
'Oh, very nice,' she said, and made to move off.
'Please, my lady, keep it!' he said desperately. She turned back to him with an irritated sigh and snatched it gracefully.
'Oh very well, I will,' she said, then turned around and hurried off. When she was indoors, she took the opportunity to inspect it. It was not particularly beautiful - though, of course, the features etched onto it were pretty enough -, mostly white and decorated here and there with patterns, the odd ornate tuft hanging off; but there was something about it... she could not put a finger on it, but as she stepped out and looked into a mirror hanging on the wall, holding the mask over her face...

she knew she liked it.

• Summary

  Things are going well in the Song town, and all kinds of artistic innovations are going on. The Songmen have not been successful in wooing the women, however! The lady-in-waiting watches a play in the amphitheatre and it's quite good - the first that's not just about the going ons in the town itself. As she is going back to her abode, a Songman comes over and gives her a mask. She pretends not to think much of it, but when she gets home she looks at it and likes it.
• Might

  | 1MP and 0DP | 1MP towards Puppetry | 2DP towards Acting | 2DP towards Inspiration | Next Domain: Art |
  
  1 MP to create an epic saga of the Songs, that will be told in plays, songs, poems, sculptures, paintings: The Epic of Great-horn Brin! (+1 towards Acting)
  
  | 0MP and 0DP | 1MP towards Puppetry | 1MP & 2DP towards Acting | 2DP towards Inspiration | Next Domain: Art |
• Prestige

  +5 Points to the Lady-in-Waiting
  10 in total (~12,000 chars.)

Divinus: The God RP, Mk. IV

The cityfolk of the Upper Azumai, it is rather safe to say, were not too fond of death. At the heart of everything they did and were lay the constant need to savour all that life held - in many ways, it was a desperate race, a constant endeavour to uncover life's joys and pleasures and taste each and every one. A life well lived, after all, is a life enjoyed to the full. The ancients had declared - and the ancients were in all ways wise - that the eye of death can never bring such joy; when the ghouls consumed your husk at last all happiness was come to an end. And so those cityfolk of the Upper Azumai, as though to prove that ancient declaration true, all sang with a collective spirit: before we'll let that Dead-eye drag us low, we'll perish in the wine cup's afterglow!

The Shade, a deepborn spirit of ink and dirge, had distantly noted the region as it flowed in the sunlit empyrean high above the strange world it had been birthed into. Basking in the mesmerising song of the flowing clouds against the strikes of the sunrays, only the premonition of a truly wondrous song and dance could hope to tear the Shade from such exquisite sight and sound - and the song and dance that reverberated from this small valley nestled away amidst the mountains of the northwestern Hreelcii was just that. And so the song-gripped Shade descended from the coloured heavens and congealed into a swirling ink blot that streaked across the skies and took in the artistic geography of the region - and why, there was a richness to it! This was a land that reverberated with an unstilling song; here, it was all too clear, was a place where the eye of art knew no sleep.

Countless tributaries gushed down from the forested hills and mountaintops into the verdant valley, and there the hushed song of the flowing waters mingled and intermixed into the mighty Azumai; whose song encompassed the whole valley and called to the far mountains and crooned at the rolling skies. And from those skies came squealing zephyrs, their laughter ringing everywhere as they brushed the tops of trees and rained kisses and flirtatious words down; and the trees giggled and sighed and brought their leaves and branches about them in embarrassment and pleasure. All about the great valley forests gave way to bare plains, which then again gave way to jungle and more forest, which gave way here and there to wetland. And at the heart of it all was the great Azumai that snaked its way from the far mountains, through the valley, and to the sea; where it formed up into a complex delta and poured its waters and sediment into a bay of not inconsiderable size.

And there was life aplenty here - that, the airborne Shade could hear. The grasslands were home to herds of strange bovines boasting hides of sharp quills and to sheep that leapt to absurd height; and here and there a flame-headed deer could be spied dashing across the plains and between the hills. The wetlands and the jungles alike were home to all manner of deers and monkeys and blinking leeoli wisps; and there were big cats here and so too on the plains, though no creature could boast the size and magnificence of the winged leons that stalked the grasslands all across the valley. Where verdant hills gave way to rock and mountain, the Shade could hear the lazy, bubbling song of the rock-eating salamander. The shade sighed, a small sound bubbling through its form and escaping into the whirling worldsong in the form of a moan. It rippled gently yet powerfully through all things, brushing and embracing the song of the butterflies and the bees, wetland and jungle snakes, and the jaguars lazing in the trees. Here and there it went breezing by tapirs and tatous slumbering peacefully beneath their armour. Gorillas sat in the thick jungle undergrowth turned their heads, blowing their lips out at the song that tickled their spirits, and great crocodilians bathing on the riverbanks and drifting in the great Azumai drew open their reptilian eyes momentarily before closing them again. Herds of hammerhead landsharks that lazed in and around the Azumai and in the wetlands, as well as packs of their smaller wolflike cousins, observed the passing of the rippling moan with dull resignation and energetic yapping respectively. Falcons and kestrels screeched in union with the flowing song, and high above the glorious harpy eagle rose and rode the canvass of the skies alongside the gentle wave of soulsound.

And yet it was not this life, alone, and the vibrance of the worldsong emanating from it all, that drew the song-lured, deepborn Shade - for it had flowed in the deeps of the world and heard the song of all that dwelled beneath the waves; endless corals teeming with melody, rumbling with canorous song, pulsing and rippling and bursting with musical vitality. Those living things above the ocean waves were beautiful, of that there was no doubt, but they could not hope to match those of the deeps for sheer volume of life. Though be that as it may, the song of the shrimp and the song of the termite alike were a wonder to behold; and beneath the waves or above them was the worldsong a thing to shake and waken souls slumbering in the depths of unsweet, suffocating nescience.

No, it was not the taut strains of the hunting jaguar that drew the Shade, or the nervous airs of the dashing mara in the grass; but it was the collective song emanating from the sapients dwelling here. It was an exquisite, deeply rooted thing, refined over unknown aeons by generation after generation of feasters and revellers and singers and dancers, generation upon generation of inkweavers and performers and musicians. Oh it was a song that constantly praised and saluted the endless beauty of life and clung to the joys contained in that too-often tragic and swift-fleeing thing; a song that hailed the coming of dawn with the sunrays and wept for their passing away when the hand of dusk carried those prancing things into the gaping maw of night.

The Shade slowed in its descent, sighing past solitary branches and congealing at the bank of the great river, where the moans of the flow welcomed the shade of ink & melody. But at that very moment it was no more a shade, but a dark humanoid of broadly masculine form whose surface was a gently shifting kaleidoscope of colours.

The Shade looked around, and found that it had landed amidst a motley band resting beneath the tree, who were staring at the Shade with great wide eyes. They were all disheveled, with long wild hair that reached their shoulders. Some wore pieces of cloth on their heads, kept there by a string of grass, while others had timeworn rags rapped about their foreheads with tufts of hair spilling out above and below. A few had straw sandals on their feet, though most of them were barefoot, and beside a loincloth or shoddy kilt they were largely unclothed. While the majority were seated, there was one man with small bells wrapped about his wrists and ankles standing. Each of them held an instrument of one sort or another - stringed instruments, drums, cymbals, flutes.
A few tense moments passed, and no one moved or made a sound, and so an inky hand reached forth and pried a tiny two-stringed instrument from the hands of one of the frozen men. It plucked one string, paused, then plucked the other. Tremors of colour swept through the Shade, and there was a giggle as bright eyes widened and looked at the men gathered about. The Shade kicked the earth and brought the instrument to bear, and its liquid hand swept across the strings to weave into being a high-pitched strumming that brought immediate energy to all those gathered around. Their fear and confusion was immediately swept aside, cymbals sounded and drums were beaten; and alongside that one of the men began to speak slowly and melodiously.

'Oh how fantastic
weere the olden daaays.
Oh how fantastic
weere the olden daaays.'

Then the single standing man began to move, slowly at first. With his movements, the speaker's words became more melodious and transitioned into a dance song. The dancer beat the earth and shook his hands, his bells ringing high and true and his hair spinning beneath the singing sunrays. And the Shade beat its feet against the earth too and swayed with the rise and fall of the singer's voice, strumming the two strings in union with the growing song and dance. And the singer was joined in song by the dancer, and each of the musicians began singing too so that the melody swirled and blossomed before them all.

Oh how fantastic
weere the olden daaays!
Oh how we frolicked
with the bright sunraaays,
there in the city where the priestmage praaays.
There we once sang out with the god that swaaays!
Oh how fantastic
weere the olden daaays!

The journey homeward
split us on our waaays,
there on the boat home
singing of bluejaaays.
And then the thunders joined our flowing laaays
and jealous raindrops leapt to join the spraaays!
Oh how fantastic
weere the olden daays!

Oh that cruel mem'ry
trapped me in its maaaze
And all day I think
of those far off daaays;
The city's gone now, never on my gaaaze
Oh bring that joy now, rid me of this craaaze!
Oh how fantastic
weere the olden daaays!'

As the song rose and the dancer intensified his movements, he began to move off, spinning and dancing his way along a beaten path on the riverbank. The others rose too and went dancing after him, clanging their cymbals and beating their drums still, sending their voices out to the wide heavens. The Shade leapt after them too, his fingers dancing still across the two strings. And they went on like that, unstilling and untiring, for hours; until at last they reached a gathered crowd and silence fell upon them.

The crowd parted and made way as they trundled through, and they found that everyone was gathered about a strange woman, smiling while tears flowed from her eyes. In one hand she held a one-stringed instrument, not dissimilar to one held by a member of the Shade's motley band, and at her side was a small drum. She was strumming the instrument, and from time to time moved her feet here and there and walked about and spun slowly so that the bells about her ankles shifted and clanged and her great ankle-length dreadlocks spun around her as though they were the far-flung arms of the cosmos and she its heart.

At the Heart of the Cosmos

She stopped and her eyes fell upon the tall Shade of shifting colour, eddying melodies sloughing off of it and whirling into nothingness away. She trembled on seeing it and seemed unable to look on it for long, however, though the song that emanated from the Shade seemed to inspire her to heightened fervour and an intensity of tears.

^{Parvathy Baul sings a love song to Krishna, Kabir Project Sep. 2011}

Place your love deep, for a few days,
Deep in your secret heart,
And don't misspeak a word or phrase
Of love for Hulaiya;
Speak in hints, with mystery praise
So none may hear or know.

When your heartpond stirs with mem'ry
And tears fill up your eyes
Go and run barefoot in the grass
And take your fill of skies;
Spark a flame when night arrives
And watch smoke surge and rise.

Place your love deep, for a few days,
Deep in your secret heart,
And don't misspeak a word or phrase
Of love for Hulaiya;
Speak in hints, with mystery praise
So none may hear or know.

Go wade in Hulaiya's river,
Bathe to your heart's content;
But while you swim take extra care
That your clothes not get drenched!
Take joy and drench yourself in her
But why get your clothes wet?

Place your love deep, for a few days,
Deep in your secret heart,
And don't misspeak a word or phrase
Of love for Hulaiya;
Speak in hints, with mystery praise
So none may hear or know.

And if you have packed for travel
And are going away,
When people ask 'where do you go?'
Don't be too quick to say!
For if you will be going north
Point south and say, 'that way!'

Place your love deep, for a few days,
Deep in your secret heart,
And don't misspeak a word or phrase
Of love for Hulaiya;
Speak in hints, with mystery praise
So none may hear or know.

You may have drunk the beers of spring
And beers of Fenn'hamel,
But here's a song that lovers sing
Its wines they alone drink.
How can the ones with broken wings
And dry hearts understand?

Place your love deep, for a few days,
Deep in your secret heart,
And don't misspeak a word or phrase
Of love for Hulaiya;
Speak in hints, with mystery praise
So none may hear or know.¹

She continued to strum her strange instrument and beat her drum for a few moments after the last verse left her lips, and then she spread her arms wide and began to turn slowly, causing the bells at her feet to release a great cacophony of sound. The sound of bells mingled with the continued strumming of the one string, and the tearful woman raised her head skyward and let out a melodious pained cry that rose and fell as he spinning grew faster and faster and her great dreads of hair spread further and further.

The Shade trembled and moaned as the spinning grew faster and the strumming quicker and the bells louder and louder yet, beginning to strum at its instrument too. Her cry rose and her spinning reached a climactic constant that caused the world to seemingly erupt when she came to a sudden halt, facing the Shade, and all sound ceased at once. The memory of the awesome sound and the jarring enormity of the silence seemed to mix at once, and the Shade let out a sob and fell to its knees before her, prostrating itself low.

It was only then, when the world had fallen silent and the spell of the song was finally broken, that everyone gathered took a moment to register the odd being among them, giving it a wide berth. There were murmurs, and then the word 'itralla' was mentioned, causing fear to blossom in their hearts and songs. Sticks were brought to bear against the Shade by some, others turned about and put distance between themselves and the strange beast, and others yet - dishevelled and with instruments at hand - looked on with a mixture of curiosity and bemusement. Some of those the Shade had danced and sung with raised their voices in protest, but it did not stop the sticks from landing on its inky form and its melodious cry of pain and fear to rise.

As the blows landed again and again, the Shade looked up at the woman who had been singing. She was observing it with distant eyes, her song now flaring and now quieting. She stepped forward at long last, reprimanding those who beat the Shade.

'But adi Rinaas, if we let this itralla free it consume entire villages and towns and cities!' One of them protested.

'And if he could consume entire villages and towns and cities, what is stopping him from consuming you who have humiliated him?' Came her question. 'Do you think your sticks have beat him down? Your shouts and growls and frightful frown?' She sang.

'Yes adi Rinaas, you must be right!' One of them said, nodding vigorously, 'maybe the sticks and the frowns did it, and when you danced as well that made it cry and fall down! The itralla hate joy!'
'And they hate the Hulaiya's light!' One of them added, pointing at the sun, 'that's why we always light the fires at night!'

'Then consider this, my zealous friend, and mend your way - why is he out among us here if he fears day?' Rinaas sang, her eyes growing distant as her voice gave way to the tune. The members of the impromptu lynch mob frowned at one another, and a few of them mumbled something incoherent and moved off.

'So...' one of those remaining said with brows furrowed in thought, 'this itralla must be especially dangerous because it doesn't fear the light,' he looked down at the Shade and shook his head at it, 'it's good we caught it before it attacked a village.' A few of the others nodded with varying levels of enthusiasm, and the Shade whimpered as the sticks began landing again.

'And would great Hulaiya let evil dwell beneath her sky? Does not corruption cry in pain before her glare and die? So if it walks among us here the reason's one of twain - it may be something good, so then why should you cause it pain? Or it may be Evil great that not even light can tame - think what will be of you, who brought such Evil pain and shame!' The lynchers looked at the Shade with sudden fear and took a few steps back.

'O- oh! F- forgive us!' One shouted, and then joined those who had chosen to wordlessly flee. Rinaas watched them go with an absent-minded smile, and then she turned back to the Shade and extended her hands to i- him. The Shade looked up at her, the little rays that had passed for eyes until now forming up and shifting until there were defined eye-lids and inky lashes, and within them chromatic irises formed and pale sclerae. He took her extended hands in his and placed his forehead upon them in humility and submission to the mistress of lovelorn song and dance, and where he touched her ink slipped and flowed into her, twisting and curling across her arms and neck before concentrating in a tiny spot at the centre of her forehead, just above her brow. There, it formed into the shape of an extended hand.

The woman looked down at him for a few moments more, and then she gripped his hands and pulled him up, and he rose as she bid him and he looked once more into her face - it was not aged, but the creases here and there betrayed that youth had long passed, and the odd streak of white in her dreads sang lowly that the white wave was soon to sweep the black shore for eventide. And yet, for all the death of youth, did the Shade find the resplendence of beauty all in her, and he wept some ink tears and bowed his head once more.

'What is your name, fellow songknower?' She asked him. The Shade brought a finger to where a mouth should have been, and where his finger touched lips formed up and he took a breath, then sighed.
'Mi- mistress,' he trembled, the words coming heavy, 'I- I don't kn- know.'
'Then I will call you Ganisundur, Beautiful Song,' she told him. A smile spread across his newly formed lips and he bowed his head.

'Th- thank you... ah, Adirinaas?' He looked to her questioningly. She laughed - revealing a small gap between her two front teeth - at his confusion, her black eyes twinkling.
'Rinaas hli Awqar is my name; there should be no titles between friends,' she told him, and he smiled timidly and nodded.

'I- I wish to learn,' his grip tightened on her hands slightly, 'to do as you do.' She smiled widely and freed her hands from his, gesturing to all the others who remained.
'We are all learning, Ganisundur,' she began, and then her words picked up tune - erupting from her as though the mere act of speech broke the dams holding her melodies at bay, 'learning never stops! We walk the way to find and weave all of wisdom's dewdrops. Of arrogance we've purged our hearts and never deign to mock the wisdom of the labourer or worker at the dock; the merchant who comes sailing up the Azumai from far may carry words more valuable than all his riches are, and strangers who come bowing low, seeking to learn our ways, may yet in time teach us to dance and great poetic lays,' and with that she began to walk away; and all those dishevelled young men and women - for, indeed, they were all young and looked upon adi Rinaas as disciples did upon their master - picked up their instruments and began to follow in tow.

The Shade - now no longer the Shade, but Ganisundur - stared after them for a few moments, and then he picked up the two-stringed instrument he had dropped and went walking after them.

• Summary

  ¹ An adaptation of Vipuli Rikhi's translation of Kichhu Din Mone Mone (For a Few Days), as sung by Parvathy Baul.

  
  The Deepborn Spirit of Ink & Dirge, Meghzaal's avatar, travels over the Hreelcii Isles and is attracted to go down and explore it by the beautiful song being emitted by the sapient inhabitants of the Upper Azumai. On descending, he comes across a dishevelled band of travelling musicians and, after some initial fear, they go off singing and dancing together. In time they come across a great mystical singer and dancer, called Rinaas, who has a great following of disciples. She sings and dances before a great mixed group of people, and when she is done they notice the Shade. Some believe it to be a creature known as an itralla and try to beat it with sticks, but Rinaas eventually sees them off. The Spirit converses with Rinaas, who completely assumes his gender and gives him the name Ganisundur, meaning Beautiful Song. He makes known his desire to learn from her, and she more or less - in so many words - accepts him into her band. Then they all set off.
• Might

  | 4MP and 1DP | 1MP & 3DP towards Wards | 1MP towards Puppetry | 2DP towards Acting | 2DP towards Inspiration | Next Domain: Art |
  
  1 DP to Consecrate Rinaas as a Hero
  

  Of the Open Hand I: The tattoo of the Hand of Ink & Poetry, downside up, lies between this person's brows; alongside the other powers of the hand, her one also protects all those who hear her song from violence or harm and physical harm. The effect of this weakens quickly after her song is over. (+1 to Wards)

  
  3 MP to claim the Wards portfolio.
  
  | 1MP and 0DP | 1MP towards Puppetry | 2DP towards Acting | 2DP towards Inspiration | Next Domain: Art |
• Prestige

  +5 Points to Rinas hli Awqar (~22,000 chars.)

Divinus: The God RP, Mk. IV

_{Kho and NF present}

_{The Clothing of the Sirens}

Cadien was circling Antiquity, much as he always did. Lost in thought, he did not pay much attention to the portals that drifted by him as he passed, but as he walked by one particular portal he glanced something odd - just in the corner of his eye - that gave him pause. He couldn’t help but notice that there was something rather… off. When he turned his head, he found that the portal was pitch black. Now this may have simply implied an unmodified realm, but something about the portal made him doubt that. He turned and stepped swiftly towards it, scanning it for any oddities before finally placing his hand into it... only to meet a solid surface rather than the amorphous swirl that was the norm for portals.

Ah. It’s not dark, he thought. It’s blocked. He supposed he could not blame a god for blocking off their realm. Some of the gods were, as he had learned secondhand from Neiya and firsthand from Aicheil, obnoxious. So it was perhaps a sensible measure to block the door so that unwanted intruders could not force access. Still, he found himself rather curious as to the god who would seal their realm in what seemed to be solid ink.

His curiosity piqued, he decided that seeking an audience with the owner of this strange, sealed-off realm was in order. And so he rapped his knuckles against the inky surface and spoke. “Hail there! May I come in?”

At his touch, the ink rippled and its colours shifted, and what had been a blank and peaceful barrier began to ripple slowly, and the ripples became more agitated. The surface roiled and turned, whirling now into a small gyre of colour and now bulging and growing outwards until it hovered dangerously, uncertain of whether to plunge or rear itself back in. It hung there, on the verge of bursting, for a few moments more... and burst it did.
Ink and song erupted suddenly and violently from the portal, drenching Cadien. The torrent of many-coloured ink flooded the ground all around the portal, and the variegated pool began swiftly expanding while song and poetry fluttered off in the form of inky birds and leaves carried off by some unknown breeze, and little flitting faeries and fluttering butterflies.

Some of those kaleidoscopic oddities fluttered about the Cadien’s head and began to whisper and sing in overlapping feminine tones.

Oh who knocks there, who knocks?
Who stands there knocking at the locks?
Don’t you see, don’t you know?
There’s nothing in this empty box!
So who is it that knocks?

What do you come to seek?
Perhaps to sneak a silent peek
Beyond the great black gate
At songs and poems soft and sleek?
You’ll not find what you seek!
There’s nothing in this empty box!
So who is it that knocks?

The fluttering birds circumambulated Cadien’s divine head and flew away, only to be replaced by others who circled once - and only once - then went off on their way; some bursting into a cacophony of melody and verse, while others leapt sighing and dancing into the realms of other gods.

All of this did Cadien bear for a few silent moments, but soon an indignant rage welled up in his chest as he finally wiped away the ink which had splattered him... but he was able to suppress it at the last. “I am Cadien, the god of Perfection,” he breathed. “Could I perhaps inquire as to the owner of this realm?”

Annoyingly, there was no immediate response to his words and the outpouring of ink from the walled up portal continued. The only response to Cadien’s question were the odd inky flyers who continued to flutter and dance and sing about his head. They varied their song slightly, but the general theme continued to be that that there was nothing here, that it was empty and that there was nothing to be found.

Nothing lies here, no one stirs
In the empty box
The mind blows to bits and blurs
And the tongue falls flat
Only your tune sings and whirs
That’s why you are here!
Other singing disappears
And your song appears.

“I find that rather hard to believe,” Cadien remarked in response, “considering you are speaking to me right now. And why would this realm be sealed if there was not something inside of it?” But there was no response to his words this time. The birds and butterflies flew off laughing and dancing, and all about Cadien was silence and the gushing inky cascade.

“Hmm…” the god stood still for a moment, deep in thought. Then he took a step back from the portal, and cleared his throat.

“Your words I cannot believe,
I don’t know why you'd deceive.
An empty box would not lock,
An empty box would not talk.”

For a moment nothing happened beyond the gushing of the ink from the obsidian portal and the flow of the growing inky pond across the floor of Antiquity - having now already reached the noticeboard of the gods. The silence dragged on for a few uncomfortably awkward, heavy moments... and then a cacophony of noises - wood being sawed, planks being hammered, bricks being baked and swiftly put up - sounded. The high-pitched shriek of what might have been metal being shaped and drills at work was ear-piercing, and the sound of engines roared and chainsaws rattled as the barrier appeared to be enforced by all means possible. When all of this was done, a suspicious feminine voice spoke out with finality, ‘nobody’s home!’

“I propose a challenge, then,” Cadien suggested to the voice. “If I can break down your barrier, I can come in. Do you accept?” His proposal, however, was met with a cry of fear and the scuttling of feet back and forth… then what was undoubtedly the sound of furniture being moved and jostled around.

‘N-no, please! Please! If you huff and you puff and blow my house down I would be ever so upset!’ The panicking voice cried out.

“Hmm. Very well then,” Cadien shrugged in resignation. “That wasn’t a threat, I should clarify. ‘Twould have merely been a test of your barrier’s integrity. But, if you do not wish for it, then I shall not do it; you have nothing to fear. But anyhow, now! May I please come in?” He asked once more.

He heard the voice behind the barrier sigh with relief. ‘Thank you, kind sir! That is most gallant and gentlemanly of you. But I fear that it would go against all etiquette and propriety to l- let a stranger inside for no good reason and without a chaperone. Is there anything I can do for you? Perhaps I can take a message?’ There was the rustling of paper, what seemed to be quick scribbling back and forth on a page before there was an exasperated groan about ‘these things keep running out of ink..’

“Would you happen to be the owner of this realm?” Cadien asked.

‘Realm, sir?’ The voice asked in response.

“Oh no,” Cadien whispered, and then sighed. “Have you made any attempt to set foot outside this portal after it appeared?”

‘F-foot, sir?’ the voice asked with audibly increasing horror.

“Is there anybody else in there that I may speak to?” Cadien snapped at last.

‘Oh, I will check for you, sir. Just a moment.’ There was once again the sound of scuttling feet, whispering, a number of people muttering and shouting in surprise in the distance, before the skidding and sliding of scampering and running feet. ‘I’m sorry sir, everyone else appears to be asleep. The Lady is not to be disturbed, she is currently at a very delicate point in her… uh, whatever it is she’s doing.’

“And who is this Lady?” Cadien asked.

‘Wh- who is the Lady?’ There was a musical note of dawning realisation, ‘you don’t know the Lady, sir?’ Suspicion had returned. ‘And yet you come knocking at the door! You are surely a miscreant with incredible panache attempting to charm us of our honour! Woe is me!’ Cadien frowned, and once more there was hammering and drilling in an apparent show of reinforcing the barrier even further.

“I am no miscreant, churl. I am Cadien, the god of Perfection. Do you treat all visitors with such suspicion?”

‘You will have to pardon my suspicion, sir, but you are a highly charming individual - perfect, in fact! - attempting to beguile and dazzle your way into this empty box, for no reason at all! You would forgive me if I suspected such a perfectly charming stranger - one with such overpowering words and logic, at that - of some kind of ulterior motive; especially when the Lady is sleeping inside! Oh, the humiliation of it! A stranger getting inside! It’s most irregular! What will the people say of us?’ The voice continued melodramatically for a good while before finally coming to a conclusion, ‘so, please do pardon me sir, but I can’t simply roll the red carpet out for you, as it were.’

Cadien stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Ah,” he said after a moment. “But am I perfectly charming, or merely perfectly mannered? If you turn away all who demonstrate such refinement, then they will stop coming, out of respect for your policy. Then only the brutes and churls will be left, who will not be so easily turned away. Would you rather have them knocking at your door instead of I? I think not. The mere sight of such disreputable figures outside your door will surely tarnish your Lady’s reputation.” He shook his head. “No. Better to let me in. I give you my word that I mean no harm to you or your Lady.” Shuffling and whispering followed Cadien’s words, and a heavy silence descended as though the person behind the barrier was deep in thought... until at last the heaviness could not be retained and a sob sounded.

‘Oh sir! You have frightened me beyond measure! Even now I am imagining all the fiends out there, all your Casanovas and Don Juans and other such incredibly handsome but fast and loose libertines. It’s incredibly frightful - oh! Oh my heart! It’s going to give out, any moment now! Oh! Oh! Sir! I will let you in but you must promise me - you must promise me this. Oh! That you will stand gallantly and boldly against all those vile philanderers who will come knocking at the door!’

“Very well. I promise.” Cadien smiled in triumph.

‘Right! Good! I am relieved! Let me just move all this,’ and for a few moments there was the noise of shuffling and jostling and the removal of the assortment of barriers that had been put up, before that all stopped suddenly. ‘But oh! Oh me!’ The woman cried, ‘how am I to trust your word alone, kind sir?’ Cadien huffed, closed his eyes, and brought his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose for a few moments, before returning to a upright position.

“All I have done is assure you of my own character. If a charming figure surely sought to gain entry via deception, they would have diverted conversation away from themselves and instead plied you with flirtation and flattery. They would have issued false praise and claims of devotion to your Lady, without knowing who she was. But I? I have focused only on what I can speak the truth about. My merits, and my intentions.” He snapped his fingers and hastily materialized his suit of armour around himself.

‘That is all very well, sir, and I am sure you are very honest and sincere, but it remains the case that I do not know you, truly. What is to say you are not an exceedingly cunning and dashing young Romeo who is well-aware of the normal tricks of such young adventurers, and so have refined your art to the highest degree so that naive ladies-in-waiting like poor little me will let you in? Surely you can offer some kind of boon as proof of your sincerity? Something you cannot do without so that even the great beauty and nubile form of my Lady, and her captivating song and dance, will not shake your gallant and pure intentions.’

“I can offer you my cloak?” he suggested. “It is of my favourite colour, and it complements my outfit rather well. I simply wouldn’t be able to leave without it.”

‘But sir!’ The voice on the other side gave out an indignant cry, ‘if I didn’t know any better I would think you are making fun of me!’ There was a huff and the sound of a stamping foot, and then the song of arms being crossed, pouting lips, and furrowed brows slivered through the barrier.

“I would never do such a thing,” said Cadien. “I am the Lord of Perfection. Fashion is a very serious matter to me. I would not freely offer an accessory if I did not hope for its return. Nor would I do so with intention to mock.” There was a gasp the moment he had mentioned fashion, and a great racket as the barrier was dismantled at bizarre speed.

‘Sir! We are experiencing what one could term a fabric crisis, for want of better words. You simply must help us resolve this pressing and, well,’ there was a pause, ‘somewhat embarrassing state of affairs. I assure you that you will be rewarded most handsomely for your assistance!’ And with that, the final lock was removed and the bolt drawn open, causing the barrier of ink to collapse and reveal a world of incredible colour and sound, mesmerising and beautiful beyond words. Colourful Songs took on the form of enchanting young maidens with sweeping hair who leapt about laughing and giggling, birds and little faeries flying about them and singing and reciting poetry in adoration of their perfect forms of colourful ink and dance.

The world itself was a breathtaking sweep of majestic rolling mountains of shifting ink, through which streamed endless rivers and cascades. The skies roiled and shifted like the glorious breath of the cosmos, and wherever the eye fell it found beauty, and whatever fell upon the ear was cause for joy and delight. An inky woman stood by the barrier, covering her shame with her endlessly flowing liquid hair. The fabric crisis she was referring to was all too clear, for all the Songs that laughed and danced across the sensational realm were unclothed. The woman, who Cadien immediately knew to be the troublesome lady-in-waiting, extended her hand to Cadien, inviting him to take her hand and step within.

I hope Neiya doesn’t find out about this, Cadien thought, as he took her hand and stepped inside. As he stepped through, ink rushed about him and he looked back to find the portal slowly sealing up behind him. No doubt it was to ensure that no dangerous villains would take the opportunity to sneak inside. He turned back to the smiling lady-in-waiting and found that she had flushed all kinds of red on contact with the manifestation of manly perfection that he was.

She led him slowly through the realm, and about them the clouds of ink parted and a pathway of rocky red and orange and yellow inks formed beneath their feet as they walked, and it led to a great pavilion furnished with all manner of soft cushions and carpets - though Cadien knew not how they were kept from staining those reclined on them - and as they entered the pavilion graceful Songs approached softly and eased Cadien’s cloak and armour from his athletic, sinewy form. Then the lady-in-waiting led him inside and seated him amongst the biggest cushions where Cadien immediately felt that the acoustics were clearer and that the verses and lays drifted towards him in a relaxing and peaceful manner. Lithe, wide-eyed Songs brought bowls of fruit and sweatmeets and honeyed nuts before him, and he heard the lady-in-waiting say in her sing-song voice that he was the first stranger to ever set eyes upon them, and he the first they ever set eyes on.

Many of these Songs, as the lady-in-waiting called them, gathered about the pavilion and strained to catch a glimpse of Cadien, and he could hear them whispering about ‘the thing of beauty that everyone is whispering and talking about,’ and all about Cadien fair maidens threw themselves and sat and lay adoring every aspect of his form. As they gently delighted in inspecting him, now massaging his shoulder or feeling a bicep or admiring his calves, the lady-in-waiting sat herself on some of the cushions and looked to the god.

‘It is our duty to offer entertainment, but I fear that all my Songs are far too shy to sing and dance before you without something to cover themselves. Are you, perhaps, able to offer them some clothing that will enhance their beauty and hasten our ability to entertain you as you deserve to be entertained?’ The god of Perfection glanced at the lady-in-waiting as he basked in the attention, and then offered a single nod. With a snap of his fingers, each Song was suddenly clad in a low-cut form-fitting dress, in colours that perfectly complemented the hues of their skin, and long silken sashes were draped about their shoulders and tied about their waists. The sudden change drew melodious cries of astonishment and delight from the Songs around the pavilion and across the realm, to Cadien’s satisfaction, and their enticing and lyrical song rose like a great wave about the pavilion and came crashing down to fill the place with a flood of harmonious yet inspirited sound.

Those Songs around Cadien’s throne of cushions threw themselves in his lap and about his shoulders in delight, now planting kisses and now stroking one aspect or another of his perfect physique. And even as those did so, others sat themselves around and began strumming lutes that materialised from the inky ambience and beating drums and playing flutes, and others let loose bursts of exquisite sound in a full-hearted celestial song that called on the souls of those present to rise, awaken, and dance. And many of those Songs leapt up, putting their newly-clothed ripe forms into the twirling dance, and bells about their ankles and wrists gave their every movement a tight tension and emphasis, while whirling sashes leant the illusion of a barrier, distance, mystique.

The singing went on, and the dancing, and jugs full of deep-crimson wine was brought forth and poured into bejewelled goblets. Songs competed to be the ones to bring their cup to the god’s waiting lips. Others raced to plop a grape into his mouth or slice apples that they may be the ones to place the sweet fruit between his perfectly symmetrical lips. And the dance intensified, inundating Cadien with sensory pleasures; the song seeming to only grow ever upwards, ever on the cusp of reaching a climax yet never doing so.

Cadien could not deny that he was enjoying himself, and yet through the haze of pleasure he grasped at though and knew that he had come into this realm with a purpose, and as tempting as it was to lose himself in the beauty that surrounded him he knew he could not. He gently pushed away one of the Songs attempting to kiss him. “My apologies,” he said, glancing at the lady-in-waiting, “you are all very beautiful, and your skills at song and dance are unmatched, but could you withhold such intimate gestures? I have already committed myself to a woman, and she would not think it proper if I were to let things go on like this.”

The lady-in-waiting nodded at his words and signalled for the Songs who were being too intimate to control themselves. They did not refrain from pressing themselves against him, though the kisses decreased considerably and they contented themselves with massaging his knotted muscles and releasing the tension wherever it lay as the dancers continued their graceful stepping and gyrations in synchrony with the music all around, and good foods continued to be served. ‘Even from here I can feel that it has been very long indeed since you simply relaxed and enjoyed some good entertainment, my lord,’ the lady-in-waiting said, ‘pray tell, what are these matters that keep you busy from the good company of dancers and singers who would delight in easing you of all tensions and worries?’

“Interactions with my fellow gods, primarily.” Cadien explained, as he accepted a sip from golden goblet. “Most are pleasant company, but some have been quite rude and churlish. Then there is the plight of my people to consider. And as I said, I have already committed myself to a goddess. I love her, but she is quite possessive - not that I blame her for that, I suppose. Still, it would betray her trust if I fell too deeply into intimate company with others.” He glanced at the lady-in-waiting and found that she was frowning at this and clearly puzzled by some of what he had said.

‘I must say, my lord, your lady’s possessiveness is understandable - but it simply is not right. Women are monogamous by nature, but great men have many lovers - and they can love them all the same, for that is the mark of their greatness. I am sure that your lady will come to understand this with time - the greatest display of love is to allow your beloved to seek happiness in every sense. It does not take from a lady’s joy any if the great pillar and pole of her life is the support of many others. If anything, that is the evidence of his desirability. But I digress! You have said this word many times now - “god.” I have not heard it before. What is it?’

“You do not know what a god is?” Cadien furrowed his brow in confusion. “Hmm. Well, a god is an immensely powerful being, capable of creating life, objects, and all manner of things from nothing. The act I just performed - granting you all clothes - was but a small display of such power. What we are in right now is called a realm. You and all things in it were created by a singular god, and it was that god I came in here to meet.” The lady-in-waiting’s eyes widened as he spoke, and then she looked around as though the god that he had just spoken of would appear out of the ether.

‘Y- you are mistaken my lord! There are none of these powerful and mighty creatures in here. And you say that there are many such gods? And that some are not so good as you?’ Her brows seemed to crease in worry.

“Oh, fear not,” Cadien waved a hand, “your realm may still have a god. They might simply be absent, or hidden. As to the others… a few are unpleasant, yes - I did try to warn you of them. But from most you have nothing to fear. Rest assured, I’m certain that neither they nor your realm’s creator would allow any harm to befall you. And I did agree to stand against the unpleasant ones, did I not?” The crease of worry slowly lifted from the lady’s brows as Cadien spoke, and when he made his confident declaration she flushed crimson and looked away.

‘Y- you did my lord. I thank you for your kindness and generosity in this regard. I see now I was wrong to doubt, you are truly as gallant as you said. We shall have no need to fear while you are with us and protect us.’ The other Songs sat about Cadien nodded in agreement, and though they respected his desire not to be kissed, they continued caressing now his hair - and now his arms -, while staring at him with what appeared to be ever-growing adoration. ‘And you say you have been interacting with these other gods - if you pardon my ignorance, my lord, why do you do so? Is there some great and noble purpose that calls on you to risk life and limb in this manner?’

“Indeed,” Cadien nodded. “It is my own curiosity. I cannot determine which gods mean well and which ones mean ill until I speak with them to ascertain their motives.” Despite his earlier desire, Cadien now found himself sinking further into his beautiful companions’ attentions and returning their caresses, which garnered delighted giggles from them and responses in kind. “Now, should you ever find yourselves in danger, simply think of me, and whisper a message. I will hear it, and if your realm is open, I shall come to your assistance if you need it.” He smiled at the lady-in-waiting, but almost immediately the ripple of worry had returned to her inky visage.

‘Y- you mean that you cannot stay with us? Have we displeased you my lord? Please,’ she paused and swallowed, her glistening chromatic eyes meeting his, ‘do not leave us...’ Her plea caused her anxiety clear, and almost immediately her words were echoed by the others, and one or two held his hands desperately - but with a certain softness that sought neither to cling or force but only to implore -; and their touches and words made no secret of how his departure so soon after his arrival would pain them beyond measure. ‘You promised you would protect us, and we cannot feel safe now knowing that such evil beings exist outside. Please do not leave us to their predations, my lord.’ The songs looked from their worried lady-in-waiting to the majestic god who had blessed them with his presence, and for whom Cadien could see each now betrayed no small degree of growing love and devotion. ‘If we have made you unhappy with us then we will mend our ways, if only you would stay, my lord,’ despite the clear imploration in her words and voice, and on her flushed red face, the lady-in-waiting looked away and attempted to retain what dignity she could before the regal god, ‘protect us, take joy with us, and allow us to joy in your company and hear your tales and serve you in all ways.’ The lady bit her lips and furrowed her brows, bringing a hand to her shoulder as though bracing herself against a blow, causing Cadien to frown.

“It is through no failing on your part that I must leave,” he reassured, which immediately garnered melodious sighs of relief and smiles from the gathered Songs. “I merely have obligations elsewhere. Although…” the frown faded, and he took on a thoughtful expression. “If your creator is indeed absent, then I suppose it would be irresponsible of me to leave such beautiful damsels unattended. Mmm… yes, this is quite the dilemma,” he said as he stroked his chin. “Hmm. I may have an idea. But first, I’m going to need to meet this Lady that you told me of.” At mention of the Lady, a hush overcame the gathered Songs and they looked to the lady-in-waiting, with worry, and the lady too seemed somewhat at pains.

‘The Lady sleeps, my lord. No one ever disturbs her, for her sleeps is a delicate affair. Even we only go by her on tiptoes and barely breathe at all,’ she pursed her lips and sighed, ‘but why is it that you need to meet her so urgently? You have said that you do not know her after all. Is there something that, perhaps in your foresight, you have kept to yourself about our Lady?’ The lady-in-waiting leaned forward slightly, her eyes widening with hope; though her rippling brows spoke of uncertainty and doubt.

“Not at all,” Cadien shook his head. “I merely wish to invite you all to join me in my own realm. It would resolve the dilemma of me needing to leave while you desire after a protector. It seems only fitting to bring such a request to your leader before I do so, however.” The lady-in-waiting perked up almost immediately at his words, and the gathered Songs also looked about themselves excitedly - to travel with their Lady and remain under the protection of Cadien, it seemed, was a prospect that called for delight and excitement. The lady-in-waiting was on her feet almost instantly, and she stepped towards Cadien - and even though her steps were hurried, that essential lithely grace did not fade - and came on her knees before him and placed a kiss on his palm; and where her lips made contact with his skin she blossomed crimson and all her body glowed with it as she looked away.

The Lady-in-Waiting

‘Thank you my lord, to join you and be ever safe, and to frolic and joy in your presence and hear your manful tales, is all we desire.’ Her chromatic eyes peeked shyly up at him, her eyes hovering now on his chiselled jaw and now on the lips that more than a few fortunate Songs had savoured during the earlier entertainment and revelry. She swallowed and cleared her throat, ‘we will have to prepare you, my lord. We will wash you of these ink stains - much as ink, you will be pleased to know, complements your divine form - and we will ready you for approaching our Lady. It may be that your sublime presence will awaken her at last - and what better could she hope to awaken to?’

Cadien nodded his assent at this, and the lady-in-waiting and all her Songs gathered about the god with knowing smiles, stripping him of what clothes he yet wore and leading him gently away.

Had the bath-house where the perfect god was attended to by those enchanting beauties any ligneous beams or treen chattels, it need not be commented on that many lacerations would have been present there when at last the lady-in-waiting led him out, every aspect of him properly cleaned, his body oiled, and in all ways cared for. No marks of the offensive inks that had sprayed him before his entry into the realm were to be found, though looking on his form the lady-in-waiting said once more, ‘your form, my lord, calls out for the artistic touch of ink. It would be…’ she paused and looked away, attempting and failing to hide her reddening face, ‘perhaps you would allow me, sometime…’ she intoned.

“I think not,” Cadien shook his head slightly. “I do not doubt your abilities, but I am satisfied with my form as is.” He shrugged. “Then again, I have a tendency to change my mind. But for now, there is a more pressing matter at hand.” The lady-in-waiting looked like she had been struck, but she bit her lip and hid her face with a hand.

‘S-sorry my lord, of course. I meant no offence,’ her hand slipped from his and she placed it humbly at her side as she led him along the inky path that formed up with each of their steps. Every now and again she glanced at him with furrowed brows as though to check he was not angry with her.

“No harm done,” Cadien said in a reassuring tone as he idly examined his surroundings. The inky clouds of colour drifted past them on wings of song, and every now and again a little fae creature went whizzing by while loosing energetic jingles, or an inky thrush would land on the shoulder of one Song or another and bring forth a full-hearted evensong that purged any thought of gloom and caused the lively Songs to giggle and laugh melodiously and kiss and caress the bird of ink before it fluttered off. One such Song leapt beside the walking god and locked her arm in his, looking up at the far taller being.

‘My lord, you never did tell us what your realm is like. Everyone is so curious! We can’t wait to go and live there with you,’ she released a sigh, ‘can you tell me about it?’ The lady-in-waiting shot the little Song the slightest of irritated glances, her eyes hanging on where she held Cadien for a few moments before turning away and hurrying on.

“My realm? It is a lovely place. An island in the midst of a vast ocean, with a great fortress full of luxurious furniture and tasteful decorations. No doubt I will have to make some alterations to accommodate all of you, so there is more to be added still.” Cadien smiled. “You could consider it to be a… not a blank canvas, but one that is still in progress. Always ready for new additions.” The smaller Song seemed to eat up the talk of luxury and decoration, but perhaps what made her most curious was-

‘A vast ocean, my lord?’ The lady-in-waiting asked suddenly, bringing herself closer and timidly reaching for his free hand again, ‘what is that? And are there other gods in your realm?’

Cadien allowed her to take his hand with a reassuring smile, and the lady blushed crimson and looked at her feet. “An ocean is a large body of water,” he explained. “As for other gods, I am my realm’s sole owner, though others do visit from time to time. Including the goddess that I love. Assuming you do join me there, I would ask that you not disturb her when she appears; she enjoys solitude, and being alone with her own thoughts.”

‘Oh, my lord!’ the small Song cried, ‘that is beautiful! There must be many who love and adore you just as she does. I cannot wait to see her - she must be beautiful for you to love her, and she must have the most beautiful song, and I am sure she dances more wondrously than ever we danced!’

“Many adore me, it’s true,” Cadien agreed as they walked. “But none adore me as much as her. And none adore her as much as I.” There was a wistful tone in his voice. “She is beautiful, but I have never seen her sing or dance. Though such things are charming, she never needed them to draw my attention; her other attributes were enough.” Though the Song seemed stunned by a lover who neither sang nor danced, she appeared to understand immediately what the god meant.

‘That makes sense! For you don’t sing or dance my lord, and yet we all a- ah,’ the Song clamped her mouth shut and tightened her grip about his great arm, ‘and are there goddesses other than her, my lord? Surely they must love you too, and you them? A lord like you must have as many loves as there is ink in the world!’

Cadien frowned and shook his head. “There are many other gods and goddesses, and I consider many of them to be my friends. But I only have one love. She is all I need.” His frown faded. “You do things differently here, and I have no intention of making you change your ways, but outside of this realm, most view love as a competition. A man may only love one woman, and a woman may only love one man. My love believes this too, and I have accepted that.” On what seemed to be a startling revelation for the duo, the lady and the Song let out stunned gasps and for a moment neither seemed able to find their tongue so as to respond. It was the lady that found her tongue first.

‘But my lord, that is simply terrible! What will happen to all of us here who have given ourselves to you? How can you love us also when you will only love one? How can you bear to break so many hearts!’ The Song hanging onto his other arm nodded in agreement with the lady, her colourful eyes glistening at what seemed to be a horrible thought.

‘You said you would take us with you, my lord. We don’t mind how many you love, so long as you love us too,’ she added, smearing away an offensive teary droplet and sniffing back any more.

“Ah, I misspoke. I meant romantic love,” Cadien corrected himself. “There are different forms of love, you see. Love between friends, love between family. I hold love for what I create, and for those who choose to serve me. I am fully prepared to love you all; just not romantically.” The smaller Song’s frown deepened at these words, and she looked to the silent lady who seemed resigned to what, from her manner, seemed a terrible declaration. Perhaps it had never occurred to any of these isolated maidens that such different - and perhaps to them tragic - rules could exist.

‘Are you expected to seal off your heart and fight off every other possibility of love, my lord?’ the Song asked, ‘because that is only what dutiful women may do! Great men should not mimic women!’ the Song blurted at last, ‘it’s only us who are meant to do that - and you are meant to love us all. B- but. But if you can’t love us in your heart then…’ she placed her cheek against his bicep, ‘can we not at least take some joy of your form; surely that is separate from the matters of the heart? Surely your beloved will not deny you that if she loved you as we do?’

Cadien realized he was getting nowhere with this line of logic. His frown returned. “Where are these ‘great men’ of yours, then? Why have I not seen any?” The duo looked to one another and giggled, and then the lady-in-waiting slapped the god lightly on the arm, as though to bring his attention to the obvious.

‘He’s right here, my lord!’ She smiled, and the other Song laughed melodiously in agreement.

“You mean to tell me that I am the only man in this realm?” He asked, tilting his head slightly, and the lady simply nodded.

‘There need only be one, after all,’ she gave him a timid smile, though the other Song had no such inhibitions or shyness, leaping up gracefully and planting a kiss on his cheek, and then somehow managing to hang there hugging his neck for a short period before plopping back down and resuming her embosoming of his arm.

“Hm. There lies the heart of our issue, then. I don’t understand how you even know what men are if you have none, but when you accompany me to my realm, I shall create some for you. You may enjoy their attentions in place of mine.”

‘Will they be like you? With interesting stories and a love for dancing and singing and frolicing?’ The Song asked, her previous qualms forgotten. ‘And will you still love us even when we love them?’

“They will never be as great as I,” Cadien shook his head. “But they will be handsome, and they will be charming. They will dance, they will sing, perhaps even frolic. As for love, I shall love you as a protector and a leader would. They shall love you in all other aspects you require.” The Song opened her mouth to protest once more, but the voice of the lady-in-waiting cut across her, and there was a coldness there.

‘That will suffice, Herraiya.’ She said, and sound seemed to catch in the smaller Song’s mouth, who slowly closed it and contented herself with caressing the god’s arm. The lady then turned her gaze on the god with a small, soft smile, ‘if that is your will my lord, then we will accept it with pleasure. Your happiness is our delight and to see your will done is cause for joy.’

The god’s smile returned, brighter than those that anytime before. “Excellent. I look forward to hearing your songs echo through the halls of Meliorem. Now, let us press on.” The lady-in-waiting’s eyes hung on his smile for a few moments, seemingly dazzled, before she shook herself free and nodded.

They continued onward, making light conversation and joking as they went, and every now and then the Song at his side began rendering harmonious melodies that almost seemed to carry them forth along the ever-forming path of ink. And as the path climbed higher and higher into the inky clouds, there encompassed them a serene, monotone intonation that slowly became a trilling and quavering chant, which was soon transformed into a beatific chorus and strumming.

And the clouds of ink parted to reveal a small inky plateau where no Song wandered, and at the centre of the strange island of ink was a strange feminine figure. As they approached, it was immediately noticeable that her lower body was a miniscule storm of roiling ink, twisting and turning tirelessly on itself, and from her waste upward she seemed perfectly formed except for the odd tear or gash that revealed bubbling ink of variegated tones and colours. She was upright, though reclining backwards on air, her arms slightly spread and elbows bent so that her hands hung up by her hanging head. Her eyes were closed and she did not seem to breathe, though across her black skin golden tattoos shifted and turned, and her straight golden hair seemed to float here and there against any gravitational pull.

After a few sombre moments, the lady-in-waiting turned to Cadien and, wordlessly, presented what was clearly her Lady to him with a small gesture. Cadien looked at the strange sleeping woman with somewhat widened eyes. She was like no other he had encountered in this world; and it seemed clear to him that this was no ordinary sleep. Aside from her bizarre physical appearance, there did not seem to be anything extraordinary about her, though the sounds and songs which emanated from her were a strange mixture of joy and pain. “How long has she been like this?” he asked his companions. The lady-in-waiting brought a finger to her lips in thought, before speaking in a very low voice.

‘I’m not sure, the early days are not so easy to remember - but she was always off in her own world. She used to sing a lot more - and it was something incredible to behold, beyond anything I have seen or felt. But those occasions were very rare, few and far between. I care for her and protect her as I can, and the Songs all help me do that too,’ she paused and sighed, sadness and different shades of blue shimmering across her body, and she added more to herself, ‘but now I see how foolish I was. It was never possible to keep her safe from all the evil gods out there.’

“Does she ever wake?”

The lady-in-waiting looked at him and nodded. ‘Yes my lord, but as I say it has been a long time since she last did. We have never sought to disturb her - she wakes and sleeps as she pleases,’ she whispered.

How strange, Cadien thought, setting his gaze back on the sleeping Lady. This did not strike him as an ordinary sleep by any means. But at the same time, he had never seen this species sleep until now. He stepped closer to her, garnering a nervous gulp from the lady-in-waiting, and placed a hand on her cheek. “It is time for you to wake up,” he told her. Cadien could feel the lady-in-waiting and the other Song staring wide-eyed into his back for a few moments, clearly unsure of what would happen next. A strange stillness settled on the area, and all song seemed to fade. The lady-in-waiting and the Song looked around nervously.

‘My lo-’ the lady-in-waiting made to speak, but almost immediately the world around them seemed to roar and twist and turn, previously peaceful and harmonious inky clouds growing and expanding violently. The inky plateau beneath them rumbled and shook also, and the solid foundations it all stood on seemed to shift suddenly and begin to slip away.

Cadien stepped away from the sleeping Lady and instinctively thrust his fist into the ground, and the ink enveloped his arm up to the elbow. This was not his realm. It was not his home. It was not him. But that did not mean he was powerless. He forced his power and his will into the inky ground beneath him, and suddenly the shaking stopped. “Go!” he shouted to the two Songs standing nearby. “Gather… everyone…” he grunted, as he felt the realm begin to push back against his efforts to control it. “Bring them… here... “ his voice became increasingly strained. “I’ll get us out…” he gasped. The lady and the Song jumped to, looking at their unstable surroundings with fear.

‘B-but my lord, this ha-’ the Song began to protest, but the lady-in-waiting cut her off.
‘We will gather everyone as fast as we can my lord. I’m so sorry, this hasn’t happened in a very long ti-’ and leaving her words trailing off, she grabbed the Song and leapt onto the path, tripping here and there where where ink had collapsed or was flowing profusely. Ink droplets rained everywhere, pelting any yet-solid ground and all on it, and the song of the lady-in-waiting sounded across the turmoil, a siren’s call to safety.

Even as the lady-in-waiting leapt to do as Cadien asked, the god felt the realm rumble and groane against the restraints, and here and there a great simmering mountain of ink formed and spewed its contents like some horrendous volcano. Cadien noted, however, that the sleeping Lady did not seem to stir, though the slightest frown could be spied on her brow as though she had seen something unpleasant or upsetting in a dream. Though Cadien’s efforts meant that the inky plateau was now mostly stable, all around the world of ink swirled and thundered, great inkdrops pelted the plateau and the two figures on it - though where they struck the Lady Cadien was surprised to see the inkdrops simply slipping into her. And soon the world around them was not simply roiling and twisting and thundering and turning, but was sending forth inky tendrils that began to snap and grab at the immobilised Cadien, perhaps having identified him as the foreign element and source of the restraints.

With one arm embedded in the ground, the god of Perfection was forced to kick them away as he waited for the Songs to return. But while he was kicking at them, he noticed that other tendrils had now wrapped about the Lady and were already dragging her into the roiling horror of ink beyond the safety of the plateau ( which even now was fighting and straining against him to lose all form).

The god of Perfection slammed his legs together, and the two appendages merged into a tail, which began to extend as the rest of his body grew in size. His skin took on a violet hue, an extra pair of arms grew from his torso, and a pair of rainbow-feathered wings sprouted from his back. But it was the tail that mattered most, and with it he lashed out towards the Lady, wrapping the tip around her in an attempt to prevent her from being pulled away. Almost immediately the tendrils shrieked at his attempt to foil their mindless action, and they began to twist and turn violently to contest his tai. But it soon became apparent that it was a losing battle, and so the tendrils stopped attempting to pry the sleeping Lady free of the god and instead began enveloping his tale instead. Thicker tendrils joined the fray and encased Cadien’s mighty appendage, tugging to bring him whole into the chaotic whirling wind and ink, and latching around more and more of his form; the tighter he now held onto the Lady, the more tendrils seemed to join in the attempt to fling him from the plateau and envelop the realm in eternal inky chaos.

Cadien cursed inwardly. It was clearly no use, and so he swiftly shifted back to his human form, shrinking out of the tendrils’ grasp and abandoning the Lady to her fate. But his grip on the ground remained steadfast and unyielding. He looked up, steeling himself for further assaults, but the roiling chaos seemed to ease now that the Lady was gone, and though the realm continued to resist his restraints - thundering and pelting the world with inkdrops - there was no longer a targeted assault on the plateau or Cadien. Every now and then the ground attempted to shift beneath him, but a mere strengthening of his hold ensured the ink held; though the longer the Songs took to arrive the more precarious his hold became.

It was only when there seemed no possibility of holding anymore that the ululations and cries of the Songs sounded as they leapt and ran across the collapsing pathway that cut through the inky cloud; somehow managing to maintain their footing and places even as they gracefully leapt over one another and slipped by each other to reach the plateau. They continued flooding in as the lady-in-waiting arrived at last and flung herself by Cadien’s side, her multicoloured eyes searching the place where the Lady had been.

‘M-my lord? Are you well? W-’ she paused and looked around, her face collapsing into anxiety and fear, ‘where is our Lady?’ But Cadien could not respond. The realm tore at his mind and muscles, as it resisted his attempts to hold it together. He could barely spare enough power for what was required next, and he desperately hoped it would not be met with resistance. He raised his free hand and waved it in a circle. Then, he pointed. A portal appeared, leading to a sandy island and to safety.

The Songs let out gasps and cries of relief at the sight, and a few rushed forth before coming to a pause and looking around, unsure. ‘My lady,’ one of the Songs said, looking to the lady-in-waiting with an anxious frown, ‘what of our Lady?’ The lady-in-waiting looked to Cadien, her face the palest white and somehow ashen, but she it seemed to dawn on her that the god was in pain and so she did not say anything. She steeled her face and looked to the one who had spoken.

‘Our lord has opened a door for us at great pain to himself, now is not the time to be churlish. Go!’ The Songs all stiffened at her reprimand and seemed regretful for having wasted time on such doubts when their lord was indeed clearly in such pain, and almost immediately they made for the gateway and flowed through like a great cascade of ink - though, just as they had done on the collapsing pathway, they seemed to slip past and over one another without effort or detriment to each other, truly as though they were flooding through. When the majority had gotten disappeared beyond te gate, the lady-in-waiting placed her hands under Cadien’s arm and helped him up. ‘I’m with you, my lord,’ she uttered.

Cadien’s arm slid out of the ground, completely coated in ink, and in that moment the burden of stabilizing the ground was lifted. Yet he knew just as well that also meant the ground would cease to be stable for both of them. So without wasting any further time, he seized the lady-in-waiting by the waist and dove through the portal; the lady let out a cry of fear, instinctively shutting her eyes and wrapping her arms about the god and did not let go. The plateau went crashing down in their wake.

The two crashed down on the sands of Meliorem. Cadien quickly disentangled himself from her and rose to his feet, just as an inky tendril snaked its way through the portal. With a wave of his hand the portal closed, severing the tentacle at the tip. It fell to the ground, writhed for a bit, then ceased moving and disintegrated back into ink.

With the danger gone, Cadien fell to his knees gasping. Never before had his life been so endangered. Was this what mortals felt when death seemed certain? Could even he have died? It was a sobering thought. He knelt there, immobile, and still in shock at the harrowing experience he had just endured. The Songs circled all about him, asking after him with their harmonious voices, and though they were concerned their very voices soothed him. Not far from him, the lady-in-waiting slowly rolled over and got to her knees, looking to the now closed gateway wistfully for a few moments… and then her attention snapped back to Cadien. Almost immediately she was by his side, whispering soothingly and gratefully, tidying his disheveled white curls and ridding his body of inks and stains where she could, planting reassuring kisses on his shoulder. ‘It’s done, my lord, we’re safe,’ she murmured.

“I could not save your Lady. Forgive me,” Cadien said, unsure of why he was asking forgiveness from a mortal, but did so anyway. His words seemed to shatter whatever attempts the lady-in-waiting had made to keep from thinking about the loss, for almost immediately little drops of light blue ink began to plop onto the god’s arm.
‘I- it’s not your fault, my lord. I should have warned you,’ her tears intensified and she sat back on her knees, wiping the inky streams away only for fresh ones to take their place, ‘it had just been so long since it happened, I didn’t think,’ her brows furrowed deeply and anger flashed across her face, ‘didn’t think!’ she muttered, smacking herself on the forehead again and again, ‘I’m an idiot, it’s my fault. Stupid!’ Her outburst seemed to affect all the gathered Songs, who also began to cry and blubber.

But Cadien shook his head. “If anyone is to blame, it is the god who made such an unstable realm in the first place, and I for accidentally triggering it. It was I who insisted on meeting your Lady, it was I who carelessly approached her, it was I who failed to save her, and it was the god who was supposed to protect you that didn’t prevent any of this from happening.” He shook his head. “Blame whoever you wish, but your Lady was wounded, and in great pain. I did not know her, but if she endured such a cost to keep your realm stable, then I can’t imagine she would wish for you to fall into despair now that you are finally safe.” The lady-in-waiting considered his words for a few moments, then nodde and wiped her tears away.

‘But you’re wrong my lord - and I ask your forgiveness for being so bold, but you are,’ she leaned forward and placed a hand on his cheek, ‘you were as bold as you told us, gallantly put yourself in harm’s way to defend and protect us, and ensured every single one of us made it out safely. You promised to protect us, and you have, and…’ she paused, her eyes softening through the new flow of tears, ‘you will. I have no doubts, my lord.’

The god placed his hand over hers, and nodded. “I will,” he declared. “You all have a home here, if you still wish it.” The lady-in-waiting blushed a light hue of pink through her whitened face of ash and broke off from gazing into the god’s eyes, and then - seeming to remember that he had commanded them not to seek him in any romantic way - reluctantly pulled her hand away from his face. Her eyes swept across the realm, and Cadien did so too. After the experience in the realm of ink, he now found the colours oddly still and everything so… firm, steady, stable. In so many words, so very solid. The lady-in-waiting now gazed in the other direction, and her breath caught as she was struck by the great liquid expanse. Cadien smiled softly at her reaction. After all, this was not a liquid that whirled up into the heavens and down into forever; here too was a certain stability and firmness, a this is my place and I shan’t be moved kind of certainty. It was without a doubt unlike anything she or any of the Songs had ever seen, and it seemed to awe them into silence for a time.

At last the lady-in-waiting managed to snap herself out of it, only for her eyes find themselves hooked onto those of the god. Her breath caught visibly for a few moments before she managed to inhale. ‘I-’ she stopped, eyes wide as she fumbled to remember what he had said, ‘we would be honoured, my lord, if you would suffer our company after all the pain and trouble we have caused you,’ she looked timidly at her knees, which were clothed in the beautiful, ornate fabrics the god had conjured up for them what now seemed like long ago.

“Suffer?” Cadien asked, surprised. “Your company has been nothing if not pleasant,” the lady-in-waiting blushed further and smiled at his response. “Now, I believe I have one more promise to fulfill…” Cadien said, causing the blushing lady to look up questioningly.

‘One more promise, my lord?’ she asked, confused but curious.

The God nodded. “Of course. I offered to create men for you to partner with, did I not?” Though these words caused the gathered Songs to giggle and flush all hues of pink and crimson, the lady-in-waiting did not seem to share in their pleasure and looked away.

‘You did promise that too, my lord. They have known the joy your form brings and would not be denied it again,’ her solemn gaze returned to the god’s face, ‘but I would beg of you to exempt me, for I- I-’ she swallowed and bit her tongue, as though deciding against saying something, ‘for I now find no desire in myself for such joys.’

“What would you desire, then?” Cadien asked, his brows furrowing ever so slightly. The lady-in-waiting seemed taken off-guard by his question, and for a few seconds her eyes widened in embarrassment and her entire body flashed scarlet. She swiftly covered her hands with her face.

‘J- just... I desire whatever you desire, my lord,’ she paused and took a moment to compose herself, ‘though if it is at all possible, my lord, I would like to be able to go back and seek out my Lady once it is safe to do so, if you permit it. I will not be able to rest at ease until I do.’

“A reasonable request, if a return to that realm is in fact possible,” Cadien nodded. He looked around. “Now then, before I fulfill my promise, I do believe this area has gotten rather crowded as is. Allow me to remedy that.” The god began to move, stepping away from the lady-in-waiting and through the crowd of Songs.

He stared out at the sea, then raised a single hand up into the air. A new island rose from the depths. It dwarfed the original island in size, and sent forth a massive ripple in all directions. The Songs cried out in surprise and many leapt back as the great wave came crashing towards the shore, but Cadien raised his other hand and the large wave stopped before reaching the first island, as if it had struck an invisible wall. Eventually, the water settled, and the Songs sang out in admiration and awe.

Then Cadien made gesture again with his hand, and a marble bridge formed between the two islands. A new stone path appeared, connecting the bridge to the main pathway between Meliorem’s gateway and its castle. Then with another wave of his hand buildings of varying sizes and colours began to appear upon the new island, all of them well-decorated and well-furnished. Most of them were residential, but others were communal. There was a bathhouse, much like the one he had been tended to back in the realm of ink. There was an amphitheatre, which served as a place for music and performance. There was a library, with shelves of empty books waiting to be inked. There was a central square - a place for gatherings and festivals in the open air. All these buildings were connected by an organized network of cobblestone roads.

The areas of the island that weren’t covered in roads or buildings were rife with vegetation. Lush green grass sprouted from the ground, followed by fruit trees and bushes. Fruit plucked from these bushes would immediately regrow, ensuring they would never want for food. Not that these beings needed food, of course, but it was a luxury they would surely appreciate.

“Some of you will be permitted to reside within my castle,” Cadien told them. “But the rest shall live here. Do not fear; there will be ample opportunity to visit one another. Now, I hope that your new home is as comfortable as your previous one.” The Songs crowded about Cadien and some leapt out onto the bridge and spread their arms wide to breathe in the sea air. There were melodies of gratitude and songs that begged to be allowed to serve in the fortress - and soon those cries became arguments as this or that Song insisted she would be better up there.

The lady-in-waiting stepped up beside Cadien and frowned at the petty clamouring. ‘That’s quite enough. There is no need for all that. I am sure our lord will provide all of us with ample opportunities to serve him in the fortress. But he has wisely and generously seen to provide us with homes - he has clothed us, housed us, and provided for all our needs. This clamouring is not the way to show our thanks.’ The Songs crowding about the god bent their heads and looked repentant, and then songs of gratefulness and praise rose up, and Songs sidled up to the god and now embraced a leg or an arm or clamboured lithely to place kisses on his shoulders and neck and cheeks; and once they had showcased their gratitude sufficiently they began to flow across the bridge to the new island and their town of divine making. With that, the lady-in-waiting turned to the god. ‘How can we ever hope to thank you, my lord?’

“Good music, good conversation, and good service should all suffice,” Cadien told her. “I’m not all that demanding. This realm has been long overdue for some proper inhabitants anyhow - it’s always just been myself and the occasional visitor, until now.” The lady-in-waiting smiled and nodded at his words.

‘I will do my utmost to fill your realm with all these things and more, my lord. And I will take care of sending Songs up to serve you, and rotating them so that they do not pester you with complaints,’ she looked up at the taller god and shifted a few dishevelled locks off of her face, ‘and we will care for your guests too, and make your honour and generosity the things of ballads and epics, for that is the least we can do.’ She stepped towards the bridge and then paused, looking out to the sea and appearing deep in thought. At last she turning around, a question shining in her eyes, ‘you said not to disturb your beloved, my lord. Does she dwell in the fortress? Is there no way we can serve her too?’ She stepped back towards him and gripped one of his hands with both of hers, her eyes seeming to brighten at the prospect of being useful, ‘is there perhaps anything we can do to deepen her love for you even more, my lord?’

Cadien shook his head. “She does not dwell in the fortress, no. She has her own realm, and we visit each other from time to time. She loves me more than she loves any other,” he spoke with confidence. The lady-in-waiting smiled wistfully at Cadien’s words, and her grip softened on his hand. “But your offer is appreciated nonetheless. Perhaps I will one day have you sing to her. I will ask her which type of music she prefers.” The lady’s smile became a beam at this, and she nodded vigorously.

‘It would be a great honour and joy to sing for the one you have made the sole possessor of your heart, my lord. I will wait on that day with great pleasure and anticipation,’ and with that, her grip tightened about his hand for a few seconds as though she hoped against hope that his touch would not end, and then she sighed and let him go. ‘I will go see to the Songs now and ensure they are well-settled and well-behaved. I look forward to visiting you in your home and attending to you soon, my lord,’ with a graceful curtsy - which was at a loss for neither dignity nor gravitas even in the low cut, form fitting dress the god had chosen to array her -, she took a few steps back, turned around, and began the long walk across the bridge.

As the last of the Songs journeyed across the bridge, Cadien’s gaze shifted to the spilled puddle of ink that the severed tendril left behind. Analyzing it now, he could determine that there was nothing malicious left with in it; it was a material, like any other, malleable and ready to be used. The female Songs had been crafted from the realm of ink, and so the their male counterparts had to be made from the same substance.

The god knelt, placed a hand in the puddle, and focused on the substance. The first thing he did was duplicate it, creating several similar puddles scattered throughout the beach. Then, those puddles began to glow, and from them emerged new Songs. Men, each one adopting their own colour scheme. They were in all ways like their female counterparts, only that their base form was modelled off that of a human male rather than a female. And while he was at it, he bestowed a small modification upon the species as a whole: their form would now appear slightly differently to each mortal they came across. It was nothing major, but adjusted minor aspects of their appearance in line to an individual mortal’s perception of beauty. It would do little to fundamentally change their shape or remodel their body.

These newly-created Songs stared at their bodies with a mixture of awe and wonder. Then, one by one, their gazes fell on Cadien who was the only one who was not like them, as if asking for an explanation. The god merely gestured to the other end of the bridge, where the rest of their kind awaited them.

• Summary

  Cadien comes across Meghzaal’s realm and finds the portal into it blocked. He attempts to get in and, after a very lengthy back and forth with the Lady-in-Waiting who guards it, is allowed in when he promises to protect a mysterious person referred to as ‘the Lady’ and the inhabitants of the realm from evil gods. And if he provides them with clothes.
  
  He finds inside an orgasmic harem, but they are suffering from a lack of clothes and ask him to clothe them; and with a click of his fingers it is done. They see to his every need and desire, presenting him with food and entertainment and pleasant company. Cadien tells these isolated Songs - as they are called - many things about himself and also mentions the other gods, though none by name.
  
  He tells them he will have to leave, but they insist that he promised to protect them, and so he decides to bring them into the safety of his realm which they are all very ecstatic about. But before this, he tells the lady-in-waiting that he must speak to their god. She does not know what gods are and when he explains it to her she assure him that no such being exists here - he is the first god they have seen and who has seen them.
  
  As mention had been made of ‘the Lady’, Cadien asks to speak with her, but he is told she is asleep and no one ever disturbs her. As this Lady appears to be the mistress to whom the Songs look for leadership, Cadien insists he must ask her. And so they bathe Cadien so he is clean and take him to see the Lady.
  
  Along the way they talk some more and Cadien reveals that he cannot love them all as he already has a girlfriend. The Songs don’t see why that is a problem, but Cadien does and promises to make male Songs for them. With that, they reach an inky plateau where an ink-black blonde woman with golden tattoos hangs sleeping in a simmering storm of ink, her body gashed here and there to reveal bubbling ink beneath.
  
  Cadien asks about her, and it becomes clear that the Lady has been asleep for a long time, and never having really spent much time awake in the first place. When Cadien touches her and tells her to wake up, this causes the realm to destabilise and begin collapsing all about them. Cadien stabilises things while the lady-in-waiting gathers the Songs to get out of there, but he is unable to prevent the sleeping Lady from being claimed by the realm.
  
  Eventually the Songs all arrive and they rush through the gateway to Cadien’s realm, with the lady-in-waiting and Cadien the last to leap through as Cadien finally stops stabilising the realm and it collapses all about. Back in his realm, Cadien and the lady-in-waiting blame themselves for what happened, though the lady ultimately offers Cadien comfort and assures him he protected them as he promised.
  
  Cadien then expands his realm, creating an island on which is a town furnished with all their needs. The Songs thank Cadien and rush across the bridge connecting the second island with the first, and things end with Cadien assuring the lady-in-waiting that he will one day have her sing for Neiya, and then he creates male Songs who also rush off to join the females in the town.
• Might

  Cadien
  Beginning MP: 5
  Beginning DP: 5
  -2MP to alter a landscape: Cadien temporarily stabilized a portion of Meghzaal’s realm.
  -1DP for Cadien to maintain a strong enough grip on the ground to make it more difficult for him to be dislodged (+1 toward Strength portfolio.)
  -2DP toward creation of a sapient species: the Songs (also known as Sirens, Muses, or Succubi.)
  -3MP to claim the Strength Portfolio.
  Ending MP: 0
  Ending DP: 2
  
  Meghzaal
  
  | 5MP and 5DP | 1MP & 3DP towards Wards | Next Domain: Art |
  
  Consecrate a Hero: The Lady-in-Waiting.
  

  1 MP - Queen of Song I: The Lady-in-Waiting is the effective queen of all Songs, and they defer to her ultimate judgment without argument or complaint, being obedient to an unnatural degree. This allows the more restrained and level-headed Lady-in-Waiting to keep some of the more excitable Songs in line. (+1 Puppetry)
  2 DP - Actress II: The Lady-in-Waiting is a masterful actress, capable of putting on marvelous, convincing performances and managing other actors. (+2 Acting)

  
  
  2 DP to Create a Sapient Species: Songs aka. Sirens, Muses, and Succubi. (+2 Inspiration)
  
  | 4MP and 1DP | 1MP & 3DP towards Wards | 1MP towards Puppetry | 2DP towards Acting | 2DP towards Inspiration | Next Domain: Art |
• Prestige

  +5 Points to the Lady-in-Waiting (~68,700 chars.)